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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5101-0.txt b/5101-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d38f3b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/5101-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6343 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lives of the English Poets: Prior, +Congreve, Blackmore and Pope, by Samuel Johnson, Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore and Pope + + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: February 8, 2015 [eBook #5101] +[This file was first posted on April 26, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS: +PRIOR, CONGREVE, BLACKMORE AND POPE*** + + +Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell and Company edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY. + + * * * * * + + + + + + LIVES + OF THE + ENGLISH POETS + + + Prior Congreve Blackmore Pope + + BY + SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic] + + CASSELL & COMPANY. LIMITED: + _LONDON_, _PARIS_ & _MELBOURNE_. + 1891. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +WHEN, at the age of sixty-eight, Johnson was writing these “Lives of the +English Poets,” he had caused omissions to be made from the poems of +Rochester, and was asked whether he would allow the printers to give all +the verse of Prior. Boswell quoted a censure by Lord Hailes of “those +impure tales which will be the eternal opprobrium of their ingenious +author.” Johnson replied, “Sir, Lord Hailes has forgot. There is +nothing in Prior that will excite to lewdness;” and when Boswell further +urged, he put his questionings aside, and added, “No, sir, Prior is a +lady’s book. No lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.” +Johnson distinguished strongly, as every wise man does, between offence +against convention, and offence against morality. + +In Congreve’s plays he recognised the wit but condemned the morals, and +in the case of Blackmore the regard for the religious purpose of +Blackmore’s poem on “The Creation” gave to Johnson, as to Addison, an +undue sense of its literary value. + +With his “Life of Pope,” which occupies more than two-thirds of this +volume, Johnson took especial pains. “He wrote it,” says Boswell, “‘_con +amore_,’ both from the early possession which that writer had taken of +his mind, and from the pleasure which he must have felt in for ever +silencing all attempts to lessen his poetical fame. . . . I remember once +to have heard Johnson say, ‘Sir, a thousand years may elapse before there +shall appear another man with a power of versification equal to that of +Pope.’” + +Pope’s laurel, since Johnson’s days, has flourished, without showing a +dead bough, for all the frosts of hostile criticism. + + H. M. + + + + +PRIOR. + + +MATTHEW PRIOR is one of those that have burst out from an obscure +original to great eminence. He was born July 21, 1664, according to +some, at Wimborne, in Dorsetshire, of I know not what parents; others say +that he was the son of a joiner of London: he was perhaps willing enough +to leave his birth unsettled, in hope, like Don Quixote, that the +historian of his actions might find him some illustrious alliance. He is +supposed to have fallen, by his father’s death, into the hands of his +uncle, a vintner near Charing Cross, who sent him for some time to Dr. +Busby, at Westminster; but, not intending to give him any education +beyond that of the school, took him, when he was well advanced in +literature, to his own house, where the Earl of Dorset, celebrated for +patronage of genius, found him by chance, as Burnet relates, reading +Horace, and was so well pleased with his proficiency, that he undertook +the care and cost of his academical education. He entered his name in +St. John’s College, at Cambridge, in 1682, in his eighteenth year; and it +may be reasonably supposed that he was distinguished among his +contemporaries. He became a Bachelor, as is usual, in four years, and +two years afterwards wrote the poem on the Deity, which stands first in +his volume. + +It is the established practice of that College to send every year to the +Earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred subjects, in acknowledgment of a +benefaction enjoyed by them from the bounty of his ancestor. On this +occasion were those verses written, which, though nothing is said of +their success, seem to have recommended him to some notice; for his +praise of the countess’s music, and his lines on the famous picture of +Seneca, afford reason for imagining that he was more or less conversant +with that family. + +The same year he published “The City Mouse and Country Mouse,” to +ridicule Dryden’s “Hind and Panther,” in conjunction with Mr. Montague. +There is a story of great pain suffered, and of tears shed, on this +occasion by Dryden, who thought it hard that “an old man should be so +treated by those to whom he had always been civil.” By tales like these +is the envy raised by superior abilities every day gratified. When they +are attacked every one hopes to see them humbled; what is hoped is +readily believed, and what is believed is confidently told. Dryden had +been more accustomed to hostilities than that such enemies should break +his quiet; and, if we can suppose him vexed, it would be hard to deny him +sense enough to conceal his uneasiness. + +“The City Mouse and Country Mouse” procured its authors more solid +advantages than the pleasure of fretting Dryden, for they were both +speedily preferred. Montague, indeed, obtained the first notice with +some degree of discontent, as it seems, in Prior, who probably knew that +his own part of the performance was the best. He had not, however, much +reason to complain, for he came to London and obtained such notice that +(in 1691) he was sent to the Congress at the Hague as secretary to the +embassy. In this assembly of princes and nobles, to which Europe has +perhaps scarcely seen anything equal, was formed the grand alliance +against Louis, which at last did not produce effects proportionate so the +magnificence of the transaction. + +The conduct of Prior, in this splendid initiation into public business, +was so pleasing to King William, that he made him one of the gentlemen of +his bedchamber; and he is supposed to have passed some of the next years +in the quiet cultivation of literature and poetry. + +The death of Queen Mary (in 1695) produced a subject for all the +writers—perhaps no funeral was ever so poetically attended. Dryden, +indeed, as a man discountenanced and deprived, was silent; but scarcely +any other maker of verses omitted to bring his tribute of tuneful sorrow. +An emulation of elegy was universal. Mary’s praise was not confined to +the English language, but fills a great part of the _Musæ Anglicanæ_. + +Prior, who was both a poet and a courtier, was too diligent to miss this +opportunity of respect. He wrote a long ode, which was presented to the +king, by whom it was not likely to be ever read. In two years he was +secretary to another embassy at the Treaty of Ryswick (in 1697), and next +year had the same office at the court of France, where he is said to have +been considered with great distinction. As he was one day surveying the +apartments at Versailles, being shown the “Victories of Louis,” painted +by Le Brun, and asked whether the King of England’s palace had any such +decorations: “The monuments of my master’s actions,” said he, “are to be +seen everywhere but in his own house.” + +The pictures of Le Brun are not only in themselves sufficiently +ostentatious, but were explained by inscriptions so arrogant, that +Boileau and Racine thought it necessary to make them more simple. He was +in the following year at Leo with the king, from whom, after a long +audience, he carried orders to England, and upon his arrival became Under +Secretary of State in the Earl of Jersey’s office, a post which he did +not retain long, because Jersey was removed, but he was soon made +Commissioner of Trade. + +This year (1700) produced one of his longest and most splendid +compositions, the “Carmen Seculare,” in which he exhausts all his powers +of celebration. I mean not to accuse him of flattery; he probably +thought all that he writ, and retained as much veracity as can be +properly exacted from a poet professedly encomiastic. King William +supplied copious materials for either verse or prose. His whole life had +been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent qualities of steady +resolution and personal courage. He was really in Prior’s mind what he +represents him in his verses; he considered him as a hero, and was +accustomed to say that he praised others in compliance with the fashion, +but that in celebrating King William he followed his inclination. To +Prior, gratitude would dictate praise, which reason would not refuse. + +Among the advantages to arise from the future years of William’s reign, +he mentions a Society for Useful Arts, and among them:— + + “Some that with care true eloquence shall teach, + And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech; + That from our writers distant realms may know + The thanks we to our monarchs owe, + And schools profess our tongue through every land + That has invoked his aid, or blessed his hand.” + +Tickell, in his “Prospect of Peace,” has the same hope of a new academy:— + + “In happy chains our daring language bound, + Shall sport no more in arbitrary sound.” + +Whether the similitude of those passages, which exhibit the same thought +on the same occasion, proceeded from accident or imitation, is not easy +to determine. Tickell might have been impressed with his expectation by +Swift’s “Proposal for Ascertaining the English Language,” then lately +published. + +In the Parliament that met in 1701 he was chosen representative of East +Grinstead. Perhaps it was about this time that he changed his party, for +he voted for the impeachment of those lords who had persuaded the king to +the Partition Treaty, a treaty in which he himself had been ministerially +employed. + +A great part of Queen Anne’s reign was a time of war, in which there was +little employment for negotiators, and Prior had, therefore, leisure to +make or to polish verses. When the Battle of Blenheim called forth all +the verse-men, Prior, among the rest, took care to show his delight in +the increasing honour of his country by an epistle to Boileau. He +published, soon afterwards, a volume of poems, with the encomiastic +character of his deceased patron, the Earl of Dorset. It began with the +College exercise, and ended with the “Nutbrown Maid.” + +The Battle of Ramillies soon afterwards (in 1706) excited him to another +effort of poetry. On this occasion he had fewer or less formidable +rivals, and it would be not easy to name any other composition produced +by that event which is now remembered. + +Everything has its day. Through the reigns of William and Anne no +prosperous event passed undignified by poetry. In the last war, when +France was disgraced and overpowered in every quarter of the globe, when +Spain, coming to her assistance, only shared her calamities, and the name +of an Englishman was reverenced through Europe, no poet was heard amidst +the general acclamation; the fame of our counsellors and heroes was +entrusted to the _Gazetteer_. The nation in time grew weary of the war, +and the queen grew weary of her ministers. The war was burdensome, and +the ministers were insolent. Harley and his friends began to hope that +they might, by driving the Whigs from court and from power, gratify at +once the queen and the people. There was now a call for writers, who +might convey intelligence of past abuses, and show the waste of public +money, the unreasonable conduct of the allies, the avarice of generals, +the tyranny of minions, and the general danger of approaching ruin. For +this purpose a paper called the _Examiner_ was periodically published, +written, as it happened, by any wit of the party, and sometimes, as is +said, by Mrs. Manley. Some are owned by Swift; and one, in ridicule of +Garth’s verses to Godolphin upon the loss of his place, was written by +Prior, and answered by Addison, who appears to have known the author +either by conjecture or intelligence. + +The Tories, who were now in power, were in haste to end the war, and +Prior, being recalled (1710) to his former employment of making treaties, +was sent (July, 1711) privately to Paris with propositions of peace. He +was remembered at the French court; and, returning in about a month, +brought with him the Abbé Gaultier and M. Mesnager, a minister from +France, invested with full powers. This transaction not being avowed, +Mackay, the master of the Dover packet-boat, either zealously or +officiously, seized Prior and his associates at Canterbury. It is easily +supposed they were soon released. + +The negotiation was begun at Prior’s house, where the queen’s ministers +met Mesnager (September 20, 1711), and entered privately upon the great +business. The importance of Prior appears from the mention made of him +by St. John in his letter to the queen:— + +“My Lord Treasurer moved, and all my Lords were of the same opinion, that +Mr. Prior should be added to those who are empowered to sign; the reason +for which is because he, having personally treated with Monsieur de +Torcy, is the best witness we can produce of the sense in which the +general preliminary engagements are entered into; besides which, as he is +the best versed in matters of trade of all your Majesty’s servants who +have been trusted in this secret, if you shall think fit to employ him in +the future treaty of commerce, it will be of consequence that he has been +a party concerned in concluding that convention, which must be the rule +of this treaty.” + +The assembly of this important night was in some degree clandestine, the +design of treaty not being yet openly declared and when the Whigs +returned to power was aggravated to a charge of high treason; though, as +Prior remarks in his imperfect answer to the Report of the Committee of +Secrecy, no treaty ever was made without private interviews and +preliminary discussions. + +My business is not the history of the peace, but the life of Prior. The +conferences began at Utrecht on the 1st of January (1711–12), and the +English plenipotentiaries arrived on the 15th. The ministers of the +different potentates conferred and conferred; but the peace advanced so +slowly that speedier methods were found necessary, and Bolingbroke was +sent to Paris to adjust differences with less formality. Prior either +accompanied him or followed him, and after his departure had the +appointments and authority of an ambassador, though no public character. +By some mistake of the queen’s orders the court of France had been +disgusted, and Bolingbroke says in his letter, “Dear Mat,—Hide the +nakedness of thy country, and give the best turn thy fertile brain will +furnish thee with to the blunders of thy countrymen, who are not much +better politicians than the French are poets.” + +Soon after, the Duke of Shrewsbury went on a formal embassy to Paris. It +is related by Boyer that the intention was to have joined Prior in the +commission, but that Shrewsbury refused to be associated with a man so +meanly born. Prior therefore continued to act without a title till the +duke returned next year to England, and then he assumed the style and +dignity of ambassador. But while he continued in appearance a private +man, he was treated with confidence by Louis, who sent him with a letter +to the queen, written in favour of the Elector of Bavaria. “I shall +expect,” says he, “with impatience, the return of Mr. Prior, whose +conduct is very agreeable to me.” And while the Duke of Shrewsbury was +still at Paris, Bolingbroke wrote to Prior thus:—“Monsieur de Torcy has a +confidence in you; make use of it, once for all, upon this occasion, and +convince him thoroughly that we must give a different turn to our +Parliament and our people according to their resolution at this crisis.” + +Prior’s public dignity and splendour commenced in August, 1713, and +continued till the August following; but I am afraid that, according to +the usual fate of greatness, it was attended with some perplexities and +mortifications. He had not all that is customarily given to ambassadors: +he hints to the queen in an imperfect poem that he had no service of +plate; and it appeared by the debts which he contracted that his +remittances were not punctually made. + +On the 1st of August, 1714, ensued the downfall of the Tories and the +degradation of Prior. He was recalled, but was not able to return, being +detained by the debts which he had found it necessary to contract, and +which were not discharged before March, though his old friend Montague +was now at the head of the Treasury. He returned, then, as soon as he +could, and was welcomed on the 25th of March by a warrant, but was, +however, suffered to live in his own house, under the custody of the +messenger, till he was examined before a committee of the Privy Council, +of which Mr. Walpole was chairman, and Lord Coningsby, Mr. Stanhope, and +Mr. Lechmere were the principal interrogators, who, in this examination, +of which there is printed an account not unentertaining, behaved with the +boisterousness of men elated by recent authority. They are represented +as asking questions sometimes vague, sometimes insidious, and writing +answers different from those which they received. Prior, however, seems +to have been overpowered by their turbulence; for he confesses that he +signed what, if he had ever come before a legal judicature, he should +have contradicted or explained away. The oath was administered by +Boscawen, a Middlesex justice, who at last was going to write his +attestation on the wrong side of the paper. They were very industrious +to find some charge against Oxford, and asked Prior, with great +earnestness, who was present when the preliminary articles were talked of +or signed at his house? He told them that either the Earl of Oxford or +the Duke of Shrewsbury was absent, but he could not remember which, an +answer which perplexed them, because it supplied no accusation against +either. “Could anything be more absurd,” says he, “or more inhuman, than +to propose to me a question, by the answering of which I might, according +to them, prove myself a traitor? And notwithstanding their solemn +promise that nothing which I should say should hurt myself, I had no +reason to trust them, for they violated that promise about five hours +after. However, I owned I was there present. Whether this was wisely +done or no I leave to my friends to determine.” When he had signed the +paper, he was told by Walpole that the committee were not satisfied with +his behaviour, nor could give such an account of it to the Commons as +might merit favour; and that they now thought a stricter confinement +necessary than to his own house. “Here,” says he, “Boscawen played the +moralist, and Coningsby the Christian, but both very awkwardly.” The +messenger, in whose custody he was to be placed, was then called, and +very indecently asked by Coningsby “if his house was secured by bars and +bolts.” The messenger answered, “No,” with astonishment. At which +Coningsby very angrily said, “Sir, you must secure this prisoner; it is +for the safety of the nation: if he escape, you shall answer for it.” + +They had already printed their report; and in this examination were +endeavouring to find proofs. + +He continued thus confined for some time; and Mr. Walpole (June 10, 1715) +moved for an impeachment against him. What made him so acrimonious does +not appear; he was by nature no thirster for blood. Prior was a week +after committed to close custody, with orders that “no person should be +admitted to see him without leave from the Speaker.” When, two years +after, an Act of Grace was passed, he was excepted, and continued still +in custody, which he had made less tedious by writing his “Alma.” He +was, however, soon after discharged. He had now his liberty, but he had +nothing else. Whatever the profit of his employments might have been, he +had always spent it; and at the age of fifty-three was, with all his +abilities, in danger of penury, having yet no solid revenue but from the +fellowship of his college, which, when in his exaltation he was censured +for retaining it, he said he could live upon at last. Being, however, +generally known and esteemed, he was encouraged to add other poems to +those which he had printed, and to publish them by subscription. The +expedient succeeded by the industry of many friends, who circulated the +proposals, and the care of some who, it is said, withheld the money from +him lest he should squander it. The price of the volume was two guineas; +the whole collection was four thousand; to which Lord Harley, the son of +the Earl of Oxford, to whom he had invariably adhered, added an equal sum +for the purchase of Down Hall, which Prior was to enjoy during life, and +Harley after his decease. He had now, what wits and philosophers have +often wished, the power of passing the day in contemplative tranquillity. +But it seems that busy men seldom live long in a state of quiet. It is +not unlikely that his health declined, he complains of deafness; “for,” +says he, “I took little care of my ears while I was not sure if my head +was my own.” + +Of any occurrences of his remaining life I have found no account. In a +letter to Swift, “I have,” says he, “treated Lady Harriet, at Cambridge +(a Fellow of a College treat!) and spoke verses to her in a gown and cap! +What, the plenipotentiary, so far concerned in the damned peace at +Utrecht; the man that makes up half the volume of terse prose, that makes +up the report of the committee, speaking verses! _Sic est_, _homo sum_.” + +He died at Wimpole, a seat of the Earl of Oxford, on the 18th of +September, 1721, and was buried in Westminster; where on a monument, for +which, as the “last piece of human vanity,” he left five hundred pounds, +is engraven this epitaph:— + + Sui Temporis Historiam meditanti, + Paulatim obrepens Febris + Operi simul et Vitæ filum abrupit, + Sept. 18. An. Dom. 1721. Ætat. 57. + H.S.E. + Vir Eximius Serenissimis + Regi GULIELMO Reginæque MARIÆ + In Congressione Fœderatorum + Hagæ anno 1690 celebrata, + Deinde Magnæ Britanniæ Legatis + Tum iis, + Qui anno 1697 Pacem RYSWICKI confecerunt, + Tum iis, + Qui apud Gallos annie proximis Legationem obierunt + Eodem etiani anno 1657 in Hiberniâ + SECRETARIUS; + Necnon in utroque Honorabili consessu + Eorum, + Qui anno 1700 ordinandis Commercii negotiis, + Quique anno 1711 dirigendis Portorii rebus, + Præidebant, + COMMISSIONARIUS; + Postremo ab ANNA, + Felicissimæ memoriæ Reginâ, + Ad LUDOVICUM XIV. Galliæ Regem + Missus anno 1711 + De Pace stabiliendâ + (Pace etiam num durante + Diuque ut boni jam omnes sperant duraturâ), + Cum sunmâ potestate Legatus; + MATTHÆS PRIOR Armiger + Qui + Hos omnes, quibus cumulates est, Titulos + Humanitatis, Ingenii, Ereditionis laude + Superavit; + Cui enim nascenti faciles arriserant Mesæ. + Hunc Puerum Schola hîc Regia perpolivit; + Jevenem in Collegio S’ti Johannis + Cantabrigia optimis Scientiis instruxit; + Virum denique auxit, et perfecit, + Multa cum viris Principibus censuetudo; + Ita natus, ita institutus, + A Vatam Choro avelli numquam potuit, + Sed solebat sæpe rerum civilium gravitatem + Amœniorum Literarum Studiis condire: + Et cum omne adeo Poeticës genus + Haud infeliciter tentaret, + Tum in Fabellis concinne lepideque texendis + Mirus Artifex + Neminem habuit parem. + Hæc liberalis animi oblectamenta: + Quam nullo illi labore constiterint, + Facile ii perspexêre, quibus usus est Amici; + Apud quos Urbanitatem et Leporum plenus + Cum ad rem, quæcunque forte inciderat, + Aptè varie copiosèque alluderet, + Interea nihil quæsitum, nihil vi expressum + Videbatur, + Sed omnia ultro effluere, + Et quasi jugi è foote affatim exuberare, + Ita suos tandem dubios reliquit, + Essetne in Scriptis, Poeta Elegantior, + An in Convictu, Comes Jocundior. + +Of Prior, eminent as he was, both by his abilities and station, very few +memorials have been left by his contemporaries; the account, therefore, +must now be destitute of his private character and familiar practices. +He lived at a time when the rage of party detected all which it was any +man’s interest to hide; and, as little ill is heard of Prior, it is +certain that not much was known. He was not afraid of provoking censure; +for when he forsook the Whigs, under whose patronage he first entered the +world, he became a Tory so ardent and determinate, that he did not +willingly consort with men of different opinions. He was one of the +sixteen Tories who met weekly, and agreed to address each other by the +title of _Brother_; and seems to have adhered, not only by concurrence of +political designs, but by peculiar affection, to the Earl of Oxford and +his family. With how much confidence he was trusted has been already +told. + +He was, however, in Pope’s opinion, fit only to make verses, and less +qualified for business than Addison himself. This was surely said +without consideration. Addison, exalted to a high place, was forced into +degradation by the sense of his own incapacity; Prior, who was employed +by men very capable of estimating his value, having been secretary to one +embassy, had, when great abilities were again wanted, the same office +another time; and was, after so much experience of his own knowledge and +dexterity, at last sent to transact a negotiation in the highest degree +arduous and important, for which he was qualified, among other +requisites, in the opinion of Bolingbroke, by his influence upon the +French minister, and by skill in questions of commerce above other men. + +Of his behaviour in the lighter parts of life, it is too late to get much +intelligence. One of his answers to a boastful Frenchman has been +related; and to an impertinent he made another equally proper. During +his embassy he sat at the opera by a man who, in his rapture, accompanied +with his own voice the principal singer. + +Prior fell to railing at the performer with all the terms of reproach +that he could collect, till the Frenchman, ceasing from his song, began +to expostulate with him for his harsh censure of a man who was +confessedly the ornament of the stage. “I know all that,” says the +ambassador, “mais il chante si haut, que je ne sçaurois vous entendre.” + +In a gay French company, where every one sang a little song or stanza, of +which the burden was “Bannissons la Mélancolie,” when it came to his turn +to sing, after the performance of a young lady that sat next him, he +produced these extemporary lines:— + + “Mais cette voix, et ces beaux yeux, + Font Cupidon trop dangereux, + Et je suis triste quand je crie + Bannissons la Mélancolie.” + +Tradition represents him as willing to descend from the dignity of the +poet and statesman to the low delights of mean company. His Chloe +probably was sometimes ideal: but the woman with whom he cohabited was a +despicable drab of the lowest species. One of his wenches, perhaps +Chloe, while he was absent from his house, stole his plate and ran away, +as was related by a woman who had been his servant. Of his propensity to +sordid converse, I have seen an account so seriously ridiculous, that it +seems to deserve insertion. + +“I have been assured that Prior, after having spent the evening with +Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift, would go and smoke a pipe and drink +a bottle of ale with a common soldier and his wife in Long Acre before he +went to bed, not from any remains of the lowness of his original, as one +said, but I suppose that his faculties— + + “‘—strained to the height, + In that celestial colloquy sublime, + Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repair.’” + +Poor Prior; why was he so _strained_, and in such _want of repair_, after +a conversation with men not, in the opinion of the world, much wiser than +himself? But such are the conceits of speculatists, who _strain_ their +_faculties_ to find in a mine what lies upon the surface. His opinions, +so far as the means of judging are left us, seem to have been right; but +his life was, it seems, irregular, negligent, and sensual. + + * * * * * + +PRIOR has written with great variety, and his variety has made him +popular. He has tried all styles, from the grotesque to the solemn, and +has not so failed in any as to incur derision or disgrace. His works may +be distinctly considered as comprising Tales, Love Verses, Occasional +Poems, “Alma,” and “Solomon.” + +His tales have obtained general approbation, being written with great +familiarity and great sprightliness; the language is easy, but seldom +gross, and the numbers smooth, without appearance of care. Of these +tales there are only four: “The Ladle,” which is introduced by a preface, +neither necessary nor pleasing, neither grave nor merry. “Paulo +Purganti,” which has likewise a preface, but of more value than the tale. +“Hans Carvel,” not over-decent; and “Protogenes and Apelles,” an old +story mingled, by an affectation not disagreeable, with modern images. +“The Young Gentleman in Love” has hardly a just claim to the title of a +tale. I know not whether he be the original author of any tale which he +has given us. The adventure of Hans Carvel has passed through many +successions of merry wits, for it is to be found in Ariosto’s “Satires,” +and is perhaps yet older. But the merit of such stories is the art of +telling them. + +In his amorous effusions he is less happy; for they are not dictated by +nature or by passion, and have neither gallantry nor tenderness. They +have the coldness of Cowley, without his wit, the dull exercises of a +skilful versifier, resolved at all adventures to write something about +Chloe, and trying to be amorous by dint of study. His fictions, +therefore, are mythological. Venus, after the example of the Greek +epigram, asks when she was seen _naked and bathing_. Then Cupid is +_mistaken_; then Cupid is _disarmed_; then he loses his darts to +Ganymede; then Jupiter sends him a summons by Mercury. Then Chloe goes +a-hunting with an _ivory quiver graceful at her side_; Diana mistakes her +for one of her nymphs, and Cupid laughs at the blunder. All this is +surely despicable; and even when he tries to act the lover without the +help of gods or goddesses, his thoughts are unaffecting or remote. He +talks not “like a man of this world.” + +The greatest of all his amorous essays is “Henry and Emma,” a dull and +tedious dialogue, which excites neither esteem for the man nor tenderness +for the woman. The example of Emma, who resolves to follow an outlawed +murderer wherever fear and guilt shall drive him, deserves no imitation; +and the experiment by which Henry tries the lady’s constancy is such as +must end either in infamy to her or in disappointment to himself. + +His occasional poems necessarily lost part of their value, as their +occasions, being less remembered, raised less emotion, Some of them, +however, are preserved by their inherent excellence. The burlesque of +Boileau’s ode on Namur has in some parts such airiness and levity as will +always procure it readers, even among those who cannot compare it with +the original. The epistle to Boileau is not so happy. The “Poems to the +King,” are now perused only by young students, who read merely that they +may learn to write; and of the “Carmen Seculare,” I cannot but suspect +that I might praise or censure it by caprice without danger of detection; +for who can be supposed to have laboured through it? Yet the time has +been when this neglected work was so popular that it was translated into +Latin by no common master. + +His poem on the Battle of Ramillies is necessarily tedious by the form of +the stanza. An uniform mass of ten lines thirty-five times repeated, +inconsequential and slightly connected, must weary both the ear and the +understanding. His imitation of Spenser, which consists principally in +_I ween_ and _I weet_, without exclusion of later modes of speech, makes +his poem neither ancient nor modern. His mention of Mars and Bellona, +and his comparison of Marlborough to the eagle that bears the thunder of +Jupiter, are all puerile and unaffecting; and yet more despicable is the +long tale told by Louis in his despair of Brute and Troynovante, and the +teeth of Cadmus, with his similes of the raven and eagle and wolf and +lion. By the help of such easy fictions and vulgar topics, without +acquaintance with life, and without knowledge of art or nature, a poem of +any length, cold and lifeless like this, may be easily written on any +subject. + +In his epilogues to Phædra and to Lucius he is very happily facetious; +but in the prologue before the queen the pedant has found his way with +Minerva, Perseus, and Andromeda. + +His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others, sometimes +elegant, sometimes trifling, and sometimes dull; among the best are the +“Chamelion” and the epitaph on John and Joan. + +Scarcely any one of our poets has written so much and translated so +little: the version of Callimachus is sufficiently licentious; the +paraphrase on St. Paul’s Exhortation to Charity is eminently beautiful. + +“Alma” is written in professed imitation of “Hudibras,” and has at least +one accidental resemblance: “Hudibras” wants a plan because it is left +imperfect; “Alma” is imperfect because it seems never to have had a plan. +Prior appears not to have proposed to himself any drift or design, but to +have written the casual dictates of the present moment. + +What Horace said when he imitated Lucilius, might be said of Butler by +Prior; his numbers were not smooth nor neat. Prior excelled him in +versification; but he was, like Horace, _inventore minor_; he had not +Butler’s exuberance of matter and variety of illustration. The spangles +of wit which he could afford he knew how to polish; but he wanted the +bullion of his master. Butler pours out a negligent profusion, certain +of the weight, but careless of the stamp. Prior has comparatively +little, but with that little he makes a fine show. “Alma” has many +admirers, and was the only piece among Prior’s works of which Pope said +that he should wish to be the author. + +“Solomon” is the work to which he entrusted the protection of his name, +and which he expected succeeding ages to regard with veneration. His +affection was natural; it had undoubtedly been written with great labour; +and who is willing to think that he has been labouring in vain? He had +infused into it much knowledge and much thought; had often polished it to +elegance, often dignified it with splendour, and sometimes heightened it +to sublimity: he perceived in it many excellences, and did not discover +that it wanted that without which all others are of small avail—the power +of engaging attention and alluring curiosity. + +Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negligence or errors are +single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole; other faults are +censured and forgotten, but the power of tediousness propagates itself. +He that is weary the first hour is more weary the second, as bodies +forced into motion, contrary to their tendency, pass more and more slowly +through every successive interval of space. Unhappily this pernicious +failure is that which an author is least able to discover. We are seldom +tiresome to ourselves; and the act of composition fills and delights the +mind with change of language and succession of images. Every couplet, +when produced, is new, and novelty is the great source of pleasure. +Perhaps no man ever thought a line superfluous when he first wrote it, or +contracted his work till his ebullitions of invention had subsided. And +even if he should control his desire of immediate renown, and keep his +work _nine years_ unpublished, he will be still the author, and still in +danger of deceiving himself: and if he consults his friends he will +probably find men who have more kindness than judgment, or more fear to +offend than desire to instruct. The tediousness of this poem proceeds +not from the uniformity of the subject, for it is sufficiently +diversified, but from the continued tenor of the narration; in which +Solomon relates the successive vicissitudes of his own mind without the +intervention of any other speaker or the mention of any other agent, +unless it be Abra; the reader is only to learn what he thought, and to be +told that he thought wrong. The event of every experiment is foreseen, +and therefore the process is not much regarded. Yet the work is far from +deserving to be neglected. He that shall peruse it will be able to mark +many passages to which he may recur for instruction or delight; many from +which the poet may learn to write and the philosopher to reason. + +If Prior’s poetry be generally considered, his praise will be that of +correctness and industry, rather than of compass of comprehension or +activity of fancy. He never made any effort of invention: his greater +pieces are only tissues of common thoughts; and his smaller, which +consist of light images or single conceits, are not always his own. I +have traced him among the French epigrammatists, and have been informed +that he poached for prey among obscure authors. The “Thief and +Cordelier” is, I suppose, generally considered as an original production, +with how much justice this epigram may tell, which was written by +Georgius Sabinus, a poet now little known or read, though once the friend +of Luther and Melancthon:— + + “De _Sacerdote Furem consolante_. + + “Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus euntem + Huc ubi dat sontes carnificina neci. + Ne sis mœstus, ait; summi conviva Tonantis + Jam cum coelitibus (si modo credis) eris. + Ille gemens, si vera mihi solatia præbes, + Hospes apud superos sis meus oro, refert. + Sacrificus contra; mihi non convivia fas est + Ducere, jejunas hac edo luce nihil.” + +What he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his judgment. His +diligence has justly placed him amongst the most correct of the English +poets; and he was one of the first that resolutely endeavoured at +correctness. He never sacrifices accuracy to haste, nor indulges himself +in contemptuous negligence, or impatient idleness; he has no careless +lines, or entangled sentiments; his words are nicely selected, and his +thoughts fully expanded. If this part of his character suffers an +abatement, it must be from the disproportion of his rhymes, which have +not always sufficient consonance, and from the admission of broken lines +into his “Solomon;” but perhaps he thought, like Cowley, that hemistichs +ought to be admitted into heroic poetry. + +He had apparently such rectitude of judgment as secured him from +everything that approached to the ridiculous or absurd; but as law +operates in civil agency, not to the excitement of virtue, but the +repression of wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect can +hinder faults, but not produce excellence. Prior is never low, nor very +often sublime. It is said by Longinus of Euripides, that he forces +himself sometimes into grandeur by violence of effort, as the lion +kindles his fury by the lashes of his own tail. Whatever Prior obtains +above mediocrity seems the effort of struggle and of toil. He has many +vigorous, but few happy lines; he has everything by purchase, and nothing +by gift; he had no _nightly visitations_ of the Muse, no infusions of +sentiment or felicities of fancy. His diction, however, is more his own +than of any among the successors of Dryden; he borrows no lucky turns, or +commodious modes of language, from his predecessors. His phrases are +original, but they are sometimes harsh; as he inherited no elegances, +none has he bequeathed. His expression has every mark of laborious +study, the line seldom seems to have been formed at once; the words did +not come till they were called, and were then put by constraint into +their places, where they do their duty, but do it sullenly. In his +greater compositions there may be found more rigid stateliness than +graceful dignity. + +Of versification he was not negligent. What he received from Dryden he +did not lose; neither did he increase the difficulty of writing by +unnecessary severity, but uses triplets and alexandrines without scruple. +In his preface to “Solomon” he proposes some improvements by extending +the sense from one couplet to another with variety of pauses. This he +has attempted, but without success; his interrupted lines are unpleasing, +and his sense, as less distinct, is less striking. He has altered the +stanza of Spenser as a house is altered by building another in its place +of a different form. With how little resemblance he has formed his new +stanza to that of his master these specimens will show:— + + SPENSER. + + “She flying fast from Heaven’s fated face, + And from the world that her discovered wide, + Fled to the wasteful wilderness space, + From living eyes her open shame to hide, + And lurked in rocks and caves long unespied. + But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair, + Did in that castle afterwards abide, + To rest themselves, and weary powers repair, + Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare?” + + PRIOR. + + “To the close rock the frightened raven flies, + Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air; + The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies, + When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near. + Ill-starred did we our forts and lines forsake, + To dare our British foes to open fight: + Our conquest we by stratagem should make; + Our triumph had been founded in our flight. + ’Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain; + ’Tis theirs to meet in arms, and battle in the plain.” + +By this new structure of his lines he has avoided difficulties; nor am I +sure that he has lost any of the power of pleasing, but he no longer +imitates Spencer. Some of his poems are written without regularity of +measures; for, when he commenced poet, he had not recovered from our +Pindaric infatuation; but he probably lived to be convinced that the +essence of verse is order and consonance. His numbers are such as mere +diligence may attain; they seldom offend the ear, and seldom soothe it; +they commonly want airiness, lightness, and facility. What is smooth is +not soft. His verses always roll, but they seldom flow. + +A survey of the life and writings of Prior may exemplify a sentence which +he doubtless understood well when he read Horace at his uncle’s, “The +vessel long retains the scent which it first receives.” In his private +relaxation he revived the tavern, and in his amorous pedantry he +exhibited the college. But on higher occasions and nobler subjects, when +habit was overpowered by the necessity of reflection, he wanted not +wisdom as a statesman, or elegance as a poet. + + + + +CONGREVE. + + +WILLIAM CONGREVE descended from a family in Staffordshire of so great +antiquity, that it claims a place among the few that extend their hue +beyond the Norman Conquest, and was the son of William Congreve, second +son of Richard Congreve, of Congreve and Stratton. He visited, once at +least, the residence of his ancestors; and, I believe, more places than +one are still shown in groves and gardens, where he is related to have +written his _Old Bachelor_. + +Neither the time nor place of his birth is certainly known. If the +inscription upon his monument be true, he was born in 1672. For the +place, it was said by himself that he owed his nativity to England, and +by everybody else that he was born in Ireland. Southern mentioned him +with sharp censure as a man that meanly disowned his native country. The +biographers assigned his nativity to Bardsa, near Leeds, in Yorkshire, +from the account given by himself, as they suppose, to Jacob. To doubt +whether a man of eminence has told the truth about his own birth is, in +appearance, to be very deficient in candour; yet nobody can live long +without knowing that falsehoods of convenience or vanity, falsehoods from +which no evil immediately visible ensues, except the general degradation +of human testimony, are very lightly uttered, and once uttered are +sullenly supported. Boileau, who desired to be thought a rigorous and +steady moralist, having told a pretty lie to Louis XIV., continued it +afterwards by false dates; thinking himself obliged _in honour_, says his +admirer, to maintain what, when he said it, was so well received. +[Congreve was baptised at Bardsey, February 10, 1670.] + +Wherever Congreve was born, he was educated first at Kilkenny, and +afterwards at Dublin, his father having some military employment that +stationed him in Ireland; but after having passed through the usual +preparatory studies, as may be reasonably supposed, with great celerity +and success, his father thought it proper to assign him a profession, by +which something might be gotten, and about the time of the Revolution +sent him, at the age of sixteen, to study law in the Middle Temple, where +he lived for several years, but with very little attention to statutes or +reports. His disposition to become an author appeared very early, as he +very early felt that force of imagination, and possessed that copiousness +of sentiment, by which intellectual pleasure can be given. His first +performance was a novel called “Incognita; or, Love and Duty Reconciled;” +it is praised by the biographers, who quote some part of the preface, +that is, indeed, for such a time of life, uncommonly judicious. I would +rather praise it than read it. + +His first dramatic labour was _The Old Bachelor_, of which he says, in +his defence against Collier, “That comedy was written, as several know, +some years before it was acted. When I wrote it I had little thoughts of +the stage; but did it to amuse myself in a slow recovery from a fit of +sickness. Afterwards, through my indiscretion it was seen, and in some +little time more it was acted; and I, through the remainder of my +indiscretion suffered myself to be drawn into the prosecution of a +difficult and thankless study, and to be involved in a perpetual war with +knaves and fools.” + +There seems to be a strange affectation in authors of appearing to have +done everything by chance. _The Old Bachelor_ was written for amusement +in the languor of convalescence. Yet it is apparently composed with +great elaborateness of dialogue, and incessant ambition of wit. The age +of the writer considered, it is indeed a very wonderful performance; for, +whenever written, it was acted (1693) when he was not more than +twenty-one years old; and was then recommended by Mr. Dryden, Mr. +Southern, and Mr. Maynwaring. Dryden said that he never had seen such a +first play; but they found it deficient in some things necessary to the +success of its exhibition, and by their greater experience fitted it for +the stage. Southern used to relate of one comedy, probably of this, that +when Congreve read it to the players he pronounced it so wretchedly, that +they had almost rejected it; but they were afterwards so well persuaded +of its excellence that, for half a year before it was acted, the manager +allowed its author the privilege of the house. + +Few plays have ever been so beneficial to the writer, for it procured him +the patronage of Halifax, who immediately made him one of the +commissioners for licensing coaches, and soon after gave him a place in +the Pipe-office, and another in the Customs, of six hundred pounds a +year. Congreve’s conversation must surely have been at least equally +pleasing with his writings. + +Such a comedy, written at such an age, requires some consideration. As +the lighter species of dramatic poetry professes the imitation of common +life, of real manners, and daily incidents, it apparently presupposes a +familiar knowledge of many characters, and exact observation of the +passing world; the difficulty, therefore, is to conceive how this +knowledge can be obtained by a boy. + +But if _The Old Bachelor_ be more nearly examined, it will be found to be +one of those comedies which may be made by a mind vigorous and acute, and +furnished with comic characters by the perusal of other poets, without +much actual commerce with mankind. The dialogue is one constant +reciprocation of conceits or clash of wit, in which nothing flows +necessarily from the occasion, or is dictated by nature. The characters, +both of men and women, are either fictitious and artificial, as those of +Heartwell and the ladies, or easy and common, as Wittol, a tame idiot; +Bluff, a swaggering coward; and Fondlewife, a jealous Puritan; and the +catastrophe arises from a mistake, not very probably produced, by +marrying a woman in a mask. Yet this gay comedy, when all these +deductions are made, will still remain the work of very powerful and +fertile faculties; the dialogue is quick and sparkling, the incidents +such as seize the attention, and the wit so exuberant that it +“o’er-informs its tenement.” + +Next year he gave another specimen of his abilities in _The Double +Dealer_, which was not received with equal kindness. He writes to his +patron the Lord Halifax a dedication, in which he endeavours to reconcile +the reader to that which found few friends among the audience. These +apologies are always useless: _de gestibus non est disputandem_. Men may +be convinced, but they cannot be pleased, against their will. But though +taste is obstinate, it is very variable, and time often prevails when +arguments have failed. Queen Mary conferred upon both those plays the +honour of her presence; and when she died soon after, Congreve testified +his gratitude by a despicable effusion of elegiac pastoral, a composition +in which all is unnatural and yet nothing is new. + +In another year (1695) his prolific pen produced _Love for Love_, a +comedy of nearer alliance to life, and exhibiting more real manners, than +either of the former. The character of Foresight was then common. +Dryden calculated nativities; both Cromwell and King William had their +lucky days; and Shaftesbury himself, though he had no religion, was said +to regard predictions. The Sailor is not accounted very natural, but he +is very pleasant. With this play was opened the New Theatre, under the +direction of Betterton, the tragedian, where he exhibited two years +afterwards (1687) _The Mourning Bride_, a tragedy, so written as to show +him sufficiently qualified for either kind of dramatic poetry. In this +play, of which, when he afterwards revised it, he reduced the +versification to greater regularity; there is more bustle than sentiment; +the plot is busy and intricate, and the events take hold on the +attention; but, except a very few passages, we are rather amused with +noise and perplexed with stratagem, than entertained with any true +delineation of natural characters. This, however, was received with more +benevolence than any other of his works, and still continues to be acted +and applauded. + +But whatever objections may be made either to his comic or tragic +excellence, they are lost at once in the blaze of admiration, when it is +remembered that he had produced these four plays before he had passed his +twenty-fifth year, before other men, even such as are some time to shine +in eminence, have passed their probation of literature, or presume to +hope for any other notice than such as is bestowed on diligence and +inquiry. Among all the efforts of early genius, which literary history +records, I doubt whether any one can be produced that more surpasses the +common limits of nature than the plays of Congreve. + +About this time began the long-continued controversy between Collier and +the poets. In the reign of Charles I. the Puritans had raised a violent +clamour against the drama, which they considered as an entertainment not +lawful to Christians, an opinion held by them in common with the Church +of Rome; and Prynne published “Histriomastix,” a huge volume in which +stage-plays were censured. The outrages and crimes of the Puritans +brought afterwards their whole system of doctrine into disrepute, and +from the Restoration the poets and players were left at quiet; for to +have molested them would have had the appearance of tendency to +puritanical malignity. This danger, however, was worn away by time, and +Collier, a fierce and implacable non-juror, knew that an attack upon the +theatre would never make him suspected for a Puritan; he therefore (1698) +published “A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English +Stage,” I believe with no other motive than religious zeal and honest +indignation. He was formed for a controvertist, with sufficient +learning, with diction vehement and pointed, though often vulgar and +incorrect, with unconquerable pertinacity, with wit in the highest degree +and sarcastic, and with all those powers exalted and invigorated by just +confidence in his cause. Thus qualified and thus incited, he walked out +to battle, and assailed at once most of the living writers, from Dryden +to Durfey. His onset was violent; those passages, which, while they +stood single, had passed with little notice, when they were accumulated +and exposed together, excited horror. The wise and the pious caught the +alarm, and the nation wondered why it had so long suffered irreligion and +licentiousness to be openly taught at the public charge. + +Nothing now remained for the poets but to resist or fly. Dryden’s +conscience or his prudence, angry as he was, withheld him from the +conflict. Congreve and Vanbrugh attempted answers. Congreve, a very +young man, elated with success, and impatient of censure, assumed an air +of confidence and security. His chief art of controversy is to retort +upon his adversary his own words: he is very angry, and hoping to conquer +Collier with his own weapons, allows himself in the use of every term of +contumely and contempt, but he has the sword without the arm of +Scanderbeg; he has his antagonist’s coarseness but not his strength. +Collier replied, for contest was his delight. “He was not to be frighted +from his purpose or his prey.” + +The cause of Congreve was not tenable; whatever glosses he might use for +the defence or palliation of single passages, the general tenour and +tendency of his plays must always be condemned. It is acknowledged, with +universal conviction, that the perusal of his works will make no man +better, and that their ultimate effect is to represent pleasure in +alliance with vice, and to relax those obligations by which life ought to +be regulated. + +The stage found other advocates, and the dispute was protracted through +ten years: but at last comedy grew more modest, and Collier lived to see +the reformation of the theatre. + +Of the powers by which this important victory was achieved, a quotation +from _Love for Love_, and the remark upon it, may afford a specimen:— + +_Sir Samps_. “Sampson’s a very good name; for your Sampsons were strong +dogs from the beginning.” + +_Angel_. “Have a care—if you remember, the strongest Sampson of your +name pulled an old house over his head at last.” + +“Here you have the sacred history burlesqued, and Sampson once more +brought into the house of Dagon, to make sport for the Philistines!” + +Congreve’s last play was _The Way of The World_, which, though, as he +hints in him dedication it was written with great labour and much +thought, was received with so little favour, that being in a high degree +offended and disgusted, he resolved to commit his quiet and his fame no +more to the caprices of an audience. + +From this time his life ceased to be public; he lived for himself and his +friends, and among his friends was able to name every man of his time +whom wit and elegance had raised to reputation. It may be therefore +reasonably supposed that his manners were polite, and his conversation +pleasing. He seems not to have taken much pleasure in writing, as he +contributed nothing to the _Spectator_, and only one paper to the +_Tatler_, though published by men with whom he might be supposed willing +to associate: and though he lived many years after the publication of his +“Miscellaneous Poems,” yet he added nothing to them, but lived on in +literary indolence, engaged in no controversy, contending with no rival, +neither soliciting flattery by public commendations, nor provoking enmity +by malignant criticism, but passing his time among the great and +splendid, in the placid enjoyment of his fame and fortune. + +Having owed his fortune to Halifax, he continued, always of his patron’s +party, but, as it seems, without violence or acrimony, and his firmness +was naturally esteemed, as his abilities were reverenced. His security +therefore was never violated; and when, upon the extrusion of the Whigs, +some intercession was used lest Congreve should be displaced, the Earl of +Oxford made this answer:— + + “Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora Pœni, + Nec tam aversus equos Tyriâ sol jungit ab urbe.” + +He that was thus honoured by the adverse party might naturally expect to +be advanced when his friends returned to power, and he was accordingly +made secretary for the island of Jamaica, a place, I suppose without +trust or care, but which, with his post in the Customs, is said to have +afforded him twelve hundred pounds a year. His honours were yet far +greater than his profits. Every writer mentioned him with respect, and +among other testimonies to his merit, Steele made him the patron of his +“Miscellany,” and Pope inscribed to him his translations of the “Iliad.” +But he treated the muses with ingratitude; for, having long conversed +familiarly with the great, he wished to be considered rather as a man of +fashion than of wit; and, when he received a visit from Voltaire, +disgusted him by the despicable foppery of desiring to be considered not +as an author but a gentleman; to which the Frenchman replied, “that, if +he had been only a gentleman, he should not have come to visit him.” + +In his retirement he may be supposed to have applied himself to books, +for he discovers more literature than the poets have commonly attained. +But his studies were in his later days obstructed by cataracts in his +eyes, which at last terminated in blindness. This melancholy state was +aggravated by the gout, for which he sought relief by a journey to Bath: +but, being overturned in his chariot, complained from that time of a pain +in his side, and died at his house in Surrey Street in the Strand, +January 29, 1728–9. Having lain in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, he +was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument is erected to his +memory by Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough, to whom, for reasons either +not known or not mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of about ten thousand +pounds, the accumulation of attentive parsimony, which, though to her +superfluous and useless, might have given great assistance to the ancient +family from which he descended, at that time, by the imprudence of his +relation, reduced to difficulties and distress. + + * * * * * + +CONGREVE has merit of the highest kind; he is an original writer, who +borrowed neither the models of his plot nor the manner of his dialogue. +Of his plays I cannot speak distinctly, for since I inspected them many +years have passed, but what remains upon my memory is, that his +characters are commonly fictitious and artificial, with very little of +nature, and not much of life. He formed a peculiar idea of comic +excellence, which he supposed to consist in gay remarks and unexpected +answers; but that which he endeavoured, he seldom failed of performing. +His scenes exhibit not much of humour, imagery, or passion: his +personages are a kind of intellectual gladiators; every sentence is to +ward or strike; the contest of smartness is never intermitted; his wit is +a meteor playing to and fro with alternate coruscations. His comedies +have, therefore, in some degree, the operation of tragedies, they +surprise rather than divert, and raise admiration oftener than merriment. +But they are the works of a mind replete with images, and quick in +combination. + +Of his miscellaneous poetry I cannot say anything very favourable. The +powers of Congreve seem to desert him when he leaves the stage, as Antæus +was no longer strong than when he could touch the ground. It cannot be +observed without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and fertile in dramatic +compositions should on any other occasion discover nothing but impotence +and poverty. He has in these little pieces neither elevation of fancy, +selection of language, nor skill in versification: yet, if I were +required to select from the whole mass of English poetry the most +poetical paragraph, I know not what I could prefer to an exclamation in +the “Mourning Bride”:— + + ALMERIA. + + It was a fancied noise; for all is hushed. + + LEONORA. + + It bore the accent of a human voice. + + ALMERIA. + + It was thy fear, or else some transient wind + Whistling through hollows of this vaulted isle: + We’ll listen— + + LEONORA. + + Hark! + + ALMERIA. + + No, all is hushed and still as death.—’Tis dreadful! + How reverend is the face of this tall pile, + Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, + To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof, + By its own weight made steadfast and immovable, + Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe + And terror on my aching sight; the tombs + And monumental caves of death look cold, + And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. + Give use thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; + Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear + Thy voice—my own affrights me with its echoes. + +He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet; he +feels what he remembers to have felt before, but he feels it with great +increase of sensibility; he recognises a familiar image, but meets it +again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty and enlarged with +majesty. Yet could the author, who appears here to have enjoyed the +confidence of Nature, lament the death of Queen Mary in lines like +these:— + + “The rocks are cleft, and new-descending rills + Furrow the brows of all the impending hills. + The water-gods to floods their rivulets turn, + And each, with streaming eyes, supplies his wanting urn. + The fauns forsake the woods, the nymphs the grove, + And round the plain in sad distractions rove: + In prickly brakes their tender limbs they tear, + And leave on thorns their locks of golden hair. + With their sharp nails, themselves the satyrs wound, + And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with grief the ground. + Lo Pan himself, beneath a blasted oak, + Dejected lies, his pipe in pieces broke + See Pales weeping too in wild despair, + And to the piercing winds her bosses bare. + And see yon fading myrtle, where appears + The Queen of Love, all bathed in flowing tears; + See how she wrings her hands, and beats her breast, + And tears her useless girdle from her waist: + Hear the sad murmurs of her sighing doves! + For grief they sigh, forgetful of their loves.” + +And many years after he gave no proof that time had improved his wisdom +or his wit, for, on the death of the Marquis of Blandford, this was his +song:— + + “And now the winds, which had so long been still, + Began the swelling air with sighs to fill; + The water-nymphs, who motionless remained + Like images of ice, while she complained, + Now loosed their streams; as when descending rains + Roll the steep torrents headlong o’er the plains. + The prone creation who so long had gazed + Charmed with her cries, and at her griefs amazed, + Began to roar and howl with horrid yell, + Dismal to hear, and terrible to tell! + Nothing but groans and sighs were heard around, + And echo multiplied each mournful sound.” + +In both these funeral poems, when he has _yelled_ out many _syllables_ of +senseless _dolour_, he dismisses his reader with senseless consolation. +From the grave of Pastora rises a light that forms a star, and where +Amaryllis wept for Amyntas from every tear sprung up a violet. But +William is his hero, and of William he will sing:— + + “The hovering winds on downy wings shall wait around, + And catch, and waft to foreign lands, the flying sound.” + +It cannot but be proper to show what they shall have to catch and carry:— + + “’Twas now, when flowery lawns the prospect made, + And flowing brooks beneath a forest shade, + A lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd, + Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepared + Their arméd heads for light, by fate of war to prove + The victor worthy of the fair one’s love; + Unthought presage of what met next my view; + For soon the shady scene withdrew. + And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers, + Behold a town arise, bulwarked with walls and lofty towers; + Two rival armies all the plain o’erspread, + Each in battalia ranged, and shining arms arrayed + With eagle eyes beholding both from far, + Namur, the price and mistress of the war.” + +The “Birth of the Muse” is a miserable fiction. One good line it has +which was borrowed from Dryden. The concluding verses are these:— + + “This said, no more remained. The ethereal host + Again impatient crowd the crystal coast. + The father now, within his spacious hands, + Encompassed all the mingled mass of seas and lands; + And, having heaved aloft the ponderous sphere, + He launched the world to float in ambient air.” + +Of his irregular poems, that to Mrs. Arabella Hunt seems to be the best; +his Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day, however, had some lines which Pope had in +his mind when he wrote his own. His imitations of Horace are feebly +paraphrastical, and the additions which he makes are of little value. He +sometimes retains what were more properly omitted, as when he talks of +_vervain_ and _gums_ to propitiate Venus. + +Of his Translations, the “Satire of Juvenal” was written very early, and +may therefore be forgiven, though it had not the massiness and vigour of +the original. In all his versions strength and sprightliness are +wanting; his “Hymn to Venus,” from Homer, is perhaps the best. His lines +are weakened with expletives, and his rhymes are frequently imperfect. +His petty poems are seldom worth the cost of criticism; sometimes the +thoughts are false and sometimes common. In his verses on Lady Gethin, +the latter part is in imitation of Dryden’s ode on Mrs. Killigrew; and +“Doris,” that has been so lavishly flattered by Steele, has indeed some +lively stanzas, but the expression might be mended, and the most striking +part of the character had been already shown in “Love for Love.” His +“Art of Pleasing” is founded on a vulgar, but perhaps impracticable +principle, and the staleness of the sense is not concealed by any novelty +of illustration or elegance of diction. This tissue of poetry, from +which he seems to have hoped a lasting name, is totally neglected, and +known only as it is appended to his plays. + +While comedy or while tragedy is regarded, his plays are likely to be +read; but, except what relates to the stage, I know not that he has ever +written a stanza that is sung, or a couplet that is quoted. The general +character of his “Miscellanies” is that they show little wit and little +virtue. Yet to him it must be confessed that we are indebted for the +connection of a national error, and for the cure of our Pindaric madness. +He first taught the English writers that Pindar’s odes were regular; and +though certainly he had not the lire requisite for the higher species of +lyric poetry, he has shown us that enthusiasm has its rules, and that in +mere confusion there is neither grace nor greatness. + + + + +BLACKMORE. + + +SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE is one of those men whose writings have attracted +much notice, but of whose life and manners very little has been +communicated, and whose lot it has been to be much oftener mentioned by +enemies than by friends. He was the son of Robert Blackmore, of Corsham +in Wiltshire, styled by Wood _Gentleman_, and supposed to have been an +attorney, having been for some time educated in a country school, he was +at thirteen sent to Westminster, and in 1668 was entered at Edmund Hall +in Oxford, where he took the degree of MA. June 8, 1676, and resided +thirteen years, a much longer time than is usual to spend at the +university, and which he seems to have passed with very little attention +to the business of the place; for, in his poems, the ancient names of +nations or places, which he often introduces, are pronounced by chance. +He afterwards travelled. At Padua he was made doctor of physic, and, +after having wandered about a year and a half on the Continent, returned +home. + +In some part of his life, it is not known when, his indigence compelled +him to teach a school, a humiliation with which, though it certainly +lasted but a little while, his enemies did not forget to reproach him, +when he became conspicuous enough to excite malevolence; and let it be +remembered for his honour, that to have been once a schoolmaster is the +only reproach which all the perspicacity of malice, animated by wit, has +ever fixed upon his private life. + +When he first engaged in the study of physic, he inquired, as he says, of +Dr. Sydenham, what authors he should read and was directed by Sydenham to +“Don Quixote”: “which” said he, “is a very good book; I read it still.” +The perverseness of mankind makes it often mischievous to men of eminence +to give way to merriment; the idle and the illiterate will long shelter +themselves under this foolish apophthegm. Whether he rested satisfied +with this direction, or sought for better, he commenced physician, and +obtained high eminence and extensive practice. He became Fellow of the +College of Physicians, April 12, 1687, being one of the thirty which, by +the new charter of King James, were added to the former fellows. His +residence was in Cheapside, and his friends were chiefly in the City. In +the early part of Blackmore’s time a citizen was a term of reproach; and +his place of abode was another topic, to which his adversaries had +recourse in the penury of scandal. + +Blackmore, therefore, was made a poet not by necessity but inclination, +and wrote not for a livelihood but for fame; or, if he may tell his own +motives, for a nobler purpose, to engage poetry in the cause of virtue. + +I believe it is peculiar to him that his first public work was an heroic +poem. He was not known as a maker of verses till he published (in 1695) +“Prince Arthur,” in ten books, written, as he relates, “by such catches +and starts, and in such occasional uncertain hours as his profession +afforded, and for the greatest part in coffee-houses, or in passing up +and down the streets.” For the latter part of this apology he was +accused of writing “to the rumbling of his chariot wheels.” He had read, +he says, “but little poetry throughout his whole life; and for fifteen +years before had not written a hundred verses except one copy of Latin +verses in praise of a friend’s book.” He thinks, and with some reason, +that from such a performance perfection cannot be expected; but he finds +another reason for the severity of his censurers, which he expresses in +language such as Cheapside easily furnished. “I am not free of the +Poet’s Company, having never kissed the governor’s hands: mine is +therefore not so much as a permission poem, but a downright interloper. +Those gentlemen, who carry on their poetical trade in a joint stock, +would certainly do what they could to sink and ruin an unlicensed +adventurer, notwithstanding I disturbed none of their factories, nor +imported any goods they have ever dealt in.” He had lived in the City +till he had learned its note. + +That “Prince Arthur” found many readers is certain; for in two years it +had three editions, a very uncommon instance of favourable reception, at +a time when literary curiosity was yet confined to particular classes of +the nation. Such success naturally raised animosity; and Dennis attacked +it by a formal criticism, more tedious and disgusting than the work which +he condemns. To this censure may be opposed the approbation of Locke, +and the admiration of Molyneux, which are found in their printed +“Letters.” Molyneux is particularly delighted with the song of Mopas, +which is therefore subjoined to this narrative. + +It is remarked by Pope, that “what raises the hero, often sinks the man.” +Of Blackmore is may be said that, as the poet sinks, the man rises; the +animadversions of Dennis, insolent and contemptuous as they were, raised +in him no implacable resentment; he and his critic were afterwards +friends; and in one of his latter works he praises Dennis “as equal to +Boileau in poetry, and superior to him in critical abilities.” He seems +to have been more delighted with praise than pained by censure, and +instead of slackening, quickened his career. Having in two years +produced ten books of “Prince Arthur,” in two years more (1697) he sent +into the world “King Arthur” in twelve. The provocation was now doubled, +and the resentment of wits and critics may be supposed to have increased +in proportion. He found, however, advantages more than equivalent to all +their outrages. He was this year made one of the physicians in ordinary +to King William, and advanced by him to the honour of knighthood, with +the present of a gold chaise and medal. The malignity of the wits +attributed his knighthood to his new poem, but King William was not very +studious of poetry; and Blackmore perhaps had other merit, for he says in +his dedication to “Alfred,” that “he had a greater part in the succession +of the house of Hanover than ever he had boasted.” + +What Blackmore could contribute to the Succession, or what he imagined +himself to have contributed, cannot now be known. That he had been of +considerable use, I doubt not but he believed, for I hold him to have +been very honest; but he might easily make a false estimate of his own +importance. Those whom their virtue restrains from deceiving others, are +often disposed by their vanity to deceive themselves. Whether he +promoted the Succession or not, he at least approved it, and adhered +invariably to his principles and party through his whole life. + +His ardour of poetry still continued; and not long after (1700) he +published a “Paraphrase on the Book of Job, and other parts of the +Scripture.” This performance Dryden, who pursued him with great +malignity, lived long enough to ridicule in a Prologue. + +The wits easily confederated against him, as Dryden, whose favour they +almost all courted, was his professed adversary. He had, besides, given +them reason for resentment, as, in his preface to “Prince Arthur,” he had +said of the dramatic writers almost all that was alleged afterwards by +Collier; but Blackmore’s censure was cold and general, Collier’s was +personal and ardent; Blackmore taught his reader to dislike what Collier +incited him to abhor. + +In his preface to “King Arthur” he endeavoured to gain at least one +friend, and propitiated Congreve by higher praise of his “Mourning Bride” +than it has obtained from any other critic. + +The same year he published a “Satire on Wit,” a proclamation of defiance +which united the poets almost all against him, and which brought upon him +lampoons and ridicule from every side. This he doubtless foresaw, and +evidently despised; nor should his dignity of mind be without its praise, +had he not paid the homage to greatness which he denied to genius, and +degraded himself by conferring that authority over the national taste, +which he takes from the poets, upon men of high rank and wide influence, +but of less wit and not greater virtue. + +Here is again discovered the inhabitant of Cheapside, whose head cannot +keep his poetry unmingled with trade. To hinder that intellectual +bankruptcy which he affects to fear he will erect a “Bank for Wit.” In +this poem he justly censured Dryden’s impurities, but praised his powers, +though in a subsequent edition he retained the satire, and omitted the +praise. What was his reason, I know not; Dryden was then no longer in +his way. His head still teemed with heroic poetry; and (1705) he +published “Eliza,” in ten books. I am afraid that the world was now +weary of contending about Blackmore’s heroes, for I do not remember that +by any author, serious or comical, I have found “Eliza” either praised or +blamed. + +She “dropped,” as it seems, “dead-born from the press.” It is never +mentioned, and was never seen by me till I borrowed it for the present +occasion. Jacob says “it is corrected and revised from another +impression,” but the labour of revision was thrown away. + +From this time he turned some of his thoughts to the celebration of +living characters, and wrote a poem on the Kit-Cat Club, and “Advice to +the Poets how to celebrate the Duke of Marlborough” but on occasion of +another year of success, thinking himself qualified to give more +instruction, he again wrote a poem of “Advice to a Weaver of Tapestry.” +Steele was then publishing the _Tatler_, and, looking round him for +something at which he might laugh, unluckily alighted on Sir Richard’s +work, and treated it with such contempt that, as Fenton observes, he put +an end to that species of writers that gave advice to painters. + +Not long after (1712) he published “Creation,” a philosophical poem, +which has been, by my recommendation, inserted in the late collection. +Whoever judges of this by any other of Blackmore’s performances will do +it injury. The praise given it by Addison (_Spectator_, 339) is too well +known to be transcribed; but some notice is due to the testimony of +Dennis, who calls it a “philosophical poem, which has equalled that of +‘Lucretius’ in the beauty of its versification, and infinitely surpassed +it in the solidity and strength of its reasoning.” + +Why an author surpasses himself it is natural to inquire. I have heard +from Mr. Draper, an eminent bookseller, an account received by him from +Ambrose Philips, “That Blackmore, as he proceeded in this poem, laid his +manuscript from time to time before a club of wits with whom he +associated, and that every man contributed, as he could, either +improvement or correction; so that,” said Philips, “there are perhaps +nowhere in the book thirty lines together that now stand as they were +originally written.” + +The relation of Philips, I suppose, was true; but when all reasonable, +all credible allowance is made for this friendly revision, the author +will still retain an ample dividend of praise; for to him must always be +assigned the plan of the work, the distribution of its parts, the choice +of topics, the train of argument, and, what is yet more, the general +predominance of philosophical judgment and poetical spirit. Correction +seldom effects more than the suppression of faults: a happy line, or a +single elegance, may perhaps be added; but of a large work, the general +character must always remain. The original constitution can be very +little helped by local remedies; inherent and radical dulness will never +be much invigorated by intrinsic animation. This poem, if he had written +nothing else, would have transmitted him to posterity among the first +favourites of the English muse; but to make verses was his transcendent +pleasure, and, as he was not deterred by censure, he was not satiated +with praise. He deviated, however, sometimes into other tracks of +literature, and condescended to entertain his readers with plain prose. +When the _Spectator_ stopped, he considered the polite world as destitute +of entertainment, and in concert with Mr. Hughes, who wrote every third +paper, published three times a week the “Lay Monastery,” founded on the +supposition that some literary men, whose characters are described, had +retired to a house in the country to enjoy philosophical leisure, and +resolved to instruct the public by communicating their disquisitions and +amusements. Whether any real persons were concealed under fictitious +names is not known. The hero of the club is one Mr. Johnson, such a +constellation of excellence, that his character shall not be suppressed, +though there is no great genius in the design nor skill in the +delineation. + +“The first I shall name is Mr. Johnson, a gentleman that owes to nature +excellent faculties and an elevated genius, and to industry and +application many acquired accomplishments. His taste is distinguishing, +just, and delicate; his judgment clear, and his reason strong, +accompanied with an imagination full of spirit, of great compass, and +stored with refined ideas. He is a critic of the first rank and, what is +his peculiar ornament, he is delivered from the ostentation, malevolence, +and supercilious temper, that so often blemish men of that character. +His remarks result from the nature and reason of things, and are formed +by a judgment free and unbiassed by the authority of those who have +lazily followed each other in the same beaten track of thinking, and are +arrived only at the reputation of acute grammarians and commentators; men +who have been copying one another many hundred years without any +improvement, or, if they have ventured farther, have only applied in a +mechanical manner the rules of ancient critics to modern writings, and +with great labour discovered nothing but their own want of judgment and +capacity. As Mr. Johnson penetrates to the bottom of his subject, by +which means his observations are solid and natural, as well as delicate, +so his design is always to bring to light something useful and +ornamental; whence his character is the reverse to theirs, who have +eminent abilities in insignificant knowledge, and a great felicity in +finding out trifles. He is no less industrious to search out the merit +of an author, than sagacious in discerning his errors and defects, and +takes more pleasure in commending the beauties than exposing the +blemishes of a laudable writing. Like Horace, in a long work he can bear +some deformities, and justly lay them on the imperfection of human +nature, which is incapable of faultless productions. When an excellent +drama appears in public, and by its intrinsic worth attracts a general +applause, he is not stung with envy and spleen; nor does he express a +savage nature in fastening upon the celebrated author, dwelling upon his +imaginary defects, and passing over his conspicuous excellences. He +treats all writers upon the same impartial foot, and is not, like the +little critics, taken up entirely in finding out only the beauties of the +ancient and nothing but the errors of the modern writers. Never did any +one express more kindness and good-nature to young and unfinished +authors, he promotes their interests, protects their reputation, +extenuates their faults, and sets off their virtues, and by his candour +guards them from the severity of his judgment. He is not like those dry +critics who are morose because they cannot write themselves, but is +himself master of a good vein in poetry; and though he does not often +employ it, yet he has sometimes entertained his friends with his +unpublished performances.” + +The rest of the lay monks seem to be but feeble mortals an comparison +with the gigantic Johnson, who yet, with all his abilities and the help +of the fraternity, could drive the publication but to forty papers, which +were afterwards collected into a volume, and called in the title “A +Sequel to the _Spectators_.” + +Some years afterwards (1716 and 1717) he published two volumes of essays +in prose, which can be commended only as they are written for the highest +and noblest purpose—the promotion of religion. Blackmore’s prose is not +the prose of a poet, for it is languid, sluggish, and lifeless; his +diction is neither daring nor exact, his flow neither rapid nor easy, and +his periods neither smooth nest strong. His account of _wit_ will show +with how little clearness he is content to think, and how little his +thoughts are recommended by his language. + +“As to its efficient cause, _wit_ owes its production to an extraordinary +and peculiar temperament in the constitution of the possessor of it, in +which is found a concurrence of regular and exalted ferments, and an +affluence of animal spirits, refined and rectified to a great degree of +purity; whence, being endowed with vivacity, brightness, and celerity, as +well in their reflections as direct motions, they become proper +instruments for the sprightly operations of the mind, by which means the +imagination can with great facility range the wide field of Nature, +contemplate an infinite variety of objects, and, by observing the +similitude and disagreement of their several qualities, single out and +abstract, and then suit and unite, those ideas which will best serve its +purpose. Hence beautiful allusions, surprising metaphors, and admirable +sentiments, are always ready at hand; and while the fancy is full of +images, collected from innumerable objects, and their different +qualities, relations, and habitudes, it can at pleasure dress a common +notion in a strange but becoming garb, by which, as before observed, the +same thought will appear a new one, to the great delight and wonder of +the hearer. What we call _genius_ results from this particular happy +complexion in the first formation of the person that enjoys it, and is +Nature’s gift, but diversified by various specific characters and +limitations, as its active fire is blended and allayed by different +proportions of phlegm, or reduced and regulated by the contrast of +opposite ferments. Therefore, as there happens in the composition of +facetious genius a greater or less, though still an inferior, degree of +judgment and prudence, one man of wit will be varied and distinguished +from another.” + +In these essays he took little care to propitiate the wits, for he scorns +to avert their malice at the expense of virtue or of truth. + +“Several, in their books, have many sarcastical and spiteful strokes at +religion in general; while others make themselves pleasant with the +principles of the Christian. Of the last kind this age has seen a most +audacious example in the book entitled ‘A Tale of a Tub.’ Had this +writing been published in a pagan or popish nation, who are justly +impatient of all indignity offered to the established religion of their +country, no doubt but the author would have received the punishment he +deserved. But the fate of this impious buffoon is very different, for in +a Protestant kingdom, zealous of their civil and religious immunities, he +has not only escaped affronts and the effects of public resentment, but +has been caressed and patronised by persons of great figure, and of all +denominations. Violent party-men, who differed in all things besides, +agreed in their turn to show particular respect and friendship to this +insolent derider of the worship of his country, till at last the reputed +writer is not only gone off with impunity, but triumphs in his dignity +and preferment. I do not know that any inquiry or search was ever made +after this writing, or that any reward was ever offered for the discovery +of the author, or that the infamous book was ever condemned to be burnt +in public. Whether this proceeds from the excessive esteem and love that +men in power, during the late reign, had for wit, or their defect of zeal +and concern for the Christian religion will be determined best by those +who are best acquainted with their character.” + +In another place he speaks with becoming abhorrence of a _godless author_ +who has burlesqued a Psalm. This author was supposed to be Pope, who +published a reward for any one that would produce the coiner of the +accusation, but never denied it, and was afterwards the perpetual and +incessant enemy of Blackmore. + +One of his essays is upon the spleen, which is treated by him so much to +his own satisfaction, that he has published the same thoughts in the same +words; first, in the “Lay Monastery,” then in the “Essay,” and then in +the “Preface to a Medical Treatise on the Spleen.” One passage, which I +have found already twice, I will here exhibit, because I think it better +imagined and better expressed than could be expected from the common +tenor of his prose:— + + “—As the several combinations of splenetic madness and folly produce + an infinite variety of irregular under-standing, so the amicable + accommodation and alliance between several virtues and vices produce + an equal diversity in the dispositions and manners of mankind; whence + it comes to pass, that as many monstrous and absurd productions are + found in the moral as in the intellectual world. How surprising is + it to observe among the least culpable men, some whose minds are + attracted by heaven and earth with a seeming equal force; some who + are proud of humility; others who are censorious and uncharitable, + yet self-denying and devout; some who join contempt of the world with + sordid avarice; and others, who preserve a great degree of piety with + ill-nature and ungoverned passions. Nor are instances of this + inconsistent mixture less frequent among bad men, where we often with + admiration see persons at once generous and unjust, impious lovers of + their country, and flagitious heroes, good-natured sharpers, immoral + men of honour, and libertines who will sooner die than change their + religion; and though it is true that repugnant coalitions of so high + a degree are found but in a part of mankind, yet none of the whole + mass, either good or bad, are entirely exempted from some absurd + mixture.” + +He about this time (August 22, 1716) became one of the elects of the +College of Physicians, and was soon after (October 1) chosen Censor. He +seems to have arrived late, whatever was the reason, at his medical +honours. + +Having succeeded so well in his book on Creation, by which he established +the great principle of all religion, he thought his undertaking +imperfect, unless he likewise enforced the truth of Revelation, and for +that purpose added another poem on “Redemption.” He had likewise written +before his “Creation” three books on the Nature of Man. + +The lovers of musical devotion have always wished for a more happy +metrical version than they have yet obtained of the Book of Psalms. This +wish the piety of Blackmore led him to gratify, and he produced (1721) “A +New Version of the Psalms of David fitted to the Tunes used in Churches,” +which being recommended by the archbishops and many bishops, obtained a +license for its admission into public worship; but no admission has it +yet obtained, nor has it any right to come where Brady and Tate have got +possession. Blackmore’s name must be added to those of many others who, +by the same attempt, have obtained only the praise of meaning well. + +He was not yet deterred from heroic poetry. There was another monarch of +this island (for he did not fetch his heroes from foreign countries) whom +he considered as worthy the epic muse, and he dignified “Alfred” (1723) +with twelve books. But the opinion of the nation was now settled; a hero +introduced by Blackmore was not likely to find either respect or +kindness; “Alfred” took his place by “Eliza” in silence and darkness. +Benevolence was ashamed to favour, and malice was weary of insulting. Of +his four epic poems, the first had such reputation and popularity as +enraged the critics; the second was at least known enough to be +ridiculed; the two last had neither friends nor enemies. + +Contempt is a kind of gangrene, which, if it seizes one part of a +character, corrupts all the rest by degrees. Blackmore being despised as +a poet, was in time neglected as a physician; his practice, which was +once invidiously great, forsook him in the latter part of his life, but +being by nature, or by principle, averse from idleness, he employed his +unwelcome leisure in writing books on physic, and teaching others to cure +those whom he could himself cure no longer. I know not whether I can +enumerate all the treatises by which he has endeavoured to diffuse the +art of healing, for there is scarcely any distemper of dreadful name +which he has not taught the reader how to oppose. He has written on the +small-pox, with a vehement invective against inoculation; on consumption, +the spleen, the gout, the rheumatism, the king’s evil, the dropsy, the +jaundice, the stone, the diabetes, and the plague. Of those books, if I +had read them, it could nor be expected that I should be able to give a +critical account. I have been told that there is something in them of +vexation and discontent, discovered by a perpetual attempt to degrade +physic from its sublimity, and to represent it as attainable without much +previous or concomitant learning. By the transient glances which I have +thrown upon them I have observed an affected contempt of the ancients, +and a supercilious derision of transmitted knowledge. Of this indecent +arrogance the following quotation from his preface to the “Treatise on +the Small-pox” will afford a specimen, in which, when the reader finds +what I fear is true, that, when he was censuring Hippocrates, he did not +know the difference between _aphorism_ and _apophthegm_, he will not pay +much regard to his determinations concerning ancient learning. + + “As for this book of aphorisms, it is like my Lord Bacon’s of the + same title, a book of jests, or a grave collection of trite and + trifling observations; of which, though many are true and certain, + yet they signify nothing, and may afford diversion, but no + instruction, most of them being much inferior to the sayings of the + wise men of Greece, which yet are so low and mean, that we are + entertained every day with more valuable sentiments at the table + conversation of ingenious and learned men.” + +I am unwilling, however, to leave him in total disgrace, and will +therefore quote from another preface a passage less reprehensible. + + “Some gentlemen have been disingenuous and unjust to me, by wresting + and forcing my meaning, in the preface to another book, as if I + condemned and exposed all learning, though they knew I declared that + I greatly honoured and esteemed all men of superior literature and + erudition, and that I only undervalued false or superficial learning, + that signifies nothing for the service of mankind; and that as to + physic, I expressly affirmed that learning must be joined with native + genius to make a physician of the first rank; but if those talents + are separated, I asserted, and do still insist, that a man of native + sagacity and diligence will prove a more able and useful practiser + than a heavy notional scholar, encumbered with a heap of confused + ideas.” + +He was not only a poet and a physician, but produced likewise a work of a +different kind, “A True and Impartial History of the Conspiracy against +King William of Glorious Memory in the Year 1695.” This I have never +seen, but suppose it is at least compiled with integrity. He engaged +likewise in theological controversy, and wrote two books against the +Arians: “Just Prejudices against the Arian Hypothesis,” and “Modern +Arians Unmasked.” Another of his works is “Natural Theology; or, Moral +Duties considered apart from Positive; with some Observations on the +Desirableness and Necessity of a Supernatural Revelation.” This was the +last book that he published. He left behind him “The Accomplished +Preacher; or, an Essay upon Divine Eloquence,” which was printed after +his death by Mr. White of Nayland, in Essex, the minister who attended +his death-bed, and testified the fervent piety of his last hours. He +died on the 8th of October, 1729. + + * * * * * + +Blackmore, by the unremitted enmity of the wits, whom he provoked more by +his virtue than his dulness, has been exposed to worse treatment than he +deserved. His name was so long used to point every epigram upon dull +writers, that it became at last a byword of contempt but it deserves +observation, that malignity takes hold only of his writings, and that his +life passed without reproach, even when his boldness of reprehension +naturally turned upon him many eyes desirous to espy faults which many +tongues would have made haste to publish. But those who could not blame, +could, at least, forbear to praise, and therefore of his private life and +domestic character there are no memorials. + +As an author, he may justly claim the honours of magnanimity. The +incessant attacks of his enemies, whether serious or merry, are never +discovered to have disturbed his quiet, or to have lessened his +confidence in himself: they neither awed him to silence nor to caution: +they neither provoked him to petulance, nor depressed him to complaint. +While the distributors of literary fame were endeavouring to depreciate +and degrade him, he either despised or defied them, wrote on as he had +written before, and never turned aside to quiet them by civility, or +repress them by confutation. He depended with great security on his own +powers, and perhaps was for that reason less diligent in perusing books. +His literature was, I think, but small. What he knew of antiquity, I +suspect him to have gathered from modern compilers; but, though he could +not boast of much critical knowledge, his mind was stored with general +principles, and he left minute researches to those whom he considered as +little minds. With this disposition he wrote most of his poems. Having +formed a magnificent design, he was careless of particular and +subordinate elegances; he studied no niceties of versification; he waited +for no felicities of fancy, but caught his first thoughts in the first +words in which they were presented; nor does it appear that he saw beyond +his own performances, or had ever elevated his was to that ideal +perfection which every genius born to excel is condemned always to +pursue, and never overtake. In the first suggestions of his imagination +he acquiesced; he thought them good, and did not seek for better. His +works may be read a long time without the occurrence of a single line +that stands prominent from the rest. The poem on “Creation” has, +however, the appearance of more circumspection; it wants neither harmony +of numbers, accuracy of thought, nor elegance of diction. It has either +been written with great care, or, what cannot be imagined of so long a +work, with such felicity as made care less necessary. Its two +constituent parts are ratiocination and description. To reason in verse +is allowed to be difficult; but Blackmore not only reasons in verse, but +very often reasons poetically; and finds the art of uniting ornament with +strength and ease with closeness. This is a skill which Pope might have +condescended to learn from him, when he needed it so much in his “Moral +Essays.” + +In his descriptions both of life and nature, the poet and the philosopher +happily co-operate; truth is recommended by elegance, and elegance +sustained by truth. In the structure and order of the poem, not only the +greater parts are properly consecutive, but the didactic and illustrative +paragraphs are so happily mingled, that labour is relieved by pleasure, +and the attention is led on through a long succession of varied +excellence to the original position, the fundamental principle of wisdom +and of virtue. + +As the heroic poems of Blackmore are now little read, it is thought +proper to insert, as a specimen from “Prince Arthur,” the song of Mopas +mentioned by Molyneux:— + + “But that which Arthur with most pleasure heard + Were noble strains, by Mopas sung the bard, + Who to his harp in lofty verse began, + And through the secret maze of Nature ran. + He the Great Spirit sung, that all things filled, + That the tumultuous waves of Chaos stilled; + Whose nod disposed the jarring seeds to peace, + And made the wars of hostile Atoms cease. + All Beings, we in fruitful Nature find, + Proceeded from the Great Eternal mind: + Streams of his unexhausted spring of power, + And, cherished with his influence, endure. + He spread the pure cerulean fields on high, + And arched the chambers of the vaulted sky, + Which he, to suit their glory with their height, + Adorned with globes, that reel, as drunk with light. + His hand directed all the tuneful spheres, + He turned their orbs, and polished all the stars. + He filled the Sun’s vast lamp with golden light: + And bid the silver Moon adorn the night. + He spread the airy Ocean without shores, + Where birds are wafted with their feathered oars. + Then sung the bard how the light vapours rise + From the warm earth, and cloud the smiling skies; + He sung how some, chilled in their airy flight, + Fall scattered down in pearly dew by night; + How some, raised higher, sit in secret steams + On the reflected points of bounding beams, + Till, chilled with cold, they shade th’ ethereal plain, + Then on the thirsty earth descend in rain; + How some, whose parts a slight contexture show, + Sink hovering through the air in fleecy snow; + How part is spun in silken threads, and clings + Entangled in the grass is gluey strings; + How others stamp to stones, with rushing sound + Fall from their crystal quarries to the ground; + How some are laid in trains, that kindled fly, + In harmless fires by night, about the sky; + How some in winds blow with impetuous force, + And carry ruin where they bend their course, + While some conspire to form a gentle breeze, + To fan the air, and play among the trees; + How some, enraged, grow turbulent and loud, + Pent in the bowels of a frowning cloud, + That cracks, as if the axis of the world + Was broke, and Heaven’s bright towers were downwards hurled. + He sung how earth’s wide ball, at Jove’s command, + Did in the midst on airy columns stand; + And how the soul of plants, in prison held, + And bound with sluggish fetters, lies concealed, + Till with the spring’s warm beams, almost released + From the dull weight, with which it lay opprest, + Its vigour spreads, and makes the teeming earth + Heave up, and labour with the sprouting birth: + The active spirit freedom seeks in vain, + It only works and twists a stronger chain; + Urging its prison’s sides to break a way, + It makes that wider, where ’tis forced to stay: + Till, having formed its living house, it rears + Its head, and in a tender plant appears. + Hence springs the oak, the beauty of the grove, + Whose stately trunk fierce storms can scarcely move. + Hence grows the cedar, hence the swelling vine + Does round the elm its purple clusters twine. + Hence painted flowers the smiling gardens bless, + Both with their fragrant scent and gaudy dress. + Hence the white lily in full beauty grows, + Hence the blue violet and blushing rose. + He sung how sunbeams brood upon the earth, + And in the glebe hatch such a numerous birth; + Which way the genial warmth in Summer storms + Turns putrid vapours to a bed of worms; + How rain, transformed by this prolific power, + Falls from the clouds an animated shower. + He sung the embryo’s growth within the womb, + And how the parts their various shapes assume. + With what rare art the wondrous structure’s wrought, + From one crude mass to such perfection brought; + That no part useless, none misplaced we see, + None are forgot, and more would monstrous be.” + + + + +POPE. + + +ALEXANDER POPE was born in London, May 22, 1688, of parents whose rank or +station was never ascertained: we are informed that they were of “gentle +blood;” that his father was of a family of which the Earl of Downe was +the head, and that his mother was the daughter of William Turner, +Esquire, of York, who had likewise three sons, one of whom had the honour +of being killed, and the other of dying, in the service of Charles the +First; the third was made a general officer in Spain, from whom the +sister inherited what sequestrations and forfeitures had left in the +family. This, and this only, is told by Pope, who is more willing, as I +have heard observed, to show what his father was not, than what he was. +It is allowed that he grew rich by trade; but whether in a shop or on the +Exchange was never discovered till Mr. Tyers told, on the authority of +Mrs. Racket, that he was a linendraper in the Strand. Both parents were +Papists. + +Pope was from his birth of a constitution tender and delicate, but is +said to have shown remarkable gentleness and sweetness of disposition. +The weakness of his body continued through his life, but the mildness of +his mind perhaps ended with his childhood. His voice when he was young +was so pleasing, that he was called in fondness “The Little Nightingale.” + +Being not sent early to school, he was taught to read by an aunt; and, +when he was seven or eight years old, became a lover of books. He first +learned to write by imitating printed books, a species of penmanship in +which he retained great excellence through his whole life, though his +ordinary hand was not elegant. When he was about eight he was placed in +Hampshire, under Taverner, a Romish priest, who, by a method very rarely +practised, taught him the Greek and Latin rudiments together. He was now +first regularly initiated in poetry by the perusal of “Ogilby’s Homer” +and “Sandys’ Ovid.” Ogilby’s assistance he never repaid with any praise; +but of Sandys he declared, in his notes to the “Iliad,” that English +poetry owed much of its beauty to his translations. Sandys very rarely +attempted original composition. + +From the care of Taverner, under whom his proficiency was considerable, +he was removed to a school at Twyford, near Winchester, and again to +another school about Hyde Park Corner, from which he used sometimes to +stroll to the play-hones, and was so delighted with theatrical +exhibitions, that he formed a kind of play from “Ogilby’s Iliad,” with +some verses of his own intermixed, which he persuaded his schoolfellows +to act, with the addition of his master’s gardener, who personated Ajax. + +At the two last schools he used to represent himself as having lost part +of what Taverner had taught him, and on his master at Twyford he had +already exercised his poetry in a lampoon. Yet under those masters he +translated more than a fourth part of the “Metamorphoses.” If he kept +the same proportion in his other exercises, it cannot be thought that his +loss was great. He tells of himself, in his poems, that “he lisped in +numbers;” and used to say that he could not remember the time when he +began to make verses. In the style of fiction, it might have been said +of him, as of Pindar, that when he lay in his cradle “the bees swarmed +about his mouth.” + +About the time of the Revolution his father, who was undoubtedly +disappointed by the sudden blast of Popish prosperity, quitted his trade, +and retired to Binfield, in Windsor Forest, with about twenty thousand +pounds, for which, being conscientiously determined not to entrust it to +the Government, he found no better use than that of locking it up in a +chest, and taking from it what his expenses required; and his life was +long enough to consume a great part of it before his son came to the +inheritance. + +To Binfield Pope was called by his father when he was about twelve years +old, and there he had for a few months the assistance of one Deane, +another priest, of whom he learned only to construe a little of “Tully’s +Offices.” How Mr. Deane could spend with a boy who had translated so +much of “Ovid” some months over a small part of “Tully’s Offices,” it is +now vain to inquire. Of a youth so successfully employed, and so +conspicuously improved, a minute account must be naturally desired; but +curiosity must be contented with confused, imperfect, and sometimes +improbable intelligence. Pope, finding little advantage from external +help, resolved thenceforward to direct himself, and at twelve formed a +plan of study, which he completed with little other incitement than the +desire of excellence. His primary and principal purpose was to be a +poet, with which his father accidentally concurred by proposing subjects +and obliging him to correct his performances by many revisals, after +which the old gentleman, when he was satisfied, would say, “These are +good rhymes.” In his perusal of the English poets he soon distinguished +the versification of Dryden, which he considered as the model to be +studied, and was impressed with such veneration for his instructor, that +he persuaded some friends to take him to the coffee-house which Dryden +frequented, and pleased himself with having seen him. + +Dryden died May 1, 1701, some days before Pope was twelve; so early must +he therefore have felt the power of harmony, and the zeal of genius. Who +does not wish that Dryden could have known the value of the homage that +was paid him, and foreseen the greatness of his young admirer? + +The earliest of Pope’s productions is his “Ode on Solitude,” written +before he was twelve, in which there is nothing more than other forward +boys have attained, and which is not equal to Cowley’s performance at the +same age. His time was now wholly spent in reading and writing. As he +read the classics he amused himself with translating them, and at +fourteen made a version of the first book of the “Thebais,” which, with +some revision, he afterwards published. He must have been at this time, +if he had no help, a considerable proficient in the Latin tongue. + +By Dryden’s fables, which had then been not long published, and were much +in the hands of poetical readers, he was tempted to try his own skill in +giving Chaucer a more fashionable appearance, and put “January and May” +and the “Prologue of the Wife of Bath” into modern English. He +translated likewise the Epistle of “Sappho to Phaon” from Ovid, to +complete the version, which was before imperfect, and wrote some other +small pieces, which he afterwards printed. He sometimes imitated the +English poets, and professed to have written at fourteen his poem upon +“Silence,” after Rochester’s “Nothing.” He had now formed his +versification, and the smoothness of his numbers surpassed his original; +but this is a small part of his praise; he discovers such acquaintance +both with human life and public affairs as is not easily conceived to +have been attainable by a boy of fourteen in Windsor Forest. + +Next year he was desirous of opening to himself new sources of knowledge, +by making himself acquainted with modern languages, and removed for a +time to London, that he might study French and Italian, which, as he +desired nothing more than to read them, were by diligent application soon +despatched. Of Italian learning he does not appear to have ever made +much use in his subsequent studies. He then returned to Binfield, and +delighted himself with his own poetry. He tried all styles, and many +subjects. He wrote a comedy, a tragedy, an epic poem, with panegyrics on +all the princes of Europe; and, as he confesses, “thought himself the +greatest genius that ever was.” Self-confidence is the first requisite +to great undertakings. He, indeed, who forms his opinion of himself in +solitude, without knowing the powers of other men, is very liable to +error; but it was the felicity of Pope to rate himself at his real value. +Most of his puerile productions were, by his maturer judgment, afterwards +destroyed. “Alcander,” the epic poem, was burnt by the persuasion of +Atterbury. The tragedy was founded on the legend of St. Genevieve. Of +the comedy there is no account. Concerning his studies, it is related +that he translated “Tully on Old Age,” and that, besides his books of +poetry and criticisms, he read “Temple’s Essays” and “Locke on Human +Understanding.” His reading, though his favourite authors are not known, +appears to have been sufficiently extensive and multifarious, for his +early pieces show with sufficient evidence his knowledge of books. He +that is pleased with himself easily imagines that he shall please others. +Sir William Trumbull, who had been Ambassador at Constantinople, and +Secretary of State, when he retired from business, fixed his residence in +the neighbourhood of Binfield. Pope, not yet sixteen, was introduced to +the statesman of sixty, and so distinguished himself that their +interviews ended in friendship and correspondence. Pope was, through his +whole life, ambitious of splendid acquaintance; and he seems to have +wanted neither diligence nor success in attracting the notice of the +great, for, from his first entrance into the world, and his entrance was +very early, he was admitted to familiarity with those whose rank or +station made them most conspicuous. + +From the age of sixteen the life of Pope, as an author, may be properly +computed. He now wrote his pastorals, which were shown to the poets and +critics of that time. As they well deserved, they were read with +admiration, and many praises were bestowed upon them and upon the +preface, which is both elegant and learned in a high degree; they were, +however, not published till five years afterwards. + +Cowley, Milton, and Pope are distinguished among the English poets by the +early exertion of their powers, but the works of Cowley alone were +published in his childhood, and, therefore, of him only can it be certain +that his puerile performances received no improvement from his maturer +studies. + +At this time began his acquaintance with Wycherley, a man who seems to +have had among his contemporaries his full share of reputation, to have +been esteemed without virtue, and caressed without good humour. Pope was +proud of his notice. Wycherley wrote verses in his praise, which he was +charged by Dennis with writing to himself, and they agreed for a while to +flatter one another. It is pleasant to remark how soon Pope learned the +cant of an author, and began to treat critics with contempt, though he +had yet suffered nothing from them. But the fondness of Wycherley was +too violent to last. His esteem of Pope was such that he submitted some +poems to his revision, and when Pope, perhaps proud of such confidence, +was sufficiently bold in his criticisms, and liberal in his alterations, +the old scribbler was angry to see his pages defaced, and felt more pain +from the detection than content from the amendment of his faults. They +parted, but Pope always considered him with kindness, and visited him a +little time before he died. Another of his early correspondents was Mr. +Cromwell, of whom I have learned nothing particular, but that he used to +ride a-hunting in a tie-wig. He was fond, and perhaps vain, of amusing +himself with poetry and criticism, and sometimes sent his performances to +Pope, who did not forbear such remarks as were now and then unwelcome. +Pope, in his turn, put the juvenile version of “Statius” into his hands +for correction. Their correspondence afforded the public its first +knowledge of Pope’s epistolary powers, for his letters were given by +Cromwell to one Mrs. Thomas, and she many years afterwards sold them to +Curll, who inserted them in a volume of his “Miscellanies.” + +Walsh, a name yet preserved among the minor poets, was one of his first +encouragers. His regard was gained by the pastorals, and from him Pope +received the counsel from which he seems to have regulated his studies. +Walsh advised him to correctness, which, as he told him, the English +poets had hitherto neglected, and which, therefore, was left to him as a +basis of fame; and, being delighted with rural poems, recommended to him +to write a pastoral comedy, like those which are read so eagerly in +Italy, a design which Pope probably did not approve, as he did not follow +it. + +Pope had now declared himself a poet, and, thinking himself entitled to +poetical conversation, began at seventeen to frequent Will’s, a +coffee-house on the north side of Russell Street, in Covent Garden, where +the wits of that time used to assemble, and where Dryden had, when he +lived, been accustomed to preside. During this period of his life he was +indefatigably diligent and insatiably curious, wanting health for violent +and money for expensive pleasures, and having excited in himself very +strong desires of intellectual eminence, he spent much of his time over +his books; but he read only to store his mind with facts and images, +seizing all that his authors presented with undistinguishing voracity, +and with an appetite for knowledge too eager to be nice. In a mind like +his, however, all the faculties were at once involuntarily improving. +Judgment is forced upon us by experience. He that reads many books must +compare one opinion or one style with another; and, when he compares, +must necessarily distinguish, reject, and prefer. But the account given +by himself of his studies was, that from fourteen to twenty he read only +for amusement, from twenty to twenty-seven for improvement and +instruction; that in the first part of his time he desired only to know, +and in the second he endeavoured to judge. + +The Pastorals, which had been for some time handed about among poets and +critics, were at last printed (1709) in Tonson’s “Miscellany,” in a +volume which began with the Pastorals of Philips, and ended with those of +Pope. The same year was written the “Essay on Criticism,” a work which +displays such extent of comprehension, such nicety of distinction, such +acquaintance with mankind, and such knowledge both of ancient and modern +learning, as are not often attained by the maturest age and longest +experience. It was published about two years afterwards, and, being +praised by Addison in the _Spectator_, with sufficient liberality, met +with so much favour as enraged Dennis, “who,” he says, “found himself +attacked, without any manner of provocation on his side, and attacked in +his person instead of his writings, by one who was wholly a stranger to +him, at a time when all the world knew he was persecuted by fortune; and +not only saw that this was attempted in a clandestine manner, with the +utmost falsehood and calumny, but found that all this was done by a +little, affected hypocrite, who had nothing in his mouth at the same time +but truth, candour, friendship, good-nature, humanity, and magnanimity.” +How the attack was clandestine is not easily perceived, nor how his +person is depreciated; but he seems to have known something of Pope’s +character, in whom may be discovered an appetite to talk too frequently +of his own virtues. The pamphlet is such as rage might be expected to +dictate. He supposes himself to be asked two questions; whether the +essay will succeed, and who or what is the author. + +Its success he admits to be secured by the false opinions then prevalent; +the author he concludes to be “young and raw.” + + “First, because he discovers a sufficiency beyond his little ability, + and hath rashly undertaken a task infinitely above his force. + Secondly, while this little author struts and affects the dictatorian + air, he plainly shows that at the same time he is under the rod: and, + while he pretends to give laws to others, is a pedantic slave to + authority and opinion. Thirdly, he hath, like schoolboys, borrowed + both from living and dead. Fourthly, he knows not his own mind, and + frequently contradicts himself. Fifthly, he is almost perpetually in + the wrong.” + +All these positions he attempts to prove by quotations and remarks; but +his desire to do mischief is greater than his power. He has, however, +justly criticised some passages in these lines:— + + “There are whom Heaven has blessed with store of wit, + Yet want as much again to manage it: + For wit and judgment ever are at strife—” + +It is apparent that wit has two meanings, and that what is wanted, though +called wit, is truly judgment. So far Dennis is undoubtedly right: but +not content with argument, he will have a little mirth, and triumphs over +the first couplet in terms too elegant to be forgotten. “By the way, +what rare numbers are here! Would not one swear that this youngster had +espoused some antiquated muse, who had sued out a divorce on account of +impotence, from some superannuated sinner; and, having been p—d by her +former spouse, has got the gout in her decrepit age, which makes her +hobble so damnably?” This was the man who would reform a nation sinking +into barbarity. + +In another place Pope himself allowed that Dennis had detected one of +those blunders which are called “bulls.” The first edition had this +line:— + + “What is this wit— + Where wanted scorned; and envied where acquired?” + +“How,” says the critic, “can wit be scorned where it is not? Is not this +a figure frequently employed in Hibernian land! The person that wants +this wit may indeed be scorned, but the scorn shows the honour which the +contemner has for wit.” Of this remark Pope made the proper use, by +correcting the passage. + +I have preserved, I think, all that is reasonable in Dennis’s criticism; +it remains that justice be done to his delicacy. “For his acquaintance,” +says Dennis, “he names Mr. Walsh, who had by no means the qualification +which this author reckons absolutely necessary to a critic, it being very +certain that he was, like this essayer a very indifferent poet; he loved +to be well dressed; and I remember a little young gentleman whom Mr. +Walsh used to take into his company as a double foil to his person and +capacity. Inquire between Sunning Hill and Oakingham, for a young, +short, equal, gentleman, the very bow of the God of Love, and tell me +whether he be a proper author to make personal reflections? He may extol +the ancients, but he has reason to thank the gods that he was born a +modern; for had he been born of Grecian parents, and his father +consequently had by law had the absolute disposal of him, his life had +been no longer than that of one of his poems, the life of half a day. +Let the person of a gentleman of his parts be never so contemptible, his +inward man is ten times more ridiculous; it being impossible that his +outward form, though it be that of downright monkey, should differ so +much from human shape as his unthinking, immaterial part does from human +understanding.” Thus began the hostility between Pope and Dennis, which, +though it was suspended for a short time, never was appeased. Pope +seems, at first, to have attacked him wantonly; but though he always +professed to despise him, he discovers, by mentioning him very often, +that he felt his force or his venom. + +Of this essay, Pope declared that he did not expect the sale to be quick, +because “not one gentleman in sixty, even of liberal education, could +understand it.” The gentleman, and the education of that time, seem to +have been of a lower character than they are of this. He mentioned a +thousand copies as a numerous impression. + +Dennis was not his only censurer; the zealous Papists thought the monks +treated with too much contempt, and Erasmus too studiously praised; but +to these objections he had not much regard. + +The “Essay,” has been translated into French by Hamilton, author of the +“Comte de Grammont,” whose version was never printed, by Robotham, +secretary to the king for Hanover, and by Resnel; and commented by Dr. +Warburton, who has discovered in it such order and connection as was not +perceived by Addison, nor, as it is said, intended by the author. + +Almost every poem, consisting of precepts, is so far arbitrary and +immethodical, that many of the paragraphs may change places with no +apparent inconvenience; for of two or more positions, depending upon some +remote and general principle, there is seldom any cogent reason why one +should precede the other. But for the order in which they stand, +whatever it be, a little ingenuity may easily give a reason. “It is +possible,” says Hooker, “that, by long circumduction, from any one truth +all truth may be inferred.” Of all homogeneous truths, at least of all +truths respecting the same general end, in whatever series they may be +produced, a concatenation by intermediate ideas may be formed, such as, +when it is once shown, shall appear natural; but if this order be +reversed, another mode of connection equally spacious may be found or +made. Aristotle is praised for naming fortitude first of the cardinal +virtues, as that without which no other virtue can steadily be practised; +but he might, with equal propriety, have placed prudence and justice +before it; since without prudence fortitude is mad; without justice, it +is mischievous. As the end of method is perspicuity, that series is +sufficiently regular that avoids obscurity; and where there is no +obscurity, it will not be difficult to discover method. + +In the _Spectator_ was published the “Messiah,” which he first submitted +to the perusal of Steele, and corrected in compliance with his +criticisms. It is reasonable to infer from his “Letters” that the verses +on the “Unfortunate Lady” were written about the time when his “Essay” +was published. The lady’s name and adventures I have sought with +fruitless inquiry. I can therefore tell no more than I have learned from +Mr. Ruffhead, who writes with the confidence of one who could trust his +information. She was a woman of eminent rank and large fortune, the ward +of an uncle, who, having given her a proper education, expected, like +other guardians, that she should make at least an equal match; and such +he proposed to her, but found it rejected in favour of a young gentleman +of inferior condition. Having discovered the correspondence between the +two lovers, and finding the young lady determined to abide by her own +choice, he supposed that separation might do what can rarely be done by +arguments, and sent her into a foreign country, where she was obliged to +converse only with those from whom her uncle had nothing to fear. Her +lover took care to repeat his vows; but his letters were intercepted and +carried to her guardian, who directed her to be watched with still +greater vigilance, till of this restraint she grow so impatient that she +bribed a woman servant to procure her a sword, which she directed to her +heart. + +From this account, given with evident intention to raise the lady’s +character, it does not appear that she had any claim to praise nor much +to compassion. She seems to have been impatient, violent, and +ungovernable. Her uncle’s power could not have lasted long; the hour of +liberty and choice would have come in time. But her desires were too hot +for delay, and she liked self-murder better than suspense. Nor is it +discovered that the uncle, whoever he was, is with much justice delivered +to posterity as “a false guardian.” He seems to have done only that for +which a guardian is appointed; he endeavoured to direct his niece till +she should be able to direct herself. Poetry has not often been worse +employed than in dignifying the amorous fiery of a raving girl. + +Not long after he wrote the “Rape of the Lock,” the most airy, the most +ingenious, and the most delightful off all his compositions, occasioned +by a frolic of gallantry, rather too familiar, in which Lord Petre cut +off a lock of Mrs. Arabella Fermor’s hair. This, whether stealth or +violence, was so much resented that the commerce of the two families, +before very friendly, was interrupted. Mr. Caryl, a gentleman who, being +secretary to King James’s queen, had followed his mistress into France, +and who, being the author of _Sir Solomon Single_, a comedy, and some +translations, was entitled to the notice of a wit, solicited Pope to +endeavour a reconciliation by a ludicrous poem which might bring both the +parties to a better temper. In compliance with Caryl’s request, though +his name was for a long time marked only by the first and last letter, +“C—l,” a poem of two cantos, was written (1711), as is said, in a +fortnight, and sent to the offended lady, who liked it well enough to +show it; and, with the usual process of literary transactions, the +author, dreading a surreptitious edition, was forced to publish it. + +The event is said to have been such as was desired, the pacification and +diversion of all to whom it related, except Sir George Brown, who +complained with some bitterness that, in the character of Sir Plume, he +was made to talk nonsense. Whether all this be true I have some doubt; +for at Paris, a few years ago, a niece of Mrs. Fermor, who presided in an +English convent, mentioned Pope’s work with very little gratitude, rather +as an insult than an honour; and she may be supposed to have inherited +the opinion of her family. At its first appearance at was termed by +Addison “merum sal.” Pope, however, saw that it was capable of +improvement; and, having luckily contrived to borrow his machinery from +the Rosicrucians, imparted the scheme with which his head was teeming to +Addison, who told him that his work, as it stood, was “a delicious little +thing,” and gave him no encouragement to retouch it. + +This has been too hastily considered as an instance of Addison’s +jealousy, for, as he could not guess the conduct of the new design, or +the possibilities of pleasure comprised in a fiction of which there had +been no examples, he might very reasonably and kindly persuade the author +to acquiesce in his own prosperity, and forbear an attempt which he +considered as an unnecessary hazard. Addison’s counsel was happily +rejected. Pope foresaw the future efflorescence of imagery then budding +in his mind, and resolved to spare no art or industry of cultivation. +The soft luxuriance of his fancy was already shooting, and all the gay +varieties of diction were ready at his hand to colour and embellish it. +His attempt was justified by its success. The “Rape of the Lock” stands +forward, in the classes of literature, as the most exquisite example of +ludicrous poetry. Berkeley congratulated him upon the display of powers +more truly poetical than he had shown before with elegance of description +and justness of precepts he had now exhibited boundless fertility of +invention. He always considered the intermixture of the machinery with +the action as his most successful exertion of poetical art. He, indeed, +could never afterwards produce anything of such unexampled excellence. +Those performances, which strike with wonder, are combinations of skilful +genius with happy casualty; and it is not likely that any felicity, like +the discovery of a new race of preternatural agents, should happen twice +to the same man. Of this poem the author was, I think, allowed to enjoy +the praise for a long time without disturbance. Many years afterwards +Dennis published some remarks upon it with very little force and with no +effect; for the opinion of the public was already settled, and it was no +longer at the mercy of criticism. + +About this time he published the “Temple of Fame,” which, as he tells +Steele in their correspondence, he had written two years before—that is, +when he was only twenty-two years old, an early time of life for so much +learning and so much observation as that work exhibits. On this poem +Dennis afterwards published some remarks, of which the most reasonable is +that some of the lines represent motion as exhibited by sculpture. + +Of the Epistle from “Eloisa to Abelard,” I do not know the date. His +first inclination to attempt a composition of that tender kind arose, as +Mr. Savage told me, from his perusal of Prior’s “Nut-brown Maid.” How +much he has surpassed Prior’s work it is not necessary to mention, when +perhaps it may be said, with justice, that he has excelled every +composition of the same kind. The mixture of religious hope and +resignation gives an elevation and dignity to disappointed love, which +images merely natural cannot bestow. The gloom of a convent strikes the +imagination with far greater force than the solitude of a grove. This +piece was, however, not much his favourite in his later years, though I +never heard upon what principle he slighted it. + +In the next year (1713) he published “Windsor Forest,” of which part was, +as he relates, written at sixteen, about the same time as his Pastorals, +and the latter part was added afterwards. Where the addition begins we +are not told. The lines relating to the peace confess their own date. +It is dedicated to Lord Lansdowne, who was then in high reputation and +influence among the Tories; and it is said that the conclusion of the +poem gave great pain to Addison, both as a poet and a politician. +Reports like this are often spread with boldness very disproportionate to +their evidence. Why should Addison receive any particular disturbance +from the last lines of “Windsor Forest”? If contrariety of opinion could +poison a politician, he could not live a day; and, as a poet, he must +have felt Pope’s force of genius much more from many other parts of his +works. The pain that Addison might feel it is not likely that he would +confess; and it is certain that he so well suppressed his discontent that +Pope now thought himself his favourite, for, having been consulted in the +revisal of “Cato” he introduced it by a prologue; and, when Dennis +published his remarks, undertook, not indeed to vindicate, but to revenge +his friend, by a “Narrative of the Frenzy of John Dennis.” + +There is reason to believe that Addison gave no encouragement to this +disingenuous hostility, for, says Pope, in a letter to him, “indeed your +opinion, that ’tis entirely to be neglected, would be my own in my own +case; but I felt more warmth here than I did when I first saw his book +against myself (though, indeed, in two minutes it made me heartily +merry).” Addison was not a man on whom such cant of sensibility could +make much impression. He left the pamphlet to itself, having disowned it +to Dennis, and perhaps did not think Pope to have deserved much by his +officiousness. + +This year was printed in the _Guardian_ the ironical comparison between +the pastorals of Philips and Pope, a composition of artifice, criticism, +and literature, to which nothing equal will easily be found. The +superiority of Pope is so ingeniously dissembled, and the feeble lines of +Philips so skilfully preferred, that Steele, being deceived, was +unwilling to print the paper, lest Pope should be offended. Addison +immediately saw the writer’s design, and, as it seems, had malice enough +to conceal his discovery, and to permit a publication which, by making +his friend Philips ridiculous, made him for ever an enemy to Pope. + +It appears that about this time Pope had a strong inclination to unite +the art of painting with that of poetry, and put himself under the +tuition of Jervas. He was near-sighted, and therefore not formed by +nature for a painter; he tried, however, how far he could advance, and +sometimes persuaded his friends to sit. A picture of Betterton, supposed +to be drawn by him, was in the possession of Lord Mansfield. If this was +taken from the life, he must have begun to paint earlier, for Betterton +was now dead. Pope’s ambition of this new art produced some encomiastic +verses to Jervas, which certainly show his power as a poet; but I have +been told that they betray his ignorance of painting. He appears to have +regarded Betterton with kindness and esteem, and after his death +published, under his name, a version into modern English of Chaucer’s +Prologues and one of his Tales, which, as was related by Mr. Harte, were +believed to have been the performance of Pope himself by Fenton, who made +him a gay offer of five pounds if he would show them in the hand of +Betterton. + +The next year (1713) produced a bolder attempt, by which profit was +sought as well as praise. The poems which he had hitherto written, +however they might have diffused his name, had made very little addition +to his fortune. The allowance which his father made him, though, +proportioned to what he had, it might be liberal, could not be large; his +religion hindered him from the occupation of any civil employment; and he +complained that he wanted even money to buy books. He therefore resolved +to try how far the favour of the public extended by soliciting a +subscription to a version of the “Iliad,” with large notes. To print by +subscription was, for some time, a practice peculiar to the English. The +first considerable work for which this expedient was employed is said to +have been Dryden’s “Virgil,” and it had been tried again with great +success when the _Tatlers_ were collected into volumes. + +There was reason to believe that Pope’s attempt would be successful. He +was in the full bloom of reputation and was personally known to almost +all whom dignity of employment or splendour of reputation had made +eminent; he conversed indifferently with both parties, and never +disturbed the public with his political opinions; and it might be +naturally expected, as each faction then boasted its literary zeal, that +the great men, who on other occasions practised all the violence of +opposition, would emulate each other in their encouragement of a poet who +delighted all, and by whom none had been offended. With these hopes, he +offered an English “Iliad” to subscribers, in six volumes in quarto, for +six guineas, a sum according to the value of money at that time by no +means inconsiderable, and greater than I believe to have been ever asked +before. His proposal, however, was very favourably received, and the +patrons of literature were busy to recommend his undertaking and promote +his interest. Lord Oxford, indeed, lamented that such a genius should be +wasted upon a work not original, but proposed no means by which he might +live without it. Addison recommended caution and moderation, and advised +him not to be content with the praise of half the nation when he might be +universally favoured. + +The greatness of the design, the popularity of the author, and the +attention of the literary world, naturally raised such expectations of +the future sale, that the booksellers made their offers with great +eagerness; but the highest bidder was Bernard Lintot, who became +proprietor on condition of supplying, at his own expense, all the copies +which were to be delivered to subscribers, or presented to friends, and +paying two hundred pounds for every volume. + +Of the quartos it was, I believe, stipulated that none should be printed +but for the author, that the subscription might not be depreciated; but +Lintot impressed the same pages upon a small folio, and paper perhaps a +little thinner, and sold exactly at half the price, for half a guinea +each volume, books so little inferior to the quartos that, by fraud of +trade, those folios being afterwards shortened by cutting away the top +and bottom, were sold as copies printed for the subscribers. + +Lintot printed two hundred and fifty on royal paper in folio for two +guineas a volume; of the small folio, having printed seventeen hundred +and fifty copies of the first volume, he reduced the number in the other +volumes to a thousand. It is unpleasant to relate that the bookseller, +after all his hopes and all his liberality, was, by a very unjust and +illegal action, defrauded of his profit. An edition of the English +“Iliad” was printed in Holland in duodecimo, and imported clandestinely +for the gratification of those who were impatient to read what they could +not yet afford to buy. This fraud could only be counteracted by an +edition equally cheap and more commodious; and Lintot was compelled to +contract his folio at once into a duodecimo, and lose the advantage of an +intermediate gradation. The notes which in the Dutch copies were placed +at the end of each book as they had been in the large volumes, were now +subjoined to the text in the same page, and are therefore more easily +consulted. Of this edition two thousand five hundred were first printed, +and five thousand a few weeks afterwards; but indeed great numbers were +necessary to produce considerable profit. + +Pope, having now emitted his proposals, and engaged not only his own +reputation but in some degree that of his friends who patronised his +subscription, began to be frightened at his own undertaking, and finding +himself at first embarrassed with difficulties which retarded and +oppressed him, he was for a time timorous and uneasy, had his nights +disturbed by dreams of long journeys through unknown ways, and wished, as +he said, “that somebody would hang him.” This misery, however, was not +of long continuance; he grew by degrees more acquainted with Homer’s +images and expressions, and practice increased his facility of +versification. In a short time he represents himself as despatching +regularly fifty verses a day, which would show him by an easy +computation, the termination of his labour. His own diffidence was not +his only vexation. He that asks a subscription soon finds that he has +enemies. All who do not encourage him defame him. He that wants money +would rather be thought angry than poor; and he that wishes to save his +money conceals his avarice by his malice. Addison had hinted his +suspicion that Pope was too much a Tory; and some of the Tories suspected +his principles because he had contributed to the _Guardian_, which was +carried on by Steele. + +To those who censured his politics were added enemies more dangerous, who +called in question his knowledge of Greek, and his qualifications for a +translator of “Homer.” To these he made no public opposition, but in one +of his letters escapes from them as well as he can. At an age like his, +for he was not more than twenty-five, with an irregular education and a +course of life of which much seems to have passed in conversation, it is +not very likely that he overflowed with Greek. But when he felt himself +deficient he sought assistance, and what man of learning would refuse to +help him? Minute inquiries into the force of words are less necessary in +translating Homer than other poets, because his positions are general, +and his representations natural, with very little dependence on local or +temporary customs, on those changeable scenes of artificial life, which, +by mingling original with accidental notions and crowding the mind with +images which time effaces, produces ambiguity in dictation and obscurity +in books. To this open display of unadulterated nature it must be +ascribed that Homer has fewer passages of doubtful meaning than any other +poet either in the learned or in modern languages. I have read of a man +who, being by his ignorance of Greek compelled to gratify his curiosity +with the Latin printed on the opposite page, declared that from the rude +simplicity of the lines literally rendered he formed nobler ideas of the +Homeric majesty than from the laboured elegance of polished versions. +Those literal translations were always at hand, and from them he could +easily obtain his author’s sense with sufficient certainty and among the +readers of Homer the number is very small of those who find much in the +Greek more than in the Latin, except the music of the numbers. + +If more help was wanting he had the poetical translation of Eobanus +Hessus, an unwearied writer of Latin verses; he had the French Homers of +La Valterie and Dacier, and the English of Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby. +With Chapman, whose work, though now totally neglected, seems to have +been popular almost to the end of the last century, he had very frequent +consultations, and perhaps never translated any passage till he had read +his version, which he indeed has been sometimes suspected of using +instead of the original. Notes were likewise to be provided, for the six +volumes would have been very little more than six pamphlets without them. +What the mere perusal of the text could suggest Pope wanted no assistance +to collect or methodise; but more was necessary. Many pages were to be +filled, and learning must supply materials to wit and judgment. +Something might be gathered from Dacier, but no man loves to be indebted +to his contemporaries, and Dacier was accessible to common readers. +Eustathius was therefore necessarily consulted. To read Eustathius, of +whose work there was then no Latin version, I suspect Pope if he had been +willing not to have been able. Some other was therefore to be found who +had leisure as well as abilities, and he was doubtless most readily +employed who would do much work for little money. + +The history of the notes has never been traced. Broome, an his preface +to his poems, declares himself the commentator “in part upon the +‘Iliad,’” and it appears from Fenton’s letter, preserved in the Museum, +that Broome was at first engaged in consulting Eustathius; but that after +a time, whatever was the reason, he desisted. Another man of Cambridge +was then employed, who soon grew weary of the work, and a third, that was +recommended by Thirlby, is now discovered to have been Jortin, a man +since well known to the learned world, who complained that Pope, having +accepted and approved his performance, never testified any curiosity to +see him, and who professed to have forgotten the terms on which he +worked. The terms which Fenton uses are very mercantile: “I think at +first sight that his performance is very commendable, and have sent word +for him to finish the seventeenth book, and to send it with his demands +for his trouble. I have here enclosed the specimen; if the rest come +before the return, I will keep them till I receive your order.” + +Broome then offered his service a second time, which was probably +accepted, as they had afterwards a closer correspondence. Parnell +contributed the “Life of Homer,” which Pope found so harsh, that he took +great pains in correcting it; and by his own diligence, with such help as +kindness or money could procure him, in somewhat more than five years he +completed his version of the “Iliad,” with the notes. He began it in +1712, his twenty-fifth year, and concluded it in 1718, his thirtieth +year. When we find him translating fifty lines a day, it is natural to +suppose that he would have brought his work to a more speedy conclusion. +The “Iliad,” containing less than sixteen thousand verses, might have +been despatched in less than three hundred and twenty days by fifty +verses in a day. The notes, compiled with the assistance of his +mercenaries, could not be supposed to require more time than the text. +According to this calculation, the progress of Pope may seem to have been +slow; but the distance is commonly very great between actual performances +and speculative possibility. It is natural to suppose, that as much as +has been done to-day may be done to-morrow; but on the morrow some +difficulty emerges, or some external impediment obstructs. + +Indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure, all take their turns of +retardation; and every long work is lengthened by a thousand causes that +can, and ten thousand that cannot, be recounted. Perhaps no extensive +and multifarious performance was ever effected within the term originally +fixed in the undertaker’s mind. He that runs against time has an +antagonist not subject to casualties. + +The encouragement given to this translation, though report seems to have +overrated it, was such as the world has not often seen. The subscribers +were five hundred and seventy-five. The copies, for which subscriptions +were given, were six hundred and fifty-four; and only six hundred and +sixty were printed. For these copies Pope had nothing to pay. He +therefore received, including the two hundred pounds a volume, five +thousand three hundred and twenty pounds, four shillings, without +deduction, as the books were supplied by Lintot. + +By the success of his subscription Pope was relieved from those pecuniary +distresses with which, notwithstanding his popularity, he had hitherto +struggled. Lord Oxford had often lamented his disqualification for +public employment, but never proposed a pension. While the translation +of “Homer” was in its progress, Mr. Craggs, then Secretary of State, +offered to procure him a pension, which, at least during his ministry, +might be enjoyed with secrecy. This was not accepted by Pope, who told +him, however, that, if he should be pressed with want of money, he would +send to him for occasional supplies. Craggs was not long in power, and +was never solicited for money by Pope, who disdained to beg what he did +not want. + +With the product of this subscription, which he had too much discretion +to squander, he secured his future life from want, by considerable +annuities. The estate of the Duke of Buckingham was found to have been +charged with five hundred pounds a year, payable to Pope, which doubtless +his translation enabled him to purchase. + +It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity, that I deduce thus minutely +the history of the English “Iliad.” It is certainly the noblest version +of poetry which the world has ever seen, and its publication must +therefore be considered as one of the great events in the annals of +learning. To those who have skill to estimate the excellence and +difficulty of this great work, it must be very desirable to know how it +was performed, and by what gradations it advanced to correctness. Of +such an intellectual process the knowledge has very rarely been +attainable; but happily there remains the original copy of the “Iliad,” +which, being obtained by Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him +to Mallet, and is now, by the solicitation of the late Dr. Maty, +reposited in the Museum. Between this manuscript, which is written upon +accidental fragments of paper, and the printed edition, there must have +been an intermediate copy, that was perhaps destroyed as it returned from +the press. + +From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall exhibit +first the printed lines; then, in a small print, those of the +manuscripts, with all their variations. Those words in the small print, +which are given in italics, are cancelled in the copy, and the words +placed under them adopted in their stead: + +The beginning of the first book stands thus:— + + The wrath of Peleus’ son, the direful spring + Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing, + That wrath which hurled to Pluto’s gloomy reign + The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain. + + The stern Pelides’ _rage_, O Goddess, sing, + wrath + Of all the woes _of Greece_ too fatal spring, + Grecian + That screwed with warriors dead the Phrygian plain, + heroes + And _peopled the dark with heroes_ slain: + filled the shady hell with chiefs untimely + + Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore, + Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore, + Since great Achilles and Atrides strove; + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove. + + Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore, + Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore, + Since first _Atrides_ and _Achilles_ strove; + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove. + + Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour + Sprung the fierce strife from what offended Power? + Latona’s son a dire contagion spread, + And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; + The King of Men his reverend priest defied, + And for the King’s offence the people died. + + Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power + Enflamed their _rage_ in that _ill-omened_ hour; + anger fatal, hapless + Phœbus himself the _dire_ debate procured, + fierce + To avenge the wrongs his injured priest endured; + For this the god a dire infection spread, + And heaped the camp with millions of the dead: + The King of men the sacred sire defied, + And for the King’s offence the people died. + + For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain + His captive daughter from the Victor’s chain; + Suppliant the venerable father stands, + Apollo’s awful ensigns grace his hands, + By these he begs, and, lowly bending down, + Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown. + + For Chryses sought by _presents to regain_ + costly gifts to gain + His captive daughter from the Victor’s chain; + Suppliant the venerable father stands, + Apollo’s awful ensigns graced his hands. + By these he begs, and, lowly bending down + _The golden sceptre_ and the laurel crown, + Presents the sceptre + _For these as ensigns of his god he bare_, + _The god who sends his golden shaft afar_; + Then low on earth the venerable man, + Suppliant before the brother kings began. + + He sued to all, but chief implored for grace, + The brother kings of Atreus’ royal race; + Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crowned, + And Troy’s proud walls lie level with the ground; + May Jove restore you, when your toils are o’er, + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. + + To all he sued, but chief implored for grace + The brother kings of Atreus’ royal race. + Ye _sons of Atreus_, may your vows be crowned, + kings and warriors + _Your labours_, _by the gods be all your labours crowned_; + _So may the gods your arms with conquest bless_, + _And_ Troy’s proud walls _lie_ level with the ground; + Till laid + _And crown your labours with desired success_; + May Jove restore you when your toils are o’er + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. + + But, oh! relieve a wretched parent’s pain, + And give Chryses to these arms again; + If mercy fail, yet let my present move, + And dread avenging Phœbus, son of Jove. + + But, oh! relieve a hapless parent’s pain, + And give my daughter to these arms again; + _Receive my gifts_, if mercy fails, yet let my present move, + And fear _the god who deals his darts around_, + avenging Phœbus, son of Jove. + + The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare, + The priest to reverence, and release the fair: + Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride, + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied. + + He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare, + _The father said_, _the generous Greeks relent_, + To accept the ransom, and restore the fair: + _Revere the priest_, _and speak their joint assent_; + Not so _the tyrant_; he, with kingly pride, + Atrides, + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied + [Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN.] + +Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was yet +a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations. + +The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed +page, and is therefore set down without any parallel. The few slight +differences do not require to be elaborately displayed. + + Now pleasing sleep had sealed each mortal eye: + Stretched in the tents the Grecian leaders lie; + The Immortals slumbered on their thrones above, + All but the ever-wakeful eye of Jove. + To honour Thetis’ son he bends his care, + And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war. + Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight, + And thus _commands_ the vision of the night: directs + Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air, + To Agamemnon’s royal tent repair; + Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train, + March all his legions to the dusty plain. + _Now tell the King_ ’tis given him to destroy + Declare even now + The lofty _walls_ of wide-extended Troy; towers + For now no more the gods with fate contend; + At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction _hovers_ o’er yon devoted wall, hangs + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. + +Invocation to the catalogue of ships. + + Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine, + All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine! + Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasured height, + And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight + (We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below, + But guess by rumour, and but boast we know), + Oh! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame, + Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came! + To count them all demands a thousand tongues, + A throat of brass and adamantine lungs. + + Now virgin goddesses, immortal nine! + That round Olympus’ heavenly summit shine, + Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound, + And all things know, and all things can resound! + Relate what armies sought the Trojan land, + What nations followed, and what chiefs command; + (For doubtful fame distracts mankind below, + And nothing can we tell, and nothing know) + Without your aid, to count the unnumbered train, + A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain. + + Book V. _v._ 1. + + But Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires, + Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires: + Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise, + And crown her hero with distinguished praise, + High on his helm celestial lightnings play, + His beamy shield emits a living ray; + The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, + Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies. + But Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires, + Fills with her _rage_, and warms with all her fires; + force + O’er all the Greeks decrees his fame to raise, + Above the Greeks _her warrior’s_ fame to raise, + his deathless + And crown her hero with _immortal_ praise: distinguished + _Bright from_ his beamy _crest the_ lightnings play, + High on helm + From his broad buckler flashed the living ray; + High on his helm celestial lightnings play, + His beamy shield emits a living ray; + The goddess with her breath the flame supplies, + Bright as the star whose fires in autumn rise; + Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies, + Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies: + The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, + Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies. + + When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, + And bathed in ocean shoots a keener light, + Such glories Pallas on the chief bestowed, + Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flowed; + Onward she drives him, furious to engage, + Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage. + + When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, + And gilds old ocean with a blaze of light, + Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies, + Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and skies: + Such glories Pallas on her chief bestowed, + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed, + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed, + Onward she drives him _headlong_ to engage, + furious + Where the _war bleeds_, and where the _fiercest_ rage. + fight burns thickest + + The sons of Dares first the combat sought, + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; + In Vulcan’s fane the father’s days were led, + The sons to toils of glorious battle bred; + + There lived a Trojan—Dares was his name, + The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame; + The sons of Dares first the combat sought, + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault. + + _Conclusion of_ Book VIII. _v._ 687. + + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, + O’er heaven’s clear azure spreads her sacred light, + When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, + And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene; + Around her throne the vivid planets roll, + And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole: + O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, + And tip with silver every mountain’s head: + Then shine the vales—the rocks in prospect rise, + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies; + The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, + Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. + So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays; + The long reflections of the distant fires + Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires. + A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, + And shoot a shady lustre o’er the field; + Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, + Whose umbered arms by fits thick flashes send; + Loud neigh the coursers o’er their heaps of corn, + And ardent warriors wait the rising morn. + + As when in stillness of the silent night, + As when the moon in all her lustre bright, + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, + O’er Heaven’s _clear_ azure _sheds_ her _silver_ light; + pure spreads sacred + As still in air the trembling lustre stood, + And o’er its golden border shoots a flood; + When _no loose gale_ disturbs the deep serene, + not a breath + And _no dim_ cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene; + not a + Around her silver throne the planets glow, + And stars unnumbered _trembling beams bestow_; + Around her throne the vivid planets roll, + And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole: + Clear gleams of light _o’er the dark trees are seen_, + o’er the dark trees a yellow sheds + O’er the dark trees a yellower _green_ they shed, + gleam + verdure + And tip with silver _all the mountain heads_ + forest + And tip with silver every mountain’s head. + The valleys open, and the forests rise, + The vales appear, the rocks in prospect rise, + Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, + All nature stands revealed before our eyes; + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies. + The conscious shepherd, joyful at the sight, + Eyes the blue vault, and numbers every light. + The conscious swains _rejoicing at the sight_, + shepherds gazing with delight + Eye the blue vault, and bless the _vivid_ light. + glorious + useful + So many flames before _the navy_ blaze, + proud Ilion + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays, + Wide o’er the fields to Troy extend the gleams, + And tip the distant spires with fainter beams; + The long reflections of the distant fires + Gild the high walls, and tremble on the spires; + Gleam on the walls, and _tremble on the_ spires; + A thousand fires at distant stations bright, + Gild the dark prospect, and dispel the night. + +Of these specimens every man who has cultivated poetry, or who delights +to trace the mind from the rudeness of its first conceptions to the +elegance of its last, will naturally desire a great number; but most +other readers are already tired, and I am not writing only to poets and +philosophers. + +The “Iliad” was published volume by volume, as the translation proceeded. +The four first books appeared in 1713. The expectation of this work was +undoubtedly high, and every man who had connected his name with criticism +or poetry was desirous of such intelligence as might enable him to talk +upon the popular topic. Halifax, who, by having been first a poet, and +then a patron of poetry, had acquired the right of being a judge, was +willing to hear some books while they were yet unpublished. Of this +rehearsal Pope afterwards gave the following account:— + + “The famous Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to taste than really + possessed of it. When I had finished the two or three first books of + my translation of the ‘Iliad,’ that lord desired to have the pleasure + of hearing them read at his house. Addison, Congreve, and Garth were + there at the reading. In four or five places Lord Halifax stopped me + very civilly, and with a speech each time of much the same kind, ‘I + beg your pardon, Mr. Pope, but there is something in that passage + that does not please me. Be so good as to mark the place, and + consider it a little at your leisure. I am sure you can give it a + little turn.’ I returned from Lord Halifax’s with Dr. Garth in his + chariot, and as we were going along was saying to the Doctor that my + lord had laid me under a great deal of difficulty by such loose and + general observations; that I had been thinking over the passages + almost ever since, and could not guess at what it was that offended + his lordship in either of them. Garth laughed heartily at my + embarrassment: said I had not been long enough acquainted with Lord + Halifax to know his way yet; that I need not puzzle myself about + looking those places over and over when I got home. ‘All you need + do,’ says he, ‘is to leave them just as they are, call on Lord + Halifax two or three months hence, thank him for his kind + observations on those passages, and then read them to him as altered. + I have known him much longer than you have, and will be answerable + for the event.’ I followed his advice, waited on Lord Halifax some + time after; said I hoped he would find his objections to those + passages removed; read them to him exactly as they were at first; and + his lordship was extremely pleased with them, and cried out, ‘Ay, now + they are perfectly right; nothing can be better.’” + +It is seldom that the great or the wise suspect that they are despised or +cheated. Halifax, thinking this a lucky opportunity of securing +immortality, made some advances of favour and some overtures of advantage +to Pope, which he seems to have received with sullen coldness. All our +knowledge of this transaction is derived from a single letter (December +1, 1714), in which Pope says, “I am obliged to you, both for the favours +you have done me and those you intend me. I distrust neither your will +nor your memory when it is to do good; and if I ever become troublesome +or solicitous, it must not be out of expectation, but out of gratitude. +Your lordship may cause me to live agreeably in the town, or contentedly +in the country, which is really all the difference I set between an easy +fortune and a small one. It is indeed a high strain of generosity in you +to think of making me easy all my life, only because I have been so happy +as to divert you some few hours; but, if I may have leave to add it is +because you think me no enemy to my native country, there will appear a +better reason; for I must of consequence be very much (as I sincerely am) +yours, &c.” + +These voluntary offers, and this faint acceptance, ended without effect. +The patron was not accustomed to such frigid gratitude; and the poet fed +his own pride with the dignity of independence. They probably were +suspicious of each other. Pope would not dedicate till he saw at what +rate his praise was valued; he would be “troublesome out of gratitude, +not expectation.” Halifax thought himself entitled to confidence, and +would give nothing unless he knew what he should receive. Their commerce +had its beginning in hope of praise on one side and of money on the +other, and ended because Pope was less eager of money than Halifax of +praise. It is not likely that Halifax had any personal benevolence to +Pope; it is evident that Pope looked on Halifax with scorn and hatred. + +The reputation of this great work failed of gaining him a patron but it +deprived him of a friend. Addison and he were now at the head of poetry +and criticism, and both in such a state of elevation that, like the two +rivals in the Roman State, one could no longer bear an equal, nor the +other a superior. Of the gradual abatement of kindness between friends, +the beginning is often scarcely discernible to themselves, and the +process is continued by petty provocations, and incivilities sometimes +peevishly returned, and sometimes contemptuously neglected, which would +escape all attention but that of pride, and drop from any memory but that +of resentment. That the quarrel of these two wits should be minutely +deduced is not to be expected from a writer to whom, as Homer says, +“nothing but rumour has reached, and who has no personal knowledge.” + +Pope doubtless approached Addison, when the reputation of their wit first +brought them together, with the respect due to a man whose abilities were +acknowledged, and who, having attained that eminence to which he was +himself aspiring, had in his hands the distribution of literary fame. He +paid court with sufficient diligence by his prologue to “Cato,” by his +abuse of Dennis, and with praise yet more direct, by his poem on the +“Dialogues on Medals,” of which the immediate publication was then +intended. In all this there was no hypocrisy for he confessed that he +found in Addison something more pleasing than in any other man. + +It may be supposed that, as Pope saw himself favoured by the world, and +more frequently compared his own powers with those of others, his +confidence increased, and his submission lessened; and that Addison felt +no delight from the advances of a young wit, who might soon contend with +him for the highest place. Every great man, of whatever kind be his +greatness, has among his friends those who officiously or insidiously +quicken his attention to offences, heighten his disgust, and stimulate +his resentment. Of such adherents Addison doubtless had many; and Pope +was now too high to be without them. From the emission and reception of +the proposals for the “Iliad,” the kindness of Addison seems to have +abated. Jervas the painter once pleased himself (August 20, 1714) with +imagining that he had re-established their friendship, and wrote to Pope +that Addison once suspected him of too close a confederacy with Swift, +but was now satisfied with his conduct. To this Pope answered, a week +after, that his engagements to Swift were such as his services in regard +to the subscription demanded, and that the Tories never put him under the +necessity of asking leave to be grateful. “But,” says he, “as Mr. +Addison must be the judge in what regards himself, and seems to have no +very just one in regard to me, so I must own to you I expect nothing but +civility from him.” In the same letter he mentions Philips, as having +been busy to kindle animosity between them; but in a letter to Addison he +expresses some consciousness of behaviour, inattentively deficient in +respect. + +Of Swift’s industry in promoting the subscription there remains the +testimony of Kennet, no friend to either him or Pope. + + “November 2, 1713, Dr. Swift came into the coffee-house, and had a + bow from everybody but me, who, I confess, could not but despise him. + When I came to the antechamber to wait, before prayers, Dr. Swift was + the principal man of talk and business, and acted as master of + requests. Then he instructed a young nobleman that the _best poet in + England_ was Mr. Pope (a papist), who had begun a translation of + ‘Homer’ into English verse, for which _he must have them all + subscribe_: for, says he, the author _shall not_ begin to print till + _I have_ a thousand guineas for him.” + +About this time it is likely that Steele, who was, with all his political +fury, good-natured and officious, procured an interview between these +angry rivals, which ended in aggravated malevolence. On this occasion, +if the reports be true, Pope made his complaint with frankness and +spirit, as a man undeservedly neglected or opposed; and Addison affected +a contemptuous unconcern, and in a calm, even voice reproached Pope with +his vanity, and, telling him of the improvements which his early works +had received from his own remarks and those of Steele, said that he, +being now engaged in public business, had no longer any care for his +poetical reputation, nor had any other desire with regard to Pope than +that he should not, by too much arrogance, alienate the public. + +To this Pope is said to have replied with great keenness and severity, +upbraiding Addison with perpetual dependence, and with the abuse of those +qualifications which he had obtained at the public cost, and charging him +with mean endeavours to obstruct the progress of rising merit. The +contest rose so high that they parted at last without any interchange of +civility. + +The first volume of “Homer” was (1715) in time published; and a rival +version of the first “Iliad,” for rivals the time of their appearance +inevitably made them, was immediately printed, with the name of Tickell. +It was soon perceived that, among the followers of Addison, Tickell had +the preference, and the critics and poets divided into factions. “I,” +says Pope, “have the town, that is, the mob, on my side; but it is not +uncommon for the smaller party to supply by industry what it wants in +numbers. I appeal to the people as my rightful judges, and, while they +are not inclined to condemn me, shall not fear the high-flyers at +Button’s.” This opposition he immediately imputed to Addison, and +complained of it in terms sufficiently resentful to Craggs, their common +friend. + +When Addison’s opinion was asked, he declared the versions to be both +good, but Tickell’s the best that had ever been written; and sometimes +said that they were both good, but that Tickell had more of “Homer.” + +Pope was now sufficiently irritated; his reputation and his interest were +at hazard. He once intended to print together the four versions of +Dryden, Maynwaring, Pope, and Tickell, that they might be readily +compared and fairly estimated. This design seems to have been defeated +by the refusal off Tonson, who was the proprietor of the other three +versions. + +Pope intended, at another time, a rigorous criticism of Tickell’s +translation, and had marked a copy, which I have seen, in all places that +appeared defective. But while he was thus meditating defence or revenge, +his adversary sunk before him without a blow; the voice of the public was +not long divided, and the preference universally given to Pope’s +performance. He was convinced, by adding one circumstance to another, +that the other translation was the work of Addison himself; but, if he +knew it in Addison’s lifetime, it does not appear that he told it. He +left his illustrious antagonist to lie punished by what has been +considered as the most painful of all reflections—the remembrance of a +crime perpetrated in vain. The other circumstances of their quarrel were +thus related by Pope:— + + “Philips seemed to have been encouraged to abuse me in coffee-houses + and conversations, and Gildon wrote a thing about Wycherley, in which + he had abused both me and my relations very grossly. Lord Warwick + himself told me one day that it was in vain for me to endeavour to be + well with Mr. Addison; that his jealous temper would never admit of a + settled friendship between us; and, to convince me of what he had + said, assured me that Addison had encouraged Gildon to publish those + scandals, and had given him ten guineas after they were published. + The next day, while I was heated with what I had heard, I wrote a + letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted + with this behaviour of his; that if I was to speak severely of him in + return for it, it should not be in such a dirty way; that I should + rather tell him himself fairly of his faults, and allow his good + qualities; and that it should be something in the following manner. + I then adjoined the first sketch of what has since been called my + satire on Addison. Mr Addison used me very civilly ever after.” + +The verses on Addison, when they were sent to Atterbury, were considered +by him as the most excellent of Pope’s performances; and the writer was +advised, since he knew where his strength lay, not to suffer it to remain +unemployed. This year (1715), being by the subscription enabled to live +more by choice, having persuaded his father to sell their estate at +Binfield, he purchased, I think only for his life, that house at +Twickenham to which his residence afterwards procured so much +celebration, and removed thither with his father and mother. Here he +planted the vines and the quincunx which his verses mention; and being +under the necessity of making a subterraneous passage to a garden on the +other side of the road, he adorned it with fossil bodies, and dignified +it with the title of a grotto; a place of silence and retreat, from which +he endeavoured to persuade his friends and himself that cares and +passions could be excluded. + +A grotto is not often the wish or pleasure of all Englishmen, who has +more frequent need to solicit than exclude the sun; but Pope’s excavation +was requisite as an entrance to his garden; and, as some men try to be +proud of their defects, he extracted an ornament from an inconvenience, +and vanity produced a grotto where necessity enforced a passage. It may +be frequently remarked of the studious and speculative, that they are +proud of trifles, and that their amusements seem frivolous and childish. +Whether it be that men, conscious of great reputation, think themselves +above the reach of censure, and safe in the admission of negligent +indulgences, or that mankind expect from elevated genius a uniformity of +greatness, and watch its degradation with malicious wonder, like him who, +having followed with his eye an eagle into the clouds, should lament that +she ever descended to a perch. + +While the volumes of his “Homer” were annually published, he collected +his former works (1717) into one quarto volume, to which he prefixed a +preface, written with great sprightliness and elegance, which was +afterwards reprinted, with some passages subjoined that he at first +omitted. Other marginal additions of the same kind he made in the later +editions of his poems. Waller remarks, that poets lose half their +praise, because the reader knows not what they have blotted. Pope’s +voracity of fame taught him the art of obtaining the accumulated honour +both of what he had published, and of what he had suppressed. In this +year his father died suddenly, in his seventy-fifth year, having passed +twenty-nine years in privacy. He is not known but by the character which +his son has given him. If the money with which he retired was all gotten +by himself, he had traded very successfully in times when sudden riches +were rarely attainable. + +The publication of the “Iliad” was at last completed in 1720. The +splendour and success of this work raised Pope many enemies that +endeavoured to depreciate his abilities. Burnet, who was afterwards a +judge of no mean reputation, censured him in a piece called “Homerides” +before it was published. Ducket likewise endeavoured to make him +ridiculous. Dennis was the perpetual persecutor of all his studies. But +whoever his critics were, their writings are lost, and the names, which +are preserved are preserved in the “Dunciad.” + +In this disastrous year (1720) of national infatuation, when more riches +than Peru can boast were expected from the South Sea, when the contagion +of avarice tainted every mind, and even poets panted after wealth, Pope +was seized with the universal passion, and ventured some of his money. +The stock rose in its price, and for a while he thought himself the lord +of thousands. But this dream of happiness did not last long, and he +seems to have waked soon enough to get clear with the loss of what he +once thought himself to have won, and perhaps not wholly of that. + +Next year he published some select poems of his friend Dr. Parnell, with +a very elegant dedication to the Earl of Oxford, who, after all his +struggles and dangers, then lived in retirement, still under the frown of +a victorious faction, who could take no pleasure in hearing his praise. +He gave the same year (1721) an edition of Shakespeare. His name was now +of so much authority that Tonson thought himself entitled, by annexing +it, to demand a subscription of six guineas for Shakespeare’s plays in +six quarto volumes. Nor did his expectation much deceive him, for, of +seven hundred and fifty which he printed, he dispersed a great number at +the price proposed. The reputation of that edition indeed, sunk, +afterwards so low, that one hundred and forty copies were sold at sixteen +shillings each. On this undertaking, to which Pope was induced by a +reward of two hundred and seventeen pounds twelve shillings, he seems +never to have reflected afterwards without vexation; for Theobald a man +of heavy diligence, with very slender powers, first, in a book called +“Shakespeare Restored,” and then in a formal edition, detected his +deficiencies with all the insolence of victory; and as he was now high +enough to be feared and hated, Theobald had from others all the help that +could be supplied, by the desire of humbling a haughty character. From +this time Pope became an enemy to editors, collators, commentators, and +verbal critics, and hoped to persuade the world that he miscarried in +this undertaking only by having a mind too great for such minute +employment. + +Pope in his edition undoubtedly did many things wrong, and left many +things undone; but let him not be defrauded of his due praise. He was +the first that knew, at least the first that told, by what helps the text +might be improved. If he inspected the early editions negligently, he +taught others to be more accurate. In his preface he expanded with great +skill and elegance the character which had been given of Shakespeare by +Dryden; and he drew the public attention upon his works, which, though +often mentioned, had been little read. Soon after the appearance of the +“Iliad,” resolving not to let the general kindness cool, he published +proposals for a translation of the “Odyssey,” in five volumes, for five +guineas. He was willing, however, now to have associates in his labour, +being either weary with toiling upon another’s thoughts, or having heard, +as Ruffhead relates, that Fenton and Broome had already begun the work, +and liking better to have them confederates than rivals. In the patent, +instead of saying that he had “translated” the “Odyssey,” as he had said +of the “Iliad,” he says that he had “undertaken” a translation: and in +the proposals, the subscription is said to be not solely for his own use, +but for that of “two of his friends who have assisted him in his work.” + +In 1723, while he was engaged in this new version, he appeared before the +Lords at the memorable trial of Bishop Atterbury, with whom he had lived +in great familiarity, and frequent correspondence. Atterbury had +honestly recommended to him the study of the Popish controversy, in hope +of his conversion; to which Pope answered in a manner that cannot much +recommend his principles or his judgment. In questions and projects of +learning they agree better. He was called at the trial to give an +account of Atterbury’s domestic life and private employment, that it +might appear how little time he had left for plots. Pope had but few +words to utter, and in those few he made several blunders. + +His letters to Atterbury express the utmost esteem, tenderness, and +gratitude. “Perhaps,” says he, “it is not only in this world that I may +have cause to remember the Bishop of Rochester.” At their last interview +in the Tower, Atterbury presented him with a Bible. + +Of the “Odyssey” Pope translated only twelve books. The rest were the +work of Broome and Fenton: the notes were written wholly by Broome, who +was not over liberally rewarded. The public was carefully kept ignorant +of the several shares; and an account was subjoined at the conclusion +which is now known not to be true. The first copy of Pope’s books, with +those of Fenton, are to be seen in the Museum. The parts of Pope are +less interlined than the “Iliad,” and the latter books of the “Iliad” +less than the former. He grew dexterous by practice, and every sheet +enabled him to write the next with more facility. The books of Fenton +have very few alterations by the hand of Pope. Those of Broome have not +been found, but Pope complained, as it is reported, that he had much +trouble in correcting them. His contract with Lintot was the same as for +the “Iliad,” except that only one hundred pounds were to be paid him for +each volume. The number of subscribers were five hundred and +seventy-four, and of copies eight hundred and nineteen, so that his +profit, when he had paid his assistants, was still very considerable. +The work was finished in 1723; and from that time he resolved to make no +more translations. The sale did not answer Lintot’s expectation, and he +then pretended to discover something of a fraud in Pope, and commenced or +threatened a suit in Chancery. + +On the English “Odyssey” a criticism was published by Spence, at that +time Prelector of Poetry at Oxford, a man whose learning was not very +great, and whose mind was not very powerful. His criticism, however, was +commonly just; what he thought he thought rightly, and his remarks were +recommended by his coolness and candour. In him Pope had the first +experience of a critic without malevolence, who thought it as much his +duty to display beauties as expose faults, who censured with respect, and +praised with alacrity. With this criticism Pope was so little offended, +that he sought the acquaintance of the writer, who lived with him from +that time in great familiarity, attended him in his last hours, and +compiled memorials of his conversation. The regard of Pope recommended +him to the great and powerful, and he obtained very valuable preferments +in the Church. Not long after Pope was returning home from a visit in a +friend’s coach, which, in passing a bridge, was overturned into the +water; the window’s were closed, and, being unable to force them open, he +was in danger of immediate death, when the postillion snatched him out by +breaking the glass, of which the fragments cut two of his fingers in such +a manner that he lost their use. + +Voltaire, who was then in England, sent him a letter of consolation. He +had been entertained by Pope at his table, where he talked with so much +grossness that Mrs. Pope was driven from the room. Pope discovered, by a +trick, that he was a spy for the Court, and never considered him as a man +worthy of confidence. He soon afterwards (1727) joined with Swift, who +was then in England, to publish three volumes of “Miscellanies,” in +which, amongst other things, he inserted the “Memoirs of a Parish Clerk,” +in ridicule of Burnet’s importance in his own history, and a “Debate upon +Black and White Horses,” written in all the formalities of a legal +process by the assistance, as is said, of Mr. Fortescue, afterwards +Master of the Rolls. Before these “Miscellanies” is a preface signed by +Swift and Pope, but apparently written by Pope, in which he makes a +ridiculous and romantic complaint of the robberies committed upon authors +by the clandestine seizure and sale of their papers. He tells in tragic +strains how “the cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead have +been broken open and ransacked,” as if those violences were often +committed for papers of uncertain and accidental value which are rarely +provoked by real treasures—as if epigrams and essays were in danger where +gold and diamonds are safe. A cat hunted for his musk is, according to +Pope’s account, but the emblem of a wit winded by booksellers. His +complaint, however, received some attestation, for the same year the +letters written by him to Mr. Cromwell in his youth were sold by Mrs. +Thomas to Curll, who printed them. + +In these “Miscellanies” was first published the “Art of Sinking in +Poetry,” which, by such a train of consequences as usually passes in +literary quarrels, gave in a short time, according to Pope’s account, +occasion to the “Dunciad.” + +In the following year (1728) he began to put Atterbury’s advice in +practice, and showed his satirical powers by publishing the “Dunciad,” +one of his greatest and most elaborate performances, in which he +endeavoured to sink into contempt all the writers by whom he had been +attacked, and some others whom he thought unable to defend themselves. +At the head of the “Dunces” he placed poor Theobald, whom he accused of +ingratitude, but whose real crime was supposed to be that of having +revised Shakespeare more happily than himself. This satire had the +effect which he intended, by blasting the characters which it touched. +Ralph, who, unnecessarily interposing in the quarrel, got a place in a +subsequent edition, complained that for a time he was in danger of +starving, as the booksellers had no longer any confidence in his +capacity. The prevalence of this poem was gradual and slow: the plan, if +not wholly new, was little understood by common readers. Many of the +allusions required illustration; the names were often expressed only by +the initial and final letters, and if they had been printed at length +were such as few had known or recollected. The subject itself had +nothing generally interesting, for whom did it concern to know that one +or another scribbler was a dunce? If, therefore, it had been possible +for those who were attacked to conceal their pain and their resentment, +the “Dunciad” might have made its way very slowly in the world. This, +however, was not to be expected: every man is of importance to himself, +and therefore, in his own opinion, to others; and, supposing the world +already acquainted with all his pleasures and his pains, is perhaps the +first to publish injuries or misfortunes, which had never been known +unless related by himself, and at which those that hear them will only +laugh, for no man sympathises with the sorrows of vanity. + +The history of the “Dunciad” is very minutely related by Pope himself in +a dedication which he wrote to Lord Middlesex in the name of Savage. + + “I will relate the war of the ‘Dunces’ (for so it has been commonly + called), which began in the year 1727, and ended in 1730 + + “When Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope thought it proper, for reasons specified + in the preface to their ‘Miscellanies,’ to publish such little pieces + of theirs as had occasionally got abroad, there was added to them the + ‘Treatise of the Bathos, or the Art of Sinking in Poetry.’ It + happened that in one chapter of this piece the several species of bad + poets were ranged in classes, to which were prefixed almost all the + letters of the alphabet (the greatest part of them at random); but + such was the number of poets eminent in that art, that some one or + other took every letter to himself. All fell into so violent a fury, + that, for half a year or more, the common newspapers (in most of + which they had some property, as being hired writers) were filled + with the most abusive falsehoods and scurrilities they could possibly + devise, a liberty no way to be wondered at in those people, and in + those papers, that, for many years during the uncontrolled license of + the Press, had aspersed almost all the great characters of the age; + and this with impunity, their own persons and names being utterly + secret and obscure. This gave Mr. Pope the thought that he had now + some opportunity of doing good by detecting and dragging into light + these common enemies of mankind, since, to invalidate this universal + slander, it sufficed to show what contemptible men were the authors + of it. He was not without hopes that, by manifesting the dulness of + those who had only malice to recommend them, either the booksellers + would not find their account in employing them, or the men + themselves, when discovered, want courage to proceed in so unlawful + an occupation. This it was that gave birth to the ‘Dunciad,’ and he + thought it a happiness that, by the late flood of slander on himself, + he had acquired such a peculiar right over their names as was + necessary to this design. + + “On the 12th of March, 1729, at St. James’s, that poem was presented + to the king and queen (who had before been pleased to read it) by the + Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole, and some days after the whole + impression was taken and dispersed by several noblemen and persons of + the first distinction. + + “It is certainly a true observation that no people are so impatient + of censure as those who are the greatest slanderers, which was + wonderfully exemplified on this occasion. On the day the book was + first vended a crowd of authors besieged the shop; entreaties, + advices, threats of law and battery—nay, cries of treason—were all + employed to hinder the coming out of the ‘Dunciad.’ On the other + side, the booksellers and hawkers made as great efforts to procure + it. What could a few poor authors do against so great a majority as + the public? There was no stopping a torrent with a finger, so out it + came. + + “Many ludicrous circumstances attended it. The ‘Dunces’ (for by this + name they were called) held weekly clubs, to consult of hostilities + against the author. One wrote a letter to a great minister, assuring + him Mr. Pope was the greatest enemy the Government had, and another + bought his image in clay to execute him in effigy, with which sad + sort of satisfaction the gentlemen were a little comforted. Some + false editions of the book, having an owl in their frontispiece, the + true one, to distinguish it, fixed in his stead an ass laden with + authors. Then another surreptitious one being printed with the same + ass, the new edition in octavo returned for distinction to the owl + again. Hence arose a great contest of booksellers against + booksellers, and advertisements against advertisements, some + recommending the edition of the owl, and others the edition of the + ass, by which names they came to be distinguished, to the great + honour also of the gentlemen of the ‘Dunciad.’” + +Pope appears by this narrative to have contemplated his victory over the +“Dunces” with great exultation; and such was his delight in the tumult +which he had raised, that for a while his natural sensibility was +suspended, and he read reproaches and invectives without emotion, +considering them only as the necessary effects of that pain which he +rejoiced in having given. It cannot, however, be concealed that, by his +own confession, he was the aggressor, for nobody believes that the +letters in the “Bathos” were placed at random; and at may be discovered +that, when he thinks himself concealed, he indulges the common vanity of +common men, and triumphs in those distinctions which he affected to +despise. He is proud that his book was presented to the king and queen +by the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole; he is proud that they had +read it before; he is proud that the edition was taken off by the +nobility and persons of the first distinction. The edition of which he +speaks was, I believe, that which, by telling in the text the names, and +in the notes the characters, of those whom he had satirised, was made +intelligible and diverting. The critics had now declared their +approbation of the plan, and the common reader began to like it without +fear. Those who were strangers to petty literature, and therefore unable +to decipher initials and blanks, had now names and persons brought within +their view, and delighted in the visible effects of those shafts of +malice which they had hitherto contemplated as shot into the air. + +Dennis, upon the fresh provocation now given him, renewed the enmity +which had for a time been appeased by mutual civilities, and published +remarks, which he had till then suppressed, upon the “Rape of the Lock.” +Many more grumbled in secret, or vented their resentment in the +newspapers by epigrams or invectives. Ducket, indeed, being mentioned as +loving Burnet with “pious passion,” pretended that his moral character +was injured, and for some time declared his resolution to take vengeance +with a cudgel. But Pope appeased him, by changing “pious passion” to +“cordial friendship,” and by a note, in which he vehemently disclaims the +malignity of the meaning imputed to the first expression. Aaron Hill, +who was represented as diving for the prize, expostulated with Pope in a +manner so much superior to all mean solicitation, that Pope was reduced +to sneak and shuffle, sometimes to deny, and sometimes to apologies; he +first endeavours to wound, and is then afraid to own that he meant a +blow. + +The “Dunciad,” in the complete edition, is addressed to Dr. Swift. Of +the notes, part were written by Dr. Arbuthnot, and an apologetical letter +was prefixed, signed by Cleland, but supposed to have been written by +Pope. + +After this general war upon dulness, he seems to have indulged himself a +while in tranquillity, but his subsequent productions prove that he was +not idle. He published (1731) a poem on “Taste,” in which he very +particularly and severely criticises the house, the furniture, the +gardens, and the entertainments of Timon, a man of great wealth and +little taste. By Timon he was universally supposed, and by the Earl of +Burlington, to whom the poem is addressed, was privately said, to mean +the Duke of Chandos, a man perhaps too much delighted with pomp and show, +but of a temper kind and beneficent, and who had consequently the voice +of the public in his favour. A violent outcry was, therefore, raised +against the ingratitude and treachery of Pope, who was said to have been +indebted to the patronage of Chandos for a present of a thousand pounds, +and who gained the opportunity of insulting him by the kindness of his +invitation. The receipt of the thousand pounds Pope publicly denied; but +from the reproach which the attack on a character so amiable brought upon +him, he tried all means of escaping. The name of Cleland was again +employed in an apology, by which no man was satisfied, and he was at last +reduced to shelter his temerity behind dissimulation, and endeavour to +make that disbelieved which he never had confidence openly to deny. He +wrote an exculpatory letter to the duke, which was answered with great +magnanimity, as by a man who accepted his excuse without believing his +professions. He said that to have ridiculed his taste, or his buildings, +had been an indifferent action in another man, but that in Pope, after +the reciprocal kindness that had been exchanged between them, it had been +less easily excused. + +Pope, in one of his letters, complaining of the treatment which his poem +had found, “owns that such critics can intimidate him, nay almost +persuade him, to write no more, which is a compliment this age deserves.” +The man who threatens the world is always ridiculous, for the world can +easily go on without him, and in a short time will cease to miss him. I +have heard of an idiot, who used to revenge his vexatious by lying all +night upon the bridge. “There is nothing,” says Juvenal, “that a man +will not believe in his own favour.” Pope had been flattered till he +thought himself one of the moving powers in the system of life. When he +talked of laying down his pen, those who sat round him entreated and +implored; and self-love did not suffer him to suspect that they went away +and laughed. + +The following year deprived him of Gay, a man whom he had known early, +and whom he seemed to love with more tenderness than any other of his +literary friends. Pope was now forty-four years old, an age at which the +mind begins less easily to admit new confidence, and the will to grow +less flexible, and when, therefore, the departure of an old friend is +very acutely felt. In the next year (1733) he lost his mother, not by an +unexpected death, for she had lasted to the age of ninety-three. But she +did not die unlamented. The filial piety of Pope was in the highest +degree amiable and exemplary. His parents had the happiness of living +till he was at the summit of poetical reputation, till he was at ease in +his fortune, and without a rival in his fame, and found no diminution of +his respect or tenderness. Whatever was his pride, to them he was +obedient; and whatever was his irritability, to them he was gentle. Life +has, among its soothing and quiet comforts, few things better to give +than such a son. + +One of the passages of Pope’s life, which seems to deserve some inquiry, +was a publication of “Letters” between him and many of his friends, +which, falling into the hands of Curll, a rapacious bookseller, of no +good fame, were by him printed and sold. This volume containing some +letters from noblemen, Pope incited a prosecution against him in the +House of Lords for breach of privilege, and attended himself to stimulate +the resentment of his friends. Curll appeared at the bar, and, knowing +himself in no great danger, spoke of Pope with very little reverence. +“He has,” said Curll, “a knack at versifying, but in prose I think myself +a match for him.” When the orders of the House were examined, none of +them appeared to have been infringed. Curll went away triumphant, and +Pope was left to seek some other remedy. + +Curll’s account was, that one evening a man in a clergyman’s gown, but +with a lawyer’s band, brought and offered for sale a number of printed +volumes, which he found to be Pope’s epistolary correspondence; that he +asked no name, and was told none, but gave the price demanded, and +thought himself authorised to use his purchase to his own advantage. +That Curll gave a true account of the transaction it is reasonable to +believe, because no falsehood was ever detected; and when, some years +afterwards, I mentioned it to Lintot, the son of Bernard, he declared his +opinion to be, that Pope knew better than anybody else how Curll obtained +the copies, because another parcel was at the same time sent to himself, +for which no price had ever been demanded, as he made known his +resolution not to pay a porter, and consequently not to deal with a +nameless agent. Such care had been taken to make them public, that they +were sent at once to two booksellers; to Curll, who was likely to seize +them as a prey, and to Lintot, who might he expected to give Pope +information of the seeming injury. Lintot, I believe, did nothing, and +Curll did what was expected. That to make them public was the only +purpose may be reasonably supposed, because the numbers offered to sale +by the private messengers showed that the hope of gain could not have +been the motive of the impression. It seems that Pope, being desirous of +printing his “Letters,” and not knowing how to do, without imputation of +vanity, what has in this country been done very rarely, contrived an +appearance of compulsion, that, when he could complain that his “Letters” +were surreptitiously published, he might decently and defensively publish +them himself. + +Pope’s private correspondence, thus promulgated, filled the nation with +the praises of his candour, tenderness, and benevolence, the purity of +his purposes, and the fidelity of his friendship. There were some +letters which a very good or a wise man would wish suppressed; but, as +they had been already exposed, it was impracticable now to retract them. +From the perusal of those letters, Mr. Allen first conceived the desire +of knowing him; and with so much zeal did he cultivate the friendship +which he had newly formed, that, when Pope told his purpose of +vindicating his own property by a genuine edition, he offered to pay the +cost. This, however, Pope did not accept; but in time solicited a +subscription for a quarto volume, which appeared (1737), I believe, with +sufficient profit. In the preface he tells that his letters were +reposited in a friend’s library, said to be the Earl of Oxford’s, and +that the copy thence stolen was sent to the press. The story was +doubtless received with different degrees of credit. It may be suspected +that the preface to the “Miscellanies” was written to prepare the public +for such an incident; and, to strengthen this opinion, James Worsdale, a +painter, who was employed in clandestine negotiations, but whose voracity +was very doubtful, declared that he was the messenger who carried, by +Pope’s direction, the books to Curll. When they were thus published and +avowed, as they had relation to recent facts, and persons either then +living or not yet forgotten, they may be supposed to have found readers; +but, as the facts were minute, and the characters being either private or +literary, were little known, or little regarded, they awaked no popular +kindness or resentment. The book never became much the subject of +conversation. Some read it as a contemporary history, and some perhaps +as a model of epistolary language; but those who read it did not talk of +it. Not much therefore was added by it to fame or envy, nor do I +remember that it produced either public praise or public censure. It +had, however, in some degree, the recommendation of novelty. Our +language had few letters, except those of statesmen. Howel, indeed, +about a century ago, published his “Letters,” which are commended by +Morhoff, and which alone, of his hundred volumes, continue his memory. +Loveday’s “Letters” were printed only once; those of Herbert and Suckling +are hardly known. Mrs. Phillips’s (Orinda’s) are equally neglected. And +those of Walsh seem written as exercises, and were never sent to any +living mistress or friend. Pope’s epistolary excellence had an open +field; he had no English rival, living or dead. + +Pope is seen in this collection as connected with the other contemporary +wits, and certainly suffers no disgrace in the comparison; but it must be +remembered that he had the power of favouring himself. He might have +originally had publication in his mind, and have written with care, or +have afterwards selected those which he had most happily conceived or +most diligently laboured; and I know not whether there does not appear +something more studied and artificial in his productions than the rest, +except one long letter by Bolingbroke, composed with all the skill and +industry of a professed author. It is indeed not easy to distinguish +affectation from habit; he that has once studiously formed a style, +rarely writes afterwards with complete ease. Pope may be said to write +always with his reputation in his head; Swift, perhaps, like a man that +remembered he was writing to Pope; but Arbuthnot, like one who lets +thoughts drop from his pen as they rise into his mind. Before these +“Letters” appeared he published the first part of what he persuaded +himself to think a system of Ethics, under the title of an “Essay on +Man,” which, if his letter to Swift (of September 14, 1723), be rightly +explained by the commentator, had been eight years under his +consideration, and of which he seems to have desired the success with +great solicitude. He had now many open, and doubtless many secret, +enemies. The “Dunces” were yet smarting from the war, and the +superiority which he publicly arrogated disposed the world to wish his +humiliation. All this he knew, and against all this he provided. His +own name, and that of his friend to whom the work is inscribed, were in +the first editions carefully suppressed; and the poem being of a new kind +was ascribed to one or another as favour determined or conjecture +wandered. It was given, says Warburton, to every man except him only who +could write it. Those who like only when they like the author, and who +are under the dominion of a name, condemned it, and those admired it who +are willing to scatter praise at random, which, while it is +unappropriated, excites no envy. Those friends of Pope that were trusted +with the secret went about lavishing honours on the new-born poet, and +hinting that Pope was never so much in danger from any former rival. To +those authors whom he had personally offended, and to those whose opinion +the world considered as decisive, and whom he suspected of envy or +malevolence, he sent his Essay as a present before publication, that they +might defeat their own enemity by praises which they could not afterwards +decently retract. With these precautions, in 1733, was published the +first part of the “Essay on Man.” There had been for some time a report +that Pope was busy upon a “System of Morality,” but this design was not +discovered in the new poem, which had a form and a title with which its +readers were unacquainted. Its reception was not uniform. Some thought +it a very imperfect piece, though not without good lines. While the +author was unknown, some, as will always happen, favoured him as an +adventurer, and some censured him as an intruder, but all thought him +above neglect. The sale increased, and editions were multiplied. The +subsequent editions of the first epistle exhibited two memorable +corrections. At first, the poet and his friend + + “Expatiate freely o’er this scene of man, + A mighty maze _of walks without a plan_;” + +for which he wrote afterwards, + + “A mighty maze, _but not without a plan_;” + +for if there was no plan it was in vain to describe or to trace the maze. + +The other alteration was of these lines:— + + “And spike of pride, _and in thy reason’s spite_, + One truth is clear, whatever is, is right:” + +but having afterwards discovered, or been shown, that the “truth” which +subsisted “in spite of reason” could not be very “clear,” he substituted + + “And spite of pride _in erring reason’s spite_.” + +To such oversights will the most vigorous mind be liable when it is +employed at once upon argument and poetry. + +The second and third epistles were published, and Pope was, I believe, +more and more suspected of writing them. At last, in 1734, he avowed the +fourth, and claimed the honour of a moral poet. In the conclusion it is +sufficiently acknowledged that the doctrine of the “Essay on Man” was +received from Bolingbroke, who is said to have ridiculed Pope, among +those who enjoyed his confidence, as having adopted and advanced +principles of which he did not perceive the consequence, and as blindly +propagating opinions contrary to his own. That those communications had +been consolidated into a scheme regularly drawn, and delivered to Pope, +from whom it returned only transformed from prose to verse, has been +reported, but hardly can be true. The essay plainly appears the fabric +of a poet; what Bolingbroke supplied could be only the first principles, +the order, illustration, and embellishments, must all be Pope’s. These +principles it is not my business to clear from obscurity, dogmatism, or +falsehood, but they were not immediately examined. Philosophy and poetry +have not often the same readers; and the essay abounded in splendid +amplifications and sparkling sentences, which were read and admired with +no great attention to their ultimate purpose. Its flowers caught the +eye, which did not see what the gay foliage concealed, and for a time +flourished in the sunshine of universal approbation. So little was any +evil tendency discovered, that, as innocence is unsuspicious, many read +it for a manual of piety. Its reputation soon invited a translator. It +was first turned into French prose, and afterwards by Resnel into verse. +Both translations fell into the hands of Crousaz, who first, when he had +the version in prose, wrote a general censure, and afterwards reprinted +Resnel’s version, with particular remarks upon every paragraph. + +Crousaz was a professor of Switzerland, eminent for his treatise of +logic, and his “Examen de Pyrrhonisme,” and, however little known or +regarded here, was no mean antagonist. His mind was one of those in +which philosophy and piety are happily united. He was accustomed to +argument and disquisition, and perhaps was grown too desirous of +detecting faults, but his intentions were always right, his opinions were +solid, and his religion pure. His incessant vigilance for the promotion +of piety disposed him to look with distrust upon all metaphysical systems +of theology, and all schemes of virtue and happiness purely rational; and +therefore it was not long before he was persuaded that the positions of +Pope, as they terminated for the most part in natural religion, were +intended to draw mankind away from revelation, and to represent the whole +course of things as a necessary concatenation of indissoluble fatality, +and it is undeniable that in many passages a religious eye may easily +discover expressions not very favourable to morals or to liberty. + +About this time Warburton began to make his appearance in the first ranks +of learning. He was a man of vigorous faculties, a mind fervid and +vehement, supplied by incessant and unlimited inquiry, with wonderful +extent and variety of knowledge, which yet had not oppressed his +imagination nor clouded his perspicacity. To every work he brought a +memory full fraught, together with a fancy fertile of original +combinations and at once exerted the powers of the scholar, the reasoner, +and the wit. But his knowledge was too multifarious to be always exact, +and his pursuits were too eager to be always cautions. His abilities +gave him a haughty confidence, which he disdained to conceal or mollify, +and his impatience of opposition disposed him to treat his adversaries +with such contemptuous superiority as made his readers commonly his +enemies, and excited against the advocate the wishes of some who favoured +the cause. He seems to have adopted the Roman Emperor’s determination, +_oderint dum metuant_; he used no allurements of gentle language, but +wished to compel rather than persuade. His style is copious without +selection, and forcible without neatness. He took the words that +presented themselves. His diction is coarse and impure, and his +sentences are unmeasured. He had in the early part of his life pleased +himself with the notice of inferior wits, and corresponded with the +enemies of Pope. A letter was produced, when he had perhaps himself +forgotten it, in which he tells Concanen, “Dryden, I observe, borrows for +want of leisure, and Pope for want of genius, Milton out of pride, and +Addison out of modesty.” And when Theobald published Shakespeare, in +opposition to Pope, the best notes were supplied by Warburton. But the +time was now come when Warburton was to change his opinion, and Pope was +to find a defender in him who had contributed so much to the exaltation +of his rival. + +The arrogance of Warburton excited against him every artifice of offence, +and therefore it may be supposed that his union with Pope was censured as +hypocritical inconstancy, but surely to think differently at different +times of poetical merit may be easily allowed. Such opinions are often +admitted, and dismissed without nice examination. Who is there that has +not found reason for changing his mind about questions of greater +importance? + +Warburton, whatever was his motive, undertook, without solicitation, to +rescue Pope from the talons of Crousaz, by freeing him from the +imputation of favouring fatality or rejecting revelation; and from month +to month continued a vindication of the “Essay on Man,” in the literary +journal of that time called the “Republic of Letters.” + +Pope, who probably began to doubt the tendency of his own work, was glad +that the positions, of which he perceived himself not to know the full +meaning, could by any mode of interpretation be made to mean well. How +much he was pleased with his gratuitous defender the following letter +evidently shows:— + + “April 11, 1739. + + “SIR,—I have just received from Mr. R. two more of your letters. It + is in the greatest hurry imaginable that I write this; but I cannot + help thanking you in particular for your third letter, which is so + extremely clear, short, and full, that I think Mr. Crousaz ought + never to have another answer, and deserved not so good an one. I can + only say, you do him too much honour, and me too much right, so odd + as the expression seems; for you have made my system as clear as I + ought to have done, and could not. It is indeed the same system as + mine, but illustrated with a ray of your own, as they say our natural + body is the same still when it is glorified. I am sure I like it + better than I did before, and so will every man else. I know I meant + just what you explain; but I did not explain my own meaning so well + as you. You understand me as well as I do myself; but you express me + better than I could express myself. Pray accept the sincerest + acknowledgments. I cannot but wish these letters were put together + in one book, and intend (with your leave) to procure a translation of + part at least, or of all of them, into French; but I shall not + proceed a step without your consent and opinion,” &c. + +By this fond and eager acceptance of an exculpatory comment Pope +testified that, whatever might be the seeming or real import of the +principles which he had received from Bolingbroke, he had not +intentionally attacked religion; and Bolingbroke, if he meant to make +him, without his own consent, an instrument of mischief, found him now +engaged, with his eyes open, on the side of truth. It is known that +Bolingbroke concealed from Pope his real opinions. He once discovered +them to Mr. Hooke, who related them again to Pope, and was told by him +that he must have mistaken the meaning of what he heard: and Bolingbroke, +when Pope’s uneasiness incited him to desire an explanation, declared +that Hooke had misunderstood him. + +Bolingbroke hated Warburton, who had drawn his pupil from him; and a +little before Pope’s death they had a dispute, from which they parted +with mutual aversion. From this time Pope lived in the closest intimacy +with his commentator, and amply rewarded his kindness and his zeal, for +he introduced him to Mr. Murray, by whose interest he became preacher at +Lincoln’s Inn, and to Mr. Allen, who gave him his niece and his estate, +and by consequence a bishopric. When he died, he left him the property +of his works, a legacy which may be reasonably estimated at four thousand +pounds. + +Pope’s fondness for the “Essay on Man” appeared by his desire of its +propagation. Dobson, who had gained reputation by his version of Prior’s +“Solomon,” was employed by him to translate it into Latin verse, and was +for that purpose some time at Twickenham; but he left his work, whatever +was the reason, unfinished; and, by Benson’s invitation, undertook the +longer task of “Paradise Lost.” Pope then desired his friend to find a +scholar who should turn his essay into Latin prose; but no such +performance has ever appeared. + +Pope lived at this time _among the great_, with that reception and +respect to which his works entitled him, and which he had not impaired by +any private misconduct or factious partiality. Though Bolingbroke was +his friend, Walpole was not his enemy, but treated him with so much +consideration as, at his request, to solicit and obtain from the French +Minister an abbey for Mr. Southcot, whom he considered himself as obliged +to reward, by his exertion of his interest, for the benefit which he had +received from his attendance in a long illness. It was said, that when +the Court was at Richmond, Queen Caroline had declared her intention to +visit him. This may have been only a careless effusion, thought on no +more. The report of such notice, however, was soon in many mouths; and, +if I do not forget or misapprehend Savage’s account, Pope, pretending to +decline what was not yet offered, left his house for a time, not, I +suppose, for any other reason than lest he should be thought to stay at +home in expectation of an honour which would not be conferred. He was +therefore angry at Swift, who represents him as “refusing the visits of a +queen,” because he knew that what had never been offered had never been +refused. + +Beside the general system of morality, supposed to be contained in the +“Essay on Man,” it was his intention to write distinct poems upon the +different duties or conditions of life, one of which is the “Epistle to +Lord Bathurst” (1733) on the “Use of Riches,” a piece on which he +declared great labour to have been bestowed. Into this poem some hints +are historically thrown, and some known characters are introduced, with +others of which it is difficult to say how far they are real or +fictitious: but the praise of Kryle, the Man of Ross, deserves particular +examination, who, after a long and pompous enumeration of his public +works and private charities, is said to have diffused all those blessings +from five hundred a year. Wonders are willingly told and willingly +heard. The truth is, that Kyrle was a man of known integrity and active +benevolence, by whose solicitation the wealthy were persuaded to pay +contributions to his charitable schemes. This influence he obtained by +an example of liberality exerted to the utmost extent of his power, and +was thus enabled to give more than he had. This account Mr. Victor +received from the minister of the place, and I have preserved it, that +the praise of a good man, being made more credible, may be more solid. +Narrations of romantic and impracticable virtue will be read with wonder, +but that which is unattainable is recommended in vain; that good may be +endeavoured it must be shown to be possible. This is the only piece in +which the author has given a hint of his religion, by ridiculing the +ceremony of burning the Pope, and by mentioning with some indignation the +inscription on the Monument. + +When this poem was first published, the dialogue having no letters of +direction was perplexed and obscure. Pope seems to have written with no +very distinct idea, for he calls that an “Epistle to Bathurst,” in which +Bathurst is introduced as speaking. He afterwards (1734) inscribed to +Lord Cobham his “Characters of Men,” written with close attention to the +operations of the mind and modifications of life. In this poem he has +endeavoured to establish and exemplify his favourite theory of the +_ruling passion_, by which he means an original direction of desire to +some particular object, an innate affection which gives all action a +determinate and invariable tendency, and operates upon the whole system +of life, either openly, cut more secretly by the intervention of some +accidental or subordinate propension. Of any passion, thus innate and +irresistible, the existence may reasonably be doubted. Human characters +are by no means constant; men change by change of place, of fortune, of +acquaintance. He who is at one time a lover of pleasure, is at another a +lover of money. Those, indeed, who attain any excellence commonly spend +life in one pursuit, for excellence is not often gained upon easier +terms. But to the particular species of excellence men are directed, not +by an ascendant planet or predominating humour, but by the first book +which they read, some early conversation which they heard, or some +accident which excited ardour and emulation. It must at least be allowed +that this ruling passion, antecedent to reason and observation, must have +an object independent on human contrivance, for there can be no natural +desire of artificial good. No man, therefore, can be born, in the strict +acceptation, a lover of money, for he may be born where money does not +exist; nor can he be born in a moral sense a lover of his country, for +society politically regulated is a state contradistinguished from a state +of nature, and any attention to that coalition of interests which makes +the happiness of a country is possible only to those whom inquiry and +reflection have enabled to comprehend it. This doctrine is in itself +pernicious as well as false; its tendency is to produce the belief of a +kind of moral predestination or over-ruling principle which cannot be +resisted. He that admits it is prepared to comply with every desire that +caprice or opportunity shall excite, and to flatter himself that he +submits only to the lawful dominion of nature in obeying the resistless +authority of his ruling passion. + +Pope has formed his theory with so little skill that in the examples by +which he illustrates and confirms it he has confounded passions, +appetites, and habits. To the “Characters of Men” he added soon after, +in an epistle supposed to have been addressed to Martha Blount, but which +the last edition has taken from her, the “Characters of Women.” This +poem, which was laboured with great diligence and in the author’s opinion +with great success, was neglected at its first publication, as the +commentator supposes, because the public was informed by an advertisement +that it contained no character drawn from the life, an assertion which +Pope probably did not expect nor wished to have been believed, and which +he soon gave his readers sufficient reason to distrust, by telling them +in a note that the work was imperfect because part of his subject was +vice too high to be yet exposed. The time, however, soon came in which +it was safe to display the Duchess of Marlborough under the name of +Atossa, and her character was inserted with no great honour to the +writer’s gratitude. + +He published from time to time (between 1730 and 1740) imitations of +different poems of Horace, generally with his name, and once, as was +suspected, without it. What he was upon moral principles ashamed to own +he ought to have suppressed. Of these pieces it is useless to settle the +dates, as they had seldom much relation to the times, and perhaps had +been long in his hands. This mode of imitation, in which the ancients +are familiarised by adapting their sentiments to modern topics, by making +Horace say of Shakespeare what he originally said of Ennius, and +accommodating his satires on Pantolabus and Nomentanus to the flatterers +and prodigals of our own time, was first practised in the reign of +Charles the Second, by Oldham and Rochester, at least I remember no +instances more ancient. It is a kind of middle composition between +translation and original design, which pleases when the thoughts are +unexpectedly applicable, and the parallels lucky. It seems to have been +Pope’s favourite amusement, for he has carried it farther than any former +poet. He published likewise a revival, in smoother numbers, of Dr. +Donne’s “Satires,” which was recommended to him by the Duke of Shrewsbury +and the Earl of Oxford. They made no great impression on the public. +Pope seems to have known their imbecility and therefore suppressed them +while he was yet contending to rise in reputation, but ventured them when +he thought their deficiencies more likely to be imputed to Donne than to +himself. + +The “Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot,” which seems to be derived in its first +design from Boileau’s Address _à son Esprit_, was published in January, +1735, about a month before the death of him to whom it is inscribed. It +is to be regretted that either honour or pleasure should have been missed +by Arbuthnot, a man estimable for his learning, amiable for his life, and +venerable for his piety. Arbuthnot was a man of great comprehension, +skilful in his profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with +ancient literature, and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright +and active imagination; a scholar with great brilliance of wit, a wit +who, in the crowd of life, retained and discovered a noble ardour of +religious zeal. In this poem Pope seems to reckon with the public. He +vindicates himself from censures, and with dignity rather than arrogance +enforces his own claims to kindness and respect. Into this poem are +interwoven several paragraphs which had been before printed, as a +fragment, and among them the satirical lines upon Addison, of which the +last couplet has been twice corrected. It was at first— + + “Who would not smile if such a man there be? + Who would not laugh if Addison were he?” + +Then— + + “Who would not grieve if such a man there be? + Who would not laugh if Addison were he?” + +At last it is— + + “Who but must laugh if such a man there he? + Who would not weep if Atticus were he?” + +He was at this time at open war with Lord Hervey, who had distinguished +himself as a steady adherent to the ministry, and being offended with a +contemptuous answer to one of his pamphlets, had summoned Pulteney to a +duel. Whether he or Pope made the first attack perhaps cannot now be +easily known. He had written an invective against Pope, whom he calls, +“Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure;” and hints that his father +was a hatter. To this Pope wrote a reply in verse and prose. The verses +are in this poem, and the prose, though it was never sent, is printed +among his letters; but to a cool reader of the present time exhibits +nothing but tedious malignity. + +His last “Satires” of the general kind, were two Dialogues, named, from +the year in which they were published, “Seventeen hundred and +thirty-eight.” In these poems many are praised and many reproached. +Pope was then entangled in the opposition, a follower of the Prince of +Wales, who dined at his house, and the friend of many who obstructed and +censured the conduct of the ministers. His political partiality was too +plainly shown; he forgot the prudence with which he passed, in his +earlier years, uninjured and unoffending, through much more violent +conflicts of faction. In the first Dialogue, having an opportunity of +praising Allen of Bath, he asked his leave to mention him as a man not +illustrious by any merit of his ancestors, and called him in his verses +“low-born Allen.” Men are seldom satisfied with praise introduced or +followed by any mention of defect. Allen seems not to have taken any +pleasure in his epithet, which was afterwards softened into “humble +Allen.” In the second Dialogue he took some liberty with one of the +Foxes among others; which Fox in a reply to Lyttelton, took an +opportunity of repaying, by reproaching him with the friendship of a +lampooner, who scattered his ink without fear or decency, and against +whom he hoped the resentment of the Legislature would quickly be +discharged. + +About this time Paul Whitehead, a small poet, was summoned before the +Lords for a poem called “Manners,” together with Dodsley, his publisher. +Whitehead, who hung loose upon society, skulked and escaped, but +Dodsley’s shop and family made his appearance necessary. He was, +however, soon dismissed, and the whole process was probably intended +rather to intimidate Pope than to punish Whitehead. + +Pope never afterwards attempted to join the patriot with the poet, nor +drew his pen upon statesmen. That he desisted from his attempts of +reformation is imputed by his commentator to his despair of prevailing +over the corruption of the time. He was not likely to have been ever of +opinion that the dread of his satire would countervail the love of power +or of money; he pleased himself with being important and formidable, and +gratified sometimes his pride, and sometimes his resentment, till at last +he began to think he should be more safe if he were less busy. + +The “Memoirs of Scriblerus,” published about this time, extend only to +the first book of a work projected in concert by Pope, Swift, and +Arbuthnot, who used to meet on the time of Queen Anne, and denominated +themselves the “Scriblerus Club.” Their purpose was to censure the +abuses of learning by a fictitious life of an infatuated scholar. They +were dispersed; the design was never completed, and Warburton laments its +miscarriage as an event very disastrous to polite letters. If the whole +may be estimated by this specimen, which seems to be the production of +Arbuthnot, with a few touches perhaps by Pope, the want of more will not +be much lamented; for the follies which the writer ridicules are so +little practised that they are not known; nor can the satire be +understood but by the learned. He raises phantoms of absurdity, and then +drives them away. He cures diseases that were never felt. For this +reason this joint production of three great writers has never obtained +any notice from mankind. It has been little read, or when read has been +forgotten, as no man could be wiser, better, or merrier, by remembering +it. The design cannot boast of much originality; for, besides its +general resemblance to “Don Quixote,” there will be found in it +particular imitations of the “History of Mr. Ouffle.” + +Swift carried so much of it into Ireland as supplied him with hints for +his “Travels;” and with those the world might have been contented, though +the rest had been suppressed. + +Pope had sought for images and sentiments in a region not known to have +been explored by many other of the English writers. He had consulted the +modern writers of Latin poetry, a class of authors whom Boileau +endeavoured to bring into contempt, and who are too generally neglected. +Pope, however, was not ashamed of their acquaintance, nor ungrateful for +the advantages which he might have derived from it. A small selection +from the Italians, who wrote in Latin, had been published at London, +about the latter end of the last century, by a man who concealed his +name, but whom his preface shows to have been qualified for his +undertaking. This collection Pope amplified by more than half, and +(1740) published it in two volumes, but injuriously omitted his +predecessor’s preface. To these books, which had nothing but the mere +text, no regard was paid; the authors were still neglected, and the +editor was neither praised nor censured. He did not sink into idleness; +he had planned a work, which he considered as subsequent to his “Essay on +Man,” of which he has given this account to Dr. Swift:— + + “March 25, 1736. + + “If ever I write any more Epistles in verse, one of them shall be + addressed to you. I have long concerted it and begun it; but I would + make what bears your name as finished as my last work ought to be, + that is to say, more finished than any of the rest. The subject is + large, and will divide into four Epistles, which naturally follow the + ‘Essay on Man,’ viz: 1. Of the Extent and Limits of Human Reason and + Science. 2. A view of the useful and therefore attainable, and of + the unuseful and therefore unattainable Arts. 3. Of the Nature, + Ends, Application, and Use, of different Capacities. 4. Of the Use + of Learning, of the Science, of the World, and of Wit. It will + conclude with a satire against the misapplication of all these, + exemplified by Pictures, Characters, and Examples.” + +This work in its full extent—being now afflicted with an asthma, and +finding the powers of life gradually declining—he had no longer courage +to undertake; but, from the materials which he had provided, he added, at +Warburton’s request, another book to the “Dunciad,” of which the design +is to ridicule such studies as are either hopeless or useless, as either +pursue what is unattainable, or what, if it be attained, is of no use. +When this book was printed (1742) the laurel had been for some time upon +the head of Cibber, a man whom it cannot be supposed that Pope could +regard with much kindness or esteem, though in one of the imitations of +Horace he has liberally enough praised the “Careless Husband.” In the +“Dunciad,” among other worthless scribblers, he had mentioned Cibber, +who, in his “Apology,” complains of the great Poet’s unkindness as more +injurious, “because,” says he, “I never have offended him.” + +It might have been expected that Pope should have been in some degree +mollified by this submissive gentleness, but no such consequence +appeared. Though he condescended to commend Cibber once, he mentioned +him afterwards contemptuously in one of his satires, and again in his +“Epistle to Arbuthnot,” and in the fourth book of the “Dunciad” attacked +him with acrimony, to which the provocation is not easily discoverable. +Perhaps he imagined that, in ridiculing the Laureate, he satirised those +by whom the laurel had been given, and gratified that ambitious petulance +with which he affected to insult the great. The severity of this satire +left Cibber no longer any patience. He had confidence enough in his own +powers to believe that he could disturb the quiet of his adversary, and +doubtless did not want instigators, who, without any care about the +victory, desired to amuse themselves by looking on the contest. He +therefore gave the town a pamphlet, in which he declares his resolution +from that time never to bear another blow without returning it, and to +tire out his adversary by perseverance if he cannot conquer him by +strength. + +The incessant and unappeasable malignity of Pope he imputes to a very +distant cause. After the _Three Hours After Marriage_ had been driven +off the stage, by the offence which the mummy and crocodile gave the +audience, while the exploded scene was yet fresh in memory, it happened +that Cibber played Bayes in the _Rehearsal_; and, as it had been usual to +enliven the part by the mention of any recent theatrical transactions, he +said, that he once thought to have introduced his lovers disguised in a +mummy and a crocodile. “This,” says he, “was received with loud claps, +which indicated contempt for the play.” Pope, who was behind the scenes, +meeting him as he left the stage, attacked him, as he says, with all the +virulence of a “wit out of his senses;” to which he replied, “that he +would take no other notice of what was said by so particular a man, than +to declare, that as often as he played that part he would repeat the same +provocation.” He shows his opinion to be that Pope was one of the +authors of the play which he so zealously defended, and adds an idle +story of Pope’s behaviour at a tavern. + +The pamphlet was written with little power of thought or language, and, +if suffered to remain without notice, would have been very soon +forgotten. Pope had now been enough acquainted with human life to know, +if his passion had not been too powerful for his understanding, that, +from a contention like his with Cibber, the world seeks nothing but +diversion, which is given at the expense of the higher character. When +Cibber lampooned Pope, curiosity was excited. What Pope would say of +Cibber nobody inquired, but in hope that Pope’s asperity might betray his +pain and lessen his dignity. He should therefore have suffered the +pamphlet to flutter and die, without confessing that it stung him. The +dishonour of being shown as Cibber’s antagonist could never be +compensated by the victory. Cibber had nothing to lose. When Pope had +exhausted all his malignity upon him, he would rise in the esteem both of +his friends and his enemies. Silence only could have made him +despicable; the blow which did not appear to be felt would have been +struck in vain. But Pope’s irascibility prevailed, and he resolved to +tell the whole English world that he was at war with Cibber; and, to show +that he thought him to common adversary, he prepared no common vengeance. +He published a new edition of the “Dunciad,” in which he degraded +Theobald from his painful pre-eminence, and enthroned Cibber in his +stead. Unhappily the two heroes were of opposite characters, and Pope +was unwilling to lose what he had already written. He has therefore +depraved his poem by giving to Cibber the old books, the old pedantry, +and the sluggish pertinacity of Theobald. + +Pope was ignorant enough of his own interest to make another change, and +introduced Osborne contending for a prize among the booksellers. Osborne +was a man entirely destitute of shame, without sense of any disgrace but +that of poverty. He told me, when he was doing that which raised Pope’s +resentment, that he should be put into the “Dunciad;” but he had the fate +of Cassandra. I gave no credit to his prediction, till in time I saw it +accomplished. The shafts of satire were directed equally in vain against +Cibber and Osborne; being repelled by the impenetrable impudence of one, +and deadened by the impassive dulness of the other. Pope confessed his +own pain by his anger; but he gave no pain to those who had provoked him. +He was able to hurt none but himself; by transferring the same ridicule +from one to another, he reduced himself to the insignificance of his own +magpie, who from his cage calls cuckold at a venture. + +Cibber, according to his engagement, repaid the “Dunciad” with another +pamphlet, which, Pope said, “would be as good as a dose of hartshorn to +him;” but his tongue and his heart were at variance. I have heard Mr. +Richardson relate that he attended his father the painter on a visit, +when one of Cibber’s pamphlets came into the hands of Pope, who said, +“These things are my diversion.” They sat by him while he perused it, +and saw his features writhing with anguish: and young Richardson said to +his father, when they returned, that he hoped to be preserved from such +diversion as had been that day the lot of Pope. From this time, finding +his diseases more oppressive, and his vital powers gradually declining, +he no longer strained his faculties with any original composition, nor +proposed any other employment for his remaining life than the revisal and +correction of his former works, in which he received advice and +assistance from Warburton, whom he appears to have trusted and honoured +in the highest degree. He laid aside his Epic Poem, perhaps without much +loss to mankind; for his hero was Brutus the Trojan, who, according to a +ridiculous fiction, established a colony in Britain. The subject, +therefore, was of the fabulous age; the actors were a race upon whom +imagination has been exhausted, and attention wearied, and to whom the +mind will not easily be recalled, when it is invited in blank verse, +which Pope had adopted with great imprudence, and, I think, without due +consideration of the nature of our language. The sketch is, at least in +part, preserved by Ruffhead, by which it appears that Pope was +thoughtless enough to model the names of his heroes with terminations not +consistent with the time or country in which he places them. He lingered +through the next year, but perceived himself, as he expresses it, “going +down the hill.” He had for at least five years been afflicted with an +asthma, and other disorders, which his physicians were unable to relieve. +Towards the end of his life he consulted Dr. Thomson, a man who had, by +large promises, and free censures of the common practice of physic, +forced himself up into sudden reputation. Thomson declared his distemper +to be a dropsy, and evacuated part of the water by tincture of jalap, but +confessed that his belly did not subside. Thomson had many enemies, and +Pope was persuaded to dismiss him. + +While he was yet capable of amusement and conversation, as he was one day +sitting in the air with Lord Bolingbroke and Lord Marchmont, he saw his +favourite Martha Blount at the bottom of the terrace, and asked Lord +Bolingbroke to go and hand her up. Bolingbroke, not liking his errand, +crossed his legs and sat still; but Lord Marchmont, who was younger and +less captious, waited on the lady, who, when he came to her, asked, +“What, is he not dead yet?” She is said to have neglected him with +shameful unkindness, in the latter time of his decay; yet, of the little +which he had to leave she had a very great part. Their acquaintance +began early; the life of each was pictured on the other’s mind; their +conversation therefore was endearing, for when they met, there was an +immediate coalition of congenial notions. Perhaps he considered her +unwillingness to approach the chamber of sickness as female weakness, or +human frailty; perhaps he was conscious to himself of peevishness and +impatience, or, though he was offended by her inattention, might yet +consider her merit as overbalancing her fault; and if he had suffered his +heart to be alienated from her, he could have found nothing that might +fill her place; he could have only shrunk within himself. It was too +late to transfer his confidence or fondness. + +In May, 1744, his death was approaching. On the 6th he was all day +delirious, which he mentioned for days afterwards as a sufficient +humiliation of the vanity of man; he afterwards complained of seeing +things as through a curtain, and in false colours, and one day, its the +presence of Dodsley, asked what arm it was that came from the wall. He +said that his greatest inconvenience was inability to think. Bolingbroke +sometimes wept over him in this state of helpless decay; and being told +by Spence, that Pope, at the intermission of his deliriousness, was +always saying something kind either of his present or absent friends, and +that his humanity seemed to have survived his understanding, answered, +“It has so.” And added, “I never in my life knew a man that had so +tender a heart for his particular friends, or more general friendship for +mankind.” At another time he said, “I have known Pope these thirty +years, and value myself more in his friendship than—” His grief then +suppressed his voice. + +Pope expressed undoubting confidence of a future state. Being asked by +his friend Mr. Hooke, a papist, whether he would not die like his father +and mother, and whether a priest should not be called, he answered, “I do +not think it essential, but it will be very right; and I thank you for +putting me in mind of it.” In the morning, after the priest had given +him the last sacraments, he said “There is nothing that is meritorious +but virtue and friendship; and indeed friendship itself is only a part of +virtue.” He died in the evening of the 30th day of May 1744, so +placidly, that the attendants did not discern the exact time of his +expiration. He was buried at Twickenham, near his father and mother, +where a monument has been erected to him by his commentator, the Bishop +of Gloucester. + +He left the care of his papers to his executors; first to Lord +Bolingbroke, and, if he should not be living, to the Earl of Marchmont, +undoubtedly expecting them to be proud of the trust, and eager to extend +his fame. But let no man dream of influence beyond his life. After a +decent time Dodsley, the bookseller, went to solicit preference as the +publisher, and was told that the parcel had not been yet inspected; and, +whatever was the reason, the world has been disappointed of what was +“reserved for the next age.” He lost, indeed, the favour of Bolingbroke +by a kind of posthumous offence. The political pamphlet called “The +Patriot King” had been put into his hands that he might procure the +impression of a very few copies, to be distributed, according to the +author’s direction, among his friends, and Pope assured him that no more +had been printed than were allowed; but, soon after his death, the +printer brought and resigned a complete edition of fifteen hundred +copies, which Pope had ordered him to print and retain in secret. He +kept, as was observed, his engagement to Pope better than Pope had kept +it to his friend; and nothing was known of the transaction till, upon the +death of his employer, he thought himself obliged to deliver the books to +the right owner, who, with great indignation, made a fire in his yard, +and delivered the whole impression to the flames. + +Hitherto nothing had been done which was not naturally dictated by +resentment of violated faith; resentment more acrimonious, as the +violator had been more loved or more trusted. But here the anger might +have stopped; the injury was private, and there was little danger from +the example. Bolingbroke, however, was not yet satisfied. His thirst of +vengeance excited him to blast the memory of the man over whom he had +wept in his last struggles; and he employed Mallet, another friend of +Pope, to tell the tale to the public, with all its aggravations. +Warburton, whose heart was warm with his legacy and tender by the recent +separation, thought it proper for him to interpose, and undertook, not +indeed to vindicate the action, for breach of trust has always something +criminal, but to extenuate it by an apology. Having advanced what cannot +be denied, that moral obliquity is made more or less excusable by the +motives that produce it, he inquires what evil purpose could have induced +Pope to break his promise. He could not delight his vanity by usurping +the work, which, though not sold in shops, had been shown to a number +more than sufficient to preserve the author’s claim; he could not gratify +his avarice, for he could not sell his plunder till Bolingbroke was dead; +and even then, if the copy was left to another, his fraud would be +defeated, and if left to himself would be useless. + +Warburton therefore supposes, with great appearance of reason, that the +irregularity of his conduct proceeded wholly from his zeal for +Bolingbroke, who might perhaps have destroyed the pamphlet, which Pope +thought it his duty to preserve, even without its author’s approbation. +To this apology an answer was written in “A letter to the most impudent +man living.” He brought some reproach upon his own memory by the +petulant and contemptuous mention made in his will of Mr. Allen and an +affected repayment of his benefactions. Mrs. Blount, as the known friend +and favourite of Pope, had been invited to the house of Allen, where she +comported herself with such indecent arrogance that she parted from Mrs. +Allen in a state of irreconcilable dislike, and the door was for ever +barred against her. This exclusion she resented with so much bitterness +as to refuse any legacy from Pope unless he left the world with a +disavowal of obligation to Allen. Having been long under her dominion, +now tottering in the decline of life, and unable to resist the violence +of her temper, or perhaps, with the prejudice of a lover, persuaded that +she had suffered improper treatment, he complied with her demand, and +polluted his will with female resentment. Allen accepted the legacy, +which he gave to the hospital at Bath, observing that Pope was always a +bad accountant, and that if to £150 he had put a cipher more he had come +nearer to the truth. + +The person of Pope is well known not to have been formed by the nicest +model. He has, in his account of the “Little Club,” compared himself to +a spider, and by another is described as protuberant behind and before. +He is said to have been beautiful in his infancy, but he was of a +constitution originally feeble and weak; and, as bodies of a tender frame +are easily distorted, his deformity was probably in part the effect of +his application. His stature was so low, that to bring him to a level +with common tables, it was necessary to raise his seat. But his face was +not displeasing, and his eyes were animated and vivid. By natural +deformity, or accidental distortion, his vital functions were so much +disordered, that his life was “a long disease.” His most frequent +assailant was the headache, which he used to relieve by inhaling the +steam of coffee, which he very frequently required. + +Most of what can be told concerning his petty peculiarities was +communicated by a female domestic of the Earl of Oxford, who knew him +perhaps after the middle of life. He was then so weak as to stand in +perpetual need of female attendance; extremely sensible of cold, so that +he wore a kind of fur doublet, under a shirt of a very coarse warm linen +with fine sleeves. When he rose, he was invested in bodice made of stiff +canvas, being scarcely able to hold himself erect till they were laced, +and he then put on a flannel waistcoat. One side was contracted. His +legs were so slender, that he enlarged their bulk with three pairs of +stockings, which were drawn on and off by the maid, for he was not able +to dress or undress himself, and neither went to bed nor rose without +help. His weakness made it very difficult for him to be clean. His hair +had fallen almost all away, and he used to dine sometimes with Lord +Oxford, privately, in a velvet cap. His dress of ceremony was black, +with a tie-wig, and a little sword. The indulgence and accommodation +which his sickness required, had taught him all the unpleasing and +unsocial qualities of a valetudinary man. He expected that everything +should give way to his ease or humour, as a child, whose parents will not +hear her cry, has an unresisted dominion in the nursery. + + “C’est que l’enfant toujours est homme, + C’est que l’homme est toujours enfant.” + +When he wanted to sleep he “nodded in company,” and once slumbered at his +own table while the Prince of Wales was talking of poetry. + +The reputation which his friendship gave procured him many invitations, +but he was a very troublesome inmate. He brought no servant, and had so +many wants, that a numerous attendance was scarcely able to supply them. +Wherever he was, he left no room for another, because he exacted the +attention, and employed the activity of the whole family. His errands +were so frequent and frivolous, that the footmen in time avoided and +neglected him, and the Earl of Oxford discharged some of his servants for +their resolute refusal of his messages. The maids, when they had +neglected their business, alleged that they had been employed by Mr. +Pope. One of his constant demands was of coffee in the night, and to the +woman that waited on him in his chamber he was very burthensome. But he +was careful to recompense her want of sleep, and Lord Oxford’s servant +declared, that in the house where her business was to answer his call, +she would not ask for wages. He had another fault, easily incident to +those who, suffering much pain, think themselves entitled to what +pleasures they can snatch. He was too indulgent to his appetite: he +loved meat highly seasoned and of strong taste; and, at the intervals of +the table, amused himself with biscuits and dry conserves. If he sat +down to a variety of dishes, he would oppress his stomach with repletion; +and though he seemed angry when a dram was offered him, did not forbear +to drink it. His friends, who knew the avenues to his heart, pampered +him with presents of luxury, which he did not suffer to stand neglected. +The death of great men is not always proportioned to the lustre of their +lives. Hannibal, says Juvenal, did not perish by the javelin or the +sword, the slaughters of Cannæ were revenged by a ring. The death of +Pope was imputed by some of his friends to a silver saucepan, in which it +was his delight to eat potted lampreys. That he loved too well to eat is +certain; but that his sensuality shortened his life will not be hastily +concluded, when it is remembered that a conformation so irregular lasted +six-and-fifty years, notwithstanding such pertinacious diligence of study +and meditation. In all his intercourse with mankind he had great delight +in artifice, and endeavoured to attain all his purposes by indirect and +unsuspected methods. “He hardly drank tea without a stratagem.” If at +the house of friends he wanted any accommodation, he was not willing to +ask for it in plain terms, but would mention it remotely as something +convenient; though when it was procured, he soon made it appear for whose +sake it had been recommended. Thus he teased Lord Orrery till he +obtained a screen. He practised his arts on such small occasions, that +Lady Bolingbroke used to say, in a French phrase, that “he played the +politician about cabbages and turnips.” His unjustifiable impression of +the “Patriot King,” as it can be attributed to no particular motive, must +have proceeded from his general habit of secrecy and cunning; he caught +an opportunity of a sly trick, and pleased himself with the thought of +outwitting Bolingbroke. In familiar or convivial conversation, it does +not appear that he excelled. He may be said to have resembled Dryden, as +being not one that was distinguished by vivacity in company. It is +remarkable that, so near his time, so much should be known of what he has +written, and so little of what he has said: traditional memory retains no +sallies of raillery, nor sentences of observation: nothing either pointed +or solid, either wise or merry. One apophthegm only stands upon record. +When an objection, raised against his inscription for Shakespeare, was +defended by the authority of Patrick, he replied, _horresco referens_, +that he “would allow the publisher of a dictionary to know the meaning of +a single word, but not of two words put together.” + +He was fretful and easily displeased, and allowed himself to be +capriciously resentful. He would sometimes leave Lord Oxford silently, +no one could tell why, and was to be courted back by more letters and +messages than the footmen were willing to carry. The table was indeed +infested by Lady Mary Wortley, who was the friend of Lady Oxford, and +who, knowing his peevishness, could by no entreaties be restrained from +contradicting him, till their disputes were sharpened to such asperity, +that one or the other quitted the house. He sometimes condescended to be +jocular with servants or inferiors; but by no merriment, either of others +or his own, was he ever seen excited to laughter. + +Of his domestic character, frugality was a part eminently remarkable. +Having determined not to be dependent, he determined not to be in want, +and therefore wisely and magnanimously rejected all temptations to +expense unsuitable to his fortune. This general care must be universally +approved; but it sometimes appeared in petty artifices of parsimony, such +as the practice of writing his compositions on the back of letters, as +may be seen in the remaining copy of the “Iliad,” by which perhaps in +five years five shillings were saved; or in a niggardly reception of his +friends, and scantiness of entertainment, as, when he had two guests in +his house, he would set at supper a single pint upon the table; and +having himself taken two small glasses, would retire, and say, +“Gentlemen. I leave you to your wine.” Yet he tells his friends that +“he has a heart for all, a house for all, and whatever they may think, a +fortune for all.” He sometimes, however, made a splendid dinner, and is +said to have wanted no part of the skill or elegance which such +performances require. That this magnificence should be often displayed, +that obstinate prudence with which he conducted his affairs would not +permit; for his revenue, certain and casual, amounted only to about eight +hundred pounds a year, of which, however, he declares himself able to +assign one hundred to charity. Of this fortune, which, as it arose from +public approbation, was very honourably obtained, his imagination seems +to have been too full: it would be hard to find a man so well entitled to +notice by his wit, that ever delighted so much in talking of his money. +In his Letters and in his poems, his garden and his grotto, his quincunx +and his vines, or some hints of his opulence, are always to be found. +The great topic of his ridicule is poverty; the crimes with which he +reproaches his antagonists are their debts, their habitation in the Mint, +and their want of a dinner. He seems to be of an opinion not very +uncommon in the world, that to want money is to want everything. Next to +the pleasure of contemplating his possessions, seems to be that of +enumerating the men of high rank with whom he was acquainted, and whose +notice he loudly proclaims not to have been obtained by any practices of +meanness or servility; a boast which was never denied to be true, and to +which very few poets have ever aspired. Pope never set genius to sale; +he never flattered those whom he did not love, nor praised those whom he +did not esteem. Savage, however, remarked that he began a little to +relax his dignity when he wrote a distich for “his Highness’s dog.” + +His admiration of the great seems to have increased in the advance of +life. He passed over peers and statesmen to inscribe his “Iliad” to +Congreve, with a magnanimity of which the praise had been complete, had +his friend’s virtue been equal to his wit. Why he was chosen for so +great an honour, it is not now possible to know; there is no trace in +literary history of any particular intimacy between them. The name of +Congreve appears in the Letters among those of his other friends, but +without any observable distinction or consequence. To his latter works, +however, he took care to annex names dignified with titles, but was not +very happy in his choice; for, except Lord Bathurst, none of his noble +friends were such as that a good man would wish to have his intimacy with +them known to posterity; he can derive little honour from the notice of +Cobham, Burlington, or Bolingbroke. + +Of his social qualities, if an estimate be made from his Letters, an +opinion too favourable cannot easily be formed; they exhibit a perpetual +and unclouded effulgence of general benevolence, and particular fondness. +There is nothing but liberality, gratitude, constancy, and tenderness. +It has been so long said as to be commonly believed, that the true +characters of men may be found in their letters, and that he who writes +to his friend lays his heart open before him. But the truth is that such +were the simple friendships of the Golden Age, and are now the +friendships only of children. Very few can boast of hearts which they +dare lay open to themselves, and of which, by whatever accident exposed, +they do not shun a distinct and continued view; and, certainly, who we +hide from ourselves we do not show to our friend. There is, indeed, no +transaction which offers strange temptations to fallacy and +sophistication than epistolary intercourse. In the eagerness of +conversation the first emotions of the mind often burst out before they +are considered; in the tumult of business, interest and passion have +their genuine effect; but a friendly letter is a calm and deliberate +performance in the cool of leisure, in the stillness of solitude, and +surely no man sits down to depreciate by design his own character. + +Friendship has no tendency to secure veracity; for by whom can a man so +much wish to be thought better than he is, as by him whose kindness he +desires to gain or keep? Even in writing to the world there is less +constraint; the author is not confronted with his reader, and takes his +chance of approbation among the different dispositions of mankind; but a +letter is addressed to a single mind, of which the prejudices and +partialities are known; and must therefore please, if not by favouring +them, by forbearing to oppose them. To charge those favourable +representations, which men give of their own minds, with the guilt of +hypocritical falsehood, would show more severity than knowledge. The +writer commonly believes himself. Almost every man’s thoughts, while +they are general, are right; and most hearts are pure while temptation is +away. It is easy to awaken generous sentiments in privacy; to despise +death when there is no danger; to glow with benevolence when there is +nothing to be given. While such ideas are formed they are felt; and +self-love does not suspect the gleam of virtue to be the meteor of fancy. + +If the Letters of Pope are considered merely as compositions, they seem +to be premeditated and artificial. It is one thing to write because +there is something which the mind wishes to discharge, and another to +solicit the imagination because ceremony or vanity requires something to +be written. Pope confesses his early Letters to be vitiated with +_affectation and ambition_: to know whether he disentangled himself from +these perverters of epistolary integrity, his book and his life must be +set in comparison. One of his favourite topics is contempt of his own +poetry. For this, if it had been real, he would deserve no commendation; +and in this he was certainly not sincere, for his high value of himself +was sufficiently observed; and of what could he be proud but of his +poetry? He writes, he says, when “he has just nothing else to do;” yet +Swift complains that he was never at leisure for conversation, because he +“had always some poetical scheme in his head.” It was punctually +required that his writing-box should be set upon his bed before he rose; +and Lord Oxford’s domestic related that, in the dreadful winter of Forty, +she was called from her bed by him four times in one night, to supply him +with paper, lest he should lose a thought. He pretends insensibility to +censure and criticism, though it was observed by all who knew him that +every pamphlet disturbed his quiet, and that his extreme irritability +laid him open to perpetual vexation; but he wished to despise his +critics, and therefore hoped that he did despise them. As he happened to +live in two reigns when the court paid little attention to poetry, he +nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings, and proclaims that “he +never sees courts.” Yet a little regard shown him by the Prince of Wales +melted his obduracy; and he had not much to say when he was asked by his +Royal Highness, “How he could love a prince while he disliked kings?” + +He very frequently professes contempt of the world, and represents +himself as looking on mankind, sometimes with gay indifference, as on +emmets of a hillock, below his serious attention; and sometimes with +gloomy indignation, as on monsters more worthy of hatred than pity. +These were dispositions apparently counterfeited. How could he despise +those whom he lived by pleasing, and on whose approbation his esteem of +himself was superstructed? Why should he hate those to whose favour he +owed his honour and his ease? Of things that terminate in human life, +the world is the proper judge: to despise its sentence, if it were +possible, is not just; and if it were just, is not possible. Pope was +far enough from this unreasonable temper; he was sufficiently _a fool to +fame_, and his fault was that he pretended to neglect it. His levity and +his sullenness were only in his letters; he passed through common life, +sometimes vexed, and sometimes pleased, with the natural emotions of +common men. His scorn of the great is repeated too often to be real; no +man thinks much of that which he despises; and as falsehood is always in +danger of inconsistency, he makes it his boast at another time that he +lives among them. It is evident that his own importance swells often in +his mind. He is afraid of writing, lest the clerks of the post-office +should know his secrets; he has many enemies; he considers himself as +surrounded by universal jealousy: “After many deaths, and many +dispersions, two or three of us,” says he, “may still be brought +together, not to plot, but to divert ourselves, and the world too, if it +pleases;” and they can live together, and “show what friends wits may be, +in spite of all the fools in the world.” All this while it was likely +that the clerks did not know his hand; he certainly had no more enemies +than a public character like his inevitably excites; and with what degree +of friendship the wits might live, very few were so much fools as ever to +inquire. Some part of this pretended discontent he learned from Swift, +and expresses it, I think, most frequently in his correspondence with +him. Swift’s resentment was unreasonable, but it was sincere; Pope’s was +the mere mimicry of his friend, a fictitious part which he began to play +before it became him. When he was only twenty-five years old, he related +that “a glut of study and retirement had thrown him on the world,” and +that there was danger lest “a glut of the world should throw him back +upon study and retirement.” To this Swift answered with great propriety, +that Pope had not yet acted or suffered enough in the world to have +become weary of it. And, indeed, it must have been some very powerful +reason that can drive back to solitude him who has once enjoyed the +pleasures of society. + +In the Letters both of Swift and Pope there appears such narrowness of +mind as makes them insensible of any excellence that has not some +affinity with their own, and confines their esteem and approbation to so +small a number, that whoever should form his opinion of their age from +their representation, would suppose them to have lived amidst ignorance +and barbarity, unable to find among their contemporaries either virtue or +intelligence, and persecuted by those that could not understand them. + +When Pope murmurs at the world, when he professes contempt of fame, when +he speaks of riches and poverty, of success and disappointment, with +negligent indifference, he certainly does not express his habitual and +settled resentments, but either wilfully disguises his own character, or, +what is more likely, invests himself with temporary qualities, and +sallies out in the colours of the present moment. His hopes and fears, +his joys and sorrows, acted strongly upon his mind, and if he differed +from others it was not by carelessness; he was irritable and resentful; +his malignity to Philips, whom he had first made ridiculous and then +hated for being angry continued too long. Of his vain desire to make +Bentley contemptible I never heard any adequate reason. He was sometimes +wanton in his attacks, and before Chandos, Lady Wortley, and Hill, was +mean in his retreat. The virtues which seem to have had most of his +affection were liberality and fidelity of friendship, in which it does +not appear that he was other than he describes himself. His fortune did +not suffer his character to be splendid and conspicuous, but he assisted +Dodsley with a hundred pounds that he might open a shop, and of the +subscription of forty pounds a year that he raised for Savage twenty were +paid by himself. He was accused of loving money, but his love was +eagerness to gain, not solicitude to keep it. In the duties of +friendship he was zealous and constant; his early maturity of mind +commonly united him with men older than himself, and therefore, without +attaining any considerable length of life, he saw many companions of his +youth sink into the grave; but it does not appear that he lost a single +friend by coldness or by injury; those who loved him once continued their +kindness. His ungrateful mention of Allen in his will was the effect of +his adherence to one whom he had known much longer, and whom he naturally +loved with greater fondness. His violation of the trust reposed in him +by Bolingbroke could have no motive inconsistent with the warmest +affection; he either thought the action so near to indifferent that he +forgot it, or so laudable that he expected his friend to approve it. It +was reported with such confidence as almost to enforce belief, that in +the papers entrusted to his executors was found a defamatory Life of +Swift, which he had prepared as an instrument of vengeance, to be used if +any provocation should be ever given. About this I inquired of the Earl +of Marchmont, who assured me that no such piece was among his remains. + +The religion in which he lived and died was that of the Church of Rome, +to which, in his correspondence with Racine, he professes himself a +sincere adherent. That he was not scrupulously pious in some part of his +life is known by many idle and indecent applications of sentences taken +from the Scriptures, a mode of merriment which a good man dreads for its +profaneness, and a witty man disdains for its easiness and vulgarity. +But to whatever levities he has been betrayed, it does not appear that +his principles were ever corrupted, or that he ever lost his belief of +revelation. The positions which he transmitted from Bolingbroke he seems +not to have understood, and was pleased with an interpretation that made +them orthodox. + +A man of such exalted superiority and so little moderation would +naturally have all his delinquencies observed and aggravated; those who +could not deny that he was excellent would rejoice to find that he was +not perfect. Perhaps it may be imputed to the unwillingness with which +the same man is allowed to possess many advantages, that his learning has +been depreciated. He certainly was in his early life a man of great +literary curiosity, and when he wrote his “Essay on Criticism,” had, for +his age, a very wide acquaintance with books. When he entered into the +living world it seems to have happened to him, as to many others, that he +was less attentive to dead masters; he studied in the academy of +Paracelsus, and made the universe his favourite volume. He gathered his +notions fresh from reality, not from the copies of authors, but the +originals of Nature. Yet there is no reason to believe that literature +ever lost his esteem; he always professed to love reading, and Dobson, +who spent some time at his house translating his “Essay on Man,” when I +asked him what learning he found him to possess, answered, “More than I +expected.” His frequent references to history, his allusions to various +kinds of knowledge, and his images selected from art and nature, with his +observations on the operations of the mind and the modes of life, show an +intelligence perpetually on the wing, excursive, vigorous, and diligent, +eager to pursue knowledge, and attentive to retain it. From this +curiosity arose the desire of travelling, to which he alludes in his +verses to Jervas, and which, though he never found an opportunity to +gratify it, did not leave him till his life declined. + +Of his intellectual character, the constituent and fundamental principle +was good sense, a prompt and intuitive perception of consonance and +propriety. He saw immediately of his own conceptions what was to be +chosen and what to be rejected, and, in the works of others, what was to +be shunned and what was to be copied. But good sense alone is a sedate +and quiescent quality, which manages its possessions well, but does not +increase them; it collects few materials for its own operations, and +preserves safety, but never gains supremacy. Pope had likewise genius; a +mind active, ambitious, and adventurous, always investigating, always +aspiring; in its widest searches still longing to go forward, in its +highest flights still wishing to be higher, always imagining some thing +greater than it knows, always endeavouring more than it can do. To +assist these powers he is said to have had great strength and exactness +of memory. That which he had heard or read was not easily lost, and he +had before him not only what his own meditations suggested, but what he +had found in other writers that might be accommodated to his present +purpose. These benefits of Nature he improved by incessant and unwearied +diligence; he had recourse to every source of intelligence, and lost no +opportunity of information; he consulted the living as well as the dead; +he read his compositions to his friends, and was never content with +mediocrity when excellence could be attained. He considered poetry as +the business of his life, and however he might seem to lament his +occupation he followed it with constancy; to make verses was his first +labour, and to mend them was his last. From his attention to poetry he +was never diverted. If conversation offered anything that could be +improved, he committed it to paper; if a thought, or perhaps an +expression, more happy than was common, rose to his mind, he was careful +to write it; an independent distich was preserved for an opportunity of +insertion, and some little fragments have been found containing lines, or +parts of lines, to be wrought upon at some other time. He was one of +those few whose labour is their pleasure; he was never elevated to +negligence nor wearied to impatience; he never passed a fault unamended +by indifference, nor quitted it by despair. He laboured his works first +to gain reputation, and afterwards to keep it. + +Of composition there are different methods. Some employ at once memory +and invention, and, with little intermediate use of the pen, form and +polish large masses by continued meditation, and write their productions +only when, in their own opinion, they have completed them. It is related +of Virgil that his custom was to pour out a great number of verses in the +morning, and pass the day in retrenching exuberances and correcting +inaccuracies. The method of Pope, as may be collected from his +translation, was to write his first thoughts in his first words, and +gradually to amplify, decorate, rectify, and refine them. With such +faculties and such dispositions he excelled every other writer in +poetical prudence; he wrote in such a manner as might expose him to few +hazards. He used almost always the same fabric of verse, and, indeed, by +those few essays which he made of any other, he did not enlarge his +reputation. Of this uniformity the certain consequence was readiness and +dexterity. By perpetual practice language had, in his mind, a +systematical arrangement; having always the same use for words, he had +words so selected and combined as to be ready at his call. This increase +of facility he confessed himself to have perceived in the progress of his +translation. But what was yet of more importance, his effusions were +always voluntary, and his subjects chosen by himself. His independence +secured him from drudging at a task, and labouring upon a barren topic; +he never exchanged praise for money, nor opened a shop of condolence or +congratulation. His poems, therefore, were scarcely ever temporary. He +suffered coronations and royal marriages to pass without a song, and +derived no opportunities from recent events, nor any popularity from the +accidental disposition of his readers. He was never reduced to the +necessity of soliciting the sun to shine upon a birthday, of calling the +graces and virtues to a wedding, or of saying what multitudes have said +before him. When he could produce nothing new he was at liberty to be +silent. + +His publications were for the same reason never hasty. He is said to +have sent nothing to the press till it had lain two years under his +inspection: it is at least certain that he ventured nothing without nice +examination. He suffered the tumult of imagination to subside, and the +novelties of invention to grow familiar. He knew that the mind is always +enamoured of its own productions, and did not trust his first fondness. +He consulted his friends, and listened with great willingness to +criticism; and, what was of more importance, he consulted himself, and +let nothing pass against his own judgment. He professed to have learned +his poetry from Dryden, whom, whenever an opportunity was presented, he +praised through his whole life with unvaried liberality; and perhaps his +character may receive some illustration if he be compared with his +master. + +Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were not allotted in +a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude of Dryden’s mind +was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his poetical prejudices, and +the rejection of unnatural thoughts and rugged numbers. But Dryden never +desired to apply all the judgment that he had. He wrote, and professed +to write, merely for the people; and when he pleased others, he contented +himself. He spent no time in struggles to rouse latent powers; he never +attempted to make that better which was already good, nor often to mend +what he must have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with +very little consideration; when occasion or necessity called upon him, he +poured out what the present moment happened to supply, and, when once it +had passed the press, ejected it from his mind; for, when he had no +pecuniary interest, he had no further solicitude. + +Pope was not content to satisfy; he desired to excel, and therefore +always endeavoured to do his best; he did not court the candour, but +dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from +others, he showed none to himself. He examined lines and words with +minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with +indefatigable diligence, till he had left nothing to be forgiven. For +this reason he kept his pieces very long in his hands, while he +considered and reconsidered them. The only poems which can be supposed +to have been written with such regard to the times as might hasten their +publication, were the two satires of “Thirty-eight;” of which Dodsley +told me that they were brought to him by the author, that they might be +fairly copied. “Almost every line,” he said, “was then written twice +over; I gave him a clean transcript, which he sent some time afterwards +to me for the press, with almost every line written twice over a second +time.” His declaration, that his care for his works ceased at their +publication, was not strictly true. His parental attention never +abandoned them; what he found amiss in the first edition, he silently +corrected in those that followed. He appears to have revised the +“Iliad,” and freed it from some of its imperfections; and the “Essay on +Criticism” received many improvements after its first appearance. It +will seldom be found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, +or vigour. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden certainly +wanted the diligence of Pope. + +In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, whose +education was more scholastic, and who before he became an author had +been allowed more time for study, with better means of information. His +mind has a larger range, and he collects his images and illustrations +from a more extensive circumference of science. Dryden knew more of man +in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The notions of +Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those of Pope by +minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and +more certainty in that of Pope. Poetry was not the sole praise of +either; for both excelled likewise in prose; but Pope did not borrow his +prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is capricious and +varied; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden observes the +motions of his own mind; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of +composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always +smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden’s page is a natural field, rising +into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant +vegetation; Pope’s is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled +by the roller. + +Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet; that quality without +which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that energy which +collects, combines, amplifies, and animates; the superiority must, with +some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred that of +this poetical vigour Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more; for +every other writer since Milton must give place to Pope; and even of +Dryden it must be said that, if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not +better poems. Dryden’s performances were always hasty, either excited by +some external occasion, or extorted by domestic necessity; he composed +without consideration, and published without correction. What his mind +could supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he sought, +and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled him to +condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate all +that study might produce or chance might supply. If the flights of +Dryden therefore are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of +Dryden’s fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope’s the heat is more regular +and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls +below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with +perpetual delight. This parallel will, I hope, when it is well +considered, be found just; and if the reader should suspect me, as I +suspect myself, of some partial fondness for the memory of Dryden, let +him not too hastily condemn me; for meditation and inquiry may, perhaps, +show him the reasonableness of my determination. + +The Works of Pope are now to be distinctly examined, not so much with +attention to slight faults or petty beauties, as to the general character +and effect of each performance. + +It seems natural for a young poet to initiate himself by pastorals, +which, not professing to imitate real life, require no experience; and, +exhibiting only the simple operation of unmingled passions, admit no +subtle reasoning or deep inquiry. Pope’s pastorals are not, however, +composed but with close thought; they have reference to the times of the +day, the seasons of the year, and the periods of human life. The last, +that which turns the attention upon age and death, was the author’s +favourite. To tell of disappointment and misery, to thicken the darkness +of futurity and perplex the labyrinth of uncertainty, has been always a +delicious employment of the poets. His preference was probably just. I +wish, however, that his fondness had not overlooked a line in which the +Zephyrs are made to lament in silence. To charge these pastorals with +wane of invention, is to require what was never intended. The imitations +are so ambitiously frequent, that the writer evidently means rather to +show his literature than his wit. It is surely sufficient for an author +of sixteen, not only to be able to copy the poems of antiquity with +judicious selection, but to have obtained sufficient power of language, +and skill in metre, to exhibit a series of versification which had in +English poetry no precedent, nor has since had an imitation. + +The design of “Windsor Forest” is evidently derived from “Cooper’s Hill,” +with some attention to Waller’s poem on “The Park;” but Pope cannot be +denied to excel his masters in variety and elegance, and the art of +interchanging description, narrative, and morality. The objection made +by Dennis is the want of plan, of a regular subordination of parts +terminating in the principal and original design. There is this want in +most descriptive poems, because as the scenes, which they must exhibit +successively, are all subsisting at the same time, the order in which +they are shown must by necessity be arbitrary, and more is not to be +expected from the last part than from the first. The attention, +therefore, which cannot be detained by suspense, must be excited by +diversity, such as this poem offers to its reader. But the desire of +diversity may be too much indulged; the parts of “Windsor Forest” which +deserve least praise are those which were added to enliven the stillness +of the scene—the appearance of Father Thames, and the transformation of +Lodona. Addison had in his “Campaign” derided the rivers that “rise from +their oozy beds” to tell stories of heroes; and it is therefore strange +that Pope should adopt a fiction not only unnatural, but lately censured. +The story of Lodona is told with sweetness; but a new metamorphosis is a +ready and puerile expedient; nothing is easier than to tell how a flower +was once a blooming virgin, or a rock an obdurate tyrant. + +The “Temple of Fame” has, as Steele warmly declared, a “thousand +beauties.” Every part is splendid; there is great luxuriance of +ornaments; the original vision of Chaucer was never denied to be much +improved; the allegory is very skilfully continued, the imagery is +properly selected, and learnedly displayed; yet, with all this +comprehension of excellence, as its scene is laid in remote ages, and its +sentiments, if the concluding paragraph be excepted, have little relation +to general manners or common life, it never obtained much notice, but is +turned silently over, and seldom quoted or mentioned with either praise +or blame. + +That the “Messiah” excels the “Pollio” is no great praise, if it be +considered from what original the improvements are derived. + +The “Verses on the Unfortunate Lady” have drawn much attention by the +illaudable singularity of treating suicide with respect; and they must be +allowed to be written in some parts with vigorous animation, and in +others with gentle tenderness; nor has Pope produced any poem in which +the sense predominates more over the diction. But the tale is not +skilfully told; it is not easy to discover the character of either the +lady or her guardian. History relates that she was about to disparage +herself by a marriage with an inferior; Pope praises her for the dignity +of ambition, and yet condemns the uncle to detestation for his pride; the +ambitious love of a niece may be opposed by the interest, malice, or envy +of an uncle, but never by his pride. On such an occasion a poet may be +allowed to be obscure, but inconsistency never can be right. + +The “Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day” was undertaken at the desire of Steele: +in this the author is generally confessed to have miscarried, yet he has +miscarried only as compared with Dryden; for he has far outgone other +competitors. Dryden’s plan is better chosen; history will always take +stronger hold of the attention than fable: the passions excited by Dryden +are the pleasures and pains of real life, the scene of Pope is laid in +imaginary existence; Pope is read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with +turbulent delight; Pope hangs upon the ear, and Dryden finds the passes +of the mind. Both the odes want the essential constituent of metrical +compositions, the stated recurrence of settled numbers. It may be +alleged that Pindar is said by Horace to have written _numeris lege +solutis_; but as no such lax performances have been transmitted to us, +the meaning of that expression cannot be fixed; and perhaps the like +return might properly be made to a modern Pindarist as Mr. Cobb received +from Bentley, who, when he found his criticisms upon a Greek exercise, +which Cobb had presented, refuted one after another by Pindar’s +authority, cried out at last, “Pindar was a bold fellow, but thou art an +impudent one.” + +If Pope’s ode be particularly inspected, it will be found that the first +stanza consists of sounds well chosen indeed, but only sounds. The +second consists of hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and +perhaps without much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the third, +however, there are numbers, images, harmony, and rigour, not unworthy the +antagonist of Dryden. Had all been like this—but every part cannot be +the best. The next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal +regions of mythology, where neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow +can be found: the poet, however, faithfully attends us; we have all that +can be performed by elegance of diction or sweetness of versification; +but what can form avail without better matter? The last stanza recurs +again to commonplaces. The conclusion is too evidently modelled by that +of Dryden; and it may be remarked that both end with the same fault; the +comparison of each is literal on one side and metaphorical on the other. +Poets do not always express their own thoughts: Pope, with all this +labour in the praise of music, was ignorant of its principles and +insensible of its effects. + +One of his greatest, though of his earliest works, is the “Essay on +Criticism,” which, if he had written nothing else, would have placed him +among the first critics and the first poets, as it exhibits every mode of +excellence that can embellish or dignify didactic composition, selection +of matter, novelty of arrangement, justness of precept, splendour of +illustration, and propriety of digression. I know not whether it be +pleasing to consider that he produced this piece at twenty, and never +afterwards excelled it: he that delights himself with observing that such +powers may be soon attained, cannot but grieve to think that life was +ever after at a stand. + +To mention the particular beauties of the essay would be unprofitably +tedious: but I cannot forbear to observe that the comparison of a +student’s progress in the sciences with the journey of a traveller in the +Alps is perhaps the best that English poetry can show. A simile, to be +perfect, must both illustrate and ennoble the subject; must show it to +the understanding in a clearer view, and display it to the fancy with +greater dignity; but either of these qualities may be sufficient to +recommend it. In didactic poetry, of which the great purpose is +instruction, a simile may be praised which illustrates, though it does +not ennoble; in heroics, that may be admitted which ennobles, though it +does not illustrate. That it may be complete, it is required to exhibit, +independently of its references, a pleasing image; for a simile is said +to be a short episode. To this antiquity was so attentive, that +circumstances were sometimes added, which, having no parallels, served +only to fill the imagination, and produced what Perrault ludicrously +called “comparisons with a long tail.” In their similes the greatest +writers have sometimes failed; the ship-race, compared with the +chariot-race, is neither illustrated nor aggrandised; land and water make +all the difference: when Apollo, running after Daphne, is likened to a +greyhound chasing a hare, there is nothing gained; the ideas of pursuit +and flight are too plain to be made plainer; and a god and the daughter +of a god are not represented much to their advantage by a hare and dog. +The simile of the Alps has no useless parts, yet affords a striking +picture by itself; it makes the foregoing position better understood, and +enables it to take faster hold on the attention; it assists the +apprehension and elevates the fancy. Let me likewise dwell a little on +the celebrated paragraph in which it is directed that “the sound should +seem an echo to the sense;” a precept which Pope is allowed to have +observed beyond any other English poet. + +This notion of representative metre, and the desire of discovering +frequent adaptations of the sound to the sense, have produced, in my +opinion, many wild conceits and imaginary beauties. All that can furnish +this representation are the sounds of the words considered singly and the +time in which they are pronounced. Every language has some words framed +to exhibit the noises which they express, as _thump_, _rattle_, _growl_, +_hiss_. These, however, are but few, and the poet cannot make them more, +nor can they be of any use but when sound is to be mentioned. The time +of pronunciation was in the dactylic measures of the learned languages +capable of considerable variety; but that variety could be accommodated +only to motion or duration, and different degrees of motion were perhaps +expressed by verses rapid or slow, without much attention of the writer, +when the image had full possession of his fancy: but our language having +little flexibility, our verses can differ very little in their cadence. +The fancied resemblances, I fear, arise sometimes merely from the +ambiguity of words; there is supposed to be some relation between a +_soft_ line and _soft_ couch, or between _heard_ syllables and _hard_ +fortune. Motion, however, may be in some sort exemplified; and yet it +may be suspected that in such resemblances the mind often governs the +ear, and the sounds are estimated by their meaning. One of their most +successful attempts has been to describe the labour of Sisyphus:— + + “With many a weary step, and many a groan, + Up a high hill he heaves a huge round stone; + The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, + Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.” + +Who does not perceive the stone to move slowly upward, and roll violently +back? But set the same numbers to another sense:— + + “While many a merry tale, and many a song, + Cheered the rough road, we wished the rough road long. + The rough road, then, returning in a round, + Mocked our impatient steps, for all was fairy ground.” + +We have now surely lost much of the delay and much of the rapidity. But, +to show how little the greatest master of numbers can fix the principles +of representative harmony, it will be sufficient to remark that the poet +who tells us that— + + “When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw, + The line too labours, and the words move slow: + Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, + Flies o’er th’ unbending corn, and skims along the main;” + +when he had enjoyed for about thirty years the praise of Camilla’s +lightness of foot, he tried another experiment upon _sound_ and _time_, +and produced this memorable triplet:— + + “Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to join + The varying verse, the full resounding line, + The long majestic march, and energy divine.” + +Here are the swiftness of the rapid race, and the march of slow-paced +majesty, exhibited by the same poet in the same sequence of syllables, +except that the exact prosodist will find the line of _swiftness_ by one +time longer than that of _tardiness_. Beauties of this kind are commonly +fancied, and, when real, are technical and nugatory, not to be rejected +and not to be solicited. + +To the praises which have been accumulated on the “Rape of the Look” by +readers of every class, from the critic to the waiting-maid, it is +difficult to make any addition. Of that which is universally allowed to +be the most attractive of all ludicrous compositions, let it rather be +now inquired from what sources the power of pleasing is derived. + +Dr. Warburton, who excelled in critical perspicacity, has remarked that +the preternatural agents are very happily adapted to the purposes of the +poem. The heathen deities can no longer gain attention; we should have +turned away from a contest between Venus and Diana. The employment of +allegorical persons always excites conviction of its own absurdity; they +may produce effects, but cannot conduct actions; when the phantom is put +in motion it dissolves; thus _Discord_ may raise a mutiny, but _Discord_ +cannot conduct a march nor besiege a town. Pope brought in view a new +race of beings, with powers and passions proportionate to their +operation. The Sylphs and Gnomes act at the toilet and the tea-table +what more terrific and more powerful phantoms perform on the stormy ocean +or the field of battle: they give their proper help and do their proper +mischief. Pope is said, by an objector, not to have been the inventor of +this petty notion, a charge which might with more justice have been +brought against the author of the “Iliad,” who doubtless adopted the +religious system of his country; for what is there but the names of his +agents which Pope has not invented? Has he not assigned them characters +and operations never heard of before? Has he not, at least, given them +their first poetical existence? If this is not sufficient to denominate +his work original, nothing original ever can be written. + +In this work are exhibited in a very high degree the two most engaging +powers of an author. New things are made familiar, and familiar things +are made new. A race of aërial people never heard of before is presented +to us in a manner so clear and easy that the reader seeks for no further +information, but immediately mingles with his new acquaintance, adopts +their interests, and attends their pursuits, loves a Sylph, and detests a +Gnome. That familiar things are made new every paragraph will prove. +The subject of the poem is an event below the common incidents of common +life; nothing real is introduced that is not seen so often as to be no +longer regarded; yet the whole detail of a female day is here brought +before us, invested with so much art of decoration that, though nothing +is disguised, everything is striking, and we feel all the appetite of +curiosity for that from which we have a thousand times turned +fastidiously away. + +The purpose of the poet is, as he tells us, to laugh at “the little +unguarded follies of the female sex.” It is therefore without justice +that Dennis charges the “Rape of the Lock” with the want of a moral, and +for that reason sets it below the “Lutrin,” which exposes the pride and +discord of the clergy. Perhaps neither Pope nor Boileau has made the +world much better than he found it; but if they had both succeeded, it +were easy to tell who would have deserved most from public gratitude. +The freaks, and humours, and spleen, and vanity of women as they embroil +families in discord, and fill houses with disquiet, do more to obstruct +the happiness of life in a year than the ambition of the clergy in many +centuries. It has been well observed that the misery of man proceeds not +from any single crush of overwhelming evil, but from small vexatious +continually repeated. It is remarked by Dennis, likewise, that the +machinery is superfluous; that, by all the bustle of preternatural +operation, the main event is neither hastened nor retarded. To this +charge an efficacious answer is not easily made. The Sylphs cannot be +said to help or oppose; and it must be allowed to imply some want of art +that their power has not been sufficiently intermingled with the action. +Other parts may likewise be charged with want of connection—the game at +_ombre_ might be spared; but if the lady had lost her hair while she was +intent upon her cards it might have been inferred that those who are too +fond of play will be in danger of neglecting more important interests. +Those, perhaps, are faults, but what are such faults to so much +excellence! + +The Epistle of “Eloise to Abelard” is one of the most happy productions +of human wit; the subject is so judiciously chosen that it would be +difficult in turning over the annals of the world to find another which +so many circumstances concur to recommend. We regularly interest +ourselves most in the fortune of those who most deserve our notice. +Abelard and Eloise were conspicuous in their days for eminence of merit. +The heart naturally loves truth. The adventures and misfortunes of this +illustrious pair are known from undisputed history. Their fate does not +leave the mind in hopeless dejection, for they both found quiet and +consolation in retirement and piety. So new and so affecting is their +story that it supersedes invention, and imagination ranges at full +liberty without straggling into scenes of fable. The story thus +skilfully adopted has been diligently improved. Pope has left nothing +behind him which seems more the effect of studious perseverance and +laborious revisal. Here is particularly observable the _curiosa +felicitas_, a fruitful soil and careful cultivation. Here is no +crudeness of sense nor asperity of language. The sources from which +sentiments which have so much vigour and efficacy have been drawn are +shown to be the mystic writers by the learned author of the “Essays on +the Life and Writings of Pope,” a book which teaches how the brow of +Criticism may be smoothed, and how she may be enabled, with all her +severity, to attract and to delight. + +The train of my disquisition has now conducted me to that poetical +wonder, the translation of the “Iliad,” a performance which no age or +nation can pretend to equal. To the Greeks translation was almost +unknown; it was totally unknown to the inhabitants of Greece. They had +no recourse to the barbarians for poetical beauties, but sought for +everything in Homer, where, indeed, there is but little which they might +not find. The Italians have been very diligent translators, but I can +hear of no version, unless, perhaps, Anguillara’s “Ovid” may be excepted, +which is read with eagerness. The “Iliad” of Salvini every reader may +discover to be punctiliously exact; but it seems to be the work of a +linguist skilfully pedantic; and his countrymen, the proper judges of its +power to please, reject it with disgust. Their predecessors, the Romans, +have left some specimens of translation behind them, and that employment +must have had some credit in which Tully and Germanicus engaged; but +unless we suppose, what is perhaps true, that the plays of Terence were +versions of Menander, nothing translated seems ever to have risen to high +reputation. The French in the meridian hour of their learning were very +laudably industrious to enrich their own language with the wisdom of the +ancients; but found themselves reduced by whatever necessity to turn the +Greek and Roman poetry into prose. Whoever could read an author could +translate him. From such rivals little can be feared. + +The chief help of Pope in this audacious undertaking was drawn from the +versions of Dryden. Virgil had borrowed much of his imagery from Homer; +and part of the debt was now paid by his translator. Pope searched the +pages of Dryden for happy combinations of heroic diction, but it will not +be denied that he added much to what he found. He cultivated our +language with so much diligence and art, that he has left in his “Homer” +a treasure of poetical elegances to posterity. His version may be said +to have tuned the English tongue; for since its appearance no writer, +however deficient in other powers, has wanted melody. Such a series of +lines, so elaborately corrected, and so sweetly modulated, took +possession of the public ear; the vulgar was enamoured of the poem, and +the learned wondered at the translation. But in the most general +applause discordant voices will always be heard. It has been objected by +some who wish to be numbered among the sons of learning that Pope’s +version of Homer is not Homerical; that it exhibits no resemblance of the +original and characteristic manner of the Father of Poetry, as it wants +his artless grandeur, his unaffected majesty. This cannot be totally +denied; but it must be remembered that _necessitas quod cogit defendit_; +that may be lawfully done which cannot be forborne. Time and place will +always enforce regard. In estimating this translation, consideration +must be had of the nature of our language, the form of our metre, and, +above all, of the change which two thousand years have made in the modes +of life and the habits of thought. Virgil wrote in a language of the +same general fabric with that of Homer, in verses of the same measure, +and in an age nearer to Homer’s time by eighteen hundred years; yet he +found even then the state of the world so much altered, and the demand +for elegance so much increased, that mere nature would be endured no +longer; and, perhaps, in the multitude of borrowed passages, very few can +be shown which he has not embellished. + +There is a time when nations, emerging from barbarity, and falling into +regular subordination, gain leisure to grow wise, and feel the shame of +ignorance and the craving pain of unsatisfied curiosity. To this hunger +of the mind plain sense is grateful; that which fills the void removes +uneasiness, and to be free from pain for a while is pleasure; but +repletion generates fastidiousness; a saturated intellect soon becomes +luxurious, and knowledge finds no willing reception till it is +recommended by artificial diction. Thus it will be found, in the +progress of learning, that in all nations the first writers are simple, +and that every age improves in elegance. One refinement always makes way +for another; and what was expedient to Virgil was necessary to Pope. I +suppose many readers of the English “Iliad,” when they have been touched +with some unexpected beauty of the lighter kind, have tried to enjoy it +in the original, where, alas! it was not to be found. Homer doubtless +owes to his translator many Ovidian graces not exactly suitable to his +character; but to have added can be no great crime, if nothing be taken +away. Elegance is surely to be desired, if it be not gained at the +expense of dignity. A hero would wish to be loved, as well as to be +reverenced. To a thousand cavils one answer is sufficient; the purpose +of a writer is to be read, and the criticism which would destroy the +power of pleasing must be blown aside. Pope wrote for his own age and +his own nation: he knew that it was necessary to colour the images and +point the sentiments of his author; he therefore made him graceful, but +lost him some of his sublimity. The copious notes with which the version +is accompanied, and by which it is recommended to many readers, though +they were undoubtedly written to swell the volumes, ought not to pass +without praise: commentaries which attract the reader by the pleasure of +perusal have not often appeared; the notes of others are read to clear +difficulties; those of Pope to vary entertainment. It has, however, been +objected, with sufficient reason, that there is in the commentary too +much of unseasonable levity and affected gaiety; that too many appeals +are made to the ladies, and the ease which is so carefully preserved is +sometimes the ease of a trifler. Every art has its terms, and every kind +of instruction its proper style; the gravity of common critics may be +tedious, but is less despicable than childish merriment. + +Of the “Odyssey” nothing remains to be observed; the same general praise +may be given to both translations, and a particular examination of either +would require a large volume. The notes were written by Broome, who +endeavoured, not unsuccessfully, to imitate his master. + +Of the “Dunciad” the hint is confessedly taken from Dryden’s “Mac +Flecknoe;” but the plan is so enlarged and diversified as justly to claim +the praise of an original, and affords the best specimen that has yet +appeared of personal satire ludicrously pompous. That the design was +moral, whatever the author might tell either his readers or himself, I am +not convinced. The first motive was the desire of revenging the contempt +with which Theobald had treated his Shakspeare, and regaining the honour +which he had lost, by crushing his opponent. Theobald was not of bulk +enough to fill a poem, and therefore it was necessary to find other +enemies with other names, at whose expense he might divert the public. + +In this design there was petulance and malignity enough; but I cannot +think it very criminal. An author places himself uncalled before the +tribunal of criticism, and solicits fame at the hazard of disgrace. +Dulness or deformity are not culpable in themselves, but may be very +justly reproached when they pretend to the honour of wit or the influence +of beauty. If bad writers were to pass without reprehension, what should +restrain them? _impune diem consumpserit ingens Telephus_; and upon bad +writers only will censure have much effect. The satire which brought +Theobald and Moore into contempt dropped impotent from Bentley, like the +javelin of Priam. All truth is valuable, and satirical criticism may be +considered as useful when it rectifies error and improves judgment; he +that refines the public taste is a public benefactor. The beauties of +this poem are well known; its chief fault is the grossness of its images. +Pope and Swift had an unnatural delight in ideas physically impure, such +as every other tongue utters with unwillingness, and of which every ear +shrinks from the mention. But even this fault, offensive as it is, may +be forgiven for the excellence of other passages; such as the formation +and dissolution of Moore, the account of the Traveller, the misfortune of +the Florist, and the crowded thoughts and stately numbers which dignify +the concluding paragraph. The alterations which have been made in the +“Dunciad,” not always for the better, require that it should be +published, as in the present collection, with all its variations. + +The “Essay on Man” was a work of great labour and long consideration, but +certainly not the happiest of Pope’s performances. The subject is +perhaps not very proper for poetry; and the poet was not sufficiently +master of his subject; metaphysical morality was to him a new study; he +was proud of his acquisitions, and, supposing himself master of great +secrets, was in haste to teach what he had not learned. Thus he tells +us, in the first Epistle, that from the nature of the Supreme Being may +be deduced an order of beings such as mankind, because infinite +excellence can do only what is best. He finds out that these beings must +be “somewhere;” and that “all the question is, whether man be in a wrong +place.” Surely if, according to the poet’s Leibnitzian reasoning, we may +infer that man ought to be, only because he is, we may allow that his +place is the right place, because he has it. Supreme Wisdom is not less +infallible in disposing than in creating. But what is meant by +_somewhere_, and _place_, and _wrong piece_, it had been in vain to ask +Pope, who probably had never asked himself. + +Having exalted himself into the chair of wisdom, he tells us much that +every man knows, and much that he does not know himself; that we see but +little, and that the order of the universe is beyond our comprehension; +an opinion not very uncommon; and that there is a chain of subordinate +beings “from infinite to nothing,” of which himself and his readers are +equally ignorant. But he gives us one comfort, which without his help he +supposes unattainable, in the position “that though we are fools, yet God +is wise.” + +This essay affords an egregious instance of the predominance of genius, +the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive powers of eloquence. +Never was penury of knowledge and vulgarity of sentiment so happily +disguised. The reader feels his mind full, though he learns nothing; +and, when he meets it in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his +mother and his nurse. When these wonder-working sounds sink into sense, +and the doctrine of the essay, disrobed of its ornaments, is left to the +powers of its naked excellence, what shall we discover? That we are, in +comparison with our Creator, very weak and ignorant; that we do not +uphold the chain of existence; and that we could not make one another +with more skill than we are made. We may learn yet more that the arts of +human life were copied from the instinctive operations of other animals; +that if the world be made for man, it may be said that man was made for +geese. To these profound principles of natural knowledge are added some +moral instructions equally new; that self-interest, well understood, will +produce social concord; that men are mutual gainers by mutual benefits; +that evil is sometimes balanced by good; that human advantages are +unstable and fallacious, of uncertain duration and doubtful effect; that +our true honour is not to have a great part, but to act it well; that +virtue only is our own; and that happiness is always in our power. +Surely a man of no very comprehensive search may venture to say that he +has heard all this before; but it was never till now recommended by such +a blaze of embellishments, or such sweetness of melody. The vigorous +contraction of some thoughts, the luxuriant amplification of others, the +incidental illustrations, and sometimes the dignity, sometimes the +softness of the verses, enchain philosophy, suspend criticism, and +oppress judgment by overpowering pleasure. This is true of many +paragraphs; yet, if I had undertaken to exemplify Pope’s felicity of +composition before a rigid critic, I should not select the “Essay on +Man;” for it contains more lines unsuccessfully laboured, more harshness +of diction, and more thoughts imperfectly expressed, more levity without +elegance, and more heaviness without strength, than will easily be found +in all his other works. + +The “Characters of Men and Women” are the product of diligent speculation +upon human life; much labour has been bestowed upon them, and Pope very +seldom laboured in vain. That his excellence may be properly estimated, +I recommend a comparison of his “Characters of Women” with Boileau’s +Satire; it will then be seen with how much more perspicacity female +nature is investigated, and female excellence selected; and he surely is +no mean writer to whom Boileau should be found inferior. The “Characters +of Men,” however, are written with more, if not with deeper, thought, and +exhibit many passages exquisitely beautiful. The “Gem and the Flower” +will not easily be equalled. In the women’s part are some defects; the +character of Atossa is not so neatly finished as that of Clodio, and some +of the female characters may be found, perhaps, more frequently among +men; what is said of Philomede was true of Prior. + +In the Epistles to Lord Bathurst and Lord Burlington, Dr. Warburton has +endeavoured to find a train of thought which was never in the writer’s +head, and, to support his hypothesis, has printed that first which was +published last. In one the most valuable passage is perhaps the Elegy on +Good Sense, and the other the end of the Duke of Buckingham. + +The Epistle to Arbuthnot, now arbitrarily called the “Prologue to the +Satires,” is a performance consisting, as it seems, of many fragments +wrought into one design, which, by this union of scattered beauties, +contains more striking paragraphs than could probably have been brought +together into an occasional work. As there is no stronger motive to +exertion than self-defence, no part has more elegance, spirit, or +dignity, than the poet’s vindication of his own character. The meanest +passage is the satire upon Sporus. + +Of the two poems which derived their names from the year, and which are +called the “Epilogue to the Satires,” it was very justly remarked by +Savage that the second was in the whole more strongly conceived, and more +equally supported, but that it had no single passages equal to the +contention in the first for the dignity of Vice and the celebration of +the triumph of Corruption. + +The “Imitations of Horace” seem to have been written as relaxations of +his genius. This employment became his favourite by its facility; the +plan was ready to his hand, and nothing was required but to accommodate +as he could the sentiments of an old author to recent facts or familiar +images; but what is easy is seldom excellent. Such imitations cannot +give pleasure to common readers; the man of learning may be sometimes +surprised and delighted by an unexpected parallel, but the comparison +requires knowledge of the original, which will likewise often detect +strained applications. Between Roman images and English manners there +will be an irreconcilable dissimilitude, and the works will be generally +uncouth and parti-coloured, neither original nor translated, neither +ancient nor modern. + +Pope had, in proportions very nicely adjusted to each other, all the +qualities that constitute genius. He had _intention_, by which new +trains of events are formed and new scenes of imagery displayed, as in +the “Rape of the Lock,” and by which extrinsic and adventitious +embellishments and illustrations are connected with a known subject, as +in the “Essay on Criticism.” He had _imagination_, which strongly +impresses on the writer’s mind, and enables him to convey to the reader +the various forms of nature, incidents of life, and energies of passion, +as in his “Eloisa,” “Windsor Forest,” and “Ethic Epistles.” He had +_judgment_, which selects from life or Nature what the present purpose +requires, and by separating the essence of things from its concomitants, +often makes the representation more powerful than the reality; and he had +colours of language always before him, ready to decorate his matter with +every grace of elegant expression, as when he accommodates his diction to +the wonderful multiplicity of Homer’s sentiments and descriptions. + +Poetical expression includes sound as well as meaning. “Music,” says +Dryden, “is inarticulate poetry;” among the excellences of Pope, +therefore, must be mentioned the melody of his metre. By perusing the +works of Dryden, he discovered the most perfect fabric of English verse, +and habituated himself to that only which he found the best; in +consequence of which restraint his poetry has been censured as too +uniformly musical, and as glutting the ear with unvaried sweetness. I +suspect this objection to be the cant of those who judge by principles +rather than perception, and who would even themselves have less pleasure +in his works if he had tried to relieve attention by studied discords, or +affected to break his lines and vary his pauses. But though he was thus +careful of his versification, he did not oppress his powers with +superfluous rigour. He seems to have thought with Boileau that the +practice of writing might be refined till the difficulty should +overbalance the advantage. The construction of the language is not +always strictly grammatical; with those rhymes which prescription had +conjoined he contented himself, without regard to Swift’s remonstrances, +though there was no striking consonance, nor was he very careful to vary +his terminations or to refuse admission, at a small distance, to the same +rhymes. To Swift’s edict for the exclusion of alexandrines and triplets +he paid little regard; he admitted them, but, in the opinion of Fenton, +too rarely; he uses them more liberally in his translation than his +poems. He has a few double rhymes, and always, I think, unsuccessfully, +except once in the “Rape of the Lock.” Expletives he very early ejected +from his verses, but he now and then admits an epithet rather commodious +than important. Each of the six first lines of the “Iliad” might lose +two syllables with very little diminution of the meaning, and sometimes, +after all his art and labour, one verse seems to be made for the sake of +another. In his latter productions the diction is sometimes vitiated by +French idioms, with which Bolingbroke had perhaps infected him. + +I have been told that the couplet by which he declared his own ear to be +most gratified was this:— + + “Lo, where Mæotis sleeps, and hardly flows + The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.” + +But the reason of this preference I cannot discover. + +It is remarked by Watts that there is scarcely a happy combination of +words, or a phrase poetically elegant in the English language, which Pope +has not inserted into his version of Homer. How he obtained possession +of so many beauties of speech it were desirable to know. That he gleaned +from authors, obscure as well as eminent, what he thought brilliant or +useful, and preserved it all in a regular collection, is not unlikely. +When, in his last years, Hall’s “Satires” were shown him, he wished that +he had seen them sooner. New sentiments and new images others may +produce; but to attempt any further improvement of versification will be +dangerous. Art and diligence have now done their best, and what shall be +added will be the effort of tedious toil and needless curiosity. After +all this, it is surely superfluous to answer the question that has once +been asked, Whether Pope was a poet, otherwise than by asking in return, +If Pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? To circumscribe +poetry by a definition will only show the narrowness of the definer, +though a definition which shall exclude Pope will not easily be made. +Let us look round upon the present time and back upon the past; let us +inquire to whom the voice of mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; +let their productions be examined, and their claims stated, and the +pretensions of Pope will be no more disputed. Had he given the world +only his version, the name of poet must have been allowed him: if the +writer of the “Iliad” were to class his successors he would assign a very +high place to his translator, without requiring any other evidence of +genius. + +The following letter, of which the original is in the hands of Lord +Hardwicke, was communicated to me by the kindness of Mr. Jodrell:— + + “_To_ MR. BRIDGES, _at the Bishop of London’s_, _at Fulham_. + + “SIR,—The favour of your letter, with your remarks, can never be + enough acknowledged, and the speed with which you discharged so + troublesome a task doubles the obligation. + + “I must own you have pleased me very much by the commendations so ill + bestowed upon me; but I assure you, much more by the frankness of + your censure, which I ought to take the more kindly of the two, as it + is more advantage to a scribbler to be improved in his judgment than + to be smoothed in his vanity. The greater part of those deviations + from the Greek which you have observed I was led into by Chapman and + Hobbes; who are, it seems, as much celebrated for their knowledge of + the original as they are decried for the badness of their + translations. Chapman pretends to have restored the genuine sense of + the author from the mistakes of all former explainers in several + hundred places; and the Cambridge editors of the large Homer, in + Greek and Latin, attributed so much to Hobbes, that they confess they + have corrected the old Latin interpretation very often by his + version. For my part, I generally took the author’s meaning to be as + you have explained it; yet their authority, joined to the knowledge + of my own imperfectness in the language, overruled me. However, sir, + you may be confident, I think you in the right, because you happen to + be of my opinion; for men (let them say what they will) never approve + any other’s sense but as it squares with their own. But you have + made me much more proud of and positive in my judgment, since it is + strengthened by yours. I think your criticisms which regard the + expression very just, and shall make my profit of them; to give you + some proof that I am in earnest, I will alter three verses on your + bare objection, though I have Mr. Dryden’s example for each of them. + And this, I hope, you will account no small piece of obedience, from + one who values the authority of one true poet above that of twenty + critics or commentators. But, though I speak thus of commentators, I + will continue to read carefully all I can procure, to make up that + way for my own want of critical understanding in the original + beauties of Homer. Though the greatest of them are certainly those + of invention and design, which are not at all confined to the + language; for the distinguishing excellences of Homer are (by the + consent of the best critics of all nations), first in the manners + (which include all the speeches, as being no other than the + representations of each person’s manners by his words): and then in + that rapture and fire, which carries you away with him, with that + wonderful force, that no man who has a true poetical spirit is master + of himself while he reads him. Homer makes you interested and + concerned before you are aware, all at once, where Virgil does it by + soft degrees. This, I believe, is what a translator of Homer ought + principally to imitate; and it is very hard for any translator to + come up to it, because the chief reason why all translations fall + short of their originals is, that the very constraint they are + obliged to renders them heavy and dispirited. + + “The great beauty of Homer’s language, as I take it, consists in that + noble simplicity which runs through all his works (and yet his + diction, contrary to what one would imagine consistent with + simplicity, is at the same time very copious). I don’t know how I + have run into this pedantry in a letter, but I find I have said too + much, as well as spoken too inconsiderately; what farther thoughts I + have upon this subject I shall be glad to communicate to you (for my + own improvement) when we meet, which is a happiness I very earnestly + desire, as I do likewise some opportunity of proving how much I think + myself obliged to your friendship, and how truly I am, sir, + + “Your most faithful humble servant, + + “A. POPE.” + +The criticism upon Pope’s Epitaphs, which was printed in “The Universal +Visitor,” is placed here, being too minute and particular to be inserted +in the Life. + +Every art is best taught by example. Nothing contributes more to the +cultivation of propriety than remarks on the works of those who have most +excelled. I shall therefore endeavour at this _visit_ to entertain the +young students in poetry with an examination of Pope’s Epitaphs. + +To define an epitaph is useless; every one knows that it is an +inscription on a tomb. An epitaph, therefore, implies no particular +character of writing, but may be composed in verse or prose. It is, +indeed, commonly panegyrical, because we are seldom distinguished with a +stone but by our friends; but it has no rule to restrain or mollify it +except this, that it ought not to be longer than common beholders may be +expected to have leisure and patience to peruse. + + I. + + _On_ CHARLES _Earl of_ DORSET, _in the church of Wythyham in Sussex_. + + Dorset, the grace of courts, the Muse’s pride, + Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died. + The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great, + Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state; + Yet soft in nature, though severe his lay, + His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. + Blest satirist! who touched the means so true, + As showed Vice had his hate and pity too. + Blest courtier! who could king and country please, + Yet sacred kept his friendship and his ease. + Blest peer! his great forefathers’ every grace + Reflecting, and reflected on his race; + Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine, + And patriots still, or pests, deck the line. + +The first distich of this epitaph contains a kind of information which +few would want, that the man for whom the tomb was erected _died_. There +are indeed some qualities worthy of the praise ascribed to the dead, but +none that were likely to exempt him from the lot of man, or incline us +much to wonder that he should die. What is meant by “judge of nature” is +not easy to say. Nature is not the object of human judgment; for it is +in vain to judge where we cannot alter. If by nature is meant what is +commonly called _nature_ by the critics, a just representation of things +really existing, and actions really performed, nature cannot be properly +opposed to _art_; nature being, in this sense, only the best effect of +_art_. + + The scourge of pride— + +Of this couplet the second line is not what is intended, an illustration +of the former. _Pride_ in the _Great_, is indeed well enough connected +with knaves in state, though _knaves_ is a word rather too ludicrous and +light; but the mention of _sanctified_ pride will not lead the thoughts +to _fops in learning_, but rather to some species of tyranny or +oppression, something more gloomy and more formidable than foppery. + + Yet soft his nature— + +This is a high compliment, but was not first bestowed on Dorset by Pope. +The next verse is extremely beautiful. + + Blest satirist!— + +In this distich is another line of which Pope was not the author. I do +not mean to blame these imitations with much harshness; in long +performances they are scarcely to be avoided, and in shorter they may be +indulged, because the train of the composition may naturally involve +them, or the scantiness of the subject allow little choice. However, +what is borrowed is not to be enjoyed as our own, and it is the business +of critical justice to give every bird of the Muses his proper feather. + + Blest courtier!— + +Whether a courtier can properly be commended for keeping his _ease +sacred_, may perhaps be disputable. To please king and country without +sacrificing friendship to any change of times was a very uncommon +instance of prudence or felicity, and deserved to be kept separate from +so poor a commendation as care of his ease. I wish our poets would +attend a little more accurately to the use of the word _sacred_, which +surely should never be applied in a serious composition, but where some +reference may be made to a higher Being, or where some duty is exacted or +implied. A man may keep his friendship sacred, because promises of +friendship are very awful ties; but methinks he cannot, but in a +burlesque sense, be said to keep his ease _sacred_. + + Blest peer!— + +The blessing ascribed to the _peer_ has no connection with his peerage; +they might happen to any other man whose posterity were likely to be +regarded. + +I know not whether this epitaph be worthy either of the writer or the man +entombed. + + II. + + _On Sir_ WILLIAM TRUMBULL, _one of the principal Secretaries of State to + King_ WILLIAM III., _who_, _having resigned his place_, _died in his + retirement at Easthamstead_, _in Berkshire_, _1716_. + + A pleasing form, a firm, yet cautious mind, + Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resigned; + Honour unchanged, a principle profest. + Fixed to one side, but moderate to the rest; + An honest courtier, yet a patriot too, + Just to his prince, and to his country true; + Filled with the sense of age, the fire of youth, + A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth; + A generous faith, from superstition free; + A love to peace, and hate of tyranny; + Such this man was; who new from earth removed + At length enjoys that liberty he loved. + +In this epitaph, as in many others, there appears at the first view a +fault which I think scarcely any beauty can compensate. The name is +omitted. The end of an epitaph is to convey some account of the dead; +and to what purpose is anything told of him whose name is concealed? An +epitaph, and a history of a nameless hero, are equally absurd, since the +virtues and qualities so recounted in either are scattered at the mercy +of fortune to be appropriated by guess. The name, it is true, may be +read upon the stone; but what obligation has it to the poet, whose verses +wander over the earth and leave their subject behind them, and who is +forced, like an unskilful painter, to make his purpose known by +adventitious help? This epitaph is wholly without elevation, and +contains nothing striking or particular; but the poet is not to be blamed +for the defect of his subject. He said perhaps the best that could be +said. There are, however, some defects which were not made necessary by +the character in which he was employed. There is no opposition between +an _honest courtier_ and a _patriot_; for an _honest_, _courtier_ cannot +but be a _patriot_. It was unsuitable to the nicety required in short +compositions to close his verse with the word _too_; every rhyme should +be a word of emphasis: nor can this rule be safely neglected, except +where the length of the poem makes slight inaccuracies excusable, or +allows room for beauties sufficient to overpower the effects of petty +faults. + +At the beginning of the seventh line the word _filled_ is weak and +prosaic, having no particular adaptation to any of the words that follow +it. The thought in the last line is impertinent, having no connection +with the foregoing character, nor with the condition of the man +described. Had the epitaph been written on the poor conspirator who died +lately in prison, after a confinement of more than forty years, without +any crime proved against him, the sentiment had been just and pathetical; +but why should Trumbull be congratulated upon his liberty who had never +known restraint? + + III. + +_On the Hon._ SIMON HARCOURT, _only son of the Lord Chancellor_ HARCOURT, + _at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire_, _1720_. + + To this sad shrine, whoe’er thou art, draw near, + Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear; + Who ne’er knew joy, but friendship might divide, + Or gave his father grief but when he died. + How vain is reason, eloquence how weak! + If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. + Oh let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone, + And with a father’s sorrows mix his own! + +This epitaph is principally remarkable for the artful introduction of the +name, which is inserted with a peculiar felicity, to which chance must +concur with genius, which no man can hope to attain twice, and which +cannot be copied but with servile imitation. I cannot but wish that, of +this inscription, the two last lines had been omitted, as they take away +from the energy what they do not add to the sense. + + IV. + + _On_ JAMES CRAGGS, _Esq._, _in Westminster Abbey_. + + JACOBVS CRAGS, + REGI MAGNAE BRITANNIAE A SECRETIS + ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBVS, + PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPVLI AMOR ET DELICIAE: + VIXIT TITLIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR + ANNOS HEV PAVCOS, XXXV. + OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX. + + Statesman, yet friend to truth; of soul sincere, + In action faithful, and in honour clear! + Who broke no premise, served no private end, + Who gained no title, and who lost no friend; + Ennobled by himself, by all approved, + Praised, wept, and honoured by the Muse he loved. + +The lines on Craggs were not originally intended for an epitaph; and +therefore some faults are to be imputed to the violence with which they +are torn from the poems that first contained them. We may, however, +observe some defects. There is a redundancy of words in the first +couplet: it is superfluous to tell of him, who was _sincere_, _true_, and +_faithful_, that he was _in honour clear_. There seems to be an +opposition intended in the fourth line, which is not very obvious: where +is the relation between the two positions, that he _gained no title_ and +_lest no friend_? + +It may be proper here to remark the absurdity of joining in the same +inscription Latin and English or verse and prose. If either language be +preferable to the other, let that only be used; for no reason can be +given why part of the information should be given in one tongue, and part +in another on a tomb, more than in any other place, or any other +occasion; and to tell all that can be conveniently told in verse, and +then to call in the help of prose, has always the appearance of a very +artless expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such an epitaph +resembles the conversation of a foreigner, who tells part of his meaning +by words, and conveys part by signs. + + V. + + _Intended for Mr._ ROWE, _in Westminster Abbey_. + + Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, + And sacred, place by Dryden’s awful dust; + Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies, + To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes. + Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest! + Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest; + One grateful women to thy fame supplies + What a whole thankless land to his denies. + +Of this inscription the chief fault is that it belongs less to Rowe, for +whom it was written, than to Dryden, who was buried near him; and indeed +gives very little information concerning either. + +To wish _peace to thy shade_ is too mythological to be admitted into a +Christian temple: the ancient worship has infected almost all our other +compositions, and might therefore be contented to spare our epitaphs. +Let fiction, at least, cease with life, and let us be serious over the +grave. + + VI. + + _On Mrs._ CORBET, _who died of a Cancer in her Breast_. + + Here rests a woman, good without pretence, + Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense; + No conquest she, but o’er herself, desired; + No arts essayed, but not to be admired. + Passion and pride were to her soul unknown, + Convinced that Virtue only is our own. + So unaffected, so composed a mind, + So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined, + Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried; + The saint sustained it, but the woman died. + +I have always considered this as the most valuable of all Pope’s +epitaphs; the subject of it is a character not discriminated by any +shining or eminent peculiarities; yet that which really makes, though not +the splendour, the felicity of life, and that which every wise man will +choose for his final and lasting companion in the languor of age, in the +quiet of privacy, when he departs weary and disgusted from the +ostentatious, the volatile, and the vain. Of such a character, which the +dull overlook and the gay despise, it was fit that the value should be +made known and the dignity established. Domestic virtue, as it is +exerted without great occasions, or conspicuous consequences, in an even +unnoted tenor, required the genius of Pope to display it in such a manner +as might attract regard and enforce reverence. Who can forbear to lament +that this amiable woman has no name in the verses? If the particular +lines of this inscription be examined, it will appear less faulty than +the rest. There is scarce one line taken from commonplaces, unless it be +that in which _only Virtue_ is said to be _our own_. I once heard a lady +of great beauty and excellence object to the fourth line that it +contained an unnatural and incredible panegyric. Of this let the ladies +judge. + + VII. + + _On the Monument of the Hon._ ROBERT DIGBY, _and of his Sister_ MARY, + _erected by their Father the Lord_ DIGBY _in the church of Sherborne in + Dorsetshire_, 1727 + + Go! fair example of untainted youth, + Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth: + Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate, + Good without noise, without pretension great + Just of thy word, in every thought sincere, + Who knew no wish but what the world might hear: + Of softest manners, unaffected mind, + Lover of peace, and friend of human kind: + Go, live! for heaven’s eternal year is thine, + Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine. + And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom. + Pensive hast followed to the silent tomb, + Steered the same course to the same quiet shore, + Not parted long, and now to part no more! + Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known! + Go, where to love and to enjoy are one! + Yet take these tears, Mortality’s relief, + And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief: + These little rites a stone, a verse receive. + ’Tis all a father, all a friend can give! + +This epitaph contains of the brother only a general indiscriminate +character, and of the sister tells nothing but that she died. The +difficulty in writing epitaphs is to give a particular and appropriate +praise. This, however, is not always to be performed, whatever be the +diligence or ability of the writer; for the greater part of mankind _have +no character at all_, have little that distinguishes them from others, +equally good or bad, and therefore nothing can be said of them which may +not be applied with equal propriety to a thousand more. It is indeed no +great panegyric that there is enclosed in this tomb one who was born in +one year, and died in another; yet many useful and amiable lives have +been spent which yet leave little materials for any other memorial. +These are however not the proper subjects of poetry; and whenever +friendship, or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on such +subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in generalities, +and utters the same praises over different tombs. + +The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more apparent than +by remarking how often Pope has, in the few epitaphs which he composed, +found it necessary to borrow from himself. The fourteen epitaphs which +he has written comprise about a hundred and forty lines, in which there +are more repetitions than will easily be found in all the rest of his +works. In the eight lines which make the character of Digby there is +scarce any thought or word which may not be found in the other epitaphs. +The ninth line, which is far the strongest and most elegant, is borrowed +from Dryden. The conclusion is the same with that on Harcourt, but is +here more elegant and better connected. + + VIII. + + _On Sir_ GODFREY KNELLER, _in Westminster Abbey_, 1723. + + Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master, taught, + Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures thought; + Now for two ages, having snatched from fate + Whate’er was beauteous, or whate’er was great, + Lies crowned with Princes, honours, Poets, lays, + Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise. + Living, great Nature feared he might outvie + Her works; and dying, fears herself may die. + +Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, the third +is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word crowned not being applicable +to the honours or the lays, and the fourth is not only borrowed from the +epitaph on Raphael, but of a very harsh construction. + + IX. + + _On General_ HENRY WITHERS, _in Westminster Abbey_, 1729. + + Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, + Thy country’s friend, but more of human kind. + O born to arms! O worth in youth approved! + O soft humanity in age beloved! + For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear, + And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere + Withers, adieu! yet not will thee remove + Thy martial spirit, or thy social love! + Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage, + Still leave some ancient virtues to our age: + Nor let us say (those English glories gone) + The last true Briton lies beneath this stone. + +The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of commonplaces, though +somewhat diversified by mingled qualities, and the peculiarity of a +profession. The second couplet is abrupt, general, and unpleasing; +exclamation seldom succeeds in our language; and, I think, it may be +observed that the particle O! used at the beginning of a sentence, always +offends. The third couplet is more happy; the value expressed for him, +by different sorts of men, raises him to esteem; there is yet something +of the common cant of superficial satirists, who suppose that the +insincerity of a courtier destroys all his sensations, and that he is +equally a dissembler to the living and the dead. At the third couplet I +should wish the epitaph to close, but that I should be unwilling to lose +the two next lines, which yet are dearly bought if they cannot be +retained without the four that follow them. + + X. + + _On Mr._ ELIJAH FENTON, _at Easthamstead in Berkshire_, 1730. + + This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, + May truly say, Here lies an honest man: + A poet, blest beyond the poet’s fate, + Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great: + Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, + Content with science in the vale of peace. + Calmly he looked on either life, and here + Saw nothing to regret or there to fear; + From Nature’s temperate feast rose satisfied, + Thanked Heaven that he lived, and that he died. + +The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from Crashaw. The four +next lines contain a species of praise peculiar, original, and just. +Here, therefore, the inscription should have ended, the latter part +containing nothing but what is common to every man who is wise and good. +The character of Fenton was so amiable, that I cannot forbear to wish for +some poet or biographer to display it more fully for the advantage of +posterity. If he did not stand in the first rank of genius, he may claim +a place in the second; and, whatever criticism may object to his +writings, censure could find very little to blame in his life. + + XI. + + _On Mr._ GAY, _in Westminster Abbey_, 1732. + + Of manners gentle, of affections mild; + In wit, a muse; simplicity, a child: + With native humour tempering virtuous rage, + Formed to delight at once and lash the age: + Above temptation, in a low estate, + And uncorrupted, ev’n among the Great: + A safe companion and an easy friend, + Unbiased through life, lamented in thy end, + These are thy honours! not that here thy bust + Is mixed with heroes, or with kings thy dust; + But that the worthy and the Good shall say, + Striking their pensive bosoms—Here lies GAY. + +As Gay was the favourite of our author this epitaph was probably written +with an uncommon degree of attention, yet it is not more successfully +executed than the rest, for it will not always happen that the success of +a poet is proportionate to his labour. The same observation may be +extended to all works of imagination, which are often influenced by +causes wholly out of the performer’s power, by hints of which he +perceives not the origin, by sudden elevations of mind which he cannot +produce in himself, and which sometimes rise when he expects them least. +The two parts of the first line are only echoes of each other; _gentle +manners_ and _mild affections_, if they mean anything, must mean the +same. + +That Gay was a _man in wit_ is a very frigid commendation; to have the +wit of a man is not much for a poet. The _wit of man_ and the +_simplicity of a child_ make a poor and vulgar contrast, and raise no +ideas of excellence, either intellectual or moral. + +In the next couplet _rage_ is less properly introduced after the mention +of _mildness_ and _gentleness_, which are made the constituents of his +character; for a man so _mild_ and _gentle_ to _temper_ his _rage_ was +not difficult. The next line is inharmonious in its sound, and mean in +its conception; the opposition is obvious, and the word _lash_ used +absolutely, and without any modification, is gross and improper. To be +_above temptation_ in poverty and _free from corruption among the Great_ +is indeed such a peculiarity as deserved notice. But to be a _safe +companion_ is a praise merely negative, arising not from possession of +virtue but the absence of vice, and that one of the most odious. + +As little can be added to his character by asserting that he was +_lamented in his end_. Every man that dies is, at least by the writer of +his epitaph, supposed to be lamented, and therefore this general +lamentation does no honour to Gay. + +The first eight lines have no grammar; the adjectives are without any +substantive, and the epithets without a subject. The thought in the last +line, that Gay is buried in the bosoms of the _worthy_ and _good_, who +are distinguished only to lengthen the line, is so dark that few +understand it, and so harsh, when it is explained, that still fewer +approve. + + XII. + + _Intended for Sir_ ISAAC NEWTON, _in Westminster Abbey_. + + ISAACUS NEWTONIUS: + Quem Immortalem + Testantur, _Tempus_, _Natura_, _Cœlum_: + Mortalem hoc marmor fatetur. + Nature, and Nature’s laws, lay hid in night: + God said, _Let Newton be_! And all was light. + +On this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be very few. Why +part should be Latin and part English it is not easy to discover. In the +Latin the opposition of _Immortalis_ and _Mortalis_ is a mere sound, or a +mere quibble; he is not _immortal_ in any sense contrary to that in which +he is _mortal_. In the verses the thought is obvious, and the words +_night_ and _light_ are too nearly allied. + + XIII. + +_On_ EDMUND _Duke of_ BUCKINGHAM, _who died in the 19th Year of his Age_, + 1735. + + If modest youth, with cool reflection crowned, + And every opening virtue blooming round, + Could save a parent’s justest pride from fate, + Or add one patriot to a sinking state; + This weeping marble had not asked thy tear, + Or sadly told how many hopes lie here! + The living virtue now had shone approved, + The senate heard him, and his country loved. + Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame, + Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham: + In whom a race, for courage famed and art, + Ends in the milder merit of the heart; + And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given, + Pays the last tribute of a saint to heaven. + +This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest, but I know not for what +reason. To _crown_ with _reflection_ is surely a mode of speech +approaching to nonsense. _Opening virtues blooming round_ is something +like tautology; the six following lines are poor and prosaic. _Art_ is +in another couplet used for _arts_, that a rhyme may be had to _heart_. +The six last lines are the best, but not excellent. + +The rest of his sepulchral performances hardly deserve the notice of +criticism. The contemptible dialogue between He and She should have been +suppressed for the author’s sake. + +In his last epitaph on himself, in which he attempts to be jocular upon +one of the few things that make wise men serious, he confounds the living +man with the dead: + + “Under this stone, or under this sill, + Or under this turf, &c.” + +When a man is once buried, the question, under what he is buried, is +easily decided. He forgot that though he wrote the epitaph in a state of +uncertainty, yet it could not be laid over him till his grave was made. +Such is the folly of wit when it is ill employed. + +The world has but little new, even this wretchedness seems to have been +borrowed from the following tuneless lines:— + + “Ludovici Areosti humantur ossa + Sub hoc marmore, vel sub hac humo, seu + Sub quicquid voluit benignus hæres + Siv hærede benignior comes, seu + Opportunius incidens Viator: + Nam scire haud potuit futura, sed nec + Tanti erat vacuum sibi cadaver + Ut utnam cuperet parere vivens, + Vivens ista tamen sibi paravit. + Quæ inscribi voluit suo sepulchro + Olim siquod haberetis sepulchrum.” + +Surely Ariosto did not venture to expect that his trifle would have ever +had such an illustrious imitator. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS: +PRIOR, CONGREVE, BLACKMORE AND POPE*** + + +******* This file should be named 5101-0.txt or 5101-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/0/5101 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore and Pope + + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: February 8, 2015 [eBook #5101] +[This file was first posted on April 26, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS: +PRIOR, CONGREVE, BLACKMORE AND POPE*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell and Company edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<h1>LIVES<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OF THE</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">English Poets</span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>Prior</b> +<b>Congreve</b> <b>Blackmore</b> +<b>Pope</b></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY. <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">, </span><span +class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS</i></span><span class="GutSmall"> & +</span><span class="GutSmall"><i>MELBOURNE</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">.</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1891.</span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span>, at the age of sixty-eight, +Johnson was writing these “Lives of the English +Poets,” he had caused omissions to be made from the poems +of Rochester, and was asked whether he would allow the printers +to give all the verse of Prior. Boswell quoted a censure by +Lord Hailes of “those impure tales which will be the +eternal opprobrium of their ingenious author.” +Johnson replied, “Sir, Lord Hailes has forgot. There +is nothing in Prior that will excite to lewdness;” and when +Boswell further urged, he put his questionings aside, and added, +“No, sir, Prior is a lady’s book. No lady is +ashamed to have it standing in her library.” Johnson +distinguished strongly, as every wise man does, between offence +against convention, and offence against morality.</p> +<p>In Congreve’s plays he recognised the wit but condemned +the morals, and in the case of Blackmore the regard for the +religious purpose of Blackmore’s poem on “The +Creation” gave to Johnson, as to Addison, an undue sense of +its literary value.</p> +<p>With his “Life of Pope,” which occupies more than +two-thirds of this volume, Johnson took especial pains. +“He wrote it,” says Boswell, “‘<i>con +amore</i>,’ both from the early possession which that +writer had taken of his mind, and from the pleasure which he must +have felt in for ever silencing all attempts to lessen his +poetical fame. . . . I remember once to have heard Johnson say, +‘Sir, a thousand years may elapse before there shall appear +another man with a power of versification equal to that of +Pope.’”</p> +<p>Pope’s laurel, since Johnson’s days, has +flourished, without showing a dead bough, for all the frosts of +hostile criticism.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p> +<h2>PRIOR.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Matthew Prior</span> is one of those that +have burst out from an obscure original to great eminence. +He was born July 21, 1664, according to some, at Wimborne, in +Dorsetshire, of I know not what parents; others say that he was +the son of a joiner of London: he was perhaps willing enough to +leave his birth unsettled, in hope, like Don Quixote, that the +historian of his actions might find him some illustrious +alliance. He is supposed to have fallen, by his +father’s death, into the hands of his uncle, a vintner near +Charing Cross, who sent him for some time to Dr. Busby, at +Westminster; but, not intending to give him any education beyond +that of the school, took him, when he was well advanced in +literature, to his own house, where the Earl of Dorset, +celebrated for patronage of genius, found him by chance, as +Burnet relates, reading Horace, and was so well pleased with his +proficiency, that he undertook the care and cost of his +academical education. He entered his name in St. +John’s College, at Cambridge, in 1682, in his eighteenth +year; and it may be reasonably supposed that he was distinguished +among his contemporaries. He became a Bachelor, as is +usual, in four years, and two years afterwards wrote the poem on +the Deity, which stands first in his volume.</p> +<p>It is the established practice of that College to send every +year to the Earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred subjects, in +acknowledgment of a benefaction enjoyed by them from the bounty +of his ancestor. On this occasion were those verses +written, which, though nothing is said of their success, seem to +have recommended him to some notice; for his praise of the +countess’s music, and his lines on the famous picture of +Seneca, afford reason for imagining that he was more or less +conversant with that family.</p> +<p>The same year he published “The City Mouse and Country +Mouse,” to ridicule Dryden’s “Hind and +Panther,” in conjunction with Mr. Montague. There is +a story of great pain suffered, and of tears shed, on this +occasion by Dryden, who thought it hard that “an old man +should be so treated by those to whom he had always been +civil.” By tales like these is the envy raised by +superior abilities every day gratified. When they are +attacked every one hopes to see them humbled; what is hoped is +readily believed, and what is believed is confidently told. +Dryden had been more accustomed to hostilities than that such +enemies should break his quiet; and, if we can suppose him vexed, +it would be hard to deny him sense enough to conceal his +uneasiness.</p> +<p>“The City Mouse and Country Mouse” procured its +authors more solid advantages than the pleasure of fretting +Dryden, for they were both speedily preferred. Montague, +indeed, obtained the first notice with some degree of discontent, +as it seems, in Prior, who probably knew that his own part of the +performance was the best. He had not, however, much reason +to complain, for he came to London and obtained such notice that +(in 1691) he was sent to the Congress at the Hague as secretary +to the embassy. In this assembly of princes and nobles, to +which Europe has perhaps scarcely seen anything equal, was formed +the grand alliance against Louis, which at last did not produce +effects proportionate so the magnificence of the transaction.</p> +<p>The conduct of Prior, in this splendid initiation into public +business, was so pleasing to King William, that he made him one +of the gentlemen of his bedchamber; and he is supposed to have +passed some of the next years in the quiet cultivation of +literature and poetry.</p> +<p>The death of Queen Mary (in 1695) produced a subject for all +the writers—perhaps no funeral was ever so poetically +attended. Dryden, indeed, as a man discountenanced and +deprived, was silent; but scarcely any other maker of verses +omitted to bring his tribute of tuneful sorrow. An +emulation of elegy was universal. Mary’s praise was +not confined to the English language, but fills a great part of +the <i>Musæ Anglicanæ</i>.</p> +<p>Prior, who was both a poet and a courtier, was too diligent to +miss this opportunity of respect. He wrote a long ode, +which was presented to the king, by whom it was not likely to be +ever read. In two years he was secretary to another embassy +at the Treaty of Ryswick (in 1697), and next year had the same +office at the court of France, where he is said to have been +considered with great distinction. As he was one day +surveying the apartments at Versailles, being shown the +“Victories of Louis,” painted by Le Brun, and asked +whether the King of England’s palace had any such +decorations: “The monuments of my master’s +actions,” said he, “are to be seen everywhere but in +his own house.”</p> +<p>The pictures of Le Brun are not only in themselves +sufficiently ostentatious, but were explained by inscriptions so +arrogant, that Boileau and Racine thought it necessary to make +them more simple. He was in the following year at Leo with +the king, from whom, after a long audience, he carried orders to +England, and upon his arrival became Under Secretary of State in +the Earl of Jersey’s office, a post which he did not retain +long, because Jersey was removed, but he was soon made +Commissioner of Trade.</p> +<p>This year (1700) produced one of his longest and most splendid +compositions, the “Carmen Seculare,” in which he +exhausts all his powers of celebration. I mean not to +accuse him of flattery; he probably thought all that he writ, and +retained as much veracity as can be properly exacted from a poet +professedly encomiastic. King William supplied copious +materials for either verse or prose. His whole life had +been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent qualities +of steady resolution and personal courage. He was really in +Prior’s mind what he represents him in his verses; he +considered him as a hero, and was accustomed to say that he +praised others in compliance with the fashion, but that in +celebrating King William he followed his inclination. To +Prior, gratitude would dictate praise, which reason would not +refuse.</p> +<p>Among the advantages to arise from the future years of +William’s reign, he mentions a Society for Useful Arts, and +among them:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Some that with care true eloquence shall +teach,<br /> +And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech;<br /> +That from our writers distant realms may know<br /> + The thanks we to our monarchs owe,<br /> +And schools profess our tongue through every land<br /> +That has invoked his aid, or blessed his hand.”</p> +<p>Tickell, in his “Prospect of Peace,” has the same +hope of a new academy:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“In happy chains our daring language +bound,<br /> +Shall sport no more in arbitrary sound.”</p> +<p>Whether the similitude of those passages, which exhibit the +same thought on the same occasion, proceeded from accident or +imitation, is not easy to determine. Tickell might have +been impressed with his expectation by Swift’s +“Proposal for Ascertaining the English Language,” +then lately published.</p> +<p>In the Parliament that met in 1701 he was chosen +representative of East Grinstead. Perhaps it was about this +time that he changed his party, for he voted for the impeachment +of those lords who had persuaded the king to the Partition +Treaty, a treaty in which he himself had been ministerially +employed.</p> +<p>A great part of Queen Anne’s reign was a time of war, in +which there was little employment for negotiators, and Prior had, +therefore, leisure to make or to polish verses. When the +Battle of Blenheim called forth all the verse-men, Prior, among +the rest, took care to show his delight in the increasing honour +of his country by an epistle to Boileau. He published, soon +afterwards, a volume of poems, with the encomiastic character of +his deceased patron, the Earl of Dorset. It began with the +College exercise, and ended with the “Nutbrown +Maid.”</p> +<p>The Battle of Ramillies soon afterwards (in 1706) excited him +to another effort of poetry. On this occasion he had fewer +or less formidable rivals, and it would be not easy to name any +other composition produced by that event which is now +remembered.</p> +<p>Everything has its day. Through the reigns of William +and Anne no prosperous event passed undignified by poetry. +In the last war, when France was disgraced and overpowered in +every quarter of the globe, when Spain, coming to her assistance, +only shared her calamities, and the name of an Englishman was +reverenced through Europe, no poet was heard amidst the general +acclamation; the fame of our counsellors and heroes was entrusted +to the <i>Gazetteer</i>. The nation in time grew weary of +the war, and the queen grew weary of her ministers. The war +was burdensome, and the ministers were insolent. Harley and +his friends began to hope that they might, by driving the Whigs +from court and from power, gratify at once the queen and the +people. There was now a call for writers, who might convey +intelligence of past abuses, and show the waste of public money, +the unreasonable conduct of the allies, the avarice of generals, +the tyranny of minions, and the general danger of approaching +ruin. For this purpose a paper called the <i>Examiner</i> +was periodically published, written, as it happened, by any wit +of the party, and sometimes, as is said, by Mrs. Manley. +Some are owned by Swift; and one, in ridicule of Garth’s +verses to Godolphin upon the loss of his place, was written by +Prior, and answered by Addison, who appears to have known the +author either by conjecture or intelligence.</p> +<p>The Tories, who were now in power, were in haste to end the +war, and Prior, being recalled (1710) to his former employment of +making treaties, was sent (July, 1711) privately to Paris with +propositions of peace. He was remembered at the French +court; and, returning in about a month, brought with him the +Abbé Gaultier and M. Mesnager, a minister from France, +invested with full powers. This transaction not being +avowed, Mackay, the master of the Dover packet-boat, either +zealously or officiously, seized Prior and his associates at +Canterbury. It is easily supposed they were soon +released.</p> +<p>The negotiation was begun at Prior’s house, where the +queen’s ministers met Mesnager (September 20, 1711), and +entered privately upon the great business. The importance +of Prior appears from the mention made of him by St. John in his +letter to the queen:—</p> +<p>“My Lord Treasurer moved, and all my Lords were of the +same opinion, that Mr. Prior should be added to those who are +empowered to sign; the reason for which is because he, having +personally treated with Monsieur de Torcy, is the best witness we +can produce of the sense in which the general preliminary +engagements are entered into; besides which, as he is the best +versed in matters of trade of all your Majesty’s servants +who have been trusted in this secret, if you shall think fit to +employ him in the future treaty of commerce, it will be of +consequence that he has been a party concerned in concluding that +convention, which must be the rule of this treaty.”</p> +<p>The assembly of this important night was in some degree +clandestine, the design of treaty not being yet openly declared +and when the Whigs returned to power was aggravated to a charge +of high treason; though, as Prior remarks in his imperfect answer +to the Report of the Committee of Secrecy, no treaty ever was +made without private interviews and preliminary discussions.</p> +<p>My business is not the history of the peace, but the life of +Prior. The conferences began at Utrecht on the 1st of +January (1711–12), and the English plenipotentiaries +arrived on the 15th. The ministers of the different +potentates conferred and conferred; but the peace advanced so +slowly that speedier methods were found necessary, and +Bolingbroke was sent to Paris to adjust differences with less +formality. Prior either accompanied him or followed him, +and after his departure had the appointments and authority of an +ambassador, though no public character. By some mistake of +the queen’s orders the court of France had been disgusted, +and Bolingbroke says in his letter, “Dear Mat,—Hide +the nakedness of thy country, and give the best turn thy fertile +brain will furnish thee with to the blunders of thy countrymen, +who are not much better politicians than the French are +poets.”</p> +<p>Soon after, the Duke of Shrewsbury went on a formal embassy to +Paris. It is related by Boyer that the intention was to +have joined Prior in the commission, but that Shrewsbury refused +to be associated with a man so meanly born. Prior therefore +continued to act without a title till the duke returned next year +to England, and then he assumed the style and dignity of +ambassador. But while he continued in appearance a private +man, he was treated with confidence by Louis, who sent him with a +letter to the queen, written in favour of the Elector of +Bavaria. “I shall expect,” says he, “with +impatience, the return of Mr. Prior, whose conduct is very +agreeable to me.” And while the Duke of Shrewsbury +was still at Paris, Bolingbroke wrote to Prior +thus:—“Monsieur de Torcy has a confidence in you; +make use of it, once for all, upon this occasion, and convince +him thoroughly that we must give a different turn to our +Parliament and our people according to their resolution at this +crisis.”</p> +<p>Prior’s public dignity and splendour commenced in +August, 1713, and continued till the August following; but I am +afraid that, according to the usual fate of greatness, it was +attended with some perplexities and mortifications. He had +not all that is customarily given to ambassadors: he hints to the +queen in an imperfect poem that he had no service of plate; and +it appeared by the debts which he contracted that his remittances +were not punctually made.</p> +<p>On the 1st of August, 1714, ensued the downfall of the Tories +and the degradation of Prior. He was recalled, but was not +able to return, being detained by the debts which he had found it +necessary to contract, and which were not discharged before +March, though his old friend Montague was now at the head of the +Treasury. He returned, then, as soon as he could, and was +welcomed on the 25th of March by a warrant, but was, however, +suffered to live in his own house, under the custody of the +messenger, till he was examined before a committee of the Privy +Council, of which Mr. Walpole was chairman, and Lord Coningsby, +Mr. Stanhope, and Mr. Lechmere were the principal interrogators, +who, in this examination, of which there is printed an account +not unentertaining, behaved with the boisterousness of men elated +by recent authority. They are represented as asking +questions sometimes vague, sometimes insidious, and writing +answers different from those which they received. Prior, +however, seems to have been overpowered by their turbulence; for +he confesses that he signed what, if he had ever come before a +legal judicature, he should have contradicted or explained +away. The oath was administered by Boscawen, a Middlesex +justice, who at last was going to write his attestation on the +wrong side of the paper. They were very industrious to find +some charge against Oxford, and asked Prior, with great +earnestness, who was present when the preliminary articles were +talked of or signed at his house? He told them that either +the Earl of Oxford or the Duke of Shrewsbury was absent, but he +could not remember which, an answer which perplexed them, because +it supplied no accusation against either. “Could +anything be more absurd,” says he, “or more inhuman, +than to propose to me a question, by the answering of which I +might, according to them, prove myself a traitor? And +notwithstanding their solemn promise that nothing which I should +say should hurt myself, I had no reason to trust them, for they +violated that promise about five hours after. However, I +owned I was there present. Whether this was wisely done or +no I leave to my friends to determine.” When he had +signed the paper, he was told by Walpole that the committee were +not satisfied with his behaviour, nor could give such an account +of it to the Commons as might merit favour; and that they now +thought a stricter confinement necessary than to his own +house. “Here,” says he, “Boscawen played +the moralist, and Coningsby the Christian, but both very +awkwardly.” The messenger, in whose custody he was to +be placed, was then called, and very indecently asked by +Coningsby “if his house was secured by bars and +bolts.” The messenger answered, “No,” +with astonishment. At which Coningsby very angrily said, +“Sir, you must secure this prisoner; it is for the safety +of the nation: if he escape, you shall answer for it.”</p> +<p>They had already printed their report; and in this examination +were endeavouring to find proofs.</p> +<p>He continued thus confined for some time; and Mr. Walpole +(June 10, 1715) moved for an impeachment against him. What +made him so acrimonious does not appear; he was by nature no +thirster for blood. Prior was a week after committed to +close custody, with orders that “no person should be +admitted to see him without leave from the Speaker.” +When, two years after, an Act of Grace was passed, he was +excepted, and continued still in custody, which he had made less +tedious by writing his “Alma.” He was, however, +soon after discharged. He had now his liberty, but he had +nothing else. Whatever the profit of his employments might +have been, he had always spent it; and at the age of fifty-three +was, with all his abilities, in danger of penury, having yet no +solid revenue but from the fellowship of his college, which, when +in his exaltation he was censured for retaining it, he said he +could live upon at last. Being, however, generally known +and esteemed, he was encouraged to add other poems to those which +he had printed, and to publish them by subscription. The +expedient succeeded by the industry of many friends, who +circulated the proposals, and the care of some who, it is said, +withheld the money from him lest he should squander it. The +price of the volume was two guineas; the whole collection was +four thousand; to which Lord Harley, the son of the Earl of +Oxford, to whom he had invariably adhered, added an equal sum for +the purchase of Down Hall, which Prior was to enjoy during life, +and Harley after his decease. He had now, what wits and +philosophers have often wished, the power of passing the day in +contemplative tranquillity. But it seems that busy men +seldom live long in a state of quiet. It is not unlikely +that his health declined, he complains of deafness; +“for,” says he, “I took little care of my ears +while I was not sure if my head was my own.”</p> +<p>Of any occurrences of his remaining life I have found no +account. In a letter to Swift, “I have,” says +he, “treated Lady Harriet, at Cambridge (a Fellow of a +College treat!) and spoke verses to her in a gown and cap! +What, the plenipotentiary, so far concerned in the damned peace +at Utrecht; the man that makes up half the volume of terse prose, +that makes up the report of the committee, speaking verses! +<i>Sic est</i>, <i>homo sum</i>.”</p> +<p>He died at Wimpole, a seat of the Earl of Oxford, on the 18th +of September, 1721, and was buried in Westminster; where on a +monument, for which, as the “last piece of human +vanity,” he left five hundred pounds, is engraven this +epitaph:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">Sui Temporis Historiam +meditanti,<br /> +Paulatim obrepens Febris<br /> +Operi simul et Vitæ filum abrupit,<br /> +Sept. 18. An. Dom. 1721. Ætat. 57.<br /> +H.S.E.<br /> +Vir Eximius Serenissimis<br /> +Regi <span class="smcap">Gulielmo</span> Reginæque <span +class="smcap">Mariæ</span><br /> +In Congressione Fœderatorum<br /> +Hagæ anno 1690 celebrata,<br /> +Deinde Magnæ Britanniæ Legatis<br /> +Tum iis,<br /> +Qui anno 1697 Pacem <span class="smcap">Ryswicki</span> +confecerunt,<br /> +Tum iis,<br /> +Qui apud Gallos annie proximis Legationem obierunt<br /> +Eodem etiani anno 1657 in Hiberniâ<br /> +<span class="smcap">Secretarius</span>;<br /> +Necnon in utroque Honorabili consessu<br /> +Eorum,<br /> +Qui anno 1700 ordinandis Commercii negotiis,<br /> +Quique anno 1711 dirigendis Portorii rebus,<br /> +Præidebant,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Commissionarius</span>;<br /> +Postremo ab <span class="smcap">Anna</span>,<br /> +Felicissimæ memoriæ Reginâ,<br /> +Ad <span class="smcap">Ludovicum</span> XIV. Galliæ +Regem<br /> +Missus anno 1711<br /> +De Pace stabiliendâ<br /> +(Pace etiam num durante<br /> +Diuque ut boni jam omnes sperant duraturâ),<br /> +Cum sunmâ potestate Legatus;<br /> +MATTHÆS PRIOR Armiger<br /> +Qui<br /> +Hos omnes, quibus cumulates est, Titulos<br /> +Humanitatis, Ingenii, Ereditionis laude<br /> +Superavit;<br /> +Cui enim nascenti faciles arriserant Mesæ.<br /> +Hunc Puerum Schola hîc Regia perpolivit;<br /> +Jevenem in Collegio S’ti Johannis<br /> +Cantabrigia optimis Scientiis instruxit;<br /> +Virum denique auxit, et perfecit,<br /> +Multa cum viris Principibus censuetudo;<br /> +Ita natus, ita institutus,<br /> +A Vatam Choro avelli numquam potuit,<br /> +Sed solebat sæpe rerum civilium gravitatem<br /> +Amœniorum Literarum Studiis condire:<br /> +Et cum omne adeo Poeticës genus<br /> +Haud infeliciter tentaret,<br /> +Tum in Fabellis concinne lepideque texendis<br /> +Mirus Artifex<br /> +Neminem habuit parem.<br /> +Hæc liberalis animi oblectamenta:<br /> +Quam nullo illi labore constiterint,<br /> +Facile ii perspexêre, quibus usus est Amici;<br /> +Apud quos Urbanitatem et Leporum plenus<br /> +Cum ad rem, quæcunque forte inciderat,<br /> +Aptè varie copiosèque alluderet,<br /> +Interea nihil quæsitum, nihil vi expressum<br /> +Videbatur,<br /> +Sed omnia ultro effluere,<br /> +Et quasi jugi è foote affatim exuberare,<br /> +Ita suos tandem dubios reliquit,<br /> +Essetne in Scriptis, Poeta Elegantior,<br /> +An in Convictu, Comes Jocundior.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of Prior, eminent as he was, both by his abilities and +station, very few memorials have been left by his contemporaries; +the account, therefore, must now be destitute of his private +character and familiar practices. He lived at a time when +the rage of party detected all which it was any man’s +interest to hide; and, as little ill is heard of Prior, it is +certain that not much was known. He was not afraid of +provoking censure; for when he forsook the Whigs, under whose +patronage he first entered the world, he became a Tory so ardent +and determinate, that he did not willingly consort with men of +different opinions. He was one of the sixteen Tories who +met weekly, and agreed to address each other by the title of +<i>Brother</i>; and seems to have adhered, not only by +concurrence of political designs, but by peculiar affection, to +the Earl of Oxford and his family. With how much confidence +he was trusted has been already told.</p> +<p>He was, however, in Pope’s opinion, fit only to make +verses, and less qualified for business than Addison +himself. This was surely said without consideration. +Addison, exalted to a high place, was forced into degradation by +the sense of his own incapacity; Prior, who was employed by men +very capable of estimating his value, having been secretary to +one embassy, had, when great abilities were again wanted, the +same office another time; and was, after so much experience of +his own knowledge and dexterity, at last sent to transact a +negotiation in the highest degree arduous and important, for +which he was qualified, among other requisites, in the opinion of +Bolingbroke, by his influence upon the French minister, and by +skill in questions of commerce above other men.</p> +<p>Of his behaviour in the lighter parts of life, it is too late +to get much intelligence. One of his answers to a boastful +Frenchman has been related; and to an impertinent he made another +equally proper. During his embassy he sat at the opera by a +man who, in his rapture, accompanied with his own voice the +principal singer.</p> +<p>Prior fell to railing at the performer with all the terms of +reproach that he could collect, till the Frenchman, ceasing from +his song, began to expostulate with him for his harsh censure of +a man who was confessedly the ornament of the stage. +“I know all that,” says the ambassador, “mais +il chante si haut, que je ne sçaurois vous +entendre.”</p> +<p>In a gay French company, where every one sang a little song or +stanza, of which the burden was “Bannissons la +Mélancolie,” when it came to his turn to sing, after +the performance of a young lady that sat next him, he produced +these extemporary lines:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Mais cette voix, et ces beaux yeux,<br +/> +Font Cupidon trop dangereux,<br /> +Et je suis triste quand je crie<br /> +Bannissons la Mélancolie.”</p> +<p>Tradition represents him as willing to descend from the +dignity of the poet and statesman to the low delights of mean +company. His Chloe probably was sometimes ideal: but the +woman with whom he cohabited was a despicable drab of the lowest +species. One of his wenches, perhaps Chloe, while he was +absent from his house, stole his plate and ran away, as was +related by a woman who had been his servant. Of his +propensity to sordid converse, I have seen an account so +seriously ridiculous, that it seems to deserve insertion.</p> +<p>“I have been assured that Prior, after having spent the +evening with Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift, would go and +smoke a pipe and drink a bottle of ale with a common soldier and +his wife in Long Acre before he went to bed, not from any remains +of the lowness of his original, as one said, but I suppose that +his faculties—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘—strained to the height,<br +/> +In that celestial colloquy sublime,<br /> +Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought +repair.’”</p> +<p>Poor Prior; why was he so <i>strained</i>, and in such <i>want +of repair</i>, after a conversation with men not, in the opinion +of the world, much wiser than himself? But such are the +conceits of speculatists, who <i>strain</i> their +<i>faculties</i> to find in a mine what lies upon the +surface. His opinions, so far as the means of judging are +left us, seem to have been right; but his life was, it seems, +irregular, negligent, and sensual.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">Prior</span> has written with great +variety, and his variety has made him popular. He has tried +all styles, from the grotesque to the solemn, and has not so +failed in any as to incur derision or disgrace. His works +may be distinctly considered as comprising Tales, Love Verses, +Occasional Poems, “Alma,” and +“Solomon.”</p> +<p>His tales have obtained general approbation, being written +with great familiarity and great sprightliness; the language is +easy, but seldom gross, and the numbers smooth, without +appearance of care. Of these tales there are only four: +“The Ladle,” which is introduced by a preface, +neither necessary nor pleasing, neither grave nor merry. +“Paulo Purganti,” which has likewise a preface, but +of more value than the tale. “Hans Carvel,” not +over-decent; and “Protogenes and Apelles,” an old +story mingled, by an affectation not disagreeable, with modern +images. “The Young Gentleman in Love” has +hardly a just claim to the title of a tale. I know not +whether he be the original author of any tale which he has given +us. The adventure of Hans Carvel has passed through many +successions of merry wits, for it is to be found in +Ariosto’s “Satires,” and is perhaps yet +older. But the merit of such stories is the art of telling +them.</p> +<p>In his amorous effusions he is less happy; for they are not +dictated by nature or by passion, and have neither gallantry nor +tenderness. They have the coldness of Cowley, without his +wit, the dull exercises of a skilful versifier, resolved at all +adventures to write something about Chloe, and trying to be +amorous by dint of study. His fictions, therefore, are +mythological. Venus, after the example of the Greek +epigram, asks when she was seen <i>naked and bathing</i>. +Then Cupid is <i>mistaken</i>; then Cupid is <i>disarmed</i>; +then he loses his darts to Ganymede; then Jupiter sends him a +summons by Mercury. Then Chloe goes a-hunting with an +<i>ivory quiver graceful at her side</i>; Diana mistakes her for +one of her nymphs, and Cupid laughs at the blunder. All +this is surely despicable; and even when he tries to act the +lover without the help of gods or goddesses, his thoughts are +unaffecting or remote. He talks not “like a man of +this world.”</p> +<p>The greatest of all his amorous essays is “Henry and +Emma,” a dull and tedious dialogue, which excites neither +esteem for the man nor tenderness for the woman. The +example of Emma, who resolves to follow an outlawed murderer +wherever fear and guilt shall drive him, deserves no imitation; +and the experiment by which Henry tries the lady’s +constancy is such as must end either in infamy to her or in +disappointment to himself.</p> +<p>His occasional poems necessarily lost part of their value, as +their occasions, being less remembered, raised less emotion, Some +of them, however, are preserved by their inherent +excellence. The burlesque of Boileau’s ode on Namur +has in some parts such airiness and levity as will always procure +it readers, even among those who cannot compare it with the +original. The epistle to Boileau is not so happy. The +“Poems to the King,” are now perused only by young +students, who read merely that they may learn to write; and of +the “Carmen Seculare,” I cannot but suspect that I +might praise or censure it by caprice without danger of +detection; for who can be supposed to have laboured through +it? Yet the time has been when this neglected work was so +popular that it was translated into Latin by no common +master.</p> +<p>His poem on the Battle of Ramillies is necessarily tedious by +the form of the stanza. An uniform mass of ten lines +thirty-five times repeated, inconsequential and slightly +connected, must weary both the ear and the understanding. +His imitation of Spenser, which consists principally in <i>I +ween</i> and <i>I weet</i>, without exclusion of later modes of +speech, makes his poem neither ancient nor modern. His +mention of Mars and Bellona, and his comparison of Marlborough to +the eagle that bears the thunder of Jupiter, are all puerile and +unaffecting; and yet more despicable is the long tale told by +Louis in his despair of Brute and Troynovante, and the teeth of +Cadmus, with his similes of the raven and eagle and wolf and +lion. By the help of such easy fictions and vulgar topics, +without acquaintance with life, and without knowledge of art or +nature, a poem of any length, cold and lifeless like this, may be +easily written on any subject.</p> +<p>In his epilogues to Phædra and to Lucius he is very +happily facetious; but in the prologue before the queen the +pedant has found his way with Minerva, Perseus, and +Andromeda.</p> +<p>His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others, +sometimes elegant, sometimes trifling, and sometimes dull; among +the best are the “Chamelion” and the epitaph on John +and Joan.</p> +<p>Scarcely any one of our poets has written so much and +translated so little: the version of Callimachus is sufficiently +licentious; the paraphrase on St. Paul’s Exhortation to +Charity is eminently beautiful.</p> +<p>“Alma” is written in professed imitation of +“Hudibras,” and has at least one accidental +resemblance: “Hudibras” wants a plan because it is +left imperfect; “Alma” is imperfect because it seems +never to have had a plan. Prior appears not to have +proposed to himself any drift or design, but to have written the +casual dictates of the present moment.</p> +<p>What Horace said when he imitated Lucilius, might be said of +Butler by Prior; his numbers were not smooth nor neat. +Prior excelled him in versification; but he was, like Horace, +<i>inventore minor</i>; he had not Butler’s exuberance of +matter and variety of illustration. The spangles of wit +which he could afford he knew how to polish; but he wanted the +bullion of his master. Butler pours out a negligent +profusion, certain of the weight, but careless of the +stamp. Prior has comparatively little, but with that little +he makes a fine show. “Alma” has many admirers, +and was the only piece among Prior’s works of which Pope +said that he should wish to be the author.</p> +<p>“Solomon” is the work to which he entrusted the +protection of his name, and which he expected succeeding ages to +regard with veneration. His affection was natural; it had +undoubtedly been written with great labour; and who is willing to +think that he has been labouring in vain? He had infused +into it much knowledge and much thought; had often polished it to +elegance, often dignified it with splendour, and sometimes +heightened it to sublimity: he perceived in it many excellences, +and did not discover that it wanted that without which all others +are of small avail—the power of engaging attention and +alluring curiosity.</p> +<p>Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negligence or +errors are single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole; +other faults are censured and forgotten, but the power of +tediousness propagates itself. He that is weary the first +hour is more weary the second, as bodies forced into motion, +contrary to their tendency, pass more and more slowly through +every successive interval of space. Unhappily this +pernicious failure is that which an author is least able to +discover. We are seldom tiresome to ourselves; and the act +of composition fills and delights the mind with change of +language and succession of images. Every couplet, when +produced, is new, and novelty is the great source of +pleasure. Perhaps no man ever thought a line superfluous +when he first wrote it, or contracted his work till his +ebullitions of invention had subsided. And even if he +should control his desire of immediate renown, and keep his work +<i>nine years</i> unpublished, he will be still the author, and +still in danger of deceiving himself: and if he consults his +friends he will probably find men who have more kindness than +judgment, or more fear to offend than desire to instruct. +The tediousness of this poem proceeds not from the uniformity of +the subject, for it is sufficiently diversified, but from the +continued tenor of the narration; in which Solomon relates the +successive vicissitudes of his own mind without the intervention +of any other speaker or the mention of any other agent, unless it +be Abra; the reader is only to learn what he thought, and to be +told that he thought wrong. The event of every experiment +is foreseen, and therefore the process is not much +regarded. Yet the work is far from deserving to be +neglected. He that shall peruse it will be able to mark +many passages to which he may recur for instruction or delight; +many from which the poet may learn to write and the philosopher +to reason.</p> +<p>If Prior’s poetry be generally considered, his praise +will be that of correctness and industry, rather than of compass +of comprehension or activity of fancy. He never made any +effort of invention: his greater pieces are only tissues of +common thoughts; and his smaller, which consist of light images +or single conceits, are not always his own. I have traced +him among the French epigrammatists, and have been informed that +he poached for prey among obscure authors. The “Thief +and Cordelier” is, I suppose, generally considered as an +original production, with how much justice this epigram may tell, +which was written by Georgius Sabinus, a poet now little known or +read, though once the friend of Luther and Melancthon:—</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">“De +<i>Sacerdote Furem consolante</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus +euntem<br /> + Huc ubi dat sontes carnificina neci.<br /> +Ne sis mœstus, ait; summi conviva Tonantis<br /> + Jam cum coelitibus (si modo credis) eris.<br /> +Ille gemens, si vera mihi solatia præbes,<br /> + Hospes apud superos sis meus oro, refert.<br /> +Sacrificus contra; mihi non convivia fas est<br /> + Ducere, jejunas hac edo luce nihil.”</p> +<p>What he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his +judgment. His diligence has justly placed him amongst the +most correct of the English poets; and he was one of the first +that resolutely endeavoured at correctness. He never +sacrifices accuracy to haste, nor indulges himself in +contemptuous negligence, or impatient idleness; he has no +careless lines, or entangled sentiments; his words are nicely +selected, and his thoughts fully expanded. If this part of +his character suffers an abatement, it must be from the +disproportion of his rhymes, which have not always sufficient +consonance, and from the admission of broken lines into his +“Solomon;” but perhaps he thought, like Cowley, that +hemistichs ought to be admitted into heroic poetry.</p> +<p>He had apparently such rectitude of judgment as secured him +from everything that approached to the ridiculous or absurd; but +as law operates in civil agency, not to the excitement of virtue, +but the repression of wickedness, so judgment in the operations +of intellect can hinder faults, but not produce excellence. +Prior is never low, nor very often sublime. It is said by +Longinus of Euripides, that he forces himself sometimes into +grandeur by violence of effort, as the lion kindles his fury by +the lashes of his own tail. Whatever Prior obtains above +mediocrity seems the effort of struggle and of toil. He has +many vigorous, but few happy lines; he has everything by +purchase, and nothing by gift; he had no <i>nightly +visitations</i> of the Muse, no infusions of sentiment or +felicities of fancy. His diction, however, is more his own +than of any among the successors of Dryden; he borrows no lucky +turns, or commodious modes of language, from his +predecessors. His phrases are original, but they are +sometimes harsh; as he inherited no elegances, none has he +bequeathed. His expression has every mark of laborious +study, the line seldom seems to have been formed at once; the +words did not come till they were called, and were then put by +constraint into their places, where they do their duty, but do it +sullenly. In his greater compositions there may be found +more rigid stateliness than graceful dignity.</p> +<p>Of versification he was not negligent. What he received +from Dryden he did not lose; neither did he increase the +difficulty of writing by unnecessary severity, but uses triplets +and alexandrines without scruple. In his preface to +“Solomon” he proposes some improvements by extending +the sense from one couplet to another with variety of +pauses. This he has attempted, but without success; his +interrupted lines are unpleasing, and his sense, as less +distinct, is less striking. He has altered the stanza of +Spenser as a house is altered by building another in its place of +a different form. With how little resemblance he has formed +his new stanza to that of his master these specimens will +show:—</p> +<p style="text-align: center">SPENSER.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “She flying fast from +Heaven’s fated face,<br /> +And from the world that her discovered wide,<br /> +Fled to the wasteful wilderness space,<br /> +From living eyes her open shame to hide,<br /> +And lurked in rocks and caves long unespied.<br /> +But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair,<br /> +Did in that castle afterwards abide,<br /> +To rest themselves, and weary powers repair,<br /> +Where store they found of all that dainty was and +rare?”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">PRIOR.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “To the close rock the +frightened raven flies,<br /> +Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air;<br /> +The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies,<br /> +When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near.<br /> +Ill-starred did we our forts and lines forsake,<br /> +To dare our British foes to open fight:<br /> +Our conquest we by stratagem should make;<br /> +Our triumph had been founded in our flight.<br /> +’Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain;<br /> +’Tis theirs to meet in arms, and battle in the +plain.”</p> +<p>By this new structure of his lines he has avoided +difficulties; nor am I sure that he has lost any of the power of +pleasing, but he no longer imitates Spencer. Some of his +poems are written without regularity of measures; for, when he +commenced poet, he had not recovered from our Pindaric +infatuation; but he probably lived to be convinced that the +essence of verse is order and consonance. His numbers are +such as mere diligence may attain; they seldom offend the ear, +and seldom soothe it; they commonly want airiness, lightness, and +facility. What is smooth is not soft. His verses +always roll, but they seldom flow.</p> +<p>A survey of the life and writings of Prior may exemplify a +sentence which he doubtless understood well when he read Horace +at his uncle’s, “The vessel long retains the scent +which it first receives.” In his private relaxation +he revived the tavern, and in his amorous pedantry he exhibited +the college. But on higher occasions and nobler subjects, +when habit was overpowered by the necessity of reflection, he +wanted not wisdom as a statesman, or elegance as a poet.</p> +<h2>CONGREVE.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">William Congreve</span> descended from a +family in Staffordshire of so great antiquity, that it claims a +place among the few that extend their hue beyond the Norman +Conquest, and was the son of William Congreve, second son of +Richard Congreve, of Congreve and Stratton. He visited, +once at least, the residence of his ancestors; and, I believe, +more places than one are still shown in groves and gardens, where +he is related to have written his <i>Old Bachelor</i>.</p> +<p>Neither the time nor place of his birth is certainly +known. If the inscription upon his monument be true, he was +born in 1672. For the place, it was said by himself that he +owed his nativity to England, and by everybody else that he was +born in Ireland. Southern mentioned him with sharp censure +as a man that meanly disowned his native country. The +biographers assigned his nativity to Bardsa, near Leeds, in +Yorkshire, from the account given by himself, as they suppose, to +Jacob. To doubt whether a man of eminence has told the +truth about his own birth is, in appearance, to be very deficient +in candour; yet nobody can live long without knowing that +falsehoods of convenience or vanity, falsehoods from which no +evil immediately visible ensues, except the general degradation +of human testimony, are very lightly uttered, and once uttered +are sullenly supported. Boileau, who desired to be thought +a rigorous and steady moralist, having told a pretty lie to Louis +XIV., continued it afterwards by false dates; thinking himself +obliged <i>in honour</i>, says his admirer, to maintain what, +when he said it, was so well received. [Congreve was +baptised at Bardsey, February 10, 1670.]</p> +<p>Wherever Congreve was born, he was educated first at Kilkenny, +and afterwards at Dublin, his father having some military +employment that stationed him in Ireland; but after having passed +through the usual preparatory studies, as may be reasonably +supposed, with great celerity and success, his father thought it +proper to assign him a profession, by which something might be +gotten, and about the time of the Revolution sent him, at the age +of sixteen, to study law in the Middle Temple, where he lived for +several years, but with very little attention to statutes or +reports. His disposition to become an author appeared very +early, as he very early felt that force of imagination, and +possessed that copiousness of sentiment, by which intellectual +pleasure can be given. His first performance was a novel +called “Incognita; or, Love and Duty Reconciled;” it +is praised by the biographers, who quote some part of the +preface, that is, indeed, for such a time of life, uncommonly +judicious. I would rather praise it than read it.</p> +<p>His first dramatic labour was <i>The Old Bachelor</i>, of +which he says, in his defence against Collier, “That comedy +was written, as several know, some years before it was +acted. When I wrote it I had little thoughts of the stage; +but did it to amuse myself in a slow recovery from a fit of +sickness. Afterwards, through my indiscretion it was seen, +and in some little time more it was acted; and I, through the +remainder of my indiscretion suffered myself to be drawn into the +prosecution of a difficult and thankless study, and to be +involved in a perpetual war with knaves and fools.”</p> +<p>There seems to be a strange affectation in authors of +appearing to have done everything by chance. <i>The Old +Bachelor</i> was written for amusement in the languor of +convalescence. Yet it is apparently composed with great +elaborateness of dialogue, and incessant ambition of wit. +The age of the writer considered, it is indeed a very wonderful +performance; for, whenever written, it was acted (1693) when he +was not more than twenty-one years old; and was then recommended +by Mr. Dryden, Mr. Southern, and Mr. Maynwaring. Dryden +said that he never had seen such a first play; but they found it +deficient in some things necessary to the success of its +exhibition, and by their greater experience fitted it for the +stage. Southern used to relate of one comedy, probably of +this, that when Congreve read it to the players he pronounced it +so wretchedly, that they had almost rejected it; but they were +afterwards so well persuaded of its excellence that, for half a +year before it was acted, the manager allowed its author the +privilege of the house.</p> +<p>Few plays have ever been so beneficial to the writer, for it +procured him the patronage of Halifax, who immediately made him +one of the commissioners for licensing coaches, and soon after +gave him a place in the Pipe-office, and another in the Customs, +of six hundred pounds a year. Congreve’s conversation +must surely have been at least equally pleasing with his +writings.</p> +<p>Such a comedy, written at such an age, requires some +consideration. As the lighter species of dramatic poetry +professes the imitation of common life, of real manners, and +daily incidents, it apparently presupposes a familiar knowledge +of many characters, and exact observation of the passing world; +the difficulty, therefore, is to conceive how this knowledge can +be obtained by a boy.</p> +<p>But if <i>The Old Bachelor</i> be more nearly examined, it +will be found to be one of those comedies which may be made by a +mind vigorous and acute, and furnished with comic characters by +the perusal of other poets, without much actual commerce with +mankind. The dialogue is one constant reciprocation of +conceits or clash of wit, in which nothing flows necessarily from +the occasion, or is dictated by nature. The characters, +both of men and women, are either fictitious and artificial, as +those of Heartwell and the ladies, or easy and common, as Wittol, +a tame idiot; Bluff, a swaggering coward; and Fondlewife, a +jealous Puritan; and the catastrophe arises from a mistake, not +very probably produced, by marrying a woman in a mask. Yet +this gay comedy, when all these deductions are made, will still +remain the work of very powerful and fertile faculties; the +dialogue is quick and sparkling, the incidents such as seize the +attention, and the wit so exuberant that it +“o’er-informs its tenement.”</p> +<p>Next year he gave another specimen of his abilities in <i>The +Double Dealer</i>, which was not received with equal +kindness. He writes to his patron the Lord Halifax a +dedication, in which he endeavours to reconcile the reader to +that which found few friends among the audience. These +apologies are always useless: <i>de gestibus non est +disputandem</i>. Men may be convinced, but they cannot be +pleased, against their will. But though taste is obstinate, +it is very variable, and time often prevails when arguments have +failed. Queen Mary conferred upon both those plays the +honour of her presence; and when she died soon after, Congreve +testified his gratitude by a despicable effusion of elegiac +pastoral, a composition in which all is unnatural and yet nothing +is new.</p> +<p>In another year (1695) his prolific pen produced <i>Love for +Love</i>, a comedy of nearer alliance to life, and exhibiting +more real manners, than either of the former. The character +of Foresight was then common. Dryden calculated nativities; +both Cromwell and King William had their lucky days; and +Shaftesbury himself, though he had no religion, was said to +regard predictions. The Sailor is not accounted very +natural, but he is very pleasant. With this play was opened +the New Theatre, under the direction of Betterton, the tragedian, +where he exhibited two years afterwards (1687) <i>The Mourning +Bride</i>, a tragedy, so written as to show him sufficiently +qualified for either kind of dramatic poetry. In this play, +of which, when he afterwards revised it, he reduced the +versification to greater regularity; there is more bustle than +sentiment; the plot is busy and intricate, and the events take +hold on the attention; but, except a very few passages, we are +rather amused with noise and perplexed with stratagem, than +entertained with any true delineation of natural +characters. This, however, was received with more +benevolence than any other of his works, and still continues to +be acted and applauded.</p> +<p>But whatever objections may be made either to his comic or +tragic excellence, they are lost at once in the blaze of +admiration, when it is remembered that he had produced these four +plays before he had passed his twenty-fifth year, before other +men, even such as are some time to shine in eminence, have passed +their probation of literature, or presume to hope for any other +notice than such as is bestowed on diligence and inquiry. +Among all the efforts of early genius, which literary history +records, I doubt whether any one can be produced that more +surpasses the common limits of nature than the plays of +Congreve.</p> +<p>About this time began the long-continued controversy between +Collier and the poets. In the reign of Charles I. the +Puritans had raised a violent clamour against the drama, which +they considered as an entertainment not lawful to Christians, an +opinion held by them in common with the Church of Rome; and +Prynne published “Histriomastix,” a huge volume in +which stage-plays were censured. The outrages and crimes of +the Puritans brought afterwards their whole system of doctrine +into disrepute, and from the Restoration the poets and players +were left at quiet; for to have molested them would have had the +appearance of tendency to puritanical malignity. This +danger, however, was worn away by time, and Collier, a fierce and +implacable non-juror, knew that an attack upon the theatre would +never make him suspected for a Puritan; he therefore (1698) +published “A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness +of the English Stage,” I believe with no other motive than +religious zeal and honest indignation. He was formed for a +controvertist, with sufficient learning, with diction vehement +and pointed, though often vulgar and incorrect, with +unconquerable pertinacity, with wit in the highest degree and +sarcastic, and with all those powers exalted and invigorated by +just confidence in his cause. Thus qualified and thus +incited, he walked out to battle, and assailed at once most of +the living writers, from Dryden to Durfey. His onset was +violent; those passages, which, while they stood single, had +passed with little notice, when they were accumulated and exposed +together, excited horror. The wise and the pious caught the +alarm, and the nation wondered why it had so long suffered +irreligion and licentiousness to be openly taught at the public +charge.</p> +<p>Nothing now remained for the poets but to resist or fly. +Dryden’s conscience or his prudence, angry as he was, +withheld him from the conflict. Congreve and Vanbrugh +attempted answers. Congreve, a very young man, elated with +success, and impatient of censure, assumed an air of confidence +and security. His chief art of controversy is to retort +upon his adversary his own words: he is very angry, and hoping to +conquer Collier with his own weapons, allows himself in the use +of every term of contumely and contempt, but he has the sword +without the arm of Scanderbeg; he has his antagonist’s +coarseness but not his strength. Collier replied, for +contest was his delight. “He was not to be frighted +from his purpose or his prey.”</p> +<p>The cause of Congreve was not tenable; whatever glosses he +might use for the defence or palliation of single passages, the +general tenour and tendency of his plays must always be +condemned. It is acknowledged, with universal conviction, +that the perusal of his works will make no man better, and that +their ultimate effect is to represent pleasure in alliance with +vice, and to relax those obligations by which life ought to be +regulated.</p> +<p>The stage found other advocates, and the dispute was +protracted through ten years: but at last comedy grew more +modest, and Collier lived to see the reformation of the +theatre.</p> +<p>Of the powers by which this important victory was achieved, a +quotation from <i>Love for Love</i>, and the remark upon it, may +afford a specimen:—</p> +<p><i>Sir Samps</i>. “Sampson’s a very good +name; for your Sampsons were strong dogs from the +beginning.”</p> +<p><i>Angel</i>. “Have a care—if you remember, +the strongest Sampson of your name pulled an old house over his +head at last.”</p> +<p>“Here you have the sacred history burlesqued, and +Sampson once more brought into the house of Dagon, to make sport +for the Philistines!”</p> +<p>Congreve’s last play was <i>The Way of The World</i>, +which, though, as he hints in him dedication it was written with +great labour and much thought, was received with so little +favour, that being in a high degree offended and disgusted, he +resolved to commit his quiet and his fame no more to the caprices +of an audience.</p> +<p>From this time his life ceased to be public; he lived for +himself and his friends, and among his friends was able to name +every man of his time whom wit and elegance had raised to +reputation. It may be therefore reasonably supposed that +his manners were polite, and his conversation pleasing. He +seems not to have taken much pleasure in writing, as he +contributed nothing to the <i>Spectator</i>, and only one paper +to the <i>Tatler</i>, though published by men with whom he might +be supposed willing to associate: and though he lived many years +after the publication of his “Miscellaneous Poems,” +yet he added nothing to them, but lived on in literary indolence, +engaged in no controversy, contending with no rival, neither +soliciting flattery by public commendations, nor provoking enmity +by malignant criticism, but passing his time among the great and +splendid, in the placid enjoyment of his fame and fortune.</p> +<p>Having owed his fortune to Halifax, he continued, always of +his patron’s party, but, as it seems, without violence or +acrimony, and his firmness was naturally esteemed, as his +abilities were reverenced. His security therefore was never +violated; and when, upon the extrusion of the Whigs, some +intercession was used lest Congreve should be displaced, the Earl +of Oxford made this answer:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora +Pœni,<br /> +Nec tam aversus equos Tyriâ sol jungit ab urbe.”</p> +<p>He that was thus honoured by the adverse party might naturally +expect to be advanced when his friends returned to power, and he +was accordingly made secretary for the island of Jamaica, a +place, I suppose without trust or care, but which, with his post +in the Customs, is said to have afforded him twelve hundred +pounds a year. His honours were yet far greater than his +profits. Every writer mentioned him with respect, and among +other testimonies to his merit, Steele made him the patron of his +“Miscellany,” and Pope inscribed to him his +translations of the “Iliad.” But he treated the +muses with ingratitude; for, having long conversed familiarly +with the great, he wished to be considered rather as a man of +fashion than of wit; and, when he received a visit from Voltaire, +disgusted him by the despicable foppery of desiring to be +considered not as an author but a gentleman; to which the +Frenchman replied, “that, if he had been only a gentleman, +he should not have come to visit him.”</p> +<p>In his retirement he may be supposed to have applied himself +to books, for he discovers more literature than the poets have +commonly attained. But his studies were in his later days +obstructed by cataracts in his eyes, which at last terminated in +blindness. This melancholy state was aggravated by the +gout, for which he sought relief by a journey to Bath: but, being +overturned in his chariot, complained from that time of a pain in +his side, and died at his house in Surrey Street in the Strand, +January 29, 1728–9. Having lain in state in the +Jerusalem Chamber, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a +monument is erected to his memory by Henrietta Duchess of +Marlborough, to whom, for reasons either not known or not +mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of about ten thousand pounds, +the accumulation of attentive parsimony, which, though to her +superfluous and useless, might have given great assistance to the +ancient family from which he descended, at that time, by the +imprudence of his relation, reduced to difficulties and +distress.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">Congreve</span> has merit of the highest +kind; he is an original writer, who borrowed neither the models +of his plot nor the manner of his dialogue. Of his plays I +cannot speak distinctly, for since I inspected them many years +have passed, but what remains upon my memory is, that his +characters are commonly fictitious and artificial, with very +little of nature, and not much of life. He formed a +peculiar idea of comic excellence, which he supposed to consist +in gay remarks and unexpected answers; but that which he +endeavoured, he seldom failed of performing. His scenes +exhibit not much of humour, imagery, or passion: his personages +are a kind of intellectual gladiators; every sentence is to ward +or strike; the contest of smartness is never intermitted; his wit +is a meteor playing to and fro with alternate coruscations. +His comedies have, therefore, in some degree, the operation of +tragedies, they surprise rather than divert, and raise admiration +oftener than merriment. But they are the works of a mind +replete with images, and quick in combination.</p> +<p>Of his miscellaneous poetry I cannot say anything very +favourable. The powers of Congreve seem to desert him when +he leaves the stage, as Antæus was no longer strong than +when he could touch the ground. It cannot be observed +without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and fertile in dramatic +compositions should on any other occasion discover nothing but +impotence and poverty. He has in these little pieces +neither elevation of fancy, selection of language, nor skill in +versification: yet, if I were required to select from the whole +mass of English poetry the most poetical paragraph, I know not +what I could prefer to an exclamation in the “Mourning +Bride”:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">ALMERIA.</p> +<p> It was a fancied noise; for all is +hushed.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">LEONORA.</p> +<p> It bore the accent of a human voice.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">ALMERIA.</p> +<p> It was thy fear, or else some transient +wind<br /> +Whistling through hollows of this vaulted isle:<br /> +We’ll listen—</p> +<p style="text-align: center">LEONORA.</p> +<p> Hark!</p> +<p style="text-align: center">ALMERIA.</p> +<p> No, all is hushed and still as +death.—’Tis dreadful!<br /> +How reverend is the face of this tall pile,<br /> +Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,<br /> +To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,<br /> +By its own weight made steadfast and immovable,<br /> +Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe<br /> +And terror on my aching sight; the tombs<br /> +And monumental caves of death look cold,<br /> +And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.<br /> +Give use thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;<br /> +Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear<br /> +Thy voice—my own affrights me with its echoes.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a +poet; he feels what he remembers to have felt before, but he +feels it with great increase of sensibility; he recognises a +familiar image, but meets it again amplified and expanded, +embellished with beauty and enlarged with majesty. Yet +could the author, who appears here to have enjoyed the confidence +of Nature, lament the death of Queen Mary in lines like +these:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“The rocks are cleft, and new-descending +rills<br /> +Furrow the brows of all the impending hills.<br /> +The water-gods to floods their rivulets turn,<br /> +And each, with streaming eyes, supplies his wanting urn.<br /> +The fauns forsake the woods, the nymphs the grove,<br /> +And round the plain in sad distractions rove:<br /> +In prickly brakes their tender limbs they tear,<br /> +And leave on thorns their locks of golden hair.<br /> +With their sharp nails, themselves the satyrs wound,<br /> +And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with grief the ground.<br +/> +Lo Pan himself, beneath a blasted oak,<br /> +Dejected lies, his pipe in pieces broke<br /> +See Pales weeping too in wild despair,<br /> +And to the piercing winds her bosses bare.<br /> +And see yon fading myrtle, where appears<br /> +The Queen of Love, all bathed in flowing tears;<br /> +See how she wrings her hands, and beats her breast,<br /> +And tears her useless girdle from her waist:<br /> +Hear the sad murmurs of her sighing doves!<br /> +For grief they sigh, forgetful of their loves.”</p> +<p>And many years after he gave no proof that time had improved +his wisdom or his wit, for, on the death of the Marquis of +Blandford, this was his song:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“And now the winds, which had so long +been still,<br /> +Began the swelling air with sighs to fill;<br /> +The water-nymphs, who motionless remained<br /> +Like images of ice, while she complained,<br /> +Now loosed their streams; as when descending rains<br /> +Roll the steep torrents headlong o’er the plains.<br /> +The prone creation who so long had gazed<br /> +Charmed with her cries, and at her griefs amazed,<br /> +Began to roar and howl with horrid yell,<br /> +Dismal to hear, and terrible to tell!<br /> +Nothing but groans and sighs were heard around,<br /> +And echo multiplied each mournful sound.”</p> +<p>In both these funeral poems, when he has <i>yelled</i> out +many <i>syllables</i> of senseless <i>dolour</i>, he dismisses +his reader with senseless consolation. From the grave of +Pastora rises a light that forms a star, and where Amaryllis wept +for Amyntas from every tear sprung up a violet. But William +is his hero, and of William he will sing:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“The hovering winds on downy wings shall +wait around,<br /> +And catch, and waft to foreign lands, the flying +sound.”</p> +<p>It cannot but be proper to show what they shall have to catch +and carry:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“’Twas now, when flowery lawns the +prospect made,<br /> +And flowing brooks beneath a forest shade,<br /> +A lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd,<br /> +Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepared<br /> +Their arméd heads for light, by fate of war to prove<br /> +The victor worthy of the fair one’s love;<br /> +Unthought presage of what met next my view;<br /> +For soon the shady scene withdrew.<br /> +And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers,<br /> +Behold a town arise, bulwarked with walls and lofty towers;<br /> +Two rival armies all the plain o’erspread,<br /> +Each in battalia ranged, and shining arms arrayed<br /> +With eagle eyes beholding both from far,<br /> +Namur, the price and mistress of the war.”</p> +<p>The “Birth of the Muse” is a miserable +fiction. One good line it has which was borrowed from +Dryden. The concluding verses are these:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“This said, no more remained. The +ethereal host<br /> +Again impatient crowd the crystal coast.<br /> +The father now, within his spacious hands,<br /> +Encompassed all the mingled mass of seas and lands;<br /> +And, having heaved aloft the ponderous sphere,<br /> +He launched the world to float in ambient air.”</p> +<p>Of his irregular poems, that to Mrs. Arabella Hunt seems to be +the best; his Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day, however, had some +lines which Pope had in his mind when he wrote his own. His +imitations of Horace are feebly paraphrastical, and the additions +which he makes are of little value. He sometimes retains +what were more properly omitted, as when he talks of +<i>vervain</i> and <i>gums</i> to propitiate Venus.</p> +<p>Of his Translations, the “Satire of Juvenal” was +written very early, and may therefore be forgiven, though it had +not the massiness and vigour of the original. In all his +versions strength and sprightliness are wanting; his “Hymn +to Venus,” from Homer, is perhaps the best. His lines +are weakened with expletives, and his rhymes are frequently +imperfect. His petty poems are seldom worth the cost of +criticism; sometimes the thoughts are false and sometimes +common. In his verses on Lady Gethin, the latter part is in +imitation of Dryden’s ode on Mrs. Killigrew; and +“Doris,” that has been so lavishly flattered by +Steele, has indeed some lively stanzas, but the expression might +be mended, and the most striking part of the character had been +already shown in “Love for Love.” His +“Art of Pleasing” is founded on a vulgar, but perhaps +impracticable principle, and the staleness of the sense is not +concealed by any novelty of illustration or elegance of +diction. This tissue of poetry, from which he seems to have +hoped a lasting name, is totally neglected, and known only as it +is appended to his plays.</p> +<p>While comedy or while tragedy is regarded, his plays are +likely to be read; but, except what relates to the stage, I know +not that he has ever written a stanza that is sung, or a couplet +that is quoted. The general character of his +“Miscellanies” is that they show little wit and +little virtue. Yet to him it must be confessed that we are +indebted for the connection of a national error, and for the cure +of our Pindaric madness. He first taught the English +writers that Pindar’s odes were regular; and though +certainly he had not the lire requisite for the higher species of +lyric poetry, he has shown us that enthusiasm has its rules, and +that in mere confusion there is neither grace nor greatness.</p> +<h2>BLACKMORE.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Richard Blackmore</span> is one of +those men whose writings have attracted much notice, but of whose +life and manners very little has been communicated, and whose lot +it has been to be much oftener mentioned by enemies than by +friends. He was the son of Robert Blackmore, of Corsham in +Wiltshire, styled by Wood <i>Gentleman</i>, and supposed to have +been an attorney, having been for some time educated in a country +school, he was at thirteen sent to Westminster, and in 1668 was +entered at Edmund Hall in Oxford, where he took the degree of MA. +June 8, 1676, and resided thirteen years, a much longer time than +is usual to spend at the university, and which he seems to have +passed with very little attention to the business of the place; +for, in his poems, the ancient names of nations or places, which +he often introduces, are pronounced by chance. He +afterwards travelled. At Padua he was made doctor of +physic, and, after having wandered about a year and a half on the +Continent, returned home.</p> +<p>In some part of his life, it is not known when, his indigence +compelled him to teach a school, a humiliation with which, though +it certainly lasted but a little while, his enemies did not +forget to reproach him, when he became conspicuous enough to +excite malevolence; and let it be remembered for his honour, that +to have been once a schoolmaster is the only reproach which all +the perspicacity of malice, animated by wit, has ever fixed upon +his private life.</p> +<p>When he first engaged in the study of physic, he inquired, as +he says, of Dr. Sydenham, what authors he should read and was +directed by Sydenham to “Don Quixote”: +“which” said he, “is a very good book; I read +it still.” The perverseness of mankind makes it often +mischievous to men of eminence to give way to merriment; the idle +and the illiterate will long shelter themselves under this +foolish apophthegm. Whether he rested satisfied with this +direction, or sought for better, he commenced physician, and +obtained high eminence and extensive practice. He became +Fellow of the College of Physicians, April 12, 1687, being one of +the thirty which, by the new charter of King James, were added to +the former fellows. His residence was in Cheapside, and his +friends were chiefly in the City. In the early part of +Blackmore’s time a citizen was a term of reproach; and his +place of abode was another topic, to which his adversaries had +recourse in the penury of scandal.</p> +<p>Blackmore, therefore, was made a poet not by necessity but +inclination, and wrote not for a livelihood but for fame; or, if +he may tell his own motives, for a nobler purpose, to engage +poetry in the cause of virtue.</p> +<p>I believe it is peculiar to him that his first public work was +an heroic poem. He was not known as a maker of verses till +he published (in 1695) “Prince Arthur,” in ten books, +written, as he relates, “by such catches and starts, and in +such occasional uncertain hours as his profession afforded, and +for the greatest part in coffee-houses, or in passing up and down +the streets.” For the latter part of this apology he +was accused of writing “to the rumbling of his chariot +wheels.” He had read, he says, “but little +poetry throughout his whole life; and for fifteen years before +had not written a hundred verses except one copy of Latin verses +in praise of a friend’s book.” He thinks, and +with some reason, that from such a performance perfection cannot +be expected; but he finds another reason for the severity of his +censurers, which he expresses in language such as Cheapside +easily furnished. “I am not free of the Poet’s +Company, having never kissed the governor’s hands: mine is +therefore not so much as a permission poem, but a downright +interloper. Those gentlemen, who carry on their poetical +trade in a joint stock, would certainly do what they could to +sink and ruin an unlicensed adventurer, notwithstanding I +disturbed none of their factories, nor imported any goods they +have ever dealt in.” He had lived in the City till he +had learned its note.</p> +<p>That “Prince Arthur” found many readers is +certain; for in two years it had three editions, a very uncommon +instance of favourable reception, at a time when literary +curiosity was yet confined to particular classes of the +nation. Such success naturally raised animosity; and Dennis +attacked it by a formal criticism, more tedious and disgusting +than the work which he condemns. To this censure may be +opposed the approbation of Locke, and the admiration of Molyneux, +which are found in their printed “Letters.” +Molyneux is particularly delighted with the song of Mopas, which +is therefore subjoined to this narrative.</p> +<p>It is remarked by Pope, that “what raises the hero, +often sinks the man.” Of Blackmore is may be said +that, as the poet sinks, the man rises; the animadversions of +Dennis, insolent and contemptuous as they were, raised in him no +implacable resentment; he and his critic were afterwards friends; +and in one of his latter works he praises Dennis “as equal +to Boileau in poetry, and superior to him in critical +abilities.” He seems to have been more delighted with +praise than pained by censure, and instead of slackening, +quickened his career. Having in two years produced ten +books of “Prince Arthur,” in two years more (1697) he +sent into the world “King Arthur” in twelve. +The provocation was now doubled, and the resentment of wits and +critics may be supposed to have increased in proportion. He +found, however, advantages more than equivalent to all their +outrages. He was this year made one of the physicians in +ordinary to King William, and advanced by him to the honour of +knighthood, with the present of a gold chaise and medal. +The malignity of the wits attributed his knighthood to his new +poem, but King William was not very studious of poetry; and +Blackmore perhaps had other merit, for he says in his dedication +to “Alfred,” that “he had a greater part in the +succession of the house of Hanover than ever he had +boasted.”</p> +<p>What Blackmore could contribute to the Succession, or what he +imagined himself to have contributed, cannot now be known. +That he had been of considerable use, I doubt not but he +believed, for I hold him to have been very honest; but he might +easily make a false estimate of his own importance. Those +whom their virtue restrains from deceiving others, are often +disposed by their vanity to deceive themselves. Whether he +promoted the Succession or not, he at least approved it, and +adhered invariably to his principles and party through his whole +life.</p> +<p>His ardour of poetry still continued; and not long after +(1700) he published a “Paraphrase on the Book of Job, and +other parts of the Scripture.” This performance +Dryden, who pursued him with great malignity, lived long enough +to ridicule in a Prologue.</p> +<p>The wits easily confederated against him, as Dryden, whose +favour they almost all courted, was his professed +adversary. He had, besides, given them reason for +resentment, as, in his preface to “Prince Arthur,” he +had said of the dramatic writers almost all that was alleged +afterwards by Collier; but Blackmore’s censure was cold and +general, Collier’s was personal and ardent; Blackmore +taught his reader to dislike what Collier incited him to +abhor.</p> +<p>In his preface to “King Arthur” he endeavoured to +gain at least one friend, and propitiated Congreve by higher +praise of his “Mourning Bride” than it has obtained +from any other critic.</p> +<p>The same year he published a “Satire on Wit,” a +proclamation of defiance which united the poets almost all +against him, and which brought upon him lampoons and ridicule +from every side. This he doubtless foresaw, and evidently +despised; nor should his dignity of mind be without its praise, +had he not paid the homage to greatness which he denied to +genius, and degraded himself by conferring that authority over +the national taste, which he takes from the poets, upon men of +high rank and wide influence, but of less wit and not greater +virtue.</p> +<p>Here is again discovered the inhabitant of Cheapside, whose +head cannot keep his poetry unmingled with trade. To hinder +that intellectual bankruptcy which he affects to fear he will +erect a “Bank for Wit.” In this poem he justly +censured Dryden’s impurities, but praised his powers, +though in a subsequent edition he retained the satire, and +omitted the praise. What was his reason, I know not; Dryden +was then no longer in his way. His head still teemed with +heroic poetry; and (1705) he published “Eliza,” in +ten books. I am afraid that the world was now weary of +contending about Blackmore’s heroes, for I do not remember +that by any author, serious or comical, I have found +“Eliza” either praised or blamed.</p> +<p>She “dropped,” as it seems, “dead-born from +the press.” It is never mentioned, and was never seen +by me till I borrowed it for the present occasion. Jacob +says “it is corrected and revised from another +impression,” but the labour of revision was thrown +away.</p> +<p>From this time he turned some of his thoughts to the +celebration of living characters, and wrote a poem on the Kit-Cat +Club, and “Advice to the Poets how to celebrate the Duke of +Marlborough” but on occasion of another year of success, +thinking himself qualified to give more instruction, he again +wrote a poem of “Advice to a Weaver of +Tapestry.” Steele was then publishing the +<i>Tatler</i>, and, looking round him for something at which he +might laugh, unluckily alighted on Sir Richard’s work, and +treated it with such contempt that, as Fenton observes, he put an +end to that species of writers that gave advice to painters.</p> +<p>Not long after (1712) he published “Creation,” a +philosophical poem, which has been, by my recommendation, +inserted in the late collection. Whoever judges of this by +any other of Blackmore’s performances will do it +injury. The praise given it by Addison (<i>Spectator</i>, +339) is too well known to be transcribed; but some notice is due +to the testimony of Dennis, who calls it a “philosophical +poem, which has equalled that of ‘Lucretius’ in the +beauty of its versification, and infinitely surpassed it in the +solidity and strength of its reasoning.”</p> +<p>Why an author surpasses himself it is natural to +inquire. I have heard from Mr. Draper, an eminent +bookseller, an account received by him from Ambrose Philips, +“That Blackmore, as he proceeded in this poem, laid his +manuscript from time to time before a club of wits with whom he +associated, and that every man contributed, as he could, either +improvement or correction; so that,” said Philips, +“there are perhaps nowhere in the book thirty lines +together that now stand as they were originally +written.”</p> +<p>The relation of Philips, I suppose, was true; but when all +reasonable, all credible allowance is made for this friendly +revision, the author will still retain an ample dividend of +praise; for to him must always be assigned the plan of the work, +the distribution of its parts, the choice of topics, the train of +argument, and, what is yet more, the general predominance of +philosophical judgment and poetical spirit. Correction +seldom effects more than the suppression of faults: a happy line, +or a single elegance, may perhaps be added; but of a large work, +the general character must always remain. The original +constitution can be very little helped by local remedies; +inherent and radical dulness will never be much invigorated by +intrinsic animation. This poem, if he had written nothing +else, would have transmitted him to posterity among the first +favourites of the English muse; but to make verses was his +transcendent pleasure, and, as he was not deterred by censure, he +was not satiated with praise. He deviated, however, +sometimes into other tracks of literature, and condescended to +entertain his readers with plain prose. When the +<i>Spectator</i> stopped, he considered the polite world as +destitute of entertainment, and in concert with Mr. Hughes, who +wrote every third paper, published three times a week the +“Lay Monastery,” founded on the supposition that some +literary men, whose characters are described, had retired to a +house in the country to enjoy philosophical leisure, and resolved +to instruct the public by communicating their disquisitions and +amusements. Whether any real persons were concealed under +fictitious names is not known. The hero of the club is one +Mr. Johnson, such a constellation of excellence, that his +character shall not be suppressed, though there is no great +genius in the design nor skill in the delineation.</p> +<p>“The first I shall name is Mr. Johnson, a gentleman that +owes to nature excellent faculties and an elevated genius, and to +industry and application many acquired accomplishments. His +taste is distinguishing, just, and delicate; his judgment clear, +and his reason strong, accompanied with an imagination full of +spirit, of great compass, and stored with refined ideas. He +is a critic of the first rank and, what is his peculiar ornament, +he is delivered from the ostentation, malevolence, and +supercilious temper, that so often blemish men of that +character. His remarks result from the nature and reason of +things, and are formed by a judgment free and unbiassed by the +authority of those who have lazily followed each other in the +same beaten track of thinking, and are arrived only at the +reputation of acute grammarians and commentators; men who have +been copying one another many hundred years without any +improvement, or, if they have ventured farther, have only applied +in a mechanical manner the rules of ancient critics to modern +writings, and with great labour discovered nothing but their own +want of judgment and capacity. As Mr. Johnson penetrates to +the bottom of his subject, by which means his observations are +solid and natural, as well as delicate, so his design is always +to bring to light something useful and ornamental; whence his +character is the reverse to theirs, who have eminent abilities in +insignificant knowledge, and a great felicity in finding out +trifles. He is no less industrious to search out the merit +of an author, than sagacious in discerning his errors and +defects, and takes more pleasure in commending the beauties than +exposing the blemishes of a laudable writing. Like Horace, +in a long work he can bear some deformities, and justly lay them +on the imperfection of human nature, which is incapable of +faultless productions. When an excellent drama appears in +public, and by its intrinsic worth attracts a general applause, +he is not stung with envy and spleen; nor does he express a +savage nature in fastening upon the celebrated author, dwelling +upon his imaginary defects, and passing over his conspicuous +excellences. He treats all writers upon the same impartial +foot, and is not, like the little critics, taken up entirely in +finding out only the beauties of the ancient and nothing but the +errors of the modern writers. Never did any one express +more kindness and good-nature to young and unfinished authors, he +promotes their interests, protects their reputation, extenuates +their faults, and sets off their virtues, and by his candour +guards them from the severity of his judgment. He is not +like those dry critics who are morose because they cannot write +themselves, but is himself master of a good vein in poetry; and +though he does not often employ it, yet he has sometimes +entertained his friends with his unpublished +performances.”</p> +<p>The rest of the lay monks seem to be but feeble mortals an +comparison with the gigantic Johnson, who yet, with all his +abilities and the help of the fraternity, could drive the +publication but to forty papers, which were afterwards collected +into a volume, and called in the title “A Sequel to the +<i>Spectators</i>.”</p> +<p>Some years afterwards (1716 and 1717) he published two volumes +of essays in prose, which can be commended only as they are +written for the highest and noblest purpose—the promotion +of religion. Blackmore’s prose is not the prose of a +poet, for it is languid, sluggish, and lifeless; his diction is +neither daring nor exact, his flow neither rapid nor easy, and +his periods neither smooth nest strong. His account of +<i>wit</i> will show with how little clearness he is content to +think, and how little his thoughts are recommended by his +language.</p> +<p>“As to its efficient cause, <i>wit</i> owes its +production to an extraordinary and peculiar temperament in the +constitution of the possessor of it, in which is found a +concurrence of regular and exalted ferments, and an affluence of +animal spirits, refined and rectified to a great degree of +purity; whence, being endowed with vivacity, brightness, and +celerity, as well in their reflections as direct motions, they +become proper instruments for the sprightly operations of the +mind, by which means the imagination can with great facility +range the wide field of Nature, contemplate an infinite variety +of objects, and, by observing the similitude and disagreement of +their several qualities, single out and abstract, and then suit +and unite, those ideas which will best serve its purpose. +Hence beautiful allusions, surprising metaphors, and admirable +sentiments, are always ready at hand; and while the fancy is full +of images, collected from innumerable objects, and their +different qualities, relations, and habitudes, it can at pleasure +dress a common notion in a strange but becoming garb, by which, +as before observed, the same thought will appear a new one, to +the great delight and wonder of the hearer. What we call +<i>genius</i> results from this particular happy complexion in +the first formation of the person that enjoys it, and is +Nature’s gift, but diversified by various specific +characters and limitations, as its active fire is blended and +allayed by different proportions of phlegm, or reduced and +regulated by the contrast of opposite ferments. Therefore, +as there happens in the composition of facetious genius a greater +or less, though still an inferior, degree of judgment and +prudence, one man of wit will be varied and distinguished from +another.”</p> +<p>In these essays he took little care to propitiate the wits, +for he scorns to avert their malice at the expense of virtue or +of truth.</p> +<p>“Several, in their books, have many sarcastical and +spiteful strokes at religion in general; while others make +themselves pleasant with the principles of the Christian. +Of the last kind this age has seen a most audacious example in +the book entitled ‘A Tale of a Tub.’ Had this +writing been published in a pagan or popish nation, who are +justly impatient of all indignity offered to the established +religion of their country, no doubt but the author would have +received the punishment he deserved. But the fate of this +impious buffoon is very different, for in a Protestant kingdom, +zealous of their civil and religious immunities, he has not only +escaped affronts and the effects of public resentment, but has +been caressed and patronised by persons of great figure, and of +all denominations. Violent party-men, who differed in all +things besides, agreed in their turn to show particular respect +and friendship to this insolent derider of the worship of his +country, till at last the reputed writer is not only gone off +with impunity, but triumphs in his dignity and preferment. +I do not know that any inquiry or search was ever made after this +writing, or that any reward was ever offered for the discovery of +the author, or that the infamous book was ever condemned to be +burnt in public. Whether this proceeds from the excessive +esteem and love that men in power, during the late reign, had for +wit, or their defect of zeal and concern for the Christian +religion will be determined best by those who are best acquainted +with their character.”</p> +<p>In another place he speaks with becoming abhorrence of a +<i>godless author</i> who has burlesqued a Psalm. This +author was supposed to be Pope, who published a reward for any +one that would produce the coiner of the accusation, but never +denied it, and was afterwards the perpetual and incessant enemy +of Blackmore.</p> +<p>One of his essays is upon the spleen, which is treated by him +so much to his own satisfaction, that he has published the same +thoughts in the same words; first, in the “Lay +Monastery,” then in the “Essay,” and then in +the “Preface to a Medical Treatise on the +Spleen.” One passage, which I have found already +twice, I will here exhibit, because I think it better imagined +and better expressed than could be expected from the common tenor +of his prose:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“—As the several combinations of +splenetic madness and folly produce an infinite variety of +irregular under-standing, so the amicable accommodation and +alliance between several virtues and vices produce an equal +diversity in the dispositions and manners of mankind; whence it +comes to pass, that as many monstrous and absurd productions are +found in the moral as in the intellectual world. How +surprising is it to observe among the least culpable men, some +whose minds are attracted by heaven and earth with a seeming +equal force; some who are proud of humility; others who are +censorious and uncharitable, yet self-denying and devout; some +who join contempt of the world with sordid avarice; and others, +who preserve a great degree of piety with ill-nature and +ungoverned passions. Nor are instances of this inconsistent +mixture less frequent among bad men, where we often with +admiration see persons at once generous and unjust, impious +lovers of their country, and flagitious heroes, good-natured +sharpers, immoral men of honour, and libertines who will sooner +die than change their religion; and though it is true that +repugnant coalitions of so high a degree are found but in a part +of mankind, yet none of the whole mass, either good or bad, are +entirely exempted from some absurd mixture.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He about this time (August 22, 1716) became one of the elects +of the College of Physicians, and was soon after (October 1) +chosen Censor. He seems to have arrived late, whatever was +the reason, at his medical honours.</p> +<p>Having succeeded so well in his book on Creation, by which he +established the great principle of all religion, he thought his +undertaking imperfect, unless he likewise enforced the truth of +Revelation, and for that purpose added another poem on +“Redemption.” He had likewise written before +his “Creation” three books on the Nature of Man.</p> +<p>The lovers of musical devotion have always wished for a more +happy metrical version than they have yet obtained of the Book of +Psalms. This wish the piety of Blackmore led him to +gratify, and he produced (1721) “A New Version of the +Psalms of David fitted to the Tunes used in Churches,” +which being recommended by the archbishops and many bishops, +obtained a license for its admission into public worship; but no +admission has it yet obtained, nor has it any right to come where +Brady and Tate have got possession. Blackmore’s name +must be added to those of many others who, by the same attempt, +have obtained only the praise of meaning well.</p> +<p>He was not yet deterred from heroic poetry. There was +another monarch of this island (for he did not fetch his heroes +from foreign countries) whom he considered as worthy the epic +muse, and he dignified “Alfred” (1723) with twelve +books. But the opinion of the nation was now settled; a +hero introduced by Blackmore was not likely to find either +respect or kindness; “Alfred” took his place by +“Eliza” in silence and darkness. Benevolence +was ashamed to favour, and malice was weary of insulting. +Of his four epic poems, the first had such reputation and +popularity as enraged the critics; the second was at least known +enough to be ridiculed; the two last had neither friends nor +enemies.</p> +<p>Contempt is a kind of gangrene, which, if it seizes one part +of a character, corrupts all the rest by degrees. Blackmore +being despised as a poet, was in time neglected as a physician; +his practice, which was once invidiously great, forsook him in +the latter part of his life, but being by nature, or by +principle, averse from idleness, he employed his unwelcome +leisure in writing books on physic, and teaching others to cure +those whom he could himself cure no longer. I know not +whether I can enumerate all the treatises by which he has +endeavoured to diffuse the art of healing, for there is scarcely +any distemper of dreadful name which he has not taught the reader +how to oppose. He has written on the small-pox, with a +vehement invective against inoculation; on consumption, the +spleen, the gout, the rheumatism, the king’s evil, the +dropsy, the jaundice, the stone, the diabetes, and the +plague. Of those books, if I had read them, it could nor be +expected that I should be able to give a critical account. +I have been told that there is something in them of vexation and +discontent, discovered by a perpetual attempt to degrade physic +from its sublimity, and to represent it as attainable without +much previous or concomitant learning. By the transient +glances which I have thrown upon them I have observed an affected +contempt of the ancients, and a supercilious derision of +transmitted knowledge. Of this indecent arrogance the +following quotation from his preface to the “Treatise on +the Small-pox” will afford a specimen, in which, when the +reader finds what I fear is true, that, when he was censuring +Hippocrates, he did not know the difference between +<i>aphorism</i> and <i>apophthegm</i>, he will not pay much +regard to his determinations concerning ancient learning.</p> +<blockquote><p>“As for this book of aphorisms, it is like +my Lord Bacon’s of the same title, a book of jests, or a +grave collection of trite and trifling observations; of which, +though many are true and certain, yet they signify nothing, and +may afford diversion, but no instruction, most of them being much +inferior to the sayings of the wise men of Greece, which yet are +so low and mean, that we are entertained every day with more +valuable sentiments at the table conversation of ingenious and +learned men.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I am unwilling, however, to leave him in total disgrace, and +will therefore quote from another preface a passage less +reprehensible.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Some gentlemen have been disingenuous and +unjust to me, by wresting and forcing my meaning, in the preface +to another book, as if I condemned and exposed all learning, +though they knew I declared that I greatly honoured and esteemed +all men of superior literature and erudition, and that I only +undervalued false or superficial learning, that signifies nothing +for the service of mankind; and that as to physic, I expressly +affirmed that learning must be joined with native genius to make +a physician of the first rank; but if those talents are +separated, I asserted, and do still insist, that a man of native +sagacity and diligence will prove a more able and useful +practiser than a heavy notional scholar, encumbered with a heap +of confused ideas.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He was not only a poet and a physician, but produced likewise +a work of a different kind, “A True and Impartial History +of the Conspiracy against King William of Glorious Memory in the +Year 1695.” This I have never seen, but suppose it is +at least compiled with integrity. He engaged likewise in +theological controversy, and wrote two books against the Arians: +“Just Prejudices against the Arian Hypothesis,” and +“Modern Arians Unmasked.” Another of his works +is “Natural Theology; or, Moral Duties considered apart +from Positive; with some Observations on the Desirableness and +Necessity of a Supernatural Revelation.” This was the +last book that he published. He left behind him “The +Accomplished Preacher; or, an Essay upon Divine Eloquence,” +which was printed after his death by Mr. White of Nayland, in +Essex, the minister who attended his death-bed, and testified the +fervent piety of his last hours. He died on the 8th of +October, 1729.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Blackmore, by the unremitted enmity of the wits, whom he +provoked more by his virtue than his dulness, has been exposed to +worse treatment than he deserved. His name was so long used +to point every epigram upon dull writers, that it became at last +a byword of contempt but it deserves observation, that malignity +takes hold only of his writings, and that his life passed without +reproach, even when his boldness of reprehension naturally turned +upon him many eyes desirous to espy faults which many tongues +would have made haste to publish. But those who could not +blame, could, at least, forbear to praise, and therefore of his +private life and domestic character there are no memorials.</p> +<p>As an author, he may justly claim the honours of +magnanimity. The incessant attacks of his enemies, whether +serious or merry, are never discovered to have disturbed his +quiet, or to have lessened his confidence in himself: they +neither awed him to silence nor to caution: they neither provoked +him to petulance, nor depressed him to complaint. While the +distributors of literary fame were endeavouring to depreciate and +degrade him, he either despised or defied them, wrote on as he +had written before, and never turned aside to quiet them by +civility, or repress them by confutation. He depended with +great security on his own powers, and perhaps was for that reason +less diligent in perusing books. His literature was, I +think, but small. What he knew of antiquity, I suspect him +to have gathered from modern compilers; but, though he could not +boast of much critical knowledge, his mind was stored with +general principles, and he left minute researches to those whom +he considered as little minds. With this disposition he +wrote most of his poems. Having formed a magnificent +design, he was careless of particular and subordinate elegances; +he studied no niceties of versification; he waited for no +felicities of fancy, but caught his first thoughts in the first +words in which they were presented; nor does it appear that he +saw beyond his own performances, or had ever elevated his was to +that ideal perfection which every genius born to excel is +condemned always to pursue, and never overtake. In the +first suggestions of his imagination he acquiesced; he thought +them good, and did not seek for better. His works may be +read a long time without the occurrence of a single line that +stands prominent from the rest. The poem on +“Creation” has, however, the appearance of more +circumspection; it wants neither harmony of numbers, accuracy of +thought, nor elegance of diction. It has either been +written with great care, or, what cannot be imagined of so long a +work, with such felicity as made care less necessary. Its +two constituent parts are ratiocination and description. To +reason in verse is allowed to be difficult; but Blackmore not +only reasons in verse, but very often reasons poetically; and +finds the art of uniting ornament with strength and ease with +closeness. This is a skill which Pope might have +condescended to learn from him, when he needed it so much in his +“Moral Essays.”</p> +<p>In his descriptions both of life and nature, the poet and the +philosopher happily co-operate; truth is recommended by elegance, +and elegance sustained by truth. In the structure and order +of the poem, not only the greater parts are properly consecutive, +but the didactic and illustrative paragraphs are so happily +mingled, that labour is relieved by pleasure, and the attention +is led on through a long succession of varied excellence to the +original position, the fundamental principle of wisdom and of +virtue.</p> +<p>As the heroic poems of Blackmore are now little read, it is +thought proper to insert, as a specimen from “Prince +Arthur,” the song of Mopas mentioned by +Molyneux:—</p> +<p class="poetry"> “But that which Arthur +with most pleasure heard<br /> +Were noble strains, by Mopas sung the bard,<br /> +Who to his harp in lofty verse began,<br /> +And through the secret maze of Nature ran.<br /> +He the Great Spirit sung, that all things filled,<br /> +That the tumultuous waves of Chaos stilled;<br /> +Whose nod disposed the jarring seeds to peace,<br /> +And made the wars of hostile Atoms cease.<br /> +All Beings, we in fruitful Nature find,<br /> +Proceeded from the Great Eternal mind:<br /> +Streams of his unexhausted spring of power,<br /> +And, cherished with his influence, endure.<br /> +He spread the pure cerulean fields on high,<br /> +And arched the chambers of the vaulted sky,<br /> +Which he, to suit their glory with their height,<br /> +Adorned with globes, that reel, as drunk with light.<br /> +His hand directed all the tuneful spheres,<br /> +He turned their orbs, and polished all the stars.<br /> +He filled the Sun’s vast lamp with golden light:<br /> +And bid the silver Moon adorn the night.<br /> +He spread the airy Ocean without shores,<br /> +Where birds are wafted with their feathered oars.<br /> +Then sung the bard how the light vapours rise<br /> +From the warm earth, and cloud the smiling skies;<br /> +He sung how some, chilled in their airy flight,<br /> +Fall scattered down in pearly dew by night;<br /> +How some, raised higher, sit in secret steams<br /> +On the reflected points of bounding beams,<br /> +Till, chilled with cold, they shade th’ ethereal plain,<br +/> +Then on the thirsty earth descend in rain;<br /> +How some, whose parts a slight contexture show,<br /> +Sink hovering through the air in fleecy snow;<br /> +How part is spun in silken threads, and clings<br /> +Entangled in the grass is gluey strings;<br /> +How others stamp to stones, with rushing sound<br /> +Fall from their crystal quarries to the ground;<br /> +How some are laid in trains, that kindled fly,<br /> +In harmless fires by night, about the sky;<br /> +How some in winds blow with impetuous force,<br /> +And carry ruin where they bend their course,<br /> +While some conspire to form a gentle breeze,<br /> +To fan the air, and play among the trees;<br /> +How some, enraged, grow turbulent and loud,<br /> +Pent in the bowels of a frowning cloud,<br /> +That cracks, as if the axis of the world<br /> +Was broke, and Heaven’s bright towers were downwards +hurled.<br /> +He sung how earth’s wide ball, at Jove’s command,<br +/> +Did in the midst on airy columns stand;<br /> +And how the soul of plants, in prison held,<br /> +And bound with sluggish fetters, lies concealed,<br /> +Till with the spring’s warm beams, almost released<br /> +From the dull weight, with which it lay opprest,<br /> +Its vigour spreads, and makes the teeming earth<br /> +Heave up, and labour with the sprouting birth:<br /> +The active spirit freedom seeks in vain,<br /> +It only works and twists a stronger chain;<br /> +Urging its prison’s sides to break a way,<br /> +It makes that wider, where ’tis forced to stay:<br /> +Till, having formed its living house, it rears<br /> +Its head, and in a tender plant appears.<br /> +Hence springs the oak, the beauty of the grove,<br /> +Whose stately trunk fierce storms can scarcely move.<br /> +Hence grows the cedar, hence the swelling vine<br /> +Does round the elm its purple clusters twine.<br /> +Hence painted flowers the smiling gardens bless,<br /> +Both with their fragrant scent and gaudy dress.<br /> +Hence the white lily in full beauty grows,<br /> +Hence the blue violet and blushing rose.<br /> +He sung how sunbeams brood upon the earth,<br /> +And in the glebe hatch such a numerous birth;<br /> +Which way the genial warmth in Summer storms<br /> +Turns putrid vapours to a bed of worms;<br /> +How rain, transformed by this prolific power,<br /> +Falls from the clouds an animated shower.<br /> +He sung the embryo’s growth within the womb,<br /> +And how the parts their various shapes assume.<br /> +With what rare art the wondrous structure’s wrought,<br /> +From one crude mass to such perfection brought;<br /> +That no part useless, none misplaced we see,<br /> +None are forgot, and more would monstrous be.”</p> +<h2>POPE.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Alexander Pope</span> was born in London, +May 22, 1688, of parents whose rank or station was never +ascertained: we are informed that they were of “gentle +blood;” that his father was of a family of which the Earl +of Downe was the head, and that his mother was the daughter of +William Turner, Esquire, of York, who had likewise three sons, +one of whom had the honour of being killed, and the other of +dying, in the service of Charles the First; the third was made a +general officer in Spain, from whom the sister inherited what +sequestrations and forfeitures had left in the family. +This, and this only, is told by Pope, who is more willing, as I +have heard observed, to show what his father was not, than what +he was. It is allowed that he grew rich by trade; but +whether in a shop or on the Exchange was never discovered till +Mr. Tyers told, on the authority of Mrs. Racket, that he was a +linendraper in the Strand. Both parents were Papists.</p> +<p>Pope was from his birth of a constitution tender and delicate, +but is said to have shown remarkable gentleness and sweetness of +disposition. The weakness of his body continued through his +life, but the mildness of his mind perhaps ended with his +childhood. His voice when he was young was so pleasing, +that he was called in fondness “The Little +Nightingale.”</p> +<p>Being not sent early to school, he was taught to read by an +aunt; and, when he was seven or eight years old, became a lover +of books. He first learned to write by imitating printed +books, a species of penmanship in which he retained great +excellence through his whole life, though his ordinary hand was +not elegant. When he was about eight he was placed in +Hampshire, under Taverner, a Romish priest, who, by a method very +rarely practised, taught him the Greek and Latin rudiments +together. He was now first regularly initiated in poetry by +the perusal of “Ogilby’s Homer” and +“Sandys’ Ovid.” Ogilby’s assistance +he never repaid with any praise; but of Sandys he declared, in +his notes to the “Iliad,” that English poetry owed +much of its beauty to his translations. Sandys very rarely +attempted original composition.</p> +<p>From the care of Taverner, under whom his proficiency was +considerable, he was removed to a school at Twyford, near +Winchester, and again to another school about Hyde Park Corner, +from which he used sometimes to stroll to the play-hones, and was +so delighted with theatrical exhibitions, that he formed a kind +of play from “Ogilby’s Iliad,” with some verses +of his own intermixed, which he persuaded his schoolfellows to +act, with the addition of his master’s gardener, who +personated Ajax.</p> +<p>At the two last schools he used to represent himself as having +lost part of what Taverner had taught him, and on his master at +Twyford he had already exercised his poetry in a lampoon. +Yet under those masters he translated more than a fourth part of +the “Metamorphoses.” If he kept the same +proportion in his other exercises, it cannot be thought that his +loss was great. He tells of himself, in his poems, that +“he lisped in numbers;” and used to say that he could +not remember the time when he began to make verses. In the +style of fiction, it might have been said of him, as of Pindar, +that when he lay in his cradle “the bees swarmed about his +mouth.”</p> +<p>About the time of the Revolution his father, who was +undoubtedly disappointed by the sudden blast of Popish +prosperity, quitted his trade, and retired to Binfield, in +Windsor Forest, with about twenty thousand pounds, for which, +being conscientiously determined not to entrust it to the +Government, he found no better use than that of locking it up in +a chest, and taking from it what his expenses required; and his +life was long enough to consume a great part of it before his son +came to the inheritance.</p> +<p>To Binfield Pope was called by his father when he was about +twelve years old, and there he had for a few months the +assistance of one Deane, another priest, of whom he learned only +to construe a little of “Tully’s +Offices.” How Mr. Deane could spend with a boy who +had translated so much of “Ovid” some months over a +small part of “Tully’s Offices,” it is now vain +to inquire. Of a youth so successfully employed, and so +conspicuously improved, a minute account must be naturally +desired; but curiosity must be contented with confused, +imperfect, and sometimes improbable intelligence. Pope, +finding little advantage from external help, resolved +thenceforward to direct himself, and at twelve formed a plan of +study, which he completed with little other incitement than the +desire of excellence. His primary and principal purpose was +to be a poet, with which his father accidentally concurred by +proposing subjects and obliging him to correct his performances +by many revisals, after which the old gentleman, when he was +satisfied, would say, “These are good rhymes.” +In his perusal of the English poets he soon distinguished the +versification of Dryden, which he considered as the model to be +studied, and was impressed with such veneration for his +instructor, that he persuaded some friends to take him to the +coffee-house which Dryden frequented, and pleased himself with +having seen him.</p> +<p>Dryden died May 1, 1701, some days before Pope was twelve; so +early must he therefore have felt the power of harmony, and the +zeal of genius. Who does not wish that Dryden could have +known the value of the homage that was paid him, and foreseen the +greatness of his young admirer?</p> +<p>The earliest of Pope’s productions is his “Ode on +Solitude,” written before he was twelve, in which there is +nothing more than other forward boys have attained, and which is +not equal to Cowley’s performance at the same age. +His time was now wholly spent in reading and writing. As he +read the classics he amused himself with translating them, and at +fourteen made a version of the first book of the +“Thebais,” which, with some revision, he afterwards +published. He must have been at this time, if he had no +help, a considerable proficient in the Latin tongue.</p> +<p>By Dryden’s fables, which had then been not long +published, and were much in the hands of poetical readers, he was +tempted to try his own skill in giving Chaucer a more fashionable +appearance, and put “January and May” and the +“Prologue of the Wife of Bath” into modern +English. He translated likewise the Epistle of +“Sappho to Phaon” from Ovid, to complete the version, +which was before imperfect, and wrote some other small pieces, +which he afterwards printed. He sometimes imitated the +English poets, and professed to have written at fourteen his poem +upon “Silence,” after Rochester’s +“Nothing.” He had now formed his versification, +and the smoothness of his numbers surpassed his original; but +this is a small part of his praise; he discovers such +acquaintance both with human life and public affairs as is not +easily conceived to have been attainable by a boy of fourteen in +Windsor Forest.</p> +<p>Next year he was desirous of opening to himself new sources of +knowledge, by making himself acquainted with modern languages, +and removed for a time to London, that he might study French and +Italian, which, as he desired nothing more than to read them, +were by diligent application soon despatched. Of Italian +learning he does not appear to have ever made much use in his +subsequent studies. He then returned to Binfield, and +delighted himself with his own poetry. He tried all styles, +and many subjects. He wrote a comedy, a tragedy, an epic +poem, with panegyrics on all the princes of Europe; and, as he +confesses, “thought himself the greatest genius that ever +was.” Self-confidence is the first requisite to great +undertakings. He, indeed, who forms his opinion of himself +in solitude, without knowing the powers of other men, is very +liable to error; but it was the felicity of Pope to rate himself +at his real value. Most of his puerile productions were, by +his maturer judgment, afterwards destroyed. +“Alcander,” the epic poem, was burnt by the +persuasion of Atterbury. The tragedy was founded on the +legend of St. Genevieve. Of the comedy there is no +account. Concerning his studies, it is related that he +translated “Tully on Old Age,” and that, besides his +books of poetry and criticisms, he read “Temple’s +Essays” and “Locke on Human +Understanding.” His reading, though his favourite +authors are not known, appears to have been sufficiently +extensive and multifarious, for his early pieces show with +sufficient evidence his knowledge of books. He that is +pleased with himself easily imagines that he shall please +others. Sir William Trumbull, who had been Ambassador at +Constantinople, and Secretary of State, when he retired from +business, fixed his residence in the neighbourhood of +Binfield. Pope, not yet sixteen, was introduced to the +statesman of sixty, and so distinguished himself that their +interviews ended in friendship and correspondence. Pope +was, through his whole life, ambitious of splendid acquaintance; +and he seems to have wanted neither diligence nor success in +attracting the notice of the great, for, from his first entrance +into the world, and his entrance was very early, he was admitted +to familiarity with those whose rank or station made them most +conspicuous.</p> +<p>From the age of sixteen the life of Pope, as an author, may be +properly computed. He now wrote his pastorals, which were +shown to the poets and critics of that time. As they well +deserved, they were read with admiration, and many praises were +bestowed upon them and upon the preface, which is both elegant +and learned in a high degree; they were, however, not published +till five years afterwards.</p> +<p>Cowley, Milton, and Pope are distinguished among the English +poets by the early exertion of their powers, but the works of +Cowley alone were published in his childhood, and, therefore, of +him only can it be certain that his puerile performances received +no improvement from his maturer studies.</p> +<p>At this time began his acquaintance with Wycherley, a man who +seems to have had among his contemporaries his full share of +reputation, to have been esteemed without virtue, and caressed +without good humour. Pope was proud of his notice. +Wycherley wrote verses in his praise, which he was charged by +Dennis with writing to himself, and they agreed for a while to +flatter one another. It is pleasant to remark how soon Pope +learned the cant of an author, and began to treat critics with +contempt, though he had yet suffered nothing from them. But +the fondness of Wycherley was too violent to last. His +esteem of Pope was such that he submitted some poems to his +revision, and when Pope, perhaps proud of such confidence, was +sufficiently bold in his criticisms, and liberal in his +alterations, the old scribbler was angry to see his pages +defaced, and felt more pain from the detection than content from +the amendment of his faults. They parted, but Pope always +considered him with kindness, and visited him a little time +before he died. Another of his early correspondents was Mr. +Cromwell, of whom I have learned nothing particular, but that he +used to ride a-hunting in a tie-wig. He was fond, and +perhaps vain, of amusing himself with poetry and criticism, and +sometimes sent his performances to Pope, who did not forbear such +remarks as were now and then unwelcome. Pope, in his turn, +put the juvenile version of “Statius” into his hands +for correction. Their correspondence afforded the public +its first knowledge of Pope’s epistolary powers, for his +letters were given by Cromwell to one Mrs. Thomas, and she many +years afterwards sold them to Curll, who inserted them in a +volume of his “Miscellanies.”</p> +<p>Walsh, a name yet preserved among the minor poets, was one of +his first encouragers. His regard was gained by the +pastorals, and from him Pope received the counsel from which he +seems to have regulated his studies. Walsh advised him to +correctness, which, as he told him, the English poets had +hitherto neglected, and which, therefore, was left to him as a +basis of fame; and, being delighted with rural poems, recommended +to him to write a pastoral comedy, like those which are read so +eagerly in Italy, a design which Pope probably did not approve, +as he did not follow it.</p> +<p>Pope had now declared himself a poet, and, thinking himself +entitled to poetical conversation, began at seventeen to frequent +Will’s, a coffee-house on the north side of Russell Street, +in Covent Garden, where the wits of that time used to assemble, +and where Dryden had, when he lived, been accustomed to +preside. During this period of his life he was +indefatigably diligent and insatiably curious, wanting health for +violent and money for expensive pleasures, and having excited in +himself very strong desires of intellectual eminence, he spent +much of his time over his books; but he read only to store his +mind with facts and images, seizing all that his authors +presented with undistinguishing voracity, and with an appetite +for knowledge too eager to be nice. In a mind like his, +however, all the faculties were at once involuntarily +improving. Judgment is forced upon us by experience. +He that reads many books must compare one opinion or one style +with another; and, when he compares, must necessarily +distinguish, reject, and prefer. But the account given by +himself of his studies was, that from fourteen to twenty he read +only for amusement, from twenty to twenty-seven for improvement +and instruction; that in the first part of his time he desired +only to know, and in the second he endeavoured to judge.</p> +<p>The Pastorals, which had been for some time handed about among +poets and critics, were at last printed (1709) in Tonson’s +“Miscellany,” in a volume which began with the +Pastorals of Philips, and ended with those of Pope. The +same year was written the “Essay on Criticism,” a +work which displays such extent of comprehension, such nicety of +distinction, such acquaintance with mankind, and such knowledge +both of ancient and modern learning, as are not often attained by +the maturest age and longest experience. It was published +about two years afterwards, and, being praised by Addison in the +<i>Spectator</i>, with sufficient liberality, met with so much +favour as enraged Dennis, “who,” he says, +“found himself attacked, without any manner of provocation +on his side, and attacked in his person instead of his writings, +by one who was wholly a stranger to him, at a time when all the +world knew he was persecuted by fortune; and not only saw that +this was attempted in a clandestine manner, with the utmost +falsehood and calumny, but found that all this was done by a +little, affected hypocrite, who had nothing in his mouth at the +same time but truth, candour, friendship, good-nature, humanity, +and magnanimity.” How the attack was clandestine is +not easily perceived, nor how his person is depreciated; but he +seems to have known something of Pope’s character, in whom +may be discovered an appetite to talk too frequently of his own +virtues. The pamphlet is such as rage might be expected to +dictate. He supposes himself to be asked two questions; +whether the essay will succeed, and who or what is the +author.</p> +<p>Its success he admits to be secured by the false opinions then +prevalent; the author he concludes to be “young and +raw.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“First, because he discovers a sufficiency +beyond his little ability, and hath rashly undertaken a task +infinitely above his force. Secondly, while this little +author struts and affects the dictatorian air, he plainly shows +that at the same time he is under the rod: and, while he pretends +to give laws to others, is a pedantic slave to authority and +opinion. Thirdly, he hath, like schoolboys, borrowed both +from living and dead. Fourthly, he knows not his own mind, +and frequently contradicts himself. Fifthly, he is almost +perpetually in the wrong.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>All these positions he attempts to prove by quotations and +remarks; but his desire to do mischief is greater than his +power. He has, however, justly criticised some passages in +these lines:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“There are whom Heaven has blessed with +store of wit,<br /> +Yet want as much again to manage it:<br /> +For wit and judgment ever are at strife—”</p> +<p>It is apparent that wit has two meanings, and that what is +wanted, though called wit, is truly judgment. So far Dennis +is undoubtedly right: but not content with argument, he will have +a little mirth, and triumphs over the first couplet in terms too +elegant to be forgotten. “By the way, what rare +numbers are here! Would not one swear that this youngster +had espoused some antiquated muse, who had sued out a divorce on +account of impotence, from some superannuated sinner; and, having +been p—d by her former spouse, has got the gout in her +decrepit age, which makes her hobble so damnably?” +This was the man who would reform a nation sinking into +barbarity.</p> +<p>In another place Pope himself allowed that Dennis had detected +one of those blunders which are called “bulls.” +The first edition had this line:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“What is this wit—<br /> +Where wanted scorned; and envied where acquired?”</p> +<p>“How,” says the critic, “can wit be scorned +where it is not? Is not this a figure frequently employed +in Hibernian land! The person that wants this wit may +indeed be scorned, but the scorn shows the honour which the +contemner has for wit.” Of this remark Pope made the +proper use, by correcting the passage.</p> +<p>I have preserved, I think, all that is reasonable in +Dennis’s criticism; it remains that justice be done to his +delicacy. “For his acquaintance,” says Dennis, +“he names Mr. Walsh, who had by no means the qualification +which this author reckons absolutely necessary to a critic, it +being very certain that he was, like this essayer a very +indifferent poet; he loved to be well dressed; and I remember a +little young gentleman whom Mr. Walsh used to take into his +company as a double foil to his person and capacity. +Inquire between Sunning Hill and Oakingham, for a young, short, +equal, gentleman, the very bow of the God of Love, and tell me +whether he be a proper author to make personal reflections? +He may extol the ancients, but he has reason to thank the gods +that he was born a modern; for had he been born of Grecian +parents, and his father consequently had by law had the absolute +disposal of him, his life had been no longer than that of one of +his poems, the life of half a day. Let the person of a +gentleman of his parts be never so contemptible, his inward man +is ten times more ridiculous; it being impossible that his +outward form, though it be that of downright monkey, should +differ so much from human shape as his unthinking, immaterial +part does from human understanding.” Thus began the +hostility between Pope and Dennis, which, though it was suspended +for a short time, never was appeased. Pope seems, at first, +to have attacked him wantonly; but though he always professed to +despise him, he discovers, by mentioning him very often, that he +felt his force or his venom.</p> +<p>Of this essay, Pope declared that he did not expect the sale +to be quick, because “not one gentleman in sixty, even of +liberal education, could understand it.” The +gentleman, and the education of that time, seem to have been of a +lower character than they are of this. He mentioned a +thousand copies as a numerous impression.</p> +<p>Dennis was not his only censurer; the zealous Papists thought +the monks treated with too much contempt, and Erasmus too +studiously praised; but to these objections he had not much +regard.</p> +<p>The “Essay,” has been translated into French by +Hamilton, author of the “Comte de Grammont,” whose +version was never printed, by Robotham, secretary to the king for +Hanover, and by Resnel; and commented by Dr. Warburton, who has +discovered in it such order and connection as was not perceived +by Addison, nor, as it is said, intended by the author.</p> +<p>Almost every poem, consisting of precepts, is so far arbitrary +and immethodical, that many of the paragraphs may change places +with no apparent inconvenience; for of two or more positions, +depending upon some remote and general principle, there is seldom +any cogent reason why one should precede the other. But for +the order in which they stand, whatever it be, a little ingenuity +may easily give a reason. “It is possible,” +says Hooker, “that, by long circumduction, from any one +truth all truth may be inferred.” Of all homogeneous +truths, at least of all truths respecting the same general end, +in whatever series they may be produced, a concatenation by +intermediate ideas may be formed, such as, when it is once shown, +shall appear natural; but if this order be reversed, another mode +of connection equally spacious may be found or made. +Aristotle is praised for naming fortitude first of the cardinal +virtues, as that without which no other virtue can steadily be +practised; but he might, with equal propriety, have placed +prudence and justice before it; since without prudence fortitude +is mad; without justice, it is mischievous. As the end of +method is perspicuity, that series is sufficiently regular that +avoids obscurity; and where there is no obscurity, it will not be +difficult to discover method.</p> +<p>In the <i>Spectator</i> was published the +“Messiah,” which he first submitted to the perusal of +Steele, and corrected in compliance with his criticisms. It +is reasonable to infer from his “Letters” that the +verses on the “Unfortunate Lady” were written about +the time when his “Essay” was published. The +lady’s name and adventures I have sought with fruitless +inquiry. I can therefore tell no more than I have learned +from Mr. Ruffhead, who writes with the confidence of one who +could trust his information. She was a woman of eminent +rank and large fortune, the ward of an uncle, who, having given +her a proper education, expected, like other guardians, that she +should make at least an equal match; and such he proposed to her, +but found it rejected in favour of a young gentleman of inferior +condition. Having discovered the correspondence between the +two lovers, and finding the young lady determined to abide by her +own choice, he supposed that separation might do what can rarely +be done by arguments, and sent her into a foreign country, where +she was obliged to converse only with those from whom her uncle +had nothing to fear. Her lover took care to repeat his +vows; but his letters were intercepted and carried to her +guardian, who directed her to be watched with still greater +vigilance, till of this restraint she grow so impatient that she +bribed a woman servant to procure her a sword, which she directed +to her heart.</p> +<p>From this account, given with evident intention to raise the +lady’s character, it does not appear that she had any claim +to praise nor much to compassion. She seems to have been +impatient, violent, and ungovernable. Her uncle’s +power could not have lasted long; the hour of liberty and choice +would have come in time. But her desires were too hot for +delay, and she liked self-murder better than suspense. Nor +is it discovered that the uncle, whoever he was, is with much +justice delivered to posterity as “a false +guardian.” He seems to have done only that for which +a guardian is appointed; he endeavoured to direct his niece till +she should be able to direct herself. Poetry has not often +been worse employed than in dignifying the amorous fiery of a +raving girl.</p> +<p>Not long after he wrote the “Rape of the Lock,” +the most airy, the most ingenious, and the most delightful off +all his compositions, occasioned by a frolic of gallantry, rather +too familiar, in which Lord Petre cut off a lock of Mrs. Arabella +Fermor’s hair. This, whether stealth or violence, was +so much resented that the commerce of the two families, before +very friendly, was interrupted. Mr. Caryl, a gentleman who, +being secretary to King James’s queen, had followed his +mistress into France, and who, being the author of <i>Sir Solomon +Single</i>, a comedy, and some translations, was entitled to the +notice of a wit, solicited Pope to endeavour a reconciliation by +a ludicrous poem which might bring both the parties to a better +temper. In compliance with Caryl’s request, though +his name was for a long time marked only by the first and last +letter, “C—l,” a poem of two cantos, was +written (1711), as is said, in a fortnight, and sent to the +offended lady, who liked it well enough to show it; and, with the +usual process of literary transactions, the author, dreading a +surreptitious edition, was forced to publish it.</p> +<p>The event is said to have been such as was desired, the +pacification and diversion of all to whom it related, except Sir +George Brown, who complained with some bitterness that, in the +character of Sir Plume, he was made to talk nonsense. +Whether all this be true I have some doubt; for at Paris, a few +years ago, a niece of Mrs. Fermor, who presided in an English +convent, mentioned Pope’s work with very little gratitude, +rather as an insult than an honour; and she may be supposed to +have inherited the opinion of her family. At its first +appearance at was termed by Addison “merum +sal.” Pope, however, saw that it was capable of +improvement; and, having luckily contrived to borrow his +machinery from the Rosicrucians, imparted the scheme with which +his head was teeming to Addison, who told him that his work, as +it stood, was “a delicious little thing,” and gave +him no encouragement to retouch it.</p> +<p>This has been too hastily considered as an instance of +Addison’s jealousy, for, as he could not guess the conduct +of the new design, or the possibilities of pleasure comprised in +a fiction of which there had been no examples, he might very +reasonably and kindly persuade the author to acquiesce in his own +prosperity, and forbear an attempt which he considered as an +unnecessary hazard. Addison’s counsel was happily +rejected. Pope foresaw the future efflorescence of imagery +then budding in his mind, and resolved to spare no art or +industry of cultivation. The soft luxuriance of his fancy +was already shooting, and all the gay varieties of diction were +ready at his hand to colour and embellish it. His attempt +was justified by its success. The “Rape of the +Lock” stands forward, in the classes of literature, as the +most exquisite example of ludicrous poetry. Berkeley +congratulated him upon the display of powers more truly poetical +than he had shown before with elegance of description and +justness of precepts he had now exhibited boundless fertility of +invention. He always considered the intermixture of the +machinery with the action as his most successful exertion of +poetical art. He, indeed, could never afterwards produce +anything of such unexampled excellence. Those performances, +which strike with wonder, are combinations of skilful genius with +happy casualty; and it is not likely that any felicity, like the +discovery of a new race of preternatural agents, should happen +twice to the same man. Of this poem the author was, I +think, allowed to enjoy the praise for a long time without +disturbance. Many years afterwards Dennis published some +remarks upon it with very little force and with no effect; for +the opinion of the public was already settled, and it was no +longer at the mercy of criticism.</p> +<p>About this time he published the “Temple of Fame,” +which, as he tells Steele in their correspondence, he had written +two years before—that is, when he was only twenty-two years +old, an early time of life for so much learning and so much +observation as that work exhibits. On this poem Dennis +afterwards published some remarks, of which the most reasonable +is that some of the lines represent motion as exhibited by +sculpture.</p> +<p>Of the Epistle from “Eloisa to Abelard,” I do not +know the date. His first inclination to attempt a +composition of that tender kind arose, as Mr. Savage told me, +from his perusal of Prior’s “Nut-brown +Maid.” How much he has surpassed Prior’s work +it is not necessary to mention, when perhaps it may be said, with +justice, that he has excelled every composition of the same +kind. The mixture of religious hope and resignation gives +an elevation and dignity to disappointed love, which images +merely natural cannot bestow. The gloom of a convent +strikes the imagination with far greater force than the solitude +of a grove. This piece was, however, not much his favourite +in his later years, though I never heard upon what principle he +slighted it.</p> +<p>In the next year (1713) he published “Windsor +Forest,” of which part was, as he relates, written at +sixteen, about the same time as his Pastorals, and the latter +part was added afterwards. Where the addition begins we are +not told. The lines relating to the peace confess their own +date. It is dedicated to Lord Lansdowne, who was then in +high reputation and influence among the Tories; and it is said +that the conclusion of the poem gave great pain to Addison, both +as a poet and a politician. Reports like this are often +spread with boldness very disproportionate to their +evidence. Why should Addison receive any particular +disturbance from the last lines of “Windsor +Forest”? If contrariety of opinion could poison a +politician, he could not live a day; and, as a poet, he must have +felt Pope’s force of genius much more from many other parts +of his works. The pain that Addison might feel it is not +likely that he would confess; and it is certain that he so well +suppressed his discontent that Pope now thought himself his +favourite, for, having been consulted in the revisal of +“Cato” he introduced it by a prologue; and, when +Dennis published his remarks, undertook, not indeed to vindicate, +but to revenge his friend, by a “Narrative of the Frenzy of +John Dennis.”</p> +<p>There is reason to believe that Addison gave no encouragement +to this disingenuous hostility, for, says Pope, in a letter to +him, “indeed your opinion, that ’tis entirely to be +neglected, would be my own in my own case; but I felt more warmth +here than I did when I first saw his book against myself (though, +indeed, in two minutes it made me heartily merry).” +Addison was not a man on whom such cant of sensibility could make +much impression. He left the pamphlet to itself, having +disowned it to Dennis, and perhaps did not think Pope to have +deserved much by his officiousness.</p> +<p>This year was printed in the <i>Guardian</i> the ironical +comparison between the pastorals of Philips and Pope, a +composition of artifice, criticism, and literature, to which +nothing equal will easily be found. The superiority of Pope +is so ingeniously dissembled, and the feeble lines of Philips so +skilfully preferred, that Steele, being deceived, was unwilling +to print the paper, lest Pope should be offended. Addison +immediately saw the writer’s design, and, as it seems, had +malice enough to conceal his discovery, and to permit a +publication which, by making his friend Philips ridiculous, made +him for ever an enemy to Pope.</p> +<p>It appears that about this time Pope had a strong inclination +to unite the art of painting with that of poetry, and put himself +under the tuition of Jervas. He was near-sighted, and +therefore not formed by nature for a painter; he tried, however, +how far he could advance, and sometimes persuaded his friends to +sit. A picture of Betterton, supposed to be drawn by him, +was in the possession of Lord Mansfield. If this was taken +from the life, he must have begun to paint earlier, for Betterton +was now dead. Pope’s ambition of this new art +produced some encomiastic verses to Jervas, which certainly show +his power as a poet; but I have been told that they betray his +ignorance of painting. He appears to have regarded +Betterton with kindness and esteem, and after his death +published, under his name, a version into modern English of +Chaucer’s Prologues and one of his Tales, which, as was +related by Mr. Harte, were believed to have been the performance +of Pope himself by Fenton, who made him a gay offer of five +pounds if he would show them in the hand of Betterton.</p> +<p>The next year (1713) produced a bolder attempt, by which +profit was sought as well as praise. The poems which he had +hitherto written, however they might have diffused his name, had +made very little addition to his fortune. The allowance +which his father made him, though, proportioned to what he had, +it might be liberal, could not be large; his religion hindered +him from the occupation of any civil employment; and he +complained that he wanted even money to buy books. He +therefore resolved to try how far the favour of the public +extended by soliciting a subscription to a version of the +“Iliad,” with large notes. To print by +subscription was, for some time, a practice peculiar to the +English. The first considerable work for which this +expedient was employed is said to have been Dryden’s +“Virgil,” and it had been tried again with great +success when the <i>Tatlers</i> were collected into volumes.</p> +<p>There was reason to believe that Pope’s attempt would be +successful. He was in the full bloom of reputation and was +personally known to almost all whom dignity of employment or +splendour of reputation had made eminent; he conversed +indifferently with both parties, and never disturbed the public +with his political opinions; and it might be naturally expected, +as each faction then boasted its literary zeal, that the great +men, who on other occasions practised all the violence of +opposition, would emulate each other in their encouragement of a +poet who delighted all, and by whom none had been offended. +With these hopes, he offered an English “Iliad” to +subscribers, in six volumes in quarto, for six guineas, a sum +according to the value of money at that time by no means +inconsiderable, and greater than I believe to have been ever +asked before. His proposal, however, was very favourably +received, and the patrons of literature were busy to recommend +his undertaking and promote his interest. Lord Oxford, +indeed, lamented that such a genius should be wasted upon a work +not original, but proposed no means by which he might live +without it. Addison recommended caution and moderation, and +advised him not to be content with the praise of half the nation +when he might be universally favoured.</p> +<p>The greatness of the design, the popularity of the author, and +the attention of the literary world, naturally raised such +expectations of the future sale, that the booksellers made their +offers with great eagerness; but the highest bidder was Bernard +Lintot, who became proprietor on condition of supplying, at his +own expense, all the copies which were to be delivered to +subscribers, or presented to friends, and paying two hundred +pounds for every volume.</p> +<p>Of the quartos it was, I believe, stipulated that none should +be printed but for the author, that the subscription might not be +depreciated; but Lintot impressed the same pages upon a small +folio, and paper perhaps a little thinner, and sold exactly at +half the price, for half a guinea each volume, books so little +inferior to the quartos that, by fraud of trade, those folios +being afterwards shortened by cutting away the top and bottom, +were sold as copies printed for the subscribers.</p> +<p>Lintot printed two hundred and fifty on royal paper in folio +for two guineas a volume; of the small folio, having printed +seventeen hundred and fifty copies of the first volume, he +reduced the number in the other volumes to a thousand. It +is unpleasant to relate that the bookseller, after all his hopes +and all his liberality, was, by a very unjust and illegal action, +defrauded of his profit. An edition of the English +“Iliad” was printed in Holland in duodecimo, and +imported clandestinely for the gratification of those who were +impatient to read what they could not yet afford to buy. +This fraud could only be counteracted by an edition equally cheap +and more commodious; and Lintot was compelled to contract his +folio at once into a duodecimo, and lose the advantage of an +intermediate gradation. The notes which in the Dutch copies +were placed at the end of each book as they had been in the large +volumes, were now subjoined to the text in the same page, and are +therefore more easily consulted. Of this edition two +thousand five hundred were first printed, and five thousand a few +weeks afterwards; but indeed great numbers were necessary to +produce considerable profit.</p> +<p>Pope, having now emitted his proposals, and engaged not only +his own reputation but in some degree that of his friends who +patronised his subscription, began to be frightened at his own +undertaking, and finding himself at first embarrassed with +difficulties which retarded and oppressed him, he was for a time +timorous and uneasy, had his nights disturbed by dreams of long +journeys through unknown ways, and wished, as he said, +“that somebody would hang him.” This misery, +however, was not of long continuance; he grew by degrees more +acquainted with Homer’s images and expressions, and +practice increased his facility of versification. In a +short time he represents himself as despatching regularly fifty +verses a day, which would show him by an easy computation, the +termination of his labour. His own diffidence was not his +only vexation. He that asks a subscription soon finds that +he has enemies. All who do not encourage him defame +him. He that wants money would rather be thought angry than +poor; and he that wishes to save his money conceals his avarice +by his malice. Addison had hinted his suspicion that Pope +was too much a Tory; and some of the Tories suspected his +principles because he had contributed to the <i>Guardian</i>, +which was carried on by Steele.</p> +<p>To those who censured his politics were added enemies more +dangerous, who called in question his knowledge of Greek, and his +qualifications for a translator of “Homer.” To +these he made no public opposition, but in one of his letters +escapes from them as well as he can. At an age like his, +for he was not more than twenty-five, with an irregular education +and a course of life of which much seems to have passed in +conversation, it is not very likely that he overflowed with +Greek. But when he felt himself deficient he sought +assistance, and what man of learning would refuse to help +him? Minute inquiries into the force of words are less +necessary in translating Homer than other poets, because his +positions are general, and his representations natural, with very +little dependence on local or temporary customs, on those +changeable scenes of artificial life, which, by mingling original +with accidental notions and crowding the mind with images which +time effaces, produces ambiguity in dictation and obscurity in +books. To this open display of unadulterated nature it must +be ascribed that Homer has fewer passages of doubtful meaning +than any other poet either in the learned or in modern +languages. I have read of a man who, being by his ignorance +of Greek compelled to gratify his curiosity with the Latin +printed on the opposite page, declared that from the rude +simplicity of the lines literally rendered he formed nobler ideas +of the Homeric majesty than from the laboured elegance of +polished versions. Those literal translations were always +at hand, and from them he could easily obtain his author’s +sense with sufficient certainty and among the readers of Homer +the number is very small of those who find much in the Greek more +than in the Latin, except the music of the numbers.</p> +<p>If more help was wanting he had the poetical translation of +Eobanus Hessus, an unwearied writer of Latin verses; he had the +French Homers of La Valterie and Dacier, and the English of +Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby. With Chapman, whose work, +though now totally neglected, seems to have been popular almost +to the end of the last century, he had very frequent +consultations, and perhaps never translated any passage till he +had read his version, which he indeed has been sometimes +suspected of using instead of the original. Notes were +likewise to be provided, for the six volumes would have been very +little more than six pamphlets without them. What the mere +perusal of the text could suggest Pope wanted no assistance to +collect or methodise; but more was necessary. Many pages +were to be filled, and learning must supply materials to wit and +judgment. Something might be gathered from Dacier, but no +man loves to be indebted to his contemporaries, and Dacier was +accessible to common readers. Eustathius was therefore +necessarily consulted. To read Eustathius, of whose work +there was then no Latin version, I suspect Pope if he had been +willing not to have been able. Some other was therefore to +be found who had leisure as well as abilities, and he was +doubtless most readily employed who would do much work for little +money.</p> +<p>The history of the notes has never been traced. Broome, +an his preface to his poems, declares himself the commentator +“in part upon the ‘Iliad,’” and it +appears from Fenton’s letter, preserved in the Museum, that +Broome was at first engaged in consulting Eustathius; but that +after a time, whatever was the reason, he desisted. Another +man of Cambridge was then employed, who soon grew weary of the +work, and a third, that was recommended by Thirlby, is now +discovered to have been Jortin, a man since well known to the +learned world, who complained that Pope, having accepted and +approved his performance, never testified any curiosity to see +him, and who professed to have forgotten the terms on which he +worked. The terms which Fenton uses are very mercantile: +“I think at first sight that his performance is very +commendable, and have sent word for him to finish the seventeenth +book, and to send it with his demands for his trouble. I +have here enclosed the specimen; if the rest come before the +return, I will keep them till I receive your order.”</p> +<p>Broome then offered his service a second time, which was +probably accepted, as they had afterwards a closer +correspondence. Parnell contributed the “Life of +Homer,” which Pope found so harsh, that he took great pains +in correcting it; and by his own diligence, with such help as +kindness or money could procure him, in somewhat more than five +years he completed his version of the “Iliad,” with +the notes. He began it in 1712, his twenty-fifth year, and +concluded it in 1718, his thirtieth year. When we find him +translating fifty lines a day, it is natural to suppose that he +would have brought his work to a more speedy conclusion. +The “Iliad,” containing less than sixteen thousand +verses, might have been despatched in less than three hundred and +twenty days by fifty verses in a day. The notes, compiled +with the assistance of his mercenaries, could not be supposed to +require more time than the text. According to this +calculation, the progress of Pope may seem to have been slow; but +the distance is commonly very great between actual performances +and speculative possibility. It is natural to suppose, that +as much as has been done to-day may be done to-morrow; but on the +morrow some difficulty emerges, or some external impediment +obstructs.</p> +<p>Indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure, all take +their turns of retardation; and every long work is lengthened by +a thousand causes that can, and ten thousand that cannot, be +recounted. Perhaps no extensive and multifarious +performance was ever effected within the term originally fixed in +the undertaker’s mind. He that runs against time has +an antagonist not subject to casualties.</p> +<p>The encouragement given to this translation, though report +seems to have overrated it, was such as the world has not often +seen. The subscribers were five hundred and +seventy-five. The copies, for which subscriptions were +given, were six hundred and fifty-four; and only six hundred and +sixty were printed. For these copies Pope had nothing to +pay. He therefore received, including the two hundred +pounds a volume, five thousand three hundred and twenty pounds, +four shillings, without deduction, as the books were supplied by +Lintot.</p> +<p>By the success of his subscription Pope was relieved from +those pecuniary distresses with which, notwithstanding his +popularity, he had hitherto struggled. Lord Oxford had +often lamented his disqualification for public employment, but +never proposed a pension. While the translation of +“Homer” was in its progress, Mr. Craggs, then +Secretary of State, offered to procure him a pension, which, at +least during his ministry, might be enjoyed with secrecy. +This was not accepted by Pope, who told him, however, that, if he +should be pressed with want of money, he would send to him for +occasional supplies. Craggs was not long in power, and was +never solicited for money by Pope, who disdained to beg what he +did not want.</p> +<p>With the product of this subscription, which he had too much +discretion to squander, he secured his future life from want, by +considerable annuities. The estate of the Duke of +Buckingham was found to have been charged with five hundred +pounds a year, payable to Pope, which doubtless his translation +enabled him to purchase.</p> +<p>It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity, that I deduce +thus minutely the history of the English +“Iliad.” It is certainly the noblest version of +poetry which the world has ever seen, and its publication must +therefore be considered as one of the great events in the annals +of learning. To those who have skill to estimate the +excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very +desirable to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it +advanced to correctness. Of such an intellectual process +the knowledge has very rarely been attainable; but happily there +remains the original copy of the “Iliad,” which, +being obtained by Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him +to Mallet, and is now, by the solicitation of the late Dr. Maty, +reposited in the Museum. Between this manuscript, which is +written upon accidental fragments of paper, and the printed +edition, there must have been an intermediate copy, that was +perhaps destroyed as it returned from the press.</p> +<p>From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and +shall exhibit first the printed lines; then, in a small print, +those of the manuscripts, with all their variations. Those +words in the small print, which are given in italics, are +cancelled in the copy, and the words placed under them adopted in +their stead:</p> +<p>The beginning of the first book stands thus:—</p> +<p class="poetry"> The wrath of Peleus’ +son, the direful spring<br /> +Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing,<br /> +That wrath which hurled to Pluto’s gloomy reign<br /> +The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The stern Pelides’ +<i>rage</i>, O Goddess, sing,<br /> + + +wrath<br /> + Of all the woes <i>of Greece</i> too fatal +spring,<br /> + + +Grecian<br /> + That screwed with warriors dead the Phrygian +plain,<br /> + + +heroes<br /> + And <i>peopled the dark with heroes</i> slain:<br /> + filled the shady hell with chiefs +untimely</p> +<p class="poetry">Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,<br /> +Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore,<br /> +Since great Achilles and Atrides strove;<br /> +Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Whose limbs, unburied on the +hostile shore,<br /> + Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore,<br /> + Since first <i>Atrides</i> and <i>Achilles</i> +strove;<br /> + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of +Jove.</p> +<p class="poetry">Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour<br /> +Sprung the fierce strife from what offended Power?<br /> +Latona’s son a dire contagion spread,<br /> +And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead;<br /> +The King of Men his reverend priest defied,<br /> +And for the King’s offence the people died.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Declare, O Goddess, what +offended Power<br /> + Enflamed their <i>rage</i> in that <i>ill-omened</i> +hour;<br /> + + +anger fatal, hapless<br /> + Phœbus himself the <i>dire</i> debate +procured,<br /> + + +fierce<br /> + To avenge the wrongs his injured priest endured;<br +/> + For this the god a dire infection spread,<br /> + And heaped the camp with millions of the dead:<br /> + The King of men the sacred sire defied,<br /> + And for the King’s offence the people +died.</p> +<p class="poetry">For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain<br +/> +His captive daughter from the Victor’s chain;<br /> +Suppliant the venerable father stands,<br /> +Apollo’s awful ensigns grace his hands,<br /> +By these he begs, and, lowly bending down,<br /> +Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown.</p> +<p class="poetry"> For Chryses sought by +<i>presents to regain</i><br /> + + +costly gifts to gain<br /> + His captive daughter from the Victor’s +chain;<br /> + Suppliant the venerable father stands,<br /> + Apollo’s awful ensigns graced his hands.<br /> + By these he begs, and, lowly bending down<br /> + <i>The golden sceptre</i> and the laurel crown,<br +/> + Presents the sceptre<br /> + <i>For these as ensigns of his god he bare</i>,<br +/> + <i>The god who sends his golden shaft afar</i>;<br +/> + Then low on earth the venerable man,<br /> + Suppliant before the brother kings began.</p> +<p class="poetry">He sued to all, but chief implored for +grace,<br /> +The brother kings of Atreus’ royal race;<br /> +Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crowned,<br /> +And Troy’s proud walls lie level with the ground;<br /> +May Jove restore you, when your toils are o’er,<br /> +Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.</p> +<p class="poetry"> To all he sued, but chief +implored for grace<br /> + The brother kings of Atreus’ royal race.<br /> + Ye <i>sons of Atreus</i>, may your vows be +crowned,<br /> + kings and +warriors<br /> + <i>Your labours</i>, <i>by the gods be all your +labours crowned</i>;<br /> + <i>So may the gods your arms with conquest +bless</i>,<br /> + <i>And</i> Troy’s proud walls <i>lie</i> level +with the ground;<br /> + Till laid<br /> + <i>And crown your labours with desired +success</i>;<br /> + May Jove restore you when your toils are +o’er<br /> + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, oh! relieve a wretched parent’s +pain,<br /> +And give Chryses to these arms again;<br /> +If mercy fail, yet let my present move,<br /> +And dread avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But, oh! relieve a hapless +parent’s pain,<br /> + And give my daughter to these arms again;<br /> + <i>Receive my gifts</i>, if mercy fails, yet let my +present move,<br /> + And fear <i>the god who deals his darts +around</i>,<br /> + + +avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent +declare,<br /> +The priest to reverence, and release the fair:<br /> +Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,<br /> +Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied.</p> +<p class="poetry"> He said, the Greeks their +joint assent declare,<br /> + <i>The father said</i>, <i>the generous Greeks +relent</i>,<br /> + To accept the ransom, and restore the fair:<br /> + <i>Revere the priest</i>, <i>and speak their joint +assent</i>;<br /> + Not so <i>the tyrant</i>; he, with kingly pride,<br +/> + + +Atrides,<br /> + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied<br /> + + +[Not so the tyrant. <span class="smcap">Dryden</span>.]</p> +<p>Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that +there was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with +interlineations.</p> +<p>The beginning of the second book varies very little from the +printed page, and is therefore set down without any +parallel. The few slight differences do not require to be +elaborately displayed.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Now pleasing sleep had sealed +each mortal eye:<br /> +Stretched in the tents the Grecian leaders lie;<br /> +The Immortals slumbered on their thrones above,<br /> +All but the ever-wakeful eye of Jove.<br /> +To honour Thetis’ son he bends his care,<br /> +And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.<br /> +Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,<br /> +And thus <i>commands</i> the vision of the night: directs<br /> +Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,<br /> +To Agamemnon’s royal tent repair;<br /> +Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train,<br /> +March all his legions to the dusty plain.<br /> +<i>Now tell the King</i> ’tis given him to destroy<br /> +Declare even now<br /> +The lofty <i>walls</i> of wide-extended Troy; towers<br /> +For now no more the gods with fate contend;<br /> +At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.<br /> +Destruction <i>hovers</i> o’er yon devoted wall, hangs<br +/> +And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.</p> +<p>Invocation to the catalogue of ships.</p> +<p class="poetry">Say, virgins, seated round the throne +divine,<br /> +All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!<br /> +Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasured +height,<br /> +And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight<br /> +(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,<br /> +But guess by rumour, and but boast we know),<br /> +Oh! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,<br /> +Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came!<br /> +To count them all demands a thousand tongues,<br /> +A throat of brass and adamantine lungs.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Now virgin goddesses, +immortal nine!<br /> + That round Olympus’ heavenly summit shine,<br +/> + Who see through heaven and earth, and hell +profound,<br /> + And all things know, and all things can resound!<br +/> + Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,<br /> + What nations followed, and what chiefs command;<br +/> + (For doubtful fame distracts mankind below,<br /> + And nothing can we tell, and nothing know)<br /> + Without your aid, to count the unnumbered train,<br +/> +A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Book V. <i>v.</i> 1.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But Pallas now Tydides’ +soul inspires,<br /> +Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires:<br /> +Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,<br /> +And crown her hero with distinguished praise,<br /> +High on his helm celestial lightnings play,<br /> +His beamy shield emits a living ray;<br /> +The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,<br /> +Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.<br /> + But Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires,<br /> +Fills with her <i>rage</i>, and warms with all her fires;<br /> + + +force<br /> +O’er all the Greeks decrees his fame to raise,<br /> +Above the Greeks <i>her warrior’s</i> fame to raise,<br /> + + +his deathless<br /> +And crown her hero with <i>immortal</i> praise: distinguished<br +/> +<i>Bright from</i> his beamy <i>crest the</i> lightnings play,<br +/> + High +on helm<br /> +From his broad buckler flashed the living ray;<br /> +High on his helm celestial lightnings play,<br /> +His beamy shield emits a living ray;<br /> +The goddess with her breath the flame supplies,<br /> +Bright as the star whose fires in autumn rise;<br /> +Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies,<br /> +Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies:<br /> +The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,<br /> +Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.</p> +<p class="poetry">When fresh he rears his radiant orb to +sight,<br /> +And bathed in ocean shoots a keener light,<br /> +Such glories Pallas on the chief bestowed,<br /> +Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flowed;<br /> +Onward she drives him, furious to engage,<br /> +Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage.</p> +<p class="poetry"> When fresh he rears his +radiant orb to sight,<br /> + And gilds old ocean with a blaze of light,<br /> + Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies,<br +/> + Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and +skies:<br /> + Such glories Pallas on her chief bestowed,<br /> + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour +flowed,<br /> + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour +flowed,<br /> + Onward she drives him <i>headlong</i> to engage,<br +/> + + +furious<br /> + Where the <i>war bleeds</i>, and where the +<i>fiercest</i> rage.<br /> + + +fight burns +thickest</p> +<p class="poetry">The sons of Dares first the combat sought,<br +/> +A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;<br /> +In Vulcan’s fane the father’s days were led,<br /> +The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;</p> +<p class="poetry"> There lived a +Trojan—Dares was his name,<br /> + The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame;<br /> + The sons of Dares first the combat sought,<br /> + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Conclusion of</i> Book VIII. +<i>v.</i> 687.</p> +<p class="poetry">As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,<br +/> +O’er heaven’s clear azure spreads her sacred +light,<br /> +When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,<br /> +And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene;<br /> +Around her throne the vivid planets roll,<br /> +And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole:<br /> +O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,<br /> +And tip with silver every mountain’s head:<br /> +Then shine the vales—the rocks in prospect rise,<br /> +A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;<br /> +The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,<br /> +Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.<br /> +So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,<br /> +And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays;<br /> +The long reflections of the distant fires<br /> +Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires.<br /> +A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild,<br /> +And shoot a shady lustre o’er the field;<br /> +Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend,<br /> +Whose umbered arms by fits thick flashes send;<br /> +Loud neigh the coursers o’er their heaps of corn,<br /> +And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.</p> +<p class="poetry"> As when in stillness of the +silent night,<br /> + As when the moon in all her lustre bright,<br /> + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,<br /> + O’er Heaven’s <i>clear</i> azure +<i>sheds</i> her <i>silver</i> light;<br /> + + +pure spreads +sacred<br /> + As still in air the trembling lustre stood,<br /> + And o’er its golden border shoots a flood;<br +/> + When <i>no loose gale</i> disturbs the deep +serene,<br /> + + +not a breath<br /> + And <i>no dim</i> cloud o’ercasts the solemn +scene;<br /> + + +not a<br /> + Around her silver throne the planets glow,<br /> + And stars unnumbered <i>trembling beams +bestow</i>;<br /> + Around her throne the vivid planets roll,<br /> + And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole:<br /> + Clear gleams of light <i>o’er the dark trees +are seen</i>,<br /> + + +o’er the dark trees a yellow sheds<br /> + O’er the dark trees a yellower <i>green</i> +they shed,<br /> + + +gleam<br /> + + +verdure<br /> + And tip with silver <i>all the mountain heads</i><br +/> + + +forest<br /> + And tip with silver every mountain’s head.<br +/> + The valleys open, and the forests rise,<br /> + The vales appear, the rocks in prospect rise,<br /> + Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,<br +/> + All nature stands revealed before our eyes;<br /> + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies.<br /> + The conscious shepherd, joyful at the sight,<br /> + Eyes the blue vault, and numbers every light.<br /> + The conscious swains <i>rejoicing at the +sight</i>,<br /> + + +shepherds gazing with delight<br /> + Eye the blue vault, and bless the <i>vivid</i> +light.<br /> + + +glorious<br /> + + +useful<br /> + So many flames before <i>the navy</i> blaze,<br /> + + +proud Ilion<br /> + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays,<br +/> + Wide o’er the fields to Troy extend the +gleams,<br /> + And tip the distant spires with fainter beams;<br /> + The long reflections of the distant fires<br /> + Gild the high walls, and tremble on the spires;<br +/> + Gleam on the walls, and <i>tremble on the</i> +spires;<br /> + A thousand fires at distant stations bright,<br /> + Gild the dark prospect, and dispel the night.</p> +<p>Of these specimens every man who has cultivated poetry, or who +delights to trace the mind from the rudeness of its first +conceptions to the elegance of its last, will naturally desire a +great number; but most other readers are already tired, and I am +not writing only to poets and philosophers.</p> +<p>The “Iliad” was published volume by volume, as the +translation proceeded. The four first books appeared in +1713. The expectation of this work was undoubtedly high, +and every man who had connected his name with criticism or poetry +was desirous of such intelligence as might enable him to talk +upon the popular topic. Halifax, who, by having been first +a poet, and then a patron of poetry, had acquired the right of +being a judge, was willing to hear some books while they were yet +unpublished. Of this rehearsal Pope afterwards gave the +following account:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The famous Lord Halifax was rather a +pretender to taste than really possessed of it. When I had +finished the two or three first books of my translation of the +‘Iliad,’ that lord desired to have the pleasure of +hearing them read at his house. Addison, Congreve, and +Garth were there at the reading. In four or five places +Lord Halifax stopped me very civilly, and with a speech each time +of much the same kind, ‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope, but +there is something in that passage that does not please me. +Be so good as to mark the place, and consider it a little at your +leisure. I am sure you can give it a little +turn.’ I returned from Lord Halifax’s with Dr. +Garth in his chariot, and as we were going along was saying to +the Doctor that my lord had laid me under a great deal of +difficulty by such loose and general observations; that I had +been thinking over the passages almost ever since, and could not +guess at what it was that offended his lordship in either of +them. Garth laughed heartily at my embarrassment: said I +had not been long enough acquainted with Lord Halifax to know his +way yet; that I need not puzzle myself about looking those places +over and over when I got home. ‘All you need +do,’ says he, ‘is to leave them just as they are, +call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him for his +kind observations on those passages, and then read them to him as +altered. I have known him much longer than you have, and +will be answerable for the event.’ I followed his +advice, waited on Lord Halifax some time after; said I hoped he +would find his objections to those passages removed; read them to +him exactly as they were at first; and his lordship was extremely +pleased with them, and cried out, ‘Ay, now they are +perfectly right; nothing can be better.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is seldom that the great or the wise suspect that they are +despised or cheated. Halifax, thinking this a lucky +opportunity of securing immortality, made some advances of favour +and some overtures of advantage to Pope, which he seems to have +received with sullen coldness. All our knowledge of this +transaction is derived from a single letter (December 1, 1714), +in which Pope says, “I am obliged to you, both for the +favours you have done me and those you intend me. I +distrust neither your will nor your memory when it is to do good; +and if I ever become troublesome or solicitous, it must not be +out of expectation, but out of gratitude. Your lordship may +cause me to live agreeably in the town, or contentedly in the +country, which is really all the difference I set between an easy +fortune and a small one. It is indeed a high strain of +generosity in you to think of making me easy all my life, only +because I have been so happy as to divert you some few hours; +but, if I may have leave to add it is because you think me no +enemy to my native country, there will appear a better reason; +for I must of consequence be very much (as I sincerely am) yours, +&c.”</p> +<p>These voluntary offers, and this faint acceptance, ended +without effect. The patron was not accustomed to such +frigid gratitude; and the poet fed his own pride with the dignity +of independence. They probably were suspicious of each +other. Pope would not dedicate till he saw at what rate his +praise was valued; he would be “troublesome out of +gratitude, not expectation.” Halifax thought himself +entitled to confidence, and would give nothing unless he knew +what he should receive. Their commerce had its beginning in +hope of praise on one side and of money on the other, and ended +because Pope was less eager of money than Halifax of +praise. It is not likely that Halifax had any personal +benevolence to Pope; it is evident that Pope looked on Halifax +with scorn and hatred.</p> +<p>The reputation of this great work failed of gaining him a +patron but it deprived him of a friend. Addison and he were +now at the head of poetry and criticism, and both in such a state +of elevation that, like the two rivals in the Roman State, one +could no longer bear an equal, nor the other a superior. Of +the gradual abatement of kindness between friends, the beginning +is often scarcely discernible to themselves, and the process is +continued by petty provocations, and incivilities sometimes +peevishly returned, and sometimes contemptuously neglected, which +would escape all attention but that of pride, and drop from any +memory but that of resentment. That the quarrel of these +two wits should be minutely deduced is not to be expected from a +writer to whom, as Homer says, “nothing but rumour has +reached, and who has no personal knowledge.”</p> +<p>Pope doubtless approached Addison, when the reputation of +their wit first brought them together, with the respect due to a +man whose abilities were acknowledged, and who, having attained +that eminence to which he was himself aspiring, had in his hands +the distribution of literary fame. He paid court with +sufficient diligence by his prologue to “Cato,” by +his abuse of Dennis, and with praise yet more direct, by his poem +on the “Dialogues on Medals,” of which the immediate +publication was then intended. In all this there was no +hypocrisy for he confessed that he found in Addison something +more pleasing than in any other man.</p> +<p>It may be supposed that, as Pope saw himself favoured by the +world, and more frequently compared his own powers with those of +others, his confidence increased, and his submission lessened; +and that Addison felt no delight from the advances of a young +wit, who might soon contend with him for the highest place. +Every great man, of whatever kind be his greatness, has among his +friends those who officiously or insidiously quicken his +attention to offences, heighten his disgust, and stimulate his +resentment. Of such adherents Addison doubtless had many; +and Pope was now too high to be without them. From the +emission and reception of the proposals for the +“Iliad,” the kindness of Addison seems to have +abated. Jervas the painter once pleased himself (August 20, +1714) with imagining that he had re-established their friendship, +and wrote to Pope that Addison once suspected him of too close a +confederacy with Swift, but was now satisfied with his +conduct. To this Pope answered, a week after, that his +engagements to Swift were such as his services in regard to the +subscription demanded, and that the Tories never put him under +the necessity of asking leave to be grateful. +“But,” says he, “as Mr. Addison must be the +judge in what regards himself, and seems to have no very just one +in regard to me, so I must own to you I expect nothing but +civility from him.” In the same letter he mentions +Philips, as having been busy to kindle animosity between them; +but in a letter to Addison he expresses some consciousness of +behaviour, inattentively deficient in respect.</p> +<p>Of Swift’s industry in promoting the subscription there +remains the testimony of Kennet, no friend to either him or +Pope.</p> +<blockquote><p>“November 2, 1713, Dr. Swift came into the +coffee-house, and had a bow from everybody but me, who, I +confess, could not but despise him. When I came to the +antechamber to wait, before prayers, Dr. Swift was the principal +man of talk and business, and acted as master of requests. +Then he instructed a young nobleman that the <i>best poet in +England</i> was Mr. Pope (a papist), who had begun a translation +of ‘Homer’ into English verse, for which <i>he must +have them all subscribe</i>: for, says he, the author <i>shall +not</i> begin to print till <i>I have</i> a thousand guineas for +him.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>About this time it is likely that Steele, who was, with all +his political fury, good-natured and officious, procured an +interview between these angry rivals, which ended in aggravated +malevolence. On this occasion, if the reports be true, Pope +made his complaint with frankness and spirit, as a man +undeservedly neglected or opposed; and Addison affected a +contemptuous unconcern, and in a calm, even voice reproached Pope +with his vanity, and, telling him of the improvements which his +early works had received from his own remarks and those of +Steele, said that he, being now engaged in public business, had +no longer any care for his poetical reputation, nor had any other +desire with regard to Pope than that he should not, by too much +arrogance, alienate the public.</p> +<p>To this Pope is said to have replied with great keenness and +severity, upbraiding Addison with perpetual dependence, and with +the abuse of those qualifications which he had obtained at the +public cost, and charging him with mean endeavours to obstruct +the progress of rising merit. The contest rose so high that +they parted at last without any interchange of civility.</p> +<p>The first volume of “Homer” was (1715) in time +published; and a rival version of the first “Iliad,” +for rivals the time of their appearance inevitably made them, was +immediately printed, with the name of Tickell. It was soon +perceived that, among the followers of Addison, Tickell had the +preference, and the critics and poets divided into +factions. “I,” says Pope, “have the town, +that is, the mob, on my side; but it is not uncommon for the +smaller party to supply by industry what it wants in +numbers. I appeal to the people as my rightful judges, and, +while they are not inclined to condemn me, shall not fear the +high-flyers at Button’s.” This opposition he +immediately imputed to Addison, and complained of it in terms +sufficiently resentful to Craggs, their common friend.</p> +<p>When Addison’s opinion was asked, he declared the +versions to be both good, but Tickell’s the best that had +ever been written; and sometimes said that they were both good, +but that Tickell had more of “Homer.”</p> +<p>Pope was now sufficiently irritated; his reputation and his +interest were at hazard. He once intended to print together +the four versions of Dryden, Maynwaring, Pope, and Tickell, that +they might be readily compared and fairly estimated. This +design seems to have been defeated by the refusal off Tonson, who +was the proprietor of the other three versions.</p> +<p>Pope intended, at another time, a rigorous criticism of +Tickell’s translation, and had marked a copy, which I have +seen, in all places that appeared defective. But while he +was thus meditating defence or revenge, his adversary sunk before +him without a blow; the voice of the public was not long divided, +and the preference universally given to Pope’s +performance. He was convinced, by adding one circumstance +to another, that the other translation was the work of Addison +himself; but, if he knew it in Addison’s lifetime, it does +not appear that he told it. He left his illustrious +antagonist to lie punished by what has been considered as the +most painful of all reflections—the remembrance of a crime +perpetrated in vain. The other circumstances of their +quarrel were thus related by Pope:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Philips seemed to have been encouraged to +abuse me in coffee-houses and conversations, and Gildon wrote a +thing about Wycherley, in which he had abused both me and my +relations very grossly. Lord Warwick himself told me one +day that it was in vain for me to endeavour to be well with Mr. +Addison; that his jealous temper would never admit of a settled +friendship between us; and, to convince me of what he had said, +assured me that Addison had encouraged Gildon to publish those +scandals, and had given him ten guineas after they were +published. The next day, while I was heated with what I had +heard, I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I +was not unacquainted with this behaviour of his; that if I was to +speak severely of him in return for it, it should not be in such +a dirty way; that I should rather tell him himself fairly of his +faults, and allow his good qualities; and that it should be +something in the following manner. I then adjoined the +first sketch of what has since been called my satire on +Addison. Mr Addison used me very civilly ever +after.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The verses on Addison, when they were sent to Atterbury, were +considered by him as the most excellent of Pope’s +performances; and the writer was advised, since he knew where his +strength lay, not to suffer it to remain unemployed. This +year (1715), being by the subscription enabled to live more by +choice, having persuaded his father to sell their estate at +Binfield, he purchased, I think only for his life, that house at +Twickenham to which his residence afterwards procured so much +celebration, and removed thither with his father and +mother. Here he planted the vines and the quincunx which +his verses mention; and being under the necessity of making a +subterraneous passage to a garden on the other side of the road, +he adorned it with fossil bodies, and dignified it with the title +of a grotto; a place of silence and retreat, from which he +endeavoured to persuade his friends and himself that cares and +passions could be excluded.</p> +<p>A grotto is not often the wish or pleasure of all Englishmen, +who has more frequent need to solicit than exclude the sun; but +Pope’s excavation was requisite as an entrance to his +garden; and, as some men try to be proud of their defects, he +extracted an ornament from an inconvenience, and vanity produced +a grotto where necessity enforced a passage. It may be +frequently remarked of the studious and speculative, that they +are proud of trifles, and that their amusements seem frivolous +and childish. Whether it be that men, conscious of great +reputation, think themselves above the reach of censure, and safe +in the admission of negligent indulgences, or that mankind expect +from elevated genius a uniformity of greatness, and watch its +degradation with malicious wonder, like him who, having followed +with his eye an eagle into the clouds, should lament that she +ever descended to a perch.</p> +<p>While the volumes of his “Homer” were annually +published, he collected his former works (1717) into one quarto +volume, to which he prefixed a preface, written with great +sprightliness and elegance, which was afterwards reprinted, with +some passages subjoined that he at first omitted. Other +marginal additions of the same kind he made in the later editions +of his poems. Waller remarks, that poets lose half their +praise, because the reader knows not what they have +blotted. Pope’s voracity of fame taught him the art +of obtaining the accumulated honour both of what he had +published, and of what he had suppressed. In this year his +father died suddenly, in his seventy-fifth year, having passed +twenty-nine years in privacy. He is not known but by the +character which his son has given him. If the money with +which he retired was all gotten by himself, he had traded very +successfully in times when sudden riches were rarely +attainable.</p> +<p>The publication of the “Iliad” was at last +completed in 1720. The splendour and success of this work +raised Pope many enemies that endeavoured to depreciate his +abilities. Burnet, who was afterwards a judge of no mean +reputation, censured him in a piece called +“Homerides” before it was published. Ducket +likewise endeavoured to make him ridiculous. Dennis was the +perpetual persecutor of all his studies. But whoever his +critics were, their writings are lost, and the names, which are +preserved are preserved in the “Dunciad.”</p> +<p>In this disastrous year (1720) of national infatuation, when +more riches than Peru can boast were expected from the South Sea, +when the contagion of avarice tainted every mind, and even poets +panted after wealth, Pope was seized with the universal passion, +and ventured some of his money. The stock rose in its +price, and for a while he thought himself the lord of +thousands. But this dream of happiness did not last long, +and he seems to have waked soon enough to get clear with the loss +of what he once thought himself to have won, and perhaps not +wholly of that.</p> +<p>Next year he published some select poems of his friend Dr. +Parnell, with a very elegant dedication to the Earl of Oxford, +who, after all his struggles and dangers, then lived in +retirement, still under the frown of a victorious faction, who +could take no pleasure in hearing his praise. He gave the +same year (1721) an edition of Shakespeare. His name was +now of so much authority that Tonson thought himself entitled, by +annexing it, to demand a subscription of six guineas for +Shakespeare’s plays in six quarto volumes. Nor did +his expectation much deceive him, for, of seven hundred and fifty +which he printed, he dispersed a great number at the price +proposed. The reputation of that edition indeed, sunk, +afterwards so low, that one hundred and forty copies were sold at +sixteen shillings each. On this undertaking, to which Pope +was induced by a reward of two hundred and seventeen pounds +twelve shillings, he seems never to have reflected afterwards +without vexation; for Theobald a man of heavy diligence, with +very slender powers, first, in a book called “Shakespeare +Restored,” and then in a formal edition, detected his +deficiencies with all the insolence of victory; and as he was now +high enough to be feared and hated, Theobald had from others all +the help that could be supplied, by the desire of humbling a +haughty character. From this time Pope became an enemy to +editors, collators, commentators, and verbal critics, and hoped +to persuade the world that he miscarried in this undertaking only +by having a mind too great for such minute employment.</p> +<p>Pope in his edition undoubtedly did many things wrong, and +left many things undone; but let him not be defrauded of his due +praise. He was the first that knew, at least the first that +told, by what helps the text might be improved. If he +inspected the early editions negligently, he taught others to be +more accurate. In his preface he expanded with great skill +and elegance the character which had been given of Shakespeare by +Dryden; and he drew the public attention upon his works, which, +though often mentioned, had been little read. Soon after +the appearance of the “Iliad,” resolving not to let +the general kindness cool, he published proposals for a +translation of the “Odyssey,” in five volumes, for +five guineas. He was willing, however, now to have +associates in his labour, being either weary with toiling upon +another’s thoughts, or having heard, as Ruffhead relates, +that Fenton and Broome had already begun the work, and liking +better to have them confederates than rivals. In the +patent, instead of saying that he had “translated” +the “Odyssey,” as he had said of the +“Iliad,” he says that he had “undertaken” +a translation: and in the proposals, the subscription is said to +be not solely for his own use, but for that of “two of his +friends who have assisted him in his work.”</p> +<p>In 1723, while he was engaged in this new version, he appeared +before the Lords at the memorable trial of Bishop Atterbury, with +whom he had lived in great familiarity, and frequent +correspondence. Atterbury had honestly recommended to him +the study of the Popish controversy, in hope of his conversion; +to which Pope answered in a manner that cannot much recommend his +principles or his judgment. In questions and projects of +learning they agree better. He was called at the trial to +give an account of Atterbury’s domestic life and private +employment, that it might appear how little time he had left for +plots. Pope had but few words to utter, and in those few he +made several blunders.</p> +<p>His letters to Atterbury express the utmost esteem, +tenderness, and gratitude. “Perhaps,” says he, +“it is not only in this world that I may have cause to +remember the Bishop of Rochester.” At their last +interview in the Tower, Atterbury presented him with a Bible.</p> +<p>Of the “Odyssey” Pope translated only twelve +books. The rest were the work of Broome and Fenton: the +notes were written wholly by Broome, who was not over liberally +rewarded. The public was carefully kept ignorant of the +several shares; and an account was subjoined at the conclusion +which is now known not to be true. The first copy of +Pope’s books, with those of Fenton, are to be seen in the +Museum. The parts of Pope are less interlined than the +“Iliad,” and the latter books of the +“Iliad” less than the former. He grew dexterous +by practice, and every sheet enabled him to write the next with +more facility. The books of Fenton have very few +alterations by the hand of Pope. Those of Broome have not +been found, but Pope complained, as it is reported, that he had +much trouble in correcting them. His contract with Lintot +was the same as for the “Iliad,” except that only one +hundred pounds were to be paid him for each volume. The +number of subscribers were five hundred and seventy-four, and of +copies eight hundred and nineteen, so that his profit, when he +had paid his assistants, was still very considerable. The +work was finished in 1723; and from that time he resolved to make +no more translations. The sale did not answer +Lintot’s expectation, and he then pretended to discover +something of a fraud in Pope, and commenced or threatened a suit +in Chancery.</p> +<p>On the English “Odyssey” a criticism was published +by Spence, at that time Prelector of Poetry at Oxford, a man +whose learning was not very great, and whose mind was not very +powerful. His criticism, however, was commonly just; what +he thought he thought rightly, and his remarks were recommended +by his coolness and candour. In him Pope had the first +experience of a critic without malevolence, who thought it as +much his duty to display beauties as expose faults, who censured +with respect, and praised with alacrity. With this +criticism Pope was so little offended, that he sought the +acquaintance of the writer, who lived with him from that time in +great familiarity, attended him in his last hours, and compiled +memorials of his conversation. The regard of Pope +recommended him to the great and powerful, and he obtained very +valuable preferments in the Church. Not long after Pope was +returning home from a visit in a friend’s coach, which, in +passing a bridge, was overturned into the water; the +window’s were closed, and, being unable to force them open, +he was in danger of immediate death, when the postillion snatched +him out by breaking the glass, of which the fragments cut two of +his fingers in such a manner that he lost their use.</p> +<p>Voltaire, who was then in England, sent him a letter of +consolation. He had been entertained by Pope at his table, +where he talked with so much grossness that Mrs. Pope was driven +from the room. Pope discovered, by a trick, that he was a +spy for the Court, and never considered him as a man worthy of +confidence. He soon afterwards (1727) joined with Swift, +who was then in England, to publish three volumes of +“Miscellanies,” in which, amongst other things, he +inserted the “Memoirs of a Parish Clerk,” in ridicule +of Burnet’s importance in his own history, and a +“Debate upon Black and White Horses,” written in all +the formalities of a legal process by the assistance, as is said, +of Mr. Fortescue, afterwards Master of the Rolls. Before +these “Miscellanies” is a preface signed by Swift and +Pope, but apparently written by Pope, in which he makes a +ridiculous and romantic complaint of the robberies committed upon +authors by the clandestine seizure and sale of their +papers. He tells in tragic strains how “the cabinets +of the sick and the closets of the dead have been broken open and +ransacked,” as if those violences were often committed for +papers of uncertain and accidental value which are rarely +provoked by real treasures—as if epigrams and essays were +in danger where gold and diamonds are safe. A cat hunted +for his musk is, according to Pope’s account, but the +emblem of a wit winded by booksellers. His complaint, +however, received some attestation, for the same year the letters +written by him to Mr. Cromwell in his youth were sold by Mrs. +Thomas to Curll, who printed them.</p> +<p>In these “Miscellanies” was first published the +“Art of Sinking in Poetry,” which, by such a train of +consequences as usually passes in literary quarrels, gave in a +short time, according to Pope’s account, occasion to the +“Dunciad.”</p> +<p>In the following year (1728) he began to put Atterbury’s +advice in practice, and showed his satirical powers by publishing +the “Dunciad,” one of his greatest and most elaborate +performances, in which he endeavoured to sink into contempt all +the writers by whom he had been attacked, and some others whom he +thought unable to defend themselves. At the head of the +“Dunces” he placed poor Theobald, whom he accused of +ingratitude, but whose real crime was supposed to be that of +having revised Shakespeare more happily than himself. This +satire had the effect which he intended, by blasting the +characters which it touched. Ralph, who, unnecessarily +interposing in the quarrel, got a place in a subsequent edition, +complained that for a time he was in danger of starving, as the +booksellers had no longer any confidence in his capacity. +The prevalence of this poem was gradual and slow: the plan, if +not wholly new, was little understood by common readers. +Many of the allusions required illustration; the names were often +expressed only by the initial and final letters, and if they had +been printed at length were such as few had known or +recollected. The subject itself had nothing generally +interesting, for whom did it concern to know that one or another +scribbler was a dunce? If, therefore, it had been possible +for those who were attacked to conceal their pain and their +resentment, the “Dunciad” might have made its way +very slowly in the world. This, however, was not to be +expected: every man is of importance to himself, and therefore, +in his own opinion, to others; and, supposing the world already +acquainted with all his pleasures and his pains, is perhaps the +first to publish injuries or misfortunes, which had never been +known unless related by himself, and at which those that hear +them will only laugh, for no man sympathises with the sorrows of +vanity.</p> +<p>The history of the “Dunciad” is very minutely +related by Pope himself in a dedication which he wrote to Lord +Middlesex in the name of Savage.</p> +<blockquote><p>“I will relate the war of the +‘Dunces’ (for so it has been commonly called), which +began in the year 1727, and ended in 1730</p> +<p>“When Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope thought it proper, for +reasons specified in the preface to their +‘Miscellanies,’ to publish such little pieces of +theirs as had occasionally got abroad, there was added to them +the ‘Treatise of the Bathos, or the Art of Sinking in +Poetry.’ It happened that in one chapter of this +piece the several species of bad poets were ranged in classes, to +which were prefixed almost all the letters of the alphabet (the +greatest part of them at random); but such was the number of +poets eminent in that art, that some one or other took every +letter to himself. All fell into so violent a fury, that, +for half a year or more, the common newspapers (in most of which +they had some property, as being hired writers) were filled with +the most abusive falsehoods and scurrilities they could possibly +devise, a liberty no way to be wondered at in those people, and +in those papers, that, for many years during the uncontrolled +license of the Press, had aspersed almost all the great +characters of the age; and this with impunity, their own persons +and names being utterly secret and obscure. This gave Mr. +Pope the thought that he had now some opportunity of doing good +by detecting and dragging into light these common enemies of +mankind, since, to invalidate this universal slander, it sufficed +to show what contemptible men were the authors of it. He +was not without hopes that, by manifesting the dulness of those +who had only malice to recommend them, either the booksellers +would not find their account in employing them, or the men +themselves, when discovered, want courage to proceed in so +unlawful an occupation. This it was that gave birth to the +‘Dunciad,’ and he thought it a happiness that, by the +late flood of slander on himself, he had acquired such a peculiar +right over their names as was necessary to this design.</p> +<p>“On the 12th of March, 1729, at St. James’s, that +poem was presented to the king and queen (who had before been +pleased to read it) by the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole, +and some days after the whole impression was taken and dispersed +by several noblemen and persons of the first distinction.</p> +<p>“It is certainly a true observation that no people are +so impatient of censure as those who are the greatest slanderers, +which was wonderfully exemplified on this occasion. On the +day the book was first vended a crowd of authors besieged the +shop; entreaties, advices, threats of law and battery—nay, +cries of treason—were all employed to hinder the coming out +of the ‘Dunciad.’ On the other side, the +booksellers and hawkers made as great efforts to procure +it. What could a few poor authors do against so great a +majority as the public? There was no stopping a torrent +with a finger, so out it came.</p> +<p>“Many ludicrous circumstances attended it. The +‘Dunces’ (for by this name they were called) held +weekly clubs, to consult of hostilities against the author. +One wrote a letter to a great minister, assuring him Mr. Pope was +the greatest enemy the Government had, and another bought his +image in clay to execute him in effigy, with which sad sort of +satisfaction the gentlemen were a little comforted. Some +false editions of the book, having an owl in their frontispiece, +the true one, to distinguish it, fixed in his stead an ass laden +with authors. Then another surreptitious one being printed +with the same ass, the new edition in octavo returned for +distinction to the owl again. Hence arose a great contest +of booksellers against booksellers, and advertisements against +advertisements, some recommending the edition of the owl, and +others the edition of the ass, by which names they came to be +distinguished, to the great honour also of the gentlemen of the +‘Dunciad.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Pope appears by this narrative to have contemplated his +victory over the “Dunces” with great exultation; and +such was his delight in the tumult which he had raised, that for +a while his natural sensibility was suspended, and he read +reproaches and invectives without emotion, considering them only +as the necessary effects of that pain which he rejoiced in having +given. It cannot, however, be concealed that, by his own +confession, he was the aggressor, for nobody believes that the +letters in the “Bathos” were placed at random; and at +may be discovered that, when he thinks himself concealed, he +indulges the common vanity of common men, and triumphs in those +distinctions which he affected to despise. He is proud that +his book was presented to the king and queen by the Right +Honourable Sir Robert Walpole; he is proud that they had read it +before; he is proud that the edition was taken off by the +nobility and persons of the first distinction. The edition +of which he speaks was, I believe, that which, by telling in the +text the names, and in the notes the characters, of those whom he +had satirised, was made intelligible and diverting. The +critics had now declared their approbation of the plan, and the +common reader began to like it without fear. Those who were +strangers to petty literature, and therefore unable to decipher +initials and blanks, had now names and persons brought within +their view, and delighted in the visible effects of those shafts +of malice which they had hitherto contemplated as shot into the +air.</p> +<p>Dennis, upon the fresh provocation now given him, renewed the +enmity which had for a time been appeased by mutual civilities, +and published remarks, which he had till then suppressed, upon +the “Rape of the Lock.” Many more grumbled in +secret, or vented their resentment in the newspapers by epigrams +or invectives. Ducket, indeed, being mentioned as loving +Burnet with “pious passion,” pretended that his moral +character was injured, and for some time declared his resolution +to take vengeance with a cudgel. But Pope appeased him, by +changing “pious passion” to “cordial +friendship,” and by a note, in which he vehemently +disclaims the malignity of the meaning imputed to the first +expression. Aaron Hill, who was represented as diving for +the prize, expostulated with Pope in a manner so much superior to +all mean solicitation, that Pope was reduced to sneak and +shuffle, sometimes to deny, and sometimes to apologies; he first +endeavours to wound, and is then afraid to own that he meant a +blow.</p> +<p>The “Dunciad,” in the complete edition, is +addressed to Dr. Swift. Of the notes, part were written by +Dr. Arbuthnot, and an apologetical letter was prefixed, signed by +Cleland, but supposed to have been written by Pope.</p> +<p>After this general war upon dulness, he seems to have indulged +himself a while in tranquillity, but his subsequent productions +prove that he was not idle. He published (1731) a poem on +“Taste,” in which he very particularly and severely +criticises the house, the furniture, the gardens, and the +entertainments of Timon, a man of great wealth and little +taste. By Timon he was universally supposed, and by the +Earl of Burlington, to whom the poem is addressed, was privately +said, to mean the Duke of Chandos, a man perhaps too much +delighted with pomp and show, but of a temper kind and +beneficent, and who had consequently the voice of the public in +his favour. A violent outcry was, therefore, raised against +the ingratitude and treachery of Pope, who was said to have been +indebted to the patronage of Chandos for a present of a thousand +pounds, and who gained the opportunity of insulting him by the +kindness of his invitation. The receipt of the thousand +pounds Pope publicly denied; but from the reproach which the +attack on a character so amiable brought upon him, he tried all +means of escaping. The name of Cleland was again employed +in an apology, by which no man was satisfied, and he was at last +reduced to shelter his temerity behind dissimulation, and +endeavour to make that disbelieved which he never had confidence +openly to deny. He wrote an exculpatory letter to the duke, +which was answered with great magnanimity, as by a man who +accepted his excuse without believing his professions. He +said that to have ridiculed his taste, or his buildings, had been +an indifferent action in another man, but that in Pope, after the +reciprocal kindness that had been exchanged between them, it had +been less easily excused.</p> +<p>Pope, in one of his letters, complaining of the treatment +which his poem had found, “owns that such critics can +intimidate him, nay almost persuade him, to write no more, which +is a compliment this age deserves.” The man who +threatens the world is always ridiculous, for the world can +easily go on without him, and in a short time will cease to miss +him. I have heard of an idiot, who used to revenge his +vexatious by lying all night upon the bridge. “There +is nothing,” says Juvenal, “that a man will not +believe in his own favour.” Pope had been flattered +till he thought himself one of the moving powers in the system of +life. When he talked of laying down his pen, those who sat +round him entreated and implored; and self-love did not suffer +him to suspect that they went away and laughed.</p> +<p>The following year deprived him of Gay, a man whom he had +known early, and whom he seemed to love with more tenderness than +any other of his literary friends. Pope was now forty-four +years old, an age at which the mind begins less easily to admit +new confidence, and the will to grow less flexible, and when, +therefore, the departure of an old friend is very acutely +felt. In the next year (1733) he lost his mother, not by an +unexpected death, for she had lasted to the age of +ninety-three. But she did not die unlamented. The +filial piety of Pope was in the highest degree amiable and +exemplary. His parents had the happiness of living till he +was at the summit of poetical reputation, till he was at ease in +his fortune, and without a rival in his fame, and found no +diminution of his respect or tenderness. Whatever was his +pride, to them he was obedient; and whatever was his +irritability, to them he was gentle. Life has, among its +soothing and quiet comforts, few things better to give than such +a son.</p> +<p>One of the passages of Pope’s life, which seems to +deserve some inquiry, was a publication of “Letters” +between him and many of his friends, which, falling into the +hands of Curll, a rapacious bookseller, of no good fame, were by +him printed and sold. This volume containing some letters +from noblemen, Pope incited a prosecution against him in the +House of Lords for breach of privilege, and attended himself to +stimulate the resentment of his friends. Curll appeared at +the bar, and, knowing himself in no great danger, spoke of Pope +with very little reverence. “He has,” said +Curll, “a knack at versifying, but in prose I think myself +a match for him.” When the orders of the House were +examined, none of them appeared to have been infringed. +Curll went away triumphant, and Pope was left to seek some other +remedy.</p> +<p>Curll’s account was, that one evening a man in a +clergyman’s gown, but with a lawyer’s band, brought +and offered for sale a number of printed volumes, which he found +to be Pope’s epistolary correspondence; that he asked no +name, and was told none, but gave the price demanded, and thought +himself authorised to use his purchase to his own +advantage. That Curll gave a true account of the +transaction it is reasonable to believe, because no falsehood was +ever detected; and when, some years afterwards, I mentioned it to +Lintot, the son of Bernard, he declared his opinion to be, that +Pope knew better than anybody else how Curll obtained the copies, +because another parcel was at the same time sent to himself, for +which no price had ever been demanded, as he made known his +resolution not to pay a porter, and consequently not to deal with +a nameless agent. Such care had been taken to make them +public, that they were sent at once to two booksellers; to Curll, +who was likely to seize them as a prey, and to Lintot, who might +he expected to give Pope information of the seeming injury. +Lintot, I believe, did nothing, and Curll did what was +expected. That to make them public was the only purpose may +be reasonably supposed, because the numbers offered to sale by +the private messengers showed that the hope of gain could not +have been the motive of the impression. It seems that Pope, +being desirous of printing his “Letters,” and not +knowing how to do, without imputation of vanity, what has in this +country been done very rarely, contrived an appearance of +compulsion, that, when he could complain that his +“Letters” were surreptitiously published, he might +decently and defensively publish them himself.</p> +<p>Pope’s private correspondence, thus promulgated, filled +the nation with the praises of his candour, tenderness, and +benevolence, the purity of his purposes, and the fidelity of his +friendship. There were some letters which a very good or a +wise man would wish suppressed; but, as they had been already +exposed, it was impracticable now to retract them. From the +perusal of those letters, Mr. Allen first conceived the desire of +knowing him; and with so much zeal did he cultivate the +friendship which he had newly formed, that, when Pope told his +purpose of vindicating his own property by a genuine edition, he +offered to pay the cost. This, however, Pope did not +accept; but in time solicited a subscription for a quarto volume, +which appeared (1737), I believe, with sufficient profit. +In the preface he tells that his letters were reposited in a +friend’s library, said to be the Earl of Oxford’s, +and that the copy thence stolen was sent to the press. The +story was doubtless received with different degrees of +credit. It may be suspected that the preface to the +“Miscellanies” was written to prepare the public for +such an incident; and, to strengthen this opinion, James +Worsdale, a painter, who was employed in clandestine +negotiations, but whose voracity was very doubtful, declared that +he was the messenger who carried, by Pope’s direction, the +books to Curll. When they were thus published and avowed, +as they had relation to recent facts, and persons either then +living or not yet forgotten, they may be supposed to have found +readers; but, as the facts were minute, and the characters being +either private or literary, were little known, or little +regarded, they awaked no popular kindness or resentment. +The book never became much the subject of conversation. +Some read it as a contemporary history, and some perhaps as a +model of epistolary language; but those who read it did not talk +of it. Not much therefore was added by it to fame or envy, +nor do I remember that it produced either public praise or public +censure. It had, however, in some degree, the +recommendation of novelty. Our language had few letters, +except those of statesmen. Howel, indeed, about a century +ago, published his “Letters,” which are commended by +Morhoff, and which alone, of his hundred volumes, continue his +memory. Loveday’s “Letters” were printed +only once; those of Herbert and Suckling are hardly known. +Mrs. Phillips’s (Orinda’s) are equally +neglected. And those of Walsh seem written as exercises, +and were never sent to any living mistress or friend. +Pope’s epistolary excellence had an open field; he had no +English rival, living or dead.</p> +<p>Pope is seen in this collection as connected with the other +contemporary wits, and certainly suffers no disgrace in the +comparison; but it must be remembered that he had the power of +favouring himself. He might have originally had publication +in his mind, and have written with care, or have afterwards +selected those which he had most happily conceived or most +diligently laboured; and I know not whether there does not appear +something more studied and artificial in his productions than the +rest, except one long letter by Bolingbroke, composed with all +the skill and industry of a professed author. It is indeed +not easy to distinguish affectation from habit; he that has once +studiously formed a style, rarely writes afterwards with complete +ease. Pope may be said to write always with his reputation +in his head; Swift, perhaps, like a man that remembered he was +writing to Pope; but Arbuthnot, like one who lets thoughts drop +from his pen as they rise into his mind. Before these +“Letters” appeared he published the first part of +what he persuaded himself to think a system of Ethics, under the +title of an “Essay on Man,” which, if his letter to +Swift (of September 14, 1723), be rightly explained by the +commentator, had been eight years under his consideration, and of +which he seems to have desired the success with great +solicitude. He had now many open, and doubtless many +secret, enemies. The “Dunces” were yet smarting +from the war, and the superiority which he publicly arrogated +disposed the world to wish his humiliation. All this he +knew, and against all this he provided. His own name, and +that of his friend to whom the work is inscribed, were in the +first editions carefully suppressed; and the poem being of a new +kind was ascribed to one or another as favour determined or +conjecture wandered. It was given, says Warburton, to every +man except him only who could write it. Those who like only +when they like the author, and who are under the dominion of a +name, condemned it, and those admired it who are willing to +scatter praise at random, which, while it is unappropriated, +excites no envy. Those friends of Pope that were trusted +with the secret went about lavishing honours on the new-born +poet, and hinting that Pope was never so much in danger from any +former rival. To those authors whom he had personally +offended, and to those whose opinion the world considered as +decisive, and whom he suspected of envy or malevolence, he sent +his Essay as a present before publication, that they might defeat +their own enemity by praises which they could not afterwards +decently retract. With these precautions, in 1733, was +published the first part of the “Essay on Man.” +There had been for some time a report that Pope was busy upon a +“System of Morality,” but this design was not +discovered in the new poem, which had a form and a title with +which its readers were unacquainted. Its reception was not +uniform. Some thought it a very imperfect piece, though not +without good lines. While the author was unknown, some, as +will always happen, favoured him as an adventurer, and some +censured him as an intruder, but all thought him above +neglect. The sale increased, and editions were +multiplied. The subsequent editions of the first epistle +exhibited two memorable corrections. At first, the poet and +his friend</p> +<p class="poetry">“Expatiate freely o’er this scene +of man,<br /> +A mighty maze <i>of walks without a plan</i>;”</p> +<p>for which he wrote afterwards,</p> +<p class="poetry">“A mighty maze, <i>but not without a +plan</i>;”</p> +<p>for if there was no plan it was in vain to describe or to +trace the maze.</p> +<p>The other alteration was of these lines:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“And spike of pride, <i>and in thy +reason’s spite</i>,<br /> +One truth is clear, whatever is, is right:”</p> +<p>but having afterwards discovered, or been shown, that the +“truth” which subsisted “in spite of +reason” could not be very “clear,” he +substituted</p> +<p class="poetry">“And spite of pride <i>in erring +reason’s spite</i>.”</p> +<p>To such oversights will the most vigorous mind be liable when +it is employed at once upon argument and poetry.</p> +<p>The second and third epistles were published, and Pope was, I +believe, more and more suspected of writing them. At last, +in 1734, he avowed the fourth, and claimed the honour of a moral +poet. In the conclusion it is sufficiently acknowledged +that the doctrine of the “Essay on Man” was received +from Bolingbroke, who is said to have ridiculed Pope, among those +who enjoyed his confidence, as having adopted and advanced +principles of which he did not perceive the consequence, and as +blindly propagating opinions contrary to his own. That +those communications had been consolidated into a scheme +regularly drawn, and delivered to Pope, from whom it returned +only transformed from prose to verse, has been reported, but +hardly can be true. The essay plainly appears the fabric of +a poet; what Bolingbroke supplied could be only the first +principles, the order, illustration, and embellishments, must all +be Pope’s. These principles it is not my business to +clear from obscurity, dogmatism, or falsehood, but they were not +immediately examined. Philosophy and poetry have not often +the same readers; and the essay abounded in splendid +amplifications and sparkling sentences, which were read and +admired with no great attention to their ultimate purpose. +Its flowers caught the eye, which did not see what the gay +foliage concealed, and for a time flourished in the sunshine of +universal approbation. So little was any evil tendency +discovered, that, as innocence is unsuspicious, many read it for +a manual of piety. Its reputation soon invited a +translator. It was first turned into French prose, and +afterwards by Resnel into verse. Both translations fell +into the hands of Crousaz, who first, when he had the version in +prose, wrote a general censure, and afterwards reprinted +Resnel’s version, with particular remarks upon every +paragraph.</p> +<p>Crousaz was a professor of Switzerland, eminent for his +treatise of logic, and his “Examen de Pyrrhonisme,” +and, however little known or regarded here, was no mean +antagonist. His mind was one of those in which philosophy +and piety are happily united. He was accustomed to argument +and disquisition, and perhaps was grown too desirous of detecting +faults, but his intentions were always right, his opinions were +solid, and his religion pure. His incessant vigilance for +the promotion of piety disposed him to look with distrust upon +all metaphysical systems of theology, and all schemes of virtue +and happiness purely rational; and therefore it was not long +before he was persuaded that the positions of Pope, as they +terminated for the most part in natural religion, were intended +to draw mankind away from revelation, and to represent the whole +course of things as a necessary concatenation of indissoluble +fatality, and it is undeniable that in many passages a religious +eye may easily discover expressions not very favourable to morals +or to liberty.</p> +<p>About this time Warburton began to make his appearance in the +first ranks of learning. He was a man of vigorous +faculties, a mind fervid and vehement, supplied by incessant and +unlimited inquiry, with wonderful extent and variety of +knowledge, which yet had not oppressed his imagination nor +clouded his perspicacity. To every work he brought a memory +full fraught, together with a fancy fertile of original +combinations and at once exerted the powers of the scholar, the +reasoner, and the wit. But his knowledge was too +multifarious to be always exact, and his pursuits were too eager +to be always cautions. His abilities gave him a haughty +confidence, which he disdained to conceal or mollify, and his +impatience of opposition disposed him to treat his adversaries +with such contemptuous superiority as made his readers commonly +his enemies, and excited against the advocate the wishes of some +who favoured the cause. He seems to have adopted the Roman +Emperor’s determination, <i>oderint dum metuant</i>; he +used no allurements of gentle language, but wished to compel +rather than persuade. His style is copious without +selection, and forcible without neatness. He took the words +that presented themselves. His diction is coarse and +impure, and his sentences are unmeasured. He had in the +early part of his life pleased himself with the notice of +inferior wits, and corresponded with the enemies of Pope. A +letter was produced, when he had perhaps himself forgotten it, in +which he tells Concanen, “Dryden, I observe, borrows for +want of leisure, and Pope for want of genius, Milton out of +pride, and Addison out of modesty.” And when Theobald +published Shakespeare, in opposition to Pope, the best notes were +supplied by Warburton. But the time was now come when +Warburton was to change his opinion, and Pope was to find a +defender in him who had contributed so much to the exaltation of +his rival.</p> +<p>The arrogance of Warburton excited against him every artifice +of offence, and therefore it may be supposed that his union with +Pope was censured as hypocritical inconstancy, but surely to +think differently at different times of poetical merit may be +easily allowed. Such opinions are often admitted, and +dismissed without nice examination. Who is there that has +not found reason for changing his mind about questions of greater +importance?</p> +<p>Warburton, whatever was his motive, undertook, without +solicitation, to rescue Pope from the talons of Crousaz, by +freeing him from the imputation of favouring fatality or +rejecting revelation; and from month to month continued a +vindication of the “Essay on Man,” in the literary +journal of that time called the “Republic of +Letters.”</p> +<p>Pope, who probably began to doubt the tendency of his own +work, was glad that the positions, of which he perceived himself +not to know the full meaning, could by any mode of interpretation +be made to mean well. How much he was pleased with his +gratuitous defender the following letter evidently +shows:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">“April 11, +1739.</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—I have just +received from Mr. R. two more of your letters. It is in the +greatest hurry imaginable that I write this; but I cannot help +thanking you in particular for your third letter, which is so +extremely clear, short, and full, that I think Mr. Crousaz ought +never to have another answer, and deserved not so good an +one. I can only say, you do him too much honour, and me too +much right, so odd as the expression seems; for you have made my +system as clear as I ought to have done, and could not. It +is indeed the same system as mine, but illustrated with a ray of +your own, as they say our natural body is the same still when it +is glorified. I am sure I like it better than I did before, +and so will every man else. I know I meant just what you +explain; but I did not explain my own meaning so well as +you. You understand me as well as I do myself; but you +express me better than I could express myself. Pray accept +the sincerest acknowledgments. I cannot but wish these +letters were put together in one book, and intend (with your +leave) to procure a translation of part at least, or of all of +them, into French; but I shall not proceed a step without your +consent and opinion,” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>By this fond and eager acceptance of an exculpatory comment +Pope testified that, whatever might be the seeming or real import +of the principles which he had received from Bolingbroke, he had +not intentionally attacked religion; and Bolingbroke, if he meant +to make him, without his own consent, an instrument of mischief, +found him now engaged, with his eyes open, on the side of +truth. It is known that Bolingbroke concealed from Pope his +real opinions. He once discovered them to Mr. Hooke, who +related them again to Pope, and was told by him that he must have +mistaken the meaning of what he heard: and Bolingbroke, when +Pope’s uneasiness incited him to desire an explanation, +declared that Hooke had misunderstood him.</p> +<p>Bolingbroke hated Warburton, who had drawn his pupil from him; +and a little before Pope’s death they had a dispute, from +which they parted with mutual aversion. From this time Pope +lived in the closest intimacy with his commentator, and amply +rewarded his kindness and his zeal, for he introduced him to Mr. +Murray, by whose interest he became preacher at Lincoln’s +Inn, and to Mr. Allen, who gave him his niece and his estate, and +by consequence a bishopric. When he died, he left him the +property of his works, a legacy which may be reasonably estimated +at four thousand pounds.</p> +<p>Pope’s fondness for the “Essay on Man” +appeared by his desire of its propagation. Dobson, who had +gained reputation by his version of Prior’s +“Solomon,” was employed by him to translate it into +Latin verse, and was for that purpose some time at Twickenham; +but he left his work, whatever was the reason, unfinished; and, +by Benson’s invitation, undertook the longer task of +“Paradise Lost.” Pope then desired his friend +to find a scholar who should turn his essay into Latin prose; but +no such performance has ever appeared.</p> +<p>Pope lived at this time <i>among the great</i>, with that +reception and respect to which his works entitled him, and which +he had not impaired by any private misconduct or factious +partiality. Though Bolingbroke was his friend, Walpole was +not his enemy, but treated him with so much consideration as, at +his request, to solicit and obtain from the French Minister an +abbey for Mr. Southcot, whom he considered himself as obliged to +reward, by his exertion of his interest, for the benefit which he +had received from his attendance in a long illness. It was +said, that when the Court was at Richmond, Queen Caroline had +declared her intention to visit him. This may have been +only a careless effusion, thought on no more. The report of +such notice, however, was soon in many mouths; and, if I do not +forget or misapprehend Savage’s account, Pope, pretending +to decline what was not yet offered, left his house for a time, +not, I suppose, for any other reason than lest he should be +thought to stay at home in expectation of an honour which would +not be conferred. He was therefore angry at Swift, who +represents him as “refusing the visits of a queen,” +because he knew that what had never been offered had never been +refused.</p> +<p>Beside the general system of morality, supposed to be +contained in the “Essay on Man,” it was his intention +to write distinct poems upon the different duties or conditions +of life, one of which is the “Epistle to Lord +Bathurst” (1733) on the “Use of Riches,” a +piece on which he declared great labour to have been +bestowed. Into this poem some hints are historically +thrown, and some known characters are introduced, with others of +which it is difficult to say how far they are real or fictitious: +but the praise of Kryle, the Man of Ross, deserves particular +examination, who, after a long and pompous enumeration of his +public works and private charities, is said to have diffused all +those blessings from five hundred a year. Wonders are +willingly told and willingly heard. The truth is, that +Kyrle was a man of known integrity and active benevolence, by +whose solicitation the wealthy were persuaded to pay +contributions to his charitable schemes. This influence he +obtained by an example of liberality exerted to the utmost extent +of his power, and was thus enabled to give more than he +had. This account Mr. Victor received from the minister of +the place, and I have preserved it, that the praise of a good +man, being made more credible, may be more solid. +Narrations of romantic and impracticable virtue will be read with +wonder, but that which is unattainable is recommended in vain; +that good may be endeavoured it must be shown to be +possible. This is the only piece in which the author has +given a hint of his religion, by ridiculing the ceremony of +burning the Pope, and by mentioning with some indignation the +inscription on the Monument.</p> +<p>When this poem was first published, the dialogue having no +letters of direction was perplexed and obscure. Pope seems +to have written with no very distinct idea, for he calls that an +“Epistle to Bathurst,” in which Bathurst is +introduced as speaking. He afterwards (1734) inscribed to +Lord Cobham his “Characters of Men,” written with +close attention to the operations of the mind and modifications +of life. In this poem he has endeavoured to establish and +exemplify his favourite theory of the <i>ruling passion</i>, by +which he means an original direction of desire to some particular +object, an innate affection which gives all action a determinate +and invariable tendency, and operates upon the whole system of +life, either openly, cut more secretly by the intervention of +some accidental or subordinate propension. Of any passion, +thus innate and irresistible, the existence may reasonably be +doubted. Human characters are by no means constant; men +change by change of place, of fortune, of acquaintance. He +who is at one time a lover of pleasure, is at another a lover of +money. Those, indeed, who attain any excellence commonly +spend life in one pursuit, for excellence is not often gained +upon easier terms. But to the particular species of +excellence men are directed, not by an ascendant planet or +predominating humour, but by the first book which they read, some +early conversation which they heard, or some accident which +excited ardour and emulation. It must at least be allowed +that this ruling passion, antecedent to reason and observation, +must have an object independent on human contrivance, for there +can be no natural desire of artificial good. No man, +therefore, can be born, in the strict acceptation, a lover of +money, for he may be born where money does not exist; nor can he +be born in a moral sense a lover of his country, for society +politically regulated is a state contradistinguished from a state +of nature, and any attention to that coalition of interests which +makes the happiness of a country is possible only to those whom +inquiry and reflection have enabled to comprehend it. This +doctrine is in itself pernicious as well as false; its tendency +is to produce the belief of a kind of moral predestination or +over-ruling principle which cannot be resisted. He that +admits it is prepared to comply with every desire that caprice or +opportunity shall excite, and to flatter himself that he submits +only to the lawful dominion of nature in obeying the resistless +authority of his ruling passion.</p> +<p>Pope has formed his theory with so little skill that in the +examples by which he illustrates and confirms it he has +confounded passions, appetites, and habits. To the +“Characters of Men” he added soon after, in an +epistle supposed to have been addressed to Martha Blount, but +which the last edition has taken from her, the “Characters +of Women.” This poem, which was laboured with great +diligence and in the author’s opinion with great success, +was neglected at its first publication, as the commentator +supposes, because the public was informed by an advertisement +that it contained no character drawn from the life, an assertion +which Pope probably did not expect nor wished to have been +believed, and which he soon gave his readers sufficient reason to +distrust, by telling them in a note that the work was imperfect +because part of his subject was vice too high to be yet +exposed. The time, however, soon came in which it was safe +to display the Duchess of Marlborough under the name of Atossa, +and her character was inserted with no great honour to the +writer’s gratitude.</p> +<p>He published from time to time (between 1730 and 1740) +imitations of different poems of Horace, generally with his name, +and once, as was suspected, without it. What he was upon +moral principles ashamed to own he ought to have +suppressed. Of these pieces it is useless to settle the +dates, as they had seldom much relation to the times, and perhaps +had been long in his hands. This mode of imitation, in +which the ancients are familiarised by adapting their sentiments +to modern topics, by making Horace say of Shakespeare what he +originally said of Ennius, and accommodating his satires on +Pantolabus and Nomentanus to the flatterers and prodigals of our +own time, was first practised in the reign of Charles the Second, +by Oldham and Rochester, at least I remember no instances more +ancient. It is a kind of middle composition between +translation and original design, which pleases when the thoughts +are unexpectedly applicable, and the parallels lucky. It +seems to have been Pope’s favourite amusement, for he has +carried it farther than any former poet. He published +likewise a revival, in smoother numbers, of Dr. Donne’s +“Satires,” which was recommended to him by the Duke +of Shrewsbury and the Earl of Oxford. They made no great +impression on the public. Pope seems to have known their +imbecility and therefore suppressed them while he was yet +contending to rise in reputation, but ventured them when he +thought their deficiencies more likely to be imputed to Donne +than to himself.</p> +<p>The “Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot,” which seems to be +derived in its first design from Boileau’s Address +<i>à son Esprit</i>, was published in January, 1735, about +a month before the death of him to whom it is inscribed. It +is to be regretted that either honour or pleasure should have +been missed by Arbuthnot, a man estimable for his learning, +amiable for his life, and venerable for his piety. +Arbuthnot was a man of great comprehension, skilful in his +profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with ancient +literature, and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright +and active imagination; a scholar with great brilliance of wit, a +wit who, in the crowd of life, retained and discovered a noble +ardour of religious zeal. In this poem Pope seems to reckon +with the public. He vindicates himself from censures, and +with dignity rather than arrogance enforces his own claims to +kindness and respect. Into this poem are interwoven several +paragraphs which had been before printed, as a fragment, and +among them the satirical lines upon Addison, of which the last +couplet has been twice corrected. It was at +first—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Who would not smile if such a man there +be?<br /> +Who would not laugh if Addison were he?”</p> +<p>Then—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Who would not grieve if such a man there +be?<br /> +Who would not laugh if Addison were he?”</p> +<p>At last it is—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Who but must laugh if such a man there +he?<br /> +Who would not weep if Atticus were he?”</p> +<p>He was at this time at open war with Lord Hervey, who had +distinguished himself as a steady adherent to the ministry, and +being offended with a contemptuous answer to one of his +pamphlets, had summoned Pulteney to a duel. Whether he or +Pope made the first attack perhaps cannot now be easily +known. He had written an invective against Pope, whom he +calls, “Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure;” +and hints that his father was a hatter. To this Pope wrote +a reply in verse and prose. The verses are in this poem, +and the prose, though it was never sent, is printed among his +letters; but to a cool reader of the present time exhibits +nothing but tedious malignity.</p> +<p>His last “Satires” of the general kind, were two +Dialogues, named, from the year in which they were published, +“Seventeen hundred and thirty-eight.” In these +poems many are praised and many reproached. Pope was then +entangled in the opposition, a follower of the Prince of Wales, +who dined at his house, and the friend of many who obstructed and +censured the conduct of the ministers. His political +partiality was too plainly shown; he forgot the prudence with +which he passed, in his earlier years, uninjured and unoffending, +through much more violent conflicts of faction. In the +first Dialogue, having an opportunity of praising Allen of Bath, +he asked his leave to mention him as a man not illustrious by any +merit of his ancestors, and called him in his verses +“low-born Allen.” Men are seldom satisfied with +praise introduced or followed by any mention of defect. +Allen seems not to have taken any pleasure in his epithet, which +was afterwards softened into “humble Allen.” In +the second Dialogue he took some liberty with one of the Foxes +among others; which Fox in a reply to Lyttelton, took an +opportunity of repaying, by reproaching him with the friendship +of a lampooner, who scattered his ink without fear or decency, +and against whom he hoped the resentment of the Legislature would +quickly be discharged.</p> +<p>About this time Paul Whitehead, a small poet, was summoned +before the Lords for a poem called “Manners,” +together with Dodsley, his publisher. Whitehead, who hung +loose upon society, skulked and escaped, but Dodsley’s shop +and family made his appearance necessary. He was, however, +soon dismissed, and the whole process was probably intended +rather to intimidate Pope than to punish Whitehead.</p> +<p>Pope never afterwards attempted to join the patriot with the +poet, nor drew his pen upon statesmen. That he desisted +from his attempts of reformation is imputed by his commentator to +his despair of prevailing over the corruption of the time. +He was not likely to have been ever of opinion that the dread of +his satire would countervail the love of power or of money; he +pleased himself with being important and formidable, and +gratified sometimes his pride, and sometimes his resentment, till +at last he began to think he should be more safe if he were less +busy.</p> +<p>The “Memoirs of Scriblerus,” published about this +time, extend only to the first book of a work projected in +concert by Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot, who used to meet on the +time of Queen Anne, and denominated themselves the +“Scriblerus Club.” Their purpose was to censure +the abuses of learning by a fictitious life of an infatuated +scholar. They were dispersed; the design was never +completed, and Warburton laments its miscarriage as an event very +disastrous to polite letters. If the whole may be estimated +by this specimen, which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot, +with a few touches perhaps by Pope, the want of more will not be +much lamented; for the follies which the writer ridicules are so +little practised that they are not known; nor can the satire be +understood but by the learned. He raises phantoms of +absurdity, and then drives them away. He cures diseases +that were never felt. For this reason this joint production +of three great writers has never obtained any notice from +mankind. It has been little read, or when read has been +forgotten, as no man could be wiser, better, or merrier, by +remembering it. The design cannot boast of much +originality; for, besides its general resemblance to “Don +Quixote,” there will be found in it particular imitations +of the “History of Mr. Ouffle.”</p> +<p>Swift carried so much of it into Ireland as supplied him with +hints for his “Travels;” and with those the world +might have been contented, though the rest had been +suppressed.</p> +<p>Pope had sought for images and sentiments in a region not +known to have been explored by many other of the English +writers. He had consulted the modern writers of Latin +poetry, a class of authors whom Boileau endeavoured to bring into +contempt, and who are too generally neglected. Pope, +however, was not ashamed of their acquaintance, nor ungrateful +for the advantages which he might have derived from it. A +small selection from the Italians, who wrote in Latin, had been +published at London, about the latter end of the last century, by +a man who concealed his name, but whom his preface shows to have +been qualified for his undertaking. This collection Pope +amplified by more than half, and (1740) published it in two +volumes, but injuriously omitted his predecessor’s +preface. To these books, which had nothing but the mere +text, no regard was paid; the authors were still neglected, and +the editor was neither praised nor censured. He did not +sink into idleness; he had planned a work, which he considered as +subsequent to his “Essay on Man,” of which he has +given this account to Dr. Swift:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">“March 25, +1736.</p> +<p>“If ever I write any more Epistles in verse, one of them +shall be addressed to you. I have long concerted it and +begun it; but I would make what bears your name as finished as my +last work ought to be, that is to say, more finished than any of +the rest. The subject is large, and will divide into four +Epistles, which naturally follow the ‘Essay on Man,’ +viz: 1. Of the Extent and Limits of Human Reason and +Science. 2. A view of the useful and therefore attainable, +and of the unuseful and therefore unattainable Arts. 3. Of +the Nature, Ends, Application, and Use, of different +Capacities. 4. Of the Use of Learning, of the Science, of +the World, and of Wit. It will conclude with a satire +against the misapplication of all these, exemplified by Pictures, +Characters, and Examples.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This work in its full extent—being now afflicted with an +asthma, and finding the powers of life gradually +declining—he had no longer courage to undertake; but, from +the materials which he had provided, he added, at +Warburton’s request, another book to the +“Dunciad,” of which the design is to ridicule such +studies as are either hopeless or useless, as either pursue what +is unattainable, or what, if it be attained, is of no use. +When this book was printed (1742) the laurel had been for some +time upon the head of Cibber, a man whom it cannot be supposed +that Pope could regard with much kindness or esteem, though in +one of the imitations of Horace he has liberally enough praised +the “Careless Husband.” In the +“Dunciad,” among other worthless scribblers, he had +mentioned Cibber, who, in his “Apology,” complains of +the great Poet’s unkindness as more injurious, +“because,” says he, “I never have offended +him.”</p> +<p>It might have been expected that Pope should have been in some +degree mollified by this submissive gentleness, but no such +consequence appeared. Though he condescended to commend +Cibber once, he mentioned him afterwards contemptuously in one of +his satires, and again in his “Epistle to Arbuthnot,” +and in the fourth book of the “Dunciad” attacked him +with acrimony, to which the provocation is not easily +discoverable. Perhaps he imagined that, in ridiculing the +Laureate, he satirised those by whom the laurel had been given, +and gratified that ambitious petulance with which he affected to +insult the great. The severity of this satire left Cibber +no longer any patience. He had confidence enough in his own +powers to believe that he could disturb the quiet of his +adversary, and doubtless did not want instigators, who, without +any care about the victory, desired to amuse themselves by +looking on the contest. He therefore gave the town a +pamphlet, in which he declares his resolution from that time +never to bear another blow without returning it, and to tire out +his adversary by perseverance if he cannot conquer him by +strength.</p> +<p>The incessant and unappeasable malignity of Pope he imputes to +a very distant cause. After the <i>Three Hours After +Marriage</i> had been driven off the stage, by the offence which +the mummy and crocodile gave the audience, while the exploded +scene was yet fresh in memory, it happened that Cibber played +Bayes in the <i>Rehearsal</i>; and, as it had been usual to +enliven the part by the mention of any recent theatrical +transactions, he said, that he once thought to have introduced +his lovers disguised in a mummy and a crocodile. +“This,” says he, “was received with loud claps, +which indicated contempt for the play.” Pope, who was +behind the scenes, meeting him as he left the stage, attacked +him, as he says, with all the virulence of a “wit out of +his senses;” to which he replied, “that he would take +no other notice of what was said by so particular a man, than to +declare, that as often as he played that part he would repeat the +same provocation.” He shows his opinion to be that +Pope was one of the authors of the play which he so zealously +defended, and adds an idle story of Pope’s behaviour at a +tavern.</p> +<p>The pamphlet was written with little power of thought or +language, and, if suffered to remain without notice, would have +been very soon forgotten. Pope had now been enough +acquainted with human life to know, if his passion had not been +too powerful for his understanding, that, from a contention like +his with Cibber, the world seeks nothing but diversion, which is +given at the expense of the higher character. When Cibber +lampooned Pope, curiosity was excited. What Pope would say +of Cibber nobody inquired, but in hope that Pope’s asperity +might betray his pain and lessen his dignity. He should +therefore have suffered the pamphlet to flutter and die, without +confessing that it stung him. The dishonour of being shown +as Cibber’s antagonist could never be compensated by the +victory. Cibber had nothing to lose. When Pope had +exhausted all his malignity upon him, he would rise in the esteem +both of his friends and his enemies. Silence only could +have made him despicable; the blow which did not appear to be +felt would have been struck in vain. But Pope’s +irascibility prevailed, and he resolved to tell the whole English +world that he was at war with Cibber; and, to show that he +thought him to common adversary, he prepared no common +vengeance. He published a new edition of the +“Dunciad,” in which he degraded Theobald from his +painful pre-eminence, and enthroned Cibber in his stead. +Unhappily the two heroes were of opposite characters, and Pope +was unwilling to lose what he had already written. He has +therefore depraved his poem by giving to Cibber the old books, +the old pedantry, and the sluggish pertinacity of Theobald.</p> +<p>Pope was ignorant enough of his own interest to make another +change, and introduced Osborne contending for a prize among the +booksellers. Osborne was a man entirely destitute of shame, +without sense of any disgrace but that of poverty. He told +me, when he was doing that which raised Pope’s resentment, +that he should be put into the “Dunciad;” but he had +the fate of Cassandra. I gave no credit to his prediction, +till in time I saw it accomplished. The shafts of satire +were directed equally in vain against Cibber and Osborne; being +repelled by the impenetrable impudence of one, and deadened by +the impassive dulness of the other. Pope confessed his own +pain by his anger; but he gave no pain to those who had provoked +him. He was able to hurt none but himself; by transferring +the same ridicule from one to another, he reduced himself to the +insignificance of his own magpie, who from his cage calls cuckold +at a venture.</p> +<p>Cibber, according to his engagement, repaid the +“Dunciad” with another pamphlet, which, Pope said, +“would be as good as a dose of hartshorn to him;” but +his tongue and his heart were at variance. I have heard Mr. +Richardson relate that he attended his father the painter on a +visit, when one of Cibber’s pamphlets came into the hands +of Pope, who said, “These things are my +diversion.” They sat by him while he perused it, and +saw his features writhing with anguish: and young Richardson said +to his father, when they returned, that he hoped to be preserved +from such diversion as had been that day the lot of Pope. +From this time, finding his diseases more oppressive, and his +vital powers gradually declining, he no longer strained his +faculties with any original composition, nor proposed any other +employment for his remaining life than the revisal and correction +of his former works, in which he received advice and assistance +from Warburton, whom he appears to have trusted and honoured in +the highest degree. He laid aside his Epic Poem, perhaps +without much loss to mankind; for his hero was Brutus the Trojan, +who, according to a ridiculous fiction, established a colony in +Britain. The subject, therefore, was of the fabulous age; +the actors were a race upon whom imagination has been exhausted, +and attention wearied, and to whom the mind will not easily be +recalled, when it is invited in blank verse, which Pope had +adopted with great imprudence, and, I think, without due +consideration of the nature of our language. The sketch is, +at least in part, preserved by Ruffhead, by which it appears that +Pope was thoughtless enough to model the names of his heroes with +terminations not consistent with the time or country in which he +places them. He lingered through the next year, but +perceived himself, as he expresses it, “going down the +hill.” He had for at least five years been afflicted +with an asthma, and other disorders, which his physicians were +unable to relieve. Towards the end of his life he consulted +Dr. Thomson, a man who had, by large promises, and free censures +of the common practice of physic, forced himself up into sudden +reputation. Thomson declared his distemper to be a dropsy, +and evacuated part of the water by tincture of jalap, but +confessed that his belly did not subside. Thomson had many +enemies, and Pope was persuaded to dismiss him.</p> +<p>While he was yet capable of amusement and conversation, as he +was one day sitting in the air with Lord Bolingbroke and Lord +Marchmont, he saw his favourite Martha Blount at the bottom of +the terrace, and asked Lord Bolingbroke to go and hand her +up. Bolingbroke, not liking his errand, crossed his legs +and sat still; but Lord Marchmont, who was younger and less +captious, waited on the lady, who, when he came to her, asked, +“What, is he not dead yet?” She is said to have +neglected him with shameful unkindness, in the latter time of his +decay; yet, of the little which he had to leave she had a very +great part. Their acquaintance began early; the life of +each was pictured on the other’s mind; their conversation +therefore was endearing, for when they met, there was an +immediate coalition of congenial notions. Perhaps he +considered her unwillingness to approach the chamber of sickness +as female weakness, or human frailty; perhaps he was conscious to +himself of peevishness and impatience, or, though he was offended +by her inattention, might yet consider her merit as overbalancing +her fault; and if he had suffered his heart to be alienated from +her, he could have found nothing that might fill her place; he +could have only shrunk within himself. It was too late to +transfer his confidence or fondness.</p> +<p>In May, 1744, his death was approaching. On the 6th he +was all day delirious, which he mentioned for days afterwards as +a sufficient humiliation of the vanity of man; he afterwards +complained of seeing things as through a curtain, and in false +colours, and one day, its the presence of Dodsley, asked what arm +it was that came from the wall. He said that his greatest +inconvenience was inability to think. Bolingbroke sometimes +wept over him in this state of helpless decay; and being told by +Spence, that Pope, at the intermission of his deliriousness, was +always saying something kind either of his present or absent +friends, and that his humanity seemed to have survived his +understanding, answered, “It has so.” And +added, “I never in my life knew a man that had so tender a +heart for his particular friends, or more general friendship for +mankind.” At another time he said, “I have +known Pope these thirty years, and value myself more in his +friendship than—” His grief then suppressed his +voice.</p> +<p>Pope expressed undoubting confidence of a future state. +Being asked by his friend Mr. Hooke, a papist, whether he would +not die like his father and mother, and whether a priest should +not be called, he answered, “I do not think it essential, +but it will be very right; and I thank you for putting me in mind +of it.” In the morning, after the priest had given +him the last sacraments, he said “There is nothing that is +meritorious but virtue and friendship; and indeed friendship +itself is only a part of virtue.” He died in the +evening of the 30th day of May 1744, so placidly, that the +attendants did not discern the exact time of his +expiration. He was buried at Twickenham, near his father +and mother, where a monument has been erected to him by his +commentator, the Bishop of Gloucester.</p> +<p>He left the care of his papers to his executors; first to Lord +Bolingbroke, and, if he should not be living, to the Earl of +Marchmont, undoubtedly expecting them to be proud of the trust, +and eager to extend his fame. But let no man dream of +influence beyond his life. After a decent time Dodsley, the +bookseller, went to solicit preference as the publisher, and was +told that the parcel had not been yet inspected; and, whatever +was the reason, the world has been disappointed of what was +“reserved for the next age.” He lost, indeed, +the favour of Bolingbroke by a kind of posthumous offence. +The political pamphlet called “The Patriot King” had +been put into his hands that he might procure the impression of a +very few copies, to be distributed, according to the +author’s direction, among his friends, and Pope assured him +that no more had been printed than were allowed; but, soon after +his death, the printer brought and resigned a complete edition of +fifteen hundred copies, which Pope had ordered him to print and +retain in secret. He kept, as was observed, his engagement +to Pope better than Pope had kept it to his friend; and nothing +was known of the transaction till, upon the death of his +employer, he thought himself obliged to deliver the books to the +right owner, who, with great indignation, made a fire in his +yard, and delivered the whole impression to the flames.</p> +<p>Hitherto nothing had been done which was not naturally +dictated by resentment of violated faith; resentment more +acrimonious, as the violator had been more loved or more +trusted. But here the anger might have stopped; the injury +was private, and there was little danger from the example. +Bolingbroke, however, was not yet satisfied. His thirst of +vengeance excited him to blast the memory of the man over whom he +had wept in his last struggles; and he employed Mallet, another +friend of Pope, to tell the tale to the public, with all its +aggravations. Warburton, whose heart was warm with his +legacy and tender by the recent separation, thought it proper for +him to interpose, and undertook, not indeed to vindicate the +action, for breach of trust has always something criminal, but to +extenuate it by an apology. Having advanced what cannot be +denied, that moral obliquity is made more or less excusable by +the motives that produce it, he inquires what evil purpose could +have induced Pope to break his promise. He could not +delight his vanity by usurping the work, which, though not sold +in shops, had been shown to a number more than sufficient to +preserve the author’s claim; he could not gratify his +avarice, for he could not sell his plunder till Bolingbroke was +dead; and even then, if the copy was left to another, his fraud +would be defeated, and if left to himself would be useless.</p> +<p>Warburton therefore supposes, with great appearance of reason, +that the irregularity of his conduct proceeded wholly from his +zeal for Bolingbroke, who might perhaps have destroyed the +pamphlet, which Pope thought it his duty to preserve, even +without its author’s approbation. To this apology an +answer was written in “A letter to the most impudent man +living.” He brought some reproach upon his own memory +by the petulant and contemptuous mention made in his will of Mr. +Allen and an affected repayment of his benefactions. Mrs. +Blount, as the known friend and favourite of Pope, had been +invited to the house of Allen, where she comported herself with +such indecent arrogance that she parted from Mrs. Allen in a +state of irreconcilable dislike, and the door was for ever barred +against her. This exclusion she resented with so much +bitterness as to refuse any legacy from Pope unless he left the +world with a disavowal of obligation to Allen. Having been +long under her dominion, now tottering in the decline of life, +and unable to resist the violence of her temper, or perhaps, with +the prejudice of a lover, persuaded that she had suffered +improper treatment, he complied with her demand, and polluted his +will with female resentment. Allen accepted the legacy, +which he gave to the hospital at Bath, observing that Pope was +always a bad accountant, and that if to £150 he had put a +cipher more he had come nearer to the truth.</p> +<p>The person of Pope is well known not to have been formed by +the nicest model. He has, in his account of the +“Little Club,” compared himself to a spider, and by +another is described as protuberant behind and before. He +is said to have been beautiful in his infancy, but he was of a +constitution originally feeble and weak; and, as bodies of a +tender frame are easily distorted, his deformity was probably in +part the effect of his application. His stature was so low, +that to bring him to a level with common tables, it was necessary +to raise his seat. But his face was not displeasing, and +his eyes were animated and vivid. By natural deformity, or +accidental distortion, his vital functions were so much +disordered, that his life was “a long disease.” +His most frequent assailant was the headache, which he used to +relieve by inhaling the steam of coffee, which he very frequently +required.</p> +<p>Most of what can be told concerning his petty peculiarities +was communicated by a female domestic of the Earl of Oxford, who +knew him perhaps after the middle of life. He was then so +weak as to stand in perpetual need of female attendance; +extremely sensible of cold, so that he wore a kind of fur +doublet, under a shirt of a very coarse warm linen with fine +sleeves. When he rose, he was invested in bodice made of +stiff canvas, being scarcely able to hold himself erect till they +were laced, and he then put on a flannel waistcoat. One +side was contracted. His legs were so slender, that he +enlarged their bulk with three pairs of stockings, which were +drawn on and off by the maid, for he was not able to dress or +undress himself, and neither went to bed nor rose without +help. His weakness made it very difficult for him to be +clean. His hair had fallen almost all away, and he used to +dine sometimes with Lord Oxford, privately, in a velvet +cap. His dress of ceremony was black, with a tie-wig, and a +little sword. The indulgence and accommodation which his +sickness required, had taught him all the unpleasing and unsocial +qualities of a valetudinary man. He expected that +everything should give way to his ease or humour, as a child, +whose parents will not hear her cry, has an unresisted dominion +in the nursery.</p> +<blockquote><p>“C’est que l’enfant toujours est +homme,<br /> +C’est que l’homme est toujours enfant.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When he wanted to sleep he “nodded in company,” +and once slumbered at his own table while the Prince of Wales was +talking of poetry.</p> +<p>The reputation which his friendship gave procured him many +invitations, but he was a very troublesome inmate. He +brought no servant, and had so many wants, that a numerous +attendance was scarcely able to supply them. Wherever he +was, he left no room for another, because he exacted the +attention, and employed the activity of the whole family. +His errands were so frequent and frivolous, that the footmen in +time avoided and neglected him, and the Earl of Oxford discharged +some of his servants for their resolute refusal of his +messages. The maids, when they had neglected their +business, alleged that they had been employed by Mr. Pope. +One of his constant demands was of coffee in the night, and to +the woman that waited on him in his chamber he was very +burthensome. But he was careful to recompense her want of +sleep, and Lord Oxford’s servant declared, that in the +house where her business was to answer his call, she would not +ask for wages. He had another fault, easily incident to +those who, suffering much pain, think themselves entitled to what +pleasures they can snatch. He was too indulgent to his +appetite: he loved meat highly seasoned and of strong taste; and, +at the intervals of the table, amused himself with biscuits and +dry conserves. If he sat down to a variety of dishes, he +would oppress his stomach with repletion; and though he seemed +angry when a dram was offered him, did not forbear to drink +it. His friends, who knew the avenues to his heart, +pampered him with presents of luxury, which he did not suffer to +stand neglected. The death of great men is not always +proportioned to the lustre of their lives. Hannibal, says +Juvenal, did not perish by the javelin or the sword, the +slaughters of Cannæ were revenged by a ring. The +death of Pope was imputed by some of his friends to a silver +saucepan, in which it was his delight to eat potted +lampreys. That he loved too well to eat is certain; but +that his sensuality shortened his life will not be hastily +concluded, when it is remembered that a conformation so irregular +lasted six-and-fifty years, notwithstanding such pertinacious +diligence of study and meditation. In all his intercourse +with mankind he had great delight in artifice, and endeavoured to +attain all his purposes by indirect and unsuspected +methods. “He hardly drank tea without a +stratagem.” If at the house of friends he wanted any +accommodation, he was not willing to ask for it in plain terms, +but would mention it remotely as something convenient; though +when it was procured, he soon made it appear for whose sake it +had been recommended. Thus he teased Lord Orrery till he +obtained a screen. He practised his arts on such small +occasions, that Lady Bolingbroke used to say, in a French phrase, +that “he played the politician about cabbages and +turnips.” His unjustifiable impression of the +“Patriot King,” as it can be attributed to no +particular motive, must have proceeded from his general habit of +secrecy and cunning; he caught an opportunity of a sly trick, and +pleased himself with the thought of outwitting Bolingbroke. +In familiar or convivial conversation, it does not appear that he +excelled. He may be said to have resembled Dryden, as being +not one that was distinguished by vivacity in company. It +is remarkable that, so near his time, so much should be known of +what he has written, and so little of what he has said: +traditional memory retains no sallies of raillery, nor sentences +of observation: nothing either pointed or solid, either wise or +merry. One apophthegm only stands upon record. When +an objection, raised against his inscription for Shakespeare, was +defended by the authority of Patrick, he replied, <i>horresco +referens</i>, that he “would allow the publisher of a +dictionary to know the meaning of a single word, but not of two +words put together.”</p> +<p>He was fretful and easily displeased, and allowed himself to +be capriciously resentful. He would sometimes leave Lord +Oxford silently, no one could tell why, and was to be courted +back by more letters and messages than the footmen were willing +to carry. The table was indeed infested by Lady Mary +Wortley, who was the friend of Lady Oxford, and who, knowing his +peevishness, could by no entreaties be restrained from +contradicting him, till their disputes were sharpened to such +asperity, that one or the other quitted the house. He +sometimes condescended to be jocular with servants or inferiors; +but by no merriment, either of others or his own, was he ever +seen excited to laughter.</p> +<p>Of his domestic character, frugality was a part eminently +remarkable. Having determined not to be dependent, he +determined not to be in want, and therefore wisely and +magnanimously rejected all temptations to expense unsuitable to +his fortune. This general care must be universally +approved; but it sometimes appeared in petty artifices of +parsimony, such as the practice of writing his compositions on +the back of letters, as may be seen in the remaining copy of the +“Iliad,” by which perhaps in five years five +shillings were saved; or in a niggardly reception of his friends, +and scantiness of entertainment, as, when he had two guests in +his house, he would set at supper a single pint upon the table; +and having himself taken two small glasses, would retire, and +say, “Gentlemen. I leave you to your +wine.” Yet he tells his friends that “he has a +heart for all, a house for all, and whatever they may think, a +fortune for all.” He sometimes, however, made a +splendid dinner, and is said to have wanted no part of the skill +or elegance which such performances require. That this +magnificence should be often displayed, that obstinate prudence +with which he conducted his affairs would not permit; for his +revenue, certain and casual, amounted only to about eight hundred +pounds a year, of which, however, he declares himself able to +assign one hundred to charity. Of this fortune, which, as +it arose from public approbation, was very honourably obtained, +his imagination seems to have been too full: it would be hard to +find a man so well entitled to notice by his wit, that ever +delighted so much in talking of his money. In his Letters +and in his poems, his garden and his grotto, his quincunx and his +vines, or some hints of his opulence, are always to be +found. The great topic of his ridicule is poverty; the +crimes with which he reproaches his antagonists are their debts, +their habitation in the Mint, and their want of a dinner. +He seems to be of an opinion not very uncommon in the world, that +to want money is to want everything. Next to the pleasure +of contemplating his possessions, seems to be that of enumerating +the men of high rank with whom he was acquainted, and whose +notice he loudly proclaims not to have been obtained by any +practices of meanness or servility; a boast which was never +denied to be true, and to which very few poets have ever +aspired. Pope never set genius to sale; he never flattered +those whom he did not love, nor praised those whom he did not +esteem. Savage, however, remarked that he began a little to +relax his dignity when he wrote a distich for “his +Highness’s dog.”</p> +<p>His admiration of the great seems to have increased in the +advance of life. He passed over peers and statesmen to +inscribe his “Iliad” to Congreve, with a magnanimity +of which the praise had been complete, had his friend’s +virtue been equal to his wit. Why he was chosen for so +great an honour, it is not now possible to know; there is no +trace in literary history of any particular intimacy between +them. The name of Congreve appears in the Letters among +those of his other friends, but without any observable +distinction or consequence. To his latter works, however, +he took care to annex names dignified with titles, but was not +very happy in his choice; for, except Lord Bathurst, none of his +noble friends were such as that a good man would wish to have his +intimacy with them known to posterity; he can derive little +honour from the notice of Cobham, Burlington, or Bolingbroke.</p> +<p>Of his social qualities, if an estimate be made from his +Letters, an opinion too favourable cannot easily be formed; they +exhibit a perpetual and unclouded effulgence of general +benevolence, and particular fondness. There is nothing but +liberality, gratitude, constancy, and tenderness. It has +been so long said as to be commonly believed, that the true +characters of men may be found in their letters, and that he who +writes to his friend lays his heart open before him. But +the truth is that such were the simple friendships of the Golden +Age, and are now the friendships only of children. Very few +can boast of hearts which they dare lay open to themselves, and +of which, by whatever accident exposed, they do not shun a +distinct and continued view; and, certainly, who we hide from +ourselves we do not show to our friend. There is, indeed, +no transaction which offers strange temptations to fallacy and +sophistication than epistolary intercourse. In the +eagerness of conversation the first emotions of the mind often +burst out before they are considered; in the tumult of business, +interest and passion have their genuine effect; but a friendly +letter is a calm and deliberate performance in the cool of +leisure, in the stillness of solitude, and surely no man sits +down to depreciate by design his own character.</p> +<p>Friendship has no tendency to secure veracity; for by whom can +a man so much wish to be thought better than he is, as by him +whose kindness he desires to gain or keep? Even in writing +to the world there is less constraint; the author is not +confronted with his reader, and takes his chance of approbation +among the different dispositions of mankind; but a letter is +addressed to a single mind, of which the prejudices and +partialities are known; and must therefore please, if not by +favouring them, by forbearing to oppose them. To charge +those favourable representations, which men give of their own +minds, with the guilt of hypocritical falsehood, would show more +severity than knowledge. The writer commonly believes +himself. Almost every man’s thoughts, while they are +general, are right; and most hearts are pure while temptation is +away. It is easy to awaken generous sentiments in privacy; +to despise death when there is no danger; to glow with +benevolence when there is nothing to be given. While such +ideas are formed they are felt; and self-love does not suspect +the gleam of virtue to be the meteor of fancy.</p> +<p>If the Letters of Pope are considered merely as compositions, +they seem to be premeditated and artificial. It is one +thing to write because there is something which the mind wishes +to discharge, and another to solicit the imagination because +ceremony or vanity requires something to be written. Pope +confesses his early Letters to be vitiated with <i>affectation +and ambition</i>: to know whether he disentangled himself from +these perverters of epistolary integrity, his book and his life +must be set in comparison. One of his favourite topics is +contempt of his own poetry. For this, if it had been real, +he would deserve no commendation; and in this he was certainly +not sincere, for his high value of himself was sufficiently +observed; and of what could he be proud but of his poetry? +He writes, he says, when “he has just nothing else to +do;” yet Swift complains that he was never at leisure for +conversation, because he “had always some poetical scheme +in his head.” It was punctually required that his +writing-box should be set upon his bed before he rose; and Lord +Oxford’s domestic related that, in the dreadful winter of +Forty, she was called from her bed by him four times in one +night, to supply him with paper, lest he should lose a +thought. He pretends insensibility to censure and +criticism, though it was observed by all who knew him that every +pamphlet disturbed his quiet, and that his extreme irritability +laid him open to perpetual vexation; but he wished to despise his +critics, and therefore hoped that he did despise them. As +he happened to live in two reigns when the court paid little +attention to poetry, he nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of +kings, and proclaims that “he never sees +courts.” Yet a little regard shown him by the Prince +of Wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much to say when he +was asked by his Royal Highness, “How he could love a +prince while he disliked kings?”</p> +<p>He very frequently professes contempt of the world, and +represents himself as looking on mankind, sometimes with gay +indifference, as on emmets of a hillock, below his serious +attention; and sometimes with gloomy indignation, as on monsters +more worthy of hatred than pity. These were dispositions +apparently counterfeited. How could he despise those whom +he lived by pleasing, and on whose approbation his esteem of +himself was superstructed? Why should he hate those to +whose favour he owed his honour and his ease? Of things +that terminate in human life, the world is the proper judge: to +despise its sentence, if it were possible, is not just; and if it +were just, is not possible. Pope was far enough from this +unreasonable temper; he was sufficiently <i>a fool to fame</i>, +and his fault was that he pretended to neglect it. His +levity and his sullenness were only in his letters; he passed +through common life, sometimes vexed, and sometimes pleased, with +the natural emotions of common men. His scorn of the great +is repeated too often to be real; no man thinks much of that +which he despises; and as falsehood is always in danger of +inconsistency, he makes it his boast at another time that he +lives among them. It is evident that his own importance +swells often in his mind. He is afraid of writing, lest the +clerks of the post-office should know his secrets; he has many +enemies; he considers himself as surrounded by universal +jealousy: “After many deaths, and many dispersions, two or +three of us,” says he, “may still be brought +together, not to plot, but to divert ourselves, and the world +too, if it pleases;” and they can live together, and +“show what friends wits may be, in spite of all the fools +in the world.” All this while it was likely that the +clerks did not know his hand; he certainly had no more enemies +than a public character like his inevitably excites; and with +what degree of friendship the wits might live, very few were so +much fools as ever to inquire. Some part of this pretended +discontent he learned from Swift, and expresses it, I think, most +frequently in his correspondence with him. Swift’s +resentment was unreasonable, but it was sincere; Pope’s was +the mere mimicry of his friend, a fictitious part which he began +to play before it became him. When he was only twenty-five +years old, he related that “a glut of study and retirement +had thrown him on the world,” and that there was danger +lest “a glut of the world should throw him back upon study +and retirement.” To this Swift answered with great +propriety, that Pope had not yet acted or suffered enough in the +world to have become weary of it. And, indeed, it must have +been some very powerful reason that can drive back to solitude +him who has once enjoyed the pleasures of society.</p> +<p>In the Letters both of Swift and Pope there appears such +narrowness of mind as makes them insensible of any excellence +that has not some affinity with their own, and confines their +esteem and approbation to so small a number, that whoever should +form his opinion of their age from their representation, would +suppose them to have lived amidst ignorance and barbarity, unable +to find among their contemporaries either virtue or intelligence, +and persecuted by those that could not understand them.</p> +<p>When Pope murmurs at the world, when he professes contempt of +fame, when he speaks of riches and poverty, of success and +disappointment, with negligent indifference, he certainly does +not express his habitual and settled resentments, but either +wilfully disguises his own character, or, what is more likely, +invests himself with temporary qualities, and sallies out in the +colours of the present moment. His hopes and fears, his +joys and sorrows, acted strongly upon his mind, and if he +differed from others it was not by carelessness; he was irritable +and resentful; his malignity to Philips, whom he had first made +ridiculous and then hated for being angry continued too +long. Of his vain desire to make Bentley contemptible I +never heard any adequate reason. He was sometimes wanton in +his attacks, and before Chandos, Lady Wortley, and Hill, was mean +in his retreat. The virtues which seem to have had most of +his affection were liberality and fidelity of friendship, in +which it does not appear that he was other than he describes +himself. His fortune did not suffer his character to be +splendid and conspicuous, but he assisted Dodsley with a hundred +pounds that he might open a shop, and of the subscription of +forty pounds a year that he raised for Savage twenty were paid by +himself. He was accused of loving money, but his love was +eagerness to gain, not solicitude to keep it. In the duties +of friendship he was zealous and constant; his early maturity of +mind commonly united him with men older than himself, and +therefore, without attaining any considerable length of life, he +saw many companions of his youth sink into the grave; but it does +not appear that he lost a single friend by coldness or by injury; +those who loved him once continued their kindness. His +ungrateful mention of Allen in his will was the effect of his +adherence to one whom he had known much longer, and whom he +naturally loved with greater fondness. His violation of the +trust reposed in him by Bolingbroke could have no motive +inconsistent with the warmest affection; he either thought the +action so near to indifferent that he forgot it, or so laudable +that he expected his friend to approve it. It was reported +with such confidence as almost to enforce belief, that in the +papers entrusted to his executors was found a defamatory Life of +Swift, which he had prepared as an instrument of vengeance, to be +used if any provocation should be ever given. About this I +inquired of the Earl of Marchmont, who assured me that no such +piece was among his remains.</p> +<p>The religion in which he lived and died was that of the Church +of Rome, to which, in his correspondence with Racine, he +professes himself a sincere adherent. That he was not +scrupulously pious in some part of his life is known by many idle +and indecent applications of sentences taken from the Scriptures, +a mode of merriment which a good man dreads for its profaneness, +and a witty man disdains for its easiness and vulgarity. +But to whatever levities he has been betrayed, it does not appear +that his principles were ever corrupted, or that he ever lost his +belief of revelation. The positions which he transmitted +from Bolingbroke he seems not to have understood, and was pleased +with an interpretation that made them orthodox.</p> +<p>A man of such exalted superiority and so little moderation +would naturally have all his delinquencies observed and +aggravated; those who could not deny that he was excellent would +rejoice to find that he was not perfect. Perhaps it may be +imputed to the unwillingness with which the same man is allowed +to possess many advantages, that his learning has been +depreciated. He certainly was in his early life a man of +great literary curiosity, and when he wrote his “Essay on +Criticism,” had, for his age, a very wide acquaintance with +books. When he entered into the living world it seems to +have happened to him, as to many others, that he was less +attentive to dead masters; he studied in the academy of +Paracelsus, and made the universe his favourite volume. He +gathered his notions fresh from reality, not from the copies of +authors, but the originals of Nature. Yet there is no +reason to believe that literature ever lost his esteem; he always +professed to love reading, and Dobson, who spent some time at his +house translating his “Essay on Man,” when I asked +him what learning he found him to possess, answered, “More +than I expected.” His frequent references to history, +his allusions to various kinds of knowledge, and his images +selected from art and nature, with his observations on the +operations of the mind and the modes of life, show an +intelligence perpetually on the wing, excursive, vigorous, and +diligent, eager to pursue knowledge, and attentive to retain +it. From this curiosity arose the desire of travelling, to +which he alludes in his verses to Jervas, and which, though he +never found an opportunity to gratify it, did not leave him till +his life declined.</p> +<p>Of his intellectual character, the constituent and fundamental +principle was good sense, a prompt and intuitive perception of +consonance and propriety. He saw immediately of his own +conceptions what was to be chosen and what to be rejected, and, +in the works of others, what was to be shunned and what was to be +copied. But good sense alone is a sedate and quiescent +quality, which manages its possessions well, but does not +increase them; it collects few materials for its own operations, +and preserves safety, but never gains supremacy. Pope had +likewise genius; a mind active, ambitious, and adventurous, +always investigating, always aspiring; in its widest searches +still longing to go forward, in its highest flights still wishing +to be higher, always imagining some thing greater than it knows, +always endeavouring more than it can do. To assist these +powers he is said to have had great strength and exactness of +memory. That which he had heard or read was not easily +lost, and he had before him not only what his own meditations +suggested, but what he had found in other writers that might be +accommodated to his present purpose. These benefits of +Nature he improved by incessant and unwearied diligence; he had +recourse to every source of intelligence, and lost no opportunity +of information; he consulted the living as well as the dead; he +read his compositions to his friends, and was never content with +mediocrity when excellence could be attained. He considered +poetry as the business of his life, and however he might seem to +lament his occupation he followed it with constancy; to make +verses was his first labour, and to mend them was his last. +From his attention to poetry he was never diverted. If +conversation offered anything that could be improved, he +committed it to paper; if a thought, or perhaps an expression, +more happy than was common, rose to his mind, he was careful to +write it; an independent distich was preserved for an opportunity +of insertion, and some little fragments have been found +containing lines, or parts of lines, to be wrought upon at some +other time. He was one of those few whose labour is their +pleasure; he was never elevated to negligence nor wearied to +impatience; he never passed a fault unamended by indifference, +nor quitted it by despair. He laboured his works first to +gain reputation, and afterwards to keep it.</p> +<p>Of composition there are different methods. Some employ +at once memory and invention, and, with little intermediate use +of the pen, form and polish large masses by continued meditation, +and write their productions only when, in their own opinion, they +have completed them. It is related of Virgil that his +custom was to pour out a great number of verses in the morning, +and pass the day in retrenching exuberances and correcting +inaccuracies. The method of Pope, as may be collected from +his translation, was to write his first thoughts in his first +words, and gradually to amplify, decorate, rectify, and refine +them. With such faculties and such dispositions he excelled +every other writer in poetical prudence; he wrote in such a +manner as might expose him to few hazards. He used almost +always the same fabric of verse, and, indeed, by those few essays +which he made of any other, he did not enlarge his +reputation. Of this uniformity the certain consequence was +readiness and dexterity. By perpetual practice language +had, in his mind, a systematical arrangement; having always the +same use for words, he had words so selected and combined as to +be ready at his call. This increase of facility he +confessed himself to have perceived in the progress of his +translation. But what was yet of more importance, his +effusions were always voluntary, and his subjects chosen by +himself. His independence secured him from drudging at a +task, and labouring upon a barren topic; he never exchanged +praise for money, nor opened a shop of condolence or +congratulation. His poems, therefore, were scarcely ever +temporary. He suffered coronations and royal marriages to +pass without a song, and derived no opportunities from recent +events, nor any popularity from the accidental disposition of his +readers. He was never reduced to the necessity of +soliciting the sun to shine upon a birthday, of calling the +graces and virtues to a wedding, or of saying what multitudes +have said before him. When he could produce nothing new he +was at liberty to be silent.</p> +<p>His publications were for the same reason never hasty. +He is said to have sent nothing to the press till it had lain two +years under his inspection: it is at least certain that he +ventured nothing without nice examination. He suffered the +tumult of imagination to subside, and the novelties of invention +to grow familiar. He knew that the mind is always enamoured +of its own productions, and did not trust his first +fondness. He consulted his friends, and listened with great +willingness to criticism; and, what was of more importance, he +consulted himself, and let nothing pass against his own +judgment. He professed to have learned his poetry from +Dryden, whom, whenever an opportunity was presented, he praised +through his whole life with unvaried liberality; and perhaps his +character may receive some illustration if he be compared with +his master.</p> +<p>Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were not +allotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The +rectitude of Dryden’s mind was sufficiently shown by the +dismission of his poetical prejudices, and the rejection of +unnatural thoughts and rugged numbers. But Dryden never +desired to apply all the judgment that he had. He wrote, +and professed to write, merely for the people; and when he +pleased others, he contented himself. He spent no time in +struggles to rouse latent powers; he never attempted to make that +better which was already good, nor often to mend what he must +have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with +very little consideration; when occasion or necessity called upon +him, he poured out what the present moment happened to supply, +and, when once it had passed the press, ejected it from his mind; +for, when he had no pecuniary interest, he had no further +solicitude.</p> +<p>Pope was not content to satisfy; he desired to excel, and +therefore always endeavoured to do his best; he did not court the +candour, but dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no +indulgence from others, he showed none to himself. He +examined lines and words with minute and punctilious observation, +and retouched every part with indefatigable diligence, till he +had left nothing to be forgiven. For this reason he kept +his pieces very long in his hands, while he considered and +reconsidered them. The only poems which can be supposed to +have been written with such regard to the times as might hasten +their publication, were the two satires of +“Thirty-eight;” of which Dodsley told me that they +were brought to him by the author, that they might be fairly +copied. “Almost every line,” he said, +“was then written twice over; I gave him a clean +transcript, which he sent some time afterwards to me for the +press, with almost every line written twice over a second +time.” His declaration, that his care for his works +ceased at their publication, was not strictly true. His +parental attention never abandoned them; what he found amiss in +the first edition, he silently corrected in those that +followed. He appears to have revised the +“Iliad,” and freed it from some of its imperfections; +and the “Essay on Criticism” received many +improvements after its first appearance. It will seldom be +found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, or +vigour. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden +certainly wanted the diligence of Pope.</p> +<p>In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to +Dryden, whose education was more scholastic, and who before he +became an author had been allowed more time for study, with +better means of information. His mind has a larger range, +and he collects his images and illustrations from a more +extensive circumference of science. Dryden knew more of man +in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The +notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and +those of Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in +the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of +Pope. Poetry was not the sole praise of either; for both +excelled likewise in prose; but Pope did not borrow his prose +from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is capricious and +varied; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden +observes the motions of his own mind; Pope constrains his mind to +his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement +and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. +Dryden’s page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, +and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation; +Pope’s is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled +by the roller.</p> +<p>Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet; that quality +without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that +energy which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates; the +superiority must, with some hesitation, be allowed to +Dryden. It is not to be inferred that of this poetical +vigour Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more; for every +other writer since Milton must give place to Pope; and even of +Dryden it must be said that, if he has brighter paragraphs, he +has not better poems. Dryden’s performances were +always hasty, either excited by some external occasion, or +extorted by domestic necessity; he composed without +consideration, and published without correction. What his +mind could supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all +that he sought, and all that he gave. The dilatory caution +of Pope enabled him to condense his sentiments, to multiply his +images, and to accumulate all that study might produce or chance +might supply. If the flights of Dryden therefore are +higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of +Dryden’s fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope’s the +heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses +expectation, and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read +with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual +delight. This parallel will, I hope, when it is well +considered, be found just; and if the reader should suspect me, +as I suspect myself, of some partial fondness for the memory of +Dryden, let him not too hastily condemn me; for meditation and +inquiry may, perhaps, show him the reasonableness of my +determination.</p> +<p>The Works of Pope are now to be distinctly examined, not so +much with attention to slight faults or petty beauties, as to the +general character and effect of each performance.</p> +<p>It seems natural for a young poet to initiate himself by +pastorals, which, not professing to imitate real life, require no +experience; and, exhibiting only the simple operation of +unmingled passions, admit no subtle reasoning or deep +inquiry. Pope’s pastorals are not, however, composed +but with close thought; they have reference to the times of the +day, the seasons of the year, and the periods of human +life. The last, that which turns the attention upon age and +death, was the author’s favourite. To tell of +disappointment and misery, to thicken the darkness of futurity +and perplex the labyrinth of uncertainty, has been always a +delicious employment of the poets. His preference was +probably just. I wish, however, that his fondness had not +overlooked a line in which the Zephyrs are made to lament in +silence. To charge these pastorals with wane of invention, +is to require what was never intended. The imitations are +so ambitiously frequent, that the writer evidently means rather +to show his literature than his wit. It is surely +sufficient for an author of sixteen, not only to be able to copy +the poems of antiquity with judicious selection, but to have +obtained sufficient power of language, and skill in metre, to +exhibit a series of versification which had in English poetry no +precedent, nor has since had an imitation.</p> +<p>The design of “Windsor Forest” is evidently +derived from “Cooper’s Hill,” with some +attention to Waller’s poem on “The Park;” but +Pope cannot be denied to excel his masters in variety and +elegance, and the art of interchanging description, narrative, +and morality. The objection made by Dennis is the want of +plan, of a regular subordination of parts terminating in the +principal and original design. There is this want in most +descriptive poems, because as the scenes, which they must exhibit +successively, are all subsisting at the same time, the order in +which they are shown must by necessity be arbitrary, and more is +not to be expected from the last part than from the first. +The attention, therefore, which cannot be detained by suspense, +must be excited by diversity, such as this poem offers to its +reader. But the desire of diversity may be too much +indulged; the parts of “Windsor Forest” which deserve +least praise are those which were added to enliven the stillness +of the scene—the appearance of Father Thames, and the +transformation of Lodona. Addison had in his +“Campaign” derided the rivers that “rise from +their oozy beds” to tell stories of heroes; and it is +therefore strange that Pope should adopt a fiction not only +unnatural, but lately censured. The story of Lodona is told +with sweetness; but a new metamorphosis is a ready and puerile +expedient; nothing is easier than to tell how a flower was once a +blooming virgin, or a rock an obdurate tyrant.</p> +<p>The “Temple of Fame” has, as Steele warmly +declared, a “thousand beauties.” Every part is +splendid; there is great luxuriance of ornaments; the original +vision of Chaucer was never denied to be much improved; the +allegory is very skilfully continued, the imagery is properly +selected, and learnedly displayed; yet, with all this +comprehension of excellence, as its scene is laid in remote ages, +and its sentiments, if the concluding paragraph be excepted, have +little relation to general manners or common life, it never +obtained much notice, but is turned silently over, and seldom +quoted or mentioned with either praise or blame.</p> +<p>That the “Messiah” excels the “Pollio” +is no great praise, if it be considered from what original the +improvements are derived.</p> +<p>The “Verses on the Unfortunate Lady” have drawn +much attention by the illaudable singularity of treating suicide +with respect; and they must be allowed to be written in some +parts with vigorous animation, and in others with gentle +tenderness; nor has Pope produced any poem in which the sense +predominates more over the diction. But the tale is not +skilfully told; it is not easy to discover the character of +either the lady or her guardian. History relates that she +was about to disparage herself by a marriage with an inferior; +Pope praises her for the dignity of ambition, and yet condemns +the uncle to detestation for his pride; the ambitious love of a +niece may be opposed by the interest, malice, or envy of an +uncle, but never by his pride. On such an occasion a poet +may be allowed to be obscure, but inconsistency never can be +right.</p> +<p>The “Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day” was +undertaken at the desire of Steele: in this the author is +generally confessed to have miscarried, yet he has miscarried +only as compared with Dryden; for he has far outgone other +competitors. Dryden’s plan is better chosen; history +will always take stronger hold of the attention than fable: the +passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains of real +life, the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is +read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope +hangs upon the ear, and Dryden finds the passes of the +mind. Both the odes want the essential constituent of +metrical compositions, the stated recurrence of settled +numbers. It may be alleged that Pindar is said by Horace to +have written <i>numeris lege solutis</i>; but as no such lax +performances have been transmitted to us, the meaning of that +expression cannot be fixed; and perhaps the like return might +properly be made to a modern Pindarist as Mr. Cobb received from +Bentley, who, when he found his criticisms upon a Greek exercise, +which Cobb had presented, refuted one after another by +Pindar’s authority, cried out at last, “Pindar was a +bold fellow, but thou art an impudent one.”</p> +<p>If Pope’s ode be particularly inspected, it will be +found that the first stanza consists of sounds well chosen +indeed, but only sounds. The second consists of +hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and perhaps +without much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the +third, however, there are numbers, images, harmony, and rigour, +not unworthy the antagonist of Dryden. Had all been like +this—but every part cannot be the best. The next +stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of +mythology, where neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow +can be found: the poet, however, faithfully attends us; we have +all that can be performed by elegance of diction or sweetness of +versification; but what can form avail without better +matter? The last stanza recurs again to commonplaces. +The conclusion is too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and +it may be remarked that both end with the same fault; the +comparison of each is literal on one side and metaphorical on the +other. Poets do not always express their own thoughts: +Pope, with all this labour in the praise of music, was ignorant +of its principles and insensible of its effects.</p> +<p>One of his greatest, though of his earliest works, is the +“Essay on Criticism,” which, if he had written +nothing else, would have placed him among the first critics and +the first poets, as it exhibits every mode of excellence that can +embellish or dignify didactic composition, selection of matter, +novelty of arrangement, justness of precept, splendour of +illustration, and propriety of digression. I know not +whether it be pleasing to consider that he produced this piece at +twenty, and never afterwards excelled it: he that delights +himself with observing that such powers may be soon attained, +cannot but grieve to think that life was ever after at a +stand.</p> +<p>To mention the particular beauties of the essay would be +unprofitably tedious: but I cannot forbear to observe that the +comparison of a student’s progress in the sciences with the +journey of a traveller in the Alps is perhaps the best that +English poetry can show. A simile, to be perfect, must both +illustrate and ennoble the subject; must show it to the +understanding in a clearer view, and display it to the fancy with +greater dignity; but either of these qualities may be sufficient +to recommend it. In didactic poetry, of which the great +purpose is instruction, a simile may be praised which +illustrates, though it does not ennoble; in heroics, that may be +admitted which ennobles, though it does not illustrate. +That it may be complete, it is required to exhibit, independently +of its references, a pleasing image; for a simile is said to be a +short episode. To this antiquity was so attentive, that +circumstances were sometimes added, which, having no parallels, +served only to fill the imagination, and produced what Perrault +ludicrously called “comparisons with a long +tail.” In their similes the greatest writers have +sometimes failed; the ship-race, compared with the chariot-race, +is neither illustrated nor aggrandised; land and water make all +the difference: when Apollo, running after Daphne, is likened to +a greyhound chasing a hare, there is nothing gained; the ideas of +pursuit and flight are too plain to be made plainer; and a god +and the daughter of a god are not represented much to their +advantage by a hare and dog. The simile of the Alps has no +useless parts, yet affords a striking picture by itself; it makes +the foregoing position better understood, and enables it to take +faster hold on the attention; it assists the apprehension and +elevates the fancy. Let me likewise dwell a little on the +celebrated paragraph in which it is directed that “the +sound should seem an echo to the sense;” a precept which +Pope is allowed to have observed beyond any other English +poet.</p> +<p>This notion of representative metre, and the desire of +discovering frequent adaptations of the sound to the sense, have +produced, in my opinion, many wild conceits and imaginary +beauties. All that can furnish this representation are the +sounds of the words considered singly and the time in which they +are pronounced. Every language has some words framed to +exhibit the noises which they express, as <i>thump</i>, +<i>rattle</i>, <i>growl</i>, <i>hiss</i>. These, however, +are but few, and the poet cannot make them more, nor can they be +of any use but when sound is to be mentioned. The time of +pronunciation was in the dactylic measures of the learned +languages capable of considerable variety; but that variety could +be accommodated only to motion or duration, and different degrees +of motion were perhaps expressed by verses rapid or slow, without +much attention of the writer, when the image had full possession +of his fancy: but our language having little flexibility, our +verses can differ very little in their cadence. The fancied +resemblances, I fear, arise sometimes merely from the ambiguity +of words; there is supposed to be some relation between a +<i>soft</i> line and <i>soft</i> couch, or between <i>heard</i> +syllables and <i>hard</i> fortune. Motion, however, may be +in some sort exemplified; and yet it may be suspected that in +such resemblances the mind often governs the ear, and the sounds +are estimated by their meaning. One of their most +successful attempts has been to describe the labour of +Sisyphus:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“With many a weary step, and many a +groan,<br /> +Up a high hill he heaves a huge round stone;<br /> +The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,<br /> +Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.”</p> +<p>Who does not perceive the stone to move slowly upward, and +roll violently back? But set the same numbers to another +sense:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“While many a merry tale, and many a +song,<br /> +Cheered the rough road, we wished the rough road long.<br /> +The rough road, then, returning in a round,<br /> +Mocked our impatient steps, for all was fairy ground.”</p> +<p>We have now surely lost much of the delay and much of the +rapidity. But, to show how little the greatest master of +numbers can fix the principles of representative harmony, it will +be sufficient to remark that the poet who tells us +that—</p> +<p class="poetry">“When Ajax strives some rock’s vast +weight to throw,<br /> +The line too labours, and the words move slow:<br /> +Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,<br /> +Flies o’er th’ unbending corn, and skims along the +main;”</p> +<p>when he had enjoyed for about thirty years the praise of +Camilla’s lightness of foot, he tried another experiment +upon <i>sound</i> and <i>time</i>, and produced this memorable +triplet:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to +join<br /> +The varying verse, the full resounding line,<br /> +The long majestic march, and energy divine.”</p> +<p>Here are the swiftness of the rapid race, and the march of +slow-paced majesty, exhibited by the same poet in the same +sequence of syllables, except that the exact prosodist will find +the line of <i>swiftness</i> by one time longer than that of +<i>tardiness</i>. Beauties of this kind are commonly +fancied, and, when real, are technical and nugatory, not to be +rejected and not to be solicited.</p> +<p>To the praises which have been accumulated on the “Rape +of the Look” by readers of every class, from the critic to +the waiting-maid, it is difficult to make any addition. Of +that which is universally allowed to be the most attractive of +all ludicrous compositions, let it rather be now inquired from +what sources the power of pleasing is derived.</p> +<p>Dr. Warburton, who excelled in critical perspicacity, has +remarked that the preternatural agents are very happily adapted +to the purposes of the poem. The heathen deities can no +longer gain attention; we should have turned away from a contest +between Venus and Diana. The employment of allegorical +persons always excites conviction of its own absurdity; they may +produce effects, but cannot conduct actions; when the phantom is +put in motion it dissolves; thus <i>Discord</i> may raise a +mutiny, but <i>Discord</i> cannot conduct a march nor besiege a +town. Pope brought in view a new race of beings, with +powers and passions proportionate to their operation. The +Sylphs and Gnomes act at the toilet and the tea-table what more +terrific and more powerful phantoms perform on the stormy ocean +or the field of battle: they give their proper help and do their +proper mischief. Pope is said, by an objector, not to have +been the inventor of this petty notion, a charge which might with +more justice have been brought against the author of the +“Iliad,” who doubtless adopted the religious system +of his country; for what is there but the names of his agents +which Pope has not invented? Has he not assigned them +characters and operations never heard of before? Has he +not, at least, given them their first poetical existence? +If this is not sufficient to denominate his work original, +nothing original ever can be written.</p> +<p>In this work are exhibited in a very high degree the two most +engaging powers of an author. New things are made familiar, +and familiar things are made new. A race of aërial +people never heard of before is presented to us in a manner so +clear and easy that the reader seeks for no further information, +but immediately mingles with his new acquaintance, adopts their +interests, and attends their pursuits, loves a Sylph, and detests +a Gnome. That familiar things are made new every paragraph +will prove. The subject of the poem is an event below the +common incidents of common life; nothing real is introduced that +is not seen so often as to be no longer regarded; yet the whole +detail of a female day is here brought before us, invested with +so much art of decoration that, though nothing is disguised, +everything is striking, and we feel all the appetite of curiosity +for that from which we have a thousand times turned fastidiously +away.</p> +<p>The purpose of the poet is, as he tells us, to laugh at +“the little unguarded follies of the female +sex.” It is therefore without justice that Dennis +charges the “Rape of the Lock” with the want of a +moral, and for that reason sets it below the +“Lutrin,” which exposes the pride and discord of the +clergy. Perhaps neither Pope nor Boileau has made the world +much better than he found it; but if they had both succeeded, it +were easy to tell who would have deserved most from public +gratitude. The freaks, and humours, and spleen, and vanity +of women as they embroil families in discord, and fill houses +with disquiet, do more to obstruct the happiness of life in a +year than the ambition of the clergy in many centuries. It +has been well observed that the misery of man proceeds not from +any single crush of overwhelming evil, but from small vexatious +continually repeated. It is remarked by Dennis, likewise, +that the machinery is superfluous; that, by all the bustle of +preternatural operation, the main event is neither hastened nor +retarded. To this charge an efficacious answer is not +easily made. The Sylphs cannot be said to help or oppose; +and it must be allowed to imply some want of art that their power +has not been sufficiently intermingled with the action. +Other parts may likewise be charged with want of +connection—the game at <i>ombre</i> might be spared; but if +the lady had lost her hair while she was intent upon her cards it +might have been inferred that those who are too fond of play will +be in danger of neglecting more important interests. Those, +perhaps, are faults, but what are such faults to so much +excellence!</p> +<p>The Epistle of “Eloise to Abelard” is one of the +most happy productions of human wit; the subject is so +judiciously chosen that it would be difficult in turning over the +annals of the world to find another which so many circumstances +concur to recommend. We regularly interest ourselves most +in the fortune of those who most deserve our notice. +Abelard and Eloise were conspicuous in their days for eminence of +merit. The heart naturally loves truth. The +adventures and misfortunes of this illustrious pair are known +from undisputed history. Their fate does not leave the mind +in hopeless dejection, for they both found quiet and consolation +in retirement and piety. So new and so affecting is their +story that it supersedes invention, and imagination ranges at +full liberty without straggling into scenes of fable. The +story thus skilfully adopted has been diligently improved. +Pope has left nothing behind him which seems more the effect of +studious perseverance and laborious revisal. Here is +particularly observable the <i>curiosa felicitas</i>, a fruitful +soil and careful cultivation. Here is no crudeness of sense +nor asperity of language. The sources from which sentiments +which have so much vigour and efficacy have been drawn are shown +to be the mystic writers by the learned author of the +“Essays on the Life and Writings of Pope,” a book +which teaches how the brow of Criticism may be smoothed, and how +she may be enabled, with all her severity, to attract and to +delight.</p> +<p>The train of my disquisition has now conducted me to that +poetical wonder, the translation of the “Iliad,” a +performance which no age or nation can pretend to equal. To +the Greeks translation was almost unknown; it was totally unknown +to the inhabitants of Greece. They had no recourse to the +barbarians for poetical beauties, but sought for everything in +Homer, where, indeed, there is but little which they might not +find. The Italians have been very diligent translators, but +I can hear of no version, unless, perhaps, Anguillara’s +“Ovid” may be excepted, which is read with +eagerness. The “Iliad” of Salvini every reader +may discover to be punctiliously exact; but it seems to be the +work of a linguist skilfully pedantic; and his countrymen, the +proper judges of its power to please, reject it with +disgust. Their predecessors, the Romans, have left some +specimens of translation behind them, and that employment must +have had some credit in which Tully and Germanicus engaged; but +unless we suppose, what is perhaps true, that the plays of +Terence were versions of Menander, nothing translated seems ever +to have risen to high reputation. The French in the +meridian hour of their learning were very laudably industrious to +enrich their own language with the wisdom of the ancients; but +found themselves reduced by whatever necessity to turn the Greek +and Roman poetry into prose. Whoever could read an author +could translate him. From such rivals little can be +feared.</p> +<p>The chief help of Pope in this audacious undertaking was drawn +from the versions of Dryden. Virgil had borrowed much of +his imagery from Homer; and part of the debt was now paid by his +translator. Pope searched the pages of Dryden for happy +combinations of heroic diction, but it will not be denied that he +added much to what he found. He cultivated our language +with so much diligence and art, that he has left in his +“Homer” a treasure of poetical elegances to +posterity. His version may be said to have tuned the +English tongue; for since its appearance no writer, however +deficient in other powers, has wanted melody. Such a series +of lines, so elaborately corrected, and so sweetly modulated, +took possession of the public ear; the vulgar was enamoured of +the poem, and the learned wondered at the translation. But +in the most general applause discordant voices will always be +heard. It has been objected by some who wish to be numbered +among the sons of learning that Pope’s version of Homer is +not Homerical; that it exhibits no resemblance of the original +and characteristic manner of the Father of Poetry, as it wants +his artless grandeur, his unaffected majesty. This cannot +be totally denied; but it must be remembered that <i>necessitas +quod cogit defendit</i>; that may be lawfully done which cannot +be forborne. Time and place will always enforce +regard. In estimating this translation, consideration must +be had of the nature of our language, the form of our metre, and, +above all, of the change which two thousand years have made in +the modes of life and the habits of thought. Virgil wrote +in a language of the same general fabric with that of Homer, in +verses of the same measure, and in an age nearer to Homer’s +time by eighteen hundred years; yet he found even then the state +of the world so much altered, and the demand for elegance so much +increased, that mere nature would be endured no longer; and, +perhaps, in the multitude of borrowed passages, very few can be +shown which he has not embellished.</p> +<p>There is a time when nations, emerging from barbarity, and +falling into regular subordination, gain leisure to grow wise, +and feel the shame of ignorance and the craving pain of +unsatisfied curiosity. To this hunger of the mind plain +sense is grateful; that which fills the void removes uneasiness, +and to be free from pain for a while is pleasure; but repletion +generates fastidiousness; a saturated intellect soon becomes +luxurious, and knowledge finds no willing reception till it is +recommended by artificial diction. Thus it will be found, +in the progress of learning, that in all nations the first +writers are simple, and that every age improves in +elegance. One refinement always makes way for another; and +what was expedient to Virgil was necessary to Pope. I +suppose many readers of the English “Iliad,” when +they have been touched with some unexpected beauty of the lighter +kind, have tried to enjoy it in the original, where, alas! it was +not to be found. Homer doubtless owes to his translator +many Ovidian graces not exactly suitable to his character; but to +have added can be no great crime, if nothing be taken away. +Elegance is surely to be desired, if it be not gained at the +expense of dignity. A hero would wish to be loved, as well +as to be reverenced. To a thousand cavils one answer is +sufficient; the purpose of a writer is to be read, and the +criticism which would destroy the power of pleasing must be blown +aside. Pope wrote for his own age and his own nation: he +knew that it was necessary to colour the images and point the +sentiments of his author; he therefore made him graceful, but +lost him some of his sublimity. The copious notes with +which the version is accompanied, and by which it is recommended +to many readers, though they were undoubtedly written to swell +the volumes, ought not to pass without praise: commentaries which +attract the reader by the pleasure of perusal have not often +appeared; the notes of others are read to clear difficulties; +those of Pope to vary entertainment. It has, however, been +objected, with sufficient reason, that there is in the commentary +too much of unseasonable levity and affected gaiety; that too +many appeals are made to the ladies, and the ease which is so +carefully preserved is sometimes the ease of a trifler. +Every art has its terms, and every kind of instruction its proper +style; the gravity of common critics may be tedious, but is less +despicable than childish merriment.</p> +<p>Of the “Odyssey” nothing remains to be observed; +the same general praise may be given to both translations, and a +particular examination of either would require a large +volume. The notes were written by Broome, who endeavoured, +not unsuccessfully, to imitate his master.</p> +<p>Of the “Dunciad” the hint is confessedly taken +from Dryden’s “Mac Flecknoe;” but the plan is +so enlarged and diversified as justly to claim the praise of an +original, and affords the best specimen that has yet appeared of +personal satire ludicrously pompous. That the design was +moral, whatever the author might tell either his readers or +himself, I am not convinced. The first motive was the +desire of revenging the contempt with which Theobald had treated +his Shakspeare, and regaining the honour which he had lost, by +crushing his opponent. Theobald was not of bulk enough to +fill a poem, and therefore it was necessary to find other enemies +with other names, at whose expense he might divert the +public.</p> +<p>In this design there was petulance and malignity enough; but I +cannot think it very criminal. An author places himself +uncalled before the tribunal of criticism, and solicits fame at +the hazard of disgrace. Dulness or deformity are not +culpable in themselves, but may be very justly reproached when +they pretend to the honour of wit or the influence of +beauty. If bad writers were to pass without reprehension, +what should restrain them? <i>impune diem consumpserit ingens +Telephus</i>; and upon bad writers only will censure have much +effect. The satire which brought Theobald and Moore into +contempt dropped impotent from Bentley, like the javelin of +Priam. All truth is valuable, and satirical criticism may +be considered as useful when it rectifies error and improves +judgment; he that refines the public taste is a public +benefactor. The beauties of this poem are well known; its +chief fault is the grossness of its images. Pope and Swift +had an unnatural delight in ideas physically impure, such as +every other tongue utters with unwillingness, and of which every +ear shrinks from the mention. But even this fault, +offensive as it is, may be forgiven for the excellence of other +passages; such as the formation and dissolution of Moore, the +account of the Traveller, the misfortune of the Florist, and the +crowded thoughts and stately numbers which dignify the concluding +paragraph. The alterations which have been made in the +“Dunciad,” not always for the better, require that it +should be published, as in the present collection, with all its +variations.</p> +<p>The “Essay on Man” was a work of great labour and +long consideration, but certainly not the happiest of +Pope’s performances. The subject is perhaps not very +proper for poetry; and the poet was not sufficiently master of +his subject; metaphysical morality was to him a new study; he was +proud of his acquisitions, and, supposing himself master of great +secrets, was in haste to teach what he had not learned. +Thus he tells us, in the first Epistle, that from the nature of +the Supreme Being may be deduced an order of beings such as +mankind, because infinite excellence can do only what is +best. He finds out that these beings must be +“somewhere;” and that “all the question is, +whether man be in a wrong place.” Surely if, +according to the poet’s Leibnitzian reasoning, we may infer +that man ought to be, only because he is, we may allow that his +place is the right place, because he has it. Supreme Wisdom +is not less infallible in disposing than in creating. But +what is meant by <i>somewhere</i>, and <i>place</i>, and <i>wrong +piece</i>, it had been in vain to ask Pope, who probably had +never asked himself.</p> +<p>Having exalted himself into the chair of wisdom, he tells us +much that every man knows, and much that he does not know +himself; that we see but little, and that the order of the +universe is beyond our comprehension; an opinion not very +uncommon; and that there is a chain of subordinate beings +“from infinite to nothing,” of which himself and his +readers are equally ignorant. But he gives us one comfort, +which without his help he supposes unattainable, in the position +“that though we are fools, yet God is wise.”</p> +<p>This essay affords an egregious instance of the predominance +of genius, the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive +powers of eloquence. Never was penury of knowledge and +vulgarity of sentiment so happily disguised. The reader +feels his mind full, though he learns nothing; and, when he meets +it in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his mother and +his nurse. When these wonder-working sounds sink into +sense, and the doctrine of the essay, disrobed of its ornaments, +is left to the powers of its naked excellence, what shall we +discover? That we are, in comparison with our Creator, very +weak and ignorant; that we do not uphold the chain of existence; +and that we could not make one another with more skill than we +are made. We may learn yet more that the arts of human life +were copied from the instinctive operations of other animals; +that if the world be made for man, it may be said that man was +made for geese. To these profound principles of natural +knowledge are added some moral instructions equally new; that +self-interest, well understood, will produce social concord; that +men are mutual gainers by mutual benefits; that evil is sometimes +balanced by good; that human advantages are unstable and +fallacious, of uncertain duration and doubtful effect; that our +true honour is not to have a great part, but to act it well; that +virtue only is our own; and that happiness is always in our +power. Surely a man of no very comprehensive search may +venture to say that he has heard all this before; but it was +never till now recommended by such a blaze of embellishments, or +such sweetness of melody. The vigorous contraction of some +thoughts, the luxuriant amplification of others, the incidental +illustrations, and sometimes the dignity, sometimes the softness +of the verses, enchain philosophy, suspend criticism, and oppress +judgment by overpowering pleasure. This is true of many +paragraphs; yet, if I had undertaken to exemplify Pope’s +felicity of composition before a rigid critic, I should not +select the “Essay on Man;” for it contains more lines +unsuccessfully laboured, more harshness of diction, and more +thoughts imperfectly expressed, more levity without elegance, and +more heaviness without strength, than will easily be found in all +his other works.</p> +<p>The “Characters of Men and Women” are the product +of diligent speculation upon human life; much labour has been +bestowed upon them, and Pope very seldom laboured in vain. +That his excellence may be properly estimated, I recommend a +comparison of his “Characters of Women” with +Boileau’s Satire; it will then be seen with how much more +perspicacity female nature is investigated, and female excellence +selected; and he surely is no mean writer to whom Boileau should +be found inferior. The “Characters of Men,” +however, are written with more, if not with deeper, thought, and +exhibit many passages exquisitely beautiful. The “Gem +and the Flower” will not easily be equalled. In the +women’s part are some defects; the character of Atossa is +not so neatly finished as that of Clodio, and some of the female +characters may be found, perhaps, more frequently among men; what +is said of Philomede was true of Prior.</p> +<p>In the Epistles to Lord Bathurst and Lord Burlington, Dr. +Warburton has endeavoured to find a train of thought which was +never in the writer’s head, and, to support his hypothesis, +has printed that first which was published last. In one the +most valuable passage is perhaps the Elegy on Good Sense, and the +other the end of the Duke of Buckingham.</p> +<p>The Epistle to Arbuthnot, now arbitrarily called the +“Prologue to the Satires,” is a performance +consisting, as it seems, of many fragments wrought into one +design, which, by this union of scattered beauties, contains more +striking paragraphs than could probably have been brought +together into an occasional work. As there is no stronger +motive to exertion than self-defence, no part has more elegance, +spirit, or dignity, than the poet’s vindication of his own +character. The meanest passage is the satire upon +Sporus.</p> +<p>Of the two poems which derived their names from the year, and +which are called the “Epilogue to the Satires,” it +was very justly remarked by Savage that the second was in the +whole more strongly conceived, and more equally supported, but +that it had no single passages equal to the contention in the +first for the dignity of Vice and the celebration of the triumph +of Corruption.</p> +<p>The “Imitations of Horace” seem to have been +written as relaxations of his genius. This employment +became his favourite by its facility; the plan was ready to his +hand, and nothing was required but to accommodate as he could the +sentiments of an old author to recent facts or familiar images; +but what is easy is seldom excellent. Such imitations +cannot give pleasure to common readers; the man of learning may +be sometimes surprised and delighted by an unexpected parallel, +but the comparison requires knowledge of the original, which will +likewise often detect strained applications. Between Roman +images and English manners there will be an irreconcilable +dissimilitude, and the works will be generally uncouth and +parti-coloured, neither original nor translated, neither ancient +nor modern.</p> +<p>Pope had, in proportions very nicely adjusted to each other, +all the qualities that constitute genius. He had +<i>intention</i>, by which new trains of events are formed and +new scenes of imagery displayed, as in the “Rape of the +Lock,” and by which extrinsic and adventitious +embellishments and illustrations are connected with a known +subject, as in the “Essay on Criticism.” He had +<i>imagination</i>, which strongly impresses on the +writer’s mind, and enables him to convey to the reader the +various forms of nature, incidents of life, and energies of +passion, as in his “Eloisa,” “Windsor +Forest,” and “Ethic Epistles.” He had +<i>judgment</i>, which selects from life or Nature what the +present purpose requires, and by separating the essence of things +from its concomitants, often makes the representation more +powerful than the reality; and he had colours of language always +before him, ready to decorate his matter with every grace of +elegant expression, as when he accommodates his diction to the +wonderful multiplicity of Homer’s sentiments and +descriptions.</p> +<p>Poetical expression includes sound as well as meaning. +“Music,” says Dryden, “is inarticulate +poetry;” among the excellences of Pope, therefore, must be +mentioned the melody of his metre. By perusing the works of +Dryden, he discovered the most perfect fabric of English verse, +and habituated himself to that only which he found the best; in +consequence of which restraint his poetry has been censured as +too uniformly musical, and as glutting the ear with unvaried +sweetness. I suspect this objection to be the cant of those +who judge by principles rather than perception, and who would +even themselves have less pleasure in his works if he had tried +to relieve attention by studied discords, or affected to break +his lines and vary his pauses. But though he was thus +careful of his versification, he did not oppress his powers with +superfluous rigour. He seems to have thought with Boileau +that the practice of writing might be refined till the difficulty +should overbalance the advantage. The construction of the +language is not always strictly grammatical; with those rhymes +which prescription had conjoined he contented himself, without +regard to Swift’s remonstrances, though there was no +striking consonance, nor was he very careful to vary his +terminations or to refuse admission, at a small distance, to the +same rhymes. To Swift’s edict for the exclusion of +alexandrines and triplets he paid little regard; he admitted +them, but, in the opinion of Fenton, too rarely; he uses them +more liberally in his translation than his poems. He has a +few double rhymes, and always, I think, unsuccessfully, except +once in the “Rape of the Lock.” Expletives he +very early ejected from his verses, but he now and then admits an +epithet rather commodious than important. Each of the six +first lines of the “Iliad” might lose two syllables +with very little diminution of the meaning, and sometimes, after +all his art and labour, one verse seems to be made for the sake +of another. In his latter productions the diction is +sometimes vitiated by French idioms, with which Bolingbroke had +perhaps infected him.</p> +<p>I have been told that the couplet by which he declared his own +ear to be most gratified was this:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Lo, where Mæotis sleeps, and +hardly flows<br /> +The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.”</p> +<p>But the reason of this preference I cannot discover.</p> +<p>It is remarked by Watts that there is scarcely a happy +combination of words, or a phrase poetically elegant in the +English language, which Pope has not inserted into his version of +Homer. How he obtained possession of so many beauties of +speech it were desirable to know. That he gleaned from +authors, obscure as well as eminent, what he thought brilliant or +useful, and preserved it all in a regular collection, is not +unlikely. When, in his last years, Hall’s +“Satires” were shown him, he wished that he had seen +them sooner. New sentiments and new images others may +produce; but to attempt any further improvement of versification +will be dangerous. Art and diligence have now done their +best, and what shall be added will be the effort of tedious toil +and needless curiosity. After all this, it is surely +superfluous to answer the question that has once been asked, +Whether Pope was a poet, otherwise than by asking in return, If +Pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? To +circumscribe poetry by a definition will only show the narrowness +of the definer, though a definition which shall exclude Pope will +not easily be made. Let us look round upon the present time +and back upon the past; let us inquire to whom the voice of +mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions +be examined, and their claims stated, and the pretensions of Pope +will be no more disputed. Had he given the world only his +version, the name of poet must have been allowed him: if the +writer of the “Iliad” were to class his successors he +would assign a very high place to his translator, without +requiring any other evidence of genius.</p> +<p>The following letter, of which the original is in the hands of +Lord Hardwicke, was communicated to me by the kindness of Mr. +Jodrell:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“<i>To</i> <span +class="smcap">Mr. Bridges</span>, <i>at the Bishop of +London’s</i>, <i>at Fulham</i>.</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—The favour of +your letter, with your remarks, can never be enough acknowledged, +and the speed with which you discharged so troublesome a task +doubles the obligation.</p> +<p>“I must own you have pleased me very much by the +commendations so ill bestowed upon me; but I assure you, much +more by the frankness of your censure, which I ought to take the +more kindly of the two, as it is more advantage to a scribbler to +be improved in his judgment than to be smoothed in his +vanity. The greater part of those deviations from the Greek +which you have observed I was led into by Chapman and Hobbes; who +are, it seems, as much celebrated for their knowledge of the +original as they are decried for the badness of their +translations. Chapman pretends to have restored the genuine +sense of the author from the mistakes of all former explainers in +several hundred places; and the Cambridge editors of the large +Homer, in Greek and Latin, attributed so much to Hobbes, that +they confess they have corrected the old Latin interpretation +very often by his version. For my part, I generally took +the author’s meaning to be as you have explained it; yet +their authority, joined to the knowledge of my own imperfectness +in the language, overruled me. However, sir, you may be +confident, I think you in the right, because you happen to be of +my opinion; for men (let them say what they will) never approve +any other’s sense but as it squares with their own. +But you have made me much more proud of and positive in my +judgment, since it is strengthened by yours. I think your +criticisms which regard the expression very just, and shall make +my profit of them; to give you some proof that I am in earnest, I +will alter three verses on your bare objection, though I have Mr. +Dryden’s example for each of them. And this, I hope, +you will account no small piece of obedience, from one who values +the authority of one true poet above that of twenty critics or +commentators. But, though I speak thus of commentators, I +will continue to read carefully all I can procure, to make up +that way for my own want of critical understanding in the +original beauties of Homer. Though the greatest of them are +certainly those of invention and design, which are not at all +confined to the language; for the distinguishing excellences of +Homer are (by the consent of the best critics of all nations), +first in the manners (which include all the speeches, as being no +other than the representations of each person’s manners by +his words): and then in that rapture and fire, which carries you +away with him, with that wonderful force, that no man who has a +true poetical spirit is master of himself while he reads +him. Homer makes you interested and concerned before you +are aware, all at once, where Virgil does it by soft +degrees. This, I believe, is what a translator of Homer +ought principally to imitate; and it is very hard for any +translator to come up to it, because the chief reason why all +translations fall short of their originals is, that the very +constraint they are obliged to renders them heavy and +dispirited.</p> +<p>“The great beauty of Homer’s language, as I take +it, consists in that noble simplicity which runs through all his +works (and yet his diction, contrary to what one would imagine +consistent with simplicity, is at the same time very +copious). I don’t know how I have run into this +pedantry in a letter, but I find I have said too much, as well as +spoken too inconsiderately; what farther thoughts I have upon +this subject I shall be glad to communicate to you (for my own +improvement) when we meet, which is a happiness I very earnestly +desire, as I do likewise some opportunity of proving how much I +think myself obliged to your friendship, and how truly I am, +sir,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“Your most faithful humble +servant,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“A. <span +class="smcap">Pope</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The criticism upon Pope’s Epitaphs, which was printed in +“The Universal Visitor,” is placed here, being too +minute and particular to be inserted in the Life.</p> +<p>Every art is best taught by example. Nothing contributes +more to the cultivation of propriety than remarks on the works of +those who have most excelled. I shall therefore endeavour +at this <i>visit</i> to entertain the young students in poetry +with an examination of Pope’s Epitaphs.</p> +<p>To define an epitaph is useless; every one knows that it is an +inscription on a tomb. An epitaph, therefore, implies no +particular character of writing, but may be composed in verse or +prose. It is, indeed, commonly panegyrical, because we are +seldom distinguished with a stone but by our friends; but it has +no rule to restrain or mollify it except this, that it ought not +to be longer than common beholders may be expected to have +leisure and patience to peruse.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">I.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On</i> <span +class="smcap">Charles</span> <i>Earl of</i> <span +class="smcap">Dorset</span>, <i>in the church of Wythyham in +Sussex</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Dorset, the grace of courts, +the Muse’s pride,<br /> +Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died.<br /> +The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great,<br /> +Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state;<br /> +Yet soft in nature, though severe his lay,<br /> +His anger moral, and his wisdom gay.<br /> +Blest satirist! who touched the means so true,<br /> +As showed Vice had his hate and pity too.<br /> +Blest courtier! who could king and country please,<br /> +Yet sacred kept his friendship and his ease.<br /> +Blest peer! his great forefathers’ every grace<br /> +Reflecting, and reflected on his race;<br /> +Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine,<br /> +And patriots still, or pests, deck the line.</p> +<p>The first distich of this epitaph contains a kind of +information which few would want, that the man for whom the tomb +was erected <i>died</i>. There are indeed some qualities +worthy of the praise ascribed to the dead, but none that were +likely to exempt him from the lot of man, or incline us much to +wonder that he should die. What is meant by “judge of +nature” is not easy to say. Nature is not the object +of human judgment; for it is in vain to judge where we cannot +alter. If by nature is meant what is commonly called +<i>nature</i> by the critics, a just representation of things +really existing, and actions really performed, nature cannot be +properly opposed to <i>art</i>; nature being, in this sense, only +the best effect of <i>art</i>.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">The scourge of +pride—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of this couplet the second line is not what is intended, an +illustration of the former. <i>Pride</i> in the +<i>Great</i>, is indeed well enough connected with knaves in +state, though <i>knaves</i> is a word rather too ludicrous and +light; but the mention of <i>sanctified</i> pride will not lead +the thoughts to <i>fops in learning</i>, but rather to some +species of tyranny or oppression, something more gloomy and more +formidable than foppery.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">Yet soft his +nature—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is a high compliment, but was not first bestowed on +Dorset by Pope. The next verse is extremely beautiful.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">Blest +satirist!—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In this distich is another line of which Pope was not the +author. I do not mean to blame these imitations with much +harshness; in long performances they are scarcely to be avoided, +and in shorter they may be indulged, because the train of the +composition may naturally involve them, or the scantiness of the +subject allow little choice. However, what is borrowed is +not to be enjoyed as our own, and it is the business of critical +justice to give every bird of the Muses his proper feather.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">Blest +courtier!—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Whether a courtier can properly be commended for keeping his +<i>ease sacred</i>, may perhaps be disputable. To please +king and country without sacrificing friendship to any change of +times was a very uncommon instance of prudence or felicity, and +deserved to be kept separate from so poor a commendation as care +of his ease. I wish our poets would attend a little more +accurately to the use of the word <i>sacred</i>, which surely +should never be applied in a serious composition, but where some +reference may be made to a higher Being, or where some duty is +exacted or implied. A man may keep his friendship sacred, +because promises of friendship are very awful ties; but methinks +he cannot, but in a burlesque sense, be said to keep his ease +<i>sacred</i>.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">Blest peer!—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The blessing ascribed to the <i>peer</i> has no connection +with his peerage; they might happen to any other man whose +posterity were likely to be regarded.</p> +<p>I know not whether this epitaph be worthy either of the writer +or the man entombed.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">II.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On Sir</i> <span +class="smcap">William Trumbull</span>, <i>one of the principal +Secretaries of State to King</i> <span +class="smcap">William</span> III., <i>who</i>, <i>having resigned +his place</i>, <i>died in his retirement at Easthamstead</i>, +<i>in Berkshire</i>, <i>1716</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> A pleasing form, a firm, yet +cautious mind,<br /> +Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resigned;<br /> +Honour unchanged, a principle profest.<br /> +Fixed to one side, but moderate to the rest;<br /> +An honest courtier, yet a patriot too,<br /> +Just to his prince, and to his country true;<br /> +Filled with the sense of age, the fire of youth,<br /> +A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth;<br /> +A generous faith, from superstition free;<br /> +A love to peace, and hate of tyranny;<br /> +Such this man was; who new from earth removed<br /> +At length enjoys that liberty he loved.</p> +<p>In this epitaph, as in many others, there appears at the first +view a fault which I think scarcely any beauty can +compensate. The name is omitted. The end of an +epitaph is to convey some account of the dead; and to what +purpose is anything told of him whose name is concealed? An +epitaph, and a history of a nameless hero, are equally absurd, +since the virtues and qualities so recounted in either are +scattered at the mercy of fortune to be appropriated by +guess. The name, it is true, may be read upon the stone; +but what obligation has it to the poet, whose verses wander over +the earth and leave their subject behind them, and who is forced, +like an unskilful painter, to make his purpose known by +adventitious help? This epitaph is wholly without +elevation, and contains nothing striking or particular; but the +poet is not to be blamed for the defect of his subject. He +said perhaps the best that could be said. There are, +however, some defects which were not made necessary by the +character in which he was employed. There is no opposition +between an <i>honest courtier</i> and a <i>patriot</i>; for an +<i>honest</i>, <i>courtier</i> cannot but be a +<i>patriot</i>. It was unsuitable to the nicety required in +short compositions to close his verse with the word <i>too</i>; +every rhyme should be a word of emphasis: nor can this rule be +safely neglected, except where the length of the poem makes +slight inaccuracies excusable, or allows room for beauties +sufficient to overpower the effects of petty faults.</p> +<p>At the beginning of the seventh line the word <i>filled</i> is +weak and prosaic, having no particular adaptation to any of the +words that follow it. The thought in the last line is +impertinent, having no connection with the foregoing character, +nor with the condition of the man described. Had the +epitaph been written on the poor conspirator who died lately in +prison, after a confinement of more than forty years, without any +crime proved against him, the sentiment had been just and +pathetical; but why should Trumbull be congratulated upon his +liberty who had never known restraint?</p> +<p style="text-align: center">III.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On the Hon.</i> <span +class="smcap">Simon Harcourt</span>, <i>only son of the Lord +Chancellor</i> <span class="smcap">Harcourt</span>, <i>at the +Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire</i>, <i>1720</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> To this sad shrine, +whoe’er thou art, draw near,<br /> +Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear;<br /> +Who ne’er knew joy, but friendship might divide,<br /> +Or gave his father grief but when he died.<br /> + How vain is reason, eloquence how weak!<br /> +If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak.<br /> +Oh let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone,<br /> +And with a father’s sorrows mix his own!</p> +<p>This epitaph is principally remarkable for the artful +introduction of the name, which is inserted with a peculiar +felicity, to which chance must concur with genius, which no man +can hope to attain twice, and which cannot be copied but with +servile imitation. I cannot but wish that, of this +inscription, the two last lines had been omitted, as they take +away from the energy what they do not add to the sense.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">IV.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On</i> <span class="smcap">James +Craggs</span>, <i>Esq.</i>, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">JACOBVS CRAGS,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">REGI MAGNAE BRITANNIAE A +SECRETIS</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBVS,</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPVLI AMOR ET +DELICIAE:</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">VIXIT TITLIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ANNOS HEV PAVCOS, XXXV.</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX.</span></p> +<p class="poetry"> Statesman, yet friend to +truth; of soul sincere,<br /> +In action faithful, and in honour clear!<br /> +Who broke no premise, served no private end,<br /> +Who gained no title, and who lost no friend;<br /> +Ennobled by himself, by all approved,<br /> +Praised, wept, and honoured by the Muse he loved.</p> +<p>The lines on Craggs were not originally intended for an +epitaph; and therefore some faults are to be imputed to the +violence with which they are torn from the poems that first +contained them. We may, however, observe some +defects. There is a redundancy of words in the first +couplet: it is superfluous to tell of him, who was +<i>sincere</i>, <i>true</i>, and <i>faithful</i>, that he was +<i>in honour clear</i>. There seems to be an opposition +intended in the fourth line, which is not very obvious: where is +the relation between the two positions, that he <i>gained no +title</i> and <i>lest no friend</i>?</p> +<p>It may be proper here to remark the absurdity of joining in +the same inscription Latin and English or verse and prose. +If either language be preferable to the other, let that only be +used; for no reason can be given why part of the information +should be given in one tongue, and part in another on a tomb, +more than in any other place, or any other occasion; and to tell +all that can be conveniently told in verse, and then to call in +the help of prose, has always the appearance of a very artless +expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such an epitaph +resembles the conversation of a foreigner, who tells part of his +meaning by words, and conveys part by signs.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">V.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Intended for Mr.</i> <span +class="smcap">Rowe</span>, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Thy reliques, Rowe, to this +fair urn we trust,<br /> +And sacred, place by Dryden’s awful dust;<br /> +Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,<br /> +To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes.<br /> +Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!<br /> +Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest;<br /> +One grateful women to thy fame supplies<br /> +What a whole thankless land to his denies.</p> +<p>Of this inscription the chief fault is that it belongs less to +Rowe, for whom it was written, than to Dryden, who was buried +near him; and indeed gives very little information concerning +either.</p> +<p>To wish <i>peace to thy shade</i> is too mythological to be +admitted into a Christian temple: the ancient worship has +infected almost all our other compositions, and might therefore +be contented to spare our epitaphs. Let fiction, at least, +cease with life, and let us be serious over the grave.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">VI.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On Mrs.</i> <span +class="smcap">Corbet</span>, <i>who died of a Cancer in her +Breast</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Here rests a woman, good +without pretence,<br /> +Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense;<br /> +No conquest she, but o’er herself, desired;<br /> +No arts essayed, but not to be admired.<br /> +Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,<br /> +Convinced that Virtue only is our own.<br /> +So unaffected, so composed a mind,<br /> +So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined,<br /> +Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried;<br /> +The saint sustained it, but the woman died.</p> +<p>I have always considered this as the most valuable of all +Pope’s epitaphs; the subject of it is a character not +discriminated by any shining or eminent peculiarities; yet that +which really makes, though not the splendour, the felicity of +life, and that which every wise man will choose for his final and +lasting companion in the languor of age, in the quiet of privacy, +when he departs weary and disgusted from the ostentatious, the +volatile, and the vain. Of such a character, which the dull +overlook and the gay despise, it was fit that the value should be +made known and the dignity established. Domestic virtue, as +it is exerted without great occasions, or conspicuous +consequences, in an even unnoted tenor, required the genius of +Pope to display it in such a manner as might attract regard and +enforce reverence. Who can forbear to lament that this +amiable woman has no name in the verses? If the particular +lines of this inscription be examined, it will appear less faulty +than the rest. There is scarce one line taken from +commonplaces, unless it be that in which <i>only Virtue</i> is +said to be <i>our own</i>. I once heard a lady of great +beauty and excellence object to the fourth line that it contained +an unnatural and incredible panegyric. Of this let the +ladies judge.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">VII.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On the Monument of the Hon.</i> +<span class="smcap">Robert Digby</span>, <i>and of his Sister</i> +<span class="smcap">Mary</span>, <i>erected by their Father the +Lord</i> <span class="smcap">Digby</span> <i>in the church of +Sherborne in Dorsetshire</i>, 1727</p> +<p class="poetry"> Go! fair example of untainted +youth,<br /> +Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth:<br /> +Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate,<br /> +Good without noise, without pretension great<br /> +Just of thy word, in every thought sincere,<br /> +Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:<br /> +Of softest manners, unaffected mind,<br /> +Lover of peace, and friend of human kind:<br /> +Go, live! for heaven’s eternal year is thine,<br /> +Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine.<br /> + And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom.<br /> +Pensive hast followed to the silent tomb,<br /> +Steered the same course to the same quiet shore,<br /> +Not parted long, and now to part no more!<br /> +Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known!<br /> +Go, where to love and to enjoy are one!<br /> + Yet take these tears, Mortality’s relief,<br +/> +And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief:<br /> +These little rites a stone, a verse receive.<br /> +’Tis all a father, all a friend can give!</p> +<p>This epitaph contains of the brother only a general +indiscriminate character, and of the sister tells nothing but +that she died. The difficulty in writing epitaphs is to +give a particular and appropriate praise. This, however, is +not always to be performed, whatever be the diligence or ability +of the writer; for the greater part of mankind <i>have no +character at all</i>, have little that distinguishes them from +others, equally good or bad, and therefore nothing can be said of +them which may not be applied with equal propriety to a thousand +more. It is indeed no great panegyric that there is +enclosed in this tomb one who was born in one year, and died in +another; yet many useful and amiable lives have been spent which +yet leave little materials for any other memorial. These +are however not the proper subjects of poetry; and whenever +friendship, or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on such +subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in +generalities, and utters the same praises over different +tombs.</p> +<p>The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more +apparent than by remarking how often Pope has, in the few +epitaphs which he composed, found it necessary to borrow from +himself. The fourteen epitaphs which he has written +comprise about a hundred and forty lines, in which there are more +repetitions than will easily be found in all the rest of his +works. In the eight lines which make the character of Digby +there is scarce any thought or word which may not be found in the +other epitaphs. The ninth line, which is far the strongest +and most elegant, is borrowed from Dryden. The conclusion +is the same with that on Harcourt, but is here more elegant and +better connected.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">VIII.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On Sir</i> <span +class="smcap">Godfrey Kneller</span>, <i>in Westminster +Abbey</i>, 1723.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Kneller, by Heaven, and not a +master, taught,<br /> +Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures thought;<br /> +Now for two ages, having snatched from fate<br /> +Whate’er was beauteous, or whate’er was great,<br /> +Lies crowned with Princes, honours, Poets, lays,<br /> +Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.<br /> + Living, great Nature feared he might outvie<br /> +Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.</p> +<p>Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, +the third is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word crowned +not being applicable to the honours or the lays, and the fourth +is not only borrowed from the epitaph on Raphael, but of a very +harsh construction.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">IX.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On General</i> <span +class="smcap">Henry Withers</span>, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>, +1729.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Here, Withers, rest! thou +bravest, gentlest mind,<br /> +Thy country’s friend, but more of human kind.<br /> +O born to arms! O worth in youth approved!<br /> +O soft humanity in age beloved!<br /> +For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear,<br /> +And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere<br /> + Withers, adieu! yet not will thee remove<br /> +Thy martial spirit, or thy social love!<br /> +Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,<br /> +Still leave some ancient virtues to our age:<br /> +Nor let us say (those English glories gone)<br /> +The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.</p> +<p>The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of +commonplaces, though somewhat diversified by mingled qualities, +and the peculiarity of a profession. The second couplet is +abrupt, general, and unpleasing; exclamation seldom succeeds in +our language; and, I think, it may be observed that the particle +O! used at the beginning of a sentence, always offends. The +third couplet is more happy; the value expressed for him, by +different sorts of men, raises him to esteem; there is yet +something of the common cant of superficial satirists, who +suppose that the insincerity of a courtier destroys all his +sensations, and that he is equally a dissembler to the living and +the dead. At the third couplet I should wish the epitaph to +close, but that I should be unwilling to lose the two next lines, +which yet are dearly bought if they cannot be retained without +the four that follow them.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">X.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On Mr.</i> <span +class="smcap">Elijah Fenton</span>, <i>at Easthamstead in +Berkshire</i>, 1730.</p> +<p class="poetry"> This modest stone, what few +vain marbles can,<br /> +May truly say, Here lies an honest man:<br /> +A poet, blest beyond the poet’s fate,<br /> +Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great:<br /> +Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease,<br /> +Content with science in the vale of peace.<br /> +Calmly he looked on either life, and here<br /> +Saw nothing to regret or there to fear;<br /> +From Nature’s temperate feast rose satisfied,<br /> +Thanked Heaven that he lived, and that he died.</p> +<p>The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from +Crashaw. The four next lines contain a species of praise +peculiar, original, and just. Here, therefore, the +inscription should have ended, the latter part containing nothing +but what is common to every man who is wise and good. The +character of Fenton was so amiable, that I cannot forbear to wish +for some poet or biographer to display it more fully for the +advantage of posterity. If he did not stand in the first +rank of genius, he may claim a place in the second; and, whatever +criticism may object to his writings, censure could find very +little to blame in his life.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">XI.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On Mr.</i> <span +class="smcap">Gay</span>, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>, 1732.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Of manners gentle, of +affections mild;<br /> +In wit, a muse; simplicity, a child:<br /> +With native humour tempering virtuous rage,<br /> +Formed to delight at once and lash the age:<br /> +Above temptation, in a low estate,<br /> +And uncorrupted, ev’n among the Great:<br /> +A safe companion and an easy friend,<br /> +Unbiased through life, lamented in thy end,<br /> +These are thy honours! not that here thy bust<br /> +Is mixed with heroes, or with kings thy dust;<br /> +But that the worthy and the Good shall say,<br /> +Striking their pensive bosoms—Here lies <span +class="smcap">Gay</span>.</p> +<p>As Gay was the favourite of our author this epitaph was +probably written with an uncommon degree of attention, yet it is +not more successfully executed than the rest, for it will not +always happen that the success of a poet is proportionate to his +labour. The same observation may be extended to all works +of imagination, which are often influenced by causes wholly out +of the performer’s power, by hints of which he perceives +not the origin, by sudden elevations of mind which he cannot +produce in himself, and which sometimes rise when he expects them +least. The two parts of the first line are only echoes of +each other; <i>gentle manners</i> and <i>mild affections</i>, if +they mean anything, must mean the same.</p> +<p>That Gay was a <i>man in wit</i> is a very frigid +commendation; to have the wit of a man is not much for a +poet. The <i>wit of man</i> and the <i>simplicity of a +child</i> make a poor and vulgar contrast, and raise no ideas of +excellence, either intellectual or moral.</p> +<p>In the next couplet <i>rage</i> is less properly introduced +after the mention of <i>mildness</i> and <i>gentleness</i>, which +are made the constituents of his character; for a man so +<i>mild</i> and <i>gentle</i> to <i>temper</i> his <i>rage</i> +was not difficult. The next line is inharmonious in its +sound, and mean in its conception; the opposition is obvious, and +the word <i>lash</i> used absolutely, and without any +modification, is gross and improper. To be <i>above +temptation</i> in poverty and <i>free from corruption among the +Great</i> is indeed such a peculiarity as deserved notice. +But to be a <i>safe companion</i> is a praise merely negative, +arising not from possession of virtue but the absence of vice, +and that one of the most odious.</p> +<p>As little can be added to his character by asserting that he +was <i>lamented in his end</i>. Every man that dies is, at +least by the writer of his epitaph, supposed to be lamented, and +therefore this general lamentation does no honour to Gay.</p> +<p>The first eight lines have no grammar; the adjectives are +without any substantive, and the epithets without a +subject. The thought in the last line, that Gay is buried +in the bosoms of the <i>worthy</i> and <i>good</i>, who are +distinguished only to lengthen the line, is so dark that few +understand it, and so harsh, when it is explained, that still +fewer approve.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">XII.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Intended for Sir</i> <span +class="smcap">Isaac Newton</span>, <i>in Westminster +Abbey</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Isaacus Newtonius</span>:<br /> +Quem Immortalem<br /> +Testantur, <i>Tempus</i>, <i>Natura</i>, <i>Cœlum</i>:<br +/> +Mortalem hoc marmor fatetur.<br /> +Nature, and Nature’s laws, lay hid in night:<br /> +God said, <i>Let Newton be</i>! And all was light.</p> +<p>On this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be +very few. Why part should be Latin and part English it is +not easy to discover. In the Latin the opposition of +<i>Immortalis</i> and <i>Mortalis</i> is a mere sound, or a mere +quibble; he is not <i>immortal</i> in any sense contrary to that +in which he is <i>mortal</i>. In the verses the thought is +obvious, and the words <i>night</i> and <i>light</i> are too +nearly allied.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">XIII.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>On</i> <span +class="smcap">Edmund</span> <i>Duke of</i> <span +class="smcap">Buckingham</span>, <i>who died in the 19th Year of +his Age</i>, 1735.</p> +<p class="poetry"> If modest youth, with cool +reflection crowned,<br /> +And every opening virtue blooming round,<br /> +Could save a parent’s justest pride from fate,<br /> +Or add one patriot to a sinking state;<br /> +This weeping marble had not asked thy tear,<br /> +Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!<br /> +The living virtue now had shone approved,<br /> +The senate heard him, and his country loved.<br /> +Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame,<br /> +Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:<br /> +In whom a race, for courage famed and art,<br /> +Ends in the milder merit of the heart;<br /> +And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given,<br /> +Pays the last tribute of a saint to heaven.</p> +<p>This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest, but I know not +for what reason. To <i>crown</i> with <i>reflection</i> is +surely a mode of speech approaching to nonsense. <i>Opening +virtues blooming round</i> is something like tautology; the six +following lines are poor and prosaic. <i>Art</i> is in +another couplet used for <i>arts</i>, that a rhyme may be had to +<i>heart</i>. The six last lines are the best, but not +excellent.</p> +<p>The rest of his sepulchral performances hardly deserve the +notice of criticism. The contemptible dialogue between He +and She should have been suppressed for the author’s +sake.</p> +<p>In his last epitaph on himself, in which he attempts to be +jocular upon one of the few things that make wise men serious, he +confounds the living man with the dead:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Under this stone, or under this sill,<br +/> +Or under this turf, &c.”</p> +<p>When a man is once buried, the question, under what he is +buried, is easily decided. He forgot that though he wrote +the epitaph in a state of uncertainty, yet it could not be laid +over him till his grave was made. Such is the folly of wit +when it is ill employed.</p> +<p>The world has but little new, even this wretchedness seems to +have been borrowed from the following tuneless lines:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Ludovici Areosti humantur ossa<br /> +Sub hoc marmore, vel sub hac humo, seu<br /> +Sub quicquid voluit benignus hæres<br /> +Siv hærede benignior comes, seu<br /> +Opportunius incidens Viator:<br /> +Nam scire haud potuit futura, sed nec<br /> +Tanti erat vacuum sibi cadaver<br /> +Ut utnam cuperet parere vivens,<br /> +Vivens ista tamen sibi paravit.<br /> +Quæ inscribi voluit suo sepulchro<br /> +Olim siquod haberetis sepulchrum.”</p> +<p>Surely Ariosto did not venture to expect that his trifle would +have ever had such an illustrious imitator.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS: +PRIOR, CONGREVE, BLACKMORE AND POPE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5101-h.htm or 5101-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/0/5101 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore, Pope + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5101] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 26, 2002] +[Most recently updated: April 26, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell and Company edition by David +Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS: PRIOR, CONGREVE, BLACKMORE AND POPE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + +When, at the age of sixty-eight, Johnson was writing these "Lives of +the English Poets," he had caused omissions to be made from the +poems of Rochester, and was asked whether he would allow the +printers to give all the verse of Prior. Boswell quoted a censure +by Lord Hailes of "those impure tales which will be the eternal +opprobrium of their ingenious author." Johnson replied, "Sir, Lord +Hailes has forgot. There is nothing in Prior that will excite to +lewdness;" and when Boswell further urged, he put his questionings +aside, and added, "No, sir, Prior is a lady's book. No lady is +ashamed to have it standing in her library." Johnson distinguished +strongly, as every wise man does, between offence against +convention, and offence against morality. + +In Congreve's plays he recognised the wit but condemned the morals, +and in the case of Blackmore the regard for the religious purpose of +Blackmore's poem on "The Creation" gave to Johnson, as to Addison, +an undue sense of its literary value. + +With his "Life of Pope," which occupies more than two-thirds of this +volume, Johnson took especial pains. "He wrote it," says Boswell, +"'con amore,' both from the early possession which that writer had +taken of his mind, and from the pleasure which he must have felt in +for ever silencing all attempts to lessen his poetical fame. . . . I +remember once to have heard Johnson say, 'Sir, a thousand years may +elapse before there shall appear another man with a power of +versification equal to that of Pope.'" + +Pope's laurel, since Johnson's days, has flourished, without showing +a dead bough, for all the frosts of hostile criticism. + +H. M. + + + +PRIOR + + + +Matthew Prior is one of those that have burst out from an obscure +original to great eminence. He was born July 21, 1664, according to +some, at Wimborne, in Dorsetshire, of I know not what parents; +others say that he was the son of a joiner of London: he was +perhaps willing enough to leave his birth unsettled, in hope, like +Don Quixote, that the historian of his actions might find him some +illustrious alliance. He is supposed to have fallen, by his +father's death, into the hands of his uncle, a vintner near Charing +Cross, who sent him for some time to Dr. Busby, at Westminster; but, +not intending to give him any education beyond that of the school, +took him, when he was well advanced in literature, to his own house, +where the Earl of Dorset, celebrated for patronage of genius, found +him by chance, as Burnet relates, reading Horace, and was so well +pleased with his proficiency, that he undertook the care and cost of +his academical education. He entered his name in St. John's +College, at Cambridge, in 1682, in his eighteenth year; and it may +be reasonably supposed that he was distinguished among his +contemporaries. He became a Bachelor, as is usual, in four years, +and two years afterwards wrote the poem on the Deity, which stands +first in his volume. + +It is the established practice of that College to send every year to +the Earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred subjects, in +acknowledgment of a benefaction enjoyed by them from the bounty of +his ancestor. On this occasion were those verses written, which, +though nothing is said of their success, seem to have recommended +him to some notice; for his praise of the countess's music, and his +lines on the famous picture of Seneca, afford reason for imagining +that he was more or less conversant with that family. + +The same year he published "The City Mouse and Country Mouse," to +ridicule Dryden's "Hind and Panther," in conjunction with Mr. +Montague. There is a story of great pain suffered, and of tears +shed, on this occasion by Dryden, who thought it hard that "an old +man should be so treated by those to whom he had always been civil." +By tales like these is the envy raised by superior abilities every +day gratified. When they are attacked every one hopes to see them +humbled; what is hoped is readily believed, and what is believed is +confidently told. Dryden had been more accustomed to hostilities +than that such enemies should break his quiet; and, if we can +suppose him vexed, it would be hard to deny him sense enough to +conceal his uneasiness. + +"The City Mouse and Country Mouse" procured its authors more solid +advantages than the pleasure of fretting Dryden, for they were both +speedily preferred. Montague, indeed, obtained the first notice +with some degree of discontent, as it seems, in Prior, who probably +knew that his own part of the performance was the best. He had not, +however, much reason to complain, for he came to London and obtained +such notice that (in 1691) he was sent to the Congress at the Hague +as secretary to the embassy. In this assembly of princes and +nobles, to which Europe has perhaps scarcely seen anything equal, +was formed the grand alliance against Louis, which at last did not +produce effects proportionate so the magnificence of the +transaction. + +The conduct of Prior, in this splendid initiation into public +business, was so pleasing to King William, that he made him one of +the gentlemen of his bedchamber; and he is supposed to have passed +some of the next years in the quiet cultivation of literature and +poetry. + +The death of Queen Mary (in 1695) produced a subject for all the +writers--perhaps no funeral was ever so poetically attended. +Dryden, indeed, as a man discountenanced and deprived, was silent; +but scarcely any other maker of verses omitted to bring his tribute +of tuneful sorrow. An emulation of elegy was universal. Mary's +praise was not confined to the English language, but fills a great +part of the Musae Anglicanae. + +Prior, who was both a poet and a courtier, was too diligent to miss +this opportunity of respect. He wrote a long ode, which was +presented to the king, by whom it was not likely to be ever read. +In two years he was secretary to another embassy at the Treaty of +Ryswick (in 1697), and next year had the same office at the court of +France, where he is said to have been considered with great +distinction. As he was one day surveying the apartments at +Versailles, being shown the "Victories of Louis," painted by Le +Brun, and asked whether the King of England's palace had any such +decorations: "The monuments of my master's actions," said he, "are +to be seen everywhere but in his own house." + +The pictures of Le Brun are not only in themselves sufficiently +ostentatious, but were explained by inscriptions so arrogant, that +Boileau and Racine thought it necessary to make them more simple. +He was in the following year at Leo with the king, from whom, after +a long audience, he carried orders to England, and upon his arrival +became Under Secretary of State in the Earl of Jersey's office, a +post which he did not retain long, because Jersey was removed, but +he was soon made Commissioner of Trade. + +This year (1700) produced one of his longest and most splendid +compositions, the "Carmen Seculare," in which he exhausts all his +powers of celebration. I mean not to accuse him of flattery; he +probably thought all that he writ, and retained as much veracity as +can be properly exacted from a poet professedly encomiastic. King +William supplied copious materials for either verse or prose. His +whole life had been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent +qualities of steady resolution and personal courage. He was really +in Prior's mind what he represents him in his verses; he considered +him as a hero, and was accustomed to say that he praised others in +compliance with the fashion, but that in celebrating King William he +followed his inclination. To Prior, gratitude would dictate praise, +which reason would not refuse. + +Among the advantages to arise from the future years of William's +reign, he mentions a Society for Useful Arts, and among them:- + + +"Some that with care true eloquence shall teach, +And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech; +That from our writers distant realms may know + The thanks we to our monarchs owe, +And schools profess our tongue through every land +That has invoked his aid, or blessed his hand." + + +Tickell, in his "Prospect of Peace," has the same hope of a new +academy:- + + +"In happy chains our daring language bound, +Shall sport no more in arbitrary sound." + + +Whether the similitude of those passages, which exhibit the same +thought on the same occasion, proceeded from accident or imitation, +is not easy to determine. Tickell might have been impressed with +his expectation by Swift's "Proposal for Ascertaining the English +Language," then lately published. + +In the Parliament that met in 1701 he was chosen representative of +East Grinstead. Perhaps it was about this time that he changed his +party, for he voted for the impeachment of those lords who had +persuaded the king to the Partition Treaty, a treaty in which he +himself had been ministerially employed. + +A great part of Queen Anne's reign was a time of war, in which there +was little employment for negotiators, and Prior had, therefore, +leisure to make or to polish verses. When the Battle of Blenheim +called forth all the verse-men, Prior, among the rest, took care to +show his delight in the increasing honour of his country by an +epistle to Boileau. He published, soon afterwards, a volume of +poems, with the encomiastic character of his deceased patron, the +Earl of Dorset. It began with the College exercise, and ended with +the "Nutbrown Maid." + +The Battle of Ramillies soon afterwards (in 1706) excited him to +another effort of poetry. On this occasion he had fewer or less +formidable rivals, and it would be not easy to name any other +composition produced by that event which is now remembered. + +Everything has its day. Through the reigns of William and Anne no +prosperous event passed undignified by poetry. In the last war, +when France was disgraced and overpowered in every quarter of the +globe, when Spain, coming to her assistance, only shared her +calamities, and the name of an Englishman was reverenced through +Europe, no poet was heard amidst the general acclamation; the fame +of our counsellors and heroes was entrusted to the Gazetteer. The +nation in time grew weary of the war, and the queen grew weary of +her ministers. The war was burdensome, and the ministers were +insolent. Harley and his friends began to hope that they might, by +driving the Whigs from court and from power, gratify at once the +queen and the people. There was now a call for writers, who might +convey intelligence of past abuses, and show the waste of public +money, the unreasonable conduct of the allies, the avarice of +generals, the tyranny of minions, and the general danger of +approaching ruin. For this purpose a paper called the Examiner was +periodically published, written, as it happened, by any wit of the +party, and sometimes, as is said, by Mrs. Manley. Some are owned by +Swift; and one, in ridicule of Garth's verses to Godolphin upon the +loss of his place, was written by Prior, and answered by Addison, +who appears to have known the author either by conjecture or +intelligence. + +The Tories, who were now in power, were in haste to end the war, and +Prior, being recalled (1710) to his former employment of making +treaties, was sent (July, 1711) privately to Paris with propositions +of peace. He was remembered at the French court; and, returning in +about a month, brought with him the Abbe Gaultier and M. Mesnager, a +minister from France, invested with full powers. This transaction +not being avowed, Mackay, the master of the Dover packet-boat, +either zealously or officiously, seized Prior and his associates at +Canterbury. It is easily supposed they were soon released. + +The negotiation was begun at Prior's house, where the queen's +ministers met Mesnager (September 20, 1711), and entered privately +upon the great business. The importance of Prior appears from the +mention made of him by St. John in his letter to the queen:- + +"My Lord Treasurer moved, and all my Lords were of the same opinion, +that Mr. Prior should be added to those who are empowered to sign; +the reason for which is because he, having personally treated with +Monsieur de Torcy, is the best witness we can produce of the sense +in which the general preliminary engagements are entered into; +besides which, as he is the best versed in matters of trade of all +your Majesty's servants who have been trusted in this secret, if you +shall think fit to employ him in the future treaty of commerce, it +will be of consequence that he has been a party concerned in +concluding that convention, which must be the rule of this treaty." + +The assembly of this important night was in some degree clandestine, +the design of treaty not being yet openly declared and when the +Whigs returned to power was aggravated to a charge of high treason; +though, as Prior remarks in his imperfect answer to the Report of +the Committee of Secrecy, no treaty ever was made without private +interviews and preliminary discussions. + +My business is not the history of the peace, but the life of Prior. +The conferences began at Utrecht on the 1st of January (1711-12), +and the English plenipotentiaries arrived on the 15th. The +ministers of the different potentates conferred and conferred; but +the peace advanced so slowly that speedier methods were found +necessary, and Bolingbroke was sent to Paris to adjust differences +with less formality. Prior either accompanied him or followed him, +and after his departure had the appointments and authority of an +ambassador, though no public character. By some mistake of the +queen's orders the court of France had been disgusted, and +Bolingbroke says in his letter, "Dear Mat,--Hide the nakedness of +thy country, and give the best turn thy fertile brain will furnish +thee with to the blunders of thy countrymen, who are not much better +politicians than the French are poets." + +Soon after, the Duke of Shrewsbury went on a formal embassy to +Paris. It is related by Boyer that the intention was to have joined +Prior in the commission, but that Shrewsbury refused to be +associated with a man so meanly born. Prior therefore continued to +act without a title till the duke returned next year to England, and +then he assumed the style and dignity of ambassador. But while he +continued in appearance a private man, he was treated with +confidence by Louis, who sent him with a letter to the queen, +written in favour of the Elector of Bavaria. "I shall expect," says +he, "with impatience, the return of Mr. Prior, whose conduct is very +agreeable to me." And while the Duke of Shrewsbury was still at +Paris, Bolingbroke wrote to Prior thus:- "Monsieur de Torcy has a +confidence in you; make use of it, once for all, upon this occasion, +and convince him thoroughly that we must give a different turn to +our Parliament and our people according to their resolution at this +crisis." + +Prior's public dignity and splendour commenced in August, 1713, and +continued till the August following; but I am afraid that, according +to the usual fate of greatness, it was attended with some +perplexities and mortifications. He had not all that is customarily +given to ambassadors: he hints to the queen in an imperfect poem +that he had no service of plate; and it appeared by the debts which +he contracted that his remittances were not punctually made. + +On the 1st of August, 1714, ensued the downfall of the Tories and +the degradation of Prior. He was recalled, but was not able to +return, being detained by the debts which he had found it necessary +to contract, and which were not discharged before March, though his +old friend Montague was now at the head of the Treasury. He +returned, then, as soon as he could, and was welcomed on the 25th of +March by a warrant, but was, however, suffered to live in his own +house, under the custody of the messenger, till he was examined +before a committee of the Privy Council, of which Mr. Walpole was +chairman, and Lord Coningsby, Mr. Stanhope, and Mr. Lechmere were +the principal interrogators, who, in this examination, of which +there is printed an account not unentertaining, behaved with the +boisterousness of men elated by recent authority. They are +represented as asking questions sometimes vague, sometimes +insidious, and writing answers different from those which they +received. Prior, however, seems to have been overpowered by their +turbulence; for he confesses that he signed what, if he had ever +come before a legal judicature, he should have contradicted or +explained away. The oath was administered by Boscawen, a Middlesex +justice, who at last was going to write his attestation on the wrong +side of the paper. They were very industrious to find some charge +against Oxford, and asked Prior, with great earnestness, who was +present when the preliminary articles were talked of or signed at +his house? He told them that either the Earl of Oxford or the Duke +of Shrewsbury was absent, but he could not remember which, an answer +which perplexed them, because it supplied no accusation against +either. "Could anything be more absurd," says he, "or more inhuman, +than to propose to me a question, by the answering of which I might, +according to them, prove myself a traitor? And notwithstanding +their solemn promise that nothing which I should say should hurt +myself, I had no reason to trust them, for they violated that +promise about five hours after. However, I owned I was there +present. Whether this was wisely done or no I leave to my friends +to determine." When he had signed the paper, he was told by Walpole +that the committee were not satisfied with his behaviour, nor could +give such an account of it to the Commons as might merit favour; and +that they now thought a stricter confinement necessary than to his +own house. "Here," says he, "Boscawen played the moralist, and +Coningsby the Christian, but both very awkwardly." The messenger, +in whose custody he was to be placed, was then called, and very +indecently asked by Coningsby "if his house was secured by bars and +bolts." The messenger answered, "No," with astonishment. At which +Coningsby very angrily said, "Sir, you must secure this prisoner; it +is for the safety of the nation: if he escape, you shall answer for +it." + +They had already printed their report; and in this examination were +endeavouring to find proofs. + +He continued thus confined for some time; and Mr. Walpole (June 10, +1715) moved for an impeachment against him. What made him so +acrimonious does not appear; he was by nature no thirster for blood. +Prior was a week after committed to close custody, with orders that +"no person should be admitted to see him without leave from the +Speaker." When, two years after, an Act of Grace was passed, he was +excepted, and continued still in custody, which he had made less +tedious by writing his "Alma." He was, however, soon after +discharged. He had now his liberty, but he had nothing else. +Whatever the profit of his employments might have been, he had +always spent it; and at the age of fifty-three was, with all his +abilities, in danger of penury, having yet no solid revenue but from +the fellowship of his college, which, when in his exaltation he was +censured for retaining it, he said he could live upon at last. +Being, however, generally known and esteemed, he was encouraged to +add other poems to those which he had printed, and to publish them +by subscription. The expedient succeeded by the industry of many +friends, who circulated the proposals, and the care of some who, it +is said, withheld the money from him lest he should squander it. +The price of the volume was two guineas; the whole collection was +four thousand; to which Lord Harley, the son of the Earl of Oxford, +to whom he had invariably adhered, added an equal sum for the +purchase of Down Hall, which Prior was to enjoy during life, and +Harley after his decease. He had now, what wits and philosophers +have often wished, the power of passing the day in contemplative +tranquillity. But it seems that busy men seldom live long in a +state of quiet. It is not unlikely that his health declined, he +complains of deafness; "for," says he, "I took little care of my +ears while I was not sure if my head was my own." + +Of any occurrences of his remaining life I have found no account. +In a letter to Swift, "I have," says he, "treated Lady Harriet, at +Cambridge (a Fellow of a College treat!) and spoke verses to her in +a gown and cap! What, the plenipotentiary, so far concerned in the +damned peace at Utrecht; the man that makes up half the volume of +terse prose, that makes up the report of the committee, speaking +verses! Sic est, homo sum." + +He died at Wimpole, a seat of the Earl of Oxford, on the 18th of +September, 1721, and was buried in Westminster; where on a monument, +for which, as the "last piece of human vanity," he left five hundred +pounds, is engraven this epitaph:- + + +Sui Temporis Historiam meditanti, +Paulatim obrepens Febris +Operi simul et Vitae filum abrupit, +Sept. 18. An. Dom. 1721. AEtat. 57. +H.S.E. +Vir Eximius Serenissimis +Regi GULIELMO Reginaeque MARIAE +In Congressione Foederatorum +Hagae anno 1690 celebrata, +Deinde Magnae Britanniae Legatis +Tum iis, +Qui anno 1697 Pacem RYSWICKI confecerunt, +Tum iis, +Qui apud Gallos annie proximis Legationem obierunt +Eodem etiani anno 1657 in Hibernia +SECRETARIUS; +Necnon in utroque Honorabili consessu +Eorum, +Qui anno 1700 ordinandis Commercii negotiis, +Quique anno 1711 dirigendis Portorii rebus, +Praeidebant, +COMMISSIONARIUS; +Postremo ab ANNA, +Felicissimae memoriae Regina, +Ad LUDOVICUM XIV. Galliae Regem +Missus anno 1711 +De Pace stabilienda +(Pace etiam num durante +Diuque ut boni jam omnes sperant duratura), +Cum sunma potestate Legatus; +MATTHAES PRIOR Armiger +Qui +Hos omnes, quibus cumulates est, Titulos +Humanitatis, Ingenii, Ereditionis laude +Superavit; +Cui enim nascenti faciles arriserant Mesae. +Hunc Puerum Schola hic Regia perpolivit; +Jevenem in Collegio S'ti Johannis +Cantabrigia optimis Scientiis instruxit; +Virum denique auxit, et perfecit, +Multa cum viris Principibus censuetudo; +Ita natus, ita institutus, +A Vatam Choro avelli numquam potuit, +Sed solebat saepe rerum civilium gravitatem +Amoeniorum Literarum Studiis condire: +Et cum omne adeo Poetices genus +Haud infeliciter tentaret, +Tum in Fabellis concinne lepideque texendis +Mirus Artifex +Neminem habuit parem. +Haec liberalis animi oblectamenta: +Quam nullo illi labore constiterint, +Facile ii perspexere, quibus usus est Amici; +Apud quos Urbanitatem et Leporum plenus +Cum ad rem, quaecunque forte inciderat, +Apte varie copioseque alluderet, +Interea nihil quaesitum, nihil vi expressum +Videbatur, +Sed omnia ultro effluere, +Et quasi jugi e foote affatim exuberare, +Ita suos tandem dubios reliquit, +Essetne in Scriptis, Poeta Elegantior, +An in Convictu, Comes Jocundior. + + +Of Prior, eminent as he was, both by his abilities and station, very +few memorials have been left by his contemporaries; the account, +therefore, must now be destitute of his private character and +familiar practices. He lived at a time when the rage of party +detected all which it was any man's interest to hide; and, as little +ill is heard of Prior, it is certain that not much was known. He +was not afraid of provoking censure; for when he forsook the Whigs, +under whose patronage he first entered the world, he became a Tory +so ardent and determinate. that he did not willingly consort with +men of different opinions. He was one of the sixteen Tories who met +weekly, and agreed to address each other by the title of Brother; +and seems to have adhered, not only by concurrence of political +designs, but by peculiar affection, to the Earl of Oxford and his +family. With how much confidence he was trusted has been already +told. + +He was, however, in Pope's opinion, fit only to make verses, and +less qualified for business than Addison himself. This was surely +said without consideration. Addison, exalted to a high place, was +forced into degradation by the sense of his own incapacity; Prior, +who was employed by men very capable of estimating his value, having +been secretary to one embassy, had, when great abilities were again +wanted, the same office another time; and was, after so much +experience of his own knowledge and dexterity, at last sent to +transact a negotiation in the highest degree arduous and important, +for which he was qualified, among other requisites, in the opinion +of Bolingbroke, by his influence upon the French minister, and by +skill in questions of commerce above other men. + +Of his behaviour in the lighter parts of life, it is too late to get +much intelligence. One of his answers to a boastful Frenchman has +been related; and to an impertinent he made another equally proper. +During his embassy he sat at the opera by a man who, in his rapture, +accompanied with his own voice the principal singer. + +Prior fell to railing at the performer with all the terms of +reproach that he could collect, till the Frenchman, ceasing from his +song, began to expostulate with him for his harsh censure of a man +who was confessedly the ornament of the stage. "I know all that," +says the ambassador, "mais il chante si haut, que je ne scaurois +vous entendre." + +In a gay French company, where every one sang a little song or +stanza, of which the burden was "Bannissons la Melancolie," when it +came to his turn to sing, after the performance of a young lady that +sat next him, he produced these extemporary lines + + +"Mais cette voix, et ces beaux yeux, +Font Cupidon trop dangereux, +Et je suis triste quand je crie +Bannissons la Melancolie." + + +Tradition represents him as willing to descend from the dignity of +the poet and statesman to the low delights of mean company. His +Chloe probably was sometimes ideal: but the woman with whom he +cohabited was a despicable drab of the lowest species. One of his +wenches, perhaps Chloe, while he was absent from his house, stole +his plate and ran away, as was related by a woman who had been his +servant. Of his propensity to sordid converse, I have seen an +account so seriously ridiculous, that it seems to deserve insertion. + +"I have been assured that Prior, after having spent the evening with +Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift, would go and smoke a pipe and +drink a bottle of ale with a common soldier and his wife in Long +Acre before he went to bed, not from any remains of the lowness of +his original, as one said, but I suppose that his faculties - + + +"'--strained to the height, +In that celestial colloquy sublime, +Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repair.'" + + +Poor Prior; why was he so STRAINED, and in such WANT OF REPAIR, +after a conversation with men not, in the opinion of the world, much +wiser than himself? But such are the conceits of speculatists, who +STRAIN their FACULTIES to find in a mine what lies upon the surface. +His opinions, so far as the means of judging are left us, seem to +have been right; but his life was, it seems, irregular, negligent, +and sensual. + + +Prior has written with great variety, and his variety has made him +popular. He has tried all styles, from the grotesque to the solemn, +and has not so failed in any as to incur derision or disgrace. His +works may be distinctly considered as comprising Tales, Love Verses, +Occasional Poems, "Alma," and "Solomon." + +His tales have obtained general approbation, being written with +great familiarity and great sprightliness; the language is easy, but +seldom gross, and the numbers smooth, without appearance of care. +Of these tales there are only four: "The Ladle," which is +introduced by a preface, neither necessary nor pleasing, neither +grave nor merry. "Paulo Purganti," which has likewise a preface, +but of more value than the tale. "Hans Carvel," not over-decent; +and "Protogenes and Apelles," an old story mingled, by an +affectation not disagreeable, with modern images. "The Young +Gentleman in Love" has hardly a just claim to the title of a tale. +I know not whether he be the original author of any tale which he +has given us. The adventure of Hans Carvel has passed through many +successions of merry wits, for it is to be found in Ariosto's +"Satires," and is perhaps yet older. But the merit of such stories +is the art of telling them. + +In his amorous effusions he is less happy; for they are not dictated +by nature or by passion, and have neither gallantry nor tenderness. +They have the coldness of Cowley, without his wit, the dull +exercises of a skilful versifier, resolved at all adventures to +write something about Chloe, and trying to be amorous by dint of +study. His fictions, therefore, are mythological. Venus, after the +example of the Greek epigram, asks when she was seen NAKED AND +BATHING. Then Cupid is MISTAKEN; then Cupid is DISARMED; then he +loses his darts to Ganymede; then Jupiter sends him a summons by +Mercury. Then Chloe goes a-hunting with an IVORY QUIVER GRACEFUL AT +HER SIDE; Diana mistakes her for one of her nymphs, and Cupid laughs +at the blunder. All this is surely despicable; and even when he +tries to act the lover without the help of gods or goddesses, his +thoughts are unaffecting or remote. He talks not "like a man of +this world." + +The greatest of all his amorous essays is "Henry and Emma," a dull +and tedious dialogue, which excites neither esteem for the man nor +tenderness for the woman. The example of Emma, who resolves to +follow an outlawed murderer wherever fear and guilt shall drive him, +deserves no imitation; and the experiment by which Henry tries the +lady's constancy is such as must end either in infamy to her or in +disappointment to himself. + +His occasional poems necessarily lost part of their value, as their +occasions, being less remembered, raised less emotion, Some of them, +however, are preserved by their inherent excellence. The burlesque +of Boileau's ode on Namur has in some parts such airiness and levity +as will always procure it readers, even among those who cannot +compare it with the original. The epistle to Boileau is not so +happy. The "Poems to the King," are now perused only by young +students, who read merely that they may learn to write; and of the +"Carmen Seculare," I cannot but suspect that I might praise or +censure it by caprice without danger of detection; for who can be +supposed to have laboured through it? Yet the time has been when +this neglected work was so popular that it was translated into Latin +by no common master. + +His poem on the Battle of Ramillies is necessarily tedious by the +form of the stanza. An uniform mass of ten lines thirty-five times +repeated, inconsequential and slightly connected, must weary both +the ear and the understanding. His imitation of Spenser, which +consists principally in _I_ WEEN and _I_ WEET, without exclusion of +later modes of speech, makes his poem neither ancient nor modern. +His mention of Mars and Bellona, and his comparison of Marlborough +to the eagle that bears the thunder of Jupiter, are all puerile and +unaffecting; and yet more despicable is the long tale told by Louis +in his despair of Brute and Troynovante, and the teeth of Cadmus, +with his similes of the raven and eagle and wolf and lion. By the +help of such easy fictions and vulgar topics, without acquaintance +with life, and without knowledge of art or nature, a poem of any +length, cold and lifeless like this, may be easily written on any +subject. + +In his epilogues to Phaedra and to Lucius he is very happily +facetious; but in the prologue before the queen the pedant has found +his way with Minerva, Perseus, and Andromeda. + +His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others, sometimes +elegant, sometimes trifling, and sometimes dull; among the best are +the "Chamelion" and the epitaph on John and Joan. + +Scarcely any one of our poets has written so much and translated so +little: the version of Callimachus is sufficiently licentious; the +paraphrase on St. Paul's Exhortation to Charity is eminently +beautiful. + +"Alma" is written in professed imitation of "Hudibras," and has at +least one accidental resemblance: "Hudibras" wants a plan because +it is left imperfect; "Alma" is imperfect because it seems never to +have had a plan. Prior appears not to have proposed to himself any +drift or design, but to have written the casual dictates of the +present moment. + +What Horace said when he imitated Lucilius, might be said of Butler +by Prior; his numbers were not smooth nor neat. Prior excelled him +in versification; but he was, like Horace, inventore minor; he had +not Butler's exuberance of matter and variety of illustration. The +spangles of wit which he could afford he knew how to polish; but he +wanted the bullion of his master. Butler pours out a negligent +profusion, certain of the weight, but careless of the stamp. Prior +has comparatively little, but with that little he makes a fine show. +"Alma" has many admirers, and was the only piece among Prior's works +of which Pope said that he should wish to be the author. + +"Solomon" is the work to which he entrusted the protection of his +name, and which he expected succeeding ages to regard with +veneration. His affection was natural; it had undoubtedly been +written with great labour; and who is willing to think that he has +been labouring in vain? He had infused into it much knowledge and +much thought; had often polished it to elegance, often dignified it +with splendour, and sometimes heightened it to sublimity: he +perceived in it many excellences, and did not discover that it +wanted that without which all others are of small avail--the power +of engaging attention and alluring curiosity. + +Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negligence or errors +are single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole; other +faults are censured and forgotten, but the power of tediousness +propagates itself. He that is weary the first hour is more weary +the second, as bodies forced into motion, contrary to their +tendency, pass more and more slowly through every successive +interval of space. Unhappily this pernicious failure is that which +an author is least able to discover. We are seldom tiresome to +ourselves; and the act of composition fills and delights the mind +with change of language and succession of images. Every couplet, +when produced, is new, and novelty is the great source of pleasure. +Perhaps no man ever thought a line superfluous when he first wrote +it, or contracted his work till his ebullitions of invention had +subsided. And even if he should control his desire of immediate +renown, and keep his work NINE YEARS unpublished, he will be still +the author, and still in danger of deceiving himself: and if he +consults his friends he will probably find men who have more +kindness than judgment, or more fear to offend than desire to +instruct. The tediousness of this poem proceeds not from the +uniformity of the subject, for it is sufficiently diversified, but +from the continued tenor of the narration; in which Solomon relates +the successive vicissitudes of his own mind without the intervention +of any other speaker or the mention of any other agent, unless it be +Abra; the reader is only to learn what he thought, and to be told +that he thought wrong. The event of every experiment is foreseen, +and therefore the process is not much regarded. Yet the work is far +from deserving to be neglected. He that shall peruse it will be +able to mark many passages to which he may recur for instruction or +delight; many from which the poet may learn to write and the +philosopher to reason. + +If Prior's poetry be generally considered, his praise will be that +of correctness and industry, rather than of compass of comprehension +or activity of fancy. He never made any effort of invention: his +greater pieces are only tissues of common thoughts; and his smaller, +which consist of light images or single conceits, are not always his +own. I have traced him among the French epigrammatists, and have +been informed that he poached for prey among obscure authors. The +"Thief and Cordelier" is, I suppose, generally considered as an +original production, with how much justice this epigram may tell, +which was written by Georgius Sabinus, a poet now little known or +read, though once the friend of Luther and Melancthon:- + + + "De Sacerdote Furem consolante. +"Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus euntem + Huc ubi dat sontes carnificina neci. +Ne sis moestus, ait; summi conviva Tonantis + Jam cum coelitibus (si modo credis) eris. +Ille gemens, si vera mihi solatia praebes, + Hospes apud superos sis meus oro, refert. +Sacrificus contra; mihi non convivia fas est + Ducere, jejunas hac edo luce nihil." + + +What he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his judgment. His +diligence has justly placed him amongst the most correct of the +English poets; and he was one of the first that resolutely +endeavoured at correctness. He never sacrifices accuracy to haste, +nor indulges himself in contemptuous negligence, or impatient +idleness; he has no careless lines, or entangled sentiments; his +words are nicely selected, and his thoughts fully expanded. If this +part of his character suffers an abatement, it must be from the +disproportion of his rhymes, which have not always sufficient +consonance, and from the admission of broken lines into his +"Solomon;" but perhaps he thought, like Cowley, that hemistichs +ought to be admitted into heroic poetry. + +He had apparently such rectitude of judgment as secured him from +everything that approached to the ridiculous or absurd; but as law +operates in civil agency, not to the excitement of virtue, but the +repression of wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect +can hinder faults, but not produce excellence. Prior is never low, +nor very often sublime. It is said by Longinus of Euripides, that +he forces himself sometimes into grandeur by violence of effort, as +the lion kindles his fury by the lashes of his own tail. Whatever +Prior obtains above mediocrity seems the effort of struggle and of +toil. He has many vigorous, but few happy lines; he has everything +by purchase, and nothing by gift; he had no NIGHTLY VISITATIONS of +the Muse, no infusions of sentiment or felicities of fancy. His +diction, however, is more his own than of any among the successors +of Dryden; he borrows no lucky turns, or commodious modes of +language, from his predecessors. His phrases are original, but they +are sometimes harsh; as he inherited no elegances, none has he +bequeathed. His expression has every mark of laborious study, the +line seldom seems to have been formed at once; the words did not +come till they were called, and were then put by constraint into +their places, where they do their duty, but do it sullenly. In his +greater compositions there may be found more rigid stateliness than +graceful dignity. + +Of versification he was not negligent. What he received from Dryden +he did not lose; neither did he increase the difficulty of writing +by unnecessary severity, but uses triplets and alexandrines without +scruple. In his preface to "Solomon" he proposes some improvements +by extending the sense from one couplet to another with variety of +pauses. This he has attempted, but without success; his interrupted +lines are unpleasing, and his sense, as less distinct, is less +striking. He has altered the stanza of Spenser as a house is +altered by building another in its place of a different form. With +how little resemblance he has formed his new stanza to that of his +master these specimens will show:- + + +SPENSER. + + "She flying fast from Heaven's fated face, +And from the world that her discovered wide, +Fled to the wasteful wilderness space, +From living eyes her open shame to hide, +And lurked in rocks and caves long unespied. +But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair, +Did in that castle afterwards abide, +To rest themselves, and weary powers repair, +Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare?" + + +PRIOR. + + "To the close rock the frightened raven flies, +Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air; +The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies, +When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near. +Ill-starred did we our forts and lines forsake, +To dare our British foes to open fight: +Our conquest we by stratagem should make; +Our triumph had been founded in our flight. +'Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain; +'Tis theirs to meet in arms, and battle in the plain." + + +By this new structure of his lines he has avoided difficulties; nor +am I sure that he has lost any of the power of pleasing, but he no +longer imitates Spencer. Some of his poems are written without +regularity of measures; for, when he commenced poet, he had not +recovered from our Pindaric infatuation; but he probably lived to be +convinced that the essence of verse is order and consonance. His +numbers are such as mere diligence may attain; they seldom offend +the ear, and seldom soothe it; they commonly want airiness, +lightness, and facility. What is smooth is not soft. His verses +always roll, but they seldom flow. + +A survey of the life and writings of Prior may exemplify a sentence +which he doubtless understood well when he read Horace at his +uncle's, "The vessel long retains the scent which it first +receives." In his private relaxation he revived the tavern, and in +his amorous pedantry he exhibited the college. But on higher +occasions and nobler subjects, when habit was overpowered by the +necessity of reflection, he wanted not wisdom as a statesman, or +elegance as a poet. + + + +CONGREVE + + + +William Congreve descended from a family in Staffordshire of so +great antiquity, that it claims a place among the few that extend +their hue beyond the Norman Conquest, and was the son of William +Congreve, second son of Richard Congreve, of Congreve and Stratton. +He visited, once at least, the residence of his ancestors; and, I +believe, more places than one are still shown in groves and gardens, +where he is related to have written his Old Bachelor. + +Neither the time nor place of his birth is certainly known. If the +inscription upon his monument be true, he was born in 1672. For the +place, it was said by himself that he owed his nativity to England, +and by everybody else that he was born in Ireland. Southern +mentioned him with sharp censure as a man that meanly disowned his +native country. The biographers assigned his nativity to Bardsa, +near Leeds, in Yorkshire, from the account given by himself, as they +suppose, to Jacob. To doubt whether a man of eminence has told the +truth about his own birth is, in appearance, to be very deficient in +candour; yet nobody can live long without knowing that falsehoods of +convenience or vanity, falsehoods from which no evil immediately +visible ensues, except the general degradation of human testimony, +are very lightly uttered, and once uttered are sullenly supported. +Boileau, who desired to be thought a rigorous and steady moralist, +having told a pretty lie to Louis XIV., continued it afterwards by +false dates; thinking himself obliged IN HONOUR, says his admirer, +to maintain what, when he said it, was so well received. [Congreve +was baptised at Bardsey, February 10, 1670.] + +Wherever Congreve was born, he was educated first at Kilkenny, and +afterwards at Dublin, his father having some military employment +that stationed him in Ireland; but after having passed through the +usual preparatory studies, as may be reasonably supposed, with great +celerity and success, his father thought it proper to assign him a +profession, by which something might be gotten, and about the time +of the Revolution sent him, at the age of sixteen, to study law in +the Middle Temple, where he lived for several years, but with very +little attention to statutes or reports. His disposition to become +an author appeared very early, as he very early felt that force of +imagination, and possessed that copiousness of sentiment, by which +intellectual pleasure can be given. His first performance was a +novel called "Incognita; or, Love and Duty Reconciled;" it is +praised by the biographers, who quote some part of the preface, that +is, indeed, for such a time of life, uncommonly judicious. I would +rather praise it than read it. + +His first dramatic labour was The Old Bachelor, of which he says, in +his defence against Collier, "That comedy was written, as several +know, some years before it was acted. When I wrote it I had little +thoughts of the stage; but did it to amuse myself in a slow recovery +from a fit of sickness. Afterwards, through my indiscretion it was +seen, and in some little time more it was acted; and I, through the +remainder of my indiscretion suffered myself to be drawn into the +prosecution of a difficult and thankless study, and to be involved +in a perpetual war with knaves and fools." + +There seems to be a strange affectation in authors of appearing to +have done everything by chance. The Old Bachelor was written for +amusement in the languor of convalescence. Yet it is apparently +composed with great elaborateness of dialogue, and incessant +ambition of wit. The age of the writer considered, it is indeed a +very wonderful performance; for, whenever written, it was acted +(1693) when he was not more than twenty-one years old; and was then +recommended by Mr. Dryden, Mr. Southern, and Mr. Maynwaring. Dryden +said that he never had seen such a first play; but they found it +deficient in some things necessary to the success of its exhibition, +and by their greater experience fitted it for the stage. Southern +used to relate of one comedy, probably of this, that when Congreve +read it to the players he pronounced it so wretchedly, that they had +almost rejected it; but they were afterwards so well persuaded of +its excellence that, for half a year before it was acted, the +manager allowed its author the privilege of the house. + +Few plays have ever been so beneficial to the writer, for it +procured him the patronage of Halifax, who immediately made him one +of the commissioners for licensing coaches, and soon after gave him +a place in the Pipe-office, and another in the Customs, of six +hundred pounds a year. Congreve's conversation must surely have +been at least equally pleasing with his writings. + +Such a comedy, written at such an age, requires some consideration. +As the lighter species of dramatic poetry professes the imitation of +common life, of real manners. and daily incidents, it apparently +presupposes a familiar knowledge of many characters, and exact +observation of the passing world; the difficulty, therefore, is to +conceive how this knowledge can be obtained by a boy. + +But if The Old Bachelor be more nearly examined, it will be found to +be one of those comedies which may be made by a mind vigorous and +acute, and furnished with comic characters by the perusal of other +poets, without much actual commerce with mankind. The dialogue is +one constant reciprocation of conceits or clash of wit, in which +nothing flows necessarily from the occasion, or is dictated by +nature. The characters, both of men and women, are either +fictitious and artificial, as those of Heartwell and the ladies, or +easy and common, as Wittol, a tame idiot; Bluff, a swaggering +coward; and Fondlewife, a jealous Puritan; and the catastrophe +arises from a mistake, not very probably produced, by marrying a +woman in a mask. Yet this gay comedy, when all these deductions are +made, will still remain the work of very powerful and fertile +faculties; the dialogue is quick and sparkling, the incidents such +as seize the attention, and the wit so exuberant that it "o'er- +informs its tenement." + +Next year he gave another specimen of his abilities in The Double +Dealer, which was not received with equal kindness. He writes to +his patron the Lord Halifax a dedication, in which he endeavours to +reconcile the reader to that which found few friends among the +audience. These apologies are always useless: de gestibus non est +disputandem. Men may be convinced, but they cannot be pleased, +against their will. But though taste is obstinate, it is very +variable, and time often prevails when arguments have failed. Queen +Mary conferred upon both those plays the honour of her presence; and +when she died soon after, Congreve testified his gratitude by a +despicable effusion of elegiac pastoral, a composition in which all +is unnatural and yet nothing is new. + +In another year (1695) his prolific pen produced Love for Love, a +comedy of nearer alliance to life, and exhibiting more real manners, +than either of the former. The character of Foresight was then +common. Dryden calculated nativities; both Cromwell and King +William had their lucky days; and Shaftesbury himself, though he had +no religion, was said to regard predictions. The Sailor is not +accounted very natural, but he is very pleasant. With this play was +opened the New Theatre, under the direction of Betterton, the +tragedian, where he exhibited two years afterwards (1687) The +Mourning Bride, a tragedy, so written as to show him sufficiently +qualified for either kind of dramatic poetry. In this play, of +which, when he afterwards revised it, he reduced the versification +to greater regularity; there is more bustle than sentiment; the plot +is busy and intricate, and the events take hold on the attention; +but, except a very few passages, we are rather amused with noise and +perplexed with stratagem, than entertained with any true delineation +of natural characters. This, however, was received with more +benevolence than any other of his works, and still continues to be +acted and applauded. + +But whatever objections may be made either to his comic or tragic +excellence, they are lost at once in the blaze of admiration, when +it is remembered that he had produced these four plays before he had +passed his twenty-fifth year, before other men, even such as are +some time to shine in eminence, have passed their probation of +literature, or presume to hope for any other notice than such as is +bestowed on diligence and inquiry. Among all the efforts of early +genius, which literary history records, I doubt whether any one can +be produced that more surpasses the common limits of nature than the +plays of Congreve. + +About this time began the long-continued controversy between Collier +and the poets. In the reign of Charles I. the Puritans had raised a +violent clamour against the drama, which they considered as an +entertainment not lawful to Christians, an opinion held by them in +common with the Church of Rome; and Prynne published +"Histriomastix," a huge volume in which stage-plays were censured. +The outrages and crimes of the Puritans brought afterwards their +whole system of doctrine into disrepute, and from the Restoration +the poets and players were left at quiet; for to have molested them +would have had the appearance of tendency to puritanical malignity. +This danger, however, was worn away by time, and Collier, a fierce +and implacable non-juror, knew that an attack upon the theatre would +never make him suspected for a Puritan; he therefore (1698) +published "A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the +English Stage," I believe with no other motive than religious zeal +and honest indignation. He was formed for a controvertist, with +sufficient learning, with diction vehement and pointed, though often +vulgar and incorrect, with unconquerable pertinacity, with wit in +the highest degree and sarcastic, and with all those powers exalted +and invigorated by just confidence in his cause. Thus qualified and +thus incited, he walked out to battle, and assailed at once most of +the living writers, from Dryden to Durfey. His onset was violent; +those passages, which, while they stood single, had passed with +little notice, when they were accumulated and exposed together, +excited horror. The wise and the pious caught the alarm, and the +nation wondered why it had so long suffered irreligion and +licentiousness to be openly taught at the public charge. + +Nothing now remained for the poets but to resist or fly. Dryden's +conscience or his prudence, angry as he was, withheld him from the +conflict. Congreve and Vanbrugh attempted answers. Congreve, a +very young man, elated with success, and impatient of censure, +assumed an air of confidence and security. His chief art of +controversy is to retort upon his adversary his own words: he is +very angry, and hoping to conquer Collier with his own weapons, +allows himself in the use of every term of contumely and contempt, +but he has the sword without the arm of Scanderbeg; he has his +antagonist's coarseness but not his strength. Collier replied, for +contest was his delight. "He was not to be frighted from his +purpose or his prey." + +The cause of Congreve was not tenable; whatever glosses he might use +for the defence or palliation of single passages, the general tenour +and tendency of his plays must always be condemned. It is +acknowledged, with universal conviction, that the perusal of his +works will make no man better, and that their ultimate effect is to +represent pleasure in alliance with vice, and to relax those +obligations by which life ought to be regulated. + +The stage found other advocates, and the dispute was protracted +through ten years: but at last comedy grew more modest, and Collier +lived to see the reformation of the theatre. + +Of the powers by which this important victory was achieved, a +quotation from Love for Love, and the remark upon it, may afford a +specimen:- + +Sir Samps. "Sampson's a very good name; for your Sampsons were +strong dogs from the beginning." + +Angel. "Have a care--if you remember, the strongest Sampson of your +name pulled an old house over his head at last." + +"Here you have the sacred history burlesqued, and Sampson once more +brought into the house of Dagon, to make sport for the Philistines!" + +Congreve's last play was The Way of The World, which, though, as he +hints in him dedication it was written with great labour and much +thought, was received with so little favour, that being in a high +degree offended and disgusted, he resolved to commit his quiet and +his fame no more to the caprices of an audience. + +From this time his life ceased to be public; he lived for himself +and his friends, and among his friends was able to name every man of +his time whom wit and elegance had raised to reputation. It may be +therefore reasonably supposed that his manners were polite, and his +conversation pleasing. He seems not to have taken much pleasure in +writing, as he contributed nothing to the Spectator, and only one +paper to the Tatler, though published by men with whom he might be +supposed willing to associate: and though he lived many years after +the publication of his "Miscellaneous Poems," yet he added nothing +to them, but lived on in literary indolence, engaged in no +controversy, contending with no rival, neither soliciting flattery +by public commendations, nor provoking enmity by malignant +criticism, but passing his time among the great and splendid, in the +placid enjoyment of his fame and fortune. + +Having owed his fortune to Halifax, he continued, always of his +patron's party, but, as it seems, without violence or acrimony, and +his firmness was naturally esteemed, as his abilities were +reverenced. His security therefore was never violated; and when, +upon the extrusion of the Whigs, some intercession was used lest +Congreve should be displaced, the Earl of Oxford made this answer:- + + +"Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora Poeni, +Nec tam aversus equos Tyria sol jungit ab urbe." + + +He that was thus honoured by the adverse party might naturally +expect to be advanced when his friends returned to power, and he was +accordingly made secretary for the island of Jamaica, a place, I +suppose without trust or care, but which, with his post in the +Customs, is said to have afforded him twelve hundred pounds a year. +His honours were yet far greater than his profits. Every writer +mentioned him with respect, and among other testimonies to his +merit, Steele made him the patron of his "Miscellany," and Pope +inscribed to him his translations of the "Iliad." But he treated +the muses with ingratitude; for, having long conversed familiarly +with the great, he wished to be considered rather as a man of +fashion than of wit; and, when he received a visit from Voltaire, +disgusted him by the despicable foppery of desiring to be considered +not as an author but a gentleman; to which the Frenchman replied, +"that, if he had been only a gentleman, he should not have come to +visit him." + +In his retirement he may be supposed to have applied himself to +books, for he discovers more literature than the poets have commonly +attained. But his studies were in his later days obstructed by +cataracts in his eyes, which at last terminated in blindness. This +melancholy state was aggravated by the gout, for which he sought +relief by a journey to Bath: but, being overturned in his chariot, +complained from that time of a pain in his side, and died at his +house in Surrey Street in the Strand, January 29, 1728-9. Having +lain in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, he was buried in Westminster +Abbey, where a monument is erected to his memory by Henrietta +Duchess of Marlborough, to whom, for reasons either not known or not +mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of about ten thousand pounds, the +accumulation of attentive parsimony, which, though to her +superfluous and useless, might have given great assistance to the +ancient family from which he descended, at that time, by the +imprudence of his relation, reduced to difficulties and distress. + + +Congreve has merit of the highest kind; he is an original writer, +who borrowed neither the models of his plot nor the manner of his +dialogue. Of his plays I cannot speak distinctly, for since I +inspected them many years have passed, but what remains upon my +memory is, that his characters are commonly fictitious and +artificial, with very little of nature, and not much of life. He +formed a peculiar idea of comic excellence, which he supposed to +consist in gay remarks and unexpected answers; but that which he +endeavoured, he seldom failed of performing. His scenes exhibit not +much of humour, imagery, or passion: his personages are a kind of +intellectual gladiators; every sentence is to ward or strike; the +contest of smartness is never intermitted; his wit is a meteor +playing to and fro with alternate coruscations. His comedies have, +therefore, in some degree, the operation of tragedies, they surprise +rather than divert, and raise admiration oftener than merriment. +But they are the works of a mind replete with images, and quick in +combination. + +Of his miscellaneous poetry I cannot say anything very favourable. +The powers of Congreve seem to desert him when he leaves the stage, +as Antaeus was no longer strong than when he could touch the ground. +It cannot be observed without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and +fertile in dramatic compositions should on any other occasion +discover nothing but impotence and poverty. He has in these little +pieces neither elevation of fancy, selection of language, nor skill +in versification: yet, if I were required to select from the whole +mass of English poetry the most poetical paragraph, I know not what +I could prefer to an exclamation in the "Mourning Bride":- + + +ALMERIA. + + It was a fancied noise; for all is hushed. + +LEONORA. + + It bore the accent of a human voice. + +ALMERIA. + + It was thy fear, or else some transient wind +Whistling through hollows of this vaulted isle: +We'll listen - + +LEONORA. + + Hark! + +ALMERIA. + + No, all is hushed and still as death.--'Tis dreadful! +How reverend is the face of this tall pile, +Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, +To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof, +By its own weight made steadfast and immovable, +Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe +And terror on my aching sight; the tombs +And monumental caves of death look cold, +And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. +Give use thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; +Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear +Thy voice--my own affrights me with its echoes. + + +He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet; +he feels what he remembers to have felt before, but he feels it with +great increase of sensibility; he recognises a familiar image, but +meets it again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty and +enlarged with majesty. Yet could the author, who appears here to +have enjoyed the confidence of Nature, lament the death of Queen +Mary in lines like these:- + + +"The rocks are cleft, and new-descending rills +Furrow the brows of all the impending hills. +The water-gods to floods their rivulets turn, +And each, with streaming eyes, supplies his wanting urn. +The fauns forsake the woods, the nymphs the grove, +And round the plain in sad distractions rove: +In prickly brakes their tender limbs they tear, +And leave on thorns their locks of golden hair. +With their sharp nails, themselves the satyrs wound, +And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with grief the ground. +Lo Pan himself, beneath a blasted oak, +Dejected lies, his pipe in pieces broke +See Pales weeping too in wild despair, +And to the piercing winds her bosses bare. +And see yon fading myrtle, where appears +The Queen of Love, all bathed in flowing tears; +See how she wrings her hands, and beats her breast, +And tears her useless girdle from her waist: +Hear the sad murmurs of her sighing doves! +For grief they sigh, forgetful of their loves." + + +And many years after he gave no proof that time had improved his +wisdom or his wit, for, on the death of the Marquis of Blandford, +this was his song:- + + +"And now the winds, which had so long been still, +Began the swelling air with sighs to fill; +The water-nymphs, who motionless remained +Like images of ice, while she complained, +Now loosed their streams; as when descending rains +Roll the steep torrents headlong o'er the plains. +The prone creation who so long had gazed +Charmed with her cries, and at her griefs amazed, +Began to roar and howl with horrid yell, +Dismal to hear, and terrible to tell! +Nothing but groans and sighs were heard around, +And echo multiplied each mournful sound." + + +In both these funeral poems, when he has YELLED out many SYLLABLES +of senseless DOLOUR, he dismisses his reader with senseless +consolation. From the grave of Pastora rises a light that forms a +star, and where Amaryllis wept for Amyntas from every tear sprung up +a violet. But William is his hero, and of William he will sing:- + + +"The hovering winds on downy wings shall wait around, +And catch, and waft to foreign lands, the flying sound." + + +It cannot but be proper to show what they shall have to catch and +carry:- + + +"'Twas now, when flowery lawns the prospect made, +And flowing brooks beneath a forest shade, +A lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd, +Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepared +Their armed heads for light, by fate of war to prove +The victor worthy of the fair one's love; +Unthought presage of what met next my view; +For soon the shady scene withdrew. +And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers, +Behold a town arise, bulwarked with walls and lofty towers; +Two rival armies all the plain o'erspread, +Each in battalia ranged, and shining arms arrayed +With eagle eyes beholding both from far, +Namur, the price and mistress of the war." + + +The "Birth of the Muse" is a miserable fiction. One good line it +has which was borrowed from Dryden. The concluding verses are +these:- + + +"This said, no more remained. The ethereal host +Again impatient crowd the crystal coast. +The father now, within his spacious hands, +Encompassed all the mingled mass of seas and lands; +And, having heaved aloft the ponderous sphere, +He launched the world to float in ambient air." + + +Of his irregular poems, that to Mrs. Arabella Hunt seems to be the +best; his Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, however, had some lines which +Pope had in his mind when he wrote his own. His imitations of +Horace are feebly paraphrastical, and the additions which he makes +are of little value. He sometimes retains what were more properly +omitted, as when he talks of VERVAIN and GUMS to propitiate Venus. + +Of his Translations, the "Satire of Juvenal" was written very early, +and may therefore be forgiven, though it had not the massiness and +vigour of the original. In all his versions strength and +sprightliness are wanting; his "Hymn to Venus," from Homer, is +perhaps the best. His lines are weakened with expletives, and his +rhymes are frequently imperfect. His petty poems are seldom worth +the cost of criticism; sometimes the thoughts are false and +sometimes common. In his verses on Lady Gethin, the latter part is +in imitation of Dryden's ode on Mrs. Killigrew; and "Doris," that +has been so lavishly flattered by Steele, has indeed some lively +stanzas, but the expression might be mended, and the most striking +part of the character had been already shown in "Love for Love." +His "Art of Pleasing" is founded on a vulgar, but perhaps +impracticable principle, and the staleness of the sense is not +concealed by any novelty of illustration or elegance of diction. +This tissue of poetry, from which he seems to have hoped a lasting +name, is totally neglected, and known only as it is appended to his +plays. + +While comedy or while tragedy is regarded, his plays are likely to +be read; but, except what relates to the stage, I know not that he +has ever written a stanza that is sung, or a couplet that is quoted. +The general character of his "Miscellanies" is that they show little +wit and little virtue. Yet to him it must be confessed that we are +indebted for the connection of a national error, and for the cure of +our Pindaric madness. He first taught the English writers that +Pindar's odes were regular; and though certainly he had not the lire +requisite for the higher species of lyric poetry, he has shown us +that enthusiasm has its rules, and that in mere confusion there is +neither grace nor greatness. + + + +BLACKMORE + + + +Sir Richard Blackmore is one of those men whose writings have +attracted much notice, but of whose life and manners very little has +been communicated, and whose lot it has been to be much oftener +mentioned by enemies than by friends. He was the son of Robert +Blackmore, of Corsham in Wiltshire, styled by Wood Gentleman, and +supposed to have been an attorney, having been for some time +educated in a country school, he was at thirteen sent to +Westminster, and in 1668 was entered at Edmund Hall in Oxford, where +he took the degree of MA. June 8, 1676, and resided thirteen years, +a much longer time than is usual to spend at the university, and +which he seems to have passed with very little attention to the +business of the place; for, in his poems, the ancient names of +nations or places, which he often introduces, are pronounced by +chance. He afterwards travelled. At Padua he was made doctor of +physic, and, after having wandered about a year and a half on the +Continent, returned home. + +In some part of his life, it is not known when, his indigence +compelled him to teach a school, a humiliation with which, though it +certainly lasted but a little while, his enemies did not forget to +reproach him, when he became conspicuous enough to excite +malevolence; and let it be remembered for his honour, that to have +been once a schoolmaster is the only reproach which all the +perspicacity of malice, animated by wit, has ever fixed upon his +private life. + +When he first engaged in the study of physic, he inquired, as he +says, of Dr. Sydenham, what authors he should read and was directed +by Sydenham to "Don Quixote": "which" said he, "is a very good +book; I read it still." The perverseness of mankind makes it often +mischievous to men of eminence to give way to merriment; the idle +and the illiterate will long shelter themselves under this foolish +apophthegm. Whether he rested satisfied with this direction, or +sought for better, he commenced physician, and obtained high +eminence and extensive practice. He became Fellow of the College of +Physicians, April 12, 1687, being one of the thirty which, by the +new charter of King James, were added to the former fellows. His +residence was in Cheapside, and his friends were chiefly in the +City. In the early part of Blackmore's time a citizen was a term of +reproach; and his place of abode was another topic, to which his +adversaries had recourse in the penury of scandal. + +Blackmore, therefore, was made a poet not by necessity but +inclination, and wrote not for a livelihood but for fame; or, if he +may tell his own motives, for a nobler purpose, to engage poetry in +the cause of virtue. + +I believe it is peculiar to him that his first public work was an +heroic poem. He was not known as a maker of verses till he +published (in 1695) "Prince Arthur," in ten books, written, as he +relates, "by such catches and starts, and in such occasional +uncertain hours as his profession afforded, and for the greatest +part in coffee-houses, or in passing up and down the streets." For +the latter part of this apology he was accused of writing "to the +rumbling of his chariot wheels." He had read, he says, "but little +poetry throughout his whole life; and for fifteen years before had +not written a hundred verses except one copy of Latin verses in +praise of a friend's book." He thinks, and with some reason, that +from such a performance perfection cannot be expected; but he finds +another reason for the severity of his censurers, which he expresses +in language such as Cheapside easily furnished. "I am not free of +the Poet's Company, having never kissed the governor's hands: mine +is therefore not so much as a permission poem, but a downright +interloper. Those gentlemen, who carry on their poetical trade in a +joint stock, would certainly do what they could to sink and ruin an +unlicensed adventurer, notwithstanding I disturbed none of their +factories, nor imported any goods they have ever dealt in." He had +lived in the City till he had learned its note. + +That "Prince Arthur" found many readers is certain; for in two years +it had three editions, a very uncommon instance of favourable +reception, at a time when literary curiosity was yet confined to +particular classes of the nation. Such success naturally raised +animosity; and Dennis attacked it by a formal criticism, more +tedious and disgusting than the work which he condemns. To this +censure may be opposed the approbation of Locke, and the admiration +of Molyneux, which are found in their printed "Letters." Molyneux +is particularly delighted with the song of Mopas, which is therefore +subjoined to this narrative. + +It is remarked by Pope, that "what raises the hero, often sinks the +man." Of Blackmore is may be said that, as the poet sinks, the man +rises; the animadversions of Dennis, insolent and contemptuous as +they were, raised in him no implacable resentment; he and his critic +were afterwards friends; and in one of his latter works he praises +Dennis "as equal to Boileau in poetry, and superior to him in +critical abilities." He seems to have been more delighted with +praise than pained by censure, and instead of slackening, quickened +his career. Having in two years produced ten books of "Prince +Arthur," in two years more (1697) he sent into the world "King +Arthur" in twelve. The provocation was now doubled, and the +resentment of wits and critics may be supposed to have increased in +proportion. He found, however, advantages more than equivalent to +all their outrages. He was this year made one of the physicians in +ordinary to King William, and advanced by him to the honour of +knighthood, with the present of a gold chaise and medal. The +malignity of the wits attributed his knighthood to his new poem, but +King William was not very studious of poetry; and Blackmore perhaps +had other merit, for he says in his dedication to "Alfred," that "he +had a greater part in the succession of the house of Hanover than +ever he had boasted." + +What Blackmore could contribute to the Succession, or what he +imagined himself to have contributed, cannot now be known. That he +had been of considerable use, I doubt not but he believed, for I +hold him to have been very honest; but he might easily make a false +estimate of his own importance. Those whom their virtue restrains +from deceiving others, are often disposed by their vanity to deceive +themselves. Whether he promoted the Succession or not, he at least +approved it, and adhered invariably to his principles and party +through his whole life. + +His ardour of poetry still continued; and not long after (1700) he +published a "Paraphrase on the Book of Job, and other parts of the +Scripture." This performance Dryden, who pursued him with great +malignity, lived long enough to ridicule in a Prologue. + +The wits easily confederated against him, as Dryden, whose favour +they almost all courted, was his professed adversary. He had, +besides, given them reason for resentment, as, in his preface to +"Prince Arthur," he had said of the dramatic writers almost all that +was alleged afterwards by Collier; but Blackmore's censure was cold +and general, Collier's was personal and ardent; Blackmore taught his +reader to dislike what Collier incited him to abhor. + +In his preface to "King Arthur" he endeavoured to gain at least one +friend, and propitiated Congreve by higher praise of his "Mourning +Bride" than it has obtained from any other critic. + +The same year he published a "Satire on Wit," a proclamation of +defiance which united the poets almost all against him, and which +brought upon him lampoons and ridicule from every side. This he +doubtless foresaw, and evidently despised; nor should his dignity of +mind be without its praise, had he not paid the homage to greatness +which he denied to genius, and degraded himself by conferring that +authority over the national taste, which he takes from the poets, +upon men of high rank and wide influence, but of less wit and not +greater virtue. + +Here is again discovered the inhabitant of Cheapside, whose head +cannot keep his poetry unmingled with trade. To hinder that +intellectual bankruptcy which he affects to fear he will erect a +"Bank for Wit." In this poem he justly censured Dryden's +impurities, but praised his powers, though in a subsequent edition +he retained the satire, and omitted the praise. What was his +reason, I know not; Dryden was then no longer in his way. His head +still teemed with heroic poetry; and (1705) he published "Eliza," in +ten books. I am afraid that the world was now weary of contending +about Blackmore's heroes, for I do not remember that by any author, +serious or comical, I have found "Eliza" either praised or blamed. + +She "dropped," as it seems, "dead-born from the press." It is never +mentioned, and was never seen by me till I borrowed it for the +present occasion. Jacob says "it is corrected and revised from +another impression," but the labour of revision was thrown away. + +From this time he turned some of his thoughts to the celebration of +living characters, and wrote a poem on the Kit-Cat Club, and "Advice +to the Poets how to celebrate the Duke of Marlborough" but on +occasion of another year of success, thinking himself qualified to +give more instruction, he again wrote a poem of "Advice to a Weaver +of Tapestry." Steele was then publishing the Tatler, and, looking +round him for something at which he might laugh, unluckily alighted +on Sir Richard's work, and treated it with such contempt that, as +Fenton observes, he put an end to that species of writers that gave +advice to painters. + +Not long after (1712) he published "Creation," a philosophical poem, +which has been, by my recommendation, inserted in the late +collection. Whoever judges of this by any other of Blackmore's +performances will do it injury. The praise given it by Addison +(Spectator, 339) is too well known to be transcribed; but some +notice is due to the testimony of Dennis, who calls it a +"philosophical poem, which has equalled that of 'Lucretius' in the +beauty of its versification, and infinitely surpassed it in the +solidity and strength of its reasoning." + +Why an author surpasses himself it is natural to inquire. I have +heard from Mr. Draper, an eminent bookseller, an account received by +him from Ambrose Philips, "That Blackmore, as he proceeded in this +poem, laid his manuscript from time to time before a club of wits +with whom he associated, and that every man contributed, as he +could, either improvement or correction; so that," said Philips, +"there are perhaps nowhere in the book thirty lines together that +now stand as they were originally written." + +The relation of Philips, I suppose, was true; but when all +reasonable, all credible allowance is made for this friendly +revision, the author will still retain an ample dividend of praise; +for to him must always be assigned the plan of the work, the +distribution of its parts, the choice of topics, the train of +argument, and, what is yet more, the general predominance of +philosophical judgment and poetical spirit. Correction seldom +effects more than the suppression of faults: a happy line, or a +single elegance, may perhaps be added; but of a large work, the +general character must always remain. The original constitution can +be very little helped by local remedies; inherent and radical +dulness will never be much invigorated by intrinsic animation. This +poem, if he had written nothing else, would have transmitted him to +posterity among the first favourites of the English muse; but to +make verses was his transcendent pleasure, and, as he was not +deterred by censure, he was not satiated with praise. He deviated, +however, sometimes into other tracks of literature, and condescended +to entertain his readers with plain prose. When the Spectator +stopped, he considered the polite world as destitute of +entertainment, and in concert with Mr. Hughes, who wrote every third +paper, published three times a week the "Lay Monastery," founded on +the supposition that some literary men, whose characters are +described, had retired to a house in the country to enjoy +philosophical leisure, and resolved to instruct the public by +communicating their disquisitions and amusements. Whether any real +persons were concealed under fictitious names is not known. The +hero of the club is one Mr. Johnson, such a constellation of +excellence, that his character shall not be suppressed, though there +is no great genius in the design nor skill in the delineation. + +"The first I shall name is Mr. Johnson, a gentleman that owes to +nature excellent faculties and an elevated genius, and to industry +and application many acquired accomplishments. His taste is +distinguishing, just, and delicate; his judgment clear, and his +reason strong, accompanied with an imagination full of spirit, of +great compass, and stored with refined ideas. He is a critic of the +first rank and, what is his peculiar ornament, he is delivered from +the ostentation, malevolence, and supercilious temper, that so often +blemish men of that character. His remarks result from the nature +and reason of things, and are formed by a judgment free and +unbiassed by the authority of those who have lazily followed each +other in the same beaten track of thinking, and are arrived only at +the reputation of acute grammarians and commentators; men who have +been copying one another many hundred years without any improvement, +or, if they have ventured farther, have only applied in a mechanical +manner the rules of ancient critics to modern writings, and with +great labour discovered nothing but their own want of judgment and +capacity. As Mr. Johnson penetrates to the bottom of his subject, +by which means his observations are solid and natural, as well as +delicate, so his design is always to bring to light something useful +and ornamental; whence his character is the reverse to theirs, who +have eminent abilities in insignificant knowledge, and a great +felicity in finding out trifles. He is no less industrious to +search out the merit of an author, than sagacious in discerning his +errors and defects, and takes more pleasure in commending the +beauties than exposing the blemishes of a laudable writing. Like +Horace, in a long work he can bear some deformities, and justly lay +them on the imperfection of human nature, which is incapable of +faultless productions. When an excellent drama appears in public, +and by its intrinsic worth attracts a general applause, he is not +stung with envy and spleen; nor does he express a savage nature in +fastening upon the celebrated author, dwelling upon his imaginary +defects, and passing over his conspicuous excellences. He treats +all writers upon the same impartial foot, and is not, like the +little critics, taken up entirely in finding out only the beauties +of the ancient and nothing but the errors of the modern writers. +Never did any one express more kindness and good-nature to young and +unfinished authors, he promotes their interests, protects their +reputation, extenuates their faults, and sets off their virtues, and +by his candour guards them from the severity of his judgment. He is +not like those dry critics who are morose because they cannot write +themselves, but is himself master of a good vein in poetry; and +though he does not often employ it, yet he has sometimes entertained +his friends with his unpublished performances." + +The rest of the lay monks seem to be but feeble mortals an +comparison with the gigantic Johnson, who yet, with all his +abilities and the help of the fraternity, could drive the +publication but to forty papers, which were afterwards collected +into a volume, and called in the title "A Sequel to the Spectators." + +Some years afterwards (1716 and 1717) he published two volumes of +essays in prose, which can be commended only as they are written for +the highest and noblest purpose--the promotion of religion. +Blackmore's prose is not the prose of a poet, for it is languid, +sluggish, and lifeless; his diction is neither daring nor exact, his +flow neither rapid nor easy, and his periods neither smooth nest +strong. His account of WIT will show with how little clearness he +is content to think, and how little his thoughts are recommended by +his language. + +"As to its efficient cause, WIT owes its production to an +extraordinary and peculiar temperament in the constitution of the +possessor of it, in which is found a concurrence of regular and +exalted ferments, and an affluence of animal spirits, refined and +rectified to a great degree of purity; whence, being endowed with +vivacity, brightness, and celerity, as well in their reflections as +direct motions, they become proper instruments for the sprightly +operations of the mind, by which means the imagination can with +great facility range the wide field of Nature, contemplate an +infinite variety of objects, and, by observing the similitude and +disagreement of their several qualities, single out and abstract, +and then suit and unite, those ideas which will best serve its +purpose. Hence beautiful allusions, surprising metaphors, and +admirable sentiments, are always ready at hand; and while the fancy +is full of images, collected from innumerable objects, and their +different qualities, relations, and habitudes, it can at pleasure +dress a common notion in a strange but becoming garb, by which, as +before observed, the same thought will appear a new one, to the +great delight and wonder of the hearer. What we call genius results +from this particular happy complexion in the first formation of the +person that enjoys it, and is Nature's gift, but diversified by +various specific characters and limitations, as its active fire is +blended and allayed by different proportions of phlegm, or reduced +and regulated by the contrast of opposite ferments. Therefore, as +there happens in the composition of facetious genius a greater or +less, though still an inferior, degree of judgment and prudence, one +man of wit will be varied and distinguished from another." + +In these essays he took little care to propitiate the wits, for he +scorns to avert their malice at the expense of virtue or of truth. + +"Several, in their books, have many sarcastical and spiteful strokes +at religion in general; while others make themselves pleasant with +the principles of the Christian. Of the last kind this age has seen +a most audacious example in the book entitled 'A Tale of a Tub.' +Had this writing been published in a pagan or popish nation, who are +justly impatient of all indignity offered to the established +religion of their country, no doubt but the author would have +received the punishment he deserved. But the fate of this impious +buffoon is very different, for in a Protestant kingdom, zealous of +their civil and religious immunities, he has not only escaped +affronts and the effects of public resentment, but has been caressed +and patronised by persons of great figure, and of all denominations. +Violent party-men, who differed in all things besides, agreed in +their turn to show particular respect and friendship to this +insolent derider of the worship of his country, till at last the +reputed writer is not only gone off with impunity, but triumphs in +his dignity and preferment. I do not know that any inquiry or +search was ever made after this writing, or that any reward was ever +offered for the discovery of the author, or that the infamous book +was ever condemned to be burnt in public. Whether this proceeds +from the excessive esteem and love that men in power, during the +late reign, had for wit, or their defect of zeal and concern for the +Christian religion will be determined best by those who are best +acquainted with their character." + +In another place he speaks with becoming abhorrence of a GODLESS +AUTHOR who has burlesqued a Psalm. This author was supposed to be +Pope, who published a reward for any one that would produce the +coiner of the accusation, but never denied it, and was afterwards +the perpetual and incessant enemy of Blackmore. + +One of his essays is upon the spleen, which is treated by him so +much to his own satisfaction, that he has published the same +thoughts in the same words; first, in the "Lay Monastery," then in +the "Essay," and then in the "Preface to a Medical Treatise on the +Spleen." One passage, which I have found already twice, I will here +exhibit, because I think it better imagined and better expressed +than could be expected from the common tenor of his prose:- + +"--As the several combinations of splenetic madness and folly +produce an infinite variety of irregular under-standing, so the +amicable accommodation and alliance between several virtues and +vices produce an equal diversity in the dispositions and manners of +mankind; whence it comes to pass, that as many monstrous and absurd +productions are found in the moral as in the intellectual world. +How surprising is it to observe among the least culpable men, some +whose minds are attracted by heaven and earth with a seeming equal +force; some who are proud of humility; others who are censorious and +uncharitable, yet self-denying and devout; some who join contempt of +the world with sordid avarice; and others, who preserve a great +degree of piety with ill-nature and ungoverned passions. Nor are +instances of this inconsistent mixture less frequent among bad men, +where we often with admiration see persons at once generous and +unjust, impious lovers of their country, and flagitious heroes, +good-natured sharpers, immoral men of honour, and libertines who +will sooner die than change their religion; and though it is true +that repugnant coalitions of so high a degree are found but in a +part of mankind, yet none of the whole mass, either good or bad, are +entirely exempted from some absurd mixture." + +He about this time (August 22, 1716) became one of the elects of the +College of Physicians, and was soon after (October 1) chosen Censor. +He seems to have arrived late, whatever was the reason, at his +medical honours. + +Having succeeded so well in his book on Creation, by which he +established the great principle of all religion, he thought his +undertaking imperfect, unless he likewise enforced the truth of +Revelation, and for that purpose added another poem on "Redemption." +He had likewise written before his "Creation" three books on the +Nature of Man. + +The lovers of musical devotion have always wished for a more happy +metrical version than they have yet obtained of the Book of Psalms. +This wish the piety of Blackmore led him to gratify, and he produced +(1721) "A New Version of the Psalms of David fitted to the Tunes +used in Churches," which being recommended by the archbishops and +many bishops, obtained a license for its admission into public +worship; but no admission has it yet obtained, nor has it any right +to come where Brady and Tate have got possession. Blackmore's name +must be added to those of many others who, by the same attempt, have +obtained only the praise of meaning well. + +He was not yet deterred from heroic poetry. There was another +monarch of this island (for he did not fetch his heroes from foreign +countries) whom he considered as worthy the epic muse, and he +dignified "Alfred" (1723) with twelve books. But the opinion of the +nation was now settled; a hero introduced by Blackmore was not +likely to find either respect or kindness; "Alfred" took his place +by "Eliza" in silence and darkness. Benevolence was ashamed to +favour, and malice was weary of insulting. Of his four epic poems, +the first had such reputation and popularity as enraged the critics; +the second was at least known enough to be ridiculed; the two last +had neither friends nor enemies. + +Contempt is a kind of gangrene, which, if it seizes one part of a +character, corrupts all the rest by degrees. Blackmore being +despised as a poet, was in time neglected as a physician; his +practice, which was once invidiously great, forsook him in the +latter part of his life, but being by nature, or by principle, +averse from idleness, he employed his unwelcome leisure in writing +books on physic, and teaching others to cure those whom he could +himself cure no longer. I know not whether I can enumerate all the +treatises by which he has endeavoured to diffuse the art of healing, +for there is scarcely any distemper of dreadful name which he has +not taught the reader how to oppose. He has written on the small- +pox, with a vehement invective against inoculation; on consumption, +the spleen, the gout, the rheumatism, the king's evil, the dropsy, +the jaundice, the stone, the diabetes, and the plague. Of those +books, if I had read them, it could nor be expected that I should be +able to give a critical account. I have been told that there is +something in them of vexation and discontent, discovered by a +perpetual attempt to degrade physic from its sublimity, and to +represent it as attainable without much previous or concomitant +learning. By the transient glances which I have thrown upon them I +have observed an affected contempt of the ancients, and a +supercilious derision of transmitted knowledge. Of this indecent +arrogance the following quotation from his preface to the "Treatise +on the Small-pox" will afford a specimen, in which, when the reader +finds what I fear is true, that, when he was censuring Hippocrates, +he did not know the difference between aphorism and apophthegm, he +will not pay much regard to his determinations concerning ancient +learning. + +"As for this book of aphorisms, it is like my Lord Bacon's of the +same title, a book of jests, or a grave collection of trite and +trifling observations; of which, though many are true and certain, +yet they signify nothing, and may afford diversion, but no +instruction, most of them being much inferior to the sayings of the +wise men of Greece, which yet are so low and mean, that we are +entertained every day with more valuable sentiments at the table +conversation of ingenious and learned men." + +I am unwilling, however, to leave him in total disgrace, and will +therefore quote from another preface a passage less reprehensible. + +"Some gentlemen have been disingenuous and unjust to me, by wresting +and forcing my meaning, in the preface to another book, as if I +condemned and exposed all learning, though they knew I declared that +I greatly honoured and esteemed all men of superior literature and +erudition, and that I only undervalued false or superficial +learning, that signifies nothing for the service of mankind; and +that as to physic, I expressly affirmed that learning must be joined +with native genius to make a physician of the first rank; but if +those talents are separated, I asserted, and do still insist, that a +man of native sagacity and diligence will prove a more able and +useful practiser than a heavy notional scholar, encumbered with a +heap of confused ideas." + +He was not only a poet and a physician, but produced likewise a work +of a different kind, "A True and Impartial History of the Conspiracy +against King William of Glorious Memory in the Year 1695." This I +have never seen, but suppose it is at least compiled with integrity. +He engaged likewise in theological controversy, and wrote two books +against the Arians: "Just Prejudices against the Arian Hypothesis," +and "Modern Arians Unmasked." Another of his works is "Natural +Theology; or, Moral Duties considered apart from Positive; with some +Observations on the Desirableness and Necessity of a Supernatural +Revelation." This was the last book that he published. He left +behind him "The Accomplished Preacher; or, an Essay upon Divine +Eloquence," which was printed after his death by Mr. White of +Nayland, in Essex, the minister who attended his death-bed, and +testified the fervent piety of his last hours. He died on the 8th +of October, 1729. + + +Blackmore, by the unremitted enmity of the wits, whom he provoked +more by his virtue than his dulness, has been exposed to worse +treatment than he deserved. His name was so long used to point +every epigram upon dull writers, that it became at last a byword of +contempt but it deserves observation, that malignity takes hold only +of his writings, and that his life passed without reproach, even +when his boldness of reprehension naturally turned upon him many +eyes desirous to espy faults which many tongues would have made +haste to publish. But those who could not blame, could, at least, +forbear to praise, and therefore of his private life and domestic +character there are no memorials. + +As an author, he may justly claim the honours of magnanimity. The +incessant attacks of his enemies, whether serious or merry, are +never discovered to have disturbed his quiet, or to have lessened +his confidence in himself: they neither awed him to silence nor to +caution: they neither provoked him to petulance, nor depressed him +to complaint. While the distributors of literary fame were +endeavouring to depreciate and degrade him, he either despised or +defied them, wrote on as he had written before, and never turned +aside to quiet them by civility, or repress them by confutation. He +depended with great security on his own powers, and perhaps was for +that reason less diligent in perusing books. His literature was, I +think, but small. What he knew of antiquity, I suspect him to have +gathered from modern compilers; but, though he could not boast of +much critical knowledge, his mind was stored with general +principles, and he left minute researches to those whom he +considered as little minds. With this disposition he wrote most of +his poems. Having formed a magnificent design, he was careless of +particular and subordinate elegances; he studied no niceties of +versification; he waited for no felicities of fancy, but caught his +first thoughts in the first words in which they were presented; nor +does it appear that he saw beyond his own performances, or had ever +elevated his was to that ideal perfection which every genius born to +excel is condemned always to pursue, and never overtake. In the +first suggestions of his imagination he acquiesced; he thought them +good, and did not seek for better. His works may be read a long +time without the occurrence of a single line that stands prominent +from the rest. The poem on "Creation" has, however, the appearance +of more circumspection; it wants neither harmony of numbers, +accuracy of thought, nor elegance of diction. It has either been +written with great care, or, what cannot be imagined of so long a +work, with such felicity as made care less necessary. Its two +constituent parts are ratiocination and description. To reason in +verse is allowed to be difficult; but Blackmore not only reasons in +verse, but very often reasons poetically; and finds the art of +uniting ornament with strength and ease with closeness. This is a +skill which Pope might have condescended to learn from him, when he +needed it so much in his "Moral Essays." + +In his descriptions both of life and nature, the poet and the +philosopher happily co-operate; truth is recommended by elegance, +and elegance sustained by truth. In the structure and order of the +poem, not only the greater parts are properly consecutive, but the +didactic and illustrative paragraphs are so happily mingled, that +labour is relieved by pleasure, and the attention is led on through +a long succession of varied excellence to the original position, the +fundamental principle of wisdom and of virtue. + +As the heroic poems of Blackmore are now little read, it is thought +proper to insert, as a specimen from "Prince Arthur," the song of +Mopas mentioned by Molyneux:- + + + "But that which Arthur with most pleasure heard +Were noble strains, by Mopas sung the bard, +Who to his harp in lofty verse began, +And through the secret maze of Nature ran. +He the Great Spirit sung, that all things filled, +That the tumultuous waves of Chaos stilled; +Whose nod disposed the jarring seeds to peace, +And made the wars of hostile Atoms cease. +All Beings, we in fruitful Nature find, +Proceeded from the Great Eternal mind: +Streams of his unexhausted spring of power, +And, cherished with his influence, endure. +He spread the pure cerulean fields on high, +And arched the chambers of the vaulted sky, +Which he, to suit their glory with their height, +Adorned with globes, that reel, as drunk with light. +His hand directed all the tuneful spheres, +He turned their orbs, and polished all the stars. +He filled the Sun's vast lamp with golden light: +And bid the silver Moon adorn the night. +He spread the airy Ocean without shores, +Where birds are wafted with their feathered oars. +Then sung the bard how the light vapours rise +From the warm earth, and cloud the smiling skies; +He sung how some, chilled in their airy flight, +Fall scattered down in pearly dew by night; +How some, raised higher, sit in secret steams +On the reflected points of bounding beams, +Till, chilled with cold, they shade th' ethereal plain, +Then on the thirsty earth descend in rain; +How some, whose parts a slight contexture show, +Sink hovering through the air in fleecy snow; +How part is spun in silken threads, and clings +Entangled in the grass is gluey strings; +How others stamp to stones, with rushing sound +Fall from their crystal quarries to the ground; +How some are laid in trains, that kindled fly, +In harmless fires by night, about the sky; +How some in winds blow with impetuous force, +And carry ruin where they bend their course, +While some conspire to form a gentle breeze, +To fan the air, and play among the trees; +How some, enraged, grow turbulent and loud, +Pent in the bowels of a frowning cloud, +That cracks, as if the axis of the world +Was broke, and Heaven's bright towers were downwards hurled. +He sung how earth's wide ball, at Jove's command, +Did in the midst on airy columns stand; +And how the soul of plants, in prison held, +And bound with sluggish fetters, lies concealed, +Till with the spring's warm beams, almost released +From the dull weight, with which it lay opprest, +Its vigour spreads, and makes the teeming earth +Heave up, and labour with the sprouting birth: +The active spirit freedom seeks in vain, +It only works and twists a stronger chain; +Urging its prison's sides to break a way, +It makes that wider, where 'tis forced to stay: +Till, having formed its living house, it rears +Its head, and in a tender plant appears. +Hence springs the oak, the beauty of the grove, +Whose stately trunk fierce storms can scarcely move. +Hence grows the cedar, hence the swelling vine +Does round the elm its purple clusters twine. +Hence painted flowers the smiling gardens bless, +Both with their fragrant scent and gaudy dress. +Hence the white lily in full beauty grows, +Hence the blue violet and blushing rose. +He sung how sunbeams brood upon the earth, +And in the glebe hatch such a numerous birth; +Which way the genial warmth in Summer storms +Turns putrid vapours to a bed of worms; +How rain, transformed by this prolific power, +Falls from the clouds an animated shower. +He sung the embryo's growth within the womb, +And how the parts their various shapes assume. +With what rare art the wondrous structure's wrought, +From one crude mass to such perfection brought; +That no part useless, none misplaced we see, +None are forgot, and more would monstrous be." + + + +POPE + + + +Alexander Pope was born in London, May 22, 1688, of parents whose +rank or station was never ascertained: we are informed that they +were of "gentle blood;" that his father was of a family of which the +Earl of Downe was the head, and that his mother was the daughter of +William Turner, Esquire, of York, who had likewise three sons, one +of whom had the honour of being killed, and the other of dying, in +the service of Charles the First; the third was made a general +officer in Spain, from whom the sister inherited what sequestrations +and forfeitures had left in the family. This, and this only, is +told by Pope, who is more willing, as I have heard observed, to show +what his father was not, than what he was. It is allowed that he +grew rich by trade; but whether in a shop or on the Exchange was +never discovered till Mr. Tyers told, on the authority of Mrs. +Racket, that he was a linendraper in the Strand. Both parents were +Papists. + +Pope was from his birth of a constitution tender and delicate, but +is said to have shown remarkable gentleness and sweetness of +disposition. The weakness of his body continued through his life, +but the mildness of his mind perhaps ended with his childhood. His +voice when he was young was so pleasing, that he was called in +fondness "The Little Nightingale." + +Being not sent early to school, he was taught to read by an aunt; +and, when he was seven or eight years old, became a lover of books. +He first learned to write by imitating printed books, a species of +penmanship in which he retained great excellence through his whole +life, though his ordinary hand was not elegant. When he was about +eight he was placed in Hampshire, under Taverner, a Romish priest, +who, by a method very rarely practised, taught him the Greek and +Latin rudiments together. He was now first regularly initiated in +poetry by the perusal of "Ogilby's Homer" and "Sandys' Ovid." +Ogilby's assistance he never repaid with any praise; but of Sandys +he declared, in his notes to the "Iliad," that English poetry owed +much of its beauty to his translations. Sandys very rarely +attempted original composition. + +From the care of Taverner, under whom his proficiency was +considerable, he was removed to a school at Twyford, near +Winchester, and again to another school about Hyde Park Corner, from +which he used sometimes to stroll to the play-hones, and was so +delighted with theatrical exhibitions, that he formed a kind of play +from "Ogilby's Iliad," with some verses of his own intermixed, which +he persuaded his schoolfellows to act, with the addition of his +master's gardener, who personated Ajax. + +At the two last schools he used to represent himself as having lost +part of what Taverner had taught him, and on his master at Twyford +he had already exercised his poetry in a lampoon. Yet under those +masters he translated more than a fourth part of the +"Metamorphoses." If he kept the same proportion in his other +exercises, it cannot be thought that his loss was great. He tells +of himself, in his poems, that "he lisped in numbers;" and used to +say that he could not remember the time when he began to make +verses. In the style of fiction, it might have been said of him, as +of Pindar, that when he lay in his cradle "the bees swarmed about +his mouth." + +About the time of the Revolution his father, who was undoubtedly +disappointed by the sudden blast of Popish prosperity, quitted his +trade, and retired to Binfield, in Windsor Forest, with about twenty +thousand pounds, for which, being conscientiously determined not to +entrust it to the Government, he found no better use than that of +locking it up in a chest, and taking from it what his expenses +required; and his life was long enough to consume a great part of it +before his son came to the inheritance. + +To Binfield Pope was called by his father when he was about twelve +years old, and there he had for a few months the assistance of one +Deane, another priest, of whom he learned only to construe a little +of "Tully's Offices." How Mr. Deane could spend with a boy who had +translated so much of "Ovid" some months over a small part of +"Tully's Offices," it is now vain to inquire. Of a youth so +successfully employed, and so conspicuously improved, a minute +account must be naturally desired; but curiosity must be contented +with confused, imperfect, and sometimes improbable intelligence. +Pope, finding little advantage from external help, resolved +thenceforward to direct himself, and at twelve formed a plan of +study, which he completed with little other incitement than the +desire of excellence. His primary and principal purpose was to be a +poet, with which his father accidentally concurred by proposing +subjects and obliging him to correct his performances by many +revisals, after which the old gentleman, when he was satisfied, +would say, "These are good rhymes." In his perusal of the English +poets he soon distinguished the versification of Dryden, which he +considered as the model to be studied, and was impressed with such +veneration for his instructor, that he persuaded some friends to +take him to the coffee-house which Dryden frequented, and pleased +himself with having seen him. + +Dryden died May 1, 1701, some days before Pope was twelve; so early +must he therefore have felt the power of harmony, and the zeal of +genius. Who does not wish that Dryden could have known the value of +the homage that was paid him, and foreseen the greatness of his +young admirer? + +The earliest of Pope's productions is his "Ode on Solitude," written +before he was twelve, in which there is nothing more than other +forward boys have attained, and which is not equal to Cowley's +performance at the same age. His time was now wholly spent in +reading and writing. As he read the classics he amused himself with +translating them, and at fourteen made a version of the first book +of the "Thebais," which, with some revision, he afterwards +published. He must have been at this time, if he had no help, a +considerable proficient in the Latin tongue. + +By Dryden's fables, which had then been not long published, and were +much in the hands of poetical readers, he was tempted to try his own +skill in giving Chaucer a more fashionable appearance, and put +"January and May" and the "Prologue of the Wife of Bath" into modern +English. He translated likewise the Epistle of "Sappho to Phaon" +from Ovid, to complete the version, which was before imperfect, and +wrote some other small pieces, which he afterwards printed. He +sometimes imitated the English poets, and professed to have written +at fourteen his poem upon "Silence," after Rochester's "Nothing." +He had now formed his versification, and the smoothness of his +numbers surpassed his original; but this is a small part of his +praise; he discovers such acquaintance both with human life and +public affairs as is not easily conceived to have been attainable by +a boy of fourteen in Windsor Forest. + +Next year he was desirous of opening to himself new sources of +knowledge, by making himself acquainted with modern languages, and +removed for a time to London, that he might study French and +Italian, which, as he desired nothing more than to read them, were +by diligent application soon despatched. Of Italian learning he +does not appear to have ever made much use in his subsequent +studies. He then returned to Binfield, and delighted himself with +his own poetry. He tried all styles, and many subjects. He wrote a +comedy, a tragedy, an epic poem, with panegyrics on all the princes +of Europe; and, as he confesses, "thought himself the greatest +genius that ever was." Self-confidence is the first requisite to +great undertakings. He, indeed, who forms his opinion of himself in +solitude, without knowing the powers of other men, is very liable to +error; but it was the felicity of Pope to rate himself at his real +value. Most of his puerile productions were, by his maturer +judgment, afterwards destroyed. "Alcander," the epic poem, was +burnt by the persuasion of Atterbury. The tragedy was founded on +the legend of St. Genevieve. Of the comedy there is no account. +Concerning his studies, it is related that he translated "Tully on +Old Age," and that, besides his books of poetry and criticisms, he +read "Temple's Essays" and "Locke on Human Understanding." His +reading, though his favourite authors are not known, appears to have +been sufficiently extensive and multifarious, for his early pieces +show with sufficient evidence his knowledge of books. He that is +pleased with himself easily imagines that he shall please others. +Sir William Trumbull, who had been Ambassador at Constantinople, and +Secretary of State, when he retired from business, fixed his +residence in the neighbourhood of Binfield. Pope, not yet sixteen, +was introduced to the statesman of sixty, and so distinguished +himself that their interviews ended in friendship and +correspondence. Pope was, through his whole life, ambitious of +splendid acquaintance; and he seems to have wanted neither diligence +nor success in attracting the notice of the great, for, from his +first entrance into the world, and his entrance was very early, he +was admitted to familiarity with those whose rank or station made +them most conspicuous. + +From the age of sixteen the life of Pope, as an author, may be +properly computed. He now wrote his pastorals, which were shown to +the poets and critics of that time. As they well deserved, they +were read with admiration, and many praises were bestowed upon them +and upon the preface, which is both elegant and learned in a high +degree; they were, however, not published till five years +afterwards. + +Cowley, Milton, and Pope are distinguished among the English poets +by the early exertion of their powers, but the works of Cowley alone +were published in his childhood, and, therefore, of him only can it +be certain that his puerile performances received no improvement +from his maturer studies. + +At this time began his acquaintance with Wycherley, a man who seems +to have had among his contemporaries his full share of reputation, +to have been esteemed without virtue, and caressed without good +humour. Pope was proud of his notice. Wycherley wrote verses in +his praise, which he was charged by Dennis with writing to himself, +and they agreed for a while to flatter one another. It is pleasant +to remark how soon Pope learned the cant of an author, and began to +treat critics with contempt, though he had yet suffered nothing from +them. But the fondness of Wycherley was too violent to last. His +esteem of Pope was such that he submitted some poems to his +revision, and when Pope, perhaps proud of such confidence, was +sufficiently bold in his criticisms, and liberal in his alterations, +the old scribbler was angry to see his pages defaced, and felt more +pain from the detection than content from the amendment of his +faults. They parted, but Pope always considered him with kindness, +and visited him a little time before he died. Another of his early +correspondents was Mr. Cromwell, of whom I have learned nothing +particular, but that he used to ride a-hunting in a tie-wig. He was +fond, and perhaps vain, of amusing himself with poetry and +criticism, and sometimes sent his performances to Pope, who did not +forbear such remarks as were now and then unwelcome. Pope, in his +turn, put the juvenile version of "Statius" into his hands for +correction. Their correspondence afforded the public its first +knowledge of Pope's epistolary powers, for his letters were given by +Cromwell to one Mrs. Thomas, and she many years afterwards sold them +to Curll, who inserted them in a volume of his "Miscellanies." + +Walsh, a name yet preserved among the minor poets, was one of his +first encouragers. His regard was gained by the pastorals, and from +him Pope received the counsel from which he seems to have regulated +his studies. Walsh advised him to correctness, which, as he told +him, the English poets had hitherto neglected, and which, therefore, +was left to him as a basis of fame; and, being delighted with rural +poems, recommended to him to write a pastoral comedy, like those +which are read so eagerly in Italy, a design which Pope probably did +not approve, as he did not follow it. + +Pope had now declared himself a poet, and, thinking himself entitled +to poetical conversation, began at seventeen to frequent Will's, a +coffee-house on the north side of Russell Street, in Covent Garden, +where the wits of that time used to assemble, and where Dryden had, +when he lived, been accustomed to preside. During this period of +his life he was indefatigably diligent and insatiably curious, +wanting health for violent and money for expensive pleasures, and +having excited in himself very strong desires of intellectual +eminence, he spent much of his time over his books; but he read only +to store his mind with facts and images, seizing all that his +authors presented with undistinguishing voracity, and with an +appetite for knowledge too eager to be nice. In a mind like his, +however, all the faculties were at once involuntarily improving. +Judgment is forced upon us by experience. He that reads many books +must compare one opinion or one style with another; and, when he +compares, must necessarily distinguish, reject, and prefer. But the +account given by himself of his studies was, that from fourteen to +twenty he read only for amusement, from twenty to twenty-seven for +improvement and instruction; that in the first part of his time he +desired only to know, and in the second he endeavoured to judge. + +The Pastorals, which had been for some time handed about among poets +and critics, were at last printed (1709) in Tonson's "Miscellany," +in a volume which began with the Pastorals of Philips, and ended +with those of Pope. The same year was written the "Essay on +Criticism," a work which displays such extent of comprehension, such +nicety of distinction, such acquaintance with mankind, and such +knowledge both of ancient and modern learning, as are not often +attained by the maturest age and longest experience. It was +published about two years afterwards, and, being praised by Addison +in the Spectator, with sufficient liberality, met with so much +favour as enraged Dennis, "who," he says, "found himself attacked, +without any manner of provocation on his side, and attacked in his +person instead of his writings, by one who was wholly a stranger to +him, at a time when all the world knew he was persecuted by fortune; +and not only saw that this was attempted in a clandestine manner, +with the utmost falsehood and calumny, but found that all this was +done by a little, affected hypocrite, who had nothing in his mouth +at the same time but truth, candour, friendship, good-nature, +humanity, and magnanimity. How the attack was clandestine is not +easily perceived, nor how his person is depreciated; but he seems to +have known something of Pope's character, in whom may be discovered +an appetite to talk too frequently of his own virtues. The pamphlet +is such as rage might be expected to dictate. He supposes himself +to be asked two questions; whether the essay will succeed, and who +or what is the author. + +Its success he admits to be secured by the false opinions then +prevalent; the author he concludes to be "young and raw." + +"First, because he discovers a sufficiency beyond his little +ability, and hath rashly undertaken a task infinitely above his +force. Secondly, while this little author struts and affects the +dictatorian air, he plainly shows that at the same time he is under +the rod: and, while he pretends to give laws to others, is a +pedantic slave to authority and opinion. Thirdly, he hath, like +schoolboys, borrowed both from living and dead. Fourthly, he knows +not his own mind, and frequently contradicts himself. Fifthly, he +is almost perpetually in the wrong." + +All these positions he attempts to prove by quotations and remarks; +but his desire to do mischief is greater than his power. He has, +however, justly criticised some passages in these lines:- + + +"There are whom Heaven has blessed with store of wit, +Yet want as much again to manage it: +For wit and judgment ever are at strife--" + + +It is apparent that wit has two meanings, and that what is wanted, +though called wit, is truly judgment. So far Dennis is undoubtedly +right: but not content with argument, he will have a little mirth, +and triumphs over the first couplet in terms too elegant to be +forgotten. "By the way, what rare numbers are here! Would not one +swear that this youngster had espoused some antiquated muse, who had +sued out a divorce on account of impotence, from some superannuated +sinner; and, having been p--d by her former spouse, has got the gout +in her decrepit age, which makes her hobble so damnably?" This was +the man who would reform a nation sinking into barbarity. + +In another place Pope himself allowed that Dennis had detected one +of those blunders which are called "bulls." The first edition had +this line:- + + +"What is this wit - +Where wanted scorned; and envied where acquired?" + + +"How," says the critic, "can wit be scorned where it is not? Is not +this a figure frequently employed in Hibernian land! The person +that wants this wit may indeed be scorned, but the scorn shows the +honour which the contemner has for wit." Of this remark Pope made +the proper use, by correcting the passage. + +I have preserved, I think, all that is reasonable in Dennis's +criticism; it remains that justice be done to his delicacy. "For +his acquaintance," says Dennis, "he names Mr. Walsh, who had by no +means the qualification which this author reckons absolutely +necessary to a critic, it being very certain that he was, like this +essayer a very indifferent poet; he loved to be well dressed; and I +remember a little young gentleman whom Mr. Walsh used to take into +his company as a double foil to his person and capacity. Inquire +between Sunning Hill and Oakingham, for a young, short, equal, +gentleman, the very bow of the God of Love, and tell me whether he +be a proper author to make personal reflections? He may extol the +ancients, but he has reason to thank the gods that he was born a +modern; for had he been born of Grecian parents, and his father +consequently had by law had the absolute disposal of him, his life +had been no longer than that of one of his poems, the life of half a +day. Let the person of a gentleman of his parts be never so +contemptible, his inward man is ten times more ridiculous; it being +impossible that his outward form, though it be that of downright +monkey, should differ so much from human shape as his unthinking, +immaterial part does from human understanding." Thus began the +hostility between Pope and Dennis, which, though it was suspended +for a short time, never was appeased. Pope seems, at first, to have +attacked him wantonly; but though he always professed to despise +him, he discovers, by mentioning him very often, that he felt his +force or his venom. + +Of this essay, Pope declared that he did not expect the sale to be +quick, because "not one gentleman in sixty, even of liberal +education, could understand it." The gentleman, and the education +of that time, seem to have been of a lower character than they are +of this. He mentioned a thousand copies as a numerous impression. + +Dennis was not his only censurer; the zealous Papists thought the +monks treated with too much contempt, and Erasmus too studiously +praised; but to these objections he had not much regard. + +The "Essay," has been translated into French by Hamilton, author of +the "Comte de Grammont," whose version was never printed, by +Robotham, secretary to the king for Hanover, and by Resnel; and +commented by Dr. Warburton, who has discovered in it such order and +connection as was not perceived by Addison, nor, as it is said, +intended by the author. + +Almost every poem, consisting of precepts, is so far arbitrary and +immethodical, that many of the paragraphs may change places with no +apparent inconvenience; for of two or more positions, depending upon +some remote and general principle, there is seldom any cogent reason +why one should precede the other. But for the order in which they +stand, whatever it be, a little ingenuity may easily give a reason. +"It is possible," says Hooker, "that, by long circumduction, from +any one truth all truth may be inferred." Of all homogeneous +truths, at least of all truths respecting the same general end, in +whatever series they may be produced, a concatenation by +intermediate ideas may be formed, such as, when it is once shown, +shall appear natural; but if this order be reversed, another mode of +connection equally spacious may be found or made. Aristotle is +praised for naming fortitude first of the cardinal virtues, as that +without which no other virtue can steadily be practised; but he +might, with equal propriety, have placed prudence and justice before +it; since without prudence fortitude is mad; without justice, it is +mischievous. As the end of method is perspicuity, that series is +sufficiently regular that avoids obscurity; and where there is no +obscurity, it will not be difficult to discover method. + +In the Spectator was published the "Messiah," which he first +submitted to the perusal of Steele, and corrected in compliance with +his criticisms. It is reasonable to infer from his "Letters" that +the verses on the "Unfortunate Lady" were written about the time +when his "Essay" was published. The lady's name and adventures I +have sought with fruitless inquiry. I can therefore tell no more +than I have learned from Mr. Ruffhead, who writes with the +confidence of one who could trust his information. She was a woman +of eminent rank and large fortune, the ward of an uncle, who, having +given her a proper education, expected, like other guardians, that +she should make at least an equal match; and such he proposed to +her, but found it rejected in favour of a young gentleman of +inferior condition. Having discovered the correspondence between +the two lovers, and finding the young lady determined to abide by +her own choice, he supposed that separation might do what can rarely +be done by arguments, and sent her into a foreign country, where she +was obliged to converse only with those from whom her uncle had +nothing to fear. Her lover took care to repeat his vows; but his +letters were intercepted and carried to her guardian, who directed +her to be watched with still greater vigilance, till of this +restraint she grow so impatient that she bribed a woman servant to +procure her a sword, which she directed to her heart. + +From this account, given with evident intention to raise the lady's +character, it does not appear that she had any claim to praise nor +much to compassion. She seems to have been impatient, violent, and +ungovernable. Her uncle's power could not have lasted long; the +hour of liberty and choice would have come in time. But her desires +were too hot for delay, and she liked self-murder better than +suspense. Nor is it discovered that the uncle, whoever he was, is +with much justice delivered to posterity as "a false guardian." He +seems to have done only that for which a guardian is appointed; he +endeavoured to direct his niece till she should be able to direct +herself. Poetry has not often been worse employed than in +dignifying the amorous fiery of a raving girl. + +Not long after he wrote the "Rape of the Lock," the most airy, the +most ingenious, and the most delightful off all his compositions, +occasioned by a frolic of gallantry, rather too familiar, in which +Lord Petre cut off a lock of Mrs. Arabella Fermor's hair. This, +whether stealth or violence, was so much resented that the commerce +of the two families, before very friendly, was interrupted. Mr. +Caryl, a gentleman who, being secretary to King James's queen, had +followed his mistress into France, and who, being the author of Sir +Solomon Single, a comedy, and some translations, was entitled to the +notice of a wit, solicited Pope to endeavour a reconciliation by a +ludicrous poem which might bring both the parties to a better +temper. In compliance with Caryl's request, though his name was for +a long time marked only by the first and last letter, "C--l," a poem +of two cantos, was written (1711), as is said, in a fortnight, and +sent to the offended lady, who liked it well enough to show it; and, +with the usual process of literary transactions, the author, +dreading a surreptitious edition, was forced to publish it. + +The event is said to have been such as was desired, the pacification +and diversion of all to whom it related, except Sir George Brown, +who complained with some bitterness that, in the character of Sir +Plume, he was made to talk nonsense. Whether all this be true I +have some doubt; for at Paris, a few years ago, a niece of Mrs. +Fermor, who presided in an English convent, mentioned Pope's work +with very little gratitude, rather as an insult than an honour; and +she may be supposed to have inherited the opinion of her family. At +its first appearance at was termed by Addison "merum sal." Pope, +however, saw that it was capable of improvement; and, having luckily +contrived to borrow his machinery from the Rosicrucians, imparted +the scheme with which his head was teeming to Addison, who told him +that his work, as it stood, was "a delicious little thing," and gave +him no encouragement to retouch it. + +This has been too hastily considered as an instance of Addison's +jealousy, for, as he could not guess the conduct of the new design, +or the possibilities of pleasure comprised in a fiction of which +there had been no examples, he might very reasonably and kindly +persuade the author to acquiesce in his own prosperity, and forbear +an attempt which he considered as an unnecessary hazard. Addison's +counsel was happily rejected. Pope foresaw the future efflorescence +of imagery then budding in his mind, and resolved to spare no art or +industry of cultivation. The soft luxuriance of his fancy was +already shooting, and all the gay varieties of diction were ready at +his hand to colour and embellish it. His attempt was justified by +its success. The "Rape of the Lock" stands forward, in the classes +of literature, as the most exquisite example of ludicrous poetry. +Berkeley congratulated him upon the display of powers more truly +poetical than he had shown before with elegance of description and +justness of precepts he had now exhibited boundless fertility of +invention. He always considered the intermixture of the machinery +with the action as his most successful exertion of poetical art. +He, indeed, could never afterwards produce anything of such +unexampled excellence. Those performances, which strike with +wonder, are combinations of skilful genius with happy casualty; and +it is not likely that any felicity, like the discovery of a new race +of preternatural agents, should happen twice to the same man. Of +this poem the author was, I think, allowed to enjoy the praise for a +long time without disturbance. Many years afterwards Dennis +published some remarks upon it with very little force and with no +effect; for the opinion of the public was already settled, and it +was no longer at the mercy of criticism. + +About this time he published the "Temple of Fame," which, as he +tells Steele in their correspondence, he had written two years +before--that is, when he was only twenty-two years old, an early +time of life for so much learning and so much observation as that +work exhibits. On this poem Dennis afterwards published some +remarks, of which the most reasonable is that some of the lines +represent motion as exhibited by sculpture. + +Of the Epistle from "Eloisa to Abelard," I do not know the date. +His first inclination to attempt a composition of that tender kind +arose, as Mr. Savage told me, from his perusal of Prior's "Nut-brown +Maid." How much he has surpassed Prior's work it is not necessary +to mention, when perhaps it may be said, with justice, that he has +excelled every composition of the same kind. The mixture of +religious hope and resignation gives an elevation and dignity to +disappointed love, which images merely natural cannot bestow. The +gloom of a convent strikes the imagination with far greater force +than the solitude of a grove. This piece was, however, not much his +favourite in his later years, though I never heard upon what +principle he slighted it. + +In the next year (1713) he published "Windsor Forest," of which part +was, as he relates, written at sixteen, about the same time as his +Pastorals, and the latter part was added afterwards. Where the +addition begins we are not told. The lines relating to the peace +confess their own date. It is dedicated to Lord Lansdowne, who was +then in high reputation and influence among the Tories; and it is +said that the conclusion of the poem gave great pain to Addison, +both as a poet and a politician. Reports like this are often spread +with boldness very disproportionate to their evidence. Why should +Addison receive any particular disturbance from the last lines of +"Windsor Forest"? If contrariety of opinion could poison a +politician, he could not live a day; and, as a poet, he must have +felt Pope's force of genius much more from many other parts of his +works. The pain that Addison might feel it is not likely that he +would confess; and it is certain that he so well suppressed his +discontent that Pope now thought himself his favourite, for, having +been consulted in the revisal of "Cato" he introduced it by a +prologue; and, when Dennis published his remarks, undertook, not +indeed to vindicate, but to revenge his friend, by a "Narrative of +the Frenzy of John Dennis." + +There is reason to believe that Addison gave no encouragement to +this disingenuous hostility, for, says Pope, in a letter to him, +"indeed your opinion, that 'tis entirely to be neglected, would be +my own in my own case; but I felt more warmth here than I did when I +first saw his book against myself (though, indeed, in two minutes it +made me heartily merry)." Addison was not a man on whom such cant +of sensibility could make much impression. He left the pamphlet to +itself, having disowned it to Dennis, and perhaps did not think Pope +to have deserved much by his officiousness. + +This year was printed in the Guardian the ironical comparison +between the pastorals of Philips and Pope, a composition of +artifice, criticism, and literature, to which nothing equal will +easily be found. The superiority of Pope is so ingeniously +dissembled, and the feeble lines of Philips so skilfully preferred, +that Steele, being deceived, was unwilling to print the paper, lest +Pope should be offended. Addison immediately saw the writer's +design, and, as it seems, had malice enough to conceal his +discovery, and to permit a publication which, by making his friend +Philips ridiculous, made him for ever an enemy to Pope. + +It appears that about this time Pope had a strong inclination to +unite the art of painting with that of poetry, and put himself under +the tuition of Jervas. He was near-sighted, and therefore not +formed by nature for a painter; he tried, however, how far he could +advance, and sometimes persuaded his friends to sit. A picture of +Betterton, supposed to be drawn by him, was in the possession of +Lord Mansfield. If this was taken from the life, he must have begun +to paint earlier, for Betterton was now dead. Pope's ambition of +this new art produced some encomiastic verses to Jervas, which +certainly show his power as a poet; but I have been told that they +betray his ignorance of painting. He appears to have regarded +Betterton with kindness and esteem, and after his death published, +under his name, a version into modern English of Chaucer's Prologues +and one of his Tales, which, as was related by Mr. Harte, were +believed to have been the performance of Pope himself by Fenton, who +made him a gay offer of five pounds if he would show them in the +hand of Betterton. + +The next year (1713) produced a bolder attempt, by which profit was +sought as well as praise. The poems which he had hitherto written, +however they might have diffused his name, had made very little +addition to his fortune. The allowance which his father made him, +though, proportioned to what he had, it might be liberal, could not +be large; his religion hindered him from the occupation of any civil +employment; and he complained that he wanted even money to buy +books. He therefore resolved to try how far the favour of the +public extended by soliciting a subscription to a version of the +"Iliad," with large notes. To print by subscription was, for some +time, a practice peculiar to the English. The first considerable +work for which this expedient was employed is said to have been +Dryden's "Virgil," and it had been tried again with great success +when the Tatlers were collected into volumes. + +There was reason to believe that Pope's attempt would be successful. +He was in the full bloom of reputation and was personally known to +almost all whom dignity of employment or splendour of reputation had +made eminent; he conversed indifferently with both parties, and +never disturbed the public with his political opinions; and it might +be naturally expected, as each faction then boasted its literary +zeal, that the great men, who on other occasions practised all the +violence of opposition, would emulate each other in their +encouragement of a poet who delighted all, and by whom none had been +offended. With these hopes, he offered an English "Iliad" to +subscribers, in six volumes in quarto, for six guineas, a sum +according to the value of money at that time by no means +inconsiderable, and greater than I believe to have been ever asked +before. His proposal, however, was very favourably received, and +the patrons of literature were busy to recommend his undertaking and +promote his interest. Lord Oxford, indeed, lamented that such a +genius should be wasted upon a work not original, but proposed no +means by which he might live without it. Addison recommended +caution and moderation, and advised him not to be content with the +praise of half the nation when he might be universally favoured. + +The greatness of the design, the popularity of the author, and the +attention of the literary world, naturally raised such expectations +of the future sale, that the booksellers made their offers with +great eagerness; but the highest bidder was Bernard Lintot, who +became proprietor on condition of supplying, at his own expense, all +the copies which were to be delivered to subscribers, or presented +to friends, and paying two hundred pounds for every volume. + +Of the quartos it was, I believe, stipulated that none should be +printed but for the author, that the subscription might not be +depreciated; but Lintot impressed the same pages upon a small folio, +and paper perhaps a little thinner, and sold exactly at half the +price, for half a guinea each volume, books so little inferior to +the quartos that, by fraud of trade, those folios being afterwards +shortened by cutting away the top and bottom, were sold as copies +printed for the subscribers. + +Lintot printed two hundred and fifty on royal paper in folio for two +guineas a volume; of the small folio, having printed seventeen +hundred and fifty copies of the first volume, he reduced the number +in the other volumes to a thousand. It is unpleasant to relate that +the bookseller, after all his hopes and all his liberality, was, by +a very unjust and illegal action, defrauded of his profit. An +edition of the English "Iliad" was printed in Holland in duodecimo, +and imported clandestinely for the gratification of those who were +impatient to read what they could not yet afford to buy. This fraud +could only be counteracted by an edition equally cheap and more +commodious; and Lintot was compelled to contract his folio at once +into a duodecimo, and lose the advantage of an intermediate +gradation. The notes which in the Dutch copies were placed at the +end of each book as they had been in the large volumes, were now +subjoined to the text in the same page, and are therefore more +easily consulted. Of this edition two thousand five hundred were +first printed, and five thousand a few weeks afterwards; but indeed +great numbers were necessary to produce considerable profit. + +Pope, having now emitted his proposals, and engaged not only his own +reputation but in some degree that of his friends who patronised his +subscription, began to be frightened at his own undertaking, and +finding himself at first embarrassed with difficulties which +retarded and oppressed him, he was for a time timorous and uneasy, +had his nights disturbed by dreams of long journeys through unknown +ways, and wished, as he said, "that somebody would hang him." This +misery, however, was not of long continuance; he grew by degrees +more acquainted with Homer's images and expressions, and practice +increased his facility of versification. In a short time he +represents himself as despatching regularly fifty verses a day, +which would show him by an easy computation, the termination of his +labour. His own diffidence was not his only vexation. He that asks +a subscription soon finds that he has enemies. All who do not +encourage him defame him. He that wants money would rather be +thought angry than poor; and he that wishes to save his money +conceals his avarice by his malice. Addison had hinted his +suspicion that Pope was too much a Tory; and some of the Tories +suspected his principles because he had contributed to the Guardian, +which was carried on by Steele. + +To those who censured his politics were added enemies more +dangerous, who called in question his knowledge of Greek, and his +qualifications for a translator of "Homer." To these he made no +public opposition, but in one of his letters escapes from them as +well as he can. At an age like his, for he was not more than +twenty-five, with an irregular education and a course of life of +which much seems to have passed in conversation, it is not very +likely that he overflowed with Greek. But when he felt himself +deficient he sought assistance, and what man of learning would +refuse to help him? Minute inquiries into the force of words are +less necessary in translating Homer than other poets, because his +positions are general, and his representations natural, with very +little dependence on local or temporary customs, on those changeable +scenes of artificial life, which, by mingling original with +accidental notions and crowding the mind with images which time +effaces, produces ambiguity in dictation and obscurity in books. To +this open display of unadulterated nature it must be ascribed that +Homer has fewer passages of doubtful meaning than any other poet +either in the learned or in modern languages. I have read of a man +who, being by his ignorance of Greek compelled to gratify his +curiosity with the Latin printed on the opposite page, declared that +from the rude simplicity of the lines literally rendered he formed +nobler ideas of the Homeric majesty than from the laboured elegance +of polished versions. Those literal translations were always at +hand, and from them he could easily obtain his author's sense with +sufficient certainty and among the readers of Homer the number is +very small of those who find much in the Greek more than in the +Latin, except the music of the numbers. + +If more help was wanting he had the poetical translation of Eobanus +Hessus, an unwearied writer of Latin verses; he had the French +Homers of La Valterie and Dacier, and the English of Chapman, +Hobbes, and Ogilby. With Chapman, whose work, though now totally +neglected, seems to have been popular almost to the end of the last +century, he had very frequent consultations, and perhaps never +translated any passage till he had read his version, which he indeed +has been sometimes suspected of using instead of the original. +Notes were likewise to be provided, for the six volumes would have +been very little more than six pamphlets without them. What the +mere perusal of the text could suggest Pope wanted no assistance to +collect or methodise; but more was necessary. Many pages were to be +filled, and learning must supply materials to wit and judgment. +Something might be gathered from Dacier, but no man loves to be +indebted to his contemporaries, and Dacier was accessible to common +readers. Eustathius was therefore necessarily consulted. To read +Eustathius, of whose work there was then no Latin version, I suspect +Pope if he had been willing not to have been able. Some other was +therefore to be found who had leisure as well as abilities, and he +was doubtless most readily employed who would do much work for +little money. + +The history of the notes has never been traced. Broome, an his +preface to his poems, declares himself the commentator "in part upon +the 'Iliad,'" and it appears from Fenton's letter, preserved in the +Museum, that Broome was at first engaged in consulting Eustathius; +but that after a time, whatever was the reason, he desisted. +Another man of Cambridge was then employed, who soon grew weary of +the work, and a third, that was recommended by Thirlby, is now +discovered to have been Jortin, a man since well known to the +learned world, who complained that Pope, having accepted and +approved his performance, never testified any curiosity to see him, +and who professed to have forgotten the terms on which he worked. +The terms which Fenton uses are very mercantile: "I think at first +sight that his performance is very commendable, and have sent word +for him to finish the seventeenth book, and to send it with his +demands for his trouble. I have here enclosed the specimen; if the +rest come before the return, I will keep them till I receive your +order." + +Broome then offered his service a second time, which was probably +accepted, as they had afterwards a closer correspondence. Parnell +contributed the "Life of Homer," which Pope found so harsh, that he +took great pains in correcting it; and by his own diligence, with +such help as kindness or money could procure him, in somewhat more +than five years he completed his version of the "Iliad," with the +notes. He began it in 1712, his twenty-fifth year, and concluded it +in 1718, his thirtieth year. When we find him translating fifty +lines a day, it is natural to suppose that he would have brought his +work to a more speedy conclusion. The "Iliad," containing less than +sixteen thousand verses, might have been despatched in less than +three hundred and twenty days by fifty verses in a day. The notes, +compiled with the assistance of his mercenaries, could not be +supposed to require more time than the text. According to this +calculation, the progress of Pope may seem to have been slow; but +the distance is commonly very great between actual performances and +speculative possibility. It is natural to suppose, that as much as +has been done to-day may be done to-morrow; but on the morrow some +difficulty emerges, or some external impediment obstructs. + +Indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure, all take their +turns of retardation; and every long work is lengthened by a +thousand causes that can, and ten thousand that cannot, be +recounted. Perhaps no extensive and multifarious performance was +ever effected within the term originally fixed in the undertaker's +mind. He that runs against time has an antagonist not subject to +casualties. + +The encouragement given to this translation, though report seems to +have overrated it, was such as the world has not often seen. The +subscribers were five hundred and seventy-five. The copies, for +which subscriptions were given, were six hundred and fifty-four; and +only six hundred and sixty were printed. For these copies Pope had +nothing to pay. He therefore received, including the two hundred +pounds a volume, five thousand three hundred and twenty pounds, four +shillings, without deduction, as the books were supplied by Lintot. + +By the success of his subscription Pope was relieved from those +pecuniary distresses with which, notwithstanding his popularity, he +had hitherto struggled. Lord Oxford had often lamented his +disqualification for public employment, but never proposed a +pension. While the translation of "Homer" was in its progress, Mr. +Craggs, then Secretary of State, offered to procure him a pension, +which, at least during his ministry, might be enjoyed with secrecy. +This was not accepted by Pope, who told him, however, that, if he +should be pressed with want of money, he would send to him for +occasional supplies. Craggs was not long in power, and was never +solicited for money by Pope, who disdained to beg what he did not +want. + +With the product of this subscription, which he had too much +discretion to squander, he secured his future life from want, by +considerable annuities. The estate of the Duke of Buckingham was +found to have been charged with five hundred pounds a year, payable +to Pope, which doubtless his translation enabled him to purchase. + +It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity, that I deduce thus +minutely the history of the English "Iliad." It is certainly the +noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen, and its +publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events +in the annals of learning. To those who have skill to estimate the +excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very +desirable to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it +advanced to correctness. Of such an intellectual process the +knowledge has very rarely been attainable; but happily there remains +the original copy of the "Iliad," which, being obtained by +Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him to Mallet, and is +now, by the solicitation of the late Dr. Maty, reposited in the +Museum. Between this manuscript, which is written upon accidental +fragments of paper, and the printed edition, there must have been an +intermediate copy, that was perhaps destroyed as it returned from +the press. + +From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall +exhibit first the printed lines; then, in a small print, those of +the manuscripts, with all their variations. Those words in the +small print, which are given in italics, are cancelled in the copy, +and the words placed under them adopted in their stead: + +The beginning of the first book stands thus:- + + + The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring +Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing, +That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign +The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain. + + The stern Pelides' rage, O Goddess, sing, + wrath + Of all the woes of Greece too fatal spring, + Grecian + That screwed with warriors dead the Phrygian plain, + heroes + And peopled the dark with heroes slain: + filled the shady hell with chiefs untimely + +Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore, +Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore, +Since great Achilles and Atrides strove; +Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove. + + Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore, + Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore, + Since first Atrides and Achilles strove; + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove. + +Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour +Sprung the fierce strife from what offended Power? +Latona's son a dire contagion spread, +And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead; + +The King of Men his reverend priest defied, +And for the King's offence the people died. + + Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power + Enflamed their rage in that ill-omened hour; + anger fatal, hapless + Phoebus himself the dire debate procured, + fierce + To avenge the wrongs his injured priest endured; + For this the god a dire infection spread, + And heaped the camp with millions of the dead: + The King of men the sacred sire defied, + And for the King's offence the people died. + +For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain +His captive daughter from the Victor's chain; +Suppliant the venerable father stands, +Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands, +By these he begs, and, lowly bending down, +Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown. + + For Chryses sought by presents to regain + costly gifts to gain + His captive daughter from the Victor's chain; + Suppliant the venerable father stands, + Apollo's awful ensigns graced his hands. + By these he begs, and, lowly bending down + The golden sceptre and the laurel crown, + Presents the sceptre + For these as ensigns of his god he bare, + The god who sends his golden shaft afar; + Then low on earth the venerable man, + Suppliant before the brother kings began. + +He sued to all, but chief implored for grace, +The brother kings of Atreus' royal race; +Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crowned, +And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground; +May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er, +Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. + + To all he sued, but chief implored for grace + The brother kings of Atreus' royal race. + Ye sons of Atreus, may your vows be crowned, + kings and warriors + Your labours, by the gods be all your labours crowned; + So may the gods your arms with conquest bless, + And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground; + Till laid + And crown your labours with desired success; + May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. + +But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain, +And give Chryses to these arms again; +If mercy fail, yet let my present move, +And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove. + + But, oh! relieve a hapless parent's pain, + And give my daughter to these arms again; + Receive my gifts, if mercy fails, yet let my present move, + And fear the god who deals his darts around, + avenging Phoebus, son of Jove. + +The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare, +The priest to reverence, and release the fair: +Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride, +Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied. + + He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare, + The father said, the generous Greeks relent, + To accept the ransom, and restore the fair: + Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent; + Not so the tyrant; he, with kingly pride, + Atrides, + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied + [Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN.] + + +Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there +was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with +interlineations. + +The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed +page, and is therefore set down without any parallel. The few +slight differences do not require to be elaborately displayed. + + + Now pleasing sleep had sealed each mortal eye: +Stretched in the tents the Grecian leaders lie; +The Immortals slumbered on their thrones above, +All but the ever-wakeful eye of Jove. +To honour Thetis' son he bends his care, +And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war. +Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight, +And thus commands the vision of the night: + directs +Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air, +To Agamemnon's royal tent repair; +Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train, +March all his legions to the dusty plain. +Now tell the King 'tis given him to destroy +Declare even now +The lofty walls of wide-extended Troy; + towers +For now no more the gods with fate contend; +At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. +Destruction hovers o'er yon devoted wall, + hangs +And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. + + +Invocation to the catalogue of ships. + + +Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine, +All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine! +Since earth's wide regions, heaven's unmeasured height, +And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight + (We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below, +But guess by rumour, and but boast we know), +Oh! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame, +Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came! +To count them all demands a thousand tongues, +A throat of brass and adamantine lungs. + + Now virgin goddesses, immortal nine! + That round Olympus' heavenly summit shine, + Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound, + And all things know, and all things can resound! + Relate what armies sought the Trojan land, + What nations followed, and what chiefs command; + (For doubtful fame distracts mankind below, + And nothing can we tell, and nothing know) + Without your aid, to count the unnumbered train, +A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain. + + +Book V. v. 1. + + + But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires, +Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires: +Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise, +And crown her hero with distinguished praise, +High on his helm celestial lightnings play, +His beamy shield emits a living ray; +The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, +Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies. + But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires, +Fills with her rage, and warms with all her fires; + force +O'er all the Greeks decrees his fame to raise, +Above the Greeks her warrior's fame to raise, + his deathless +And crown her hero with immortal praise: + distinguished +Bright from his beamy crest the lightnings play, + High on helm +From his broad buckler flashed the living ray; +High on his helm celestial lightnings play, +His beamy shield emits a living ray; +The goddess with her breath the flame supplies, +Bright as the star whose fires in autumn rise; +Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies, +Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies: +The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, +Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies. + +When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, +And bathed in ocean shoots a keener light, +Such glories Pallas on the chief bestowed, +Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flowed; +Onward she drives him, furious to engage, +Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage. + + When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, + And gilds old ocean with a blaze of light, + Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies, + Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and skies: + Such glories Pallas on her chief bestowed, + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed, + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed, + Onward she drives him headlong to engage, + furious + Where the war bleeds, and where the fiercest rage. + fight burns, thickest + +The sons of Dares first the combat sought, +A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; +In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led, +The sons to toils of glorious battle bred; + + There lived a Trojan--Dares was his name, + The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame; + The sons of Dares first the combat sought, + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault. + + +Conclusion of Book VIII. v. 687. + + +As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, +O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, +When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, +And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene; +Around her throne the vivid planets roll, +And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole: +O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, +And tip with silver every mountain's head: +Then shine the vales--the rocks in prospect rise, +A flood of glory bursts from all the skies; +The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, +Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. +So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, +And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays; +The long reflections of the distant fires +Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires. +A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, +And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field; +Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, +Whose umbered arms by fits thick flashes send; +Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn, +And ardent warriors wait the rising morn. + + As when in stillness of the silent night, + As when the moon in all her lustre bright, + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, + O'er Heaven's clear azure sheds her silver light; + pure spreads sacred + As still in air the trembling lustre stood, + And o'er its golden border shoots a flood; + When no loose gale disturbs the deep serene, + not a breath + And no dim cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene; + not a + Around her silver throne the planets glow, + And stars unnumbered trembling beams bestow; + Around her throne the vivid planets roll, + And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole: + Clear gleams of light o'er the dark trees are seen, + o'er the dark trees a yellow sheds + O'er the dark trees a yellower green they shed, + gleam + verdure + And tip with silver all the mountain heads + forest + And tip with silver every mountain's head. + The valleys open, and the forests rise, + The vales appear, the rocks in prospect rise, + Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, + All nature stands revealed before our eyes; + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies. + The conscious shepherd, joyful at the sight, + Eyes the blue vault, and numbers every light. + The conscious swains rejoicing at the sight, + shepherds gazing with delight + Eye the blue vault, and bless the vivid light. + glorious + useful + So many flames before the navy blaze, + proud Ilion + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays, + Wide o'er the fields to Troy extend the gleams, + And tip the distant spires with fainter beams; + The long reflections of the distant fires + Gild the high walls, and tremble on the spires; + Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires; + A thousand fires at distant stations bright, + Gild the dark prospect, and dispel the night. + + +Of these specimens every man who has cultivated poetry, or who +delights to trace the mind from the rudeness of its first +conceptions to the elegance of its last, will naturally desire a +great number; but most other readers are already tired, and I am not +writing only to poets and philosophers. + +The "Iliad" was published volume by volume, as the translation +proceeded. The four first books appeared in 1713. The expectation +of this work was undoubtedly high, and every man who had connected +his name with criticism or poetry was desirous of such intelligence +as might enable him to talk upon the popular topic. Halifax, who, +by having been first a poet, and then a patron of poetry, had +acquired the right of being a judge, was willing to hear some books +while they were yet unpublished. Of this rehearsal Pope afterwards +gave the following account:- + +"The famous Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to taste than really +possessed of it. When I had finished the two or three first books +of my translation of the 'Iliad,' that lord desired to have the +pleasure of hearing them read at his house. Addison, Congreve, and +Garth were there at the reading. In four or five places Lord +Halifax stopped me very civilly, and with a speech each time of much +the same kind, 'I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope, but there is something +in that passage that does not please me. Be so good as to mark the +place, and consider it a little at your leisure. I am sure you can +give it a little turn.' I returned from Lord Halifax's with Dr. +Garth in his chariot, and as we were going along was saying to the +Doctor that my lord had laid me under a great deal of difficulty by +such loose and general observations; that I had been thinking over +the passages almost ever since, and could not guess at what it was +that offended his lordship in either of them. Garth laughed +heartily at my embarrassment: said I had not been long enough +acquainted with Lord Halifax to know his way yet; that I need not +puzzle myself about looking those places over and over when I got +home. 'All you need do,' says he, 'is to leave them just as they +are, call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him for +his kind observations on those passages, and then read them to him +as altered. I have known him much longer than you have, and will be +answerable for the event.' I followed his advice, waited on Lord +Halifax some time after; said I hoped he would find his objections +to those passages removed; read them to him exactly as they were at +first; and his lordship was extremely pleased with them, and cried +out, 'Ay, now they are perfectly right; nothing can be better.'" + +It is seldom that the great or the wise suspect that they are +despised or cheated. Halifax, thinking this a lucky opportunity of +securing immortality, made some advances of favour and some +overtures of advantage to Pope, which he seems to have received with +sullen coldness. All our knowledge of this transaction is derived +from a single letter (December 1, 1714), in which Pope says, "I am +obliged to you, both for the favours you have done me and those you +intend me. I distrust neither your will nor your memory when it is +to do good; and if I ever become troublesome or solicitous, it must +not be out of expectation, but out of gratitude. Your lordship may +cause me to live agreeably in the town, or contentedly in the +country, which is really all the difference I set between an easy +fortune and a small one. It is indeed a high strain of generosity +in you to think of making me easy all my life, only because I have +been so happy as to divert you some few hours; but, if I may have +leave to add it is because you think me no enemy to my native +country, there will appear a better reason; for I must of +consequence be very much (as I sincerely am) yours, &c." + +These voluntary offers, and this faint acceptance, ended without +effect. The patron was not accustomed to such frigid gratitude; and +the poet fed his own pride with the dignity of independence. They +probably were suspicious of each other. Pope would not dedicate +till he saw at what rate his praise was valued; he would be +"troublesome out of gratitude, not expectation." Halifax thought +himself entitled to confidence, and would give nothing unless he +knew what he should receive. Their commerce had its beginning in +hope of praise on one side and of money on the other, and ended +because Pope was less eager of money than Halifax of praise. It is +not likely that Halifax had any personal benevolence to Pope; it is +evident that Pope looked on Halifax with scorn and hatred. + +The reputation of this great work failed of gaining him a patron but +it deprived him of a friend. Addison and he were now at the head of +poetry and criticism, and both in such a state of elevation that, +like the two rivals in the Roman State, one could no longer bear an +equal, nor the other a superior. Of the gradual abatement of +kindness between friends, the beginning is often scarcely +discernible to themselves, and the process is continued by petty +provocations, and incivilities sometimes peevishly returned, and +sometimes contemptuously neglected, which would escape all attention +but that of pride, and drop from any memory but that of resentment. +That the quarrel of these two wits should be minutely deduced is not +to be expected from a writer to whom, as Homer says, "nothing but +rumour has reached, and who has no personal knowledge." + +Pope doubtless approached Addison, when the reputation of their wit +first brought them together, with the respect due to a man whose +abilities were acknowledged, and who, having attained that eminence +to which he was himself aspiring, had in his hands the distribution +of literary fame. He paid court with sufficient diligence by his +prologue to "Cato," by his abuse of Dennis, and with praise yet more +direct, by his poem on the "Dialogues on Medals," of which the +immediate publication was then intended. In all this there was no +hypocrisy for he confessed that he found in Addison something more +pleasing than in any other man. + +It may be supposed that, as Pope saw himself favoured by the world, +and more frequently compared his own powers with those of others, +his confidence increased, and his submission lessened; and that +Addison felt no delight from the advances of a young wit, who might +soon contend with him for the highest place. Every great man, of +whatever kind be his greatness, has among his friends those who +officiously or insidiously quicken his attention to offences, +heighten his disgust, and stimulate his resentment. Of such +adherents Addison doubtless had many; and Pope was now too high to +be without them. From the emission and reception of the proposals +for the "Iliad," the kindness of Addison seems to have abated. +Jervas the painter once pleased himself (August 20,1714) with +imagining that he had re-established their friendship, and wrote to +Pope that Addison once suspected him of too close a confederacy with +Swift, but was now satisfied with his conduct. To this Pope +answered, a week after, that his engagements to Swift were such as +his services in regard to the subscription demanded, and that the +Tories never put him under the necessity of asking leave to be +grateful. "But," says he, "as Mr. Addison must be the judge in what +regards himself, and seems to have no very just one in regard to me, +so I must own to you I expect nothing but civility from him." In +the same letter he mentions Philips, as having been busy to kindle +animosity between them; but in a letter to Addison he expresses some +consciousness of behaviour, inattentively deficient in respect. + +Of Swift's industry in promoting the subscription there remains the +testimony of Kennet, no friend to either him or Pope. + +"November 2, 1713, Dr. Swift came into the coffee-house, and had a +bow from everybody but me, who, I confess, could not but despise +him. When I came to the antechamber to wait, before prayers, Dr. +Swift was the principal man of talk and business, and acted as +master of requests. Then he instructed a young nobleman that the +BEST POET IN ENGLAND was Mr. Pope (a papist), who had begun a +translation of 'Homer' into English verse, for which HE MUST HAVE +THEM ALL SUBSCRIBE: for, says he, the author SHALL NOT begin to +print till _I_ HAVE a thousand guineas for him." + +About this time it is likely that Steele, who was, with all his +political fury, good-natured and officious, procured an interview +between these angry rivals, which ended in aggravated malevolence. +On this occasion, if the reports be true, Pope made his complaint +with frankness and spirit, as a man undeservedly neglected or +opposed; and Addison affected a contemptuous unconcern, and in a +calm, even voice reproached Pope with his vanity, and, telling him +of the improvements which his early works had received from his own +remarks and those of Steele, said that he, being now engaged in +public business, had no longer any care for his poetical reputation, +nor had any other desire with regard to Pope than that he should +not, by too much arrogance, alienate the public. + +To this Pope is said to have replied with great keenness and +severity, upbraiding Addison with perpetual dependence, and with the +abuse of those qualifications which he had obtained at the public +cost, and charging him with mean endeavours to obstruct the progress +of rising merit. The contest rose so high that they parted at last +without any interchange of civility. + +The first volume of "Homer" was (1715) in time published; and a +rival version of the first "Iliad," for rivals the time of their +appearance inevitably made them, was immediately printed, with the +name of Tickell. It was soon perceived that, among the followers of +Addison, Tickell had the preference, and the critics and poets +divided into factions. "I," says Pope, "have the town, that is, the +mob, on my side; but it is not uncommon for the smaller party to +supply by industry what it wants in numbers. I appeal to the people +as my rightful judges, and, while they are not inclined to condemn +me, shall not fear the high-flyers at Button's." This opposition he +immediately imputed to Addison, and complained of it in terms +sufficiently resentful to Craggs, their common friend. + +When Addison's opinion was asked, he declared the versions to be +both good, but Tickell's the best that had ever been written; and +sometimes said that they were both good, but that Tickell had more +of "Homer." + +Pope was now sufficiently irritated; his reputation and his interest +were at hazard. He once intended to print together the four +versions of Dryden, Maynwaring, Pope, and Tickell, that they might +be readily compared and fairly estimated. This design seems to have +been defeated by the refusal off Tonson, who was the proprietor of +the other three versions. + +Pope intended, at another time, a rigorous criticism of Tickell's +translation, and had marked a copy, which I have seen, in all places +that appeared defective. But while he was thus meditating defence +or revenge, his adversary sunk before him without a blow; the voice +of the public was not long divided, and the preference universally +given to Pope's performance. He was convinced, by adding one +circumstance to another, that the other translation was the work of +Addison himself; but, if he knew it in Addison's lifetime, it does +not appear that he told it. He left his illustrious antagonist to +lie punished by what has been considered as the most painful of all +reflections--the remembrance of a crime perpetrated in vain. The +other circumstances of their quarrel were thus related by Pope:- + +"Philips seemed to have been encouraged to abuse me in coffee-houses +and conversations, and Gildon wrote a thing about Wycherley, in +which he had abused both me and my relations very grossly. Lord +Warwick himself told me one day that it was in vain for me to +endeavour to be well with Mr. Addison; that his jealous temper would +never admit of a settled friendship between us; and, to convince me +of what he had said, assured me that Addison had encouraged Gildon +to publish those scandals, and had given him ten guineas after they +were published. The next day, while I was heated with what I had +heard, I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was +not unacquainted with this behaviour of his; that if I was to speak +severely of him in return for it, it should not be in such a dirty +way; that I should rather tell him himself fairly of his faults, and +allow his good qualities; and that it should be something in the +following manner. I then adjoined the first sketch of what has +since been called my satire on Addison. Mr Addison used me very +civilly ever after." + +The verses on Addison, when they were sent to Atterbury, were +considered by him as the most excellent of Pope's performances; and +the writer was advised, since he knew where his strength lay, not to +suffer it to remain unemployed. This year (1715), being by the +subscription enabled to live more by choice, having persuaded his +father to sell their estate at Binfield, he purchased, I think only +for his life, that house at Twickenham to which his residence +afterwards procured so much celebration, and removed thither with +his father and mother. Here he planted the vines and the quincunx +which his verses mention; and being under the necessity of making a +subterraneous passage to a garden on the other side of the road, he +adorned it with fossil bodies, and dignified it with the title of a +grotto; a place of silence and retreat, from which he endeavoured to +persuade his friends and himself that cares and passions could be +excluded. + +A grotto is not often the wish or pleasure of all Englishmen, who +has more frequent need to solicit than exclude the sun; but Pope's +excavation was requisite as an entrance to his garden; and, as some +men try to be proud of their defects, he extracted an ornament from +an inconvenience, and vanity produced a grotto where necessity +enforced a passage. It may be frequently remarked of the studious +and speculative, that they are proud of trifles, and that their +amusements seem frivolous and childish. Whether it be that men, +conscious of great reputation, think themselves above the reach of +censure, and safe in the admission of negligent indulgences, or that +mankind expect from elevated genius a uniformity of greatness, and +watch its degradation with malicious wonder, like him who, having +followed with his eye an eagle into the clouds, should lament that +she ever descended to a perch. + +While the volumes of his "Homer" were annually published, he +collected his former works (1717) into one quarto volume, to which +he prefixed a preface, written with great sprightliness and +elegance, which was afterwards reprinted, with some passages +subjoined that he at first omitted. Other marginal additions of the +same kind he made in the later editions of his poems. Waller +remarks, that poets lose half their praise, because the reader knows +not what they have blotted. Pope's voracity of fame taught him the +art of obtaining the accumulated honour both of what he had +published, and of what he had suppressed. In this year his father +died suddenly, in his seventy-fifth year, having passed twenty-nine +years in privacy. He is not known but by the character which his +son has given him. If the money with which he retired was all +gotten by himself, he had traded very successfully in times when +sudden riches were rarely attainable. + +The publication of the "Iliad" was at last completed in 1720. The +splendour and success of this work raised Pope many enemies that +endeavoured to depreciate his abilities. Burnet, who was afterwards +a judge of no mean reputation, censured him in a piece called +"Homerides" before it was published. Ducket likewise endeavoured to +make him ridiculous. Dennis was the perpetual persecutor of all his +studies. But whoever his critics were, their writings are lost, and +the names, which are preserved are preserved in the "Dunciad." + +In this disastrous year (1720) of national infatuation, when more +riches than Peru can boast were expected from the South Sea, when +the contagion of avarice tainted every mind, and even poets panted +after wealth, Pope was seized with the universal passion, and +ventured some of his money. The stock rose in its price, and for a +while he thought himself the lord of thousands. But this dream of +happiness did not last long, and he seems to have waked soon enough +to get clear with the loss of what he once thought himself to have +won, and perhaps not wholly of that. + +Next year he published some select poems of his friend Dr. Parnell, +with a very elegant dedication to the Earl of Oxford, who, after all +his struggles and dangers, then lived in retirement, still under the +frown of a victorious faction, who could take no pleasure in hearing +his praise. He gave the same year (1721) an edition of Shakespeare. +His name was now of so much authority that Tonson thought himself +entitled, by annexing it, to demand a subscription of six guineas +for Shakespeare's plays in six quarto volumes. Nor did his +expectation much deceive him, for, of seven hundred and fifty which +he printed, he dispersed a great number at the price proposed. The +reputation of that edition indeed, sunk, afterwards so low, that one +hundred and forty copies were sold at sixteen shillings each. On +this undertaking, to which Pope was induced by a reward of two +hundred and seventeen pounds twelve shillings, he seems never to +have reflected afterwards without vexation; for Theobald a man of +heavy diligence, with very slender powers, first, in a book called +"Shakespeare Restored," and then in a formal edition, detected his +deficiencies with all the insolence of victory; and as he was now +high enough to be feared and hated, Theobald had from others all the +help that could be supplied, by the desire of humbling a haughty +character. From this time Pope became an enemy to editors, +collators, commentators, and verbal critics, and hoped to persuade +the world that he miscarried in this undertaking only by having a +mind too great for such minute employment. + +Pope in his edition undoubtedly did many things wrong, and left many +things undone; but let him not be defrauded of his due praise. He +was the first that knew, at least the first that told, by what helps +the text might be improved. If he inspected the early editions +negligently, he taught others to be more accurate. In his preface +he expanded with great skill and elegance the character which had +been given of Shakespeare by Dryden; and he drew the public +attention upon his works, which, though often mentioned, had been +little read. Soon after the appearance of the "Iliad," resolving +not to let the general kindness cool, he published proposals for a +translation of the "Odyssey," in five volumes, for five guineas. He +was willing, however, now to have associates in his labour, being +either weary with toiling upon another's thoughts, or having heard, +as Ruffhead relates, that Fenton and Broome had already begun the +work, and liking better to have them confederates than rivals. In +the patent, instead of saying that he had "translated" the +"Odyssey," as he had said of the "Iliad," he says that he had +"undertaken" a translation: and in the proposals, the subscription +is said to be not solely for his own use, but for that of "two of +his friends who have assisted him in his work." + +In 1723, while he was engaged in this new version, he appeared +before the Lords at the memorable trial of Bishop Atterbury, with +whom he had lived in great familiarity, and frequent correspondence. +Atterbury had honestly recommended to him the study of the Popish +controversy, in hope of his conversion; to which Pope answered in a +manner that cannot much recommend his principles or his judgment. +In questions and projects of learning they agree better. He was +called at the trial to give an account of Atterbury's domestic life +and private employment, that it might appear how little time he had +left for plots. Pope had but few words to utter, and in those few +he made several blunders. + +His letters to Atterbury express the utmost esteem, tenderness, and +gratitude. "Perhaps," says he, "it is not only in this world that I +may have cause to remember the Bishop of Rochester." At their last +interview in the Tower, Atterbury presented him with a Bible. + +Of the "Odyssey" Pope translated only twelve books. The rest were +the work of Broome and Fenton: the notes were written wholly by +Broome, who was not over liberally rewarded. The public was +carefully kept ignorant of the several shares; and an account was +subjoined at the conclusion which is now known not to be true. The +first copy of Pope's books, with those of Fenton, are to be seen in +the Museum. The parts of Pope are less interlined than the "Iliad," +and the latter books of the "Iliad" less than the former. He grew +dexterous by practice, and every sheet enabled him to write the next +with more facility. The books of Fenton have very few alterations +by the hand of Pope. Those of Broome have not been found, but Pope +complained, as it is reported, that he had much trouble in +correcting them. His contract with Lintot was the same as for the +"Iliad," except that only one hundred pounds were to be paid him for +each volume. The number of subscribers were five hundred and +seventy-four, and of copies eight hundred and nineteen, so that his +profit, when he had paid his assistants, was still very +considerable. The work was finished in 1723; and from that time he +resolved to make no more translations. The sale did not answer +Lintot's expectation, and he then pretended to discover something of +a fraud in Pope, and commenced or threatened a suit in Chancery. + +On the English "Odyssey" a criticism was published by Spence, at +that time Prelector of Poetry at Oxford, a man whose learning was +not very great, and whose mind was not very powerful. His +criticism, however, was commonly just; what he thought he thought +rightly, and his remarks were recommended by his coolness and +candour. In him Pope had the first experience of a critic without +malevolence, who thought it as much his duty to display beauties as +expose faults, who censured with respect, and praised with alacrity. +With this criticism Pope was so little offended, that he sought the +acquaintance of the writer, who lived with him from that time in +great familiarity, attended him in his last hours, and compiled +memorials of his conversation. The regard of Pope recommended him +to the great and powerful, and he obtained very valuable preferments +in the Church. Not long after Pope was returning home from a visit +in a friend's coach, which, in passing a bridge, was overturned into +the water; the window's were closed, and, being unable to force them +open, he was in danger of immediate death, when the postillion +snatched him out by breaking the glass, of which the fragments cut +two of his fingers in such a manner that he lost their use. + +Voltaire, who was then in England, sent him a letter of consolation. +He had been entertained by Pope at his table, where he talked with +so much grossness that Mrs. Pope was driven from the room. Pope +discovered, by a trick, that he was a spy for the Court, and never +considered him as a man worthy of confidence. He soon afterwards +(1727) joined with Swift, who was then in England, to publish three +volumes of "Miscellanies," in which, amongst other things, he +inserted the "Memoirs of a Parish Clerk," in ridicule of Burnet's +importance in his own history, and a "Debate upon Black and White +Horses," written in all the formalities of a legal process by the +assistance, as is said, of Mr. Fortescue, afterwards Master of the +Rolls. Before these "Miscellanies" is a preface signed by Swift and +Pope, but apparently written by Pope, in which he makes a ridiculous +and romantic complaint of the robberies committed upon authors by +the clandestine seizure and sale of their papers. He tells in +tragic strains how "the cabinets of the sick and the closets of the +dead have been broken open and ransacked," as if those violences +were often committed for papers of uncertain and accidental value +which are rarely provoked by real treasures--as if epigrams and +essays were in danger where gold and diamonds are safe. A cat +hunted for his musk is, according to Pope's account, but the emblem +of a wit winded by booksellers. His complaint, however, received +some attestation, for the same year the letters written by him to +Mr. Cromwell in his youth were sold by Mrs. Thomas to Curll, who +printed them. + +In these "Miscellanies" was first published the "Art of Sinking in +Poetry," which, by such a train of consequences as usually passes in +literary quarrels, gave in a short time, according to Pope's +account, occasion to the "Dunciad." + +In the following year (1728) he began to put Atterbury's advice in +practice, and showed his satirical powers by publishing the +"Dunciad," one of his greatest and most elaborate performances, in +which he endeavoured to sink into contempt all the writers by whom +he had been attacked, and some others whom he thought unable to +defend themselves. At the head of the "Dunces" he placed poor +Theobald, whom he accused of ingratitude, but whose real crime was +supposed to be that of having revised Shakespeare more happily than +himself. This satire had the effect which he intended, by blasting +the characters which it touched. Ralph, who, unnecessarily +interposing in the quarrel, got a place in a subsequent edition, +complained that for a time he was in danger of starving, as the +booksellers had no longer any confidence in his capacity. The +prevalence of this poem was gradual and slow: the plan, if not +wholly new, was little understood by common readers. Many of the +allusions required illustration; the names were often expressed only +by the initial and final letters, and if they had been printed at +length were such as few had known or recollected. The subject +itself had nothing generally interesting, for whom did it concern to +know that one or another scribbler was a dunce? If, therefore, it +had been possible for those who were attacked to conceal their pain +and their resentment, the "Dunciad" might have made its way very +slowly in the world. This, however, was not to be expected: every +man is of importance to himself, and therefore, in his own opinion, +to others; and, supposing the world already acquainted with all his +pleasures and his pains, is perhaps the first to publish injuries or +misfortunes, which had never been known unless related by himself, +and at which those that hear them will only laugh, for no man +sympathises with the sorrows of vanity. + +The history of the "Dunciad" is very minutely related by Pope +himself in a dedication which he wrote to Lord Middlesex in the name +of Savage. + +"I will relate the war of the 'Dunces' (for so it has been commonly +called), which began in the year 1727, and ended in 1730 + +"When Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope thought it proper, for reasons +specified in the preface to their 'Miscellanies,' to publish such +little pieces of theirs as had occasionally got abroad, there was +added to them the 'Treatise of the Bathos, or the Art of Sinking in +Poetry.' It happened that in one chapter of this piece the several +species of bad poets were ranged in classes, to which were prefixed +almost all the letters of the alphabet (the greatest part of them at +random); but such was the number of poets eminent in that art, that +some one or other took every letter to himself. All fell into so +violent a fury, that, for half a year or more, the common newspapers +(in most of which they had some property, as being hired writers) +were filled with the most abusive falsehoods and scurrilities they +could possibly devise, a liberty no way to be wondered at in those +people, and in those papers, that, for many years during the +uncontrolled license of the Press, had aspersed almost all the great +characters of the age; and this with impunity, their own persons and +names being utterly secret and obscure. This gave Mr. Pope the +thought that he had now some opportunity of doing good by detecting +and dragging into light these common enemies of mankind, since, to +invalidate this universal slander, it sufficed to show what +contemptible men were the authors of it. He was not without hopes +that, by manifesting the dulness of those who had only malice to +recommend them, either the booksellers would not find their account +in employing them, or the men themselves, when discovered, want +courage to proceed in so unlawful an occupation. This it was that +gave birth to the 'Dunciad,' and he thought it a happiness that, by +the late flood of slander on himself, he had acquired such a +peculiar right over their names as was necessary to this design. + +"On the 12th of March, 1729, at St. James's, that poem was presented +to the king and queen (who had before been pleased to read it) by +the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole, and some days after the +whole impression was taken and dispersed by several noblemen and +persons of the first distinction. + +It is certainly a true observation that no people are so impatient +of censure as those who are the greatest slanderers, which was +wonderfully exemplified on this occasion. On the day the book was +first vended a crowd of authors besieged the shop; entreaties, +advices, threats of law and battery--nay, cries of treason--were all +employed to hinder the coming out of the 'Dunciad.' On the other +side, the booksellers and hawkers made as great efforts to procure +it. What could a few poor authors do against so great a majority as +the public? There was no stopping a torrent with a finger, so out +it came. + +"Many ludicrous circumstances attended it. The 'Dunces' (for by +this name they were called) held weekly clubs, to consult of +hostilities against the author. One wrote a letter to a great +minister, assuring him Mr. Pope was the greatest enemy the +Government had, and another bought his image in clay to execute him +in effigy, with which sad sort of satisfaction the gentlemen were a +little comforted. Some false editions of the book, having an owl in +their frontispiece, the true one, to distinguish it, fixed in his +stead an ass laden with authors. Then another surreptitious one +being printed with the same ass, the new edition in octavo returned +for distinction to the owl again. Hence arose a great contest of +booksellers against booksellers, and advertisements against +advertisements, some recommending the edition of the owl, and others +the edition of the ass, by which names they came to be +distinguished, to the great honour also of the gentlemen of the +'Dunciad.'" + +Pope appears by this narrative to have contemplated his victory over +the "Dunces" with great exultation; and such was his delight in the +tumult which he had raised, that for a while his natural sensibility +was suspended, and he read reproaches and invectives without +emotion, considering them only as the necessary effects of that pain +which he rejoiced in having given. It cannot, however, be concealed +that, by his own confession, he was the aggressor, for nobody +believes that the letters in the "Bathos" were placed at random; and +at may be discovered that, when he thinks himself concealed, he +indulges the common vanity of common men, and triumphs in those +distinctions which he affected to despise. He is proud that his +book was presented to the king and queen by the Right Honourable Sir +Robert Walpole; he is proud that they had read it before; he is +proud that the edition was taken off by the nobility and persons of +the first distinction. The edition of which he speaks was, I +believe, that which, by telling in the text the names, and in the +notes the characters, of those whom he had satirised, was made +intelligible and diverting. The critics had now declared their +approbation of the plan, and the common reader began to like it +without fear. Those who were strangers to petty literature, and +therefore unable to decipher initials and blanks, had now names and +persons brought within their view, and delighted in the visible +effects of those shafts of malice which they had hitherto +contemplated as shot into the air. + +Dennis, upon the fresh provocation now given him, renewed the enmity +which had for a time been appeased by mutual civilities, and +published remarks, which he had till then suppressed, upon the "Rape +of the Lock." Many more grumbled in secret, or vented their +resentment in the newspapers by epigrams or invectives. Ducket, +indeed, being mentioned as loving Burnet with "pious passion," +pretended that his moral character was injured, and for some time +declared his resolution to take vengeance with a cudgel. But Pope +appeased him, by changing "pious passion" to "cordial friendship," +and by a note, in which he vehemently disclaims the malignity of the +meaning imputed to the first expression. Aaron Hill, who was +represented as diving for the prize, expostulated with Pope in a +manner so much superior to all mean solicitation, that Pope was +reduced to sneak and shuffle, sometimes to deny, and sometimes to +apologies; he first endeavours to wound, and is then afraid to own +that he meant a blow. + +The "Dunciad," in the complete edition, is addressed to Dr. Swift. +Of the notes, part were written by Dr. Arbuthnot, and an +apologetical letter was prefixed, signed by Cleland, but supposed to +have been written by Pope. + +After this general war upon dulness, he seems to have indulged +himself a while in tranquillity, but his subsequent productions +prove that he was not idle. He published (1731) a poem on "Taste," +in which he very particularly and severely criticises the house, the +furniture, the gardens, and the entertainments of Timon, a man of +great wealth and little taste. By Timon he was universally +supposed, and by the Earl of Burlington, to whom the poem is +addressed, was privately said, to mean the Duke of Chandos, a man +perhaps too much delighted with pomp and show, but of a temper kind +and beneficent, and who had consequently the voice of the public in +his favour. A violent outcry was, therefore, raised against the +ingratitude and treachery of Pope, who was said to have been +indebted to the patronage of Chandos for a present of a thousand +pounds, and who gained the opportunity of insulting him by the +kindness of his invitation. The receipt of the thousand pounds Pope +publicly denied; but from the reproach which the attack on a +character so amiable brought upon him, he tried all means of +escaping. The name of Cleland was again employed in an apology, by +which no man was satisfied, and he was at last reduced to shelter +his temerity behind dissimulation, and endeavour to make that +disbelieved which he never had confidence openly to deny. He wrote +an exculpatory letter to the duke, which was answered with great +magnanimity, as by a man who accepted his excuse without believing +his professions. He said that to have ridiculed his taste, or his +buildings, had been an indifferent action in another man, but that +in Pope, after the reciprocal kindness that had been exchanged +between them, it had been less easily excused. + +Pope, in one of his letters, complaining of the treatment which his +poem had found, "owns that such critics can intimidate him, nay +almost persuade him, to write no more, which is a compliment this +age deserves." The man who threatens the world is always +ridiculous, for the world can easily go on without him, and in a +short time will cease to miss him. I have heard of an idiot, who +used to revenge his vexatious by lying all night upon the bridge. +"There is nothing," says Juvenal, "that a man will not believe in +his own favour." Pope had been flattered till he thought himself +one of the moving powers in the system of life. When he talked of +laying down his pen, those who sat round him entreated and implored; +and self-love did not suffer him to suspect that they went away and +laughed. + +The following year deprived him of Gay, a man whom he had known +early, and whom he seemed to love with more tenderness than any +other of his literary friends. Pope was now forty-four years old, +an age at which the mind begins less easily to admit new confidence, +and the will to grow less flexible, and when, therefore, the +departure of an old friend is very acutely felt. In the next year +(1733) he lost his mother, not by an unexpected death, for she had +lasted to the age of ninety-three. But she did not die unlamented. +The filial piety of Pope was in the highest degree amiable and +exemplary. His parents had the happiness of living till he was at +the summit of poetical reputation, till he was at ease in his +fortune, and without a rival in his fame, and found no diminution of +his respect or tenderness. Whatever was his pride, to them he was +obedient; and whatever was his irritability, to them he was gentle. +Life has, among its soothing and quiet comforts, few things better +to give than such a son. + +One of the passages of Pope's life, which seems to deserve some +inquiry, was a publication of "Letters" between him and many of his +friends, which, falling into the hands of Curll, a rapacious +bookseller, of no good fame, were by him printed and sold. This +volume containing some letters from noblemen, Pope incited a +prosecution against him in the House of Lords for breach of +privilege, and attended himself to stimulate the resentment of his +friends. Curll appeared at the bar, and, knowing himself in no +great danger, spoke of Pope with very little reverence. "He has," +said Curll, "a knack at versifying, but in prose I think myself a +match for him." When the orders of the House were examined, none of +them appeared to have been infringed. Curll went away triumphant, +and Pope was left to seek some other remedy. + +Curll's account was, that one evening a man in a clergyman's gown, +but with a lawyer's band, brought and offered for sale a number of +printed volumes, which he found to be Pope's epistolary +correspondence; that he asked no name, and was told none, but gave +the price demanded, and thought himself authorised to use his +purchase to his own advantage. That Curll gave a true account of +the transaction it is reasonable to believe, because no falsehood +was ever detected; and when, some years afterwards, I mentioned it +to Lintot, the son of Bernard, he declared his opinion to be, that +Pope knew better than anybody else how Curll obtained the copies, +because another parcel was at the same time sent to himself, for +which no price had ever been demanded, as he made known his +resolution not to pay a porter, and consequently not to deal with a +nameless agent. Such care had been taken to make them public, that +they were sent at once to two booksellers; to Curll, who was likely +to seize them as a prey, and to Lintot, who might he expected to +give Pope information of the seeming injury. Lintot, I believe, did +nothing, and Curll did what was expected. That to make them public +was the only purpose may be reasonably supposed, because the numbers +offered to sale by the private messengers showed that the hope of +gain could not have been the motive of the impression. It seems +that Pope, being desirous of printing his "Letters," and not knowing +how to do, without imputation of vanity, what has in this country +been done very rarely, contrived an appearance of compulsion, that, +when he could complain that his "Letters" were surreptitiously +published, he might decently and defensively publish them himself. + +Pope's private correspondence, thus promulgated, filled the nation +with the praises of his candour, tenderness, and benevolence, the +purity of his purposes, and the fidelity of his friendship. There +were some letters which a very good or a wise man would wish +suppressed; but, as they had been already exposed, it was +impracticable now to retract them. From the perusal of those +letters, Mr. Allen first conceived the desire of knowing him; and +with so much zeal did he cultivate the friendship which he had newly +formed, that, when Pope told his purpose of vindicating his own +property by a genuine edition, he offered to pay the cost. This, +however, Pope did not accept; but in time solicited a subscription +for a quarto volume, which appeared (1737), I believe, with +sufficient profit. In the preface he tells that his letters were +reposited in a friend's library, said to be the Earl of Oxford's, +and that the copy thence stolen was sent to the press. The story +was doubtless received with different degrees of credit. It may be +suspected that the preface to the "Miscellanies" was written to +prepare the public for such an incident; and, to strengthen this +opinion, James Worsdale, a painter, who was employed in clandestine +negotiations, but whose voracity was very doubtful, declared that he +was the messenger who carried, by Pope's direction, the books to +Curll. When they were thus published and avowed, as they had +relation to recent facts, and persons either then living or not yet +forgotten, they may be supposed to have found readers; but, as the +facts were minute, and the characters being either private or +literary, were little known, or little regarded, they awaked no +popular kindness or resentment. The book never became much the +subject of conversation. Some read it as a contemporary history, +and some perhaps as a model of epistolary language; but those who +read it did not talk of it. Not much therefore was added by it to +fame or envy, nor do I remember that it produced either public +praise or public censure. It had, however, in some degree, the +recommendation of novelty. Our language had few letters, except +those of statesmen. Howel, indeed, about a century ago, published +his "Letters," which are commended by Morhoff, and which alone, of +his hundred volumes, continue his memory. Loveday's "Letters" were +printed only once; those of Herbert and Suckling are hardly known. +Mrs. Phillips's (Orinda's) are equally neglected. And those of +Walsh seem written as exercises, and were never sent to any living +mistress or friend. Pope's epistolary excellence had an open field; +he had no English rival, living or dead. + +Pope is seen in this collection as connected with the other +contemporary wits, and certainly suffers no disgrace in the +comparison; but it must be remembered that he had the power of +favouring himself. He might have originally had publication in his +mind, and have written with care, or have afterwards selected those +which he had most happily conceived or most diligently laboured; and +I know not whether there does not appear something more studied and +artificial in his productions than the rest, except one long letter +by Bolingbroke, composed with all the skill and industry of a +professed author. It is indeed not easy to distinguish affectation +from habit; he that has once studiously formed a style, rarely +writes afterwards with complete ease. Pope may be said to write +always with his reputation in his head; Swift, perhaps, like a man +that remembered he was writing to Pope; but Arbuthnot, like one who +lets thoughts drop from his pen as they rise into his mind. Before +these "Letters" appeared he published the first part of what he +persuaded himself to think a system of Ethics, under the title of an +"Essay on Man," which, if his letter to Swift (of September 14, +1723), be rightly explained by the commentator, had been eight years +under his consideration, and of which he seems to have desired the +success with great solicitude. He had now many open, and doubtless +many secret, enemies. The "Dunces" were yet smarting from the war, +and the superiority which he publicly arrogated disposed the world +to wish his humiliation. All this he knew, and against all this he +provided. His own name, and that of his friend to whom the work is +inscribed, were in the first editions carefully suppressed; and the +poem being of a new kind was ascribed to one or another as favour +determined or conjecture wandered. It was given, says Warburton, to +every man except him only who could write it. Those who like only +when they like the author, and who are under the dominion of a name, +condemned it, and those admired it who are willing to scatter praise +at random, which, while it is unappropriated, excites no envy. +Those friends of Pope that were trusted with the secret went about +lavishing honours on the new-born poet, and hinting that Pope was +never so much in danger from any former rival. To those authors +whom he had personally offended, and to those whose opinion the +world considered as decisive, and whom he suspected of envy or +malevolence, he sent his Essay as a present before publication, that +they might defeat their own enemity by praises which they could not +afterwards decently retract. With these precautions, in 1733, was +published the first part of the "Essay on Man." There had been for +some time a report that Pope was busy upon a "System of Morality," +but this design was not discovered in the new poem, which had a form +and a title with which its readers were unacquainted. Its reception +was not uniform. Some thought it a very imperfect piece, though not +without good lines. While the author was unknown, some, as will +always happen, favoured him as an adventurer, and some censured him +as an intruder, but all thought him above neglect. The sale +increased, and editions were multiplied. The subsequent editions of +the first epistle exhibited two memorable corrections. At first, +the poet and his friend + + +"Expatiate freely o'er this scene of man, +A mighty maze OF WALKS WITHOUT A PLAN;" + + +for which he wrote afterwards, + + +"A mighty maze, BUT NOT WITHOUT A PLAN;" + + +for if there was no plan it was in vain to describe or to trace the +maze. + +The other alteration was of these lines:- + + +"And spike of pride, AND IN THY REASON'S SPITE, +One truths is clear, whatever is, is right: + + +but having afterwards discovered, or been shown, that the "truth" +which subsisted "in spite of reason" could not be very "clear," he +substituted + + +"And spite of pride IN ERRING REASON'S SPITE." + + +To such oversights will the most vigorous mind be liable when it is +employed at once upon argument and poetry. + +The second and third epistles were published, and Pope was, I +believe, more and more suspected of writing them. At last, in 1734, +he avowed the fourth, and claimed the honour of a moral poet. In +the conclusion it is sufficiently acknowledged that the doctrine of +the "Essay on Man" was received from Bolingbroke, who is said to +have ridiculed Pope, among those who enjoyed his confidence, as +having adopted and advanced principles of which he did not perceive +the consequence, and as blindly propagating opinions contrary to his +own. That those communications had been consolidated into a scheme +regularly drawn, and delivered to Pope, from whom it returned only +transformed from prose to verse, has been reported, but hardly can +be true. The essay plainly appears the fabric of a poet; what +Bolingbroke supplied could be only the first principles, the order, +illustration, and embellishments, must all be Pope's. These +principles it is not my business to clear from obscurity, dogmatism, +or falsehood, but they were not immediately examined. Philosophy +and poetry have not often the same readers; and the essay abounded +in splendid amplifications and sparkling sentences, which were read +and admired with no great attention to their ultimate purpose. Its +flowers caught the eye, which did not see what the gay foliage +concealed, and for a time flourished in the sunshine of universal +approbation. So little was any evil tendency discovered, that, as +innocence is unsuspicious, many read it for a manual of piety. Its +reputation soon invited a translator. It was first turned into +French prose, and afterwards by Resnel into verse. Both +translations fell into the hands of Crousaz, who first, when he had +the version in prose, wrote a general censure, and afterwards +reprinted Resnel's version, with particular remarks upon every +paragraph. + +Crousaz was a professor of Switzerland, eminent for his treatise of +logic, and his "Examen de Pyrrhonisme," and, however little known or +regarded here, was no mean antagonist. His mind was one of those in +which philosophy and piety are happily united. He was accustomed to +argument and disquisition, and perhaps was grown too desirous of +detecting faults, but his intentions were always right, his opinions +were solid, and his religion pure. His incessant vigilance for the +promotion of piety disposed him to look with distrust upon all +metaphysical systems of theology, and all schemes of virtue and +happiness purely rational; and therefore it was not long before he +was persuaded that the positions of Pope, as they terminated for the +most part in natural religion, were intended to draw mankind away +from revelation, and to represent the whole course of things as a +necessary concatenation of indissoluble fatality, and it is +undeniable that in many passages a religious eye may easily discover +expressions not very favourable to morals or to liberty. + +About this time Warburton began to make his appearance in the first +ranks of learning. He was a man of vigorous faculties, a mind +fervid and vehement, supplied by incessant and unlimited inquiry, +with wonderful extent and variety of knowledge, which yet had not +oppressed his imagination nor clouded his perspicacity. To every +work he brought a memory full fraught, together with a fancy fertile +of original combinations and at once exerted the powers of the +scholar, the reasoner, and the wit. But his knowledge was too +multifarious to be always exact, and his pursuits were too eager to +be always cautions. His abilities gave him a haughty confidence, +which he disdained to conceal or mollify, and his impatience of +opposition disposed him to treat his adversaries with such +contemptuous superiority as made his readers commonly his enemies, +and excited against the advocate the wishes of some who favoured the +cause. He seems to have adopted the Roman Emperor's determination, +oderint dum metuant; he used no allurements of gentle language, but +wished to compel rather than persuade. His style is copious without +selection, and forcible without neatness. He took the words that +presented themselves. His diction is coarse and impure, and his +sentences are unmeasured. He had in the early part of his life +pleased himself with the notice of inferior wits, and corresponded +with the enemies of Pope. A letter was produced, when he had +perhaps himself forgotten it, in which he tells Concanen, "Dryden, I +observe, borrows for want of leisure, and Pope for want of genius, +Milton out of pride, and Addison out of modesty." And when Theobald +published Shakespeare, in opposition to Pope, the best notes were +supplied by Warburton. But the time was now come when Warburton was +to change his opinion, and Pope was to find a defender in him who +had contributed so much to the exaltation of his rival. + +The arrogance of Warburton excited against him every artifice of +offence, and therefore it may be supposed that his union with Pope +was censured as hypocritical inconstancy, but surely to think +differently at different times of poetical merit may be easily +allowed. Such opinions are often admitted, and dismissed without +nice examination. Who is there that has not found reason for +changing his mind about questions of greater importance? + +Warburton, whatever was his motive, undertook, without solicitation, +to rescue Pope from the talons of Crousaz, by freeing him from the +imputation of favouring fatality or rejecting revelation; and from +month to month continued a vindication of the "Essay on Man," in the +literary journal of that time called the "Republic of Letters." + +Pope, who probably began to doubt the tendency of his own work, was +glad that the positions, of which he perceived himself not to know +the full meaning, could by any mode of interpretation be made to +mean well. How much he was pleased with his gratuitous defender the +following letter evidently shows:- + + +"April 11, 1739. + +"Sir,--I have just received from Mr. R. two more of your letters. +It is in the greatest hurry imaginable that I write this; but I +cannot help thanking you in particular for your third letter, which +is so extremely clear, short, and full, that I think Mr. Crousaz +ought never to have another answer, and deserved not so good an one. +I can only say, you do him too much honour, and me too much right, +so odd as the expression seems; for you have made my system as clear +as I ought to have done, and could not. It is indeed the same +system as mine, but illustrated with a ray of your own, as they say +our natural body is the same still when it is glorified. I am sure +I like it better than I did before, and so will every man else. I +know I meant just what you explain; but I did not explain my own +meaning so well as you. You understand me as well as I do myself; +but you express me better than I could express myself. Pray accept +the sincerest acknowledgments. I cannot but wish these letters were +put together in one book, and intend (with your leave) to procure a +translation of part at least, or of all of them, into French; but I +shall not proceed a step without your consent and opinion," &c. + + +By this fond and eager acceptance of an exculpatory comment Pope +testified that, whatever might be the seeming or real import of the +principles which he had received from Bolingbroke, he had not +intentionally attacked religion; and Bolingbroke, if he meant to +make him, without his own consent, an instrument of mischief, found +him now engaged, with his eyes open, on the side of truth. It is +known that Bolingbroke concealed from Pope his real opinions. He +once discovered them to Mr. Hooke, who related them again to Pope, +and was told by him that he must have mistaken the meaning of what +he heard: and Bolingbroke, when Pope's uneasiness incited him to +desire an explanation, declared that Hooke had misunderstood him. + +Bolingbroke hated Warburton, who had drawn his pupil from him; and a +little before Pope's death they had a dispute, from which they +parted with mutual aversion. From this time Pope lived in the +closest intimacy with his commentator, and amply rewarded his +kindness and his zeal, for he introduced him to Mr. Murray, by whose +interest he became preacher at Lincoln's Inn, and to Mr. Allen, who +gave him his niece and his estate, and by consequence a bishopric. +When he died, he left him the property of his works, a legacy which +may be reasonably estimated at four thousand pounds. + +Pope's fondness for the "Essay on Man" appeared by his desire of its +propagation. Dobson, who had gained reputation by his version of +Prior's "Solomon," was employed by him to translate it into Latin +verse, and was for that purpose some time at Twickenham; but he left +his work, whatever was the reason, unfinished; and, by Benson's +invitation, undertook the longer task of "Paradise Lost." Pope then +desired his friend to find a scholar who should turn his essay into +Latin prose; but no such performance has ever appeared. + +Pope lived at this time AMONG THE GREAT, with that reception and +respect to which his works entitled him, and which he had not +impaired by any private misconduct or factious partiality. Though +Bolingbroke was his friend, Walpole was not his enemy, but treated +him with so much consideration as, at his request, to solicit and +obtain from the French Minister an abbey for Mr. Southcot, whom he +considered himself as obliged to reward, by his exertion of his +interest, for the benefit which he had received from his attendance +in a long illness. It was said, that when the Court was at +Richmond, Queen Caroline had declared her intention to visit him. +This may have been only a careless effusion, thought on no more. +The report of such notice, however, was soon in many mouths; and, if +I do not forget or misapprehend Savage's account, Pope, pretending +to decline what was not yet offered, left his house for a time, not, +I suppose, for any other reason than lest he should be thought to +stay at home in expectation of an honour which would not be +conferred. He was therefore angry at Swift, who represents him as +"refusing the visits of a queen," because he knew that what had +never been offered had never been refused. + +Beside the general system of morality, supposed to be contained in +the "Essay on Man," it was his intention to write distinct poems +upon the different duties or conditions of life, one of which is the +"Epistle to Lord Bathurst" (1733) on the "Use of Riches," a piece on +which he declared great labour to have been bestowed. Into this +poem some hints are historically thrown, and some known characters +are introduced, with others of which it is difficult to say how far +they are real or fictitious: but the praise of Kryle, the Man of +Ross, deserves particular examination, who, after a long and pompous +enumeration of his public works and private charities, is said to +have diffused all those blessings from five hundred a year. Wonders +are willingly told and willingly heard. The truth is, that Kyrle +was a man of known integrity and active benevolence, by whose +solicitation the wealthy were persuaded to pay contributions to his +charitable schemes. This influence he obtained by an example of +liberality exerted to the utmost extent of his power, and was thus +enabled to give more than he had. This account Mr. Victor received +from the minister of the place, and I have preserved it, that the +praise of a good man, being made more credible, may be more solid. +Narrations of romantic and impracticable virtue will be read with +wonder, but that which is unattainable is recommended in vain; that +good may be endeavoured it must be shown to be possible. This is +the only piece in which the author has given a hint of his religion, +by ridiculing the ceremony of burning the Pope, and by mentioning +with some indignation the inscription on the Monument. + +When this poem was first published, the dialogue having no letters +of direction was perplexed and obscure. Pope seems to have written +with no very distinct idea, for he calls that an "Epistle to +Bathurst," in which Bathurst is introduced as speaking. He +afterwards (1734) inscribed to Lord Cobham his "Characters of Men," +written with close attention to the operations of the mind and +modifications of life. In this poem he has endeavoured to establish +and exemplify his favourite theory of the RULING PASSION, by which +he means an original direction of desire to some particular object, +an innate affection which gives all action a determinate and +invariable tendency, and operates upon the whole system of life, +either openly, cut more secretly by the intervention of some +accidental or subordinate propension. Of any passion, thus innate +and irresistible, the existence may reasonably be doubted. Human +characters are by no means constant; men change by change of place, +of fortune, of acquaintance. He who is at one time a lover of +pleasure, is at another a lover of money. Those, indeed, who attain +any excellence commonly spend life in one pursuit, for excellence is +not often gained upon easier terms. But to the particular species +of excellence men are directed, not by an ascendant planet or +predominating humour, but by the first book which they read, some +early conversation which they heard, or some accident which excited +ardour and emulation. It must at least be allowed that this ruling +passion, antecedent to reason and observation, must have an object +independent on human contrivance, for there can be no natural desire +of artificial good. No man, therefore, can be born, in the strict +acceptation, a lover of money, for he may be born where money does +not exist; nor can he be born in a moral sense a lover of his +country, for society politically regulated is a state +contradistinguished from a state of nature, and any attention to +that coalition of interests which makes the happiness of a country +is possible only to those whom inquiry and reflection have enabled +to comprehend it. This doctrine is in itself pernicious as well as +false; its tendency is to produce the belief of a kind of moral +predestination or over-ruling principle which cannot be resisted. +He that admits it is prepared to comply with every desire that +caprice or opportunity shall excite, and to flatter himself that he +submits only to the lawful dominion of nature in obeying the +resistless authority of his ruling passion. + +Pope has formed his theory with so little skill that in the examples +by which he illustrates and confirms it he has confounded passions, +appetites, and habits. To the "Characters of Men" he added soon +after, in an epistle supposed to have been addressed to Martha +Blount, but which the last edition has taken from her, the +"Characters of Women." This poem, which was laboured with great +diligence and in the author's opinion with great success, was +neglected at its first publication, as the commentator supposes, +because the public was informed by an advertisement that it +contained no character drawn from the life, an assertion which Pope +probably did not expect nor wished to have been believed, and which +he soon gave his readers sufficient reason to distrust, by telling +them in a note that the work was imperfect because part of his +subject was vice too high to be yet exposed. The time, however, +soon came in which it was safe to display the Duchess of Marlborough +under the name of Atossa, and her character was inserted with no +great honour to the writer's gratitude. + +He published from time to time (between 1730 and 1740) imitations of +different poems of Horace, generally with his name, and once, as was +suspected, without it. What he was upon moral principles ashamed to +own he ought to have suppressed. Of these pieces it is useless to +settle the dates, as they had seldom much relation to the times, and +perhaps had been long in his hands. This mode of imitation, in +which the ancients are familiarised by adapting their sentiments to +modern topics, by making Horace say of Shakespeare what he +originally said of Ennius, and accommodating his satires on +Pantolabus and Nomentanus to the flatterers and prodigals of our own +time, was first practised in the reign of Charles the Second, by +Oldham and Rochester, at least I remember no instances more ancient. +It is a kind of middle composition between translation and original +design, which pleases when the thoughts are unexpectedly applicable, +and the parallels lucky. It seems to have been Pope's favourite +amusement, for he has carried it farther than any former poet. He +published likewise a revival, in smoother numbers, of Dr. Donne's +"Satires," which was recommended to him by the Duke of Shrewsbury +and the Earl of Oxford. They made no great impression on the +public. Pope seems to have known their imbecility and therefore +suppressed them while he was yet contending to rise in reputation, +but ventured them when he thought their deficiencies more likely to +be imputed to Donne than to himself. + +The "Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot," which seems to be derived in its +first design from Boileau's Address a son Esprit, was published in +January, 1735, about a month before the death of him to whom it is +inscribed. It is to be regretted that either honour or pleasure +should have been missed by Arbuthnot, a man estimable for his +learning, amiable for his life, and venerable for his piety. +Arbuthnot was a man of great comprehension, skilful in his +profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with ancient +literature, and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright +and active imagination; a scholar with great brilliance of wit, a +wit who, in the crowd of life, retained and discovered a noble +ardour of religious zeal. In this poem Pope seems to reckon with +the public. He vindicates himself from censures, and with dignity +rather than arrogance enforces his own claims to kindness and +respect. Into this poem are interwoven several paragraphs which had +been before printed, as a fragment, and among them the satirical +lines upon Addison, of which the last couplet has been twice +corrected. It was at first - + + +"Who would not smile if such a man there be? +Who would not laugh if Addison were he?" + + +Then - + + +"Who would not grieve if such a man there be? +Who would not laugh if Addison were he?" + + +At last it is - + + +"Who but must laugh if such a man there he? +Who would not weep if Atticus were he?" + + +He was at this time at open war with Lord Hervey, who had +distinguished himself as a steady adherent to the ministry, and +being offended with a contemptuous answer to one of his pamphlets, +had summoned Pulteney to a duel. Whether he or Pope made the first +attack perhaps cannot now be easily known. He had written an +invective against Pope, whom he calls, "Hard as thy heart, and as +thy birth obscure;" and hints that his father was a hatter. To this +Pope wrote a reply in verse and prose. The verses are in this poem, +and the prose, though it was never sent, is printed among his +letters; but to a cool reader of the present time exhibits nothing +but tedious malignity. + +His last "Satires" of the general kind, were two Dialogues, named, +from the year in which they were published, "Seventeen hundred and +thirty-eight." In these poems many are praised and many reproached. +Pope was then entangled in the opposition, a follower of the Prince +of Wales, who dined at his house, and the friend of many who +obstructed and censured the conduct of the ministers. His political +partiality was too plainly shown; he forgot the prudence with which +he passed, in his earlier years, uninjured and unoffending, through +much more violent conflicts of faction. In the first Dialogue, +having an opportunity of praising Allen of Bath, he asked his leave +to mention him as a man not illustrious by any merit of his +ancestors, and called him in his verses "low-born Allen." Men are +seldom satisfied with praise introduced or followed by any mention +of defect. Allen seems not to have taken any pleasure in his +epithet, which was afterwards softened into "humble Allen." In the +second Dialogue he took some liberty with one of the Foxes among +others; which Fox in a reply to Lyttelton, took an opportunity of +repaying, by reproaching him with the friendship of a lampooner, who +scattered his ink without fear or decency, and against whom he hoped +the resentment of the Legislature would quickly be discharged. + +About this time Paul Whitehead, a small poet, was summoned before +the Lords for a poem called "Manners," together with Dodsley, his +publisher. Whitehead, who hung loose upon society, skulked and +escaped, but Dodsley's shop and family made his appearance +necessary. He was, however, soon dismissed, and the whole process +was probably intended rather to intimidate Pope than to punish +Whitehead. + +Pope never afterwards attempted to join the patriot with the poet, +nor drew his pen upon statesmen. That he desisted from his attempts +of reformation is imputed by his commentator to his despair of +prevailing over the corruption of the time. He was not likely to +have been ever of opinion that the dread of his satire would +countervail the love of power or of money; he pleased himself with +being important and formidable, and gratified sometimes his pride, +and sometimes his resentment, till at last he began to think he +should be more safe if he were less busy. + +The "Memoirs of Scriblerus," published about this time, extend only +to the first book of a work projected in concert by Pope, Swift, and +Arbuthnot, who used to meet on the time of Queen Anne, and +denominated themselves the "Scriblerus Club." Their purpose was to +censure the abuses of learning by a fictitious life of an infatuated +scholar. They were dispersed; the design was never completed, and +Warburton laments its miscarriage as an event very disastrous to +polite letters. If the whole may be estimated by this specimen, +which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot, with a few touches +perhaps by Pope, the want of more will not be much lamented; for the +follies which the writer ridicules are so little practised that they +are not known; nor can the satire be understood but by the learned. +He raises phantoms of absurdity, and then drives them away. He +cures diseases that were never felt. For this reason this joint +production of three great writers has never obtained any notice from +mankind. It has been little read, or when read has been forgotten, +as no man could be wiser, better, or merrier, by remembering it. +The design cannot boast of much originality; for, besides its +general resemblance to "Don Quixote," there will be found in it +particular imitations of the "History of Mr. Ouffle." + +Swift carried so much of it into Ireland as supplied him with hints +for his "Travels;" and with those the world might have been +contented, though the rest had been suppressed. + +Pope had sought for images and sentiments in a region not known to +have been explored by many other of the English writers. He had +consulted the modern writers of Latin poetry, a class of authors +whom Boileau endeavoured to bring into contempt, and who are too +generally neglected. Pope, however, was not ashamed of their +acquaintance, nor ungrateful for the advantages which he might have +derived from it. A small selection from the Italians, who wrote in +Latin, had been published at London, about the latter end of the +last century, by a man who concealed his name, but whom his preface +shows to have been qualified for his undertaking. This collection +Pope amplified by more than half, and (1740) published it in two +volumes, but injuriously omitted his predecessor's preface. To +these books, which had nothing but the mere text, no regard was +paid; the authors were still neglected, and the editor was neither +praised nor censured. He did not sink into idleness; he had planned +a work, which he considered as subsequent to his "Essay on Man," of +which he has given this account to Dr. Swift:- + + +"March 25, 1736. + +"If ever I write any more Epistles in verse, one of them shall be +addressed to you. I have long concerted it and begun it; but I +would make what bears your name as finished as my last work ought to +be, that is to say, more finished than any of the rest. The subject +is large, and will divide into four Epistles, which naturally follow +the 'Essay on Man,' viz: 1. Of the Extent and Limits of Human +Reason and Science. 2. A view of the useful and therefore +attainable, and of the unuseful and therefore unattainable Arts. 3. +Of the Nature, Ends, Application, and Use, of different Capacities. +4. Of the Use of Learning, of the Science, of the World, and of Wit. +It will conclude with a satire against the misapplication of all +these, exemplified by Pictures, Characters, and Examples." + + +This work in its full extent--being now afflicted with an asthma, +and finding the powers of life gradually declining--he had no longer +courage to undertake; but, from the materials which he had provided, +he added, at Warburton's request, another book to the "Dunciad," of +which the design is to ridicule such studies as are either hopeless +or useless, as either pursue what is unattainable, or what, if it be +attained, is of no use. When this book was printed (1742) the +laurel had been for some time upon the head of Cibber, a man whom it +cannot be supposed that Pope could regard with much kindness or +esteem, though in one of the imitations of Horace he has liberally +enough praised the "Careless Husband." In the "Dunciad," among +other worthless scribblers, he had mentioned Cibber, who, in his +"Apology," complains of the great Poet's unkindness as more +injurious, "because," says he, "I never have offended him." + +It might have been expected that Pope should have been in some +degree mollified by this submissive gentleness, but no such +consequence appeared. Though he condescended to commend Cibber +once, he mentioned him afterwards contemptuously in one of his +satires, and again in his "Epistle to Arbuthnot," and in the fourth +book of the "Dunciad" attacked him with acrimony, to which the +provocation is not easily discoverable. Perhaps he imagined that, +in ridiculing the Laureate, he satirised those by whom the laurel +had been given, and gratified that ambitious petulance with which he +affected to insult the great. The severity of this satire left +Cibber no longer any patience. He had confidence enough in his own +powers to believe that he could disturb the quiet of his adversary, +and doubtless did not want instigators, who, without any care about +the victory, desired to amuse themselves by looking on the contest. +He therefore gave the town a pamphlet, in which he declares his +resolution from that time never to bear another blow without +returning it, and to tire out his adversary by perseverance if he +cannot conquer him by strength. + +The incessant and unappeasable malignity of Pope he imputes to a +very distant cause. After the Three Hours After Marriage had been +driven off the stage, by the offence which the mummy and crocodile +gave the audience, while the exploded scene was yet fresh in memory, +it happened that Cibber played Bayes in the Rehearsal; and, as it +had been usual to enliven the part by the mention of any recent +theatrical transactions, he said, that he once thought to have +introduced his lovers disguised in a mummy and a crocodile. "This," +says he, "was received with loud claps, which indicated contempt for +the play." Pope, who was behind the scenes, meeting him as he left +the stage, attacked him, as he says, with all the virulence of a +"wit out of his senses;" to which he replied, "that he would take no +other notice of what was said by so particular a man, than to +declare, that as often as he played that part he would repeat the +same provocation." He shows his opinion to be that Pope was one of +the authors of the play which he so zealously defended, and adds an +idle story of Pope's behaviour at a tavern. + +The pamphlet was written with little power of thought or language, +and, if suffered to remain without notice, would have been very soon +forgotten. Pope had now been enough acquainted with human life to +know, if his passion had not been too powerful for his +understanding, that, from a contention like his with Cibber, the +world seeks nothing but diversion, which is given at the expense of +the higher character. When Cibber lampooned Pope, curiosity was +excited. What Pope would say of Cibber nobody inquired, but in hope +that Pope's asperity might betray his pain and lessen his dignity. +He should therefore have suffered the pamphlet to flutter and die, +without confessing that it stung him. The dishonour of being shown +as Cibber's antagonist could never be compensated by the victory. +Cibber had nothing to lose. When Pope had exhausted all his +malignity upon him, he would rise in the esteem both of his friends +and his enemies. Silence only could have made him despicable; the +blow which did not appear to be felt would have been struck in vain. +But Pope's irascibility prevailed, and he resolved to tell the whole +English world that he was at war with Cibber; and, to show that he +thought him to common adversary, he prepared no common vengeance. +He published a new edition of the "Dunciad," in which he degraded +Theobald from his painful pre-eminence, and enthroned Cibber in his +stead. Unhappily the two heroes were of opposite characters, and +Pope was unwilling to lose what he had already written. He has +therefore depraved his poem by giving to Cibber the old books, the +old pedantry, and the sluggish pertinacity of Theobald. + +Pope was ignorant enough of his own interest to make another change, +and introduced Osborne contending for a prize among the booksellers. +Osborne was a man entirely destitute of shame, without sense of any +disgrace but that of poverty. He told me, when he was doing that +which raised Pope's resentment, that he should be put into the +"Dunciad;" but he had the fate of Cassandra. I gave no credit to +his prediction, till in time I saw it accomplished. The shafts of +satire were directed equally in vain against Cibber and Osborne; +being repelled by the impenetrable impudence of one, and deadened by +the impassive dulness of the other. Pope confessed his own pain by +his anger; but he gave no pain to those who had provoked him. He +was able to hurt none but himself; by transferring the same ridicule +from one to another, he reduced himself to the insignificance of his +own magpie, who from his cage calls cuckold at a venture. + +Cibber, according to his engagement, repaid the "Dunciad" with +another pamphlet, which, Pope said, "would be as good as a dose of +hartshorn to him;" but his tongue and his heart were at variance. I +have heard Mr. Richardson relate that he attended his father the +painter on a visit, when one of Cibber's pamphlets came into the +hands of Pope, who said, "These things are my diversion." They sat +by him while he perused it, and saw his features writhing with +anguish: and young Richardson said to his father, when they +returned, that he hoped to be preserved from such diversion as had +been that day the lot of Pope. From this time, finding his diseases +more oppressive, and his vital powers gradually declining, he no +longer strained his faculties with any original composition, nor +proposed any other employment for his remaining life than the +revisal and correction of his former works, in which he received +advice and assistance from Warburton, whom he appears to have +trusted and honoured in the highest degree. He laid aside his Epic +Poem, perhaps without much loss to mankind; for his hero was Brutus +the Trojan, who, according to a ridiculous fiction, established a +colony in Britain. The subject, therefore, was of the fabulous age; +the actors were a race upon whom imagination has been exhausted, and +attention wearied, and to whom the mind will not easily be recalled, +when it is invited in blank verse, which Pope had adopted with great +imprudence, and, I think, without due consideration of the nature of +our language. The sketch is, at least in part, preserved by +Ruffhead, by which it appears that Pope was thoughtless enough to +model the names of his heroes with terminations not consistent with +the time or country in which he places them. He lingered through +the next year, but perceived himself, as he expresses it, "going +down the hill." He had for at least five years been afflicted with +an asthma, and other disorders, which his physicians were unable to +relieve. Towards the end of his life he consulted Dr. Thomson, a +man who had, by large promises, and free censures of the common +practice of physic, forced himself up into sudden reputation. +Thomson declared his distemper to be a dropsy, and evacuated part of +the water by tincture of jalap, but confessed that his belly did not +subside. Thomson had many enemies, and Pope was persuaded to +dismiss him. + +While he was yet capable of amusement and conversation, as he was +one day sitting in the air with Lord Bolingbroke and Lord Marchmont, +he saw his favourite Martha Blount at the bottom of the terrace, and +asked Lord Bolingbroke to go and hand her up. Bolingbroke, not +liking his errand, crossed his legs and sat still; but Lord +Marchmont, who was younger and less captious, waited on the lady, +who, when he came to her, asked, "What, is he not dead yet?" She is +said to have neglected him with shameful unkindness, in the latter +time of his decay; yet, of the little which he had to leave she had +a very great part. Their acquaintance began early; the life of each +was pictured on the other's mind; their conversation therefore was +endearing, for when they met, there was an immediate coalition of +congenial notions. Perhaps he considered her unwillingness to +approach the chamber of sickness as female weakness, or human +frailty; perhaps he was conscious to himself of peevishness and +impatience, or, though he was offended by her inattention, might yet +consider her merit as overbalancing her fault; and if he had +suffered his heart to be alienated from her, he could have found +nothing that might fill her place; he could have only shrunk within +himself. It was too late to transfer his confidence or fondness. + +In May, 1744, his death was approaching. On the 6th he was all day +delirious, which he mentioned for days afterwards as a sufficient +humiliation of the vanity of man; he afterwards complained of seeing +things as through a curtain, and in false colours, and one day, its +the presence of Dodsley, asked what arm it was that came from the +wall. He said that his greatest inconvenience was inability to +think. Bolingbroke sometimes wept over him in this state of +helpless decay; and being told by Spence, that Pope, at the +intermission of his deliriousness, was always saying something kind +either of his present or absent friends, and that his humanity +seemed to have survived his understanding, answered, "It has so." +And added, "I never in my life knew a man that had so tender a heart +for his particular friends, or more general friendship for mankind." +At another time he said, "I have known Pope these thirty years, and +value myself more in his friendship than--" His grief then +suppressed his voice. + +Pope expressed undoubting confidence of a future state. Being asked +by his friend Mr. Hooke, a papist, whether he would not die like his +father and mother, and whether a priest should not be called, he +answered, "I do not think it essential, but it will be very right; +and I thank you for putting me in mind of it." In the morning, +after the priest had given him the last sacraments, he said "There +is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship; and indeed +friendship itself is only a part of virtue." He died in the evening +of the 30th day of May 1744, so placidly, that the attendants did +not discern the exact time of his expiration. He was buried at +Twickenham, near his father and mother, where a monument has been +erected to him by his commentator, the Bishop of Gloucester. + +He left the care of his papers to his executors; first to Lord +Bolingbroke, and, if he should not be living, to the Earl of +Marchmont, undoubtedly expecting them to be proud of the trust, and +eager to extend his fame. But let no man dream of influence beyond +his life. After a decent time Dodsley, the bookseller, went to +solicit preference as the publisher, and was told that the parcel +had not been yet inspected; and, whatever was the reason, the world +has been disappointed of what was "reserved for the next age." He +lost, indeed, the favour of Bolingbroke by a kind of posthumous +offence. The political pamphlet called "The Patriot King" had been +put into his hands that he might procure the impression of a very +few copies, to be distributed, according to the author's direction, +among his friends, and Pope assured him that no more had been +printed than were allowed; but, soon after his death, the printer +brought and resigned a complete edition of fifteen hundred copies, +which Pope had ordered him to print and retain in secret. He kept, +as was observed, his engagement to Pope better than Pope had kept it +to his friend; and nothing was known of the transaction till, upon +the death of his employer, he thought himself obliged to deliver the +books to the right owner, who, with great indignation, made a fire +in his yard, and delivered the whole impression to the flames. + +Hitherto nothing had been done which was not naturally dictated by +resentment of violated faith; resentment more acrimonious, as the +violator had been more loved or more trusted. But here the anger +might have stopped; the injury was private, and there was little +danger from the example. Bolingbroke, however, was not yet +satisfied. His thirst of vengeance excited him to blast the memory +of the man over whom he had wept in his last struggles; and he +employed Mallet, another friend of Pope, to tell the tale to the +public, with all its aggravations. Warburton, whose heart was warm +with his legacy and tender by the recent separation, thought it +proper for him to interpose, and undertook, not indeed to vindicate +the action, for breach of trust has always something criminal, but +to extenuate it by an apology. Having advanced what cannot be +denied, that moral obliquity is made more or less excusable by the +motives that produce it, he inquires what evil purpose could have +induced Pope to break his promise. He could not delight his vanity +by usurping the work, which, though not sold in shops, had been +shown to a number more than sufficient to preserve the author's +claim; he could not gratify his avarice, for he could not sell his +plunder till Bolingbroke was dead; and even then, if the copy was +left to another, his fraud would be defeated, and if left to himself +would be useless. + +Warburton therefore supposes, with great appearance of reason, that +the irregularity of his conduct proceeded wholly from his zeal for +Bolingbroke, who might perhaps have destroyed the pamphlet, which +Pope thought it his duty to preserve, even without its author's +approbation. To this apology an answer was written in "A letter to +the most impudent man living." He brought some reproach upon his +own memory by the petulant and contemptuous mention made in his will +of Mr. Allen and an affected repayment of his benefactions. Mrs. +Blount, as the known friend and favourite of Pope, had been invited +to the house of Allen, where she comported herself with such +indecent arrogance that she parted from Mrs. Allen in a state of +irreconcilable dislike, and the door was for ever barred against +her. This exclusion she resented with so much bitterness as to +refuse any legacy from Pope unless he left the world with a +disavowal of obligation to Allen. Having been long under her +dominion, now tottering in the decline of life, and unable to resist +the violence of her temper, or perhaps, with the prejudice of a +lover, persuaded that she had suffered improper treatment, he +complied with her demand, and polluted his will with female +resentment. Allen accepted the legacy, which he gave to the +hospital at Bath, observing that Pope was always a bad accountant, +and that if to 150 pounds he had put a cipher more he had come +nearer to the truth. + +The person of Pope is well known not to have been formed by the +nicest model. He has, in his account of the "Little Club," compared +himself to a spider, and by another is described as protuberant +behind and before. He is said to have been beautiful in his +infancy, but he was of a constitution originally feeble and weak; +and, as bodies of a tender frame are easily distorted, his deformity +was probably in part the effect of his application. His stature was +so low, that to bring him to a level with common tables, it was +necessary to raise his seat. But his face was not displeasing, and +his eyes were animated and vivid. By natural deformity, or +accidental distortion, his vital functions were so much disordered, +that his life was "a long disease." His most frequent assailant was +the headache, which he used to relieve by inhaling the steam of +coffee, which he very frequently required. + +Most of what can be told concerning his petty peculiarities was +communicated by a female domestic of the Earl of Oxford, who knew +him perhaps after the middle of life. He was then so weak as to +stand in perpetual need of female attendance; extremely sensible of +cold, so that he wore a kind of fur doublet, under a shirt of a very +coarse warm linen with fine sleeves. When he rose, he was invested +in bodice made of stiff canvas, being scarcely able to hold himself +erect till they were laced, and he then put on a flannel waistcoat. +One side was contracted. His legs were so slender, that he enlarged +their bulk with three pairs of stockings, which were drawn on and +off by the maid, for he was not able to dress or undress himself, +and neither went to bed nor rose without help. His weakness made it +very difficult for him to be clean. His hair had fallen almost all +away, and he used to dine sometimes with Lord Oxford, privately, in +a velvet cap. His dress of ceremony was black, with a tie-wig, and +a little sword. The indulgence and accommodation which his sickness +required, had taught him all the unpleasing and unsocial qualities +of a valetudinary man. He expected that everything should give way +to his ease or humour, as a child, whose parents will not hear her +cry, has an unresisted dominion in the nursery. + + +"C'est que l'enfant toujours est homme, +C'est que l'homme est toujours enfant." + + +When he wanted to sleep he "nodded in company," and once slumbered +at his own table while the Prince of Wales was talking of poetry. + +The reputation which his friendship gave procured him many +invitations, but he was a very troublesome inmate. He brought no +servant, and had so many wants, that a numerous attendance was +scarcely able to supply them. Wherever he was, he left no room for +another, because he exacted the attention, and employed the activity +of the whole family. His errands were so frequent and frivolous, +that the footmen in time avoided and neglected him, and the Earl of +Oxford discharged some of his servants for their resolute refusal of +his messages. The maids, when they had neglected their business, +alleged that they had been employed by Mr. Pope. One of his +constant demands was of coffee in the night, and to the woman that +waited on him in his chamber he was very burthensome. But he was +careful to recompense her want of sleep, and Lord Oxford's servant +declared, that in the house where her business was to answer his +call, she would not ask for wages. He had another fault, easily +incident to those who, suffering much pain, think themselves +entitled to what pleasures they can snatch. He was too indulgent to +his appetite: he loved meat highly seasoned and of strong taste; +and, at the intervals of the table, amused himself with biscuits and +dry conserves. If he sat down to a variety of dishes, he would +oppress his stomach with repletion; and though he seemed angry when +a dram was offered him, did not forbear to drink it. His friends, +who knew the avenues to his heart, pampered him with presents of +luxury, which he did not suffer to stand neglected. The death of +great men is not always proportioned to the lustre of their lives. +Hannibal, says Juvenal, did not perish by the javelin or the sword, +the slaughters of Cannae were revenged by a ring. The death of Pope +was imputed by some of his friends to a silver saucepan, in which it +was his delight to eat potted lampreys. That he loved too well to +eat is certain; but that his sensuality shortened his life will not +be hastily concluded, when it is remembered that a conformation so +irregular lasted six-and-fifty years, notwithstanding such +pertinacious diligence of study and meditation. In all his +intercourse with mankind he had great delight in artifice, and +endeavoured to attain all his purposes by indirect and unsuspected +methods. "He hardly drank tea without a stratagem." If at the +house of friends he wanted any accommodation, he was not willing to +ask for it in plain terms, but would mention it remotely as +something convenient; though when it was procured, he soon made it +appear for whose sake it had been recommended. Thus he teased Lord +Orrery till he obtained a screen. He practised his arts on such +small occasions, that Lady Bolingbroke used to say, in a French +phrase, that "he played the politician about cabbages and turnips." +His unjustifiable impression of the "Patriot King," as it can be +attributed to no particular motive, must have proceeded from his +general habit of secrecy and cunning; he caught an opportunity of a +sly trick, and pleased himself with the thought of outwitting +Bolingbroke. In familiar or convivial conversation, it does not +appear that he excelled. He may be said to have resembled Dryden, +as being not one that was distinguished by vivacity in company. It +is remarkable that, so near his time, so much should be known of +what he has written, and so little of what he has said: traditional +memory retains no sallies of raillery, nor sentences of observation: +nothing either pointed or solid, either wise or merry. One +apophthegm only stands upon record. When an objection, raised +against his inscription for Shakespeare, was defended by the +authority of Patrick, he replied, horresco referens, that he "would +allow the publisher of a dictionary to know the meaning of a single +word, but not of two words put together." + +He was fretful and easily displeased, and allowed himself to be +capriciously resentful. He would sometimes leave Lord Oxford +silently, no one could tell why, and was to be courted back by more +letters and messages than the footmen were willing to carry. The +table was indeed infested by Lady Mary Wortley, who was the friend +of Lady Oxford, and who, knowing his peevishness, could by no +entreaties be restrained from contradicting him, till their disputes +were sharpened to such asperity, that one or the other quitted the +house. He sometimes condescended to be jocular with servants or +inferiors; but by no merriment, either of others or his own, was he +ever seen excited to laughter. + +Of his domestic character, frugality was a part eminently +remarkable. Having determined not to be dependent, he determined +not to be in want, and therefore wisely and magnanimously rejected +all temptations to expense unsuitable to his fortune. This general +care must be universally approved; but it sometimes appeared in +petty artifices of parsimony, such as the practice of writing his +compositions on the back of letters, as may be seen in the remaining +copy of the "Iliad," by which perhaps in five years five shillings +were saved; or in a niggardly reception of his friends, and +scantiness of entertainment, as, when he had two guests in his +house, he would set at supper a single pint upon the table; and +having himself taken two small glasses, would retire, and say, +"Gentlemen. I leave you to your wine." Yet he tells his friends +that "he has a heart for all, a house for all, and whatever they may +think, a fortune for all." He sometimes, however, made a splendid +dinner, and is said to have wanted no part of the skill or elegance +which such performances require. That this magnificence should be +often displayed, that obstinate prudence with which he conducted his +affairs would not permit; for his revenue, certain and casual, +amounted only to about eight hundred pounds a year, of which, +however, he declares himself able to assign one hundred to charity. +Of this fortune, which, as it arose from public approbation, was +very honourably obtained, his imagination seems to have been too +full: it would be hard to find a man so well entitled to notice by +his wit, that ever delighted so much in talking of his money. In +his Letters and in his poems, his garden and his grotto, his +quincunx and his vines, or some hints of his opulence, are always to +be found. The great topic of his ridicule is poverty; the crimes +with which he reproaches his antagonists are their debts, their +habitation in the Mint, and their want of a dinner. He seems to be +of an opinion not very uncommon in the world, that to want money is +to want everything. Next to the pleasure of contemplating his +possessions, seems to be that of enumerating the men of high rank +with whom he was acquainted, and whose notice he loudly proclaims +not to have been obtained by any practices of meanness or servility; +a boast which was never denied to be true, and to which very few +poets have ever aspired. Pope never set genius to sale; he never +flattered those whom he did not love, nor praised those whom he did +not esteem. Savage, however, remarked that he began a little to +relax his dignity when he wrote a distich for "his Highness's dog." + +His admiration of the great seems to have increased in the advance +of life. He passed over peers and statesmen to inscribe his "Iliad" +to Congreve, with a magnanimity of which the praise had been +complete, had his friend's virtue been equal to his wit. Why he was +chosen for so great an honour, it is not now possible to know; there +is no trace in literary history of any particular intimacy between +them. The name of Congreve appears in the Letters among those of +his other friends, but without any observable distinction or +consequence. To his latter works, however, he took care to annex +names dignified with titles, but was not very happy in his choice; +for, except Lord Bathurst, none of his noble friends were such as +that a good man would wish to have his intimacy with them known to +posterity; he can derive little honour from the notice of Cobham, +Burlington, or Bolingbroke. + +Of his social qualities, if an estimate be made from his Letters, an +opinion too favourable cannot easily be formed; they exhibit a +perpetual and unclouded effulgence of general benevolence, and +particular fondness. There is nothing but liberality, gratitude, +constancy, and tenderness. It has been so long said as to be +commonly believed, that the true characters of men may be found in +their letters, and that he who writes to his friend lays his heart +open before him. But the truth is that such were the simple +friendships of the Golden Age, and are now the friendships only of +children. Very few can boast of hearts which they dare lay open to +themselves, and of which, by whatever accident exposed, they do not +shun a distinct and continued view; and, certainly, who we hide from +ourselves we do not show to our friend. There is, indeed, no +transaction which offers strange temptations to fallacy and +sophistication than epistolary intercourse. In the eagerness of +conversation the first emotions of the mind often burst out before +they are considered; in the tumult of business, interest and passion +have their genuine effect; but a friendly letter is a calm and +deliberate performance in the cool of leisure, in the stillness of +solitude, and surely no man sits down to depreciate by design his +own character. + +Friendship has no tendency to secure veracity; for by whom can a man +so much wish to be thought better than he is, as by him whose +kindness he desires to gain or keep? Even in writing to the world +there is less constraint; the author is not confronted with his +reader, and takes his chance of approbation among the different +dispositions of mankind; but a letter is addressed to a single mind, +of which the prejudices and partialities are known; and must +therefore please, if not by favouring them, by forbearing to oppose +them. To charge those favourable representations, which men give of +their own minds, with the guilt of hypocritical falsehood, would +show more severity than knowledge. The writer commonly believes +himself. Almost every man's thoughts, while they are general, are +right; and most hearts are pure while temptation is away. It is +easy to awaken generous sentiments in privacy; to despise death when +there is no danger; to glow with benevolence when there is nothing +to be given. While such ideas are formed they are felt; and self- +love does not suspect the gleam of virtue to be the meteor of fancy. + +If the Letters of Pope are considered merely as compositions, they +seem to be premeditated and artificial. It is one thing to write +because there is something which the mind wishes to discharge, and +another to solicit the imagination because ceremony or vanity +requires something to be written. Pope confesses his early Letters +to be vitiated with AFFECTATION AND AMBITION: to know whether he +disentangled himself from these perverters of epistolary integrity, +his book and his life must be set in comparison. One of his +favourite topics is contempt of his own poetry. For this, if it had +been real, he would deserve no commendation; and in this he was +certainly not sincere, for his high value of himself was +sufficiently observed; and of what could he be proud but of his +poetry? He writes, he says, when "he has just nothing else to do;" +yet Swift complains that he was never at leisure for conversation, +because he "had always some poetical scheme in his head." It was +punctually required that his writing-box should be set upon his bed +before he rose; and Lord Oxford's domestic related that, in the +dreadful winter of Forty, she was called from her bed by him four +times in one night, to supply him with paper, lest he should lose a +thought. He pretends insensibility to censure and criticism, though +it was observed by all who knew him that every pamphlet disturbed +his quiet, and that his extreme irritability laid him open to +perpetual vexation; but he wished to despise his critics, and +therefore hoped that he did despise them. As he happened to live in +two reigns when the court paid little attention to poetry, he nursed +in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings, and proclaims that "he +never sees courts." Yet a little regard shown him by the Prince of +Wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much to say when he was +asked by his Royal Highness, "How he could love a prince while he +disliked kings?" + +He very frequently professes contempt of the world, and represents +himself as looking on mankind, sometimes with gay indifference, as +on emmets of a hillock, below his serious attention; and sometimes +with gloomy indignation, as on monsters more worthy of hatred than +pity. These were dispositions apparently counterfeited. How could +he despise those whom he lived by pleasing, and on whose approbation +his esteem of himself was superstructed? Why should he hate those +to whose favour he owed his honour and his ease? Of things that +terminate in human life, the world is the proper judge: to despise +its sentence, if it were possible, is not just; and if it were just, +is not possible. Pope was far enough from this unreasonable temper; +he was sufficiently A FOOL TO FAME, and his fault was that he +pretended to neglect it. His levity and his sullenness were only in +his letters; he passed through common life, sometimes vexed, and +sometimes pleased, with the natural emotions of common men. His +scorn of the great is repeated too often to be real; no man thinks +much of that which he despises; and as falsehood is always in danger +of inconsistency, he makes it his boast at another time that he +lives among them. It is evident that his own importance swells +often in his mind. He is afraid of writing, lest the clerks of the +post-office should know his secrets; he has many enemies; he +considers himself as surrounded by universal jealousy: "After many +deaths, and many dispersions, two or three of us," says he, "may +still be brought together, not to plot, but to divert ourselves, and +the world too, if it pleases;" and they can live together, and "show +what friends wits may be, in spite of all the fools in the world." +All this while it was likely that the clerks did not know his hand; +he certainly had no more enemies than a public character like his +inevitably excites; and with what degree of friendship the wits +might live, very few were so much fools as ever to inquire. Some +part of this pretended discontent he learned from Swift, and +expresses it, I think, most frequently in his correspondence with +him. Swift's resentment was unreasonable, but it was sincere; +Pope's was the mere mimicry of his friend, a fictitious part which +he began to play before it became him. When he was only twenty-five +years old, he related that "a glut of study and retirement had +thrown him on the world," and that there was danger lest "a glut of +the world should throw him back upon study and retirement." To this +Swift answered with great propriety, that Pope had not yet acted or +suffered enough in the world to have become weary of it. And, +indeed, it must have been some very powerful reason that can drive +back to solitude him who has once enjoyed the pleasures of society. + +In the Letters both of Swift and Pope there appears such narrowness +of mind as makes them insensible of any excellence that has not some +affinity with their own, and confines their esteem and approbation +to so small a number, that whoever should form his opinion of their +age from their representation, would suppose them to have lived +amidst ignorance and barbarity, unable to find among their +contemporaries either virtue or intelligence, and persecuted by +those that could not understand them. + +When Pope murmurs at the world, when he professes contempt of fame, +when he speaks of riches and poverty, of success and disappointment, +with negligent indifference, he certainly does not express his +habitual and settled resentments, but either wilfully disguises his +own character, or, what is more likely, invests himself with +temporary qualities, and sallies out in the colours of the present +moment. His hopes and fears, his joys and sorrows, acted strongly +upon his mind, and if he differed from others it was not by +carelessness; he was irritable and resentful; his malignity to +Philips, whom he had first made ridiculous and then hated for being +angry continued too long. Of his vain desire to make Bentley +contemptible I never heard any adequate reason. He was sometimes +wanton in his attacks, and before Chandos, Lady Wortley, and Hill, +was mean in his retreat. The virtues which seem to have had most of +his affection were liberality and fidelity of friendship, in which +it does not appear that he was other than he describes himself. His +fortune did not suffer his character to be splendid and conspicuous, +but he assisted Dodsley with a hundred pounds that he might open a +shop, and of the subscription of forty pounds a year that he raised +for Savage twenty were paid by himself. He was accused of loving +money, but his love was eagerness to gain, not solicitude to keep +it. In the duties of friendship he was zealous and constant; his +early maturity of mind commonly united him with men older than +himself, and therefore, without attaining any considerable length of +life, he saw many companions of his youth sink into the grave; but +it does not appear that he lost a single friend by coldness or by +injury; those who loved him once continued their kindness. His +ungrateful mention of Allen in his will was the effect of his +adherence to one whom he had known much longer, and whom he +naturally loved with greater fondness. His violation of the trust +reposed in him by Bolingbroke could have no motive inconsistent with +the warmest affection; he either thought the action so near to +indifferent that he forgot it, or so laudable that he expected his +friend to approve it. It was reported with such confidence as +almost to enforce belief, that in the papers entrusted to his +executors was found a defamatory Life of Swift, which he had +prepared as an instrument of vengeance, to be used if any +provocation should be ever given. About this I inquired of the Earl +of Marchmont, who assured me that no such piece was among his +remains. + +The religion in which he lived and died was that of the Church of +Rome, to which, in his correspondence with Racine, he professes +himself a sincere adherent. That he was not scrupulously pious in +some part of his life is known by many idle and indecent +applications of sentences taken from the Scriptures, a mode of +merriment which a good man dreads for its profaneness, and a witty +man disdains for its easiness and vulgarity. But to whatever +levities he has been betrayed, it does not appear that his +principles were ever corrupted, or that he ever lost his belief of +revelation. The positions which he transmitted from Bolingbroke he +seems not to have understood, and was pleased with an interpretation +that made them orthodox. + +A man of such exalted superiority and so little moderation would +naturally have all his delinquencies observed and aggravated; those +who could not deny that he was excellent would rejoice to find that +he was not perfect. Perhaps it may be imputed to the unwillingness +with which the same man is allowed to possess many advantages, that +his learning has been depreciated. He certainly was in his early +life a man of great literary curiosity, and when he wrote his "Essay +on Criticism," had, for his age, a very wide acquaintance with +books. When he entered into the living world it seems to have +happened to him, as to many others, that he was less attentive to +dead masters; he studied in the academy of Paracelsus, and made the +universe his favourite volume. He gathered his notions fresh from +reality, not from the copies of authors, but the originals of +Nature. Yet there is no reason to believe that literature ever lost +his esteem; he always professed to love reading, and Dobson, who +spent some time at his house translating his "Essay on Man," when I +asked him what learning he found him to possess, answered, "More +than I expected." His frequent references to history, his allusions +to various kinds of knowledge, and his images selected from art and +nature, with his observations on the operations of the mind and the +modes of life, show an intelligence perpetually on the wing, +excursive, vigorous, and diligent, eager to pursue knowledge, and +attentive to retain it. From this curiosity arose the desire of +travelling, to which he alludes in his verses to Jervas, and which, +though he never found an opportunity to gratify it, did not leave +him till his life declined. + +Of his intellectual character, the constituent and fundamental +principle was good sense, a prompt and intuitive perception of +consonance and propriety. He saw immediately of his own conceptions +what was to be chosen and what to be rejected, and, in the works of +others, what was to be shunned and what was to be copied. But good +sense alone is a sedate and quiescent quality, which manages its +possessions well, but does not increase them; it collects few +materials for its own operations, and preserves safety, but never +gains supremacy. Pope had likewise genius; a mind active, +ambitious, and adventurous, always investigating, always aspiring; +in its widest searches still longing to go forward, in its highest +flights still wishing to be higher, always imagining some thing +greater than it knows, always endeavouring more than it can do. To +assist these powers he is said to have had great strength and +exactness of memory. That which he had heard or read was not easily +lost, and he had before him not only what his own meditations +suggested, but what he had found in other writers that might be +accommodated to his present purpose. These benefits of Nature he +improved by incessant and unwearied diligence; he had recourse to +every source of intelligence, and lost no opportunity of +information; he consulted the living as well as the dead; he read +his compositions to his friends, and was never content with +mediocrity when excellence could be attained. He considered poetry +as the business of his life, and however he might seem to lament his +occupation he followed it with constancy; to make verses was his +first labour, and to mend them was his last. From his attention to +poetry he was never diverted. If conversation offered anything that +could be improved, he committed it to paper; if a thought, or +perhaps an expression, more happy than was common, rose to his mind, +he was careful to write it; an independent distich was preserved for +an opportunity of insertion, and some little fragments have been +found containing lines, or parts of lines, to be wrought upon at +some other time. He was one of those few whose labour is their +pleasure; he was never elevated to negligence nor wearied to +impatience; he never passed a fault unamended by indifference, nor +quitted it by despair. He laboured his works first to gain +reputation, and afterwards to keep it. + +Of composition there are different methods. Some employ at once +memory and invention, and, with little intermediate use of the pen, +form and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write +their productions only when, in their own opinion, they have +completed them. It is related of Virgil that his custom was to pour +out a great number of verses in the morning, and pass the day in +retrenching exuberances and correcting inaccuracies. The method of +Pope, as may be collected from his translation, was to write his +first thoughts in his first words, and gradually to amplify, +decorate, rectify, and refine them. With such faculties and such +dispositions he excelled every other writer in poetical prudence; he +wrote in such a manner as might expose him to few hazards. He used +almost always the same fabric of verse, and, indeed, by those few +essays which he made of any other, he did not enlarge his +reputation. Of this uniformity the certain consequence was +readiness and dexterity. By perpetual practice language had, in his +mind, a systematical arrangement; having always the same use for +words, he had words so selected and combined as to be ready at his +call. This increase of facility he confessed himself to have +perceived in the progress of his translation. But what was yet of +more importance, his effusions were always voluntary, and his +subjects chosen by himself. His independence secured him from +drudging at a task, and labouring upon a barren topic; he never +exchanged praise for money, nor opened a shop of condolence or +congratulation. His poems, therefore, were scarcely ever temporary. +He suffered coronations and royal marriages to pass without a song, +and derived no opportunities from recent events, nor any popularity +from the accidental disposition of his readers. He was never +reduced to the necessity of soliciting the sun to shine upon a +birthday, of calling the graces and virtues to a wedding, or of +saying what multitudes have said before him. When he could produce +nothing new he was at liberty to be silent. + +His publications were for the same reason never hasty. He is said +to have sent nothing to the press till it had lain two years under +his inspection: it is at least certain that he ventured nothing +without nice examination. He suffered the tumult of imagination to +subside, and the novelties of invention to grow familiar. He knew +that the mind is always enamoured of its own productions, and did +not trust his first fondness. He consulted his friends, and +listened with great willingness to criticism; and, what was of more +importance, he consulted himself, and let nothing pass against his +own judgment. He professed to have learned his poetry from Dryden, +whom, whenever an opportunity was presented, he praised through his +whole life with unvaried liberality; and perhaps his character may +receive some illustration if he be compared with his master. + +Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were not +allotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude +of Dryden's mind was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his +poetical prejudices, and the rejection of unnatural thoughts and +rugged numbers. But Dryden never desired to apply all the judgment +that he had. He wrote, and professed to write, merely for the +people; and when he pleased others, he contented himself. He spent +no time in struggles to rouse latent powers; he never attempted to +make that better which was already good, nor often to mend what he +must have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with very +little consideration; when occasion or necessity called upon him, he +poured out what the present moment happened to supply, and, when +once it had passed the press, ejected it from his mind; for, when he +had no pecuniary interest, he had no further solicitude. + +Pope was not content to satisfy; he desired to excel, and therefore +always endeavoured to do his best; he did not court the candour, but +dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from +others, he showed none to himself. He examined lines and words with +minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with +indefatigable diligence, till he had left nothing to be forgiven. +For this reason he kept his pieces very long in his hands, while he +considered and reconsidered them. The only poems which can be +supposed to have been written with such regard to the times as might +hasten their publication, were the two satires of "Thirty-eight;" of +which Dodsley told me that they were brought to him by the author, +that they might be fairly copied. "Almost every line," he said, +"was then written twice over; I gave him a clean transcript, which +he sent some time afterwards to me for the press, with almost every +line written twice over a second time." His declaration, that his +care for his works ceased at their publication, was not strictly +true. His parental attention never abandoned them; what he found +amiss in the first edition, he silently corrected in those that +followed. He appears to have revised the "Iliad," and freed it from +some of its imperfections; and the "Essay on Criticism" received +many improvements after its first appearance. It will seldom be +found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, or vigour. +Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden certainly wanted +the diligence of Pope. + +In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, +whose education was more scholastic, and who before he became an +author had been allowed more time for study, with better means of +information. His mind has a larger range, and he collects his +images and illustrations from a more extensive circumference of +science. Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, and Pope in +his local manners. The notions of Dryden were formed by +comprehensive speculation, and those of Pope by minute attention. +There is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty +in that of Pope. Poetry was not the sole praise of either; for both +excelled likewise in prose; but Pope did not borrow his prose from +his predecessor. The style of Dryden is capricious and varied; that +of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden observes the motions of his +own mind; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. +Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, +uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into +inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant +vegetation; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and +levelled by the roller. + +Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet; that quality without +which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that energy which +collects, combines, amplifies, and animates; the superiority must, +with some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be +inferred that of this poetical vigour Pope had only a little, +because Dryden had more; for every other writer since Milton must +give place to Pope; and even of Dryden it must be said that, if he +has brighter paragraphs, he has not better poems. Dryden's +performances were always hasty, either excited by some external +occasion, or extorted by domestic necessity; he composed without +consideration, and published without correction. What his mind +could supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he +sought, and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled +him to condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to +accumulate all that study might produce or chance might supply. If +the flights of Dryden therefore are higher, Pope continues longer on +the wing. If of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the +heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses +expectation, and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with +frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight. This +parallel will, I hope, when it is well considered, be found just; +and if the reader should suspect me, as I suspect myself, of some +partial fondness for the memory of Dryden, let him not too hastily +condemn me; for meditation and inquiry may, perhaps, show him the +reasonableness of my determination. + +The Works of Pope are now to be distinctly examined, not so much +with attention to slight faults or petty beauties, as to the general +character and effect of each performance. + +It seems natural for a young poet to initiate himself by pastorals, +which, not professing to imitate real life, require no experience; +and, exhibiting only the simple operation of unmingled passions, +admit no subtle reasoning or deep inquiry. Pope's pastorals are +not, however, composed but with close thought; they have reference +to the times of the day, the seasons of the year, and the periods of +human life. The last, that which turns the attention upon age and +death, was the author's favourite. To tell of disappointment and +misery, to thicken the darkness of futurity and perplex the +labyrinth of uncertainty, has been always a delicious employment of +the poets. His preference was probably just. I wish, however, that +his fondness had not overlooked a line in which the Zephyrs are made +to lament in silence. To charge these pastorals with wane of +invention, is to require what was never intended. The imitations +are so ambitiously frequent, that the writer evidently means rather +to show his literature than his wit. It is surely sufficient for an +author of sixteen, not only to be able to copy the poems of +antiquity with judicious selection, but to have obtained sufficient +power of language, and skill in metre, to exhibit a series of +versification which had in English poetry no precedent, nor has +since had an imitation. + +The design of "Windsor Forest" is evidently derived from "Cooper's +Hill," with some attention to Waller's poem on "The Park;" but Pope +cannot be denied to excel his masters in variety and elegance, and +the art of interchanging description, narrative, and morality. The +objection made by Dennis is the want of plan, of a regular +subordination of parts terminating in the principal and original +design. There is this want in most descriptive poems, because as +the scenes, which they must exhibit successively, are all subsisting +at the same time, the order in which they are shown must by +necessity be arbitrary, and more is not to be expected from the last +part than from the first. The attention, therefore, which cannot be +detained by suspense, must be excited by diversity, such as this +poem offers to its reader. But the desire of diversity may be too +much indulged; the parts of "Windsor Forest" which deserve least +praise are those which were added to enliven the stillness of the +scene--the appearance of Father Thames, and the transformation of +Lodona. Addison had in his "Campaign" derided the rivers that "rise +from their oozy beds" to tell stories of heroes; and it is therefore +strange that Pope should adopt a fiction not only unnatural, but +lately censured. The story of Lodona is told with sweetness; but a +new metamorphosis is a ready and puerile expedient; nothing is +easier than to tell how a flower was once a blooming virgin, or a +rock an obdurate tyrant. + +The "Temple of Fame" has, as Steele warmly declared, a "thousand +beauties." Every part is splendid; there is great luxuriance of +ornaments; the original vision of Chaucer was never denied to be +much improved; the allegory is very skilfully continued, the imagery +is properly selected, and learnedly displayed; yet, with all this +comprehension of excellence, as its scene is laid in remote ages, +and its sentiments, if the concluding paragraph be excepted, have +little relation to general manners or common life, it never obtained +much notice, but is turned silently over, and seldom quoted or +mentioned with either praise or blame. + +That the "Messiah" excels the "Pollio" is no great praise, if it be +considered from what original the improvements are derived. + +The "Verses on the Unfortunate Lady" have drawn much attention by +the illaudable singularity of treating suicide with respect; and +they must be allowed to be written in some parts with vigorous +animation, and in others with gentle tenderness; nor has Pope +produced any poem in which the sense predominates more over the +diction. But the tale is not skilfully told; it is not easy to +discover the character of either the lady or her guardian. History +relates that she was about to disparage herself by a marriage with +an inferior; Pope praises her for the dignity of ambition, and yet +condemns the uncle to detestation for his pride; the ambitious love +of a niece may be opposed by the interest, malice, or envy of an +uncle, but never by his pride. On such an occasion a poet may be +allowed to be obscure, but inconsistency never can be right. + +The "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day" was undertaken at the desire of +Steele: in this the author is generally confessed to have +miscarried, yet he has miscarried only as compared with Dryden; for +he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden's plan is better +chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the attention than +fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains +of real life, the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope +is read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope +hangs upon the ear, and Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both +the odes want the essential constituent of metrical compositions, +the stated recurrence of settled numbers. It may be alleged that +Pindar is said by Horace to have written numeris lege solutis; but +as no such lax performances have been transmitted to us, the meaning +of that expression cannot be fixed; and perhaps the like return +might properly be made to a modern Pindarist as Mr. Cobb received +from Bentley, who, when he found his criticisms upon a Greek +exercise, which Cobb had presented, refuted one after another by +Pindar's authority, cried out at last, "Pindar was a bold fellow, +but thou art an impudent one." + +If Pope's ode be particularly inspected, it will be found that the +first stanza consists of sounds well chosen indeed, but only sounds. +The second consists of hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be +found, and perhaps without much difficulty to be as well expressed. +In the third, however, there are numbers, images, harmony, and +rigour, not unworthy the antagonist of Dryden. Had all been like +this--but every part cannot be the best. The next stanzas place and +detain us in the dark and dismal regions of mythology, where neither +hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow can be found: the poet, +however, faithfully attends us; we have all that can be performed by +elegance of diction or sweetness of versification; but what can form +avail without better matter? The last stanza recurs again to +commonplaces. The conclusion is too evidently modelled by that of +Dryden; and it may be remarked that both end with the same fault; +the comparison of each is literal on one side and metaphorical on +the other. Poets do not always express their own thoughts: Pope, +with all this labour in the praise of music, was ignorant of its +principles and insensible of its effects. + +One of his greatest, though of his earliest works, is the "Essay on +Criticism," which, if he had written nothing else, would have placed +him among the first critics and the first poets, as it exhibits +every mode of excellence that can embellish or dignify didactic +composition, selection of matter, novelty of arrangement, justness +of precept, splendour of illustration, and propriety of digression. +I know not whether it be pleasing to consider that he produced this +piece at twenty, and never afterwards excelled it: he that delights +himself with observing that such powers may be soon attained, cannot +but grieve to think that life was ever after at a stand. + +To mention the particular beauties of the essay would be +unprofitably tedious: but I cannot forbear to observe that the +comparison of a student's progress in the sciences with the journey +of a traveller in the Alps is perhaps the best that English poetry +can show. A simile, to be perfect, must both illustrate and ennoble +the subject; must show it to the understanding in a clearer view, +and display it to the fancy with greater dignity; but either of +these qualities may be sufficient to recommend it. In didactic +poetry, of which the great purpose is instruction, a simile may be +praised which illustrates, though it does not ennoble; in heroics, +that may be admitted which ennobles, though it does not illustrate. +That it may be complete, it is required to exhibit, independently of +its references, a pleasing image; for a simile is said to be a short +episode. To this antiquity was so attentive, that circumstances +were sometimes added, which, having no parallels, served only to +fill the imagination, and produced what Perrault ludicrously called +"comparisons with a long tail." In their similes the greatest +writers have sometimes failed; the ship-race, compared with the +chariot-race, is neither illustrated nor aggrandised; land and water +make all the difference: when Apollo, running after Daphne, is +likened to a greyhound chasing a hare, there is nothing gained; the +ideas of pursuit and flight are too plain to be made plainer; and a +god and the daughter of a god are not represented much to their +advantage by a hare and dog. The simile of the Alps has no useless +parts, yet affords a striking picture by itself; it makes the +foregoing position better understood, and enables it to take faster +hold on the attention; it assists the apprehension and elevates the +fancy. Let me likewise dwell a little on the celebrated paragraph +in which it is directed that "the sound should seem an echo to the +sense;" a precept which Pope is allowed to have observed beyond any +other English poet. + +This notion of representative metre, and the desire of discovering +frequent adaptations of the sound to the sense, have produced, in my +opinion, many wild conceits and imaginary beauties. All that can +furnish this representation are the sounds of the words considered +singly and the time in which they are pronounced. Every language +has some words framed to exhibit the noises which they express, as +THUMP, RATTLE, GROWL, HISS. These, however, are but few, and the +poet cannot make them more, nor can they be of any use but when +sound is to be mentioned. The time of pronunciation was in the +dactylic measures of the learned languages capable of considerable +variety; but that variety could be accommodated only to motion or +duration, and different degrees of motion were perhaps expressed by +verses rapid or slow, without much attention of the writer, when the +image had full possession of his fancy: but our language having +little flexibility, our verses can differ very little in their +cadence. The fancied resemblances, I fear, arise sometimes merely +from the ambiguity of words; there is supposed to be some relation +between a SOFT line and SOFT couch, or between HEARD syllables and +HARD fortune. Motion, however, may be in some sort exemplified; and +yet it may be suspected that in such resemblances the mind often +governs the ear, and the sounds are estimated by their meaning. One +of their most successful attempts has been to describe the labour of +Sisyphus:- + + +"With many a weary step, and many a groan, +Up a high hill he heaves a huge round stone; +The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, +Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground." + + +Who does not perceive the stone to move slowly upward, and roll +violently back? But set the same numbers to another sense:- + + +"While many a merry tale, and many a song, +Cheered the rough road, we wished the rough road long. +The rough road, then, returning in a round, +Mocked our impatient steps, for all was fairy ground." + + +We have now surely lost much of the delay and much of the rapidity. +But, to show how little the greatest master of numbers can fix the +principles of representative harmony, it will be sufficient to +remark that the poet who tells us that - + + +"When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, +The line too labours, and the words move slow: +Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, +Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main;" + + +when he had enjoyed for about thirty years the praise of Camilla's +lightness of foot, he tried another experiment upon SOUND and TIME, +and produced this memorable triplet:- + + +"Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to join +The varying verse, the full resounding line, +The long majestic march, and energy divine." + + +Here are the swiftness of the rapid race, and the march of slow- +paced majesty, exhibited by the same poet in the same sequence of +syllables, except that the exact prosodist will find the line of +SWIFTNESS by one time longer than that of TARDINESS. Beauties of +this kind are commonly fancied, and, when real, are technical and +nugatory, not to he rejected and not to be solicited. + +To the praises which have been accumulated on the "Rape of the Look" +by readers of every class, from the critic to the waiting-maid, it +is difficult to make any addition. Of that which is universally +allowed to be the most attractive of all ludicrous compositions, let +it rather be now inquired from what sources the power of pleasing is +derived. + +Dr. Warburton, who excelled in critical perspicacity, has remarked +that the preternatural agents are very happily adapted to the +purposes of the poem. The heathen deities can no longer gain +attention; we should have turned away from a contest between Venus +and Diana. The employment of allegorical persons always excites +conviction of its own absurdity; they may produce effects, but +cannot conduct actions; when the phantom is put in motion it +dissolves; thus Discord may raise a mutiny, but Discord cannot +conduct a march nor besiege a town. Pope brought in view a new race +of beings, with powers and passions proportionate to their +operation. The Sylphs and Gnomes act at the toilet and the tea- +table what more terrific and more powerful phantoms perform on the +stormy ocean or the field of battle: they give their proper help +and do their proper mischief. Pope is said, by an objector, not to +have been the inventor of this petty notion, a charge which might +with more justice have been brought against the author of the +"Iliad," who doubtless adopted the religious system of his country; +for what is there but the names of his agents which Pope has not +invented? Has he not assigned them characters and operations never +heard of before? Has he not, at least, given them their first +poetical existence? If this is not sufficient to denominate his +work original, nothing original ever can be written. + +In this work are exhibited in a very high degree the two most +engaging powers of an author. New things are made familiar, and +familiar things are made new. A race of aerial people never heard +of before is presented to us in a manner so clear and easy that the +reader seeks for no further information, but immediately mingles +with his new acquaintance, adopts their interests, and attends their +pursuits, loves a Sylph, and detests a Gnome. That familiar things +are made new every paragraph will prove. The subject of the poem is +an event below the common incidents of common life; nothing real is +introduced that is not seen so often as to be no longer regarded; +yet the whole detail of a female day is here brought before us, +invested with so much art of decoration that, though nothing is +disguised, everything is striking, and we feel all the appetite of +curiosity for that from which we have a thousand times turned +fastidiously away. + +The purpose of the poet is, as he tells us, to laugh at "the little +unguarded follies of the female sex." It is therefore without +justice that Dennis charges the "Rape of the Lock" with the want of +a moral, and for that reason sets it below the "Lutrin," which +exposes the pride and discord of the clergy. Perhaps neither Pope +nor Boileau has made the world much better than he found it; but if +they had both succeeded, it were easy to tell who would have +deserved most from public gratitude. The freaks, and humours, and +spleen, and vanity of women as they embroil families in discord, and +fill houses with disquiet, do more to obstruct the happiness of life +in a year than the ambition of the clergy in many centuries. It has +been well observed that the misery of man proceeds not from any +single crush of overwhelming evil, but from small vexatious +continually repeated. It is remarked by Dennis, likewise, that the +machinery is superfluous; that, by all the bustle of preternatural +operation, the main event is neither hastened nor retarded. To this +charge an efficacious answer is not easily made. The Sylphs cannot +be said to help or oppose; and it must be allowed to imply some want +of art that their power has not been sufficiently intermingled with +the action. Other parts may likewise be charged with want of +connection--the game at ombre might be spared; but if the lady had +lost her hair while she was intent upon her cards it might have been +inferred that those who are too fond of play will be in danger of +neglecting more important interests. Those, perhaps, are faults, +but what are such faults to so much excellence! + +The Epistle of "Eloise to Abelard" is one of the most happy +productions of human wit; the subject is so judiciously chosen that +it would be difficult in turning over the annals of the world to +find another which so many circumstances concur to recommend. We +regularly interest ourselves most in the fortune of those who most +deserve our notice. Abelard and Eloise were conspicuous in their +days for eminence of merit. The heart naturally loves truth. The +adventures and misfortunes of this illustrious pair are known from +undisputed history. Their fate does not leave the mind in hopeless +dejection, for they both found quiet and consolation in retirement +and piety. So new and so affecting is their story that it +supersedes invention, and imagination ranges at full liberty without +straggling into scenes of fable. The story thus skilfully adopted +has been diligently improved. Pope has left nothing behind him +which seems more the effect of studious perseverance and laborious +revisal. Here is particularly observable the curiosa felicitas, a +fruitful soil and careful cultivation. Here is no crudeness of +sense nor asperity of language. The sources from which sentiments +which have so much vigour and efficacy have been drawn are shown to +be the mystic writers by the learned author of the "Essays on the +Life and Writings of Pope," a book which teaches how the brow of +Criticism may be smoothed, and how she may be enabled, with all her +severity, to attract and to delight. + +The train of my disquisition has now conducted me to that poetical +wonder, the translation of the "Iliad," a performance which no age +or nation can pretend to equal. To the Greeks translation was +almost unknown; it was totally unknown to the inhabitants of Greece. +They had no recourse to the barbarians for poetical beauties, but +sought for everything in Homer, where, indeed, there is but little +which they might not find. The Italians have been very diligent +translators, but I can hear of no version, unless, perhaps, +Anguillara's "Ovid" may be excepted, which is read with eagerness. +The "Iliad" of Salvini every reader may discover to be punctiliously +exact; but it seems to be the work of a linguist skilfully pedantic; +and his countrymen, the proper judges of its power to please, reject +it with disgust. Their predecessors, the Romans, have left some +specimens of translation behind them, and that employment must have +had some credit in which Tully and Germanicus engaged; but unless we +suppose, what is perhaps true, that the plays of Terence were +versions of Menander, nothing translated seems ever to have risen to +high reputation. The French in the meridian hour of their learning +were very laudably industrious to enrich their own language with the +wisdom of the ancients; but found themselves reduced by whatever +necessity to turn the Greek and Roman poetry into prose. Whoever +could read an author could translate him. From such rivals little +can be feared. + +The chief help of Pope in this audacious undertaking was drawn from +the versions of Dryden. Virgil had borrowed much of his imagery +from Homer; and part of the debt was now paid by his translator. +Pope searched the pages of Dryden for happy combinations of heroic +diction, but it will not be denied that he added much to what he +found. He cultivated our language with so much diligence and art, +that he has left in his "Homer" a treasure of poetical elegances to +posterity. His version may be said to have tuned the English +tongue; for since its appearance no writer, however deficient in +other powers, has wanted melody. Such a series of lines, so +elaborately corrected, and so sweetly modulated, took possession of +the public ear; the vulgar was enamoured of the poem, and the +learned wondered at the translation. But in the most general +applause discordant voices will always be heard. It has been +objected by some who wish to be numbered among the sons of learning +that Pope's version of Homer is not Homerical; that it exhibits no +resemblance of the original and characteristic manner of the Father +of Poetry, as it wants his artless grandeur, his unaffected majesty. +This cannot be totally denied; but it must be remembered that +necessitas quod cogit defendit; that may be lawfully done which +cannot be forborne. Time and place will always enforce regard. In +estimating this translation, consideration must be had of the nature +of our language, the form of our metre, and, above all, of the +change which two thousand years have made in the modes of life and +the habits of thought. Virgil wrote in a language of the same +general fabric with that of Homer, in verses of the same measure, +and in an age nearer to Homer's time by eighteen hundred years; yet +he found even then the state of the world so much altered, and the +demand for elegance so much increased, that mere nature would be +endured no longer; and, perhaps, in the multitude of borrowed +passages, very few can be shown which he has not embellished. + +There is a time when nations, emerging from barbarity, and falling +into regular subordination, gain leisure to grow wise, and feel the +shame of ignorance and the craving pain of unsatisfied curiosity. +To this hunger of the mind plain sense is grateful; that which fills +the void removes uneasiness, and to be free from pain for a while is +pleasure; but repletion generates fastidiousness; a saturated +intellect soon becomes luxurious, and knowledge finds no willing +reception till it is recommended by artificial diction. Thus it +will be found, in the progress of learning, that in all nations the +first writers are simple, and that every age improves in elegance. +One refinement always makes way for another; and what was expedient +to Virgil was necessary to Pope. I suppose many readers of the +English "Iliad," when they have been touched with some unexpected +beauty of the lighter kind, have tried to enjoy it in the original, +where, alas! it was not to be found. Homer doubtless owes to his +translator many Ovidian graces not exactly suitable to his +character; but to have added can be no great crime, if nothing be +taken away. Elegance is surely to be desired, if it be not gained +at the expense of dignity. A hero would wish to be loved, as well +as to be reverenced. To a thousand cavils one answer is sufficient; +the purpose of a writer is to be read, and the criticism which would +destroy the power of pleasing must be blown aside. Pope wrote for +his own age and his own nation: he knew that it was necessary to +colour the images and point the sentiments of his author; he +therefore made him graceful, but lost him some of his sublimity. +The copious notes with which the version is accompanied, and by +which it is recommended to many readers, though they were +undoubtedly written to swell the volumes, ought not to pass without +praise: commentaries which attract the reader by the pleasure of +perusal have not often appeared; the notes of others are read to +clear difficulties; those of Pope to vary entertainment. It has, +however, been objected, with sufficient reason, that there is in the +commentary too much of unseasonable levity and affected gaiety; that +too many appeals are made to the ladies, and the ease which is so +carefully preserved is sometimes the ease of a trifler. Every art +has its terms, and every kind of instruction its proper style; the +gravity of common critics may be tedious, but is less despicable +than childish merriment. + +Of the "Odyssey" nothing remains to be observed; the same general +praise may be given to both translations, and a particular +examination of either would require a large volume. The notes were +written by Broome, who endeavoured, not unsuccessfully, to imitate +his master. + +Of the "Dunciad" the hint is confessedly taken from Dryden's "Mac +Flecknoe;" but the plan is so enlarged and diversified as justly to +claim the praise of an original, and affords the best specimen that +has yet appeared of personal satire ludicrously pompous. That the +design was moral, whatever the author might tell either his readers +or himself, I am not convinced. The first motive was the desire of +revenging the contempt with which Theobald had treated his +Shakspeare, and regaining the honour which he had lost, by crushing +his opponent. Theobald was not of bulk enough to fill a poem, and +therefore it was necessary to find other enemies with other names, +at whose expense he might divert the public. + +In this design there was petulance and malignity enough; but I +cannot think it very criminal. An author places himself uncalled +before the tribunal of criticism, and solicits fame at the hazard of +disgrace. Dulness or deformity are not culpable in themselves, but +may be very justly reproached when they pretend to the honour of wit +or the influence of beauty. If bad writers were to pass without +reprehension, what should restrain them? impune diem consumpserit +ingens Telephus; and upon bad writers only will censure have much +effect. The satire which brought Theobald and Moore into contempt +dropped impotent from Bentley, like the javelin of Priam. All truth +is valuable, and satirical criticism may be considered as useful +when it rectifies error and improves judgment; he that refines the +public taste is a public benefactor. The beauties of this poem are +well known; its chief fault is the grossness of its images. Pope +and Swift had an unnatural delight in ideas physically impure, such +as every other tongue utters with unwillingness, and of which every +ear shrinks from the mention. But even this fault, offensive as it +is, may be forgiven for the excellence of other passages; such as +the formation and dissolution of Moore, the account of the +Traveller, the misfortune of the Florist, and the crowded thoughts +and stately numbers which dignify the concluding paragraph. The +alterations which have been made in the "Dunciad," not always for +the better, require that it should be published, as in the present +collection, with all its variations. + +The "Essay on Man" was a work of great labour and long +consideration, but certainly not the happiest of Pope's +performances. The subject is perhaps not very proper for poetry; +and the poet was not sufficiently master of his subject; +metaphysical morality was to him a new study; he was proud of his +acquisitions, and, supposing himself master of great secrets, was in +haste to teach what he had not learned. Thus he tells us, in the +first Epistle, that from the nature of the Supreme Being may be +deduced an order of beings such as mankind, because infinite +excellence can do only what is best. He finds out that these beings +must be "somewhere;" and that "all the question is, whether man be +in a wrong place." Surely if, according to the poet's Leibnitzian +reasoning, we may infer that man ought to be, only because he is, we +may allow that his place is the right place, because he has it. +Supreme Wisdom is not less infallible in disposing than in creating. +But what is meant by SOMEWHERE, and PLACE, and WRONG PIECE, it had +been in vain to ask Pope, who probably had never asked himself. + +Having exalted himself into the chair of wisdom, he tells us much +that every man knows, and much that he does not know himself; that +we see but little, and that the order of the universe is beyond our +comprehension; an opinion not very uncommon; and that there is a +chain of subordinate beings "from infinite to nothing," of which +himself and his readers are equally ignorant. But he gives us one +comfort, which without his help he supposes unattainable, in the +position "that though we are fools, yet God is wise." + +This essay affords an egregious instance of the predominance of +genius, the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive powers +of eloquence. Never was penury of knowledge and vulgarity of +sentiment so happily disguised. The reader feels his mind full, +though he learns nothing; and, when he meets it in its new array, no +longer knows the talk of his mother and his nurse. When these +wonder-working sounds sink into sense, and the doctrine of the +essay, disrobed of its ornaments, is left to the powers of its naked +excellence, what shall we discover? That we are, in comparison with +our Creator, very weak and ignorant; that we do not uphold the chain +of existence; and that we could not make one another with more skill +than we are made. We may learn yet more that the arts of human life +were copied from the instinctive operations of other animals; that +if the world be made for man, it may be said that man was made for +geese. To these profound principles of natural knowledge are added +some moral instructions equally new; that self-interest, well +understood, will produce social concord; that men are mutual gainers +by mutual benefits; that evil is sometimes balanced by good; that +human advantages are unstable and fallacious, of uncertain duration +and doubtful effect; that our true honour is not to have a great +part, but to act it well; that virtue only is our own; and that +happiness is always in our power. Surely a man of no very +comprehensive search may venture to say that he has heard all this +before; but it was never till now recommended by such a blaze of +embellishments, or such sweetness of melody. The vigorous +contraction of some thoughts, the luxuriant amplification of others, +the incidental illustrations, and sometimes the dignity, sometimes +the softness of the verses, enchain philosophy, suspend criticism, +and oppress judgment by overpowering pleasure. This is true of many +paragraphs; yet, if I had undertaken to exemplify Pope's felicity of +composition before a rigid critic, I should not select the "Essay on +Man;" for it contains more lines unsuccessfully laboured, more +harshness of diction, and more thoughts imperfectly expressed, more +levity without elegance, and more heaviness without strength, than +will easily be found in all his other works. + +The "Characters of Men and Women" are the product of diligent +speculation upon human life; much labour has been bestowed upon +them, and Pope very seldom laboured in vain. That his excellence +may be properly estimated, I recommend a comparison of his +"Characters of Women" with Boileau's Satire; it will then be seen +with how much more perspicacity female nature is investigated, and +female excellence selected; and he surely is no mean writer to whom +Boileau should be found inferior. The "Characters of Men," however, +are written with more, if not with deeper, thought, and exhibit many +passages exquisitely beautiful. The "Gem and the Flower" will not +easily be equalled. In the women's part are some defects; the +character of Atossa is not so neatly finished as that of Clodio, and +some of the female characters may be found, perhaps, more frequently +among men; what is said of Philomede was true of Prior. + +In the Epistles to Lord Bathurst and Lord Burlington, Dr. Warburton +has endeavoured to find a train of thought which was never in the +writer's head, and, to support his hypothesis, has printed that +first which was published last. In one the most valuable passage is +perhaps the Elegy on Good Sense, and the other the end of the Duke +of Buckingham. + +The Epistle to Arbuthnot, now arbitrarily called the "Prologue to +the Satires," is a performance consisting, as it seems, of many +fragments wrought into one design, which, by this union of scattered +beauties, contains more striking paragraphs than could probably have +been brought together into an occasional work. As there is no +stronger motive to exertion than self-defence, no part has more +elegance, spirit, or dignity, than the poet's vindication of his own +character. The meanest passage is the satire upon Sporus. + +Of the two poems which derived their names from the year, and which +are called the "Epilogue to the Satires," it was very justly +remarked by Savage that the second was in the whole more strongly +conceived, and more equally supported, but that it had no single +passages equal to the contention in the first for the dignity of +Vice and the celebration of the triumph of Corruption. + +The "Imitations of Horace" seem to have been written as relaxations +of his genius. This employment became his favourite by its +facility; the plan was ready to his hand, and nothing was required +but to accommodate as he could the sentiments of an old author to +recent facts or familiar images; but what is easy is seldom +excellent. Such imitations cannot give pleasure to common readers; +the man of learning may be sometimes surprised and delighted by an +unexpected parallel, but the comparison requires knowledge of the +original, which will likewise often detect strained applications. +Between Roman images and English manners there will be an +irreconcilable dissimilitude, and the works will be generally +uncouth and parti-coloured, neither original nor translated, neither +ancient nor modern. + +Pope had, in proportions very nicely adjusted to each other, all the +qualities that constitute genius. He had INTENTION, by which new +trains of events are formed and new scenes of imagery displayed, as +in the "Rape of the Lock," and by which extrinsic and adventitious +embellishments and illustrations are connected with a known subject, +as in the "Essay on Criticism." He had IMAGINATION, which strongly +impresses on the writer's mind, and enables him to convey to the +reader the various forms of nature, incidents of life, and energies +of passion, as in his "Eloisa," "Windsor Forest," and "Ethic +Epistles." He had JUDGMENT, which selects from life or Nature what +the present purpose requires, and by separating the essence of +things from its concomitants, often makes the representation more +powerful than the reality; and he had colours of language always +before him, ready to decorate his matter with every grace of elegant +expression, as when he accommodates his diction to the wonderful +multiplicity of Homer's sentiments and descriptions. + +Poetical expression includes sound as well as meaning. "Music," +says Dryden, "is inarticulate poetry;" among the excellences of +Pope, therefore, must be mentioned the melody of his metre. By +perusing the works of Dryden, he discovered the most perfect fabric +of English verse, and habituated himself to that only which he found +the best; in consequence of which restraint his poetry has been +censured as too uniformly musical, and as glutting the ear with +unvaried sweetness. I suspect this objection to be the cant of +those who judge by principles rather than perception, and who would +even themselves have less pleasure in his works if he had tried to +relieve attention by studied discords, or affected to break his +lines and vary his pauses. But though he was thus careful of his +versification, he did not oppress his powers with superfluous +rigour. He seems to have thought with Boileau that the practice of +writing might be refined till the difficulty should overbalance the +advantage. The construction of the language is not always strictly +grammatical; with those rhymes which prescription had conjoined he +contented himself, without regard to Swift's remonstrances, though +there was no striking consonance, nor was he very careful to vary +his terminations or to refuse admission, at a small distance, to the +same rhymes. To Swift's edict for the exclusion of alexandrines and +triplets he paid little regard; he admitted them, but, in the +opinion of Fenton, too rarely; he uses them more liberally in his +translation than his poems. He has a few double rhymes, and always, +I think, unsuccessfully, except once in the "Rape of the Lock." +Expletives he very early ejected from his verses, but he now and +then admits an epithet rather commodious than important. Each of +the six first lines of the "Iliad" might lose two syllables with +very little diminution of the meaning, and sometimes, after all his +art and labour, one verse seems to be made for the sake of another. +In his latter productions the diction is sometimes vitiated by +French idioms, with which Bolingbroke had perhaps infected him. + +I have been told that the couplet by which he declared his own ear +to be most gratified was this:- + + +"Lo, where Maeotis sleeps, and hardly flows +The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows." + + +But the reason of this preference I cannot discover. + +It is remarked by Watts that there is scarcely a happy combination +of words, or a phrase poetically elegant in the English language, +which Pope has not inserted into his version of Homer. How he +obtained possession of so many beauties of speech it were desirable +to know. That he gleaned from authors, obscure as well as eminent, +what he thought brilliant or useful, and preserved it all in a +regular collection, is not unlikely. When, in his last years, +Hall's "Satires" were shown him, he wished that he had seen them +sooner. New sentiments and new images others may produce; but to +attempt any further improvement of versification will be dangerous. +Art and diligence have now done their best, and what shall be added +will be the effort of tedious toil and needless curiosity. After +all this, it is surely superfluous to answer the question that has +once been asked, Whether Pope was a poet, otherwise than by asking +in return, If Pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? To +circumscribe poetry by a definition will only show the narrowness of +the definer, though a definition which shall exclude Pope will not +easily be made. Let us look round upon the present time and back +upon the past; let us inquire to whom the voice of mankind has +decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions be examined, and +their claims stated, and the pretensions of Pope will be no more +disputed. Had he given the world only his version, the name of poet +must have been allowed him: if the writer of the "Iliad" were to +class his successors he would assign a very high place to his +translator, without requiring any other evidence of genius. + +The following letter, of which the original is in the hands of Lord +Hardwicke, was communicated to me by the kindness of Mr. Jodrell:- + + +"To MR. BRIDGES, at the Bishop of London's, at Fulham. + +"SIR,--The favour of your letter, with your remarks, can never be +enough acknowledged, and the speed with which you discharged so +troublesome a task doubles the obligation. + +"I must own you have pleased me very much by the commendations so +ill bestowed upon me; but I assure you, much more by the frankness +of your censure, which I ought to take the more kindly of the two, +as it is more advantage to a scribbler to be improved in his +judgment than to be smoothed in his vanity. The greater part of +those deviations from the Greek which you have observed I was led +into by Chapman and Hobbes; who are, it seems, as much celebrated +for their knowledge of the original as they are decried for the +badness of their translations. Chapman pretends to have restored +the genuine sense of the author from the mistakes of all former +explainers in several hundred places; and the Cambridge editors of +the large Homer, in Greek and Latin, attributed so much to Hobbes, +that they confess they have corrected the old Latin interpretation +very often by his version. For my part, I generally took the +author's meaning to be as you have explained it; yet their +authority, joined to the knowledge of my own imperfectness in the +language, overruled me. However, sir, you may be confident, I think +you in the right, because you happen to be of my opinion; for men +(let them say what they will) never approve any other's sense but as +it squares with their own. But you have made me much more proud of +and positive in my judgment, since it is strengthened by yours. I +think your criticisms which regard the expression very just, and +shall make my profit of them; to give you some proof that I am in +earnest, I will alter three verses on your bare objection, though I +have Mr. Dryden's example for each of them. And this, I hope, you +will account no small piece of obedience, from one who values the +authority of one true poet above that of twenty critics or +commentators. But, though I speak thus of commentators, I will +continue to read carefully all I can procure, to make up that way +for my own want of critical understanding in the original beauties +of Homer. Though the greatest of them are certainly those of +invention and design, which are not at all confined to the language; +for the distinguishing excellences of Homer are (by the consent of +the best critics of all nations), first in the manners (which +include all the speeches, as being no other than the representations +of each person's manners by his words): and then in that rapture +and fire, which carries you away with him, with that wonderful +force, that no man who has a true poetical spirit is master of +himself while he reads him. Homer makes you interested and +concerned before you are aware, all at once, where Virgil does it by +soft degrees. This, I believe, is what a translator of Homer ought +principally to imitate; and it is very hard for any translator to +come up to it, because the chief reason why all translations fall +short of their originals is, that the very constraint they are +obliged to renders them heavy and dispirited. + +"The great beauty of Homer's language, as I take it, consists in +that noble simplicity which runs through all his works (and yet his +diction, contrary to what one would imagine consistent with +simplicity, is at the same time very copious). I don't know how I +have run into this pedantry in a letter, but I find I have said too +much, as well as spoken too inconsiderately; what farther thoughts I +have upon this subject I shall be glad to communicate to you (for my +own improvement) when we meet, which is a happiness I very earnestly +desire, as I do likewise some opportunity of proving how much I +think myself obliged to your friendship, and how truly I am, sir, + +"Your most faithful humble servant, + +"A. POPE." + + +The criticism upon Pope's Epitaphs, which was printed in "The +Universal Visitor," is placed here, being too minute and particular +to be inserted in the Life. + +Every art is best taught by example. Nothing contributes more to +the cultivation of propriety than remarks on the works of those who +have most excelled. I shall therefore endeavour at this VISIT to +entertain the young students in poetry with an examination of Pope's +Epitaphs. + +To define an epitaph is useless; every one knows that it is an +inscription on a tomb. An epitaph, therefore, implies no particular +character of writing, but may be composed in verse or prose. It is, +indeed, commonly panegyrical, because we are seldom distinguished +with a stone but by our friends; but it has no rule to restrain or +mollify it except this, that it ought not to be longer than common +beholders may be expected to have leisure and patience to peruse. + + +On CHARLES Earl of DORSET, in the church of Wythyham in Sussex. + + Dorset, the grace of courts, the Muse's pride, +Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died. +The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great, +Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state; +Yet soft in nature, though severe his lay, +His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. +Blest satirist! who touched the means so true, +As showed Vice had his hate and pity too. +Blest courtier! who could king and country please, +Yet sacred kept his friendship and his ease. +Blest peer! his great forefathers' every grace +Reflecting, and reflected on his race; +Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine, +And patriots still, or pests, deck the line. + + +The first distich of this epitaph contains a kind of information +which few would want, that the man for whom the tomb was erected +DIED. There are indeed some qualities worthy of the praise ascribed +to the dead, but none that were likely to exempt him from the lot of +man, or incline us much to wonder that he should die. What is meant +by "judge of nature" is not easy to say. Nature is not the object +of human judgment; for it is in vain to judge where we cannot alter. +If by nature is meant what is commonly called NATURE by the critics, +a just representation of things really existing, and actions really +performed, nature cannot be properly opposed to ART; nature being, +in this sense, only the best effect of ART. + + +The scourge of pride - + + +Of this couplet the second line is not what is intended, an +illustration of the former. PRIDE in the GREAT, is indeed well +enough connected with knaves in state, though KNAVES is a word +rather too ludicrous and light; but the mention of SANCTIFIED pride +will not lead the thoughts to FOPS IN LEARNING, but rather to some +species of tyranny or oppression, something more gloomy and more +formidable than foppery. + + +Yet soft his nature - + + +This is a high compliment, but was not first bestowed on Dorset by +Pope. The next verse is extremely beautiful. + + +Blest satirist! - + + +In this distich is another line of which Pope was not the author. I +do not mean to blame these imitations with much harshness; in long +performances they are scarcely to be avoided, and in shorter they +may be indulged, because the train of the composition may naturally +involve them, or the scantiness of the subject allow little choice. +However, what is borrowed is not to be enjoyed as our own, and it is +the business of critical justice to give every bird of the Muses his +proper feather. + + +Blest courtier! - + + +Whether a courtier can properly be commended for keeping his EASE +SACRED, may perhaps be disputable. To please king and country +without sacrificing friendship to any change of times was a very +uncommon instance of prudence or felicity, and deserved to be kept +separate from so poor a commendation as care of his ease. I wish +our poets would attend a little more accurately to the use of the +word SACRED, which surely should never be applied in a serious +composition, but where some reference may be made to a higher Being, +or where some duty is exacted or implied. A man may keep his +friendship sacred, because promises of friendship are very awful +ties; but methinks he cannot, but in a burlesque sense, be said to +keep his ease SACRED. + + +Blest peer! - + + +The blessing ascribed to the PEER has no connection with his +peerage; they might happen to any other man whose posterity were +likely to be regarded. + +I know not whether this epitaph be worthy either of the writer or +the man entombed. + + +II. + +On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBULL, one of the principal Secretaries of State +to King WILLIAM III., who, having resigned his place, died in his +retirement at Easthamstead, in Berkshire, 1716. + + + A pleasing form, a firm, yet cautious mind, +Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resigned; +Honour unchanged, a principle profest. +Fixed to one side, but moderate to the rest; +An honest courtier, yet a patriot too, +Just to his prince, and to his country true; +Filled with the sense of age, the fire of youth, +A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth; +A generous faith, from superstition free; +A love to peace, and hate of tyranny; +Such this man was; who new from earth removed +At length enjoys that liberty he loved. + + +In this epitaph, as in many others, there appears at the first view +a fault which I think scarcely any beauty can compensate. The name +is omitted. The end of an epitaph is to convey some account of the +dead; and to what purpose is anything told of him whose name is +concealed? An epitaph, and a history of a nameless hero, are +equally absurd, since the virtues and qualities so recounted in +either are scattered at the mercy of fortune to be appropriated by +guess. The name, it is true, may be read upon the stone; but what +obligation has it to the poet, whose verses wander over the earth +and leave their subject behind them, and who is forced, like an +unskilful painter, to make his purpose known by adventitious help? +This epitaph is wholly without elevation, and contains nothing +striking or particular; but the poet is not to be blamed for the +defect of his subject. He said perhaps the best that could be said. +There are, however, some defects which were not made necessary by +the character in which he was employed. There is no opposition +between an HONEST COURTIER and a PATRIOT; for an HONEST, COURTIER +cannot but be a PATRIOT. It was unsuitable to the nicety required +in short compositions to close his verse with the word TOO; every +rhyme should be a word of emphasis: nor can this rule be safely +neglected, except where the length of the poem makes slight +inaccuracies excusable, or allows room for beauties sufficient to +overpower the effects of petty faults. + +At the beginning of the seventh line the word FILLED is weak and +prosaic, having no particular adaptation to any of the words that +follow it. The thought in the last line is impertinent, having no +connection with the foregoing character, nor with the condition of +the man described. Had the epitaph been written on the poor +conspirator who died lately in prison, after a confinement of more +than forty years, without any crime proved against him, the +sentiment had been just and pathetical; but why should Trumbull be +congratulated upon his liberty who had never known restraint? + + +III. + +On the Hon. SIMON HARCOURT, only son of the Lord Chancellor +HARCOURT, at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire, 1720. + + + To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near, +Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear; +Who ne'er knew joy, but friendship might divide, +Or gave his father grief but when he died. + How vain is reason, eloquence how weak! +If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. +Oh let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone, +And with a father's sorrows mix his own! + + +This epitaph is principally remarkable for the artful introduction +of the name, which is inserted with a peculiar felicity, to which +chance must concur with genius, which no man can hope to attain +twice, and which cannot be copied but with servile imitation. I +cannot but wish that, of this inscription, the two last lines had +been omitted, as they take away from the energy what they do not add +to the sense. + + +IV. + +On JAMES CRAGGS, Esq., in Westminster Abbey. + +JACOBVS CRAGS, +REGI MAGNAE BRITANNIAE A SECRETIS +ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBVS, +PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPVLI AMOR ET DELICIAE: +VIXIT TITLIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR +ANNOS HEV PAVCOS, XXXV. +OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX. + + Statesman, yet friend to truth; of soul sincere, +In action faithful, and in honour clear! +Who broke no premise, served no private end, +Who gained no title, and who lost no friend; +Ennobled by himself, by all approved, +Praised, wept, and honoured by the Muse he loved. + + +The lines on Craggs were not originally intended for an epitaph; and +therefore some faults are to be imputed to the violence with which +they are torn from the poems that first contained them. We may, +however, observe some defects. There is a redundancy of words in +the first couplet: it is superfluous to tell of him, who was +SINCERE, TRUE, and FAITHFUL, that he was IN HONOUR CLEAR. There +seems to be an opposition intended in the fourth line, which is not +very obvious: where is the relation between the two positions, that +he GAINED NO TITLE and LEST NO FRIEND? + +It may be proper here to remark the absurdity of joining in the same +inscription Latin and English or verse and prose. If either +language be preferable to the other, let that only be used; for no +reason can be given why part of the information should be given in +one tongue, and part in another on a tomb, more than in any other +place, or any other occasion; and to tell all that can be +conveniently told in verse, and then to call in the help of prose, +has always the appearance of a very artless expedient, or of an +attempt unaccomplished. Such an epitaph resembles the conversation +of a foreigner, who tells part of his meaning by words, and conveys +part by signs. + + +V. + +Intended for Mr. ROWE, in Westminster Abbey. + + + Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, +And sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust; +Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies, +To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes. +Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest! +Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest; +One grateful women to thy fame supplies +What a whole thankless land to his denies. + + +Of this inscription the chief fault is that it belongs less to Rowe, +for whom it was written, than to Dryden, who was buried near him; +and indeed gives very little information concerning either. + +To wish PEACE TO THY SHADE is too mythological to be admitted into a +Christian temple: the ancient worship has infected almost all our +other compositions, and might therefore be contented to spare our +epitaphs. Let fiction, at least, cease with life, and let us be +serious over the grave. + + +VI. + +On Mrs. CORBET, who died of a Cancer in her Breast. + + + Here rests a woman, good without pretence, +Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense; +No conquest she, but o'er herself, desired; +No arts essayed, but not to be admired. +Passion and pride were to her soul unknown, +Convinced that Virtue only is our own. +So unaffected, so composed a mind, +So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined, +Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried; +The saint sustained it, but the woman died. + + +I have always considered this as the most valuable of all Pope's +epitaphs; the subject of it is a character not discriminated by any +shining or eminent peculiarities; yet that which really makes, +though not the splendour, the felicity of life, and that which every +wise man will choose for his final and lasting companion in the +languor of age, in the quiet of privacy, when he departs weary and +disgusted from the ostentatious, the volatile, and the vain. Of +such a character, which the dull overlook and the gay despise, it +was fit that the value should be made known and the dignity +established. Domestic virtue, as it is exerted without great +occasions, or conspicuous consequences, in an even unnoted tenor, +required the genius of Pope to display it in such a manner as might +attract regard and enforce reverence. Who can forbear to lament +that this amiable woman has no name in the verses? If the +particular lines of this inscription be examined, it will appear +less faulty than the rest. There is scarce one line taken from +commonplaces, unless it be that in which ONLY VIRTUE is said to be +OUR OWN. I once heard a lady of great beauty and excellence object +to the fourth line that it contained an unnatural and incredible +panegyric. Of this let the ladies judge. + + +VII. + +On the Monument of the Hon. ROBERT DIGBY, and of his Sister MARY, +erected by their Father the Lord DIGBY in the church of Sherborne in +Dorsetshire, 1727 + + + Go! fair example of untainted youth, +Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth: +Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate, +Good without noise, without pretension great +Just of thy word, in every thought sincere, +Who knew no wish but what the world might hear: +Of softest manners, unaffected mind, +Lover of peace, and friend of human kind: +Go, live! for heaven's eternal year is thine, +Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine. + And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom. +Pensive hast followed to the silent tomb, +Steered the same course to the same quiet shore, +Not parted long, and now to part no more! +Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known! +Go, where to love and to enjoy are one! + Yet take these tears, Mortality's relief, +And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief: +These little rites a stone, a verse receive. +'Tis all a father, all a friend can give! + + +This epitaph contains of the brother only a general indiscriminate +character, and of the sister tells nothing but that she died. The +difficulty in writing epitaphs is to give a particular and +appropriate praise. This, however, is not always to be performed, +whatever be the diligence or ability of the writer; for the greater +part of mankind HAVE NO CHARACTER AT ALL, have little that +distinguishes them from others, equally good or bad, and therefore +nothing can be said of them which may not be applied with equal +propriety to a thousand more. It is indeed no great panegyric that +there is enclosed in this tomb one who was born in one year, and +died in another; yet many useful and amiable lives have been spent +which yet leave little materials for any other memorial. These are +however not the proper subjects of poetry; and whenever friendship, +or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on such subjects, he +must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in generalities, and utters +the same praises over different tombs. + +The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more apparent +than by remarking how often Pope has, in the few epitaphs which he +composed, found it necessary to borrow from himself. The fourteen +epitaphs which he has written comprise about a hundred and forty +lines, in which there are more repetitions than will easily be found +in all the rest of his works. In the eight lines which make the +character of Digby there is scarce any thought or word which may not +be found in the other epitaphs. The ninth line, which is far the +strongest and most elegant, is borrowed from Dryden. The conclusion +is the same with that on Harcourt, but is here more elegant and +better connected. + + +VIII. + +On Sir GODFREY KNELLER, in Westminster Abbey, 1723. + + + Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master, taught, +Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures thought; +Now for two ages, having snatched from fate +Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great, +Lies crowned with Princes, honours, Poets, lays, +Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise. + Living, great Nature feared he might outvie +Her works; and dying, fears herself may die. + + +Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, the +third is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word crowned not being +applicable to the honours or the lays, and the fourth is not only +borrowed from the epitaph on Raphael, but of a very harsh +construction. + + +IX. + +On General HENRY WITHERS, in Westminster Abbey, 1729. + + + Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, +Thy country's friend, but more of human kind. +O born to arms! O worth in youth approved! +O soft humanity in age beloved! +For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear, +And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere + Withers, adieu! yet not will thee remove +Thy martial spirit, or thy social love! +Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage, +Still leave some ancient virtues to our age: +Nor let us say (those English glories gone) +The last true Briton lies beneath this stone. + + +The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of commonplaces, +though somewhat diversified by mingled qualities, and the +peculiarity of a profession. The second couplet is abrupt, general, +and unpleasing; exclamation seldom succeeds in our language; and, I +think, it may be observed that the particle O! used at the beginning +of a sentence, always offends. The third couplet is more happy; the +value expressed for him, by different sorts of men, raises him to +esteem; there is yet something of the common cant of superficial +satirists, who suppose that the insincerity of a courtier destroys +all his sensations, and that he is equally a dissembler to the +living and the dead. At the third couplet I should wish the epitaph +to close, but that I should be unwilling to lose the two next lines, +which yet are dearly bought if they cannot be retained without the +four that follow them. + + +X. + +On Mr. ELIJAH FENTON, at Easthamstead in Berkshire, 1730. + + This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, +May truly say, Here lies an honest man: +A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, +Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great: +Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, +Content with science in the vale of peace. +Calmly he looked on either life, and here +Saw nothing to regret or there to fear; +From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, +Thanked Heaven that he lived, and that he died. + + +The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from Crashaw. The +four next lines contain a species of praise peculiar, original, and +just. Here, therefore, the inscription should have ended, the +latter part containing nothing but what is common to every man who +is wise and good. The character of Fenton was so amiable, that I +cannot forbear to wish for some poet or biographer to display it +more fully for the advantage of posterity. If he did not stand in +the first rank of genius, he may claim a place in the second; and, +whatever criticism may object to his writings, censure could find +very little to blame in his life. + + +XI. + +On Mr. GAY, in Westminster Abbey, 1732. + + Of manners gentle, of affections mild; +In wit, a muse; simplicity, a child: +With native humour tempering virtuous rage, +Formed to delight at once and lash the age: +Above temptation, in a low estate, +And uncorrupted, ev'n among the Great: +A safe companion and an easy friend, +Unbiased through life, lamented in thy end, +These are thy honours! not that here thy bust +Is mixed with heroes, or with kings thy dust; +But that the worthy and the Good shall say, +Striking their pensive bosoms--Here lies GAY. + + +As Gay was the favourite of our author this epitaph was probably +written with an uncommon degree of attention, yet it is not more +successfully executed than the rest, for it will not always happen +that the success of a poet is proportionate to his labour. The same +observation may be extended to all works of imagination, which are +often influenced by causes wholly out of the performer's power, by +hints of which he perceives not the origin, by sudden elevations of +mind which he cannot produce in himself, and which sometimes rise +when he expects them least. The two parts of the first line are +only echoes of each other; GENTLE MANNERS and MILD AFFECTIONS, if +they mean anything, must mean the same. + +That Gay was a MAN IN WIT is a very frigid commendation; to have the +wit of a man is not much for a poet. The WIT OF MAN and the +SIMPLICITY OF A CHILD make a poor and vulgar contrast, and raise no +ideas of excellence, either intellectual or moral. + +In the next couplet RAGE is less properly introduced after the +mention of MILDNESS and GENTLENESS, which are made the constituents +of his character; for a man so MILD and GENTLE to TEMPER his RAGE +was not difficult. The next line is inharmonious in its sound, and +mean in its conception; the opposition is obvious, and the word LASH +used absolutely, and without any modification, is gross and +improper. To be ABOVE TEMPTATION in poverty and FREE FROM +CORRUPTION AMONG THE GREAT is indeed such a peculiarity as deserved +notice. But to be a SAFE COMPANION is a praise merely negative, +arising not from possession of virtue but the absence of vice, and +that one of the most odious. + +As little can be added to his character by asserting that he was +LAMENTED IN HIS END. Every man that dies is, at least by the writer +of his epitaph, supposed to be lamented, and therefore this general +lamentation does no honour to Gay. + +The first eight lines have no grammar; the adjectives are without +any substantive, and the epithets without a subject. The thought in +the last line, that Gay is buried in the bosoms of the WORTHY and +GOOD, who are distinguished only to lengthen the line, is so dark +that few understand it, and so harsh, when it is explained, that +still fewer approve. + + +XII. + +Intended for Sir ISAAC NEWTON, in Westminster Abbey. + + +ISAACUS NEWTONIUS: +Quem Immortalem +Testantur, Tempus, Natura, Coelum: +Mortalem hoc marmor fatetur. +Nature, and Nature's laws, lay hid in night: +God said, Let Newton be! And all was light. + + +On this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be very few. +Why part should be Latin and part English it is not easy to +discover. In the Latin the opposition of IMMORTALIS and MORTALIS is +a mere sound, or a mere quibble; he is not IMMORTAL in any sense +contrary to that in which he is MORTAL. In the verses the thought +is obvious, and the words NIGHT and LIGHT are too nearly allied. + + +XIII. + + +On EDMUND Duke of BUCKINGHAM, who died in the 19th Year of his Age, +1735. + + + If modest youth, with cool reflection crowned, +And every opening virtue blooming round, +Could save a parent's justest pride from fate, +Or add one patriot to a sinking state; +This weeping marble had not asked thy tear, +Or sadly told how many hopes lie here! +The living virtue now had shone approved, +The senate heard him, and his country loved. +Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame, +Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham: +In whom a race, for courage famed and art, +Ends in the milder merit of the heart; +And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given, +Pays the last tribute of a saint to heaven. + + +This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest, but I know not for +what reason. To CROWN with REFLECTION is surely a mode of speech +approaching to nonsense. OPENING VIRTUES BLOOMING ROUND is +something like tautology; the six following lines are poor and +prosaic. ART is in another couplet used for ARTS, that a rhyme may +be had to HEART. The six last lines are the best, but not +excellent. + +The rest of his sepulchral performances hardly deserve the notice of +criticism. The contemptible dialogue between He and She should have +been suppressed for the author's sake. + +In his last epitaph on himself, in which he attempts to be jocular +upon one of the few things that make wise men serious, he confounds +the living man with the dead: + + +"Under this stone, or under this sill, +Or under this turf, &c." + + +When a man is once buried, the question, under what he is buried, is +easily decided. He forgot that though he wrote the epitaph in a +state of uncertainty, yet it could not be laid over him till his +grave was made. Such is the folly of wit when it is ill employed. + +The world has but little new, even this wretchedness seems to have +been borrowed from the following tuneless lines:- + + +"Ludovici Areosti humantur ossa +Sub hoc marmore, vel sub hac humo, seu +Sub quicquid voluit benignus haeres +Siv haerede benignior comes, seu +Opportunius incidens Viator: +Nam scire haud potuit futura, sed nec +Tanti erat vacuum sibi cadaver +Ut utnam cuperet parere vivens, +Vivens ista tamen sibi paravit. +Quae inscribi voluit suo sepulchro +Olim siquod haberetis sepulchrum." + + +Surely Ariosto did not venture to expect that his trifle would have +ever had such an illustrious imitator. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS *** + +This file should be named lvpc10.txt or lvpc10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, lvpc11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, lvpc10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/lvpc10.zip b/old/lvpc10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9a0192 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lvpc10.zip diff --git a/old/lvpc10h.htm b/old/lvpc10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8528d1a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lvpc10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6601 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore, Pope</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore, Pope, by Samuel Johnson</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lives of the English Poets: Prior, etc. +by Samuel Johnson +(#7 in our series by Samuel Johnson) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore, Pope + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5101] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 26, 2002] +[Most recently updated: April 26, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell and Company edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS: PRIOR, CONGREVE, BLACKMORE AND POPE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +INTRODUCTION<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +When, at the age of sixty-eight, Johnson was writing these “Lives +of the English Poets,” he had caused omissions to be made from +the poems of Rochester, and was asked whether he would allow the printers +to give all the verse of Prior. Boswell quoted a censure by Lord +Hailes of “those impure tales which will be the eternal opprobrium +of their ingenious author.” Johnson replied, “Sir, +Lord Hailes has forgot. There is nothing in Prior that will excite +to lewdness;” and when Boswell further urged, he put his questionings +aside, and added, “No, sir, Prior is a lady’s book. +No lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.” +Johnson distinguished strongly, as every wise man does, between offence +against convention, and offence against morality.<br> +<br> +In Congreve’s plays he recognised the wit but condemned the morals, +and in the case of Blackmore the regard for the religious purpose of +Blackmore’s poem on “The Creation” gave to Johnson, +as to Addison, an undue sense of its literary value.<br> +<br> +With his “Life of Pope,” which occupies more than two-thirds +of this volume, Johnson took especial pains. “He wrote it,” +says Boswell, “‘<i>con amore</i>,’ both from the early +possession which that writer had taken of his mind, and from the pleasure +which he must have felt in for ever silencing all attempts to lessen +his poetical fame. . . . I remember once to have heard Johnson say, +‘Sir, a thousand years may elapse before there shall appear another +man with a power of versification equal to that of Pope.’”<br> +<br> +Pope’s laurel, since Johnson’s days, has flourished, without +showing a dead bough, for all the frosts of hostile criticism.<br> +<br> +H. M.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PRIOR<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Matthew Prior is one of those that have burst out from an obscure original +to great eminence. He was born July 21, 1664, according to some, +at Wimborne, in Dorsetshire, of I know not what parents; others say +that he was the son of a joiner of London: he was perhaps willing enough +to leave his birth unsettled, in hope, like Don Quixote, that the historian +of his actions might find him some illustrious alliance. He is +supposed to have fallen, by his father’s death, into the hands +of his uncle, a vintner near Charing Cross, who sent him for some time +to Dr. Busby, at Westminster; but, not intending to give him any education +beyond that of the school, took him, when he was well advanced in literature, +to his own house, where the Earl of Dorset, celebrated for patronage +of genius, found him by chance, as Burnet relates, reading Horace, and +was so well pleased with his proficiency, that he undertook the care +and cost of his academical education. He entered his name in St. +John’s College, at Cambridge, in 1682, in his eighteenth year; +and it may be reasonably supposed that he was distinguished among his +contemporaries. He became a Bachelor, as is usual, in four years, +and two years afterwards wrote the poem on the Deity, which stands first +in his volume.<br> +<br> +It is the established practice of that College to send every year to +the Earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred subjects, in acknowledgment +of a benefaction enjoyed by them from the bounty of his ancestor. +On this occasion were those verses written, which, though nothing is +said of their success, seem to have recommended him to some notice; +for his praise of the countess’s music, and his lines on the famous +picture of Seneca, afford reason for imagining that he was more or less +conversant with that family.<br> +<br> +The same year he published “The City Mouse and Country Mouse,” +to ridicule Dryden’s “Hind and Panther,” in conjunction +with Mr. Montague. There is a story of great pain suffered, and +of tears shed, on this occasion by Dryden, who thought it hard that +“an old man should be so treated by those to whom he had always +been civil.” By tales like these is the envy raised by superior +abilities every day gratified. When they are attacked every one +hopes to see them humbled; what is hoped is readily believed, and what +is believed is confidently told. Dryden had been more accustomed +to hostilities than that such enemies should break his quiet; and, if +we can suppose him vexed, it would be hard to deny him sense enough +to conceal his uneasiness.<br> +<br> +“The City Mouse and Country Mouse” procured its authors +more solid advantages than the pleasure of fretting Dryden, for they +were both speedily preferred. Montague, indeed, obtained the first +notice with some degree of discontent, as it seems, in Prior, who probably +knew that his own part of the performance was the best. He had +not, however, much reason to complain, for he came to London and obtained +such notice that (in 1691) he was sent to the Congress at the Hague +as secretary to the embassy. In this assembly of princes and nobles, +to which Europe has perhaps scarcely seen anything equal, was formed +the grand alliance against Louis, which at last did not produce effects +proportionate so the magnificence of the transaction.<br> +<br> +The conduct of Prior, in this splendid initiation into public business, +was so pleasing to King William, that he made him one of the gentlemen +of his bedchamber; and he is supposed to have passed some of the next +years in the quiet cultivation of literature and poetry.<br> +<br> +The death of Queen Mary (in 1695) produced a subject for all the writers +- perhaps no funeral was ever so poetically attended. Dryden, +indeed, as a man discountenanced and deprived, was silent; but scarcely +any other maker of verses omitted to bring his tribute of tuneful sorrow. +An emulation of elegy was universal. Mary’s praise was not +confined to the English language, but fills a great part of the <i>Musæ +Anglicanæ.<br> +<br> +</i>Prior, who was both a poet and a courtier, was too diligent to miss +this opportunity of respect. He wrote a long ode, which was presented +to the king, by whom it was not likely to be ever read. In two +years he was secretary to another embassy at the Treaty of Ryswick (in +1697), and next year had the same office at the court of France, where +he is said to have been considered with great distinction. As +he was one day surveying the apartments at Versailles, being shown the +“Victories of Louis,” painted by Le Brun, and asked whether +the King of England’s palace had any such decorations: “The +monuments of my master’s actions,” said he, “are to +be seen everywhere but in his own house.”<br> +<br> +The pictures of Le Brun are not only in themselves sufficiently ostentatious, +but were explained by inscriptions so arrogant, that Boileau and Racine +thought it necessary to make them more simple. He was in the following +year at Leo with the king, from whom, after a long audience, he carried +orders to England, and upon his arrival became Under Secretary of State +in the Earl of Jersey’s office, a post which he did not retain +long, because Jersey was removed, but he was soon made Commissioner +of Trade.<br> +<br> +This year (1700) produced one of his longest and most splendid compositions, +the “Carmen Seculare,” in which he exhausts all his powers +of celebration. I mean not to accuse him of flattery; he probably +thought all that he writ, and retained as much veracity as can be properly +exacted from a poet professedly encomiastic. King William supplied +copious materials for either verse or prose. His whole life had +been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent qualities of steady +resolution and personal courage. He was really in Prior’s +mind what he represents him in his verses; he considered him as a hero, +and was accustomed to say that he praised others in compliance with +the fashion, but that in celebrating King William he followed his inclination. +To Prior, gratitude would dictate praise, which reason would not refuse.<br> +<br> +Among the advantages to arise from the future years of William’s +reign, he mentions a Society for Useful Arts, and among them:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“Some that with care true eloquence shall teach,<br> +And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech;<br> +That from our writers distant realms may know<br> + The thanks we to our monarchs owe,<br> +And schools profess our tongue through every land<br> +That has invoked his aid, or blessed his hand.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Tickell, in his “Prospect of Peace,” has the same hope of +a new academy:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“In happy chains our daring language bound,<br> +Shall sport no more in arbitrary sound.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Whether the similitude of those passages, which exhibit the same thought +on the same occasion, proceeded from accident or imitation, is not easy +to determine. Tickell might have been impressed with his expectation +by Swift’s “Proposal for Ascertaining the English Language,” +then lately published.<br> +<br> +In the Parliament that met in 1701 he was chosen representative of East +Grinstead. Perhaps it was about this time that he changed his +party, for he voted for the impeachment of those lords who had persuaded +the king to the Partition Treaty, a treaty in which he himself had been +ministerially employed.<br> +<br> +A great part of Queen Anne’s reign was a time of war, in which +there was little employment for negotiators, and Prior had, therefore, +leisure to make or to polish verses. When the Battle of Blenheim +called forth all the verse-men, Prior, among the rest, took care to +show his delight in the increasing honour of his country by an epistle +to Boileau. He published, soon afterwards, a volume of poems, +with the encomiastic character of his deceased patron, the Earl of Dorset. +It began with the College exercise, and ended with the “Nutbrown +Maid.”<br> +<br> +The Battle of Ramillies soon afterwards (in 1706) excited him to another +effort of poetry. On this occasion he had fewer or less formidable +rivals, and it would be not easy to name any other composition produced +by that event which is now remembered.<br> +<br> +Everything has its day. Through the reigns of William and Anne +no prosperous event passed undignified by poetry. In the last +war, when France was disgraced and overpowered in every quarter of the +globe, when Spain, coming to her assistance, only shared her calamities, +and the name of an Englishman was reverenced through Europe, no poet +was heard amidst the general acclamation; the fame of our counsellors +and heroes was entrusted to the <i>Gazetteer</i>. The nation in +time grew weary of the war, and the queen grew weary of her ministers. +The war was burdensome, and the ministers were insolent. Harley +and his friends began to hope that they might, by driving the Whigs +from court and from power, gratify at once the queen and the people. +There was now a call for writers, who might convey intelligence of past +abuses, and show the waste of public money, the unreasonable conduct +of the allies, the avarice of generals, the tyranny of minions, and +the general danger of approaching ruin. For this purpose a paper +called the <i>Examiner</i> was periodically published, written, as it +happened, by any wit of the party, and sometimes, as is said, by Mrs. +Manley. Some are owned by Swift; and one, in ridicule of Garth’s +verses to Godolphin upon the loss of his place, was written by Prior, +and answered by Addison, who appears to have known the author either +by conjecture or intelligence.<br> +<br> +The Tories, who were now in power, were in haste to end the war, and +Prior, being recalled (1710) to his former employment of making treaties, +was sent (July, 1711) privately to Paris with propositions of peace. +He was remembered at the French court; and, returning in about a month, +brought with him the Abbé Gaultier and M. Mesnager, a minister +from France, invested with full powers. This transaction not being +avowed, Mackay, the master of the Dover packet-boat, either zealously +or officiously, seized Prior and his associates at Canterbury. +It is easily supposed they were soon released.<br> +<br> +The negotiation was begun at Prior’s house, where the queen’s +ministers met Mesnager (September 20, 1711), and entered privately upon +the great business. The importance of Prior appears from the mention +made of him by St. John in his letter to the queen:-<br> +<br> +“My Lord Treasurer moved, and all my Lords were of the same opinion, +that Mr. Prior should be added to those who are empowered to sign; the +reason for which is because he, having personally treated with Monsieur +de Torcy, is the best witness we can produce of the sense in which the +general preliminary engagements are entered into; besides which, as +he is the best versed in matters of trade of all your Majesty’s +servants who have been trusted in this secret, if you shall think fit +to employ him in the future treaty of commerce, it will be of consequence +that he has been a party concerned in concluding that convention, which +must be the rule of this treaty.”<br> +<br> +The assembly of this important night was in some degree clandestine, +the design of treaty not being yet openly declared and when the Whigs +returned to power was aggravated to a charge of high treason; though, +as Prior remarks in his imperfect answer to the Report of the Committee +of Secrecy, no treaty ever was made without private interviews and preliminary +discussions.<br> +<br> +My business is not the history of the peace, but the life of Prior. +The conferences began at Utrecht on the 1st of January (1711-12), and +the English plenipotentiaries arrived on the 15th. The ministers +of the different potentates conferred and conferred; but the peace advanced +so slowly that speedier methods were found necessary, and Bolingbroke +was sent to Paris to adjust differences with less formality. Prior +either accompanied him or followed him, and after his departure had +the appointments and authority of an ambassador, though no public character. +By some mistake of the queen’s orders the court of France had +been disgusted, and Bolingbroke says in his letter, “Dear Mat, +- Hide the nakedness of thy country, and give the best turn thy fertile +brain will furnish thee with to the blunders of thy countrymen, who +are not much better politicians than the French are poets.”<br> +<br> +Soon after, the Duke of Shrewsbury went on a formal embassy to Paris. +It is related by Boyer that the intention was to have joined Prior in +the commission, but that Shrewsbury refused to be associated with a +man so meanly born. Prior therefore continued to act without a +title till the duke returned next year to England, and then he assumed +the style and dignity of ambassador. But while he continued in +appearance a private man, he was treated with confidence by Louis, who +sent him with a letter to the queen, written in favour of the Elector +of Bavaria. “I shall expect,” says he, “with +impatience, the return of Mr. Prior, whose conduct is very agreeable +to me.” And while the Duke of Shrewsbury was still at Paris, +Bolingbroke wrote to Prior thus:- “Monsieur de Torcy has a confidence +in you; make use of it, once for all, upon this occasion, and convince +him thoroughly that we must give a different turn to our Parliament +and our people according to their resolution at this crisis.”<br> +<br> +Prior’s public dignity and splendour commenced in August, 1713, +and continued till the August following; but I am afraid that, according +to the usual fate of greatness, it was attended with some perplexities +and mortifications. He had not all that is customarily given to +ambassadors: he hints to the queen in an imperfect poem that he had +no service of plate; and it appeared by the debts which he contracted +that his remittances were not punctually made.<br> +<br> +On the 1st of August, 1714, ensued the downfall of the Tories and the +degradation of Prior. He was recalled, but was not able to return, +being detained by the debts which he had found it necessary to contract, +and which were not discharged before March, though his old friend Montague +was now at the head of the Treasury. He returned, then, as soon +as he could, and was welcomed on the 25th of March by a warrant, but +was, however, suffered to live in his own house, under the custody of +the messenger, till he was examined before a committee of the Privy +Council, of which Mr. Walpole was chairman, and Lord Coningsby, Mr. +Stanhope, and Mr. Lechmere were the principal interrogators, who, in +this examination, of which there is printed an account not unentertaining, +behaved with the boisterousness of men elated by recent authority. +They are represented as asking questions sometimes vague, sometimes +insidious, and writing answers different from those which they received. +Prior, however, seems to have been overpowered by their turbulence; +for he confesses that he signed what, if he had ever come before a legal +judicature, he should have contradicted or explained away. The +oath was administered by Boscawen, a Middlesex justice, who at last +was going to write his attestation on the wrong side of the paper. +They were very industrious to find some charge against Oxford, and asked +Prior, with great earnestness, who was present when the preliminary +articles were talked of or signed at his house? He told them that +either the Earl of Oxford or the Duke of Shrewsbury was absent, but +he could not remember which, an answer which perplexed them, because +it supplied no accusation against either. “Could anything +be more absurd,” says he, “or more inhuman, than to propose +to me a question, by the answering of which I might, according to them, +prove myself a traitor? And notwithstanding their solemn promise +that nothing which I should say should hurt myself, I had no reason +to trust them, for they violated that promise about five hours after. +However, I owned I was there present. Whether this was wisely +done or no I leave to my friends to determine.” When he +had signed the paper, he was told by Walpole that the committee were +not satisfied with his behaviour, nor could give such an account of +it to the Commons as might merit favour; and that they now thought a +stricter confinement necessary than to his own house. “Here,” +says he, “Boscawen played the moralist, and Coningsby the Christian, +but both very awkwardly.” The messenger, in whose custody +he was to be placed, was then called, and very indecently asked by Coningsby +“if his house was secured by bars and bolts.” The +messenger answered, “No,” with astonishment. At which +Coningsby very angrily said, “Sir, you must secure this prisoner; +it is for the safety of the nation: if he escape, you shall answer for +it.”<br> +<br> +They had already printed their report; and in this examination were +endeavouring to find proofs.<br> +<br> +He continued thus confined for some time; and Mr. Walpole (June 10, +1715) moved for an impeachment against him. What made him so acrimonious +does not appear; he was by nature no thirster for blood. Prior +was a week after committed to close custody, with orders that “no +person should be admitted to see him without leave from the Speaker.” +When, two years after, an Act of Grace was passed, he was excepted, +and continued still in custody, which he had made less tedious by writing +his “Alma.” He was, however, soon after discharged. +He had now his liberty, but he had nothing else. Whatever the +profit of his employments might have been, he had always spent it; and +at the age of fifty-three was, with all his abilities, in danger of +penury, having yet no solid revenue but from the fellowship of his college, +which, when in his exaltation he was censured for retaining it, he said +he could live upon at last. Being, however, generally known and +esteemed, he was encouraged to add other poems to those which he had +printed, and to publish them by subscription. The expedient succeeded +by the industry of many friends, who circulated the proposals, and the +care of some who, it is said, withheld the money from him lest he should +squander it. The price of the volume was two guineas; the whole +collection was four thousand; to which Lord Harley, the son of the Earl +of Oxford, to whom he had invariably adhered, added an equal sum for +the purchase of Down Hall, which Prior was to enjoy during life, and +Harley after his decease. He had now, what wits and philosophers +have often wished, the power of passing the day in contemplative tranquillity. +But it seems that busy men seldom live long in a state of quiet. +It is not unlikely that his health declined, he complains of deafness; +“for,” says he, “I took little care of my ears while +I was not sure if my head was my own.”<br> +<br> +Of any occurrences of his remaining life I have found no account. +In a letter to Swift, “I have,” says he, “treated +Lady Harriet, at Cambridge (a Fellow of a College treat!) and spoke +verses to her in a gown and cap! What, the plenipotentiary, so +far concerned in the damned peace at Utrecht; the man that makes up +half the volume of terse prose, that makes up the report of the committee, +speaking verses! <i>Sic est, homo sum</i>.”<br> +<br> +He died at Wimpole, a seat of the Earl of Oxford, on the 18th of September, +1721, and was buried in Westminster; where on a monument, for which, +as the “last piece of human vanity,” he left five hundred +pounds, is engraven this epitaph:-<br> +<br> +<br> +Sui Temporis Historiam meditanti,<br> +Paulatim obrepens Febris<br> +Operi simul et Vitæ filum abrupit,<br> +Sept. 18. An. Dom. 1721. Ætat. 57.<br> +H.S.E.<br> +Vir Eximius Serenissimis<br> +Regi GULIELMO Reginæque MARIÆ<br> +In Congressione Fœderatorum<br> +Hagæ anno 1690 celebrata,<br> +Deinde Magnæ Britanniæ Legatis<br> +Tum iis,<br> +Qui anno 1697 Pacem RYSWICKI confecerunt,<br> +Tum iis,<br> +Qui apud Gallos annie proximis Legationem obierunt<br> +Eodem etiani anno 1657 in Hiberniâ<br> +SECRETARIUS;<br> +Necnon in utroque Honorabili consessu<br> +Eorum,<br> +Qui anno 1700 ordinandis Commercii negotiis,<br> +Quique anno 1711 dirigendis Portorii rebus,<br> +Præidebant,<br> +COMMISSIONARIUS;<br> +Postremo ab ANNA,<br> +Felicissimæ memoriæ Reginâ,<br> +Ad LUDOVICUM XIV. Galliæ Regem<br> +Missus anno 1711<br> +De Pace stabiliendâ<br> +(Pace etiam num durante<br> +Diuque ut boni jam omnes sperant duraturâ),<br> +Cum sunmâ potestate Legatus;<br> +MATTHÆS PRIOR Armiger<br> +Qui<br> +Hos omnes, quibus cumulates est, Titulos<br> +Humanitatis, Ingenii, Ereditionis laude<br> +Superavit;<br> +Cui enim nascenti faciles arriserant Mesæ.<br> +Hunc Puerum Schola hîc Regia perpolivit;<br> +Jevenem in Collegio S’ti Johannis<br> +Cantabrigia optimis Scientiis instruxit;<br> +Virum denique auxit, et perfecit,<br> +Multa cum viris Principibus censuetudo;<br> +Ita natus, ita institutus,<br> +A Vatam Choro avelli numquam potuit,<br> +Sed solebat sæpe rerum civilium gravitatem<br> +Amœniorum Literarum Studiis condire:<br> +Et cum omne adeo Poeticës genus<br> +Haud infeliciter tentaret,<br> +Tum in Fabellis concinne lepideque texendis<br> +Mirus Artifex<br> +Neminem habuit parem.<br> +Hæc liberalis animi oblectamenta:<br> +Quam nullo illi labore constiterint,<br> +Facile ii perspexêre, quibus usus est Amici;<br> +Apud quos Urbanitatem et Leporum plenus<br> +Cum ad rem, quæcunque forte inciderat,<br> +Aptè varie copiosèque alluderet,<br> +Interea nihil quæsitum, nihil vi expressum<br> +Videbatur,<br> +Sed omnia ultro effluere,<br> +Et quasi jugi è foote affatim exuberare,<br> +Ita suos tandem dubios reliquit,<br> +Essetne in Scriptis, Poeta Elegantior,<br> +An in Convictu, Comes Jocundior.<br> +<br> +<br> +Of Prior, eminent as he was, both by his abilities and station, very +few memorials have been left by his contemporaries; the account, therefore, +must now be destitute of his private character and familiar practices. +He lived at a time when the rage of party detected all which it was +any man’s interest to hide; and, as little ill is heard of Prior, +it is certain that not much was known. He was not afraid of provoking +censure; for when he forsook the Whigs, under whose patronage he first +entered the world, he became a Tory so ardent and determinate. that +he did not willingly consort with men of different opinions. He +was one of the sixteen Tories who met weekly, and agreed to address +each other by the title of <i>Brother; </i>and seems to have adhered, +not only by concurrence of political designs, but by peculiar affection, +to the Earl of Oxford and his family. With how much confidence +he was trusted has been already told.<br> +<br> +He was, however, in Pope’s opinion, fit only to make verses, and +less qualified for business than Addison himself. This was surely +said without consideration. Addison, exalted to a high place, +was forced into degradation by the sense of his own incapacity; Prior, +who was employed by men very capable of estimating his value, having +been secretary to one embassy, had, when great abilities were again +wanted, the same office another time; and was, after so much experience +of his own knowledge and dexterity, at last sent to transact a negotiation +in the highest degree arduous and important, for which he was qualified, +among other requisites, in the opinion of Bolingbroke, by his influence +upon the French minister, and by skill in questions of commerce above +other men.<br> +<br> +Of his behaviour in the lighter parts of life, it is too late to get +much intelligence. One of his answers to a boastful Frenchman +has been related; and to an impertinent he made another equally proper. +During his embassy he sat at the opera by a man who, in his rapture, +accompanied with his own voice the principal singer.<br> +<br> +Prior fell to railing at the performer with all the terms of reproach +that he could collect, till the Frenchman, ceasing from his song, began +to expostulate with him for his harsh censure of a man who was confessedly +the ornament of the stage. “I know all that,” says +the ambassador, “mais il chante si haut, que je ne sçaurois +vous entendre.”<br> +<br> +In a gay French company, where every one sang a little song or stanza, +of which the burden was “Bannissons la Mélancolie,” +when it came to his turn to sing, after the performance of a young lady +that sat next him, he produced these extemporary lines<br> +<br> +<br> +“Mais cette voix, et ces beaux yeux,<br> +Font Cupidon trop dangereux,<br> +Et je suis triste quand je crie<br> +Bannissons la Mélancolie.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Tradition represents him as willing to descend from the dignity of the +poet and statesman to the low delights of mean company. His Chloe +probably was sometimes ideal: but the woman with whom he cohabited was +a despicable drab of the lowest species. One of his wenches, perhaps +Chloe, while he was absent from his house, stole his plate and ran away, +as was related by a woman who had been his servant. Of his propensity +to sordid converse, I have seen an account so seriously ridiculous, +that it seems to deserve insertion.<br> +<br> +“I have been assured that Prior, after having spent the evening +with Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift, would go and smoke a pipe +and drink a bottle of ale with a common soldier and his wife in Long +Acre before he went to bed, not from any remains of the lowness of his +original, as one said, but I suppose that his faculties -<br> +<br> +<br> +“‘ - strained to the height,<br> +In that celestial colloquy sublime,<br> +Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repair.’”<br> +<br> +<br> +Poor Prior; why was he so <i>strained, </i>and in such <i>want of repair</i>, +after a conversation with men not, in the opinion of the world, much +wiser than himself? But such are the conceits of speculatists, +who <i>strain</i> their <i>faculties </i>to find in a mine what lies +upon the surface. His opinions, so far as the means of judging +are left us, seem to have been right; but his life was, it seems, irregular, +negligent, and sensual.<br> +<br> +<br> +Prior has written with great variety, and his variety has made him popular. +He has tried all styles, from the grotesque to the solemn, and has not +so failed in any as to incur derision or disgrace. His works may +be distinctly considered as comprising Tales, Love Verses, Occasional +Poems, “Alma,” and “Solomon.”<br> +<br> +His tales have obtained general approbation, being written with great +familiarity and great sprightliness; the language is easy, but seldom +gross, and the numbers smooth, without appearance of care. Of +these tales there are only four: “The Ladle,” which is introduced +by a preface, neither necessary nor pleasing, neither grave nor merry. +“Paulo Purganti,” which has likewise a preface, but of more +value than the tale. “Hans Carvel,” not over-decent; +and “Protogenes and Apelles,” an old story mingled, by an +affectation not disagreeable, with modern images. “The Young +Gentleman in Love” has hardly a just claim to the title of a tale. +I know not whether he be the original author of any tale which he has +given us. The adventure of Hans Carvel has passed through many +successions of merry wits, for it is to be found in Ariosto’s +“Satires,” and is perhaps yet older. But the merit +of such stories is the art of telling them.<br> +<br> +In his amorous effusions he is less happy; for they are not dictated +by nature or by passion, and have neither gallantry nor tenderness. +They have the coldness of Cowley, without his wit, the dull exercises +of a skilful versifier, resolved at all adventures to write something +about Chloe, and trying to be amorous by dint of study. His fictions, +therefore, are mythological. Venus, after the example of the Greek +epigram, asks when she was seen <i>naked and bathing</i>. Then +Cupid is <i>mistaken</i>; then Cupid is <i>disarmed; </i>then he loses +his darts to Ganymede; then Jupiter sends him a summons by Mercury. +Then Chloe goes a-hunting with an <i>ivory quiver graceful at her side</i>; +Diana mistakes her for one of her nymphs, and Cupid laughs at the blunder. +All this is surely despicable; and even when he tries to act the lover +without the help of gods or goddesses, his thoughts are unaffecting +or remote. He talks not “like a man of this world.”<br> +<br> +The greatest of all his amorous essays is “Henry and Emma,” +a dull and tedious dialogue, which excites neither esteem for the man +nor tenderness for the woman. The example of Emma, who resolves +to follow an outlawed murderer wherever fear and guilt shall drive him, +deserves no imitation; and the experiment by which Henry tries the lady’s +constancy is such as must end either in infamy to her or in disappointment +to himself.<br> +<br> +His occasional poems necessarily lost part of their value, as their +occasions, being less remembered, raised less emotion, Some of them, +however, are preserved by their inherent excellence. The burlesque +of Boileau’s ode on Namur has in some parts such airiness and +levity as will always procure it readers, even among those who cannot +compare it with the original. The epistle to Boileau is not so +happy. The “Poems to the King,” are now perused only +by young students, who read merely that they may learn to write; and +of the “Carmen Seculare,” I cannot but suspect that I might +praise or censure it by caprice without danger of detection; for who +can be supposed to have laboured through it? Yet the time has +been when this neglected work was so popular that it was translated +into Latin by no common master.<br> +<br> +His poem on the Battle of Ramillies is necessarily tedious by the form +of the stanza. An uniform mass of ten lines thirty-five times +repeated, inconsequential and slightly connected, must weary both the +ear and the understanding. His imitation of Spenser, which consists +principally in <i>I ween</i> and <i>I weet, </i>without exclusion of +later modes of speech, makes his poem neither ancient nor modern. +His mention of Mars and Bellona, and his comparison of Marlborough to +the eagle that bears the thunder of Jupiter, are all puerile and unaffecting; +and yet more despicable is the long tale told by Louis in his despair +of Brute and Troynovante, and the teeth of Cadmus, with his similes +of the raven and eagle and wolf and lion. By the help of such +easy fictions and vulgar topics, without acquaintance with life, and +without knowledge of art or nature, a poem of any length, cold and lifeless +like this, may be easily written on any subject.<br> +<br> +In his epilogues to Phædra and to Lucius he is very happily facetious; +but in the prologue before the queen the pedant has found his way with +Minerva, Perseus, and Andromeda.<br> +<br> +His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others, sometimes +elegant, sometimes trifling, and sometimes dull; among the best are +the “Chamelion” and the epitaph on John and Joan.<br> +<br> +Scarcely any one of our poets has written so much and translated so +little: the version of Callimachus is sufficiently licentious; the paraphrase +on St. Paul’s Exhortation to Charity is eminently beautiful.<br> +<br> +“Alma” is written in professed imitation of “Hudibras,” +and has at least one accidental resemblance: “Hudibras” +wants a plan because it is left imperfect; “Alma” is imperfect +because it seems never to have had a plan. Prior appears not to +have proposed to himself any drift or design, but to have written the +casual dictates of the present moment.<br> +<br> +What Horace said when he imitated Lucilius, might be said of Butler +by Prior; his numbers were not smooth nor neat. Prior excelled +him in versification; but he was, like Horace, <i>inventore minor</i>; +he had not Butler’s exuberance of matter and variety of illustration. +The spangles of wit which he could afford he knew how to polish; but +he wanted the bullion of his master. Butler pours out a negligent +profusion, certain of the weight, but careless of the stamp. Prior +has comparatively little, but with that little he makes a fine show. +“Alma” has many admirers, and was the only piece among Prior’s +works of which Pope said that he should wish to be the author.<br> +<br> +“Solomon” is the work to which he entrusted the protection +of his name, and which he expected succeeding ages to regard with veneration. +His affection was natural; it had undoubtedly been written with great +labour; and who is willing to think that he has been labouring in vain? +He had infused into it much knowledge and much thought; had often polished +it to elegance, often dignified it with splendour, and sometimes heightened +it to sublimity: he perceived in it many excellences, and did not discover +that it wanted that without which all others are of small avail - the +power of engaging attention and alluring curiosity.<br> +<br> +Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negligence or errors are +single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole; other faults are +censured and forgotten, but the power of tediousness propagates itself. +He that is weary the first hour is more weary the second, as bodies +forced into motion, contrary to their tendency, pass more and more slowly +through every successive interval of space. Unhappily this pernicious +failure is that which an author is least able to discover. We +are seldom tiresome to ourselves; and the act of composition fills and +delights the mind with change of language and succession of images. +Every couplet, when produced, is new, and novelty is the great source +of pleasure. Perhaps no man ever thought a line superfluous when +he first wrote it, or contracted his work till his ebullitions of invention +had subsided. And even if he should control his desire of immediate +renown, and keep his work <i>nine years</i> unpublished, he will be +still the author, and still in danger of deceiving himself: and if he +consults his friends he will probably find men who have more kindness +than judgment, or more fear to offend than desire to instruct. +The tediousness of this poem proceeds not from the uniformity of the +subject, for it is sufficiently diversified, but from the continued +tenor of the narration; in which Solomon relates the successive vicissitudes +of his own mind without the intervention of any other speaker or the +mention of any other agent, unless it be Abra; the reader is only to +learn what he thought, and to be told that he thought wrong. The +event of every experiment is foreseen, and therefore the process is +not much regarded. Yet the work is far from deserving to be neglected. +He that shall peruse it will be able to mark many passages to which +he may recur for instruction or delight; many from which the poet may +learn to write and the philosopher to reason.<br> +<br> +If Prior’s poetry be generally considered, his praise will be +that of correctness and industry, rather than of compass of comprehension +or activity of fancy. He never made any effort of invention: his +greater pieces are only tissues of common thoughts; and his smaller, +which consist of light images or single conceits, are not always his +own. I have traced him among the French epigrammatists, and have +been informed that he poached for prey among obscure authors. +The “Thief and Cordelier” is, I suppose, generally considered +as an original production, with how much justice this epigram may tell, +which was written by Georgius Sabinus, a poet now little known or read, +though once the friend of Luther and Melancthon:-<br> +<br> +<br> + “De <i>Sacerdote Furem consolante</i>.<br> +“Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus euntem<br> + Huc ubi dat sontes carnificina neci.<br> +Ne sis mœstus, ait; summi conviva Tonantis<br> + Jam cum coelitibus (si modo credis) eris.<br> +Ille gemens, si vera mihi solatia præbes,<br> + Hospes apud superos sis meus oro, refert.<br> +Sacrificus contra; mihi non convivia fas est<br> + Ducere, jejunas hac edo luce nihil.”<br> +<br> +<br> +What he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his judgment. +His diligence has justly placed him amongst the most correct of the +English poets; and he was one of the first that resolutely endeavoured +at correctness. He never sacrifices accuracy to haste, nor indulges +himself in contemptuous negligence, or impatient idleness; he has no +careless lines, or entangled sentiments; his words are nicely selected, +and his thoughts fully expanded. If this part of his character +suffers an abatement, it must be from the disproportion of his rhymes, +which have not always sufficient consonance, and from the admission +of broken lines into his “Solomon;” but perhaps he thought, +like Cowley, that hemistichs ought to be admitted into heroic poetry.<br> +<br> +He had apparently such rectitude of judgment as secured him from everything +that approached to the ridiculous or absurd; but as law operates in +civil agency, not to the excitement of virtue, but the repression of +wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect can hinder faults, +but not produce excellence. Prior is never low, nor very often +sublime. It is said by Longinus of Euripides, that he forces himself +sometimes into grandeur by violence of effort, as the lion kindles his +fury by the lashes of his own tail. Whatever Prior obtains above +mediocrity seems the effort of struggle and of toil. He has many +vigorous, but few happy lines; he has everything by purchase, and nothing +by gift; he had no <i>nightly visitations</i> of the Muse, no infusions +of sentiment or felicities of fancy. His diction, however, is +more his own than of any among the successors of Dryden; he borrows +no lucky turns, or commodious modes of language, from his predecessors. +His phrases are original, but they are sometimes harsh; as he inherited +no elegances, none has he bequeathed. His expression has every +mark of laborious study, the line seldom seems to have been formed at +once; the words did not come till they were called, and were then put +by constraint into their places, where they do their duty, but do it +sullenly. In his greater compositions there may be found more +rigid stateliness than graceful dignity.<br> +<br> +Of versification he was not negligent. What he received from Dryden +he did not lose; neither did he increase the difficulty of writing by +unnecessary severity, but uses triplets and alexandrines without scruple. +In his preface to “Solomon” he proposes some improvements +by extending the sense from one couplet to another with variety of pauses. +This he has attempted, but without success; his interrupted lines are +unpleasing, and his sense, as less distinct, is less striking. +He has altered the stanza of Spenser as a house is altered by building +another in its place of a different form. With how little resemblance +he has formed his new stanza to that of his master these specimens will +show:-<br> +<br> +<br> +SPENSER.<br> +<br> + “She flying fast from Heaven’s fated face,<br> +And from the world that her discovered wide,<br> +Fled to the wasteful wilderness space,<br> +From living eyes her open shame to hide,<br> +And lurked in rocks and caves long unespied.<br> +But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair,<br> +Did in that castle afterwards abide,<br> +To rest themselves, and weary powers repair,<br> +Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare?”<br> +<br> +<br> +PRIOR.<br> +<br> + “To the close rock the frightened raven flies,<br> +Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air;<br> +The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies,<br> +When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near.<br> +Ill-starred did we our forts and lines forsake,<br> +To dare our British foes to open fight:<br> +Our conquest we by stratagem should make;<br> +Our triumph had been founded in our flight.<br> +’Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain;<br> +’Tis theirs to meet in arms, and battle in the plain.”<br> +<br> +<br> +By this new structure of his lines he has avoided difficulties; nor +am I sure that he has lost any of the power of pleasing, but he no longer +imitates Spencer. Some of his poems are written without regularity +of measures; for, when he commenced poet, he had not recovered from +our Pindaric infatuation; but he probably lived to be convinced that +the essence of verse is order and consonance. His numbers are +such as mere diligence may attain; they seldom offend the ear, and seldom +soothe it; they commonly want airiness, lightness, and facility. +What is smooth is not soft. His verses always roll, but they seldom +flow.<br> +<br> +A survey of the life and writings of Prior may exemplify a sentence +which he doubtless understood well when he read Horace at his uncle’s, +“The vessel long retains the scent which it first receives.” +In his private relaxation he revived the tavern, and in his amorous +pedantry he exhibited the college. But on higher occasions and +nobler subjects, when habit was overpowered by the necessity of reflection, +he wanted not wisdom as a statesman, or elegance as a poet.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CONGREVE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +William Congreve descended from a family in Staffordshire of so great +antiquity, that it claims a place among the few that extend their hue +beyond the Norman Conquest, and was the son of William Congreve, second +son of Richard Congreve, of Congreve and Stratton. He visited, +once at least, the residence of his ancestors; and, I believe, more +places than one are still shown in groves and gardens, where he is related +to have written his <i>Old Bachelor.<br> +<br> +</i>Neither the time nor place of his birth is certainly known. +If the inscription upon his monument be true, he was born in 1672. +For the place, it was said by himself that he owed his nativity to England, +and by everybody else that he was born in Ireland. Southern mentioned +him with sharp censure as a man that meanly disowned his native country. +The biographers assigned his nativity to Bardsa, near Leeds, in Yorkshire, +from the account given by himself, as they suppose, to Jacob. +To doubt whether a man of eminence has told the truth about his own +birth is, in appearance, to be very deficient in candour; yet nobody +can live long without knowing that falsehoods of convenience or vanity, +falsehoods from which no evil immediately visible ensues, except the +general degradation of human testimony, are very lightly uttered, and +once uttered are sullenly supported. Boileau, who desired to be +thought a rigorous and steady moralist, having told a pretty lie to +Louis XIV., continued it afterwards by false dates; thinking himself +obliged <i>in honour, </i>says his admirer, to maintain what, when he +said it, was so well received. [Congreve was baptised at Bardsey, +February 10, 1670.]<br> +<br> +Wherever Congreve was born, he was educated first at Kilkenny, and afterwards +at Dublin, his father having some military employment that stationed +him in Ireland; but after having passed through the usual preparatory +studies, as may be reasonably supposed, with great celerity and success, +his father thought it proper to assign him a profession, by which something +might be gotten, and about the time of the Revolution sent him, at the +age of sixteen, to study law in the Middle Temple, where he lived for +several years, but with very little attention to statutes or reports. +His disposition to become an author appeared very early, as he very +early felt that force of imagination, and possessed that copiousness +of sentiment, by which intellectual pleasure can be given. His +first performance was a novel called “Incognita; or, Love and +Duty Reconciled;” it is praised by the biographers, who quote +some part of the preface, that is, indeed, for such a time of life, +uncommonly judicious. I would rather praise it than read it.<br> +<br> +His first dramatic labour was <i>The Old Bachelor</i>, of which he says, +in his defence against Collier, “That comedy was written, as several +know, some years before it was acted. When I wrote it I had little +thoughts of the stage; but did it to amuse myself in a slow recovery +from a fit of sickness. Afterwards, through my indiscretion it +was seen, and in some little time more it was acted; and I, through +the remainder of my indiscretion suffered myself to be drawn into the +prosecution of a difficult and thankless study, and to be involved in +a perpetual war with knaves and fools.”<br> +<br> +There seems to be a strange affectation in authors of appearing to have +done everything by chance. <i>The Old Bachelor </i>was written +for amusement in the languor of convalescence. Yet it is apparently +composed with great elaborateness of dialogue, and incessant ambition +of wit. The age of the writer considered, it is indeed a very +wonderful performance; for, whenever written, it was acted (1693) when +he was not more than twenty-one years old; and was then recommended +by Mr. Dryden, Mr. Southern, and Mr. Maynwaring. Dryden said that +he never had seen such a first play; but they found it deficient in +some things necessary to the success of its exhibition, and by their +greater experience fitted it for the stage. Southern used to relate +of one comedy, probably of this, that when Congreve read it to the players +he pronounced it so wretchedly, that they had almost rejected it; but +they were afterwards so well persuaded of its excellence that, for half +a year before it was acted, the manager allowed its author the privilege +of the house.<br> +<br> +Few plays have ever been so beneficial to the writer, for it procured +him the patronage of Halifax, who immediately made him one of the commissioners +for licensing coaches, and soon after gave him a place in the Pipe-office, +and another in the Customs, of six hundred pounds a year. Congreve’s +conversation must surely have been at least equally pleasing with his +writings.<br> +<br> +Such a comedy, written at such an age, requires some consideration. +As the lighter species of dramatic poetry professes the imitation of +common life, of real manners. and daily incidents, it apparently presupposes +a familiar knowledge of many characters, and exact observation of the +passing world; the difficulty, therefore, is to conceive how this knowledge +can be obtained by a boy.<br> +<br> +But if <i>The Old Bachelor </i>be more nearly examined, it will be found +to be one of those comedies which may be made by a mind vigorous and +acute, and furnished with comic characters by the perusal of other poets, +without much actual commerce with mankind. The dialogue is one +constant reciprocation of conceits or clash of wit, in which nothing +flows necessarily from the occasion, or is dictated by nature. +The characters, both of men and women, are either fictitious and artificial, +as those of Heartwell and the ladies, or easy and common, as Wittol, +a tame idiot; Bluff, a swaggering coward; and Fondlewife, a jealous +Puritan; and the catastrophe arises from a mistake, not very probably +produced, by marrying a woman in a mask. Yet this gay comedy, +when all these deductions are made, will still remain the work of very +powerful and fertile faculties; the dialogue is quick and sparkling, +the incidents such as seize the attention, and the wit so exuberant +that it “o’er-informs its tenement.”<br> +<br> +Next year he gave another specimen of his abilities in <i>The Double +Dealer, </i>which was not received with equal kindness. He writes +to his patron the Lord Halifax a dedication, in which he endeavours +to reconcile the reader to that which found few friends among the audience. +These apologies are always useless: <i>de gestibus non est disputandem</i>. +Men may be convinced, but they cannot be pleased, against their will. +But though taste is obstinate, it is very variable, and time often prevails +when arguments have failed. Queen Mary conferred upon both those +plays the honour of her presence; and when she died soon after, Congreve +testified his gratitude by a despicable effusion of elegiac pastoral, +a composition in which all is unnatural and yet nothing is new.<br> +<br> +In another year (1695) his prolific pen produced <i>Love for Love, </i>a +comedy of nearer alliance to life, and exhibiting more real manners, +than either of the former. The character of Foresight was then +common. Dryden calculated nativities; both Cromwell and King William +had their lucky days; and Shaftesbury himself, though he had no religion, +was said to regard predictions. The Sailor is not accounted very +natural, but he is very pleasant. With this play was opened the +New Theatre, under the direction of Betterton, the tragedian, where +he exhibited two years afterwards (1687) <i>The Mourning</i> <i>Bride, +</i>a tragedy, so written as to show him sufficiently qualified for +either kind of dramatic poetry. In this play, of which, when he +afterwards revised it, he reduced the versification to greater regularity; +there is more bustle than sentiment; the plot is busy and intricate, +and the events take hold on the attention; but, except a very few passages, +we are rather amused with noise and perplexed with stratagem, than entertained +with any true delineation of natural characters. This, however, +was received with more benevolence than any other of his works, and +still continues to be acted and applauded.<br> +<br> +But whatever objections may be made either to his comic or tragic excellence, +they are lost at once in the blaze of admiration, when it is remembered +that he had produced these four plays before he had passed his twenty-fifth +year, before other men, even such as are some time to shine in eminence, +have passed their probation of literature, or presume to hope for any +other notice than such as is bestowed on diligence and inquiry. +Among all the efforts of early genius, which literary history records, +I doubt whether any one can be produced that more surpasses the common +limits of nature than the plays of Congreve.<br> +<br> +About this time began the long-continued controversy between Collier +and the poets. In the reign of Charles I. the Puritans had raised +a violent clamour against the drama, which they considered as an entertainment +not lawful to Christians, an opinion held by them in common with the +Church of Rome; and Prynne published “Histriomastix,” a +huge volume in which stage-plays were censured. The outrages and +crimes of the Puritans brought afterwards their whole system of doctrine +into disrepute, and from the Restoration the poets and players were +left at quiet; for to have molested them would have had the appearance +of tendency to puritanical malignity. This danger, however, was +worn away by time, and Collier, a fierce and implacable non-juror, knew +that an attack upon the theatre would never make him suspected for a +Puritan; he therefore (1698) published “A Short View of the Immorality +and Profaneness of the English Stage,” I believe with no other +motive than religious zeal and honest indignation. He was formed +for a controvertist, with sufficient learning, with diction vehement +and pointed, though often vulgar and incorrect, with unconquerable pertinacity, +with wit in the highest degree and sarcastic, and with all those powers +exalted and invigorated by just confidence in his cause. Thus +qualified and thus incited, he walked out to battle, and assailed at +once most of the living writers, from Dryden to Durfey. His onset +was violent; those passages, which, while they stood single, had passed +with little notice, when they were accumulated and exposed together, +excited horror. The wise and the pious caught the alarm, and the +nation wondered why it had so long suffered irreligion and licentiousness +to be openly taught at the public charge.<br> +<br> +Nothing now remained for the poets but to resist or fly. Dryden’s +conscience or his prudence, angry as he was, withheld him from the conflict. +Congreve and Vanbrugh attempted answers. Congreve, a very young +man, elated with success, and impatient of censure, assumed an air of +confidence and security. His chief art of controversy is to retort +upon his adversary his own words: he is very angry, and hoping to conquer +Collier with his own weapons, allows himself in the use of every term +of contumely and contempt, but he has the sword without the arm of Scanderbeg; +he has his antagonist’s coarseness but not his strength. +Collier replied, for contest was his delight. “He was not +to be frighted from his purpose or his prey.”<br> +<br> +The cause of Congreve was not tenable; whatever glosses he might use +for the defence or palliation of single passages, the general tenour +and tendency of his plays must always be condemned. It is acknowledged, +with universal conviction, that the perusal of his works will make no +man better, and that their ultimate effect is to represent pleasure +in alliance with vice, and to relax those obligations by which life +ought to be regulated.<br> +<br> +The stage found other advocates, and the dispute was protracted through +ten years: but at last comedy grew more modest, and Collier lived to +see the reformation of the theatre.<br> +<br> +Of the powers by which this important victory was achieved, a quotation +from <i>Love for Love, </i>and the remark upon it, may afford a specimen:-<br> +<br> +<i>Sir Samps</i>. “Sampson’s a very good name; for +your Sampsons were strong dogs from the beginning.”<br> +<br> +<i>Angel</i>. “Have a care - if you remember, the strongest +Sampson of your name pulled an old house over his head at last.”<br> +<br> +“Here you have the sacred history burlesqued, and Sampson once +more brought into the house of Dagon, to make sport for the Philistines!”<br> +<br> +Congreve’s last play was <i>The Way of The World, </i>which, though, +as he hints in him dedication it was written with great labour and much +thought, was received with so little favour, that being in a high degree +offended and disgusted, he resolved to commit his quiet and his fame +no more to the caprices of an audience.<br> +<br> +From this time his life ceased to be public; he lived for himself and +his friends, and among his friends was able to name every man of his +time whom wit and elegance had raised to reputation. It may be +therefore reasonably supposed that his manners were polite, and his +conversation pleasing. He seems not to have taken much pleasure +in writing, as he contributed nothing to the <i>Spectator, </i>and only +one paper to the <i>Tatler</i>, though published by men with whom he +might be supposed willing to associate: and though he lived many years +after the publication of his “Miscellaneous Poems,” yet +he added nothing to them, but lived on in literary indolence, engaged +in no controversy, contending with no rival, neither soliciting flattery +by public commendations, nor provoking enmity by malignant criticism, +but passing his time among the great and splendid, in the placid enjoyment +of his fame and fortune.<br> +<br> +Having owed his fortune to Halifax, he continued, always of his patron’s +party, but, as it seems, without violence or acrimony, and his firmness +was naturally esteemed, as his abilities were reverenced. His +security therefore was never violated; and when, upon the extrusion +of the Whigs, some intercession was used lest Congreve should be displaced, +the Earl of Oxford made this answer:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora Pœni,<br> +Nec tam aversus equos Tyriâ sol jungit ab urbe.”<br> +<br> +<br> +He that was thus honoured by the adverse party might naturally expect +to be advanced when his friends returned to power, and he was accordingly +made secretary for the island of Jamaica, a place, I suppose without +trust or care, but which, with his post in the Customs, is said to have +afforded him twelve hundred pounds a year. His honours were yet +far greater than his profits. Every writer mentioned him with +respect, and among other testimonies to his merit, Steele made him the +patron of his “Miscellany,” and Pope inscribed to him his +translations of the “Iliad.” But he treated the muses +with ingratitude; for, having long conversed familiarly with the great, +he wished to be considered rather as a man of fashion than of wit; and, +when he received a visit from Voltaire, disgusted him by the despicable +foppery of desiring to be considered not as an author but a gentleman; +to which the Frenchman replied, “that, if he had been only a gentleman, +he should not have come to visit him.”<br> +<br> +In his retirement he may be supposed to have applied himself to books, +for he discovers more literature than the poets have commonly attained. +But his studies were in his later days obstructed by cataracts in his +eyes, which at last terminated in blindness. This melancholy state +was aggravated by the gout, for which he sought relief by a journey +to Bath: but, being overturned in his chariot, complained from that +time of a pain in his side, and died at his house in Surrey Street in +the Strand, January 29, 1728-9. Having lain in state in the Jerusalem +Chamber, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument is erected +to his memory by Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough, to whom, for reasons +either not known or not mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of about ten +thousand pounds, the accumulation of attentive parsimony, which, though +to her superfluous and useless, might have given great assistance to +the ancient family from which he descended, at that time, by the imprudence +of his relation, reduced to difficulties and distress.<br> +<br> +<br> +Congreve has merit of the highest kind; he is an original writer, who +borrowed neither the models of his plot nor the manner of his dialogue. +Of his plays I cannot speak distinctly, for since I inspected them many +years have passed, but what remains upon my memory is, that his characters +are commonly fictitious and artificial, with very little of nature, +and not much of life. He formed a peculiar idea of comic excellence, +which he supposed to consist in gay remarks and unexpected answers; +but that which he endeavoured, he seldom failed of performing. +His scenes exhibit not much of humour, imagery, or passion: his personages +are a kind of intellectual gladiators; every sentence is to ward or +strike; the contest of smartness is never intermitted; his wit is a +meteor playing to and fro with alternate coruscations. His comedies +have, therefore, in some degree, the operation of tragedies, they surprise +rather than divert, and raise admiration oftener than merriment. +But they are the works of a mind replete with images, and quick in combination.<br> +<br> +Of his miscellaneous poetry I cannot say anything very favourable. +The powers of Congreve seem to desert him when he leaves the stage, +as Antæus was no longer strong than when he could touch the ground. +It cannot be observed without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and fertile +in dramatic compositions should on any other occasion discover nothing +but impotence and poverty. He has in these little pieces neither +elevation of fancy, selection of language, nor skill in versification: +yet, if I were required to select from the whole mass of English poetry +the most poetical paragraph, I know not what I could prefer to an exclamation +in the “Mourning Bride”:-<br> +<br> +<br> +ALMERIA.<br> +<br> + It was a fancied noise; for all is hushed.<br> +<br> +LEONORA.<br> +<br> + It bore the accent of a human voice.<br> +<br> +ALMERIA.<br> +<br> + It was thy fear, or else some transient wind<br> +Whistling through hollows of this vaulted isle:<br> +We’ll listen -<br> +<br> +LEONORA.<br> +<br> + Hark!<br> +<br> +ALMERIA.<br> +<br> + No, all is hushed and still as death. - ’Tis +dreadful!<br> +How reverend is the face of this tall pile,<br> +Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,<br> +To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,<br> +By its own weight made steadfast and immovable,<br> +Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe<br> +And terror on my aching sight; the tombs<br> +And monumental caves of death look cold,<br> +And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.<br> +Give use thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;<br> +Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear<br> +Thy voice - my own affrights me with its echoes.<br> +<br> +<br> +He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet; he +feels what he remembers to have felt before, but he feels it with great +increase of sensibility; he recognises a familiar image, but meets it +again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty and enlarged with +majesty. Yet could the author, who appears here to have enjoyed +the confidence of Nature, lament the death of Queen Mary in lines like +these:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“The rocks are cleft, and new-descending rills<br> +Furrow the brows of all the impending hills.<br> +The water-gods to floods their rivulets turn,<br> +And each, with streaming eyes, supplies his wanting urn.<br> +The fauns forsake the woods, the nymphs the grove,<br> +And round the plain in sad distractions rove:<br> +In prickly brakes their tender limbs they tear,<br> +And leave on thorns their locks of golden hair.<br> +With their sharp nails, themselves the satyrs wound,<br> +And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with grief the ground.<br> +Lo Pan himself, beneath a blasted oak,<br> +Dejected lies, his pipe in pieces broke<br> +See Pales weeping too in wild despair,<br> +And to the piercing winds her bosses bare.<br> +And see yon fading myrtle, where appears<br> +The Queen of Love, all bathed in flowing tears;<br> +See how she wrings her hands, and beats her breast,<br> +And tears her useless girdle from her waist:<br> +Hear the sad murmurs of her sighing doves!<br> +For grief they sigh, forgetful of their loves.”<br> +<br> +<br> +And many years after he gave no proof that time had improved his wisdom +or his wit, for, on the death of the Marquis of Blandford, this was +his song:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“And now the winds, which had so long been still,<br> +Began the swelling air with sighs to fill;<br> +The water-nymphs, who motionless remained<br> +Like images of ice, while she complained,<br> +Now loosed their streams; as when descending rains<br> +Roll the steep torrents headlong o’er the plains.<br> +The prone creation who so long had gazed<br> +Charmed with her cries, and at her griefs amazed,<br> +Began to roar and howl with horrid yell,<br> +Dismal to hear, and terrible to tell!<br> +Nothing but groans and sighs were heard around,<br> +And echo multiplied each mournful sound.”<br> +<br> +<br> +In both these funeral poems, when he has <i>yelled </i>out many <i>syllables +</i>of senseless <i>dolour</i>, he dismisses his reader with senseless +consolation. From the grave of Pastora rises a light that forms +a star, and where Amaryllis wept for Amyntas from every tear sprung +up a violet. But William is his hero, and of William he will sing:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“The hovering winds on downy wings shall wait around,<br> +And catch, and waft to foreign lands, the flying sound.”<br> +<br> +<br> +It cannot but be proper to show what they shall have to catch and carry:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“’Twas now, when flowery lawns the prospect made,<br> +And flowing brooks beneath a forest shade,<br> +A lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd,<br> +Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepared<br> +Their arméd heads for light, by fate of war to prove<br> +The victor worthy of the fair one’s love;<br> +Unthought presage of what met next my view;<br> +For soon the shady scene withdrew.<br> +And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers,<br> +Behold a town arise, bulwarked with walls and lofty towers;<br> +Two rival armies all the plain o’erspread,<br> +Each in battalia ranged, and shining arms arrayed<br> +With eagle eyes beholding both from far,<br> +Namur, the price and mistress of the war.”<br> +<br> +<br> +The “Birth of the Muse” is a miserable fiction. One +good line it has which was borrowed from Dryden. The concluding +verses are these:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“This said, no more remained. The ethereal host<br> +Again impatient crowd the crystal coast.<br> +The father now, within his spacious hands,<br> +Encompassed all the mingled mass of seas and lands;<br> +And, having heaved aloft the ponderous sphere,<br> +He launched the world to float in ambient air.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Of his irregular poems, that to Mrs. Arabella Hunt seems to be the best; +his Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day, however, had some lines which Pope +had in his mind when he wrote his own. His imitations of Horace +are feebly paraphrastical, and the additions which he makes are of little +value. He sometimes retains what were more properly omitted, as +when he talks of <i>vervain</i> and <i>gums</i> to propitiate Venus.<br> +<br> +Of his Translations, the “Satire of Juvenal” was written +very early, and may therefore be forgiven, though it had not the massiness +and vigour of the original. In all his versions strength and sprightliness +are wanting; his “Hymn to Venus,” from Homer, is perhaps +the best. His lines are weakened with expletives, and his rhymes +are frequently imperfect. His petty poems are seldom worth the +cost of criticism; sometimes the thoughts are false and sometimes common. +In his verses on Lady Gethin, the latter part is in imitation of Dryden’s +ode on Mrs. Killigrew; and “Doris,” that has been so lavishly +flattered by Steele, has indeed some lively stanzas, but the expression +might be mended, and the most striking part of the character had been +already shown in “Love for Love.” His “Art of +Pleasing” is founded on a vulgar, but perhaps impracticable principle, +and the staleness of the sense is not concealed by any novelty of illustration +or elegance of diction. This tissue of poetry, from which he seems +to have hoped a lasting name, is totally neglected, and known only as +it is appended to his plays.<br> +<br> +While comedy or while tragedy is regarded, his plays are likely to be +read; but, except what relates to the stage, I know not that he has +ever written a stanza that is sung, or a couplet that is quoted. +The general character of his “Miscellanies” is that they +show little wit and little virtue. Yet to him it must be confessed +that we are indebted for the connection of a national error, and for +the cure of our Pindaric madness. He first taught the English +writers that Pindar’s odes were regular; and though certainly +he had not the lire requisite for the higher species of lyric poetry, +he has shown us that enthusiasm has its rules, and that in mere confusion +there is neither grace nor greatness.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +BLACKMORE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Sir Richard Blackmore is one of those men whose writings have attracted +much notice, but of whose life and manners very little has been communicated, +and whose lot it has been to be much oftener mentioned by enemies than +by friends. He was the son of Robert Blackmore, of Corsham in +Wiltshire, styled by Wood <i>Gentleman</i>, and supposed to have been +an attorney, having been for some time educated in a country school, +he was at thirteen sent to Westminster, and in 1668 was entered at Edmund +Hall in Oxford, where he took the degree of MA. June 8, 1676, and resided +thirteen years, a much longer time than is usual to spend at the university, +and which he seems to have passed with very little attention to the +business of the place; for, in his poems, the ancient names of nations +or places, which he often introduces, are pronounced by chance. +He afterwards travelled. At Padua he was made doctor of physic, +and, after having wandered about a year and a half on the Continent, +returned home.<br> +<br> +In some part of his life, it is not known when, his indigence compelled +him to teach a school, a humiliation with which, though it certainly +lasted but a little while, his enemies did not forget to reproach him, +when he became conspicuous enough to excite malevolence; and let it +be remembered for his honour, that to have been once a schoolmaster +is the only reproach which all the perspicacity of malice, animated +by wit, has ever fixed upon his private life.<br> +<br> +When he first engaged in the study of physic, he inquired, as he says, +of Dr. Sydenham, what authors he should read and was directed by Sydenham +to “Don Quixote”: “which” said he, “is +a very good book; I read it still.” The perverseness of +mankind makes it often mischievous to men of eminence to give way to +merriment; the idle and the illiterate will long shelter themselves +under this foolish apophthegm. Whether he rested satisfied with +this direction, or sought for better, he commenced physician, and obtained +high eminence and extensive practice. He became Fellow of the +College of Physicians, April 12, 1687, being one of the thirty which, +by the new charter of King James, were added to the former fellows. +His residence was in Cheapside, and his friends were chiefly in the +City. In the early part of Blackmore’s time a citizen was +a term of reproach; and his place of abode was another topic, to which +his adversaries had recourse in the penury of scandal.<br> +<br> +Blackmore, therefore, was made a poet not by necessity but inclination, +and wrote not for a livelihood but for fame; or, if he may tell his +own motives, for a nobler purpose, to engage poetry in the cause of +virtue.<br> +<br> +I believe it is peculiar to him that his first public work was an heroic +poem. He was not known as a maker of verses till he published +(in 1695) “Prince Arthur,” in ten books, written, as he +relates, “by such catches and starts, and in such occasional uncertain +hours as his profession afforded, and for the greatest part in coffee-houses, +or in passing up and down the streets.” For the latter part +of this apology he was accused of writing “to the rumbling of +his chariot wheels.” He had read, he says, “but little +poetry throughout his whole life; and for fifteen years before had not +written a hundred verses except one copy of Latin verses in praise of +a friend’s book.” He thinks, and with some reason, +that from such a performance perfection cannot be expected; but he finds +another reason for the severity of his censurers, which he expresses +in language such as Cheapside easily furnished. “I am not +free of the Poet’s Company, having never kissed the governor’s +hands: mine is therefore not so much as a permission poem, but a downright +interloper. Those gentlemen, who carry on their poetical trade +in a joint stock, would certainly do what they could to sink and ruin +an unlicensed adventurer, notwithstanding I disturbed none of their +factories, nor imported any goods they have ever dealt in.” +He had lived in the City till he had learned its note.<br> +<br> +That “Prince Arthur” found many readers is certain; for +in two years it had three editions, a very uncommon instance of favourable +reception, at a time when literary curiosity was yet confined to particular +classes of the nation. Such success naturally raised animosity; +and Dennis attacked it by a formal criticism, more tedious and disgusting +than the work which he condemns. To this censure may be opposed +the approbation of Locke, and the admiration of Molyneux, which are +found in their printed “Letters.” Molyneux is particularly +delighted with the song of Mopas, which is therefore subjoined to this +narrative.<br> +<br> +It is remarked by Pope, that “what raises the hero, often sinks +the man.” Of Blackmore is may be said that, as the poet +sinks, the man rises; the animadversions of Dennis, insolent and contemptuous +as they were, raised in him no implacable resentment; he and his critic +were afterwards friends; and in one of his latter works he praises Dennis +“as equal to Boileau in poetry, and superior to him in critical +abilities.” He seems to have been more delighted with praise +than pained by censure, and instead of slackening, quickened his career. +Having in two years produced ten books of “Prince Arthur,” +in two years more (1697) he sent into the world “King Arthur” +in twelve. The provocation was now doubled, and the resentment +of wits and critics may be supposed to have increased in proportion. +He found, however, advantages more than equivalent to all their outrages. +He was this year made one of the physicians in ordinary to King William, +and advanced by him to the honour of knighthood, with the present of +a gold chaise and medal. The malignity of the wits attributed +his knighthood to his new poem, but King William was not very studious +of poetry; and Blackmore perhaps had other merit, for he says in his +dedication to “Alfred,” that “he had a greater part +in the succession of the house of Hanover than ever he had boasted.”<br> +<br> +What Blackmore could contribute to the Succession, or what he imagined +himself to have contributed, cannot now be known. That he had +been of considerable use, I doubt not but he believed, for I hold him +to have been very honest; but he might easily make a false estimate +of his own importance. Those whom their virtue restrains from +deceiving others, are often disposed by their vanity to deceive themselves. +Whether he promoted the Succession or not, he at least approved it, +and adhered invariably to his principles and party through his whole +life.<br> +<br> +His ardour of poetry still continued; and not long after (1700) he published +a “Paraphrase on the Book of Job, and other parts of the Scripture.” +This performance Dryden, who pursued him with great malignity, lived +long enough to ridicule in a Prologue.<br> +<br> +The wits easily confederated against him, as Dryden, whose favour they +almost all courted, was his professed adversary. He had, besides, +given them reason for resentment, as, in his preface to “Prince +Arthur,” he had said of the dramatic writers almost all that was +alleged afterwards by Collier; but Blackmore’s censure was cold +and general, Collier’s was personal and ardent; Blackmore taught +his reader to dislike what Collier incited him to abhor.<br> +<br> +In his preface to “King Arthur” he endeavoured to gain at +least one friend, and propitiated Congreve by higher praise of his “Mourning +Bride” than it has obtained from any other critic.<br> +<br> +The same year he published a “Satire on Wit,” a proclamation +of defiance which united the poets almost all against him, and which +brought upon him lampoons and ridicule from every side. This he +doubtless foresaw, and evidently despised; nor should his dignity of +mind be without its praise, had he not paid the homage to greatness +which he denied to genius, and degraded himself by conferring that authority +over the national taste, which he takes from the poets, upon men of +high rank and wide influence, but of less wit and not greater virtue.<br> +<br> +Here is again discovered the inhabitant of Cheapside, whose head cannot +keep his poetry unmingled with trade. To hinder that intellectual +bankruptcy which he affects to fear he will erect a “Bank for +Wit.” In this poem he justly censured Dryden’s impurities, +but praised his powers, though in a subsequent edition he retained the +satire, and omitted the praise. What was his reason, I know not; +Dryden was then no longer in his way. His head still teemed with +heroic poetry; and (1705) he published “Eliza,” in ten books. +I am afraid that the world was now weary of contending about Blackmore’s +heroes, for I do not remember that by any author, serious or comical, +I have found “Eliza” either praised or blamed.<br> +<br> +She “dropped,” as it seems, “dead-born from the press.” +It is never mentioned, and was never seen by me till I borrowed it for +the present occasion. Jacob says “it is corrected and revised +from another impression,” but the labour of revision was thrown +away.<br> +<br> +From this time he turned some of his thoughts to the celebration of +living characters, and wrote a poem on the Kit-Cat Club, and “Advice +to the Poets how to celebrate the Duke of Marlborough” but on +occasion of another year of success, thinking himself qualified to give +more instruction, he again wrote a poem of “Advice to a Weaver +of Tapestry.” Steele was then publishing the <i>Tatler, +</i>and, looking round him for something at which he might laugh, unluckily +alighted on Sir Richard’s work, and treated it with such contempt +that, as Fenton observes, he put an end to that species of writers that +gave advice to painters.<br> +<br> +Not long after (1712) he published “Creation,” a philosophical +poem, which has been, by my recommendation, inserted in the late collection. +Whoever judges of this by any other of Blackmore’s performances +will do it injury. The praise given it by Addison (<i>Spectator</i>, +339) is too well known to be transcribed; but some notice is due to +the testimony of Dennis, who calls it a “philosophical poem, which +has equalled that of ‘Lucretius’ in the beauty of its versification, +and infinitely surpassed it in the solidity and strength of its reasoning.”<br> +<br> +Why an author surpasses himself it is natural to inquire. I have +heard from Mr. Draper, an eminent bookseller, an account received by +him from Ambrose Philips, “That Blackmore, as he proceeded in +this poem, laid his manuscript from time to time before a club of wits +with whom he associated, and that every man contributed, as he could, +either improvement or correction; so that,” said Philips, “there +are perhaps nowhere in the book thirty lines together that now stand +as they were originally written.”<br> +<br> +The relation of Philips, I suppose, was true; but when all reasonable, +all credible allowance is made for this friendly revision, the author +will still retain an ample dividend of praise; for to him must always +be assigned the plan of the work, the distribution of its parts, the +choice of topics, the train of argument, and, what is yet more, the +general predominance of philosophical judgment and poetical spirit. +Correction seldom effects more than the suppression of faults: a happy +line, or a single elegance, may perhaps be added; but of a large work, +the general character must always remain. The original constitution +can be very little helped by local remedies; inherent and radical dulness +will never be much invigorated by intrinsic animation. This poem, +if he had written nothing else, would have transmitted him to posterity +among the first favourites of the English muse; but to make verses was +his transcendent pleasure, and, as he was not deterred by censure, he +was not satiated with praise. He deviated, however, sometimes +into other tracks of literature, and condescended to entertain his readers +with plain prose. When the <i>Spectator</i> stopped, he considered +the polite world as destitute of entertainment, and in concert with +Mr. Hughes, who wrote every third paper, published three times a week +the “Lay Monastery,” founded on the supposition that some +literary men, whose characters are described, had retired to a house +in the country to enjoy philosophical leisure, and resolved to instruct +the public by communicating their disquisitions and amusements. +Whether any real persons were concealed under fictitious names is not +known. The hero of the club is one Mr. Johnson, such a constellation +of excellence, that his character shall not be suppressed, though there +is no great genius in the design nor skill in the delineation.<br> +<br> +“The first I shall name is Mr. Johnson, a gentleman that owes +to nature excellent faculties and an elevated genius, and to industry +and application many acquired accomplishments. His taste is distinguishing, +just, and delicate; his judgment clear, and his reason strong, accompanied +with an imagination full of spirit, of great compass, and stored with +refined ideas. He is a critic of the first rank and, what is his +peculiar ornament, he is delivered from the ostentation, malevolence, +and supercilious temper, that so often blemish men of that character. +His remarks result from the nature and reason of things, and are formed +by a judgment free and unbiassed by the authority of those who have +lazily followed each other in the same beaten track of thinking, and +are arrived only at the reputation of acute grammarians and commentators; +men who have been copying one another many hundred years without any +improvement, or, if they have ventured farther, have only applied in +a mechanical manner the rules of ancient critics to modern writings, +and with great labour discovered nothing but their own want of judgment +and capacity. As Mr. Johnson penetrates to the bottom of his subject, +by which means his observations are solid and natural, as well as delicate, +so his design is always to bring to light something useful and ornamental; +whence his character is the reverse to theirs, who have eminent abilities +in insignificant knowledge, and a great felicity in finding out trifles. +He is no less industrious to search out the merit of an author, than +sagacious in discerning his errors and defects, and takes more pleasure +in commending the beauties than exposing the blemishes of a laudable +writing. Like Horace, in a long work he can bear some deformities, +and justly lay them on the imperfection of human nature, which is incapable +of faultless productions. When an excellent drama appears in public, +and by its intrinsic worth attracts a general applause, he is not stung +with envy and spleen; nor does he express a savage nature in fastening +upon the celebrated author, dwelling upon his imaginary defects, and +passing over his conspicuous excellences. He treats all writers +upon the same impartial foot, and is not, like the little critics, taken +up entirely in finding out only the beauties of the ancient and nothing +but the errors of the modern writers. Never did any one express +more kindness and good-nature to young and unfinished authors, he promotes +their interests, protects their reputation, extenuates their faults, +and sets off their virtues, and by his candour guards them from the +severity of his judgment. He is not like those dry critics who +are morose because they cannot write themselves, but is himself master +of a good vein in poetry; and though he does not often employ it, yet +he has sometimes entertained his friends with his unpublished performances.”<br> +<br> +The rest of the lay monks seem to be but feeble mortals an comparison +with the gigantic Johnson, who yet, with all his abilities and the help +of the fraternity, could drive the publication but to forty papers, +which were afterwards collected into a volume, and called in the title +“A Sequel to the <i>Spectators</i>.”<br> +<br> +Some years afterwards (1716 and 1717) he published two volumes of essays +in prose, which can be commended only as they are written for the highest +and noblest purpose - the promotion of religion. Blackmore’s +prose is not the prose of a poet, for it is languid, sluggish, and lifeless; +his diction is neither daring nor exact, his flow neither rapid nor +easy, and his periods neither smooth nest strong. His account +of <i>wit </i>will show with how little clearness he is content to think, +and how little his thoughts are recommended by his language.<br> +<br> +“As to its efficient cause, <i>wit </i>owes its production to +an extraordinary and peculiar temperament in the constitution of the +possessor of it, in which is found a concurrence of regular and exalted +ferments, and an affluence of animal spirits, refined and rectified +to a great degree of purity; whence, being endowed with vivacity, brightness, +and celerity, as well in their reflections as direct motions, they become +proper instruments for the sprightly operations of the mind, by which +means the imagination can with great facility range the wide field of +Nature, contemplate an infinite variety of objects, and, by observing +the similitude and disagreement of their several qualities, single out +and abstract, and then suit and unite, those ideas which will best serve +its purpose. Hence beautiful allusions, surprising metaphors, +and admirable sentiments, are always ready at hand; and while the fancy +is full of images, collected from innumerable objects, and their different +qualities, relations, and habitudes, it can at pleasure dress a common +notion in a strange but becoming garb, by which, as before observed, +the same thought will appear a new one, to the great delight and wonder +of the hearer. What we call <i>genius</i> results from this particular +happy complexion in the first formation of the person that enjoys it, +and is Nature’s gift, but diversified by various specific characters +and limitations, as its active fire is blended and allayed by different +proportions of phlegm, or reduced and regulated by the contrast of opposite +ferments. Therefore, as there happens in the composition of facetious +genius a greater or less, though still an inferior, degree of judgment +and prudence, one man of wit will be varied and distinguished from another.”<br> +<br> +In these essays he took little care to propitiate the wits, for he scorns +to avert their malice at the expense of virtue or of truth.<br> +<br> +“Several, in their books, have many sarcastical and spiteful strokes +at religion in general; while others make themselves pleasant with the +principles of the Christian. Of the last kind this age has seen +a most audacious example in the book entitled ‘A Tale of a Tub.’ +Had this writing been published in a pagan or popish nation, who are +justly impatient of all indignity offered to the established religion +of their country, no doubt but the author would have received the punishment +he deserved. But the fate of this impious buffoon is very different, +for in a Protestant kingdom, zealous of their civil and religious immunities, +he has not only escaped affronts and the effects of public resentment, +but has been caressed and patronised by persons of great figure, and +of all denominations. Violent party-men, who differed in all things +besides, agreed in their turn to show particular respect and friendship +to this insolent derider of the worship of his country, till at last +the reputed writer is not only gone off with impunity, but triumphs +in his dignity and preferment. I do not know that any inquiry +or search was ever made after this writing, or that any reward was ever +offered for the discovery of the author, or that the infamous book was +ever condemned to be burnt in public. Whether this proceeds from +the excessive esteem and love that men in power, during the late reign, +had for wit, or their defect of zeal and concern for the Christian religion +will be determined best by those who are best acquainted with their +character.”<br> +<br> +In another place he speaks with becoming abhorrence of a <i>godless +author</i> who has burlesqued a Psalm. This author was supposed +to be Pope, who published a reward for any one that would produce the +coiner of the accusation, but never denied it, and was afterwards the +perpetual and incessant enemy of Blackmore.<br> +<br> +One of his essays is upon the spleen, which is treated by him so much +to his own satisfaction, that he has published the same thoughts in +the same words; first, in the “Lay Monastery,” then in the +“Essay,” and then in the “Preface to a Medical Treatise +on the Spleen.” One passage, which I have found already +twice, I will here exhibit, because I think it better imagined and better +expressed than could be expected from the common tenor of his prose:-<br> +<br> +“ - As the several combinations of splenetic madness and folly +produce an infinite variety of irregular under-standing, so the amicable +accommodation and alliance between several virtues and vices produce +an equal diversity in the dispositions and manners of mankind; whence +it comes to pass, that as many monstrous and absurd productions are +found in the moral as in the intellectual world. How surprising +is it to observe among the least culpable men, some whose minds are +attracted by heaven and earth with a seeming equal force; some who are +proud of humility; others who are censorious and uncharitable, yet self-denying +and devout; some who join contempt of the world with sordid avarice; +and others, who preserve a great degree of piety with ill-nature and +ungoverned passions. Nor are instances of this inconsistent mixture +less frequent among bad men, where we often with admiration see persons +at once generous and unjust, impious lovers of their country, and flagitious +heroes, good-natured sharpers, immoral men of honour, and libertines +who will sooner die than change their religion; and though it is true +that repugnant coalitions of so high a degree are found but in a part +of mankind, yet none of the whole mass, either good or bad, are entirely +exempted from some absurd mixture.”<br> +<br> +He about this time (August 22, 1716) became one of the elects of the +College of Physicians, and was soon after (October 1) chosen Censor. +He seems to have arrived late, whatever was the reason, at his medical +honours.<br> +<br> +Having succeeded so well in his book on Creation, by which he established +the great principle of all religion, he thought his undertaking imperfect, +unless he likewise enforced the truth of Revelation, and for that purpose +added another poem on “Redemption.” He had likewise +written before his “Creation” three books on the Nature +of Man.<br> +<br> +The lovers of musical devotion have always wished for a more happy metrical +version than they have yet obtained of the Book of Psalms. This +wish the piety of Blackmore led him to gratify, and he produced (1721) +“A New Version of the Psalms of David fitted to the Tunes used +in Churches,” which being recommended by the archbishops and many +bishops, obtained a license for its admission into public worship; but +no admission has it yet obtained, nor has it any right to come where +Brady and Tate have got possession. Blackmore’s name must +be added to those of many others who, by the same attempt, have obtained +only the praise of meaning well.<br> +<br> +He was not yet deterred from heroic poetry. There was another +monarch of this island (for he did not fetch his heroes from foreign +countries) whom he considered as worthy the epic muse, and he dignified +“Alfred” (1723) with twelve books. But the opinion +of the nation was now settled;<i> </i>a hero introduced by Blackmore +was not likely to find either respect or kindness; “Alfred” +took his place by “Eliza” in silence and darkness. +Benevolence was ashamed to favour, and malice was weary of insulting. +Of his four epic poems, the first had such reputation and popularity +as enraged the critics; the second was at least known enough to be ridiculed; +the two last had neither friends nor enemies.<br> +<br> +Contempt is a kind of gangrene, which, if it seizes one part of a character, +corrupts all the rest by degrees. Blackmore being despised as +a poet, was in time neglected as a physician; his practice, which was +once invidiously great, forsook him in the latter part of his life, +but being by nature, or by principle, averse from idleness, he employed +his unwelcome leisure in writing books on physic, and teaching others +to cure those whom he could himself cure no longer. I know not +whether I can enumerate all the treatises by which he has endeavoured +to diffuse the art of healing, for there is scarcely any distemper of +dreadful name which he has not taught the reader how to oppose. +He has written on the small-pox, with a vehement invective against inoculation; +on consumption, the spleen, the gout, the rheumatism, the king’s +evil, the dropsy, the jaundice, the stone, the diabetes, and the plague. +Of those books, if I had read them, it could nor be expected that I +should be able to give a critical account. I have been told that +there is something in them of vexation and discontent, discovered by +a perpetual attempt to degrade physic from its sublimity, and to represent +it as attainable without much previous or concomitant learning. +By the transient glances which I have thrown upon them I have observed +an affected contempt of the ancients, and a supercilious derision of +transmitted knowledge. Of this indecent arrogance the following +quotation from his preface to the “Treatise on the Small-pox” +will afford a specimen, in which, when the reader finds what I fear +is true, that, when he was censuring Hippocrates, he did not know the +difference between <i>aphorism </i>and <i>apophthegm, </i>he will not +pay much regard to his determinations concerning ancient learning.<br> +<br> +“As for this book of aphorisms, it is like my Lord Bacon’s +of the same title, a book of jests, or a grave collection of trite and +trifling observations; of which, though many are true and certain, yet +they signify nothing, and may afford diversion, but no instruction, +most of them being much inferior to the sayings of the wise men of Greece, +which yet are so low and mean, that we are entertained every day with +more valuable sentiments at the table conversation of ingenious and +learned men.”<br> +<br> +I am unwilling, however, to leave him in total disgrace, and will therefore +quote from another preface a passage less reprehensible.<br> +<br> +“Some gentlemen have been disingenuous and unjust to me, by wresting +and forcing my meaning, in the preface to another book, as if I condemned +and exposed all learning, though they knew I declared that I greatly +honoured and esteemed all men of superior literature and erudition, +and that I only undervalued false or superficial learning, that signifies +nothing for the service of mankind; and that as to physic, I expressly +affirmed that learning must be joined with native genius to make a physician +of the first rank;<i> </i>but if those talents are separated, I asserted, +and do still insist, that a man of native sagacity and diligence will +prove a more able and useful practiser than a heavy notional scholar, +encumbered with a heap of confused ideas.”<br> +<br> +He was not only a poet and a physician, but produced likewise a work +of a different kind, “A True and Impartial History of the Conspiracy +against King William of Glorious Memory in the Year 1695.” +This I have never seen, but suppose it is at least compiled with integrity. +He engaged likewise in theological controversy, and wrote two books +against the Arians: “Just Prejudices against the Arian Hypothesis,” +and “Modern Arians Unmasked.” Another of his works +is “Natural Theology; or, Moral Duties considered apart from Positive; +with some Observations on the Desirableness and Necessity of a Supernatural +Revelation.” This was the last book that he published. +He left behind him “The Accomplished Preacher; or, an Essay upon +Divine Eloquence,” which was printed after his death by Mr. White +of Nayland, in Essex, the minister who attended his death-bed, and testified +the fervent piety of his last hours. He died on the 8th of October, +1729.<br> +<br> +<br> +Blackmore, by the unremitted enmity of the wits, whom he provoked more +by his virtue than his dulness, has been exposed to worse treatment +than he deserved. His name was so long used to point every epigram +upon dull writers, that it became at last a byword of contempt but it +deserves observation, that malignity takes hold only of his writings, +and that his life passed without reproach, even when his boldness of +reprehension naturally turned upon him many eyes desirous to espy faults +which many tongues would have made haste to publish. But those +who could not blame, could, at least, forbear to praise, and therefore +of his private life and domestic character there are no memorials.<br> +<br> +As an author, he may justly claim the honours of magnanimity. +The incessant attacks of his enemies, whether serious or merry, are +never discovered to have disturbed his quiet, or to have lessened his +confidence in himself: they neither awed him to silence nor to caution: +they neither provoked him to petulance, nor depressed him to complaint. +While the distributors of literary fame were endeavouring to depreciate +and degrade him, he either despised or defied them, wrote on as he had +written before, and never turned aside to quiet them by civility, or +repress them by confutation. He depended with great security on +his own powers, and perhaps was for that reason less diligent in perusing +books. His literature was, I think, but small. What he knew +of antiquity, I suspect him to have gathered from modern compilers; +but, though he could not boast of much critical knowledge, his mind +was stored with general principles, and he left minute researches to +those whom he considered as little minds. With this disposition +he wrote most of his poems. Having formed a magnificent design, +he was careless of particular and subordinate elegances; he studied +no niceties of versification; he waited for no felicities of fancy, +but caught his first thoughts in the first words in which they were +presented; nor does it appear that he saw beyond his own performances, +or had ever elevated his was to that ideal perfection which every genius +born to excel is condemned always to pursue, and never overtake. +In the first suggestions of his imagination he acquiesced; he thought +them good, and did not seek for better. His works may be read +a long time without the occurrence of a single line that stands prominent +from the rest. The poem on “Creation” has, however, +the appearance of more circumspection; it wants neither harmony of numbers, +accuracy of thought, nor elegance of diction. It has either been +written with great care, or, what cannot be imagined of so long a work, +with such felicity as made care less necessary. Its two constituent +parts are ratiocination and description. To reason in verse is +allowed to be difficult; but Blackmore not only reasons in verse, but +very often reasons poetically; and finds the art of uniting ornament +with strength and ease with closeness. This is a skill which Pope +might have condescended to learn from him, when he needed it so much +in his “Moral Essays.”<br> +<br> +In his descriptions both of life and nature, the poet and the philosopher +happily co-operate; truth is recommended by elegance, and elegance sustained +by truth. In the structure and order of the poem, not only the +greater parts are properly consecutive, but the didactic and illustrative +paragraphs are so happily mingled, that labour is relieved by pleasure, +and the attention is led on through a long succession of varied excellence +to the original position, the fundamental principle of wisdom and of +virtue.<br> +<br> +As the heroic poems of Blackmore are now little read, it is thought +proper to insert, as a specimen from “Prince Arthur,” the +song of Mopas mentioned by Molyneux:-<br> +<br> +<br> + “But that which Arthur with most pleasure heard<br> +Were noble strains, by Mopas sung the bard,<br> +Who to his harp in lofty verse began,<br> +And through the secret maze of Nature ran.<br> +He the Great Spirit sung, that all things filled,<br> +That the tumultuous waves of Chaos stilled;<br> +Whose nod disposed the jarring seeds to peace,<br> +And made the wars of hostile Atoms cease.<br> +All Beings, we in fruitful Nature find,<br> +Proceeded from the Great Eternal mind:<br> +Streams of his unexhausted spring of power,<br> +And, cherished with his influence, endure.<br> +He spread the pure cerulean fields on high,<br> +And arched the chambers of the vaulted sky,<br> +Which he, to suit their glory with their height,<br> +Adorned with globes, that reel, as drunk with light.<br> +His hand directed all the tuneful spheres,<br> +He turned their orbs, and polished all the stars.<br> +He filled the Sun’s vast lamp with golden light:<br> +And bid the silver Moon adorn the night.<br> +He spread the airy Ocean without shores,<br> +Where birds are wafted with their feathered oars.<br> +Then sung the bard how the light vapours rise<br> +From the warm earth, and cloud the smiling skies;<br> +He sung how some, chilled in their airy flight,<br> +Fall scattered down in pearly dew by night;<br> +How some, raised higher, sit in secret steams<br> +On the reflected points of bounding beams,<br> +Till, chilled with cold, they shade th’ ethereal plain,<br> +Then on the thirsty earth descend in rain;<br> +How some, whose parts a slight contexture show,<br> +Sink hovering through the air in fleecy snow;<br> +How part is spun in silken threads, and clings<br> +Entangled in the grass is gluey strings;<br> +How others stamp to stones, with rushing sound<br> +Fall from their crystal quarries to the ground;<br> +How some are laid in trains, that kindled fly,<br> +In harmless fires by night, about the sky;<br> +How some in winds blow with impetuous force,<br> +And carry ruin where they bend their course,<br> +While some conspire to form a gentle breeze,<br> +To fan the air, and play among the trees;<br> +How some, enraged, grow turbulent and loud,<br> +Pent in the bowels of a frowning cloud,<br> +That cracks, as if the axis of the world<br> +Was broke, and Heaven’s bright towers were downwards hurled.<br> +He sung how earth’s wide ball, at Jove’s command,<br> +Did in the midst on airy columns stand;<br> +And how the soul of plants, in prison held,<br> +And bound with sluggish fetters, lies concealed,<br> +Till with the spring’s warm beams, almost released<br> +From the dull weight, with which it lay opprest,<br> +Its vigour spreads, and makes the teeming earth<br> +Heave up, and labour with the sprouting birth:<br> +The active spirit freedom seeks in vain,<br> +It only works and twists a stronger chain;<br> +Urging its prison’s sides to break a way,<br> +It makes that wider, where ’tis forced to stay:<br> +Till, having formed its living house, it rears<br> +Its head, and in a tender plant appears.<br> +Hence springs the oak, the beauty of the grove,<br> +Whose stately trunk fierce storms can scarcely move.<br> +Hence grows the cedar, hence the swelling vine<br> +Does round the elm its purple clusters twine.<br> +Hence painted flowers the smiling gardens bless,<br> +Both with their fragrant scent and gaudy dress.<br> +Hence the white lily in full beauty grows,<br> +Hence the blue violet and blushing rose.<br> +He sung how sunbeams brood upon the earth,<br> +And in the glebe hatch such a numerous birth;<br> +Which way the genial warmth in Summer storms<br> +Turns putrid vapours to a bed of worms;<br> +How rain, transformed by this prolific power,<br> +Falls from the clouds an animated shower.<br> +He sung the embryo’s growth within the womb,<br> +And how the parts their various shapes assume.<br> +With what rare art the wondrous structure’s wrought,<br> +From one crude mass to such perfection brought;<br> +That no part useless, none misplaced we see,<br> +None are forgot, and more would monstrous be.”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +POPE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Alexander Pope was born in London, May 22, 1688, of parents whose rank +or station was never ascertained: we are informed that they were of +“gentle blood;” that his father was of a family of which +the Earl of Downe was the head, and that his mother was the daughter +of William Turner, Esquire, of York, who had likewise three sons, one +of whom had the honour of being killed, and the other of dying, in the +service of Charles the First; the third was made a general officer in +Spain, from whom the sister inherited what sequestrations and forfeitures +had left in the family. This, and this only, is told by Pope, +who is more willing, as I have heard observed, to show what his father +was not, than what he was. It is allowed that he grew rich by +trade; but whether in a shop or on the Exchange was never discovered +till Mr. Tyers told, on the authority of Mrs. Racket, that he was a +linendraper in the Strand. Both parents were Papists.<br> +<br> +Pope was from his birth of a constitution tender and delicate, but is +said to have shown remarkable gentleness and sweetness of disposition. +The weakness of his body continued through his life, but the mildness +of his mind perhaps ended with his childhood. His voice when he +was young was so pleasing, that he was called in fondness “The +Little Nightingale.”<br> +<br> +Being not sent early to school, he was taught to read by an aunt; and, +when he was seven or eight years old, became a lover of books. +He first learned to write by imitating printed books, a species of penmanship +in which he retained great excellence through his whole life, though +his ordinary hand was not elegant. When he was about eight he +was placed in Hampshire, under Taverner, a Romish priest, who, by a +method very rarely practised, taught him the Greek and Latin rudiments +together. He was now first regularly initiated in poetry by the +perusal of “Ogilby’s Homer” and “Sandys’ +Ovid.” Ogilby’s assistance he never repaid with any +praise; but of Sandys he declared, in his notes to the “Iliad,” +that English poetry owed much of its beauty to his translations. +Sandys very rarely attempted original composition.<br> +<br> +From the care of Taverner, under whom his proficiency was considerable, +he was removed to a school at Twyford, near Winchester, and again to +another school about Hyde Park Corner, from which he used sometimes +to stroll to the play-hones, and was so delighted with theatrical exhibitions, +that he formed a kind of play from “Ogilby’s Iliad,” +with some verses of his own intermixed, which he persuaded his schoolfellows +to act, with the addition of his master’s gardener, who personated +Ajax.<br> +<br> +At the two last schools he used to represent himself as having lost +part of what Taverner had taught him, and on his master at Twyford he +had already exercised his poetry in a lampoon. Yet under those +masters he translated more than a fourth part of the “Metamorphoses.” +If he kept the same proportion in his other exercises, it cannot be +thought that his loss was great. He tells of himself, in his poems, +that “he lisped in numbers;” and used to say that he could +not remember the time when he began to make verses. In the style +of fiction, it might have been said of him, as of Pindar, that when +he lay in his cradle “the bees swarmed about his mouth.”<br> +<br> +About the time of the Revolution his father, who was undoubtedly disappointed +by the sudden blast of Popish prosperity, quitted his trade, and retired +to Binfield, in Windsor Forest, with about twenty thousand pounds, for +which, being conscientiously determined not to entrust it to the Government, +he found no better use than that of locking it up in a chest, and taking +from it what his expenses required; and his life was long enough to +consume a great part of it before his son came to the inheritance.<br> +<br> +To Binfield Pope was called by his father when he was about twelve years +old, and there he had for a few months the assistance of one Deane, +another priest, of whom he learned only to construe a little of “Tully’s +Offices.” How Mr. Deane could spend with a boy who had translated +so much of “Ovid” some months over a small part of “Tully’s +Offices,” it is now vain to inquire. Of a youth so successfully +employed, and so conspicuously improved, a minute account must be naturally +desired; but curiosity must be contented with confused, imperfect, and +sometimes improbable intelligence. Pope, finding little advantage +from external help, resolved thenceforward to direct himself, and at +twelve formed a plan of study, which he completed with little other +incitement than the desire of excellence. His primary and principal +purpose was to be a poet, with which his father accidentally concurred +by proposing subjects and obliging him to correct his performances by +many revisals, after which the old gentleman, when he was satisfied, +would say, “These are good rhymes.” In his perusal +of the English poets he soon distinguished the versification of Dryden, +which he considered as the model to be studied, and was impressed with +such veneration for his instructor, that he persuaded some friends to +take him to the coffee-house which Dryden frequented, and pleased himself +with having seen him.<br> +<br> +Dryden died May 1, 1701, some days before Pope was twelve; so early +must he therefore have felt the power of harmony, and the zeal of genius. +Who does not wish that Dryden could have known the value of the homage +that was paid him, and foreseen the greatness of his young admirer?<br> +<br> +The earliest of Pope’s productions is his “Ode on Solitude,” +written before he was twelve, in which there is nothing more than other +forward boys have attained, and which is not equal to Cowley’s +performance at the same age. His time was now wholly spent in +reading and writing. As he read the classics he amused himself +with translating them, and at fourteen made a version of the first book +of the “Thebais,” which, with some revision, he afterwards +published. He must have been at this time, if he had no help, +a considerable proficient in the Latin tongue.<br> +<br> +By Dryden’s fables, which had then been not long published, and +were much in the hands of poetical readers, he was tempted to try his +own skill in giving Chaucer a more fashionable appearance, and put “January +and May” and the “Prologue of the Wife of Bath” into +modern English. He translated likewise the Epistle of “Sappho +to Phaon” from Ovid, to complete the version, which was before +imperfect, and wrote some other small pieces, which he afterwards printed. +He sometimes imitated the English poets, and professed to have written +at fourteen his poem upon “Silence,” after Rochester’s +“Nothing.” He had now formed his versification, and +the smoothness of his numbers surpassed his original; but this is a +small part of his praise; he discovers such acquaintance both with human +life and public affairs as is not easily conceived to have been attainable +by a boy of fourteen in Windsor Forest.<br> +<br> +Next year he was desirous of opening to himself new sources of knowledge, +by making himself acquainted with modern languages, and removed for +a time to London, that he might study French and Italian, which, as +he desired nothing more than to read them, were by diligent application +soon despatched. Of Italian learning he does not appear to have +ever made much use in his subsequent studies. He then returned +to Binfield, and delighted himself with his own poetry. He tried +all styles, and many subjects. He wrote a comedy, a tragedy, an +epic poem, with panegyrics on all the princes of Europe; and, as he +confesses, “thought himself the greatest genius that ever was.” +Self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings. +He, indeed, who forms his opinion of himself in solitude, without knowing +the powers of other men, is very liable to error; but it was the felicity +of Pope to rate himself at his real value. Most of his puerile +productions were, by his maturer judgment, afterwards destroyed. +“Alcander,” the epic poem, was burnt by the persuasion of +Atterbury. The tragedy was founded on the legend of St. Genevieve. +Of the comedy there is no account. Concerning his studies, it +is related that he translated “Tully on Old Age,” and that, +besides his books of poetry and criticisms, he read “Temple’s +Essays” and “Locke on Human Understanding.” +His reading, though his favourite authors are not known, appears to +have been sufficiently extensive and multifarious, for his early pieces +show with sufficient evidence his knowledge of books. He that +is pleased with himself easily imagines that he shall please others. +Sir William Trumbull, who had been Ambassador at Constantinople, and +Secretary of State, when he retired from business, fixed his residence +in the neighbourhood of Binfield. Pope, not yet sixteen, was introduced +to the statesman of sixty, and so distinguished himself that their interviews +ended in friendship and correspondence. Pope was, through his +whole life, ambitious of splendid acquaintance; and he seems to have +wanted neither diligence nor success in attracting the notice of the +great, for, from his first entrance into the world, and his entrance +was very early, he was admitted to familiarity with those whose rank +or station made them most conspicuous.<br> +<br> +From the age of sixteen the life of Pope, as an author, may be properly +computed. He now wrote his pastorals, which were shown to the +poets and critics of that time. As they well deserved, they were +read with admiration, and many praises were bestowed upon them and upon +the preface, which is both elegant and learned in a high degree; they +were, however, not published till five years afterwards.<br> +<br> +Cowley, Milton, and Pope are distinguished among the English poets by +the early exertion of their powers, but the works of Cowley alone were +published in his childhood, and, therefore, of him only can it be certain +that his puerile performances received no improvement from his maturer +studies.<br> +<br> +At this time began his acquaintance with Wycherley, a man who seems +to have had among his contemporaries his full share of reputation, to +have been esteemed without virtue, and caressed without good humour. +Pope was proud of his notice. Wycherley wrote verses in his praise, +which he was charged by Dennis with writing to himself, and they agreed +for a while to flatter one another. It is pleasant to remark how +soon Pope learned the cant of an author, and began to treat critics +with contempt, though he had yet suffered nothing from them. But +the fondness of Wycherley was too violent to last. His esteem +of Pope was such that he submitted some poems to his revision, and when +Pope, perhaps proud of such confidence, was sufficiently bold in his +criticisms, and liberal in his alterations, the old scribbler was angry +to see his pages defaced, and felt more pain from the detection than +content from the amendment of his faults. They parted, but Pope +always considered him with kindness, and visited him a little time before +he died. Another of his early correspondents was Mr. Cromwell, +of whom I have learned nothing particular, but that he used to ride +a-hunting in a tie-wig. He was fond, and perhaps vain, of amusing +himself with poetry and criticism, and sometimes sent his performances +to Pope, who did not forbear such remarks as were now and then unwelcome. +Pope, in his turn, put the juvenile version of “Statius” +into his hands for correction. Their correspondence afforded the +public its first knowledge of Pope’s epistolary powers, for his +letters were given by Cromwell to one Mrs. Thomas, and she many years +afterwards sold them to Curll, who inserted them in a volume of his +“Miscellanies.”<br> +<br> +Walsh, a name yet preserved among the minor poets, was one of his first +encouragers. His regard was gained by the pastorals, and from +him Pope received the counsel from which he seems to have regulated +his studies. Walsh advised him to correctness, which, as he told +him, the English poets had hitherto neglected, and which, therefore, +was left to him as a basis of fame; and, being delighted with rural +poems, recommended to him to write a pastoral comedy, like those which +are read so eagerly in Italy, a design which Pope probably did not approve, +as he did not follow it.<br> +<br> +Pope had now declared himself a poet, and, thinking himself entitled +to poetical conversation, began at seventeen to frequent Will’s, +a coffee-house on the north side of Russell Street, in Covent Garden, +where the wits of that time used to assemble, and where Dryden had, +when he lived, been accustomed to preside. During this period +of his life he was indefatigably diligent and insatiably curious, wanting +health for violent and money for expensive pleasures, and having excited +in himself very strong desires of intellectual eminence, he spent much +of his time over his books; but he read only to store his mind with +facts and images, seizing all that his authors presented with undistinguishing +voracity, and with an appetite for knowledge too eager to be nice. +In a mind like his, however, all the faculties were at once involuntarily +improving. Judgment is forced upon us by experience. He +that reads many books must compare one opinion or one style with another; +and, when he compares, must necessarily distinguish, reject, and prefer. +But the account given by himself of his studies was, that from fourteen +to twenty he read only for amusement, from twenty to twenty-seven for +improvement and instruction; that in the first part of his time he desired +only to know, and in the second he endeavoured to judge.<br> +<br> +The Pastorals, which had been for some time handed about among poets +and critics, were at last printed (1709) in Tonson’s “Miscellany,” +in a volume which began with the Pastorals of Philips, and ended with +those of Pope. The same year was written the “Essay on Criticism,” +a work which displays such extent of comprehension, such nicety of distinction, +such acquaintance with mankind, and such knowledge both of ancient and +modern learning, as are not often attained by the maturest age and longest +experience. It was published about two years afterwards, and, +being praised by Addison in the <i>Spectator, </i>with sufficient liberality, +met with so much favour as enraged Dennis, “who,” he says, +“found himself attacked, without any manner of provocation on +his side, and attacked in his person instead of his writings, by one +who was wholly a stranger to him, at a time when all the world knew +he was persecuted by fortune; and not only saw that this was attempted +in a clandestine manner, with the utmost falsehood and calumny, but +found that all this was done by a little, affected hypocrite, who had +nothing in his mouth at the same time but truth, candour, friendship, +good-nature, humanity, and magnanimity. How the attack was clandestine +is not easily perceived, nor how his person is depreciated; but he seems +to have known something of Pope’s character, in whom may be discovered +an appetite to talk too frequently of his own virtues. The pamphlet +is such as rage might be expected to dictate. He supposes himself +to be asked two questions; whether the essay will succeed, and who or +what is the author.<br> +<br> +Its success he admits to be secured by the false opinions then prevalent; +the author he concludes to be “young and raw.”<br> +<br> +“First, because he discovers a sufficiency beyond his little ability, +and hath rashly undertaken a task infinitely above his force. +Secondly, while this little author struts and affects the dictatorian +air, he plainly shows that at the same time he is under the rod: and, +while he pretends to give laws to others, is a pedantic slave to authority +and opinion. Thirdly, he hath, like schoolboys, borrowed both +from living and dead. Fourthly, he knows not his own mind, and +frequently contradicts himself. Fifthly, he is almost perpetually +in the wrong.”<br> +<br> +All these positions he attempts to prove by quotations and remarks; +but his desire to do mischief is greater than his power. He has, +however, justly criticised some passages in these lines:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“There are whom Heaven has blessed with store of wit,<br> +Yet want as much again to manage it:<br> +For wit and judgment ever are at strife - ”<br> +<br> +<br> +It is apparent that wit has two meanings, and that what is wanted, though +called wit, is truly judgment. So far Dennis is undoubtedly right: +but not content with argument, he will have a little mirth, and triumphs +over the first couplet in terms too elegant to be forgotten. “By +the way, what rare numbers are here! Would not one swear that +this youngster had espoused some antiquated muse, who had sued out a +divorce on account of impotence, from some superannuated sinner; and, +having been p--d by her former spouse, has got the gout in her decrepit +age, which makes her hobble so damnably?” This was the man +who would reform a nation sinking into barbarity.<br> +<br> +In another place Pope himself allowed that Dennis had detected one of +those blunders which are called “bulls.” The first +edition had this line:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“What is this wit -<br> +Where wanted scorned; and envied where acquired?”<br> +<br> +<br> +“How,” says the critic, “can wit be scorned where +it is not? Is not this a figure frequently employed in Hibernian +land! The person that wants this wit may indeed be scorned, but +the scorn shows the honour which the contemner has for wit.” +Of this remark Pope made the proper use, by correcting the passage.<br> +<br> +I have preserved, I think, all that is reasonable in Dennis’s +criticism; it remains that justice be done to his delicacy. “For +his acquaintance,” says Dennis, “he names Mr. Walsh, who +had by no means the qualification which this author reckons absolutely +necessary to a critic, it being very certain that he was, like this +essayer a very indifferent poet; he loved to be well dressed; and I +remember a little young gentleman whom Mr. Walsh used to take into his +company as a double foil to his person and capacity. Inquire between +Sunning Hill and Oakingham, for a young, short, equal, gentleman, the +very bow of the God of Love, and tell me whether he be a proper author +to make personal reflections? He may extol the ancients, but he +has reason to thank the gods that he was born a modern; for had he been +born of Grecian parents, and his father consequently had by law had +the absolute disposal of him, his life had been no longer than that +of one of his poems, the life of half a day. Let the person of +a gentleman of his parts be never so contemptible, his inward man is +ten times more ridiculous; it being impossible that his outward form, +though it be that of downright monkey, should differ so much from human +shape as his unthinking, immaterial part does from human understanding.” +Thus began the hostility between Pope and Dennis, which, though it was +suspended for a short time, never was appeased. Pope seems, at +first, to have attacked him wantonly; but though he always professed +to despise him, he discovers, by mentioning him very often, that he +felt his force or his venom.<br> +<br> +Of this essay, Pope declared that he did not expect the sale to be quick, +because “not one gentleman in sixty, even of liberal education, +could understand it.” The gentleman, and the education of +that time, seem to have been of a lower character than they are of this. +He mentioned a thousand copies as a numerous impression.<br> +<br> +Dennis was not his only censurer; the zealous Papists thought the monks +treated with too much contempt, and Erasmus too studiously praised; +but to these objections he had not much regard.<br> +<br> +The “Essay,” has been translated into French by Hamilton, +author of the “Comte de Grammont,” whose version was never +printed, by Robotham, secretary to the king for Hanover, and by Resnel; +and commented by Dr. Warburton, who has discovered in it such order +and connection as was not perceived by Addison, nor, as it is said, +intended by the author.<br> +<br> +Almost every poem, consisting of precepts, is so far arbitrary and immethodical, +that many of the paragraphs may change places with no apparent inconvenience; +for of two or more positions, depending upon some remote and general +principle, there is seldom any cogent reason why one should precede +the other. But for the order in which they stand, whatever it +be, a little ingenuity may easily give a reason. “It is +possible,” says Hooker, “that, by long circumduction, from +any one truth all truth may be inferred.” Of all homogeneous +truths, at least of all truths respecting the same general end, in whatever +series they may be produced, a concatenation by intermediate ideas may +be formed, such as, when it is once shown, shall appear natural; but +if this order be reversed, another mode of connection equally spacious +may be found or made. Aristotle is praised for naming fortitude +first of the cardinal virtues, as that without which no other virtue +can steadily be practised; but he might, with equal propriety, have +placed prudence and justice before it; since without prudence fortitude +is mad; without justice, it is mischievous. As the end of method +is perspicuity, that series is sufficiently regular that avoids obscurity; +and where there is no obscurity, it will not be difficult to discover +method.<br> +<br> +In the <i>Spectator</i> was published the “Messiah,” which +he first submitted to the perusal of Steele, and corrected in compliance +with his criticisms. It is reasonable to infer from his “Letters” +that the verses on the “Unfortunate Lady” were written about +the time when his “Essay” was published. The lady’s +name and adventures I have sought with fruitless inquiry. I can +therefore tell no more than I have learned from Mr. Ruffhead, who writes +with the confidence of one who could trust his information. She +was a woman of eminent rank and large fortune, the ward of an uncle, +who, having given her a proper education, expected, like other guardians, +that she should make at least an equal match; and such he proposed to +her, but found it rejected in favour of a young gentleman of inferior +condition. Having discovered the correspondence between the two +lovers, and finding the young lady determined to abide by her own choice, +he supposed that separation might do what can rarely be done by arguments, +and sent her into a foreign country, where she was obliged to converse +only with those from whom her uncle had nothing to fear. Her lover +took care to repeat his vows; but his letters were intercepted and carried +to her guardian, who directed her to be watched with still greater vigilance, +till of this restraint she grow so impatient that she bribed a woman +servant to procure her a sword, which she directed to her heart.<br> +<br> +From this account, given with evident intention to raise the lady’s +character, it does not appear that she had any claim to praise nor much +to compassion. She seems to have been impatient, violent, and +ungovernable. Her uncle’s power could not have lasted long; +the hour of liberty and choice would have come in time. But her +desires were too hot for delay, and she liked self-murder better than +suspense. Nor is it discovered that the uncle, whoever he was, +is with much justice delivered to posterity as “a false guardian.” +He seems to have done only that for which a guardian is appointed; he +endeavoured to direct his niece till she should be able to direct herself. +Poetry has not often been worse employed than in dignifying the amorous +fiery of a raving girl.<br> +<br> +Not long after he wrote the “Rape of the Lock,” the most +airy, the most ingenious, and the most delightful off all his compositions, +occasioned by a frolic of gallantry, rather too familiar, in which Lord +Petre cut off a lock of Mrs. Arabella Fermor’s hair. This, +whether stealth or violence, was so much resented that the commerce +of the two families, before very friendly, was interrupted. Mr. +Caryl, a gentleman who, being secretary to King James’s queen, +had followed his mistress into France, and who, being the author of +<i>Sir Solomon Single, </i>a comedy, and some translations, was entitled +to the notice of a wit, solicited Pope to endeavour a reconciliation +by a ludicrous poem which might bring both the parties to a better temper. +In compliance with Caryl’s request, though his name was for a +long time marked only by the first and last letter, “C--l,” +a poem of two cantos, was written (1711), as is said, in a fortnight, +and sent to the offended lady, who liked it well enough to show it; +and, with the usual process of literary transactions, the author, dreading +a surreptitious edition, was forced to publish it.<br> +<br> +The event is said to have been such as was desired, the pacification +and diversion of all to whom it related, except Sir George Brown, who +complained with some bitterness that, in the character of Sir Plume, +he was made to talk nonsense. Whether all this be true I have +some doubt; for at Paris, a few years ago, a niece of Mrs. Fermor, who +presided in an English convent, mentioned Pope’s work with very +little gratitude, rather as an insult than an honour; and she may be +supposed to have inherited the opinion of her family. At its first +appearance at was termed by Addison “merum sal.” Pope, +however, saw that it was capable of improvement; and, having luckily +contrived to borrow his machinery from the Rosicrucians, imparted the +scheme with which his head was teeming to Addison, who told him that +his work, as it stood, was “a delicious little thing,” and +gave him no encouragement to retouch it.<br> +<br> +This has been too hastily considered as an instance of Addison’s +jealousy, for, as he could not guess the conduct of the new design, +or the possibilities of pleasure comprised in a fiction of which there +had been no examples, he might very reasonably and kindly persuade the +author to acquiesce in his own prosperity, and forbear an attempt which +he considered as an unnecessary hazard. Addison’s counsel +was happily rejected. Pope foresaw the future efflorescence of +imagery then budding in his mind, and resolved to spare no art or industry +of cultivation. The soft luxuriance of his fancy was already shooting, +and all the gay varieties of diction were ready at his hand to colour +and embellish it. His attempt was justified by its success. +The “Rape of the Lock” stands forward, in the classes of +literature, as the most exquisite example of ludicrous poetry. +Berkeley congratulated him upon the display of powers more truly poetical +than he had shown before with elegance of description and justness of +precepts he had now exhibited boundless fertility of invention. +He always considered the intermixture of the machinery with the action +as his most successful exertion of poetical art. He, indeed, could +never afterwards produce anything of such unexampled excellence. +Those performances, which strike with wonder, are combinations of skilful +genius with happy casualty; and it is not likely that any felicity, +like the discovery of a new race of preternatural agents, should happen +twice to the same man. Of this poem the author was, I think, allowed +to enjoy the praise for a long time without disturbance. Many +years afterwards Dennis published some remarks upon it with very little +force and with no effect; for the opinion of the public was already +settled, and it was no longer at the mercy of criticism.<br> +<br> +About this time he published the “Temple of Fame,” which, +as he tells Steele in their correspondence, he had written two years +before - that is, when he was only twenty-two years old, an early time +of life for so much learning and so much observation as that work exhibits. +On this poem Dennis afterwards published some remarks, of which the +most reasonable is that some of the lines represent motion as exhibited +by sculpture.<br> +<br> +Of the Epistle from “Eloisa to Abelard,” I do not know the +date. His first inclination to attempt a composition of that tender +kind arose, as Mr. Savage told me, from his perusal of Prior’s +“Nut-brown Maid.” How much he has surpassed Prior’s +work it is not necessary to mention, when perhaps it may be said, with +justice, that he has excelled every composition of the same kind. +The mixture of religious hope and resignation gives an elevation and +dignity to disappointed love, which images merely natural cannot bestow. +The gloom of a convent strikes the imagination with far greater force +than the solitude of a grove. This piece was, however, not much +his favourite in his later years, though I never heard upon what principle +he slighted it.<br> +<br> +In the next year (1713) he published “Windsor Forest,” of +which part was, as he relates, written at sixteen, about the same time +as his Pastorals, and the latter part was added afterwards. Where +the addition begins we are not told. The lines relating to the +peace confess their own date. It is dedicated to Lord Lansdowne, +who was then in high reputation and influence among the Tories; and +it is said that the conclusion of the poem gave great pain to Addison, +both as a poet and a politician. Reports like this are often spread +with boldness very disproportionate to their evidence. Why should +Addison receive any particular disturbance from the last lines of “Windsor +Forest”? If contrariety of opinion could poison a politician, +he could not live a day; and, as a poet, he must have felt Pope’s +force of genius much more from many other parts of his works. +The pain that Addison might feel it is not likely that he would confess; +and it is certain that he so well suppressed his discontent that Pope +now thought himself his favourite, for, having been consulted in the +revisal of “Cato” he introduced it by a prologue; and, when +Dennis published his remarks, undertook, not indeed to vindicate, but +to revenge his friend, by a “Narrative of the Frenzy of John Dennis.”<br> +<br> +There is reason to believe that Addison gave no encouragement to this +disingenuous hostility, for, says Pope, in a letter to him, “indeed +your opinion, that ’tis entirely to be neglected, would be my +own in my own case; but I felt more warmth here than I did when I first +saw his book against myself (though, indeed, in two minutes it made +me heartily merry).” Addison was not a man on whom such +cant of sensibility could make much impression. He left the pamphlet +to itself, having disowned it to Dennis, and perhaps did not think Pope +to have deserved much by his officiousness.<br> +<br> +This year was printed in the <i>Guardian</i> the ironical comparison +between the pastorals of Philips and Pope, a composition of artifice, +criticism, and literature, to which nothing equal will easily be found. +The superiority of Pope is so ingeniously dissembled, and the feeble +lines of Philips so skilfully preferred, that Steele, being deceived, +was unwilling to print the paper, lest Pope should be offended. +Addison immediately saw the writer’s design, and, as it seems, +had malice enough to conceal his discovery, and to permit a publication +which, by making his friend Philips ridiculous, made him for ever an +enemy to Pope.<br> +<br> +It appears that about this time Pope had a strong inclination to unite +the art of painting with that of poetry, and put himself under the tuition +of Jervas. He was near-sighted, and therefore not formed by nature +for a painter; he tried, however, how far he could advance, and sometimes +persuaded his friends to sit. A picture of Betterton, supposed +to be drawn by him, was in the possession of Lord Mansfield. If +this was taken from the life, he must have begun to paint earlier, for +Betterton was now dead. Pope’s ambition of this new art +produced some encomiastic verses to Jervas, which certainly show his +power as a poet; but I have been told that they betray his ignorance +of painting. He appears to have regarded Betterton with kindness +and esteem, and after his death published, under his name, a version +into modern English of Chaucer’s Prologues and one of his Tales, +which, as was related by Mr. Harte, were believed to have been the performance +of Pope himself by Fenton, who made him a gay offer of five pounds if +he would show them in the hand of Betterton.<br> +<br> +The next year (1713) produced a bolder attempt, by which profit was +sought as well as praise. The poems which he had hitherto written, +however they might have diffused his name, had made very little addition +to his fortune. The allowance which his father made him, though, +proportioned to what he had, it might be liberal, could not be large; +his religion hindered him from the occupation of any civil employment; +and he complained that he wanted even money to buy books. He therefore +resolved to try how far the favour of the public extended by soliciting +a subscription to a version of the “Iliad,” with large notes. +To print by subscription was, for some time, a practice peculiar to +the English. The first considerable work for which this expedient +was employed is said to have been Dryden’s “Virgil,” +and it had been tried again with great success when the <i>Tatlers </i>were +collected into volumes.<br> +<br> +There was reason to believe that Pope’s attempt would be successful. +He was in the full bloom of reputation and was personally known to almost +all whom dignity of employment or splendour of reputation had made eminent; +he conversed indifferently with both parties, and never disturbed the +public with his political opinions; and it might be naturally expected, +as each faction then boasted its literary zeal, that the great men, +who on other occasions practised all the violence of opposition, would +emulate each other in their encouragement of a poet who delighted all, +and by whom none had been offended. With these hopes, he offered +an English “Iliad” to subscribers, in six volumes in quarto, +for six guineas, a sum according to the value of money at that time +by no means inconsiderable, and greater than I believe to have been +ever asked before. His proposal, however, was very favourably +received, and the patrons of literature were busy to recommend his undertaking +and promote his interest. Lord Oxford, indeed, lamented that such +a genius should be wasted upon a work not original, but proposed no +means by which he might live without it. Addison recommended caution +and moderation, and advised him not to be content with the praise of +half the nation when he might be universally favoured.<br> +<br> +The greatness of the design, the popularity of the author, and the attention +of the literary world, naturally raised such expectations of the future +sale, that the booksellers made their offers with great eagerness; but +the highest bidder was Bernard Lintot, who became proprietor on condition +of supplying, at his own expense, all the copies which were to be delivered +to subscribers, or presented to friends, and paying two hundred pounds +for every volume.<br> +<br> +Of the quartos it was, I believe, stipulated that none should be printed +but for the author, that the subscription might not be depreciated; +but Lintot impressed the same pages upon a small folio, and paper perhaps +a little thinner, and sold exactly at half the price, for half a guinea +each volume, books so little inferior to the quartos that, by fraud +of trade, those folios being afterwards shortened by cutting away the +top and bottom, were sold as copies printed for the subscribers.<br> +<br> +Lintot printed two hundred and fifty on royal paper in folio for two +guineas a volume; of the small folio, having printed seventeen hundred +and fifty copies of the first volume, he reduced the number in the other +volumes to a thousand. It is unpleasant to relate that the bookseller, +after all his hopes and all his liberality, was, by a very unjust and +illegal action, defrauded of his profit. An edition of the English +“Iliad” was printed in Holland in duodecimo, and imported +clandestinely for the gratification of those who were impatient to read +what they could not yet afford to buy. This fraud could only be +counteracted by an edition equally cheap and more commodious; and Lintot +was compelled to contract his folio at once into a duodecimo, and lose +the advantage of an intermediate gradation. The notes which in +the Dutch copies were placed at the end of each book as they had been +in the large volumes, were now subjoined to the text in the same page, +and are therefore more easily consulted. Of this edition two thousand +five hundred were first printed, and five thousand a few weeks afterwards; +but indeed great numbers were necessary to produce considerable profit.<br> +<br> +Pope, having now emitted his proposals, and engaged not only his own +reputation but in some degree that of his friends who patronised his +subscription, began to be frightened at his own undertaking, and finding +himself at first embarrassed with difficulties which retarded and oppressed +him, he was for a time timorous and uneasy, had his nights disturbed +by dreams of long journeys through unknown ways, and wished, as he said, +“that somebody would hang him.” This misery, however, +was not of long continuance; he grew by degrees more acquainted with +Homer’s images and expressions, and practice increased his facility +of versification. In a short time he represents himself as despatching +regularly fifty verses a day, which would show him by an easy computation, +the termination of his labour. His own diffidence was not his +only vexation. He that asks a subscription soon finds that he +has enemies. All who do not encourage him defame him. He +that wants money would rather be thought angry than poor; and he that +wishes to save his money conceals his avarice by his malice. Addison +had hinted his suspicion that Pope was too much a Tory; and some of +the Tories suspected his principles because he had contributed to the +<i>Guardian</i>, which was carried on by Steele.<br> +<br> +To those who censured his politics were added enemies more dangerous, +who called in question his knowledge of Greek, and his qualifications +for a translator of “Homer.” To these he made no public +opposition, but in one of his letters escapes from them as well as he +can. At an age like his, for he was not more than twenty-five, +with an irregular education and a course of life of which much seems +to have passed in conversation, it is not very likely that he overflowed +with Greek. But when he felt himself deficient he sought assistance, +and what man of learning would refuse to help him? Minute inquiries +into the force of words are less necessary in translating Homer than +other poets, because his positions are general, and his representations +natural, with very little dependence on local or temporary customs, +on those changeable scenes of artificial life, which, by mingling original +with accidental notions and crowding the mind with images which time +effaces, produces ambiguity in dictation and obscurity in books. +To this open display of unadulterated nature it must be ascribed that +Homer has fewer passages of doubtful meaning than any other poet either +in the learned or in modern languages. I have read of a man who, +being by his ignorance of Greek compelled to gratify his curiosity with +the Latin printed on the opposite page, declared that from the rude +simplicity of the lines literally rendered he formed nobler ideas of +the Homeric majesty than from the laboured elegance of polished versions. +Those literal translations were always at hand, and from them he could +easily obtain his author’s sense with sufficient certainty and +among the readers of Homer the number is very small of those who find +much in the Greek more than in the Latin, except the music of the numbers.<br> +<br> +If more help was wanting he had the poetical translation of Eobanus +Hessus, an unwearied writer of Latin verses; he had the French Homers +of La Valterie and Dacier, and the English of Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby. +With Chapman, whose work, though now totally neglected, seems to have +been popular almost to the end of the last century, he had very frequent +consultations, and perhaps never translated any passage till he had +read his version, which he indeed has been sometimes suspected of using +instead of the original. Notes were likewise to be provided, for +the six volumes would have been very little more than six pamphlets +without them. What the mere perusal of the text could suggest +Pope wanted no assistance to collect or methodise; but more was necessary. +Many pages were to be filled, and learning must supply materials to +wit and judgment. Something might be gathered from Dacier, but +no man loves to be indebted to his contemporaries, and Dacier was accessible +to common readers. Eustathius was therefore necessarily consulted. +To read Eustathius, of whose work there was then no Latin version, I +suspect Pope if he had been willing not to have been able. Some +other was therefore to be found who had leisure as well as abilities, +and he was doubtless most readily employed who would do much work for +little money.<br> +<br> +The history of the notes has never been traced. Broome, an his +preface to his poems, declares himself the commentator “in part +upon the ‘Iliad,’” and it appears from Fenton’s +letter, preserved in the Museum, that Broome was at first engaged in +consulting Eustathius; but that after a time, whatever was the reason, +he desisted. Another man of Cambridge was then employed, who soon +grew weary of the work, and a third, that was recommended by Thirlby, +is now discovered to have been Jortin, a man since well known to the +learned world, who complained that Pope, having accepted and approved +his performance, never testified any curiosity to see him, and who professed +to have forgotten the terms on which he worked. The terms which +Fenton uses are very mercantile: “I think at first sight that +his performance is very commendable, and have sent word for him to finish +the seventeenth book, and to send it with his demands for his trouble. +I have here enclosed the specimen; if the rest come before the return, +I will keep them till I receive your order.”<br> +<br> +Broome then offered his service a second time, which was probably accepted, +as they had afterwards a closer correspondence. Parnell contributed +the “Life of Homer,” which Pope found so harsh, that he +took great pains in correcting it; and by his own diligence, with such +help as kindness or money could procure him, in somewhat more than five +years he completed his version of the “Iliad,” with the +notes. He began it in 1712, his twenty-fifth year, and concluded +it in 1718, his thirtieth year. When we find him translating fifty +lines a day, it is natural to suppose that he would have brought his +work to a more speedy conclusion. The “Iliad,” containing +less than sixteen thousand verses, might have been despatched in less +than three hundred and twenty days by fifty verses in a day. The +notes, compiled with the assistance of his mercenaries, could not be +supposed to require more time than the text. According to this +calculation, the progress of Pope may seem to have been slow; but the +distance is commonly very great between actual performances and speculative +possibility. It is natural to suppose, that as much as has been +done to-day may be done to-morrow; but on the morrow some difficulty +emerges, or some external impediment obstructs.<br> +<br> +Indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure, all take their turns +of retardation; and every long work is lengthened by a thousand causes +that can, and ten thousand that cannot, be recounted. Perhaps +no extensive and multifarious performance was ever effected within the +term originally fixed in the undertaker’s mind. He that +runs against time has an antagonist not subject to casualties.<br> +<br> +The encouragement given to this translation, though report seems to +have overrated it, was such as the world has not often seen. The +subscribers were five hundred and seventy-five. The copies, for +which subscriptions were given, were six hundred and fifty-four; and +only six hundred and sixty were printed. For these copies Pope +had nothing to pay. He therefore received, including the two hundred +pounds a volume, five thousand three hundred and twenty pounds, four +shillings, without deduction, as the books were supplied by Lintot.<br> +<br> +By the success of his subscription Pope was relieved from those pecuniary +distresses with which, notwithstanding his popularity, he had hitherto +struggled. Lord Oxford had often lamented his disqualification +for public employment, but never proposed a pension. While the +translation of “Homer” was in its progress, Mr. Craggs, +then Secretary of State, offered to procure him a pension, which, at +least during his ministry, might be enjoyed with secrecy. This +was not accepted by Pope, who told him, however, that, if he should +be pressed with want of money, he would send to him for occasional supplies. +Craggs was not long in power, and was never solicited for money by Pope, +who disdained to beg what he did not want.<br> +<br> +With the product of this subscription, which he had too much discretion +to squander, he secured his future life from want, by considerable annuities. +The estate of the Duke of Buckingham was found to have been charged +with five hundred pounds a year, payable to Pope, which doubtless his +translation enabled him to purchase.<br> +<br> +It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity, that I deduce thus minutely +the history of the English “Iliad.” It is certainly +the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen, and its +publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events +in the annals of learning. To those who have skill to estimate +the excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very desirable +to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it advanced to +correctness. Of such an intellectual process the knowledge has +very rarely been attainable; but happily there remains the original +copy of the “Iliad,” which, being obtained by Bolingbroke +as a curiosity, descended from him to Mallet, and is now, by the solicitation +of the late Dr. Maty, reposited in the Museum. Between this manuscript, +which is written upon accidental fragments of paper, and the printed +edition, there must have been an intermediate copy, that was perhaps +destroyed as it returned from the press.<br> +<br> +From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall exhibit +first the printed lines; then, in a small print, those of the manuscripts, +with all their variations. Those words in the small print, which +are given in italics, are cancelled in the copy, and the words placed +under them adopted in their stead:<br> +<br> +The beginning of the first book stands thus:-<br> +<br> +<br> + The wrath of Peleus’ son, the direful spring<br> +Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing,<br> +That wrath which hurled to Pluto’s gloomy reign<br> +The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain.<br> +<br> + The stern Pelides’ <i>rage, </i>O Goddess, sing,<br> + wrath<br> + Of all the woes <i>of Greece</i> too fatal spring,<br> + Grecian<br> + That screwed with warriors dead the Phrygian plain,<br> + heroes<br> + And <i>peopled the dark with heroes</i> slain:<br> + filled the shady hell with chiefs +untimely<br> +<br> +Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,<br> +Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore,<br> +Since great Achilles and Atrides strove;<br> +Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.<br> +<br> + Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore,<br> + Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore,<br> + Since first <i>Atrides</i> and <i>Achilles</i> strove;<br> + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of +Jove.<br> +<br> +Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour<br> +Sprung the fierce strife from what offended Power?<br> +Latona’s son a dire contagion spread,<br> +And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead;<br> +<br> +The King of Men his reverend priest defied,<br> +And for the King’s offence the people died.<br> +<br> + Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power<br> + Enflamed their <i>rage</i> in that <i>ill-omened</i> +hour;<br> + anger fatal, hapless<br> + Phœbus himself the <i>dire</i> debate procured,<br> + fierce<br> + To avenge the wrongs his injured priest endured;<br> + For this the god a dire infection spread,<br> + And heaped the camp with millions of the dead:<br> + The King of men the sacred sire defied,<br> + And for the King’s offence the people died.<br> +<br> +For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain<br> +His captive daughter from the Victor’s chain;<br> +Suppliant the venerable father stands,<br> +Apollo’s awful ensigns grace his hands,<br> +By these he begs, and, lowly bending down,<br> +Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown.<br> +<br> + For Chryses sought by <i>presents to regain<br> + </i>costly gifts to gain<br> + His captive daughter from the Victor’s chain;<br> + Suppliant the venerable father stands,<br> + Apollo’s awful ensigns graced his hands.<br> + By these he begs, and, lowly bending down<br> + <i>The golden sceptre</i> and the laurel crown,<br> + Presents the sceptre<br> + <i>For these as ensigns of his god he bare</i>,<br> + <i>The god who sends his golden shaft afar;<br> + </i>Then low on earth the venerable man,<br> + Suppliant before the brother kings began.<br> +<br> +He sued to all, but chief implored for grace,<br> +The brother kings of Atreus’ royal race;<br> +Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crowned,<br> +And Troy’s proud walls lie level with the ground;<br> +May Jove restore you, when your toils are o’er,<br> +Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.<br> +<br> + To all he sued, but chief implored for grace<br> + The brother kings of Atreus’ royal race.<br> + Ye <i>sons of Atreus</i>, may your vows be crowned,<br> + kings and warriors<br> + <i>Your labours, by the gods be all your labours crowned</i>;<br> + <i>So may the gods your arms with conquest bless</i>,<br> + <i>And</i> Troy’s proud walls <i>lie</i> level +with the ground;<br> + Till laid<br> + <i>And crown your labours with desired success;<br> + </i>May Jove restore you when your toils are o’er<br> + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.<br> +<br> +But, oh! relieve a wretched parent’s pain,<br> +And give Chryses to these arms again;<br> +If mercy fail, yet let my present move,<br> +And dread avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.<br> +<br> + But, oh! relieve a hapless parent’s pain,<br> + And give my daughter to these arms again;<br> + <i>Receive my gifts,</i> if mercy fails, yet let my +present move,<br> + And fear <i>the god who deals his darts around</i>,<br> + avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.<br> +<br> +The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare,<br> +The priest to reverence, and release the fair:<br> +Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,<br> +Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied.<br> +<br> + He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,<br> + <i>The father said, the generous Greeks relent</i>,<br> + To accept the ransom, and restore the fair:<br> + <i>Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent;<br> + </i>Not so <i>the tyrant</i>; he, with kingly pride,<br> + Atrides,<br> + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied<br> + [Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was +yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations.<br> +<br> +The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed +page, and is therefore set down without any parallel. The few +slight differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.<br> +<br> +<br> + Now pleasing sleep had sealed each mortal eye:<br> +Stretched in the tents the Grecian leaders lie;<br> +The Immortals slumbered on their thrones above,<br> +All but the ever-wakeful eye of Jove.<br> +To honour Thetis’ son he bends his care,<br> +And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.<br> +Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,<br> +And thus <i>commands</i> the vision of the night:<br> + directs<br> +Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,<br> +To Agamemnon’s royal tent repair;<br> +Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train,<br> +March all his legions to the dusty plain.<br> +<i>Now tell the King</i> ’tis given him to destroy<br> +Declare even now<br> +The lofty <i>walls</i> of wide-extended Troy;<br> + towers<br> +For now no more the gods with fate contend;<br> +At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.<br> +Destruction <i>hovers</i> o’er yon devoted wall,<br> + hangs<br> +And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.<br> +<br> +<br> +Invocation to the catalogue of ships.<br> +<br> +<br> +Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,<br> +All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!<br> +Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasured height,<br> +And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight<br> +(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,<br> +But guess by rumour, and but boast we know),<br> +Oh! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,<br> +Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came!<br> +To count them all demands a thousand tongues,<br> +A throat of brass and adamantine lungs.<br> +<br> + Now virgin goddesses, immortal nine!<br> + That round Olympus’ heavenly summit shine,<br> + Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound,<br> + And all things know, and all things can resound!<br> + Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,<br> + What nations followed, and what chiefs command;<br> + (For doubtful fame distracts mankind below,<br> + And nothing can we tell, and nothing know)<br> + Without your aid, to count the unnumbered train,<br> +A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.<br> +<br> +<br> +Book V. <i>v.</i> 1.<br> +<br> +<br> + But Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires,<br> +Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires:<br> +Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,<br> +And crown her hero with distinguished praise,<br> +High on his helm celestial lightnings play,<br> +His beamy shield emits a living ray;<br> +The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,<br> +Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.<br> + But Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires,<br> +Fills with her <i>rage</i>, and warms with all her fires;<br> + force<br> +O’er all the Greeks decrees hisfame to raise,<br> +Above the Greeks <i>her warrior’s</i> fame to raise,<br> + his deathless<br> +And crown her hero with <i>immortal</i> praise:<br> + distinguished<br> +<i>Bright from</i> his beamy<i> crest the</i> lightnings play,<br> + High on helm<br> +From his broad buckler flashed the living ray;<br> +High on his helm celestial lightnings play,<br> +His beamy shield emits a living ray;<br> +The goddess with her breath the flame supplies,<br> +Bright as the star whose fires in autumn rise;<br> +Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies,<br> +Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies:<br> +The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,<br> +Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.<br> +<br> +When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,<br> +And bathed in ocean shoots a keener light,<br> +Such glories Pallas on the chief bestowed,<br> +Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flowed;<br> +Onward she drives him, furious to engage,<br> +Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage.<br> +<br> + When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,<br> + And gilds old ocean with a blaze of light,<br> + Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies,<br> + Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and skies:<br> + Such glories Pallas on her chief bestowed,<br> + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed,<br> + Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed,<br> + Onward she drives him <i>headlong</i> to engage,<br> + furious<br> + Where the <i>war bleeds</i>, and where the <i>fiercest</i> +rage.<br> + fight burns, thickest<br> +<br> +The sons of Dares first the combat sought,<br> +A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;<br> +In Vulcan’s fane the father’s days were led,<br> +The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;<br> +<br> + There lived a Trojan - Dares was his name,<br> + The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame;<br> + The sons of Dares first the combat sought,<br> + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.<br> +<br> +<br> +<i>Conclusion of </i>Book VIII. <i>v.</i> 687.<br> +<br> +<br> +As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,<br> +O’er heaven’s clear azure spreads her sacred light,<br> +When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,<br> +And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene;<br> +Around her throne the vivid planets roll,<br> +And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole:<br> +O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,<br> +And tip with silver every mountain’s head:<br> +Then shine the vales - the rocks in prospect rise,<br> +A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;<br> +The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,<br> +Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.<br> +So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,<br> +And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays;<br> +The long reflections of the distant fires<br> +Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires.<br> +A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild,<br> +And shoot a shady lustre o’er the field;<br> +Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend,<br> +Whose umbered arms by fits thick flashes send;<br> +Loud neigh the coursers o’er their heaps of corn,<br> +And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.<br> +<br> + As when in<i> </i>stillness of the silent night,<br> + As when the moon in all her lustre bright,<br> + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,<br> + O’er Heaven’s <i>clear</i> azure <i>sheds</i> +her <i>silver</i> light;<br> + pure spreads sacred<br> + As still in air the trembling lustre stood,<br> + And o’er its golden border shoots a flood;<br> + When <i>no loose gale</i> disturbs the deep serene,<br> + not a breath<br> + And <i>no dim</i> cloud o’ercasts the solemn +scene;<br> + not a<br> + Around her silver throne the planets glow,<br> + And stars unnumbered <i>trembling beams bestow</i>;<br> + Around her throne the vivid planets roll,<br> + And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole:<br> + Clear gleams of light <i>o’er the dark trees +are seen</i>,<br> + o’er the dark trees a yellow +sheds<br> + O’er the dark trees a yellower <i>green</i> +they shed,<br> + gleam<br> + verdure<br> + And tip with silver <i>all the mountain heads<br> + </i>forest<br> + And tip with silver every mountain’s head.<br> + The valleys open, and the forests rise,<br> + The vales appear, the rocks in prospect rise,<br> + Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,<br> + All nature stands revealed before our eyes;<br> + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies.<br> + The conscious shepherd, joyful at the sight,<br> + Eyes the blue vault, and numbers every light.<br> + The conscious swains <i>rejoicing at the sight</i>,<br> + shepherds gazing with delight<br> + Eye the blue vault, and bless the <i>vivid</i> light.<br> + glorious<br> + useful<br> + So many flames before <i>the navy</i> blaze,<br> + proud Ilion<br> + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays,<br> + Wide o’er the fields to Troy extend the gleams,<br> + And tip the distant spires with fainter beams;<br> + The long reflections of the distant fires<br> + Gild the high walls, and tremble on the spires;<br> + Gleam on the walls, and <i>tremble on the</i> spires;<br> + A thousand fires at distant stations bright,<br> + Gild the dark prospect, and dispel the night.<br> +<br> +<br> +Of these specimens every man who has cultivated poetry, or who delights +to trace the mind from the rudeness of its first conceptions to the +elegance of its last, will naturally desire a great number; but most +other readers are already tired, and I am not writing only to poets +and philosophers.<br> +<br> +The “Iliad” was published volume by volume, as the translation +proceeded. The four first books appeared in 1713. The expectation +of this work was undoubtedly high, and every man who had connected his +name with criticism or poetry was desirous of such intelligence as might +enable him to talk upon the popular topic. Halifax, who, by having +been first a poet, and then a patron of poetry, had acquired the right +of being a judge, was willing to hear some books while they were yet +unpublished. Of this rehearsal Pope afterwards gave the following +account:-<br> +<br> +“The famous Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to taste than +really possessed of it. When I had finished the two or three first +books of my translation of the ‘Iliad,’ that lord desired +to have the pleasure of hearing them read at his house. Addison, +Congreve, and Garth were there at the reading. In four or five +places Lord Halifax stopped me very civilly, and with a speech each +time of much the same kind, ‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope, but +there is something in that passage that does not please me. Be +so good as to mark the place, and consider it a little at your leisure. +I am sure you can give it a little turn.’ I returned from +Lord Halifax’s with Dr. Garth in his chariot, and as we were going +along was saying to the Doctor that my lord had laid me under a great +deal of difficulty by such loose and general observations; that I had +been thinking over the passages almost ever since, and could not guess +at what it was that offended his lordship in either of them. Garth +laughed heartily at my embarrassment: said I had not been long enough +acquainted with Lord Halifax to know his way yet; that I need not puzzle +myself about looking those places over and over when I got home. +‘All you need do,’ says he, ‘is to leave them just +as they are, call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him +for his kind observations on those passages, and then read them to him +as altered. I have known him much longer than you have, and will +be answerable for the event.’ I followed his advice, waited +on Lord Halifax some time after; said I hoped he would find his objections +to those passages removed; read them to him exactly as they were at +first; and his lordship was extremely pleased with them, and cried out, +‘Ay, now they are perfectly right; nothing can be better.’”<br> +<br> +It is seldom that the great or the wise suspect that they are despised +or cheated. Halifax, thinking this a lucky opportunity of securing +immortality, made some advances of favour and some overtures of advantage +to Pope, which he seems to have received with sullen coldness. +All our knowledge of this transaction is derived from a single letter +(December 1, 1714), in which Pope says, “I am obliged to you, +both for the favours you have done me and those you intend me. +I distrust neither your will nor your memory when it is to do good; +and if I ever become troublesome or solicitous, it must not be out of +expectation, but out of gratitude. Your lordship may cause me +to live agreeably in the town, or contentedly in the country, which +is really all the difference I set between an easy fortune and a small +one. It is indeed a high strain of generosity in you to think +of making me easy all my life, only because I have been so happy as +to divert you some few hours; but, if I may have leave to add it is +because you think me no enemy to my native country, there will appear +a better reason; for I must of consequence be very much (as I sincerely +am) yours, &c.”<br> +<br> +These voluntary offers, and this faint acceptance, ended without effect. +The patron was not accustomed to such frigid gratitude; and the poet +fed his own pride with the dignity of independence. They probably +were suspicious of each other. Pope would not dedicate till he +saw at what rate his praise was valued; he would be “troublesome +out of gratitude, not expectation.” Halifax thought himself +entitled to confidence, and would give nothing unless he knew what he +should receive. Their commerce had its beginning in hope of praise +on one side and of money on the other, and ended because Pope was less +eager of money than Halifax of praise. It is not likely that Halifax +had any personal benevolence to Pope; it is evident that Pope looked +on Halifax with scorn and hatred.<br> +<br> +The reputation of this great work failed of gaining him a patron but +it deprived him of a friend. Addison and he were now at the head +of poetry and criticism, and both in such a state of elevation that, +like the two rivals in the Roman State, one could no longer bear an +equal, nor the other a superior. Of the gradual abatement of kindness +between friends, the beginning is often scarcely discernible to themselves, +and the process is continued by petty provocations, and incivilities +sometimes peevishly returned, and sometimes contemptuously neglected, +which would escape all attention but that of pride, and drop from any +memory but that of resentment. That the quarrel of these two wits +should be minutely deduced is not to be expected from a writer to whom, +as Homer says, “nothing but rumour has reached, and who has no +personal knowledge.”<br> +<br> +Pope doubtless approached Addison, when the reputation of their wit +first brought them together, with the respect due to a man whose abilities +were acknowledged, and who, having attained that eminence to which he +was himself aspiring, had in his hands the distribution of literary +fame. He paid court with sufficient diligence by his prologue +to “Cato,” by his abuse of Dennis, and with praise yet more +direct, by his poem on the “Dialogues on Medals,” of which +the immediate publication was then intended. In all this there +was no hypocrisy for he confessed that he found in Addison something +more pleasing than in any other man.<br> +<br> +It may be supposed that, as Pope saw himself favoured by the world, +and more frequently compared his own powers with those of others, his +confidence increased, and his submission lessened; and that Addison +felt no delight from the advances of a young wit, who might soon contend +with him for the highest place. Every great man, of whatever kind +be his greatness, has among his friends those who officiously or insidiously +quicken his attention to offences, heighten his disgust, and stimulate +his resentment. Of such adherents Addison doubtless had many; +and Pope was now too high to be without them. From the emission +and reception of the proposals for the “Iliad,” the kindness +of Addison seems to have abated. Jervas the painter once pleased +himself (August 20,1714) with imagining that he had re-established their +friendship, and wrote to Pope that Addison once suspected him of too +close a confederacy with Swift, but was now satisfied with his conduct. +To this Pope answered, a week after, that his engagements to Swift were +such as his services in regard to the subscription demanded, and that +the Tories never put him under the necessity of asking leave to be grateful. +“But,” says he, “as Mr. Addison must be the judge +in what regards himself, and seems to have no very just one in regard +to me, so I must own to you I expect nothing but civility from him.” +In the same letter he mentions Philips, as having been busy to kindle +animosity between them; but in a letter to Addison he expresses some +consciousness of behaviour, inattentively deficient in respect.<br> +<br> +Of Swift’s industry in promoting the subscription there remains +the testimony of Kennet, no friend to either him or Pope.<br> +<br> +“November 2, 1713, Dr. Swift came into the coffee-house, and had +a bow from everybody but me, who, I confess, could not but despise him. +When I came to the antechamber to wait, before prayers, Dr. Swift was +the principal man of talk and business, and acted as master of requests. +Then he instructed a young nobleman that the <i>best poet in England</i> +was Mr. Pope (a papist), who had begun a translation of ‘Homer’ +into English verse, for which <i>he must have them all subscribe</i>: +for, says he, the author <i>shall not</i> begin to print till <i>I have</i> +a thousand guineas for him.”<br> +<br> +About this time it is likely that Steele, who was, with all his political +fury, good-natured and officious, procured an interview between these +angry rivals, which ended in aggravated malevolence. On this occasion, +if the reports be true, Pope made his complaint with frankness and spirit, +as a man undeservedly neglected or opposed; and Addison affected a contemptuous +unconcern, and in a calm, even voice reproached Pope with his vanity, +and, telling him of the improvements which his early works had received +from his own remarks and those of Steele, said that he, being now engaged +in public business, had no longer any care for his poetical reputation, +nor had any other desire with regard to Pope than that he should not, +by too much arrogance, alienate the public.<br> +<br> +To this Pope is said to have replied with great keenness and severity, +upbraiding Addison with perpetual dependence, and with the abuse of +those qualifications which he had obtained at the public cost, and charging +him with mean endeavours to obstruct the progress of rising merit. +The contest rose so high that they parted at last without any interchange +of civility.<br> +<br> +The first volume of “Homer” was (1715) in time published; +and a rival version of the first “Iliad,” for rivals the +time of their appearance inevitably made them, was immediately printed, +with the name of Tickell. It was soon perceived that, among the +followers of Addison, Tickell had the preference, and the critics and +poets divided into factions. “I,” says Pope, “have +the town, that is, the mob, on my side; but it is not uncommon for the +smaller party to supply by industry what it wants in numbers. +I appeal to the people as my rightful judges, and, while they are not +inclined to condemn me, shall not fear the high-flyers at Button’s.” +This opposition he immediately imputed to Addison, and complained of +it in terms sufficiently resentful to Craggs, their common friend.<br> +<br> +When Addison’s opinion was asked, he declared the versions to +be both good, but Tickell’s the best that had ever been written; +and sometimes said that they were both good, but that Tickell had more +of “Homer.”<br> +<br> +Pope was now sufficiently irritated; his reputation and his interest +were at hazard. He once intended to print together the four versions +of Dryden, Maynwaring, Pope, and Tickell, that they might be readily +compared and fairly estimated. This design seems to have been +defeated by the refusal off Tonson, who was the proprietor of the other +three versions.<br> +<br> +Pope intended, at another time, a rigorous criticism of Tickell’s +translation, and had marked a copy, which I have seen, in all places +that appeared defective. But while he was thus meditating defence +or revenge, his adversary sunk before him without a blow; the voice +of the public was not long divided, and the preference universally given +to Pope’s performance. He was convinced, by adding one circumstance +to another, that the other translation was the work of Addison himself; +but, if he knew it in Addison’s lifetime, it does not appear that +he told it. He left his illustrious antagonist to lie punished +by what has been considered as the most painful of all reflections - +the remembrance of a crime perpetrated in vain. The other circumstances +of their quarrel were thus related by Pope:-<br> +<br> +“Philips seemed to have been encouraged to abuse me in coffee-houses +and conversations, and Gildon wrote a thing about Wycherley, in which +he had abused both me and my relations very grossly. Lord Warwick +himself told me one day that it was in vain for me to endeavour to be +well with Mr. Addison; that his jealous temper would never admit of +a settled friendship between us; and, to convince me of what he had +said, assured me that Addison had encouraged Gildon to publish those +scandals, and had given him ten guineas after they were published. +The next day, while I was heated with what I had heard, I wrote a letter +to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted with this +behaviour of his; that if I was to speak severely of him in return for +it, it should not be in such a dirty way; that I should rather tell +him himself fairly of his faults, and allow his good qualities; and +that it should be something in the following manner. I then adjoined +the first sketch of what has since been called my satire on Addison. +Mr Addison used me very civilly ever after.”<br> +<br> +The verses on Addison, when they were sent to Atterbury, were considered +by him as the most excellent of Pope’s performances; and the writer +was advised, since he knew where his strength lay, not to suffer it +to remain unemployed. This year (1715), being by the subscription +enabled to live more by choice, having persuaded his father to sell +their estate at Binfield, he purchased, I think only for his life, that +house at Twickenham to which his residence afterwards procured so much +celebration, and removed thither with his father and mother. Here +he planted the vines and the quincunx which his verses mention; and +being under the necessity of making a subterraneous passage to a garden +on the other side of the road, he adorned it with fossil bodies, and +dignified it with the title of a grotto; a place of silence and retreat, +from which he endeavoured to persuade his friends and himself that cares +and passions could be excluded.<br> +<br> +A grotto is not often the wish or pleasure of all Englishmen, who has +more frequent need to solicit than exclude the sun; but Pope’s +excavation was requisite as an entrance to his garden; and, as some +men try to be proud of their defects, he extracted an ornament from +an inconvenience, and vanity produced a grotto where necessity enforced +a passage. It may be frequently remarked of the studious and speculative, +that they are proud of trifles, and that their amusements seem frivolous +and childish. Whether it be that men, conscious of great reputation, +think themselves above the reach of censure, and safe in the admission +of negligent indulgences, or that mankind expect from elevated genius +a uniformity of greatness, and watch its degradation with malicious +wonder, like him who, having followed with his eye an eagle into the +clouds, should lament that she ever descended to a perch.<br> +<br> +While the volumes of his “Homer” were annually published, +he collected his former works (1717) into one quarto volume, to which +he prefixed a preface, written with great sprightliness and elegance, +which was afterwards reprinted, with some passages subjoined that he +at first omitted. Other marginal additions of the same kind he +made in the later editions of his poems. Waller remarks, that +poets lose half their praise, because the reader knows not what they +have blotted. Pope’s voracity of fame taught him the art +of obtaining the accumulated honour both of what he had published, and +of what he had suppressed. In this year his father died suddenly, +in his seventy-fifth year, having passed twenty-nine years in privacy. +He is not known but by the character which his son has given him. +If the money with which he retired was all gotten by himself, he had +traded very successfully in times when sudden riches were rarely attainable.<br> +<br> +The publication of the “Iliad” was at last completed in +1720. The splendour and success of this work raised Pope many +enemies that endeavoured to depreciate his abilities. Burnet, +who was afterwards a judge of no mean reputation, censured him in a +piece called “Homerides” before it was published. +Ducket likewise endeavoured to make him ridiculous. Dennis was +the perpetual persecutor of all his studies. But whoever his critics +were, their writings are lost, and the names, which are preserved are +preserved in the “Dunciad.”<br> +<br> +In this disastrous year (1720) of national infatuation, when more riches +than Peru can boast were expected from the South Sea, when the contagion +of avarice tainted every mind, and even poets panted after wealth, Pope +was seized with the universal passion, and ventured some of his money. +The stock rose in its price, and for a while he thought himself the +lord of thousands. But this dream of happiness did not last long, +and he seems to have waked soon enough to get clear with the loss of +what he once thought himself to have won, and perhaps not wholly of +that.<br> +<br> +Next year he published some select poems of his friend Dr. Parnell, +with a very elegant dedication to the Earl of Oxford, who, after all +his struggles and dangers, then lived in retirement, still under the +frown of a victorious faction, who could take no pleasure in hearing +his praise. He gave the same year (1721) an edition of Shakespeare. +His name was now of so much authority that Tonson thought himself entitled, +by annexing it, to demand a subscription of six guineas for Shakespeare’s +plays in six quarto volumes. Nor did his expectation much deceive +him, for, of seven hundred and fifty which he printed, he dispersed +a great number at the price proposed. The reputation of that edition +indeed, sunk, afterwards so low, that one hundred and forty copies were +sold at sixteen shillings each. On this undertaking, to which +Pope was induced by a reward of two hundred and seventeen pounds twelve +shillings, he seems never to have reflected afterwards without vexation; +for Theobald a man of heavy diligence, with very slender powers, first, +in a book called “Shakespeare Restored,” and then in a formal +edition, detected his deficiencies with all the insolence of victory; +and as he was now high enough to be feared and hated, Theobald had from +others all the help that could be supplied, by the desire of humbling +a haughty character. From this time Pope became an enemy to editors, +collators, commentators, and verbal critics, and hoped to persuade the +world that he miscarried in this undertaking only by having a mind too +great for such minute employment.<br> +<br> +Pope in his edition undoubtedly did many things wrong, and left many +things undone; but let him not be defrauded of his due praise. +He was the first that knew, at least the first that told, by what helps +the text might be improved. If he inspected the early editions +negligently, he taught others to be more accurate. In his preface +he expanded with great skill and elegance the character which had been +given of Shakespeare by Dryden; and he drew the public attention upon +his works, which, though often mentioned, had been little read. +Soon after the appearance of the “Iliad,” resolving not +to let the general kindness cool, he published proposals for a translation +of the “Odyssey,” in five volumes, for five guineas. +He was willing, however, now to have associates in his labour, being +either weary with toiling upon another’s thoughts, or having heard, +as Ruffhead relates, that Fenton and Broome had already begun the work, +and liking better to have them confederates than rivals. In the +patent, instead of saying that he had “translated” the “Odyssey,” +as he had said of the “Iliad,” he says that he had “undertaken” +a translation: and in the proposals, the subscription is said to be +not solely for his own use, but for that of “two of his friends +who have assisted him in his work.”<br> +<br> +In 1723, while he was engaged in this new version, he appeared before +the Lords at the memorable trial of Bishop Atterbury, with whom he had +lived in great familiarity, and frequent correspondence. Atterbury +had honestly recommended to him the study of the Popish controversy, +in hope of his conversion; to which Pope answered in a manner that cannot +much recommend his principles or his judgment. In questions and +projects of learning they agree better. He was called at the trial +to give an account of Atterbury’s domestic life and private employment, +that it might appear how little time he had left for plots. Pope +had but few words to utter, and in those few he made several blunders.<br> +<br> +His letters to Atterbury express the utmost esteem, tenderness, and +gratitude. “Perhaps,” says he, “it is not only +in this world that I may have cause to remember the Bishop of Rochester.” +At their last interview in the Tower, Atterbury presented him with a +Bible.<br> +<br> +Of the “Odyssey” Pope translated only twelve books. +The rest were the work of Broome and Fenton: the notes were written +wholly by Broome, who was not over liberally rewarded. The public +was carefully kept ignorant of the several shares; and an account was +subjoined at the conclusion which is now known not to be true. +The first copy of Pope’s books, with those of Fenton, are to be +seen in the Museum. The parts of Pope are less interlined than +the “Iliad,” and the latter books of the “Iliad” +less than the former. He grew dexterous by practice, and every +sheet enabled him to write the next with more facility. The books +of Fenton have very few alterations by the hand of Pope. Those +of Broome have not been found, but Pope complained, as it is reported, +that he had much trouble in correcting them. His contract with +Lintot was the same as for the “Iliad,” except that only +one hundred pounds were to be paid him for each volume. The number +of subscribers were five hundred and seventy-four, and of copies eight +hundred and nineteen, so that his profit, when he had paid his assistants, +was still very considerable. The work was finished in 1723; and +from that time he resolved to make no more translations. The sale +did not answer Lintot’s expectation, and he then pretended to +discover something of a fraud in Pope, and commenced or threatened a +suit in Chancery.<br> +<br> +On the English “Odyssey” a criticism was published by Spence, +at that time Prelector of Poetry at Oxford, a man whose learning was +not very great, and whose mind was not very powerful. His criticism, +however, was commonly just; what he thought he thought rightly, and +his remarks were recommended by his coolness and candour. In him +Pope had the first experience of a critic without malevolence, who thought +it as much his duty to display beauties as expose faults, who censured +with respect, and praised with alacrity. With this criticism Pope +was so little offended, that he sought the acquaintance of the writer, +who lived with him from that time in great familiarity, attended him +in his last hours, and compiled memorials of his conversation. +The regard of Pope recommended him to the great and powerful, and he +obtained very valuable preferments in the Church. Not long after +Pope was returning home from a visit in a friend’s coach, which, +in passing a bridge, was overturned into the water; the window’s +were closed, and, being unable to force them open, he was in danger +of immediate death, when the postillion snatched him out by breaking +the glass, of which the fragments cut two of his fingers in such a manner +that he lost their use.<br> +<br> +Voltaire, who was then in England, sent him a letter of consolation. +He had been entertained by Pope at his table, where he talked with so +much grossness that Mrs. Pope was driven from the room. Pope discovered, +by a trick, that he was a spy for the Court, and never considered him +as a man worthy of confidence. He soon afterwards (1727) joined +with Swift, who was then in England, to publish three volumes of “Miscellanies,” +in which, amongst other things, he inserted the “Memoirs of a +Parish Clerk,” in ridicule of Burnet’s importance in his +own history, and a “Debate upon Black and White Horses,” +written in all the formalities of a legal process by the assistance, +as is said, of Mr. Fortescue, afterwards Master of the Rolls. +Before these “Miscellanies” is a preface signed by Swift +and Pope, but apparently written by Pope, in which he makes a ridiculous +and romantic complaint of the robberies committed upon authors by the +clandestine seizure and sale of their papers. He tells in tragic +strains how “the cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead +have been broken open and ransacked,” as if those violences were +often committed for papers of uncertain and accidental value which are +rarely provoked by real treasures - as if epigrams and essays were in +danger where gold and diamonds are safe. A cat hunted for his +musk is, according to Pope’s account, but the emblem of a wit +winded by booksellers. His complaint, however, received some attestation, +for the same year the letters written by him to Mr. Cromwell in his +youth were sold by Mrs. Thomas to Curll, who printed them.<br> +<br> +In these “Miscellanies” was first published the “Art +of Sinking in Poetry,” which, by such a train of consequences +as usually passes in literary quarrels, gave in a short time, according +to Pope’s account, occasion to the “Dunciad.”<br> +<br> +In the following year (1728) he began to put Atterbury’s advice +in practice, and showed his satirical powers by publishing the “Dunciad,” +one of his greatest and most elaborate performances, in which he endeavoured +to sink into contempt all the writers by whom he had been attacked, +and some others whom he thought unable to defend themselves. At +the head of the “Dunces” he placed poor Theobald, whom he +accused of ingratitude, but whose real crime was supposed to be that +of having revised Shakespeare more happily than himself. This +satire had the effect which he intended, by blasting the characters +which it touched. Ralph, who, unnecessarily interposing in the +quarrel, got a place in a subsequent edition, complained that for a +time he was in danger of starving, as the booksellers had no longer +any confidence in his capacity. The prevalence of this poem was +gradual and slow: the plan, if not wholly new, was little understood +by common readers. Many of the allusions required illustration; +the names were often expressed only by the initial and final letters, +and if they had been printed at length were such as few had known or +recollected. The subject itself had nothing generally interesting, +for whom did it concern to know that one or another scribbler was a +dunce? If, therefore, it had been possible for those who were +attacked to conceal their pain and their resentment, the “Dunciad” +might have made its way very slowly in the world. This, however, +was not to be expected: every man is of importance to himself, and therefore, +in his own opinion, to others; and, supposing the world already acquainted +with all his pleasures and his pains, is perhaps the first to publish +injuries or misfortunes, which had never been known unless related by +himself, and at which those that hear them will only laugh, for no man +sympathises with the sorrows of vanity.<br> +<br> +The history of the “Dunciad” is very minutely related by +Pope himself in a dedication which he wrote to Lord Middlesex in the +name of Savage.<br> +<br> +“I will relate the war of the ‘Dunces’ (for so it +has been commonly called), which began in the year 1727, and ended in +1730<br> +<br> +“When Dr. Swift and Mr. Pope thought it proper, for reasons specified +in the preface to their ‘Miscellanies,’ to publish such +little pieces of theirs as had occasionally got abroad, there was added +to them the ‘Treatise of the Bathos, or the Art of Sinking in +Poetry.’ It happened that in one chapter of this piece the +several species of bad poets were ranged in classes, to which were prefixed +almost all the letters of the alphabet (the greatest part of them at +random); but such was the number of poets eminent in that art, that +some one or other took every letter to himself. All fell into +so violent a fury, that, for half a year or more, the common newspapers +(in most of which they had some property, as being hired writers) were +filled with the most abusive falsehoods and scurrilities they could +possibly devise, a liberty no way to be wondered at in those people, +and in those papers, that, for many years during the uncontrolled license +of the Press, had aspersed almost all the great characters of the age; +and this with impunity, their own persons and names being utterly secret +and obscure. This gave Mr. Pope the thought that he had now some +opportunity of doing good by detecting and dragging into light these +common enemies of mankind, since, to invalidate this universal slander, +it sufficed to show what contemptible men were the authors of it. +He was not without hopes that, by manifesting the dulness of those who +had only malice to recommend them, either the booksellers would not +find their account in employing them, or the men themselves, when discovered, +want courage to proceed in so unlawful an occupation. This it +was that gave birth to the ‘Dunciad,’ and he thought it +a happiness that, by the late flood of slander on himself, he had acquired +such a peculiar right over their names as was necessary to this design.<br> +<br> +“On the 12th of March, 1729, at St. James’s, that poem was +presented to the king and queen (who had before been pleased to read +it) by the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole, and some days after +the whole impression was taken and dispersed by several noblemen and +persons of the first distinction.<br> +<br> +It is certainly a true observation that no people are so impatient of +censure as those who are the greatest slanderers, which was wonderfully +exemplified on this occasion. On the day the book was first vended +a crowd of authors besieged the shop; entreaties, advices, threats of +law and battery - nay, cries of treason - were all employed to hinder +the coming out of the ‘Dunciad.’ On the other side, +the booksellers and hawkers made as great efforts to procure it. +What could a few poor authors do against so great a majority as the +public? There was no stopping a torrent with a finger, so out +it came.<br> +<br> +“Many ludicrous circumstances attended it. The ‘Dunces’ +(for by this name they were called) held weekly clubs, to consult of +hostilities against the author. One wrote a letter to a great +minister, assuring him Mr. Pope was the greatest enemy the Government +had, and another bought his image in clay to execute him in effigy, +with which sad sort of satisfaction the gentlemen were a little comforted. +Some false editions of the book, having an owl in their frontispiece, +the true one, to distinguish it, fixed in his stead an ass laden with +authors. Then another surreptitious one being printed with the +same ass, the new edition in octavo returned for distinction to the +owl again. Hence arose a great contest of booksellers against +booksellers, and advertisements against advertisements, some recommending +the edition of the owl, and others the edition of the ass, by which +names they came to be distinguished, to the great honour also of the +gentlemen of the ‘Dunciad.’”<br> +<br> +Pope appears by this narrative to have contemplated his victory over +the “Dunces” with great exultation; and such was his delight +in the tumult which he had raised, that for a while his natural sensibility +was suspended, and he read reproaches and invectives without emotion, +considering them only as the necessary effects of that pain which he +rejoiced in having given. It cannot, however, be concealed that, +by his own confession, he was the aggressor, for nobody believes that +the letters in the “Bathos” were placed at random; and at +may be discovered that, when he thinks himself concealed, he indulges +the common vanity of common men, and triumphs in those distinctions +which he affected to despise. He is proud that his book was presented +to the king and queen by the Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole; he +is proud that they had read it before; he is proud that the edition +was taken off by the nobility and persons of the first distinction. +The edition of which he speaks was, I believe, that which, by telling +in the text the names, and in the notes the characters, of those whom +he had satirised, was made intelligible and diverting. The critics +had now declared their approbation of the plan, and the common reader +began to like it without fear. Those who were strangers to petty +literature, and therefore unable to decipher initials and blanks, had +now names and persons brought within their view, and delighted in the +visible effects of those shafts of malice which they had hitherto contemplated +as shot into the air.<br> +<br> +Dennis, upon the fresh provocation now given him, renewed the enmity +which had for a time been appeased by mutual civilities, and published +remarks, which he had till then suppressed, upon the “Rape of +the Lock.” Many more grumbled in secret, or vented their +resentment in the newspapers by epigrams or invectives. Ducket, +indeed, being mentioned as loving Burnet with “pious passion,” +pretended that his moral character was injured, and for some time declared +his resolution to take vengeance with a cudgel. But Pope appeased +him, by changing “pious passion” to “cordial friendship,” +and by a note, in which he vehemently disclaims the malignity of the +meaning imputed to the first expression. Aaron Hill, who was represented +as diving for the prize, expostulated with Pope in a manner so much +superior to all mean solicitation, that Pope was reduced to sneak and +shuffle, sometimes to deny, and sometimes to apologies; he first endeavours +to wound, and is then afraid to own that he meant a blow.<br> +<br> +The “Dunciad,” in the complete edition, is addressed to +Dr. Swift. Of the notes, part were written by Dr. Arbuthnot, and +an apologetical letter was prefixed, signed by Cleland, but supposed +to have been written by Pope.<br> +<br> +After this general war upon dulness, he seems to have indulged himself +a while in tranquillity, but his subsequent productions prove that he +was not idle. He published (1731) a poem on “Taste,” +in which he very particularly and severely criticises the house, the +furniture, the gardens, and the entertainments of Timon, a man of great +wealth and little taste. By Timon he was universally supposed, +and by the Earl of Burlington, to whom the poem is addressed, was privately +said, to mean the Duke of Chandos, a man perhaps too much delighted +with pomp and show, but of a temper kind and beneficent, and who had +consequently the voice of the public in his favour. A violent +outcry was, therefore, raised against the ingratitude and treachery +of Pope, who was said to have been indebted to the patronage of Chandos +for a present of a thousand pounds, and who gained the opportunity of +insulting him by the kindness of his invitation. The receipt of +the thousand pounds Pope publicly denied; but from the reproach which +the attack on a character so amiable brought upon him, he tried all +means of escaping. The name of Cleland was again employed in an +apology, by which no man was satisfied, and he was at last reduced to +shelter his temerity behind dissimulation, and endeavour to make that +disbelieved which he never had confidence openly to deny. He wrote +an exculpatory letter to the duke, which was answered with great magnanimity, +as by a man who accepted his excuse without believing his professions. +He said that to have ridiculed his taste, or his buildings, had been +an indifferent action in another man, but that in Pope, after the reciprocal +kindness that had been exchanged between them, it had been less easily +excused.<br> +<br> +Pope, in one of his letters, complaining of the treatment which his +poem had found, “owns that such critics can intimidate him, nay +almost persuade him, to write no more, which is a compliment this age +deserves.” The man who threatens the world is always ridiculous, +for the world can easily go on without him, and in a short time will +cease to miss him. I have heard of an idiot, who used to revenge +his vexatious by lying all night upon the bridge. “There +is nothing,” says Juvenal, “that a man will not believe +in his own favour.” Pope had been flattered till he thought +himself one of the moving powers in the system of life. When he +talked of laying down his pen, those who sat round him entreated and +implored; and self-love did not suffer him to suspect that they went +away and laughed.<br> +<br> +The following year deprived him of Gay, a man whom he had known early, +and whom he seemed to love with more tenderness than any other of his +literary friends. Pope was now forty-four years old, an age at +which the mind begins less easily to admit new confidence, and the will +to grow less flexible, and when, therefore, the departure of an old +friend is very acutely felt. In the next year (1733) he lost his +mother, not by an unexpected death, for she had lasted to the age of +ninety-three. But she did not die unlamented. The filial +piety of Pope was in the highest degree amiable and exemplary. +His parents had the happiness of living till he was at the summit of +poetical reputation, till he was at ease in his fortune, and without +a rival in his fame, and found no diminution of his respect or tenderness. +Whatever was his pride, to them he was obedient; and whatever was his +irritability, to them he was gentle. Life has, among its soothing +and quiet comforts, few things better to give than such a son.<br> +<br> +One of the passages of Pope’s life, which seems to deserve some +inquiry, was a publication of “Letters” between him and +many of his friends, which, falling into the hands of Curll, a rapacious +bookseller, of no good fame, were by him printed and sold. This +volume containing some letters from noblemen, Pope incited a prosecution +against him in the House of Lords for breach of privilege, and attended +himself to stimulate the resentment of his friends. Curll appeared +at the bar, and, knowing himself in no great danger, spoke of Pope with +very little reverence. “He has,” said Curll, “a +knack at versifying, but in prose I think myself a match for him.” +When the orders of the House were examined, none of them appeared to +have been infringed. Curll went away triumphant, and Pope was +left to seek some other remedy.<br> +<br> +Curll’s account was, that one evening a man in a clergyman’s +gown, but with a lawyer’s band, brought and offered for sale a +number of printed volumes, which he found to be Pope’s epistolary +correspondence; that he asked no name, and was told none, but gave the +price demanded, and thought himself authorised to use his purchase to +his own advantage. That Curll gave a true account of the transaction +it is reasonable to believe, because no falsehood was ever detected; +and when, some years afterwards, I mentioned it to Lintot, the son of +Bernard, he declared his opinion to be, that Pope knew better than anybody +else how Curll obtained the copies, because another parcel was at the +same time sent to himself, for which no price had ever been demanded, +as he made known his resolution not to pay a porter, and consequently +not to deal with a nameless agent. Such care had been taken to +make them public, that they were sent at once to two booksellers; to +Curll, who was likely to seize them as a prey, and to Lintot, who might +he expected to give Pope information of the seeming injury. Lintot, +I believe, did nothing, and Curll did what was expected. That +to make them public was the only purpose may be reasonably supposed, +because the numbers offered to sale by the private messengers showed +that the hope of gain could not have been the motive of the impression. +It seems that Pope, being desirous of printing his “Letters,” +and not knowing how to do, without imputation of vanity, what has in +this country been done very rarely, contrived an appearance of compulsion, +that, when he could complain that his “Letters” were surreptitiously +published, he might decently and defensively publish them himself.<br> +<br> +Pope’s private correspondence, thus promulgated, filled the nation +with the praises of his candour, tenderness, and benevolence, the purity +of his purposes, and the fidelity of his friendship. There were +some letters which a very good or a wise man would wish suppressed; +but, as they had been already exposed, it was impracticable now to retract +them. From the perusal of those letters, Mr. Allen first conceived +the desire of knowing him; and with so much zeal did he cultivate the +friendship which he had newly formed, that, when Pope told his purpose +of vindicating his own property by a genuine edition, he offered to +pay the cost. This, however, Pope did not accept; but in time +solicited a subscription for a quarto volume, which appeared (1737), +I believe, with sufficient profit. In the preface he tells that +his letters were reposited in a friend’s library, said to be the +Earl of Oxford’s, and that the copy thence stolen was sent to +the press. The story was doubtless received with different degrees +of credit. It may be suspected that the preface to the “Miscellanies” +was written to prepare the public for such an incident; and, to strengthen +this opinion, James Worsdale, a painter, who was employed in clandestine +negotiations, but whose voracity was very doubtful, declared that he +was the messenger who carried, by Pope’s direction, the books +to Curll. When they were thus published and avowed, as they had +relation to recent facts, and persons either then living or not yet +forgotten, they may be supposed to have found readers; but, as the facts +were minute, and the characters being either private or literary, were +little known, or little regarded, they awaked no popular kindness or +resentment. The book never became much the subject of conversation. +Some read it as a contemporary history, and some perhaps as a model +of epistolary language; but those who read it did not talk of it. +Not much therefore was added by it to fame or envy, nor do I remember +that it produced either public praise or public censure. It had, +however, in some degree, the recommendation of novelty. Our language +had few letters, except those of statesmen. Howel, indeed, about +a century ago, published his “Letters,” which are commended +by Morhoff, and which alone, of his hundred volumes, continue his memory. +Loveday’s “Letters” were printed only once; those +of Herbert and Suckling are hardly known. Mrs. Phillips’s +(Orinda’s) are equally neglected. And those of Walsh seem +written as exercises, and were never sent to any living mistress or +friend. Pope’s epistolary excellence had an open field; +he had no English rival, living or dead.<br> +<br> +Pope is seen in this collection as connected with the other contemporary +wits, and certainly suffers no disgrace in the comparison; but it must +be remembered that he had the power of favouring himself. He might +have originally had publication in his mind, and have written with care, +or have afterwards selected those which he had most happily conceived +or most diligently laboured; and I know not whether there does not appear +something more studied and artificial in his productions than the rest, +except one long letter by Bolingbroke, composed with all the skill and +industry of a professed author. It is indeed not easy to distinguish +affectation from habit; he that has once studiously formed a style, +rarely writes afterwards with complete ease. Pope may be said +to write always with his reputation in his head; Swift, perhaps, like +a man that remembered he was writing to Pope; but Arbuthnot, like one +who lets thoughts drop from his pen as they rise into his mind. +Before these “Letters” appeared he published the first part +of what he persuaded himself to think a system of Ethics, under the +title of an “Essay on Man,” which, if his letter to Swift +(of September 14, 1723), be rightly explained by the commentator, had +been eight years under his consideration, and of which he seems to have +desired the success with great solicitude. He had now many open, +and doubtless many secret, enemies. The “Dunces” were +yet smarting from the war, and the superiority which he publicly arrogated +disposed the world to wish his humiliation. All this he knew, +and against all this he provided. His own name, and that of his +friend to whom the work is inscribed, were in the first editions carefully +suppressed; and the poem being of a new kind was ascribed to one or +another as favour determined or conjecture wandered. It was given, +says Warburton, to every man except him only who could write it. +Those who like only when they like the author, and who are under the +dominion of a name, condemned it, and those admired it who are willing +to scatter praise at random, which, while it is unappropriated, excites +no envy. Those friends of Pope that were trusted with the secret +went about lavishing honours on the new-born poet, and hinting that +Pope was never so much in danger from any former rival. To those +authors whom he had personally offended, and to those whose opinion +the world considered as decisive, and whom he suspected of envy or malevolence, +he sent his Essay as a present before publication, that they might defeat +their own enemity by praises which they could not afterwards decently +retract. With these precautions, in 1733, was published the first +part of the “Essay on Man.” There had been for some +time a report that Pope was busy upon a “System of Morality,” +but this design was not discovered in the new poem, which had a form +and a title with which its readers were unacquainted. Its reception +was not uniform. Some thought it a very imperfect piece, though +not without good lines. While the author was unknown, some, as +will always happen, favoured him as an adventurer, and some censured +him as an intruder, but all thought him above neglect. The sale +increased, and editions were multiplied. The subsequent editions +of the first epistle exhibited two memorable corrections. At first, +the poet and his friend<br> +<br> +<br> +“Expatiate freely o’er this scene of man,<br> +A mighty maze <i>of walks without a plan</i>;”<br> +<br> +<br> +for which he wrote afterwards,<br> +<br> +<br> +“A mighty maze, <i>but not without a plan</i>;”<br> +<br> +<br> +for if there was no plan it was in vain to describe or to trace the +maze.<br> +<br> +The other alteration was of these lines:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“And spike of pride, <i>and in thy reason’s spite</i>,<br> +One truths is clear, whatever is, is right:<br> +<br> +<br> +but having afterwards discovered, or been shown, that the “truth” +which subsisted “in spite of reason” could not be very “clear,” +he substituted<br> +<br> +<br> +“And spite of pride <i>in erring reason’s spite.</i>”<br> +<br> +<br> +To such oversights will the most vigorous mind be liable when it is +employed at once upon argument and poetry.<br> +<br> +The second and third epistles were published, and Pope was, I believe, +more and more suspected of writing them. At last, in 1734, he +avowed the fourth, and claimed the honour of a moral poet. In +the conclusion it is sufficiently acknowledged that the doctrine of +the “Essay on Man” was received from Bolingbroke, who is +said to have ridiculed Pope, among those who enjoyed his confidence, +as having adopted and advanced principles of which he did not perceive +the consequence, and as blindly propagating opinions contrary to his +own. That those communications had been consolidated into a scheme +regularly drawn, and delivered to Pope, from whom it returned only transformed +from prose to verse, has been reported, but hardly can be true. +The essay plainly appears the fabric of a poet; what Bolingbroke supplied +could be only the first principles, the order, illustration, and embellishments, +must all be Pope’s. These principles it is not my business +to clear from obscurity, dogmatism, or falsehood, but they were not +immediately examined. Philosophy and poetry have not often the +same readers; and the essay abounded in splendid amplifications and +sparkling sentences, which were read and admired with no great attention +to their ultimate purpose. Its flowers caught the eye, which did +not see what the gay foliage concealed, and for a time flourished in +the sunshine of universal approbation. So little was any evil +tendency discovered, that, as innocence is unsuspicious, many read it +for a manual of piety. Its reputation soon invited a translator. +It was first turned into French prose, and afterwards by Resnel into +verse. Both translations fell into the hands of Crousaz, who first, +when he had the version in prose, wrote a general censure, and afterwards +reprinted Resnel’s version, with particular remarks upon every +paragraph.<br> +<br> +Crousaz was a professor of Switzerland, eminent for his treatise of +logic, and his “Examen de Pyrrhonisme,” and, however little +known or regarded here, was no mean antagonist. His mind was one +of those in which philosophy and piety are happily united. He +was accustomed to argument and disquisition, and perhaps was grown too +desirous of detecting faults, but his intentions were always right, +his opinions were solid, and his religion pure. His incessant +vigilance for the promotion of piety disposed him to look with distrust +upon all metaphysical systems of theology, and all schemes of virtue +and happiness purely rational; and therefore it was not long before +he was persuaded that the positions of Pope, as they terminated for +the most part in natural religion, were intended to draw mankind away +from revelation, and to represent the whole course of things as a necessary +concatenation of indissoluble fatality, and it is undeniable that in +many passages a religious eye may easily discover expressions not very +favourable to morals or to liberty.<br> +<br> +About this time Warburton began to make his appearance in the first +ranks of learning. He was a man of vigorous faculties, a mind +fervid and vehement, supplied by incessant and unlimited inquiry, with +wonderful extent and variety of knowledge, which yet had not oppressed +his imagination nor clouded his perspicacity. To every work he +brought a memory full fraught, together with a fancy fertile of original +combinations and at once exerted the powers of the scholar, the reasoner, +and the wit. But his knowledge was too multifarious to be always +exact, and his pursuits were too eager to be always cautions. +His abilities gave him a haughty confidence, which he disdained to conceal +or mollify, and his impatience of opposition disposed him to treat his +adversaries with such contemptuous superiority as made his readers commonly +his enemies, and excited against the advocate the wishes of some who +favoured the cause. He seems to have adopted the Roman Emperor’s +determination, <i>oderint dum metuant</i>; he used no allurements of +gentle language, but wished to compel rather than persuade. His +style is copious without selection, and forcible without neatness. +He took the words that presented themselves. His diction is coarse +and impure, and his sentences are unmeasured. He had in the early +part of his life pleased himself with the notice of inferior wits, and +corresponded with the enemies of Pope. A letter was produced, +when he had perhaps himself forgotten it, in which he tells Concanen, +“Dryden, I observe, borrows for want of leisure, and Pope for +want of genius, Milton out of pride, and Addison out of modesty.” +And when Theobald published Shakespeare, in opposition to Pope, the +best notes were supplied by Warburton. But the time was now come +when Warburton was to change his opinion, and Pope was to find a defender +in him who had contributed so much to the exaltation of his rival.<br> +<br> +The arrogance of Warburton excited against him every artifice of offence, +and therefore it may be supposed that his union with Pope was censured +as hypocritical inconstancy, but surely to think differently at different +times of poetical merit may be easily allowed. Such opinions are +often admitted, and dismissed without nice examination. Who is +there that has not found reason for changing his mind about questions +of greater importance?<br> +<br> +Warburton, whatever was his motive, undertook, without solicitation, +to rescue Pope from the talons of Crousaz, by freeing him from the imputation +of favouring fatality or rejecting revelation; and from month to month +continued a vindication of the “Essay on Man,” in the literary +journal of that time called the “Republic of Letters.”<br> +<br> +Pope, who probably began to doubt the tendency of his own work, was +glad that the positions, of which he perceived himself not to know the +full meaning, could by any mode of interpretation be made to mean well. +How much he was pleased with his gratuitous defender the following letter +evidently shows:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“April 11, 1739.<br> +<br> +“Sir, - I have just received from Mr. R. two more of your letters. +It is in the greatest hurry imaginable that I write this; but I cannot +help thanking you in particular for your third letter, which is so extremely +clear, short, and full, that I think Mr. Crousaz ought never to have +another answer, and deserved not so good an one. I can only say, +you do him too much honour, and me too much right, so odd as the expression +seems; for you have made my system as clear as I ought to have done, +and could not. It is indeed the same system as mine, but illustrated +with a ray of your own, as they say our natural body is the same still +when it is glorified. I am sure I like it better than I did before, +and so will every man else. I know I meant just what you explain; +but I did not explain my own meaning so well as you. You understand +me as well as I do myself; but you express me better than I could express +myself. Pray accept the sincerest acknowledgments. I cannot +but wish these letters were put together in one book, and intend (with +your leave) to procure a translation of part at least, or of all of +them, into French; but I shall not proceed a step without your consent +and opinion,” &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +By this fond and eager acceptance of an exculpatory comment Pope testified +that, whatever might be the seeming or real import of the principles +which he had received from Bolingbroke, he had not intentionally attacked +religion; and Bolingbroke, if he meant to make him, without his own +consent, an instrument of mischief, found him now engaged, with his +eyes open, on the side of truth. It is known that Bolingbroke +concealed from Pope his real opinions. He once discovered them +to Mr. Hooke, who related them again to Pope, and was told by him that +he must have mistaken the meaning of what he heard: and Bolingbroke, +when Pope’s uneasiness incited him to desire an explanation, declared +that Hooke had misunderstood him.<br> +<br> +Bolingbroke hated Warburton, who had drawn his pupil from him; and a +little before Pope’s death they had a dispute, from which they +parted with mutual aversion. From this time Pope lived in the +closest intimacy with his commentator, and amply rewarded his kindness +and his zeal, for he introduced him to Mr. Murray, by whose interest +he became preacher at Lincoln’s Inn, and to Mr. Allen, who gave +him his niece and his estate, and by consequence a bishopric. +When he died, he left him the property of his works, a legacy which +may be reasonably estimated at four thousand pounds.<br> +<br> +Pope’s fondness for the “Essay on Man” appeared by +his desire of its propagation. Dobson, who had gained reputation +by his version of Prior’s “Solomon,” was employed +by him to translate it into Latin verse, and was for that purpose some +time at Twickenham; but he left his work, whatever was the reason, unfinished; +and, by Benson’s invitation, undertook the longer task of “Paradise +Lost.” Pope then desired his friend to find a scholar who +should turn his essay into Latin prose; but no such performance has +ever appeared.<br> +<br> +Pope lived at this time <i>among the great, </i>with that reception +and respect to which his works entitled him, and which he had not impaired +by any private misconduct or factious partiality. Though Bolingbroke +was his friend, Walpole was not his enemy, but treated him with so much +consideration as, at his request, to solicit and obtain from the French +Minister an abbey for Mr. Southcot, whom he considered himself as obliged +to reward, by his exertion of his interest, for the benefit which he +had received from his attendance in a long illness. It was said, +that when the Court was at Richmond, Queen Caroline had declared her +intention to visit him. This may have been only a careless effusion, +thought on no more. The report of such notice, however, was soon +in many mouths; and, if I do not forget or misapprehend Savage’s +account, Pope, pretending to decline what was not yet offered, left +his house for a time, not, I suppose, for any other reason than lest +he should be thought to stay at home in expectation of an honour which +would not be conferred. He was therefore angry at Swift, who represents +him as “refusing the visits of a queen,” because he knew +that what had never been offered had never been refused.<br> +<br> +Beside the general system of morality, supposed to be contained in the +“Essay on Man,” it was his intention to write distinct poems +upon the different duties or conditions of life, one of which is the +“Epistle to Lord Bathurst” (1733) on the “Use of Riches,” +a piece on which he declared great labour to have been bestowed. +Into this poem some hints are historically thrown, and some known characters +are introduced, with others of which it is difficult to say how far +they are real or fictitious: but the praise of Kryle, the Man of Ross, +deserves particular examination, who, after a long and pompous enumeration +of his public works and private charities, is said to have diffused +all those blessings from five hundred a year. Wonders are willingly +told and willingly heard. The truth is, that Kyrle was a man of +known integrity and active benevolence, by whose solicitation the wealthy +were persuaded to pay contributions to his charitable schemes. +This influence he obtained by an example of liberality exerted to the +utmost extent of his power, and was thus enabled to give more than he +had. This account Mr. Victor received from the minister of the +place, and I have preserved it, that the praise of a good man, being +made more credible, may be more solid. Narrations of romantic +and impracticable virtue will be read with wonder, but that which is +unattainable is recommended in vain; that good may be endeavoured it +must be shown to be possible. This is the only piece in which +the author has given a hint of his religion, by ridiculing the ceremony +of burning the Pope, and by mentioning with some indignation the inscription +on the Monument.<br> +<br> +When this poem was first published, the dialogue having no letters of +direction was perplexed and obscure. Pope seems to have written +with no very distinct idea, for he calls that an “Epistle to Bathurst,” +in which Bathurst is introduced as speaking. He afterwards (1734) +inscribed to Lord Cobham his “Characters of Men,” written +with close attention to the operations of the mind and modifications +of life. In this poem he has endeavoured to establish and exemplify +his favourite theory of the <i>ruling passion</i>, by which he means +an original direction of desire to some particular object, an innate +affection which gives all action a determinate and invariable tendency, +and operates upon the whole system of life, either openly, cut more +secretly by the intervention of some accidental or subordinate propension. +Of any passion, thus innate and irresistible, the existence may reasonably +be doubted. Human characters are by no means constant; men change +by change of place, of fortune, of acquaintance. He who is at +one time a lover of pleasure, is at another a lover of money. +Those, indeed, who attain any excellence commonly spend life in one +pursuit, for excellence is not often gained upon easier terms. +But to the particular species of excellence men are directed, not by +an ascendant planet or predominating humour, but by the first book which +they read, some early conversation which they heard, or some accident +which excited ardour and emulation. It must at least be allowed +that this ruling passion, antecedent to reason and observation, must +have an object independent on human contrivance, for there can be no +natural desire of artificial good. No man, therefore, can be born, +in the strict acceptation, a lover of money, for he may be born where +money does not exist; nor can he be born in a moral sense a lover of +his country, for society politically regulated is a state contradistinguished +from a state of nature, and any attention to that coalition of interests +which makes the happiness of a country is possible only to those whom +inquiry and reflection have enabled to comprehend it. This doctrine +is in itself pernicious as well as false; its tendency is to produce +the belief of a kind of moral predestination or over-ruling principle +which cannot be resisted. He that admits it is prepared to comply +with every desire that caprice or opportunity shall excite, and to flatter +himself that he submits only to the lawful dominion of nature in obeying +the resistless authority of his ruling passion.<br> +<br> +Pope has formed his theory with so little skill that in the examples +by which he illustrates and confirms it he has confounded passions, +appetites, and habits. To the “Characters of Men” +he added soon after, in an epistle supposed to have been addressed to +Martha Blount, but which the last edition has taken from her, the “Characters +of Women.” This poem, which was laboured with great diligence +and in the author’s opinion with great success, was neglected +at its first publication, as the commentator supposes, because the public +was informed by an advertisement that it contained no character drawn +from the life, an assertion which Pope probably did not expect nor wished +to have been believed, and which he soon gave his readers sufficient +reason to distrust, by telling them in a note that the work was imperfect +because part of his subject was vice too high to be yet exposed. +The time, however, soon came in which it was safe to display the Duchess +of Marlborough under the name of Atossa, and her character was inserted +with no great honour to the writer’s gratitude.<br> +<br> +He published from time to time (between 1730 and 1740) imitations of +different poems of Horace, generally with his name, and once, as was +suspected, without it. What he was upon moral principles ashamed +to own he ought to have suppressed. Of these pieces it is useless +to settle the dates, as they had seldom much relation to the times, +and perhaps had been long in his hands. This mode of imitation, +in which the ancients are familiarised by adapting their sentiments +to modern topics, by making Horace say of Shakespeare what he originally +said of Ennius, and accommodating his satires on Pantolabus and Nomentanus +to the flatterers and prodigals of our own time, was first practised +in the reign of Charles the Second, by Oldham and Rochester, at least +I remember no instances more ancient. It is a kind of middle composition +between translation and original design, which pleases when the thoughts +are unexpectedly applicable, and the parallels lucky. It seems +to have been Pope’s favourite amusement, for he has carried it +farther than any former poet. He published likewise a revival, +in smoother numbers, of Dr. Donne’s “Satires,” which +was recommended to him by the Duke of Shrewsbury and the Earl of Oxford. +They made no great impression on the public. Pope seems to have +known their imbecility and therefore suppressed them while he was yet +contending to rise in reputation, but ventured them when he thought +their deficiencies more likely to be imputed to Donne than to himself.<br> +<br> +The “Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot,” which seems to be derived +in its first design from Boileau’s Address <i>à son Esprit, +</i>was published in January, 1735<i>, </i>about a month before the +death of him to whom it is inscribed. It is to be regretted that +either honour or pleasure should have been missed by Arbuthnot, a man +estimable for his learning, amiable for his life, and venerable for +his piety. Arbuthnot was a man of great comprehension, skilful +in his profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with ancient literature, +and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright and active imagination; +a scholar with great brilliance of wit, a wit who, in the crowd of life, +retained and discovered a noble ardour of religious zeal. In this +poem Pope seems to reckon with the public. He vindicates himself +from censures, and with dignity rather than arrogance enforces his own +claims to kindness and respect. Into this poem are interwoven +several paragraphs which had been before printed, as a fragment, and +among them the satirical lines upon Addison, of which the last couplet +has been twice corrected. It was at first -<br> +<br> +<br> +“Who would not smile if such a man there be?<br> +Who would not laugh if Addison were he?”<br> +<br> +<br> +Then -<br> +<br> +<br> +“Who would not grieve if such a man there be?<br> +Who would not laugh if Addison were he?”<br> +<br> +<br> +At last it is -<br> +<br> +<br> +“Who but must laugh if such a man there he?<br> +Who would not weep if Atticus were he?”<br> +<br> +<br> +He was at this time at open war with Lord Hervey, who had distinguished +himself as a steady adherent to the ministry, and being offended with +a contemptuous answer to one of his pamphlets, had summoned Pulteney +to a duel. Whether he or Pope made the first attack perhaps cannot +now be easily known. He had written an invective against Pope, +whom he calls, “Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure;” +and hints that his father was a hatter. To this Pope wrote a reply +in verse and prose. The verses are in this poem, and the prose, +though it was never sent, is printed among his letters; but to a cool +reader of the present time exhibits nothing but tedious malignity.<br> +<br> +His last “Satires” of the general kind, were two Dialogues, +named, from the year in which they were published, “Seventeen +hundred and thirty-eight.” In these poems many are praised +and many reproached. Pope was then entangled in the opposition, +a follower of the Prince of Wales, who dined at his house, and the friend +of many who obstructed and censured the conduct of the ministers. +His political partiality was too plainly shown; he forgot the prudence +with which he passed, in his earlier years, uninjured and unoffending, +through much more violent conflicts of faction. In the first Dialogue, +having an opportunity of praising Allen of Bath, he asked his leave +to mention him as a man not illustrious by any merit of his ancestors, +and called him in his verses “low-born Allen.” Men +are seldom satisfied with praise introduced or followed by any mention +of defect. Allen seems not to have taken any pleasure in his epithet, +which was afterwards softened into “humble Allen.” +In the second Dialogue he took some liberty with one of the Foxes among +others; which Fox in a reply to Lyttelton, took an opportunity of repaying, +by reproaching him with the friendship of a lampooner, who scattered +his ink without fear or decency, and against whom he hoped the resentment +of the Legislature would quickly be discharged.<br> +<br> +About this time Paul Whitehead, a small poet, was summoned before the +Lords for a poem called “Manners,” together with Dodsley, +his publisher. Whitehead, who hung loose upon society, skulked +and escaped, but Dodsley’s shop and family made his appearance +necessary. He was, however, soon dismissed, and the whole process +was probably intended rather to intimidate Pope than to punish Whitehead.<br> +<br> +Pope never afterwards attempted to join the patriot with the poet, nor +drew his pen upon statesmen. That he desisted from his attempts +of reformation is imputed by his commentator to his despair of prevailing +over the corruption of the time. He was not likely to have been +ever of opinion that the dread of his satire would countervail the love +of power or of money; he pleased himself with being important and formidable, +and gratified sometimes his pride, and sometimes his resentment, till +at last he began to think he should be more safe if he were less busy.<br> +<br> +The “Memoirs of Scriblerus,” published about this time, +extend only to the first book of a work projected in concert by Pope, +Swift, and Arbuthnot, who used to meet on the time of Queen Anne, and +denominated themselves the “Scriblerus Club.” Their +purpose was to censure the abuses of learning by a fictitious life of +an infatuated scholar. They were dispersed; the design was never +completed, and Warburton laments its miscarriage as an event very disastrous +to polite letters. If the whole may be estimated by this specimen, +which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot, with a few touches perhaps +by Pope, the want of more will not be much lamented; for the follies +which the writer ridicules are so little practised that they are not +known; nor can the satire be understood but by the learned. He +raises phantoms of absurdity, and then drives them away. He cures +diseases that were never felt. For this reason this joint production +of three great writers has never obtained any notice from mankind. +It has been little read, or when read has been forgotten, as no man +could be wiser, better, or merrier, by remembering it. The design +cannot boast of much originality; for, besides its general resemblance +to “Don Quixote,” there will be found in it particular imitations +of the “History of Mr. Ouffle.”<br> +<br> +Swift carried so much of it into Ireland as supplied him with hints +for his “Travels;” and with those the world might have been +contented, though the rest had been suppressed.<br> +<br> +Pope had sought for images and sentiments in a region not known to have +been explored by many other of the English writers. He had consulted +the modern writers of Latin poetry, a class of authors whom Boileau +endeavoured to bring into contempt, and who are too generally neglected. +Pope, however, was not ashamed of their acquaintance, nor ungrateful +for the advantages which he might have derived from it. A small +selection from the Italians, who wrote in Latin, had been published +at London, about the latter end of the last century, by a man who concealed +his name, but whom his preface shows to have been qualified for his +undertaking. This collection Pope amplified by more than half, +and (1740) published it in two volumes, but injuriously omitted his +predecessor’s preface. To these books, which had nothing +but the mere text, no regard was paid; the authors were still neglected, +and the editor was neither praised nor censured. He did not sink +into idleness; he had planned a work, which he considered as subsequent +to his “Essay on Man,” of which he has given this account +to Dr. Swift:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“March 25, 1736.<br> +<br> +“If ever I write any more Epistles in verse, one of them shall +be addressed to you. I have long concerted it and begun it; but +I would make what bears your name as finished as my last work ought +to be, that is to say, more finished than any of the rest. The +subject is large, and will divide into four Epistles, which naturally +follow the ‘Essay on Man,’ viz: 1. Of the Extent and +Limits of Human Reason and Science. 2. A view of the useful and +therefore attainable, and of the unuseful and therefore unattainable +Arts. 3. Of the Nature, Ends, Application, and Use, of different +Capacities. 4. Of the Use of Learning, of the Science, of the +World, and of Wit. It will conclude with a satire against the +misapplication of all these, exemplified by Pictures, Characters, and +Examples.”<br> +<br> +<br> +This work in its full extent - being now afflicted with an asthma, and +finding the powers of life gradually declining - he had no longer courage +to undertake; but, from the materials which he had provided, he added, +at Warburton’s request, another book to the “Dunciad,” +of which the design is to ridicule such studies as are either hopeless +or useless, as either pursue what is unattainable, or what, if it be +attained, is of no use. When this book was printed (1742) the +laurel had been for some time upon the head of Cibber, a man whom it +cannot be supposed that Pope could regard with much kindness or esteem, +though in one of the imitations of Horace he has liberally enough praised +the “Careless Husband.” In the “Dunciad,” +among other worthless scribblers, he had mentioned Cibber, who, in his +“Apology,” complains of the great Poet’s unkindness +as more injurious, “because,” says he, “I never have +offended him.”<br> +<br> +It might have been expected that Pope should have been in some degree +mollified by this submissive gentleness, but no such consequence appeared. +Though he condescended to commend Cibber once, he mentioned him afterwards +contemptuously in one of his satires, and again in his “Epistle +to Arbuthnot,” and in the fourth book of the “Dunciad” +attacked him with acrimony, to which the provocation is not easily discoverable. +Perhaps he imagined that, in ridiculing the Laureate, he satirised those +by whom the laurel had been given, and gratified that ambitious petulance +with which he affected to insult the great. The severity of this +satire left Cibber no longer any patience. He had confidence enough +in his own powers to believe that he could disturb the quiet of his +adversary, and doubtless did not want instigators, who, without any +care about the victory, desired to amuse themselves by looking on the +contest. He therefore gave the town a pamphlet, in which he declares +his resolution from that time never to bear another blow without returning +it, and to tire out his adversary by perseverance if he cannot conquer +him by strength.<br> +<br> +The incessant and unappeasable malignity of Pope he imputes to a very +distant cause. After the <i>Three Hours After Marriage</i> had +been driven off the stage, by the offence which the mummy and crocodile +gave the audience, while the exploded scene was yet fresh in memory, +it happened that Cibber played Bayes in the <i>Rehearsal</i>; and, as +it had been usual to enliven the part by the mention of any recent theatrical +transactions, he said, that he once thought to have introduced his lovers +disguised in a mummy and a crocodile. “This,” says +he, “was received with loud claps, which indicated contempt for +the play.” Pope, who was behind the scenes, meeting him +as he left the stage, attacked him, as he says, with all the virulence +of a “wit out of his senses;” to which he replied, “that +he would take no other notice of what was said by so particular a man, +than to declare, that as often as he played that part he would repeat +the same provocation.” He shows his opinion to be that Pope +was one of the authors of the play which he so zealously defended, and +adds an idle story of Pope’s behaviour at a tavern.<br> +<br> +The pamphlet was written with little power of thought or language, and, +if suffered to remain without notice, would have been very soon forgotten. +Pope had now been enough acquainted with human life to know, if his +passion had not been too powerful for his understanding, that, from +a contention like his with Cibber, the world seeks nothing but diversion, +which is given at the expense of the higher character. When Cibber +lampooned Pope, curiosity was excited. What Pope would say of +Cibber nobody inquired, but in hope that Pope’s asperity might +betray his pain and lessen his dignity. He should therefore have +suffered the pamphlet to flutter and die, without confessing that it +stung him. The dishonour of being shown as Cibber’s antagonist +could never be compensated by the victory. Cibber had nothing +to lose. When Pope had exhausted all his malignity upon him, he +would rise in the esteem both of his friends and his enemies. +Silence only could have made him despicable; the blow which did not +appear to be felt would have been struck in vain. But Pope’s +irascibility prevailed, and he resolved to tell the whole English world +that he was at war with Cibber; and, to show that he thought him to +common adversary, he prepared no common vengeance. He published +a new edition of the “Dunciad,” in which he degraded Theobald +from his painful pre-eminence, and enthroned Cibber in his stead. +Unhappily the two heroes were of opposite characters, and Pope was unwilling +to lose what he had already written. He has therefore depraved +his poem by giving to Cibber the old books, the old pedantry, and the +sluggish pertinacity of Theobald.<br> +<br> +Pope was ignorant enough of his own interest to make another change, +and introduced Osborne contending for a prize among the booksellers. +Osborne was a man entirely destitute of shame, without sense of any +disgrace but that of poverty. He told me, when he was doing that +which raised Pope’s resentment, that he should be put into the +“Dunciad;” but he had the fate of Cassandra. I gave +no credit to his prediction, till in time I saw it accomplished. +The shafts of satire were directed equally in vain against Cibber and +Osborne; being repelled by the impenetrable impudence of one, and deadened +by the impassive dulness of the other. Pope confessed his own +pain by his anger; but he gave no pain to those who had provoked him. +He was able to hurt none but himself; by transferring the same ridicule +from one to another, he reduced himself to the insignificance of his +own magpie, who from his cage calls cuckold at a venture.<br> +<br> +Cibber, according to his engagement, repaid the “Dunciad” +with another pamphlet, which, Pope said, “would be as good as +a dose of hartshorn to him;” but his tongue and his heart were +at variance. I have heard Mr. Richardson relate that he attended +his father the painter on a visit, when one of Cibber’s pamphlets +came into the hands of Pope, who said, “These things are my diversion.” +They sat by him while he perused it, and saw his features writhing with +anguish: and young Richardson said to his father, when they returned, +that he hoped to be preserved from such diversion as had been that day +the lot of Pope. From this time, finding his diseases more oppressive, +and his vital powers gradually declining, he no longer strained his +faculties with any original composition, nor proposed any other employment +for his remaining life than the revisal and correction of his former +works, in which he received advice and assistance from Warburton, whom +he appears to have trusted and honoured in the highest degree. +He laid aside his Epic Poem, perhaps without much loss to mankind; for +his hero was Brutus the Trojan, who, according to a ridiculous fiction, +established a colony in Britain. The subject, therefore, was of +the fabulous age; the actors were a race upon whom imagination has been +exhausted, and attention wearied, and to whom the mind will not easily +be recalled, when it is invited in blank verse, which Pope had adopted +with great imprudence, and, I think, without due consideration of the +nature of our language. The sketch is, at least in part, preserved +by Ruffhead, by which it appears that Pope was thoughtless enough to +model the names of his heroes with terminations not consistent with +the time or country in which he places them. He lingered through +the next year, but perceived himself, as he expresses it, “going +down the hill.” He had for at least five years been afflicted +with an asthma, and other disorders, which his physicians were unable +to relieve. Towards the end of his life he consulted Dr. Thomson, +a man who had, by large promises, and free censures of the common practice +of physic, forced himself up into sudden reputation. Thomson declared +his distemper to be a dropsy, and evacuated part of the water by tincture +of jalap, but confessed that his belly did not subside. Thomson +had many enemies, and Pope was persuaded to dismiss him.<br> +<br> +While he was yet capable of amusement and conversation, as he was one +day sitting in the air with Lord Bolingbroke and Lord Marchmont, he +saw his favourite Martha Blount at the bottom of the terrace, and asked +Lord Bolingbroke to go and hand her up. Bolingbroke, not liking +his errand, crossed his legs and sat still; but Lord Marchmont, who +was younger and less captious, waited on the lady, who, when he came +to her, asked, “What, is he not dead yet?” She is +said to have neglected him with shameful unkindness, in the latter time +of his decay; yet, of the little which he had to leave she had a very +great part. Their acquaintance began early; the life of each was +pictured on the other’s mind; their conversation therefore was +endearing, for when they met, there was an immediate coalition of congenial +notions. Perhaps he considered her unwillingness to approach the +chamber of sickness as female weakness, or human frailty; perhaps he +was conscious to himself of peevishness and impatience, or, though he +was offended by her inattention, might yet consider her merit as overbalancing +her fault; and if he had suffered his heart to be alienated from her, +he could have found nothing that might fill her place; he could have +only shrunk within himself. It was too late to transfer his confidence +or fondness.<br> +<br> +In May, 1744, his death was approaching. On the 6th he was all +day delirious, which he mentioned for days afterwards as a sufficient +humiliation of the vanity of man; he afterwards complained of seeing +things as through a curtain, and in false colours, and one day, its +the presence of Dodsley, asked what arm it was that came from the wall. +He said that his greatest inconvenience was inability to think. +Bolingbroke sometimes wept over him in this state of helpless decay; +and being told by Spence, that Pope, at the intermission of his deliriousness, +was always saying something kind either of his present or absent friends, +and that his humanity seemed to have survived his understanding, answered, +“It has so.” And added, “I never in my life +knew a man that had so tender a heart for his particular friends, or +more general friendship for mankind.” At another time he +said, “I have known Pope these thirty years, and value myself +more in his friendship than - ” His grief then suppressed +his voice.<br> +<br> +Pope expressed undoubting confidence of a future state. Being +asked by his friend Mr. Hooke, a papist, whether he would not die like +his father and mother, and whether a priest should not be called, he +answered, “I do not think it essential, but it will be very right; +and I thank you for putting me in mind of it.” In the morning, +after the priest had given him the last sacraments, he said “There +is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship; and indeed +friendship itself is only a part of virtue.” He died in +the evening of the 30th day of May 1744, so placidly, that the attendants +did not discern the exact time of his expiration. He was buried +at Twickenham, near his father and mother, where a monument has been +erected to him by his commentator, the Bishop of Gloucester.<br> +<br> +He left the care of his papers to his executors; first to Lord Bolingbroke, +and, if he should not be living, to the Earl of Marchmont, undoubtedly +expecting them to be proud of the trust, and eager to extend his fame. +But let no man dream of influence beyond his life. After a decent +time Dodsley, the bookseller, went to solicit preference as the publisher, +and was told that the parcel had not been yet inspected; and, whatever +was the reason, the world has been disappointed of what was “reserved +for the next age.” He lost, indeed, the favour of Bolingbroke +by a kind of posthumous offence. The political pamphlet called +“The Patriot King” had been put into his hands that he might +procure the impression of a very few copies, to be distributed, according +to the author’s direction, among his friends, and Pope assured +him that no more had been printed than were allowed; but, soon after +his death, the printer brought and resigned a complete edition of fifteen +hundred copies, which Pope had ordered him to print and retain in secret. +He kept, as was observed, his engagement to Pope better than Pope had +kept it to his friend; and nothing was known of the transaction till, +upon the death of his employer, he thought himself obliged to deliver +the books to the right owner, who, with great indignation, made a fire +in his yard, and delivered the whole impression to the flames.<br> +<br> +Hitherto nothing had been done which was not naturally dictated by resentment +of violated faith; resentment more acrimonious, as the violator had +been more loved or more trusted. But here the anger might have +stopped; the injury was private, and there was little danger from the +example. Bolingbroke, however, was not yet satisfied. His +thirst of vengeance excited him to blast the memory of the man over +whom he had wept in his last struggles; and he employed Mallet, another +friend of Pope, to tell the tale to the public, with all its aggravations. +Warburton, whose heart was warm with his legacy and tender by the recent +separation, thought it proper for him to interpose, and undertook, not +indeed to vindicate the action, for breach of trust has always something +criminal, but to extenuate it by an apology. Having advanced what +cannot be denied, that moral obliquity is made more or less excusable +by the motives that produce it, he inquires what evil purpose could +have induced Pope to break his promise. He could not delight his +vanity by usurping the work, which, though not sold in shops, had been +shown to a number more than sufficient to preserve the author’s +claim; he could not gratify his avarice, for he could not sell his plunder +till Bolingbroke was dead; and even then, if the copy was left to another, +his fraud would be defeated, and if left to himself would be useless.<br> +<br> +Warburton therefore supposes, with great appearance of reason, that +the irregularity of his conduct proceeded wholly from his zeal for Bolingbroke, +who might perhaps have destroyed the pamphlet, which Pope thought it +his duty to preserve, even without its author’s approbation. +To this apology an answer was written in “A letter to the most +impudent man living.” He brought some reproach upon his +own memory by the petulant and contemptuous mention made in his will +of Mr. Allen and an affected repayment of his benefactions. Mrs. +Blount, as the known friend and favourite of Pope, had been invited +to the house of Allen, where she comported herself with such indecent +arrogance that she parted from Mrs. Allen in a state of irreconcilable +dislike, and the door was for ever barred against her. This exclusion +she resented with so much bitterness as to refuse any legacy from Pope +unless he left the world with a disavowal of obligation to Allen. +Having been long under her dominion, now tottering in the decline of +life, and unable to resist the violence of her temper, or perhaps, with +the prejudice of a lover, persuaded that she had suffered improper treatment, +he complied with her demand, and polluted his will with female resentment. +Allen accepted the legacy, which he gave to the hospital at Bath, observing +that Pope was always a bad accountant, and that if to £150 he +had put a cipher more he had come nearer to the truth.<br> +<br> +The person of Pope is well known not to have been formed by the nicest +model. He has, in his account of the “Little Club,” +compared himself to a spider, and by another is described as protuberant +behind and before. He is said to have been beautiful in his infancy, +but he was of a constitution originally feeble and weak; and, as bodies +of a tender frame are easily distorted, his deformity was probably in +part the effect of his application. His stature was so low, that +to bring him to a level with common tables, it was necessary to raise +his seat. But his face was not displeasing, and his eyes were +animated and vivid. By natural deformity, or accidental distortion, +his vital functions were so much disordered, that his life was “a +long disease.” His most frequent assailant was the headache, +which he used to relieve by inhaling the steam of coffee, which he very +frequently required.<br> +<br> +Most of what can be told concerning his petty peculiarities was communicated +by a female domestic of the Earl of Oxford, who knew him perhaps after +the middle of life. He was then so weak as to stand in perpetual +need of female attendance; extremely sensible of cold, so that he wore +a kind of fur doublet, under a shirt of a very coarse warm linen with +fine sleeves. When he rose, he was invested in bodice made of +stiff canvas, being scarcely able to hold himself erect till they were +laced, and he then put on a flannel waistcoat. One side was contracted. +His legs were so slender, that he enlarged their bulk with three pairs +of stockings, which were drawn on and off by the maid, for he was not +able to dress or undress himself, and neither went to bed nor rose without +help. His weakness made it very difficult for him to be clean. +His hair had fallen almost all away, and he used to dine sometimes with +Lord Oxford, privately, in a velvet cap. His dress of ceremony +was black, with a tie-wig, and a little sword. The indulgence +and accommodation which his sickness required, had taught him all the +unpleasing and unsocial qualities of a valetudinary man. He expected +that everything should give way to his ease or humour, as a child, whose +parents will not hear her cry, has an unresisted dominion in the nursery.<br> +<br> +<br> +“C’est que l’enfant toujours est homme,<br> +C’est que l’homme est toujours enfant.”<br> +<br> +<br> +When he wanted to sleep he “nodded in company,” and once +slumbered at his own table while the Prince of Wales was talking of +poetry.<br> +<br> +The reputation which his friendship gave procured him many invitations, +but he was a very troublesome inmate. He brought no servant, and +had so many wants, that a numerous attendance was scarcely able to supply +them. Wherever he was, he left no room for another, because he +exacted the attention, and employed the activity of the whole family. +His errands were so frequent and frivolous, that the footmen in time +avoided and neglected him, and the Earl of Oxford discharged some of +his servants for their resolute refusal of his messages. The maids, +when they had neglected their business, alleged that they had been employed +by Mr. Pope. One of his constant demands was of coffee in the +night, and to the woman that waited on him in his chamber he was very +burthensome. But he was careful to recompense her want of sleep, +and Lord Oxford’s servant declared, that in the house where her +business was to answer his call, she would not ask for wages. +He had another fault, easily incident to those who, suffering much pain, +think themselves entitled to what pleasures they can snatch. He +was too indulgent to his appetite: he loved meat highly seasoned and +of strong taste; and, at the intervals of the table, amused himself +with biscuits and dry conserves. If he sat down to a variety of +dishes, he would oppress his stomach with repletion; and though he seemed +angry when a dram was offered him, did not forbear to drink it. +His friends, who knew the avenues to his heart, pampered him with presents +of luxury, which he did not suffer to stand neglected. The death +of great men is not always proportioned to the lustre of their lives. +Hannibal, says Juvenal, did not perish by the javelin or the sword, +the slaughters of Cannæ were revenged by a ring. The death +of Pope was imputed by some of his friends to a silver saucepan, in +which it was his delight to eat potted lampreys. That he loved +too well to eat is certain; but that his sensuality shortened his life +will not be hastily concluded, when it is remembered that a conformation +so irregular lasted six-and-fifty years, notwithstanding such pertinacious +diligence of study and meditation. In all his intercourse with +mankind he had great delight in artifice, and endeavoured to attain +all his purposes by indirect and unsuspected methods. “He +hardly drank tea without a stratagem.” If at the house of +friends he wanted any accommodation, he was not willing to ask for it +in plain terms, but would mention it remotely as something convenient; +though when it was procured, he soon made it appear for whose sake it +had been recommended. Thus he teased Lord Orrery till he obtained +a screen. He practised his arts on such small occasions, that +Lady Bolingbroke used to say, in a French phrase, that “he played +the politician about cabbages and turnips.” His unjustifiable +impression of the “Patriot King,” as it can be attributed +to no particular motive, must have proceeded from his general habit +of secrecy and cunning; he caught an opportunity of a sly trick, and +pleased himself with the thought of outwitting Bolingbroke. In +familiar or convivial conversation, it does not appear that he excelled. +He may be said to have resembled Dryden, as being not one that was distinguished +by vivacity in company. It is remarkable that, so near his time, +so much should be known of what he has written, and so little of what +he has said: traditional memory retains no sallies of raillery, nor +sentences of observation: nothing either pointed or solid, either wise +or merry. One apophthegm only stands upon record. When an +objection, raised against his inscription for Shakespeare, was defended +by the authority of Patrick, he replied, <i>horresco referens, </i>that +he “would allow the publisher of a dictionary to know the meaning +of a single word, but not of two words put together.”<br> +<br> +He was fretful and easily displeased, and allowed himself to be capriciously +resentful. He would sometimes leave Lord Oxford silently, no one +could tell why, and was to be courted back by more letters and messages +than the footmen were willing to carry. The table was indeed infested +by Lady Mary Wortley, who was the friend of Lady Oxford, and who, knowing +his peevishness, could by no entreaties be restrained from contradicting +him, till their disputes were sharpened to such asperity, that one or +the other quitted the house. He sometimes condescended to be jocular +with servants or inferiors; but by no merriment, either of others or +his own, was he ever seen excited to laughter.<br> +<br> +Of his domestic character, frugality was a part eminently remarkable. +Having determined not to be dependent, he determined not to be in want, +and therefore wisely and magnanimously rejected all temptations to expense +unsuitable to his fortune. This general care must be universally +approved; but it sometimes appeared in petty artifices of parsimony, +such as the practice of writing his compositions on the back of letters, +as may be seen in the remaining copy of the “Iliad,” by +which perhaps in five years five shillings were saved; or in a niggardly +reception of his friends, and scantiness of entertainment, as, when +he had two guests in his house, he would set at supper a single pint +upon the table; and having himself taken two small glasses, would retire, +and say, “Gentlemen. I leave you to your wine.” +Yet he tells his friends that “he has a heart for all, a house +for all, and whatever they may think, a fortune for all.” +He sometimes, however, made a splendid dinner, and is said to have wanted +no part of the skill or elegance which such performances require. +That this magnificence should be often displayed, that obstinate prudence +with which he conducted his affairs would not permit; for his revenue, +certain and casual, amounted only to about eight hundred pounds a year, +of which, however, he declares himself able to assign one hundred to +charity. Of this fortune, which, as it arose from public approbation, +was very honourably obtained, his imagination seems to have been too +full: it would be hard to find a man so well entitled to notice by his +wit, that ever delighted so much in talking of his money. In his +Letters and in his poems, his garden and his grotto, his quincunx and +his vines, or some hints of his opulence, are always to be found. +The great topic of his ridicule is poverty; the crimes with which he +reproaches his antagonists are their debts, their habitation in the +Mint, and their want of a dinner. He seems to be of an opinion +not very uncommon in the world, that to want money is to want everything. +Next to the pleasure of contemplating his possessions, seems to be that +of enumerating the men of high rank with whom he was acquainted, and +whose notice he loudly proclaims not to have been obtained by any practices +of meanness or servility; a boast which was never denied to be true, +and to which very few poets have ever aspired. Pope never set +genius to sale; he never flattered those whom he did not love, nor praised +those whom he did not esteem. Savage, however, remarked that he +began a little to relax his dignity when he wrote a distich for “his +Highness’s dog.”<br> +<br> +His admiration of the great seems to have increased in the advance of +life. He passed over peers and statesmen to inscribe his “Iliad” +to Congreve, with a magnanimity of which the praise had been complete, +had his friend’s virtue been equal to his wit. Why he was +chosen for so great an honour, it is not now possible to know; there +is no trace in literary history of any particular intimacy between them. +The name of Congreve appears in the Letters among those of his other +friends, but without any observable distinction or consequence. +To his latter works, however, he took care to annex names dignified +with titles, but was not very happy in his choice; for, except Lord +Bathurst, none of his noble friends were such as that a good man would +wish to have his intimacy with them known to posterity; he can derive +little honour from the notice of Cobham, Burlington, or Bolingbroke.<br> +<br> +Of his social qualities, if an estimate be made from his Letters, an +opinion too favourable cannot easily be formed; they exhibit a perpetual +and unclouded effulgence of general benevolence, and particular fondness. +There is nothing but liberality, gratitude, constancy, and tenderness. +It has been so long said as to be commonly believed, that the true characters +of men may be found in their letters, and that he who writes to his +friend lays his heart open before him. But the truth is that such +were the simple friendships of the Golden Age, and are now the friendships +only of children. Very few can boast of hearts which they dare +lay open to themselves, and of which, by whatever accident exposed, +they do not shun a distinct and continued view; and, certainly, who +we hide from ourselves we do not show to our friend. There is, +indeed, no transaction which offers strange temptations to fallacy and +sophistication than epistolary intercourse. In the eagerness of +conversation the first emotions of the mind often burst out before they +are considered; in the tumult of business, interest and passion have +their genuine effect; but a friendly letter is a calm and deliberate +performance in the cool of leisure, in the stillness of solitude, and +surely no man sits down to depreciate by design his own character.<br> +<br> +Friendship has no tendency to secure veracity; for by whom can a man +so much wish to be thought better than he is, as by him whose kindness +he desires to gain or keep? Even in writing to the world there +is less constraint; the author is not confronted with his reader, and +takes his chance of approbation among the different dispositions of +mankind; but a letter is addressed to a single mind, of which the prejudices +and partialities are known; and must therefore please, if not by favouring +them, by forbearing to oppose them. To charge those favourable +representations, which men give of their own minds, with the guilt of +hypocritical falsehood, would show more severity than knowledge. +The writer commonly believes himself. Almost every man’s +thoughts, while they are general, are right; and most hearts are pure +while temptation is away. It is easy to awaken generous sentiments +in privacy; to despise death when there is no danger; to glow with benevolence +when there is nothing to be given. While such ideas are formed +they are felt; and self-love does not suspect the gleam of virtue to +be the meteor of fancy.<br> +<br> +If the Letters of Pope are considered merely as compositions, they seem +to be premeditated and artificial. It is one thing to write because +there is something which the mind wishes to discharge, and another to +solicit the imagination because ceremony or vanity requires something +to be written. Pope confesses his early Letters to be vitiated +with <i>affectation and ambition: </i>to know whether he disentangled +himself from these perverters of epistolary integrity, his book and +his life must be set in comparison. One of his favourite topics +is contempt of his own poetry. For this, if it had been real, +he would deserve no commendation; and in this he was certainly not sincere, +for his high value of himself was sufficiently observed; and of what +could he be proud but of his poetry? He writes, he says, when +“he has just nothing else to do;” yet Swift complains that +he was never at leisure for conversation, because he “had always +some poetical scheme in his head.” It was punctually required +that his writing-box should be set upon his bed before he rose; and +Lord Oxford’s domestic related that, in the dreadful winter of +Forty, she was called from her bed by him four times in one night, to +supply him with paper, lest he should lose a thought. He pretends +insensibility to censure and criticism, though it was observed by all +who knew him that every pamphlet disturbed his quiet, and that his extreme +irritability laid him open to perpetual vexation; but he wished to despise +his critics, and therefore hoped that he did despise them. As +he happened to live in two reigns when the court paid little attention +to poetry, he nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings, and proclaims +that “he never sees courts.” Yet a little regard shown +him by the Prince of Wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much +to say when he was asked by his Royal Highness, “How he could +love a prince while he disliked kings?”<br> +<br> +He very frequently professes contempt of the world, and represents himself +as looking on mankind, sometimes with gay indifference, as on emmets +of a hillock, below his serious attention; and sometimes with gloomy +indignation, as on monsters more worthy of hatred than pity. These +were dispositions apparently counterfeited. How could he despise +those whom he lived by pleasing, and on whose approbation his esteem +of himself was superstructed? Why should he hate those to whose +favour he owed his honour and his ease? Of things that terminate +in human life, the world is the proper judge: to despise its sentence, +if it were possible, is not just; and if it were just, is not possible. +Pope was far enough from this unreasonable temper; he was sufficiently +<i>a fool to fame</i>, and his fault was that he pretended to neglect +it. His levity and his sullenness were only in his letters; he +passed through common life, sometimes vexed, and sometimes pleased, +with the natural emotions of common men. His scorn of the great +is repeated too often to be real; no man thinks much of that which he +despises; and as falsehood is always in danger of inconsistency, he +makes it his boast at another time that he lives among them. It +is evident that his own importance swells often in his mind. He +is afraid of writing, lest the clerks of the post-office should know +his secrets; he has many enemies; he considers himself as surrounded +by universal jealousy: “After many deaths, and many dispersions, +two or three of us,” says he, “may still be brought together, +not to plot, but to divert ourselves, and the world too, if it pleases;” +and they can live together, and “show what friends wits may be, +in spite of all the fools in the world.” All this while +it was likely that the clerks did not know his hand; he certainly had +no more enemies than a public character like his inevitably excites; +and with what degree of friendship the wits might live, very few were +so much fools as ever to inquire. Some part of this pretended +discontent he learned from Swift, and expresses it, I think, most frequently +in his correspondence with him. Swift’s resentment was unreasonable, +but it was sincere; Pope’s was the mere mimicry of his friend, +a fictitious part which he began to play before it became him. +When he was only twenty-five years old, he related that “a glut +of study and retirement had thrown him on the world,” and that +there was danger lest “a glut of the world should throw him back +upon study and retirement.” To this Swift answered with +great propriety, that Pope had not yet acted or suffered enough in the +world to have become weary of it. And, indeed, it must have been +some very powerful reason that can drive back to solitude him who has +once enjoyed the pleasures of society.<br> +<br> +In the Letters both of Swift and Pope there appears such narrowness +of mind as makes them insensible of any excellence that has not some +affinity with their own, and confines their esteem and approbation to +so small a number, that whoever should form his opinion of their age +from their representation, would suppose them to have lived amidst ignorance +and barbarity, unable to find among their contemporaries either virtue +or intelligence, and persecuted by those that could not understand them.<br> +<br> +When Pope murmurs at the world, when he professes contempt of fame, +when he speaks of riches and poverty, of success and disappointment, +with negligent indifference, he certainly does not express his habitual +and settled resentments, but either wilfully disguises his own character, +or, what is more likely, invests himself with temporary qualities, and +sallies out in the colours of the present moment. His hopes and +fears, his joys and sorrows, acted strongly upon his mind, and if he +differed from others it was not by carelessness; he was irritable and +resentful; his malignity to Philips, whom he had first made ridiculous +and then hated for being angry continued too long. Of his vain +desire to make Bentley contemptible I never heard any adequate reason. +He was sometimes wanton in his attacks, and before Chandos, Lady Wortley, +and Hill, was mean in his retreat. The virtues which seem to have +had most of his affection were liberality and fidelity of friendship, +in which it does not appear that he was other than he describes himself. +His fortune did not suffer his character to be splendid and conspicuous, +but he assisted Dodsley with a hundred pounds that he might open a shop, +and of the subscription of forty pounds a year that he raised for Savage +twenty were paid by himself. He was accused of loving money, but +his love was eagerness to gain, not solicitude to keep it. In +the duties of friendship he was zealous and constant; his early maturity +of mind commonly united him with men older than himself, and therefore, +without attaining any considerable length of life, he saw many companions +of his youth sink into the grave; but it does not appear that he lost +a single friend by coldness or by injury; those who loved him once continued +their kindness. His ungrateful mention of Allen in his will was +the effect of his adherence to one whom he had known much longer, and +whom he naturally loved with greater fondness. His violation of +the trust reposed in him by Bolingbroke could have no motive inconsistent +with the warmest affection; he either thought the action so near to +indifferent that he forgot it, or so laudable that he expected his friend +to approve it. It was reported with such confidence as almost +to enforce belief, that in the papers entrusted to his executors was +found a defamatory Life of Swift, which he had prepared as an instrument +of vengeance, to be used if any provocation should be ever given. +About this I inquired of the Earl of Marchmont, who assured me that +no such piece was among his remains.<br> +<br> +The religion in which he lived and died was that of the Church of Rome, +to which, in his correspondence with Racine, he professes himself a +sincere adherent. That he was not scrupulously pious in some part +of his life is known by many idle and indecent applications of sentences +taken from the Scriptures, a mode of merriment which a good man dreads +for its profaneness, and a witty man disdains for its easiness and vulgarity. +But to whatever levities he has been betrayed, it does not appear that +his principles were ever corrupted, or that he ever lost his belief +of revelation. The positions which he transmitted from Bolingbroke +he seems not to have understood, and was pleased with an interpretation +that made them orthodox.<br> +<br> +A man of such exalted superiority and so little moderation would naturally +have all his delinquencies observed and aggravated; those who could +not deny that he was excellent would rejoice to find that he was not +perfect. Perhaps it may be imputed to the unwillingness with which +the same man is allowed to possess many advantages, that his learning +has been depreciated. He certainly was in his early life a man +of great literary curiosity, and when he wrote his “Essay on Criticism,” +had, for his age, a very wide acquaintance with books. When he +entered into the living world it seems to have happened to him, as to +many others, that he was less attentive to dead masters; he studied +in the academy of Paracelsus, and made the universe his favourite volume. +He gathered his notions fresh from reality, not from the copies of authors, +but the originals of Nature. Yet there is no reason to believe +that literature ever lost his esteem; he always professed to love reading, +and Dobson, who spent some time at his house translating his “Essay +on Man,” when I asked him what learning he found him to possess, +answered, “More than I expected.” His frequent references +to history, his allusions to various kinds of knowledge, and his images +selected from art and nature, with his observations on the operations +of the mind and the modes of life, show an intelligence perpetually +on the wing, excursive, vigorous, and diligent, eager to pursue knowledge, +and attentive to retain it. From this curiosity arose the desire +of travelling, to which he alludes in his verses to Jervas, and which, +though he never found an opportunity to gratify it, did not leave him +till his life declined.<br> +<br> +Of his intellectual character, the constituent and fundamental principle +was good sense, a prompt and intuitive perception of consonance and +propriety. He saw immediately of his own conceptions what was +to be chosen and what to be rejected, and, in the works of others, what +was to be shunned and what was to be copied. But good sense alone +is a sedate and quiescent quality, which manages its possessions well, +but does not increase them; it collects few materials for its own operations, +and preserves safety, but never gains supremacy. Pope had likewise +genius; a mind active, ambitious, and adventurous, always investigating, +always aspiring; in its widest searches still longing to go forward, +in its highest flights still wishing to be higher, always imagining +some thing greater than it knows, always endeavouring more than it can +do. To assist these powers he is said to have had great strength +and exactness of memory. That which he had heard or read was not +easily lost, and he had before him not only what his own meditations +suggested, but what he had found in other writers that might be accommodated +to his present purpose. These benefits of Nature he improved by +incessant and unwearied diligence; he had recourse to every source of +intelligence, and lost no opportunity of information; he consulted the +living as well as the dead; he read his compositions to his friends, +and was never content with mediocrity when excellence could be attained. +He considered poetry as the business of his life, and however he might +seem to lament his occupation he followed it with constancy; to make +verses was his first labour, and to mend them was his last. From +his attention to poetry he was never diverted. If conversation +offered anything that could be improved, he committed it to paper; if +a thought, or perhaps an expression, more happy than was common, rose +to his mind, he was careful to write it; an independent distich was +preserved for an opportunity of insertion, and some little fragments +have been found containing lines, or parts of lines, to be wrought upon +at some other time. He was one of those few whose labour is their +pleasure; he was never elevated to negligence nor wearied to impatience; +he never passed a fault unamended by indifference, nor quitted it by +despair. He laboured his works first to gain reputation, and afterwards +to keep it.<br> +<br> +Of composition there are different methods. Some employ at once +memory and invention, and, with little intermediate use of the pen, +form and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write their +productions only when, in their own opinion, they have completed them. +It is related of Virgil that his custom was to pour out a great number +of verses in the morning, and pass the day in retrenching exuberances +and correcting inaccuracies. The method of Pope, as may be collected +from his translation, was to write his first thoughts in his first words, +and gradually to amplify, decorate, rectify, and refine them. +With such faculties and such dispositions he excelled every other writer +in poetical prudence; he wrote in such a manner as might expose him +to few hazards. He used almost always the same fabric of verse, +and, indeed, by those few essays which he made of any other, he did +not enlarge his reputation. Of this uniformity the certain consequence +was readiness and dexterity. By perpetual practice language had, +in his mind, a systematical arrangement; having always the same use +for words, he had words so selected and combined as to be ready at his +call. This increase of facility he confessed himself to have perceived +in the progress of his translation. But what was yet of more importance, +his effusions were always voluntary, and his subjects chosen by himself. +His independence secured him from drudging at a task, and labouring +upon a barren topic; he never exchanged praise for money, nor opened +a shop of condolence or congratulation. His poems, therefore, +were scarcely ever temporary. He suffered coronations and royal +marriages to pass without a song, and derived no opportunities from +recent events, nor any popularity from the accidental disposition of +his readers. He was never reduced to the necessity of soliciting +the sun to shine upon a birthday, of calling the graces and virtues +to a wedding, or of saying what multitudes have said before him. +When he could produce nothing new he was at liberty to be silent.<br> +<br> +His publications were for the same reason never hasty. He is said +to have sent nothing to the press till it had lain two years under his +inspection: it is at least certain that he ventured nothing without +nice examination. He suffered the tumult of imagination to subside, +and the novelties of invention to grow familiar. He knew that +the mind is always enamoured of its own productions, and did not trust +his first fondness. He consulted his friends, and listened with +great willingness to criticism; and, what was of more importance, he +consulted himself, and let nothing pass against his own judgment. +He professed to have learned his poetry from Dryden, whom, whenever +an opportunity was presented, he praised through his whole life with +unvaried liberality; and perhaps his character may receive some illustration +if he be compared with his master.<br> +<br> +Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were not allotted +in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude of +Dryden’s mind was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his +poetical prejudices, and the rejection of unnatural thoughts and rugged +numbers. But Dryden never desired to apply all the judgment that +he had. He wrote, and professed to write, merely for the people; +and when he pleased others, he contented himself. He spent no +time in struggles to rouse latent powers; he never attempted to make +that better which was already good, nor often to mend what he must have +known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with very little +consideration; when occasion or necessity called upon him, he poured +out what the present moment happened to supply, and, when once it had +passed the press, ejected it from his mind; for, when he had no pecuniary +interest, he had no further solicitude.<br> +<br> +Pope was not content to satisfy; he desired to excel, and therefore +always endeavoured to do his best; he did not court the candour, but +dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from +others, he showed none to himself. He examined lines and words +with minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with +indefatigable diligence, till he had left nothing to be forgiven. +For this reason he kept his pieces very long in his hands, while he +considered and reconsidered them. The only poems which can be +supposed to have been written with such regard to the times as might +hasten their publication, were the two satires of “Thirty-eight;” +of which Dodsley told me that they were brought to him by the author, +that they might be fairly copied. “Almost every line,” +he said, “was then written twice over; I gave him a clean transcript, +which he sent some time afterwards to me for the press, with almost +every line written twice over a second time.” His declaration, +that his care for his works ceased at their publication, was not strictly +true. His parental attention never abandoned them; what he found +amiss in the first edition, he silently corrected in those that followed. +He appears to have revised the “Iliad,” and freed it from +some of its imperfections; and the “Essay on Criticism” +received many improvements after its first appearance. It will +seldom be found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, +or vigour. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden +certainly wanted the diligence of Pope.<br> +<br> +In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, whose +education was more scholastic, and who before he became an author had +been allowed more time for study, with better means of information. +His mind has a larger range, and he collects his images and illustrations +from a more extensive circumference of science. Dryden knew more +of man in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The +notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those +of Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowledge +of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope. Poetry was not +the sole praise of either; for both excelled likewise in prose; but +Pope did not borrow his prose from his predecessor. The style +of Dryden is capricious and varied; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. +Dryden observes the motions of his own mind; Pope constrains his mind +to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement +and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden’s +page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by +the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation; Pope’s is a velvet +lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by the roller.<br> +<br> +Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet; that quality without +which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that energy which collects, +combines, amplifies, and animates; the superiority must, with some hesitation, +be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred that of this poetical +vigour Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more; for every other +writer since Milton must give place to Pope; and even of Dryden it must +be said that, if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not better poems. +Dryden’s performances were always hasty, either excited by some +external occasion, or extorted by domestic necessity; he composed without +consideration, and published without correction. What his mind +could supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he sought, +and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled him +to condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate +all that study might produce or chance might supply. If the flights +of Dryden therefore are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. +If of Dryden’s fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope’s the +heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation, +and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, +and Pope with perpetual delight. This parallel will, I hope, when +it is well considered, be found just; and if the reader should suspect +me, as I suspect myself, of some partial fondness for the memory of +Dryden, let him not too hastily condemn me; for meditation and inquiry +may, perhaps, show him the reasonableness of my determination.<br> +<br> +The Works of Pope are now to be distinctly examined, not so much with +attention to slight faults or petty beauties, as to the general character +and effect of each performance.<br> +<br> +It seems natural for a young poet to initiate himself by pastorals, +which, not professing to imitate real life, require no experience; and, +exhibiting only the simple operation of unmingled passions, admit no +subtle reasoning or deep inquiry. Pope’s pastorals are not, +however, composed but with close thought; they have reference to the +times of the day, the seasons of the year, and the periods of human +life. The last, that which turns the attention upon age and death, +was the author’s favourite. To tell of disappointment and +misery, to thicken the darkness of futurity and perplex the labyrinth +of uncertainty, has been always a delicious employment of the poets. +His preference was probably just. I wish, however, that his fondness +had not overlooked a line in which the Zephyrs are made to lament in +silence. To charge these pastorals with wane of invention, is +to require what was never intended. The imitations are so ambitiously +frequent, that the writer evidently means rather to show his literature +than his wit. It is surely sufficient for an author of sixteen, +not only to be able to copy the poems of antiquity with judicious selection, +but to have obtained sufficient power of language, and skill in metre, +to exhibit a series of versification which had in English poetry no +precedent, nor has since had an imitation.<br> +<br> +The design of “Windsor Forest” is evidently derived from +“Cooper’s Hill,” with some attention to Waller’s +poem on “The Park;” but Pope cannot be denied to excel his +masters in variety and elegance, and the art of interchanging description, +narrative, and morality. The objection made by Dennis is the want +of plan, of a regular subordination of parts terminating in the principal +and original design. There is this want in most descriptive poems, +because as the scenes, which they must exhibit successively, are all +subsisting at the same time, the order in which they are shown must +by necessity be arbitrary, and more is not to be expected from the last +part than from the first. The attention, therefore, which cannot +be detained by suspense, must be excited by diversity, such as this +poem offers to its reader. But the desire of diversity may be +too much indulged; the parts of “Windsor Forest” which deserve +least praise are those which were added to enliven the stillness of +the scene - the appearance of Father Thames, and the transformation +of Lodona. Addison had in his “Campaign” derided the +rivers that “rise from their oozy beds” to tell stories +of heroes; and it is therefore strange that Pope should adopt a fiction +not only unnatural, but lately censured. The story of Lodona is +told with sweetness; but a new metamorphosis is a ready and puerile +expedient; nothing is easier than to tell how a flower was once a blooming +virgin, or a rock an obdurate tyrant.<br> +<br> +The “Temple of Fame” has, as Steele warmly declared, a “thousand +beauties.” Every part is splendid; there is great luxuriance +of ornaments; the original vision of Chaucer was never denied to be +much improved; the allegory is very skilfully continued, the imagery +is properly selected, and learnedly displayed; yet, with all this comprehension +of excellence, as its scene is laid in remote ages, and its sentiments, +if the concluding paragraph be excepted, have little relation to general +manners or common life, it never obtained much notice, but is turned +silently over, and seldom quoted or mentioned with either praise or +blame.<br> +<br> +That the “Messiah” excels the “Pollio” is no +great praise, if it be considered from what original the improvements +are derived.<br> +<br> +The “Verses on the Unfortunate Lady” have drawn much attention +by the illaudable singularity of treating suicide with respect; and +they must be allowed to be written in some parts with vigorous animation, +and in others with gentle tenderness; nor has Pope produced any poem +in which the sense predominates more over the diction. But the +tale is not skilfully told; it is not easy to discover the character +of either the lady or her guardian. History relates that she was +about to disparage herself by a marriage with an inferior; Pope praises +her for the dignity of ambition, and yet condemns the uncle to detestation +for his pride; the ambitious love of a niece may be opposed by the interest, +malice, or envy of an uncle, but never by his pride. On such an +occasion a poet may be allowed to be obscure, but inconsistency never +can be right.<br> +<br> +The “Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day” was undertaken at +the desire of Steele: in this the author is generally confessed to have +miscarried, yet he has miscarried only as compared with Dryden; for +he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden’s plan is better +chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the attention than +fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains of +real life, the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is +read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope hangs +upon the ear, and Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both the +odes want the essential constituent of metrical compositions, the stated +recurrence of settled numbers. It may be alleged that Pindar is +said by Horace to have written <i>numeris lege solutis; </i>but as no +such lax performances have been transmitted to us, the meaning of that +expression cannot be fixed; and perhaps the like return might properly +be made to a modern Pindarist as Mr. Cobb received from Bentley, who, +when he found his criticisms upon a Greek exercise, which Cobb had presented, +refuted one after another by Pindar’s authority, cried out at +last, “Pindar was a bold fellow, but thou art an impudent one.”<br> +<br> +If Pope’s ode be particularly inspected, it will be found that +the first stanza consists of sounds well chosen indeed, but only sounds. +The second consists of hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, +and perhaps without much difficulty to be as well expressed. In +the third, however, there are numbers, images, harmony, and rigour, +not unworthy the antagonist of Dryden. Had all been like this +- but every part cannot be the best. The next stanzas place and +detain us in the dark and dismal regions of mythology, where neither +hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow can be found: the poet, however, +faithfully attends us; we have all that can be performed by elegance +of diction or sweetness of versification; but what can form avail without +better matter? The last stanza recurs again to commonplaces. +The conclusion is too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may +be remarked that both end with the same fault; the comparison of each +is literal on one side and metaphorical on the other. Poets do +not always express their own thoughts: Pope, with all this labour in +the praise of music, was ignorant of its principles and insensible of +its effects.<br> +<br> +One of his greatest, though of his earliest works, is the “Essay +on Criticism,” which, if he had written nothing else, would have +placed him among the first critics and the first poets, as it exhibits +every mode of excellence that can embellish or dignify didactic composition, +selection of matter, novelty of arrangement, justness of precept, splendour +of illustration, and propriety of digression. I know not whether +it be pleasing to consider that he produced this piece at twenty, and +never afterwards excelled it: he that delights himself with observing +that such powers may be soon attained, cannot but grieve to think that +life was ever after at a stand.<br> +<br> +To mention the particular beauties of the essay would be unprofitably +tedious: but I cannot forbear to observe that the comparison of a student’s +progress in the sciences with the journey of a traveller in the Alps +is perhaps the best that English poetry can show. A simile, to +be perfect, must both illustrate and ennoble the subject; must show +it to the understanding in a clearer view, and display it to the fancy +with greater dignity; but either of these qualities may be sufficient +to recommend it. In didactic poetry, of which the great purpose +is instruction, a simile may be praised which illustrates, though it +does not ennoble; in heroics, that may be admitted which ennobles, though +it does not illustrate. That it may be complete, it is required +to exhibit, independently of its references, a pleasing image; for a +simile is said to be a short episode. To this antiquity was so +attentive, that circumstances were sometimes added, which, having no +parallels, served only to fill the imagination, and produced what Perrault +ludicrously called “comparisons with a long tail.” +In their similes the greatest writers have sometimes failed; the ship-race, +compared with the chariot-race, is neither illustrated nor aggrandised; +land and water make all the difference: when Apollo, running after Daphne, +is likened to a greyhound chasing a hare, there is nothing gained; the +ideas of pursuit and flight are too plain to be made plainer; and a +god and the daughter of a god are not represented much to their advantage +by a hare and dog. The simile of the Alps has no useless parts, +yet affords a striking picture by itself; it makes the foregoing position +better understood, and enables it to take faster hold on the attention; +it assists the apprehension and elevates the fancy. Let me likewise +dwell a little on the celebrated paragraph in which it is directed that +“the sound should seem an echo to the sense;” a precept +which Pope is allowed to have observed beyond any other English poet.<br> +<br> +This notion of representative metre, and the desire of discovering frequent +adaptations of the sound to the sense, have produced, in my opinion, +many wild conceits and imaginary beauties. All that can furnish +this representation are the sounds of the words considered singly and +the time in which they are pronounced. Every language has some +words framed to exhibit the noises which they express, as <i>thump, +rattle, growl, hiss</i>. These, however, are but few, and the +poet cannot make them more, nor can they be of any use but when sound +is to be mentioned. The time of pronunciation was in the dactylic +measures of the learned languages capable of considerable variety; but +that variety could be accommodated only to motion or duration, and different +degrees of motion were perhaps expressed by verses rapid or slow, without +much attention of the writer, when the image had full possession of +his fancy: but our language having little flexibility, our verses can +differ very little in their cadence. The fancied resemblances, +I fear, arise sometimes merely from the ambiguity of words; there is +supposed to be some relation between a <i>soft </i>line and <i>soft +</i>couch, or between <i>heard </i>syllables and <i>hard </i>fortune. +Motion, however, may be in some sort exemplified; and yet it may be +suspected that in such resemblances the mind often governs the ear, +and the sounds are estimated by their meaning. One of their most +successful attempts has been to describe the labour of Sisyphus:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“With many a weary step, and many a groan,<br> +Up a high hill he heaves a huge round stone;<br> +The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,<br> +Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Who does not perceive the stone to move slowly upward, and roll violently +back? But set the same numbers to another sense:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“While many a merry tale, and many a song,<br> +Cheered the rough road, we wished the rough road long.<br> +The rough road, then, returning in a round,<br> +Mocked our impatient steps, for all was fairy ground.”<br> +<br> +<br> +We have now surely lost much of the delay and much of the rapidity. +But, to show how little the greatest master of numbers can fix the principles +of representative harmony, it will be sufficient to remark that the +poet who tells us that -<br> +<br> +<br> +“When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw,<br> +The line too labours, and the words move slow:<br> +Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,<br> +Flies o’er th’ unbending corn, and skims along the main;”<br> +<br> +<br> +when he had enjoyed for about thirty years the praise of Camilla’s +lightness of foot, he tried another experiment upon <i>sound </i>and +<i>time, </i>and produced this memorable triplet:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to join<br> +The varying verse, the full resounding line,<br> +The long majestic march, and energy divine.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Here are the swiftness of the rapid race, and the march of slow-paced +majesty, exhibited by the same poet in the same sequence of syllables, +except that the exact prosodist will find the line of <i>swiftness </i>by +one time longer than that of <i>tardiness</i>. Beauties of this +kind are commonly fancied, and, when real, are technical and nugatory, +not to he rejected and not to be solicited.<br> +<br> +To the praises which have been accumulated on the “Rape of the +Look” by readers of every class, from the critic to the waiting-maid, +it is difficult to make any addition. Of that which is universally +allowed to be the most attractive of all ludicrous compositions, let +it rather be now inquired from what sources the power of pleasing is +derived.<br> +<br> +Dr. Warburton, who excelled in critical perspicacity, has remarked that +the preternatural agents are very happily adapted to the purposes of +the poem. The heathen deities can no longer gain attention; we +should have turned away from a contest between Venus and Diana. +The employment of allegorical persons always excites conviction of its +own absurdity; they may produce effects, but cannot conduct actions; +when the phantom is put in motion it dissolves; thus <i>Discord </i>may +raise a mutiny, but <i>Discord </i>cannot conduct a march nor besiege +a town. Pope brought in view a new race of beings, with powers +and passions proportionate to their operation. The Sylphs and +Gnomes act at the toilet and the tea-table what more terrific and more +powerful phantoms perform on the stormy ocean or the field of battle: +they give their proper help and do their proper mischief. Pope +is said, by an objector, not to have been the inventor of this petty +notion, a charge which might with more justice have been brought against +the author of the “Iliad,” who doubtless adopted the religious +system of his country; for what is there but the names of his agents +which Pope has not invented? Has he not assigned them characters +and operations never heard of before? Has he not, at least, given +them their first poetical existence? If this is not sufficient +to denominate his work original, nothing original ever can be written.<br> +<br> +In this work are exhibited in a very high degree the two most engaging +powers of an author. New things are made familiar, and familiar +things are made new. A race of aërial people never heard +of before is presented to us in a manner so clear and easy that the +reader seeks for no further information, but immediately mingles with +his new acquaintance, adopts their interests, and attends their pursuits, +loves a Sylph, and detests a Gnome. That familiar things are made +new every paragraph will prove. The subject of the poem is an +event below the common incidents of common life; nothing real is introduced +that is not seen so often as to be no longer regarded; yet the whole +detail of a female day is here brought before us, invested with so much +art of decoration that, though nothing is disguised, everything is striking, +and we feel all the appetite of curiosity for that from which we have +a thousand times turned fastidiously away.<br> +<br> +The purpose of the poet is, as he tells us, to laugh at “the little +unguarded follies of the female sex.” It is therefore without +justice that Dennis charges the “Rape of the Lock” with +the want of a moral, and for that reason sets it below the “Lutrin,” +which exposes the pride and discord of the clergy. Perhaps neither +Pope nor Boileau has made the world much better than he found it; but +if they had both succeeded, it were easy to tell who would have deserved +most from public gratitude. The freaks, and humours, and spleen, +and vanity of women as they embroil families in discord, and fill houses +with disquiet, do more to obstruct the happiness of life in a year than +the ambition of the clergy in many centuries. It has been well +observed that the misery of man proceeds not from any single crush of +overwhelming evil, but from small vexatious continually repeated. +It is remarked by Dennis, likewise, that the machinery is superfluous; +that, by all the bustle of preternatural operation, the main event is +neither hastened nor retarded. To this charge an efficacious answer +is not easily made. The Sylphs cannot be said to help or oppose; +and it must be allowed to imply some want of art that their power has +not been sufficiently intermingled with the action. Other parts +may likewise be charged with want of connection - the game at <i>ombre +</i>might be spared; but if the lady had lost her hair while she was +intent upon her cards it might have been inferred that those who are +too fond of play will be in danger of neglecting more important interests. +Those, perhaps, are faults, but what are such faults to so much excellence!<br> +<br> +The Epistle of “Eloise to Abelard” is one of the most happy +productions of human wit; the subject is so judiciously chosen that +it would be difficult in turning over the annals of the world to find +another which so many circumstances concur to recommend. We regularly +interest ourselves most in the fortune of those who most deserve our +notice. Abelard and Eloise were conspicuous in their days for +eminence of merit. The heart naturally loves truth. The +adventures and misfortunes of this illustrious pair are known from undisputed +history. Their fate does not leave the mind in hopeless dejection, +for they both found quiet and consolation in retirement and piety. +So new and so affecting is their story that it supersedes invention, +and imagination ranges at full liberty without straggling into scenes +of fable. The story thus skilfully adopted has been diligently +improved. Pope has left nothing behind him which seems more the +effect of studious perseverance and laborious revisal. Here is +particularly observable the <i>curiosa felicitas, </i>a fruitful soil +and careful cultivation. Here is no crudeness of sense nor asperity +of language. The sources from which sentiments which have so much +vigour and efficacy have been drawn are shown to be the mystic writers +by the learned author of the “Essays on the Life and Writings +of Pope,” a book which teaches how the brow of Criticism may be +smoothed, and how she may be enabled, with all her severity, to attract +and to delight.<br> +<br> +The train of my disquisition has now conducted me to that poetical wonder, +the translation of the “Iliad,” a performance which no age +or nation can pretend to equal. To the Greeks translation was +almost unknown; it was totally unknown to the inhabitants of Greece. +They had no recourse to the barbarians for poetical beauties, but sought +for everything in Homer, where, indeed, there is but little which they +might not find. The Italians have been very diligent translators, +but I can hear of no version, unless, perhaps, Anguillara’s “Ovid” +may be excepted, which is read with eagerness. The “Iliad” +of Salvini every reader may discover to be punctiliously exact; but +it seems to be the work of a linguist skilfully pedantic; and his countrymen, +the proper judges of its power to please, reject it with disgust. +Their predecessors, the Romans, have left some specimens of translation +behind them, and that employment must have had some credit in which +Tully and Germanicus engaged; but unless we suppose, what is perhaps +true, that the plays of Terence were versions of Menander, nothing translated +seems ever to have risen to high reputation. The French in the +meridian hour of their learning were very laudably industrious to enrich +their own language with the wisdom of the ancients; but found themselves +reduced by whatever necessity to turn the Greek and Roman poetry into +prose. Whoever could read an author could translate him. +From such rivals little can be feared.<br> +<br> +The chief help of Pope in this audacious undertaking was drawn from +the versions of Dryden. Virgil had borrowed much of his imagery +from Homer; and part of the debt was now paid by his translator. +Pope searched the pages of Dryden for happy combinations of heroic diction, +but it will not be denied that he added much to what he found. +He cultivated our language with so much diligence and art, that he has +left in his “Homer” a treasure of poetical elegances to +posterity. His version may be said to have tuned the English tongue; +for since its appearance no writer, however deficient in other powers, +has wanted melody. Such a series of lines, so elaborately corrected, +and so sweetly modulated, took possession of the public ear; the vulgar +was enamoured of the poem, and the learned wondered at the translation. +But in the most general applause discordant voices will always be heard. +It has been objected by some who wish to be numbered among the sons +of learning that Pope’s version of Homer is not Homerical; that +it exhibits no resemblance of the original and characteristic manner +of the Father of Poetry, as it wants his artless grandeur, his unaffected +majesty. This cannot be totally denied; but it must be remembered +that <i>necessitas quod cogit defendit; </i>that may be lawfully done +which cannot be forborne. Time and place will always enforce regard. +In estimating this translation, consideration must be had of the nature +of our language, the form of our metre, and, above all, of the change +which two thousand years have made in the modes of life and the habits +of thought. Virgil wrote in a language of the same general fabric +with that of Homer, in verses of the same measure, and in an age nearer +to Homer’s time by eighteen hundred years; yet he found even then +the state of the world so much altered, and the demand for elegance +so much increased, that mere nature would be endured no longer; and, +perhaps, in the multitude of borrowed passages, very few can be shown +which he has not embellished.<br> +<br> +There is a time when nations, emerging from barbarity, and falling into +regular subordination, gain leisure to grow wise, and feel the shame +of ignorance and the craving pain of unsatisfied curiosity. To +this hunger of the mind plain sense is grateful; that which fills the +void removes uneasiness, and to be free from pain for a while is pleasure; +but repletion generates fastidiousness; a saturated intellect soon becomes +luxurious, and knowledge finds no willing reception till it is recommended +by artificial diction. Thus it will be found, in the progress +of learning, that in all nations the first writers are simple, and that +every age improves in elegance. One refinement always makes way +for another; and what was expedient to Virgil was necessary to Pope. +I suppose many readers of the English “Iliad,” when they +have been touched with some unexpected beauty of the lighter kind, have +tried to enjoy it in the original, where, alas! it was not to be found. +Homer doubtless owes to his translator many Ovidian graces not exactly +suitable to his character; but to have added can be no great crime, +if nothing be taken away. Elegance is surely to be desired, if +it be not gained at the expense of dignity. A hero would wish +to be loved, as well as to be reverenced. To a thousand cavils +one answer is sufficient; the purpose of a writer is to be read, and +the criticism which would destroy the power of pleasing must be blown +aside. Pope wrote for his own age and his own nation: he knew +that it was necessary to colour the images and point the sentiments +of his author; he therefore made him graceful, but lost him some of +his sublimity. The copious notes with which the version is accompanied, +and by which it is recommended to many readers, though they were undoubtedly +written to swell the volumes, ought not to pass without praise: commentaries +which attract the reader by the pleasure of perusal have not often appeared; +the notes of others are read to clear difficulties; those of Pope to +vary entertainment. It has, however, been objected, with sufficient +reason, that there is in the commentary too much of unseasonable levity +and affected gaiety; that too many appeals are made to the ladies, and +the ease which is so carefully preserved is sometimes the ease of a +trifler. Every art has its terms, and every kind of instruction +its proper style; the gravity of common critics may be tedious, but +is less despicable than childish merriment.<br> +<br> +Of the “Odyssey” nothing remains to be observed; the same +general praise may be given to both translations, and a particular examination +of either would require a large volume. The notes were written +by Broome, who endeavoured, not unsuccessfully, to imitate his master.<br> +<br> +Of the “Dunciad” the hint is confessedly taken from Dryden’s +“Mac Flecknoe;” but the plan is so enlarged and diversified +as justly to claim the praise of an original, and affords the best specimen +that has yet appeared of personal satire ludicrously pompous. +That the design was moral, whatever the author might tell either his +readers or himself, I am not convinced. The first motive was the +desire of revenging the contempt with which Theobald had treated his +Shakspeare, and regaining the honour which he had lost, by crushing +his opponent. Theobald was not of bulk enough to fill a poem, +and therefore it was necessary to find other enemies with other names, +at whose expense he might divert the public.<br> +<br> +In this design there was petulance and malignity enough; but I cannot +think it very criminal. An author places himself uncalled before +the tribunal of criticism, and solicits fame at the hazard of disgrace. +Dulness or deformity are not culpable in themselves, but may be very +justly reproached when they pretend to the honour of wit or the influence +of beauty. If bad writers were to pass without reprehension, what +should restrain them? <i>impune diem consumpserit ingens Telephus</i>; +and upon bad writers only will censure have much effect. The satire +which brought Theobald and Moore into contempt dropped impotent from +Bentley, like the javelin of Priam. All truth is valuable, and +satirical criticism may be considered as useful when it rectifies error +and improves judgment; he that refines the public taste is a public +benefactor. The beauties of this poem are well known; its chief +fault is the grossness of its images. Pope and Swift had an unnatural +delight in ideas physically impure, such as every other tongue utters +with unwillingness, and of which every ear shrinks from the mention. +But even this fault, offensive as it is, may be forgiven for the excellence +of other passages; such as the formation and dissolution of Moore, the +account of the Traveller, the misfortune of the Florist, and the crowded +thoughts and stately numbers which dignify the concluding paragraph. +The alterations which have been made in the “Dunciad,” not +always for the better, require that it should be published, as in the +present collection, with all its variations.<br> +<br> +The “Essay on Man” was a work of great labour and long consideration, +but certainly not the happiest of Pope’s performances. The +subject is perhaps not very proper for poetry; and the poet was not +sufficiently master of his subject; metaphysical morality was to him +a new study; he was proud of his acquisitions, and, supposing himself +master of great secrets, was in haste to teach what he had not learned. +Thus he tells us, in the first Epistle, that from the nature of the +Supreme Being may be deduced an order of beings such as mankind, because +infinite excellence can do only what is best. He finds out that +these beings must be “somewhere;” and that “all the +question is, whether man be in a wrong place.” Surely if, +according to the poet’s Leibnitzian reasoning, we may infer that +man ought to be, only because he is, we may allow that his place is +the right place, because he has it. Supreme Wisdom is not less +infallible in disposing than in creating. But what is meant by +<i>somewhere, </i>and <i>place</i>, and <i>wrong piece, </i>it had been +in vain to ask Pope, who probably had never asked himself.<br> +<br> +Having exalted himself into the chair of wisdom, he tells us much that +every man knows, and much that he does not know himself; that we see +but little, and that the order of the universe is beyond our comprehension; +an opinion not very uncommon; and that there is a chain of subordinate +beings “from infinite to nothing,” of which himself and +his readers are equally ignorant. But he gives us one comfort, +which without his help he supposes unattainable, in the position “that +though we are fools, yet God is wise.”<br> +<br> +This essay affords an egregious instance of the predominance of genius, +the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive powers of eloquence. +Never was penury of knowledge and vulgarity of sentiment so happily +disguised. The reader feels his mind full, though he learns nothing; +and, when he meets it in its new array, no longer knows the talk of +his mother and his nurse. When these wonder-working sounds sink +into sense, and the doctrine of the essay, disrobed of its ornaments, +is left to the powers of its naked excellence, what shall we discover? +That we are, in comparison with our Creator, very weak and ignorant; +that we do not uphold the chain of existence; and that we could not +make one another with more skill than we are made. We may learn +yet more that the arts of human life were copied from the instinctive +operations of other animals; that if the world be made for man, it may +be said that man was made for geese. To these profound principles +of natural knowledge are added some moral instructions equally new; +that self-interest, well understood, will produce social concord; that +men are mutual gainers by mutual benefits; that evil is sometimes balanced +by good; that human advantages are unstable and fallacious, of uncertain +duration and doubtful effect; that our true honour is not to have a +great part, but to act it well; that virtue only is our own; and that +happiness is always in our power. Surely a man of no very comprehensive +search may venture to say that he has heard all this before; but it +was never till now recommended by such a blaze of embellishments, or +such sweetness of melody. The vigorous contraction of some thoughts, +the luxuriant amplification of others, the incidental illustrations, +and sometimes the dignity, sometimes the softness of the verses, enchain +philosophy, suspend criticism, and oppress judgment by overpowering +pleasure. This is true of many paragraphs; yet, if I had undertaken +to exemplify Pope’s felicity of composition before a rigid critic, +I should not select the “Essay on Man;” for it contains +more lines unsuccessfully laboured, more harshness of diction, and more +thoughts imperfectly expressed, more levity without elegance, and more +heaviness without strength, than will easily be found in all his other +works.<br> +<br> +The “Characters of Men and Women” are the product of diligent +speculation upon human life; much labour has been bestowed upon them, +and Pope very seldom laboured in vain. That his excellence may +be properly estimated, I recommend a comparison of his “Characters +of Women” with Boileau’s Satire; it will then be seen with +how much more perspicacity female nature is investigated, and female +excellence selected; and he surely is no mean writer to whom Boileau +should be found inferior. The “Characters of Men,” +however, are written with more, if not with deeper, thought, and exhibit +many passages exquisitely beautiful. The “Gem and the Flower” +will not easily be equalled. In the women’s part are some +defects; the character of Atossa is not so neatly finished as that of +Clodio, and some of the female characters may be found, perhaps, more +frequently among men; what is said of Philomede was true of Prior.<br> +<br> +In the Epistles to Lord Bathurst and Lord Burlington, Dr. Warburton +has endeavoured to find a train of thought which was never in the writer’s +head, and, to support his hypothesis, has printed that first which was +published last. In one the most valuable passage is perhaps the +Elegy on Good Sense, and the other the end of the Duke of Buckingham.<br> +<br> +The Epistle to Arbuthnot, now arbitrarily called the “Prologue +to the Satires,” is a performance consisting, as it seems, of +many fragments wrought into one design, which, by this union of scattered +beauties, contains more striking paragraphs than could probably have +been brought together into an occasional work. As there is no +stronger motive to exertion than self-defence, no part has more elegance, +spirit, or dignity, than the poet’s vindication of his own character. +The meanest passage is the satire upon Sporus.<br> +<br> +Of the two poems which derived their names from the year, and which +are called the “Epilogue to the Satires,” it was very justly +remarked by Savage that the second was in the whole more strongly conceived, +and more equally supported, but that it had no single passages equal +to the contention in the first for the dignity of Vice and the celebration +of the triumph of Corruption.<br> +<br> +The “Imitations of Horace” seem to have been written as +relaxations of his genius. This employment became his favourite +by its facility; the plan was ready to his hand, and nothing was required +but to accommodate as he could the sentiments of an old author to recent +facts or familiar images; but what is easy is seldom excellent. +Such imitations cannot give pleasure to common readers; the man of learning +may be sometimes surprised and delighted by an unexpected parallel, +but the comparison requires knowledge of the original, which will likewise +often detect strained applications. Between Roman images and English +manners there will be an irreconcilable dissimilitude, and the works +will be generally uncouth and parti-coloured, neither original nor translated, +neither ancient nor modern.<br> +<br> +Pope had, in proportions very nicely adjusted to each other, all the +qualities that constitute genius. He had <i>intention, </i>by +which new trains of events are formed and new scenes of imagery displayed, +as in the “Rape of the Lock,” and by which extrinsic and +adventitious embellishments and illustrations are connected with a known +subject, as in the “Essay on Criticism.” He had <i>imagination, +</i>which strongly impresses on the writer’s mind, and enables +him to convey to the reader the various forms of nature, incidents of +life, and energies of passion, as in his “Eloisa,” “Windsor +Forest,” and “Ethic Epistles.” He had <i>judgment, +</i>which selects from life or Nature what the present purpose requires, +and by separating the essence of things from its concomitants, often +makes the representation more powerful than the reality; and he had +colours of language always before him, ready to decorate his matter +with every grace of elegant expression, as when he accommodates his +diction to the wonderful multiplicity of Homer’s sentiments and +descriptions.<br> +<br> +Poetical expression includes sound as well as meaning. “Music,” +says Dryden, “is inarticulate poetry;” among the excellences +of Pope, therefore, must be mentioned the melody of his metre. +By perusing the works of Dryden, he discovered the most perfect fabric +of English verse, and habituated himself to that only which he found +the best; in consequence of which restraint his poetry has been censured +as too uniformly musical, and as glutting the ear with unvaried sweetness. +I suspect this objection to be the cant of those who judge by principles +rather than perception, and who would even themselves have less pleasure +in his works if he had tried to relieve attention by studied discords, +or affected to break his lines and vary his pauses. But though +he was thus careful of his versification, he did not oppress his powers +with superfluous rigour. He seems to have thought with Boileau +that the practice of writing might be refined till the difficulty should +overbalance the advantage. The construction of the language is +not always strictly grammatical; with those rhymes which prescription +had conjoined he contented himself, without regard to Swift’s +remonstrances, though there was no striking consonance, nor was he very +careful to vary his terminations or to refuse admission, at a small +distance, to the same rhymes. To Swift’s edict for the exclusion +of alexandrines and triplets he paid little regard; he admitted them, +but, in the opinion of Fenton, too rarely; he uses them more liberally +in his translation than his poems. He has a few double rhymes, +and always, I think, unsuccessfully, except once in the “Rape +of the Lock.” Expletives he very early ejected from his +verses, but he now and then admits an epithet rather commodious than +important. Each of the six first lines of the “Iliad” +might lose two syllables with very little diminution of the meaning, +and sometimes, after all his art and labour, one verse seems to be made +for the sake of another. In his latter productions the diction +is sometimes vitiated by French idioms, with which Bolingbroke had perhaps +infected him.<br> +<br> +I have been told that the couplet by which he declared his own ear to +be most gratified was this:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“Lo, where Mæotis sleeps, and hardly flows<br> +The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.”<br> +<br> +<br> +But the reason of this preference I cannot discover.<br> +<br> +It is remarked by Watts that there is scarcely a happy combination of +words, or a phrase poetically elegant in the English language, which +Pope has not inserted into his version of Homer. How he obtained +possession of so many beauties of speech it were desirable to know. +That he gleaned from authors, obscure as well as eminent, what he thought +brilliant or useful, and preserved it all in a regular collection, is +not unlikely. When, in his last years, Hall’s “Satires” +were shown him, he wished that he had seen them sooner. New sentiments +and new images others may produce; but to attempt any further improvement +of versification will be dangerous. Art and diligence have now +done their best, and what shall be added will be the effort of tedious +toil and needless curiosity. After all this, it is surely superfluous +to answer the question that has once been asked, Whether Pope was a +poet, otherwise than by asking in return, If Pope be not a poet, where +is poetry to be found? To circumscribe poetry by a definition +will only show the narrowness of the definer, though a definition which +shall exclude Pope will not easily be made. Let us look round +upon the present time and back upon the past; let us inquire to whom +the voice of mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions +be examined, and their claims stated, and the pretensions of Pope will +be no more disputed. Had he given the world only his version, +the name of poet must have been allowed him: if the writer of the “Iliad” +were to class his successors he would assign a very high place to his +translator, without requiring any other evidence of genius.<br> +<br> +The following letter, of which the original is in the hands of Lord +Hardwicke, was communicated to me by the kindness of Mr. Jodrell:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“<i>To </i>MR. BRIDGES, <i>at the Bishop of London’s, at +Fulham</i>.<br> +<br> +“SIR, - The favour of your letter, with your remarks, can never +be enough acknowledged, and the speed with which you discharged so troublesome +a task doubles the obligation.<br> +<br> +“I must own you have pleased me very much by the commendations +so ill bestowed upon me; but I assure you, much more by the frankness +of your censure, which I ought to take the more kindly of the two, as +it is more advantage to a scribbler to be improved in his judgment than +to be smoothed in his vanity. The greater part of those deviations +from the Greek which you have observed I was led into by Chapman and +Hobbes; who are, it seems, as much celebrated for their knowledge of +the original as they are decried for<i> </i>the badness of their translations. +Chapman pretends to have restored the genuine sense of the author from +the mistakes of all former explainers in several hundred places; and +the Cambridge editors of the large Homer, in Greek and Latin, attributed +so much to Hobbes, that they confess they have corrected the old Latin +interpretation very often by his version. For my part, I generally +took the author’s meaning to be as you have explained it; yet +their authority, joined to the knowledge of my own imperfectness in +the language, overruled me. However, sir, you may be confident, +I think you in the right, because you happen to be of my opinion; for +men (let them say what they will) never approve any other’s sense +but as it squares with their own. But you have made me much more +proud of and positive in my judgment, since it is strengthened by yours. +I think your criticisms which regard the expression very just, and shall +make my profit of them; to give you some proof that I am in earnest, +I will alter three verses on your bare objection, though I have Mr. +Dryden’s example for each of them. And this, I hope, you +will account no small piece of obedience, from one who values the authority +of one true poet above that of twenty critics or commentators. +But, though I speak thus of commentators, I will continue to read carefully +all I can procure, to make up that way for my own want of critical understanding +in the original beauties of Homer. Though the greatest of them +are certainly those of invention and design, which are not at all confined +to the language; for the distinguishing excellences of Homer are (by +the consent of the best critics of all nations), first in the manners +(which include all the speeches, as being no other than the representations +of each person’s manners by his words): and then in that rapture +and fire, which carries you away with him, with that wonderful force, +that no man who has a true poetical spirit is master of himself while +he reads him. Homer makes you interested and concerned before +you are aware, all at once, where Virgil does it by soft degrees. +This, I believe, is what a translator of Homer ought principally to +imitate; and it is very hard for any translator to come up to it, because +the chief reason why all translations fall short of their originals +is, that the very constraint they are obliged to renders them heavy +and dispirited.<br> +<br> +“The great beauty of Homer’s language, as I take it, consists +in that noble simplicity which runs through all his works (and yet his +diction, contrary to what one would imagine consistent with simplicity, +is at the same time very copious). I don’t know how I have +run into this pedantry in a letter, but I find I have said too much, +as well as spoken too inconsiderately; what farther thoughts I have +upon this subject I shall be glad to communicate to you (for my own +improvement) when we meet, which is a happiness I very earnestly desire, +as I do likewise some opportunity of proving how much I think myself +obliged to your friendship, and how truly I am, sir,<br> +<br> +“Your most faithful humble servant,<br> +<br> +“A. POPE.”<br> +<br> +<br> +The criticism upon Pope’s Epitaphs, which was printed in “The +Universal Visitor,” is placed here, being too minute and particular +to be inserted in the Life.<br> +<br> +Every art is best taught by example. Nothing contributes more +to the cultivation of propriety than remarks on the works of those who +have most excelled. I shall therefore endeavour at this <i>visit</i> +to entertain the young students in poetry with an examination of Pope’s +Epitaphs.<br> +<br> +To define an epitaph is useless; every one knows that it is an inscription +on a tomb. An epitaph, therefore, implies no particular character +of writing, but may be composed in verse or prose. It is, indeed, +commonly panegyrical, because we are seldom distinguished with a stone +but by our friends; but it has no rule to restrain or mollify it except +this, that it ought not to be longer than common beholders may be expected +to have leisure and patience to peruse.<br> +<br> +<br> +<i>On </i>CHARLES <i>Earl of </i>DORSET, <i>in the church of Wythyham +in Sussex.<br> +<br> + </i>Dorset, the grace of courts, the Muse’s +pride,<br> +Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died.<br> +The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great,<br> +Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state;<br> +Yet soft in nature, though severe his lay,<br> +His anger moral, and his wisdom gay.<br> +Blest satirist! who touched the means so true,<br> +As showed Vice had his hate and pity too.<br> +Blest courtier! who could king and country please,<br> +Yet sacred kept his friendship and his ease.<br> +Blest peer! his great forefathers’ every grace<br> +Reflecting, and reflected on his race;<br> +Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine,<br> +And patriots still, or pests, deck the line.<br> +<br> +<br> +The first distich of this epitaph contains a kind of information which +few would want, that the man for whom the tomb was erected <i>died</i>. +There are indeed some qualities worthy of the praise ascribed to the +dead, but none that were likely to exempt him from the lot of man, or +incline us much to wonder that he should die. What is meant by +“judge of nature” is not easy to say. Nature is not +the object of human judgment; for it is in vain to judge where we cannot +alter. If by nature is meant what is commonly called <i>nature +</i>by the critics, a just representation of things really existing, +and actions really performed, nature cannot be properly opposed to <i>art; +</i>nature being, in this sense, only the best effect of <i>art.<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>The scourge of pride -<br> +<br> +<br> +Of this couplet the second line is not what is intended, an illustration +of the former. <i>Pride </i>in the <i>Great, </i>is indeed well +enough connected with knaves in state, though <i>knaves </i>is a word +rather too ludicrous and light; but the mention of <i>sanctified </i>pride +will not lead the thoughts to <i>fops in learning, </i>but rather to +some species of tyranny or oppression, something more gloomy and more +formidable than foppery.<br> +<br> +<br> +Yet soft his nature -<br> +<br> +<br> +This is a high compliment, but was not first bestowed on Dorset by Pope. +The next verse is extremely beautiful.<br> +<br> +<br> +Blest satirist! -<br> +<br> +<br> +In this distich is another line of which Pope was not the author. +I do not mean to blame these imitations with much harshness; in long +performances they are scarcely to be avoided, and in shorter they may +be indulged, because the train of the composition may naturally involve +them, or the scantiness of the subject allow little choice. However, +what is borrowed is not to be enjoyed as our own, and it is the business +of critical justice to give every bird of the Muses his proper feather.<br> +<br> +<br> +Blest courtier! -<br> +<br> +<br> +Whether a courtier can properly be commended for keeping his <i>ease +sacred, </i>may perhaps be disputable. To please king and country +without sacrificing friendship to any change of times was a very uncommon +instance of prudence or felicity, and deserved to be kept separate from +so poor a commendation as care of his ease. I wish our poets would +attend a little more accurately to the use of the word <i>sacred, </i>which +surely should never be applied in a serious composition, but where some +reference may be made to a higher Being, or where some duty is exacted +or implied. A man may keep his friendship sacred, because promises +of friendship are very awful ties; but methinks he cannot, but in a +burlesque sense, be said to keep his ease <i>sacred.<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>Blest peer! -<br> +<br> +<br> +The blessing ascribed to the <i>peer </i>has no connection with his +peerage; they might happen to any other man whose posterity were likely +to be regarded.<br> +<br> +I know not whether this epitaph be worthy either of the writer or the +man entombed.<br> +<br> +<br> +II.<br> +<br> +<i>On Sir </i>WILLIAM TRUMBULL, <i>one of the principal Secretaries +of State to King </i>WILLIAM III., <i>who, having resigned his place, +died in his retirement at Easthamstead, in Berkshire, 1716.<br> +<br> +<br> + </i>A pleasing form, a firm, yet cautious mind,<br> +Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resigned;<br> +Honour unchanged, a principle profest.<br> +Fixed to one side, but moderate to the rest;<br> +An honest courtier, yet a patriot too,<br> +Just to his prince, and to his country true;<br> +Filled with the sense of age, the fire of youth,<br> +A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth;<br> +A generous faith, from superstition free;<br> +A love to peace, and hate of tyranny;<br> +Such this man was; who new from earth removed<br> +At length enjoys that liberty he loved.<br> +<br> +<br> +In this epitaph, as in many others, there appears at the first view +a fault which I think scarcely any beauty can compensate. The +name is omitted. The end of an epitaph is to convey some account +of the dead; and to what purpose is anything told of him whose name +is concealed? An epitaph, and a history of a nameless hero, are +equally absurd, since the virtues and qualities so recounted in either +are scattered at the mercy of fortune to be appropriated by guess. +The name, it is true, may be read upon the stone; but what obligation +has it to the poet, whose verses wander over the earth and leave their +subject behind them, and who is forced, like an unskilful painter, to +make his purpose known by adventitious help? This epitaph is wholly +without elevation, and contains nothing striking or particular; but +the poet is not to be blamed for the defect of his subject. He +said perhaps the best that could be said. There are, however, +some defects which were not made necessary by the character in which +he was employed. There is no opposition between an <i>honest courtier +</i>and a <i>patriot; </i>for an <i>honest, courtier </i>cannot but +be a <i>patriot</i>. It was unsuitable to the nicety required +in short compositions to close his verse with the word <i>too; </i>every +rhyme should be a word of emphasis: nor can this rule be safely neglected, +except where the length of the poem makes slight inaccuracies excusable, +or allows room for beauties sufficient to overpower the effects of petty +faults.<br> +<br> +At the beginning of the seventh line the word <i>filled </i>is weak +and prosaic, having no particular adaptation to any of the words that +follow it. The thought in the last line is impertinent, having +no connection with the foregoing character, nor with the condition of +the man described. Had the epitaph been written on the poor conspirator +who died lately in prison, after a confinement of more than forty years, +without any crime proved against him, the sentiment had been just and +pathetical; but why should Trumbull be congratulated upon his liberty +who had never known restraint?<br> +<br> +<br> +III.<br> +<br> +<i>On the Hon. </i>SIMON HARCOURT, <i>only son of the Lord Chancellor +</i>HARCOURT, <i>at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire, 1720.<br> +<br> +<br> + </i>To this sad shrine, whoe’er thou art, draw +near,<br> +Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear;<br> +Who ne’er knew joy, but friendship might divide,<br> +Or gave his father grief but when he died.<br> + How vain is reason, eloquence how weak!<br> +If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak.<br> +Oh let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone,<br> +And with a father’s sorrows mix his own!<br> +<br> +<br> +This epitaph is principally remarkable for the artful introduction of +the name, which is inserted with a peculiar felicity, to which chance +must concur with genius, which no man can hope to attain twice, and +which cannot be copied but with servile imitation. I cannot but +wish that, of this inscription, the two last lines had been omitted, +as they take away from the energy what they do not add to the sense.<br> +<br> +<br> +IV.<br> +<br> +<i>On </i>JAMES CRAGGS, <i>Esq., in Westminster Abbey.<br> +<br> +</i>JACOBVS CRAGS,<br> +REGI MAGNAE BRITANNIAE A SECRETIS<br> +ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBVS,<br> +PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPVLI AMOR ET DELICIAE:<br> +VIXIT TITLIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR<br> +ANNOS HEV PAVCOS, XXXV.<br> +OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX.<br> +<br> + Statesman, yet friend to truth; of soul sincere,<br> +In action faithful, and in honour clear!<br> +Who broke no premise, served no private end,<br> +Who gained no title, and who lost no friend;<br> +Ennobled by himself, by all approved,<br> +Praised, wept, and honoured by the Muse he loved.<br> +<br> +<br> +The lines on Craggs were not originally intended for an epitaph; and +therefore some faults are to be imputed to the violence with which they +are torn from the poems that first contained them. We may, however, +observe some defects. There is a redundancy of words in the first +couplet: it is superfluous to tell of him, who was <i>sincere, true, +</i>and <i>faithful, </i>that he was <i>in honour clear</i>. There +seems to be an opposition intended in the fourth line, which is not +very obvious: where is the relation between the two positions, that +he <i>gained no title </i>and <i>lest no friend</i>?<br> +<br> +It may be proper here to remark the absurdity of joining in the same +inscription Latin and English or verse and prose. If either language +be preferable to the other, let that only be used; for no reason can +be given why part of the information should be given in one tongue, +and part in another on a tomb, more than in any other place, or any +other occasion; and to tell all that can be conveniently told in verse, +and then to call in the help of prose, has always the appearance of +a very artless expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such +an epitaph resembles the conversation of a foreigner, who tells part +of his meaning by words, and conveys part by signs.<br> +<br> +<br> +V.<br> +<br> +<i>Intended for Mr. </i>ROWE, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust,<br> +And sacred, place by Dryden’s awful dust;<br> +Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,<br> +To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes.<br> +Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!<br> +Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest;<br> +One grateful women to thy fame supplies<br> +What a whole thankless land to his denies.<br> +<br> +<br> +Of this inscription the chief fault is that it belongs less to Rowe, +for whom it was written, than to Dryden, who was buried near him; and +indeed gives very little information concerning either.<br> +<br> +To wish <i>peace to thy shade </i>is too mythological to be admitted +into a Christian temple: the ancient worship has infected almost all +our other compositions, and might therefore be contented to spare our +epitaphs. Let fiction, at least, cease with life, and let us be +serious over the grave.<br> +<br> +<br> +VI.<br> +<br> +<i>On Mrs. </i>CORBET, <i>who died of a Cancer in her Breast.<br> +<br> +<br> + </i>Here rests a woman, good without pretence,<br> +Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense;<br> +No conquest she, but o’er herself, desired;<br> +No arts essayed, but not to be admired.<br> +Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,<br> +Convinced that Virtue only is our own.<br> +So unaffected, so composed a mind,<br> +So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined,<br> +Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried;<br> +The saint sustained it, but the woman died.<br> +<br> +<br> +I have always considered this as the most valuable of all Pope’s +epitaphs; the subject of it is a character not discriminated by any +shining or eminent peculiarities; yet that which really makes, though +not the splendour, the felicity of life, and that which every wise man +will choose for his final and lasting companion in the languor of age, +in the quiet of privacy, when he departs weary and disgusted from the +ostentatious, the volatile, and the vain. Of such a character, +which the dull overlook and the gay despise, it was fit that the value +should be made known and the dignity established. Domestic virtue, +as it is exerted without great occasions, or conspicuous consequences, +in an even unnoted tenor, required the genius of Pope to display it +in such a manner as might attract regard and enforce reverence. +Who can forbear to lament that this amiable woman has no name in the +verses? If the particular lines of this inscription be examined, +it will appear less faulty than the rest. There is scarce one +line taken from commonplaces, unless it be that in which <i>only Virtue +</i>is said to be <i>our own</i>. I once heard a lady of great +beauty and excellence object to the fourth line that it contained an +unnatural and incredible panegyric. Of this let the ladies judge.<br> +<br> +<br> +VII.<br> +<br> +<i>On the Monument of the Hon</i>. ROBERT DIGBY, <i>and of his Sister +</i>MARY, <i>erected by their Father the Lord </i>DIGBY <i>in the church +of Sherborne in Dorsetshire, </i>1727<br> +<br> +<br> + Go! fair example of untainted youth,<br> +Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth:<br> +Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate,<br> +Good without noise, without pretension great<br> +Just of thy word, in every thought sincere,<br> +Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:<br> +Of softest manners, unaffected mind,<br> +Lover of peace, and friend of human kind:<br> +Go, live! for heaven’s eternal year is thine,<br> +Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine.<br> + And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom.<br> +Pensive hast followed to the silent tomb,<br> +Steered the same course to the same quiet shore,<br> +Not parted long, and now to part no more!<br> +Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known!<br> +Go, where to love and to enjoy are one!<br> + Yet take these tears, Mortality’s relief,<br> +And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief:<br> +These little rites a stone, a verse receive.<br> +’Tis all a father, all a friend can give!<br> +<br> +<br> +This epitaph contains of the brother only a general indiscriminate character, +and of the sister tells nothing but that she died. The difficulty +in writing epitaphs is to give a particular and appropriate praise. +This, however, is not always to be performed, whatever be the diligence +or ability of the writer; for the greater part of mankind <i>have no +character at all, </i>have little that distinguishes them from others, +equally good or bad, and therefore nothing can be said of them which +may not be applied with equal propriety to a thousand more. It +is indeed no great panegyric that there is enclosed in this tomb one +who was born in one year, and died in another; yet many useful and amiable +lives have been spent which yet leave little materials for any other +memorial. These are however not the proper subjects of poetry; +and whenever friendship, or any other motive, obliges a poet to write +on such subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in generalities, +and utters the same praises over different tombs.<br> +<br> +The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more apparent than +by remarking how often Pope has, in the few epitaphs which he composed, +found it necessary to borrow from himself. The fourteen epitaphs +which he has written comprise about a hundred and forty lines, in which +there are more repetitions than will easily be found in all the rest +of his works. In the eight lines which make the character of Digby +there is scarce any thought or word which may not be found in the other +epitaphs. The ninth line, which is far the strongest and most +elegant, is borrowed from Dryden. The conclusion is the same with +that on Harcourt, but is here more elegant and better connected.<br> +<br> +<br> +VIII.<br> +<br> +<i>On Sir </i>GODFREY KNELLER, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>, 1723.<br> +<br> +<br> + Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master, taught,<br> +Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures thought;<br> +Now for two ages, having snatched from fate<br> +Whate’er was beauteous, or whate’er was great,<br> +Lies crowned with Princes, honours, Poets, lays,<br> +Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.<br> + Living, great Nature feared he might outvie<br> +Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.<br> +<br> +<br> +Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, the third +is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word crowned not being applicable +to the honours or the lays, and the fourth is not only borrowed from +the epitaph on Raphael, but of a very harsh construction.<br> +<br> +<br> +IX.<br> +<br> +<i>On General </i>HENRY WITHERS, <i>in Westminster Abbey</i>, 1729.<br> +<br> +<br> + Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,<br> +Thy country’s friend, but more of human kind.<br> +O born to arms! O worth in youth approved!<br> +O soft humanity in age beloved!<br> +For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear,<br> +And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere<br> + Withers, adieu! yet not will thee remove<br> +Thy martial spirit, or thy social love!<br> +Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,<br> +Still leave some ancient virtues to our age:<br> +Nor let us say (those English glories gone)<br> +The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.<br> +<br> +<br> +The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of commonplaces, though +somewhat diversified by mingled qualities, and the peculiarity of a +profession. The second couplet is abrupt, general, and unpleasing; +exclamation seldom succeeds in our language; and, I think, it may be +observed that the particle O! used at the beginning of a sentence, always +offends. The third couplet is more happy; the value expressed +for him, by different sorts of men, raises him to esteem; there is yet +something of the common cant of superficial satirists, who suppose that +the insincerity of a courtier destroys all his sensations, and that +he is equally a dissembler to the living and the dead. At the +third couplet I should wish the epitaph to close, but that I should +be unwilling to lose the two next lines, which yet are dearly bought +if they cannot be retained without the four that follow them.<br> +<br> +<br> +X.<br> +<br> +<i>On </i>Mr. ELIJAH FENTON, <i>at Easthamstead in Berkshire</i>, 1730.<br> +<br> + This modest stone, what few vain marbles can,<br> +May truly say, Here lies an honest man:<br> +A poet, blest beyond the poet’s fate,<br> +Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great:<br> +Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease,<br> +Content with science in the vale of peace.<br> +Calmly he looked on either life, and here<br> +Saw nothing to regret or there to fear;<br> +From Nature’s temperate feast rose satisfied,<br> +Thanked Heaven that he lived, and that he died.<br> +<br> +<br> +The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from Crashaw. The +four next lines contain a species of praise peculiar, original, and +just. Here, therefore, the inscription should have ended, the +latter part containing nothing but what is common to every man who is +wise and good. The character of Fenton was so amiable, that I +cannot forbear to wish for some poet or biographer to display it more +fully for the advantage of posterity. If he did not stand in the +first rank of genius, he may claim a place in the second; and, whatever +criticism may object to his writings, censure could find very little +to blame in his life.<br> +<br> +<br> +XI.<br> +<br> +<i>On Mr. </i>GAY, <i>in Westminster Abbey, </i>1732.<br> +<br> + Of manners gentle, of affections mild;<br> +In wit, a muse; simplicity, a child:<br> +With native humour tempering virtuous rage,<br> +Formed to delight at once and lash the age:<br> +Above temptation, in a low estate,<br> +And uncorrupted, ev’n among the Great:<br> +A safe companion and an easy friend,<br> +Unbiased through life, lamented in thy end,<br> +These are thy honours! not that here thy bust<br> +Is mixed with heroes, or with kings thy dust;<br> +But that the worthy and the Good shall say,<br> +Striking their pensive bosoms - Here lies GAY.<br> +<br> +<br> +As Gay was the favourite of our author this epitaph was probably written +with an uncommon degree of attention, yet it is not more successfully +executed than the rest, for it will not always happen that the success +of a poet is proportionate to his labour. The same observation +may be extended to all works of imagination, which are often influenced +by causes wholly out of the performer’s power, by hints of which +he perceives not the origin, by sudden elevations of mind which he cannot +produce in himself, and which sometimes rise when he expects them least. +The two parts of the first line are only echoes of each other; <i>gentle +manners </i>and <i>mild affections, </i>if they mean anything, must +mean the same.<br> +<br> +That Gay was a <i>man in wit </i>is a very frigid commendation; to have +the wit of a man is not much for a poet. The <i>wit of man </i>and +the <i>simplicity of a child </i>make a poor and vulgar contrast, and +raise no ideas of excellence, either intellectual or moral.<br> +<br> +In the next couplet <i>rage </i>is less properly introduced after the +mention of <i>mildness </i>and <i>gentleness, </i>which are made the +constituents of his character; for a man so <i>mild </i>and <i>gentle +</i>to <i>temper </i>his <i>rage </i>was not difficult. The next +line is inharmonious in its sound, and mean in its conception; the opposition +is obvious, and the word <i>lash </i>used absolutely, and without any +modification, is gross and improper. To be <i>above temptation +</i>in poverty and <i>free from corruption among the Great </i>is indeed +such a peculiarity as deserved notice. But to be a <i>safe companion +</i>is a praise merely negative, arising not from possession of virtue +but the absence of vice, and that one of the most odious.<br> +<br> +As little can be added to his character by asserting that he was <i>lamented +in his end</i>. Every man that dies is, at least by the writer +of his epitaph, supposed to be lamented, and therefore this general +lamentation does no honour to Gay.<br> +<br> +The first eight lines have no grammar; the adjectives are without any +substantive, and the epithets without a subject. The thought in +the last line, that Gay is buried in the bosoms of the <i>worthy </i>and +<i>good, </i>who are distinguished only to lengthen the line, is so +dark that few understand it, and so harsh, when it is explained, that +still fewer approve.<br> +<br> +<br> +XII.<br> +<br> +<i>Intended for Sir </i>ISAAC NEWTON, <i>in Westminster Abbey.<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>ISAACUS NEWTONIUS:<br> +Quem Immortalem<br> +Testantur, <i>Tempus, Natura, Cœlum:<br> +</i>Mortalem hoc marmor fatetur.<br> +Nature, and Nature’s laws, lay hid in night:<br> +God said, <i>Let Newton be</i>! And all was light.<br> +<br> +<br> +On this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be very few. +Why part should be Latin and part English it is not easy to discover. +In the Latin the opposition of <i>Immortalis </i>and <i>Mortalis </i>is +a mere sound, or a mere quibble; he is not <i>immortal </i>in any sense +contrary to that in which he is <i>mortal. </i>In the verses the +thought is obvious, and the words <i>night </i>and <i>light </i>are +too nearly allied.<br> +<br> +<br> +XIII.<br> +<br> +<br> +<i>On </i>EDMUND <i>Duke of </i>BUCKINGHAM, <i>who died in the 19th +Year of his Age, </i>1735.<br> +<br> +<br> + If modest youth, with cool reflection crowned,<br> +And every opening virtue blooming round,<br> +Could save a parent’s justest pride from fate,<br> +Or add one patriot to a sinking state;<br> +This weeping marble had not asked thy tear,<br> +Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!<br> +The living virtue now had shone approved,<br> +The senate heard him, and his country loved.<br> +Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame,<br> +Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:<br> +In whom a race, for courage famed and art,<br> +Ends in the milder merit of the heart;<br> +And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given,<br> +Pays the last tribute of a saint to heaven.<br> +<br> +<br> +This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest, but I know not for what +reason. To <i>crown </i>with <i>reflection </i>is surely a mode +of speech approaching to nonsense. <i>Opening virtues blooming +round </i>is something like tautology; the six following lines are poor +and prosaic. <i>Art </i>is in another couplet used for <i>arts, +</i>that a rhyme may be had to <i>heart</i>. The six last lines +are the best, but not excellent.<br> +<br> +The rest of his sepulchral performances hardly deserve the notice of +criticism. The contemptible dialogue between He and She should +have been suppressed for the author’s sake.<br> +<br> +In his last epitaph on himself, in which he attempts to be jocular upon +one of the few things that make wise men serious, he confounds the living +man with the dead:<br> +<br> +<br> +“Under this stone, or under this sill,<br> +Or under this turf, &c.”<br> +<br> +<br> +When a man is once buried, the question, under what he is buried, is +easily decided. He forgot that though he wrote the epitaph in +a state of uncertainty, yet it could not be laid over him till his grave +was made. Such is the folly of wit when it is ill employed.<br> +<br> +The world has but little new, even this wretchedness seems to have been +borrowed from the following tuneless lines:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“Ludovici Areosti humantur ossa<br> +Sub hoc marmore, vel sub hac humo, seu<br> +Sub quicquid voluit benignus hæres<br> +Siv hærede benignior comes, seu<br> +Opportunius incidens Viator:<br> +Nam scire haud potuit futura, sed nec<br> +Tanti erat vacuum sibi cadaver<br> +Ut utnam cuperet parere vivens,<br> +Vivens ista tamen sibi paravit.<br> +Quæ inscribi voluit suo sepulchro<br> +Olim siquod haberetis sepulchrum.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Surely Ariosto did not venture to expect that his trifle would have +ever had such an illustrious imitator.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named lvpc10h.htm or lvpc10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, lvpc11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, lvpc10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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