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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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