POPE,
AND HIS MISCELLANEOUS QUARRELS.
Pope adopted a system of literary politics—collected with extraordinary care everything relative to his Quarrels—no politician ever studied to obtain his purposes by more oblique directions and intricate stratagems—some of his manœuvres—his systematic hostility not practised with impunity—his claim to his own works contested—Cibber’s facetious description of Pope’s feelings, and Welsted’s elegant satire on his genius—Dennis’s account of Pope’s Introduction to him—his political prudence further discovered in the Collection of all the Pieces relative to the Dunciad, in which he employed Savage—the Theobaldians and the Popeians; an attack by a Theobaldian—The Dunciad ingeniously defended, for the grossness of its imagery, and its reproach of the poverty of the authors, supposed by Pope himself, with some curious specimens of literary personalities—the Literary Quarrel between Aaron Hill and Pope distinguished for its romantic cast—a Narrative of the extraordinary transactions respecting the publication of Pope’s Letters; an example of Stratagem and Conspiracy, illustrative of his character.
Pope has proudly perpetuated the history of his Literary Quarrels; and he appears to have been among those authors, surely not forming the majority, who have delighted in, or have not been averse to provoke, hostility. He has registered the titles of every book, even to a single paper, or a copy of verses, in which their authors had committed treason against his poetical sovereignty.[192] His ambition seemed gratified 279 in heaping these trophies to his genius, while his meaner passions could compile one of the most voluminous of the scandalous chronicles of literature. We are mortified on discovering so fine a genius in the text humbling itself through all the depravity of a commentary full of spleen, and not without the fictions of satire. The unhappy influence his Literary Quarrels had on this great poet’s life remains to be traced. 280 He adopted a system of literary politics abounding with stratagems, conspiracies, manœuvres, and factions.
Pope’s literary quarrels were the wars of his poetical ambition, more perhaps than of the petulance and strong irritability of his character. They were some of the artifices he adopted from the peculiarity of his situation.
Thrown out of the active classes of society from a variety of causes sufficiently known,[193] concentrating his passions into a solitary one, his retired life was passed in the contemplation of his own literary greatness. Reviewing the past, and anticipating the future, he felt he was creating a new era in our literature, an event which does not always occur in a century: but eager to secure present celebrity, with the victory obtained in the open field, he combined the intrigues of the cabinet: thus, while he was exerting great means, he practised little artifices. No politician studied to obtain his purposes by more oblique directions, or with more intricate stratagems; and Pope was at once the lion and the fox of Machiavel. A book might be written on the Stratagems of Literature, as Frontinus has composed one on War, and among its subtilest heroes we might place this great poet.
To keep his name alive before the public was one of his early plans. When he published his “Essay on Criticism,” anonymously, the young and impatient poet was mortified with the inertion of public curiosity: he was almost in despair.[194] Twice, perhaps oftener, Pope attacked Pope;[195] and 281 he frequently concealed himself under the names of others, for some particular design. Not to point out his dark familiar “Scriblerus,” always at hand for all purposes, he made use of the names of several of his friends. When he employed Savage in “a collection of all the pieces, in verse and prose, published on occasion of the Dunciad,” he subscribed his name to an admirable dedication to Lord Middlesex, where he minutely relates the whole history of the Dunciad, “and the weekly clubs held to consult of hostilities against the author;” and, for an express introduction to that work, he used the name of Cleland, to which is added a note, expressing surprise that the world did not believe that Cleland was the writer![196] 282 Wanting a pretext for the publication of his letters, he delighted Curll by conveying to him some printed surreptitious copies, who soon discovered that it was but a fairy treasure which he could not grasp; and Pope, in his own defence, had soon ready the authentic edition.[197] Some lady observed that Pope “hardly drank tea without a stratagem!” The female genius easily detects its own peculiar faculty, when it is exercised with inferior delicacy.
But his systematic hostility did not proceed with equal impunity: in this perpetual war with dulness, he discovered that every one he called a dunce was not so; nor did he find the dunces themselves less inconvenient to him; for many successfully substituted, for their deficiencies in better qualities, the lie that lasts long enough to vex a man; and the insolence that does not fear him: they attacked him at all points, and not always in the spirit of legitimate warfare.[198] They filled up his asterisks, and accused him of treason. They asserted that the panegyrical verses prefixed to his works (an obsolete mode of recommendation, which Pope condescended to practise), were his own composition, and to which he had affixed the names of some dead or some unknown writers. They 283 published lists of all whom Pope had attacked; placing at the head, “God Almighty; the King;” descending to the “lords and gentlemen.”[199] A few suspected his skill in Greek; but every hound yelped in the halloo against his Homer.[200] Yet the more extraordinary circumstance was, their hardy disputes with Pope respecting his claim to his own works, and the difficulty he more than once found to establish his rights. Sometimes they divided public opinion by even indicating the 284 real authors; and witnesses from White’s and St. James’s were ready to be produced. Among these literary coteries, several of Pope’s productions, in their anonymous, and even in their MS. state, had been appropriated by several pseudo authors; and when Pope called for restitution, he seemed to be claiming nothing less than their lives. One of these gentlemen had enjoyed a very fair reputation for more than two years on the “Memoirs of a Parish-Clerk;” another, on “The Messiah!” and there were many other vague claims. All this was vexatious; but not so much as the ridiculous attitude in which Pope was sometimes placed by his enraged adversaries.[201] He must have found himself in a more perilous situation when he hired a brawny champion, or borrowed the generous courage of some military friend.[202] To all these 285 troubles we may add, that Pope has called down on himself more lasting vengeance; and the good sense of Theobald, the furious but often acute remarks of Dennis; the good-humoured yet keen remonstrance of Cibber; the silver shaft, tipped with venom, sent from the injured but revengeful Lady Mary; and many a random shot, that often struck him, inflicted on him many a sleepless night.[203] The younger Richardson has recorded the personal sufferings of Pope when, one day, in taking up Cibber’s letter, while his face was writhing with agony, he feebly declared that “these things were as good as hartshorn to him;” but he appeared at that 286 moment rather to want a little. And it is probably true, what Cibber facetiously says of Pope, in his second letter:—“Everybody tells me that I have made you as uneasy as a rat in a hot kettle, for a twelvemonth together.”[204]
Pope was pursued through life by the insatiable vengeance of Dennis. The young poet, who had got introduced to him, among his first literary acquaintances, could not fail, when the occasion presented itself, of ridiculing this uncouth son of Aristotle. The blow was given in the character of Appius, in the “Art of Criticism;” and it is known Appius was instantaneously recognised by the fierce shriek of the agonised critic himself. From that moment Dennis resolved to write down every work of Pope’s. How dangerous to offend certain tempers, verging on madness![205] Dennis, too, called on every one to join him in the common cause; and once he retaliated on Pope in his own way. Accused by Pope of being the writer of an account of himself, in Jacob’s “Lives of the Poets,” Dennis procured a letter from Jacob, which he published, and in which it appears that Pope’s own character in this collection, if not written by him, was by him very carefully corrected on the proof-sheet; so that he stood in the same ridiculous attitude into which he had thrown Dennis, as his own trumpeter. Dennis, whose brutal energy 287 remained unsubdued, was a rhinoceros of a critic, shelled up against the arrows of wit. This monster of criticism awed the poet; and Dennis proved to be a Python, whom the golden shaft of Apollo could not pierce.
The political prudence of Pope was further discovered in the “Collection of all the Pieces relative to the Dunciad,” on which he employed Savage: these exemplified the justness of the satire, or defended it from all attacks. The precursor of the Dunciad was a single chapter in “The Bathos; or, the Art of Sinking in Poetry;” where the humorous satirist discovers an analogy between flying-fishes, parrots, tortoises, &c., and certain writers, whose names are designated by initial letters. In this unlucky alphabet of dunces, not one of them but was applied to some writer of the day; and the loud clamours these excited could not be appeased by the simplicity of our poet’s declaration, that the letters were placed at random: and while his oil could not smooth so turbulent a sea, every one swore to the flying-fish or the tortoise, as he had described them. It was still more serious when the Dunciad appeared. Of that class of authors who depended for a wretched existence on their wages, several were completely ruined, for no purchasers were to be found for the works of some authors, after they had been inscribed in the chronicle of our provoking and inimitable satirist.[206]
It is in this collection by Savage I find the writer’s admirable satire on the class of literary prostitutes. It is entitled “An Author to be Let, by Iscariot Hackney.” It has been ably commended by Johnson in his “Life of Savage,” and on his recommendation Thomas Davies inserted it in his “Collection of Fugitive Pieces;” but such is the careless curiosity of modern re-publishers, that often, in preserving a decayed body, they are apt to drop a limb: this was the case with Davies; for he has dropped the preface, far more exquisite than the work itself. A morsel of such poignant relish betrays the hand of the master who snatched the pen for a moment.
This preface defends Pope from the two great objections justly raised at the time against the Dunciad: one is, the grossness and filthiness of its imagery; and the other, its reproachful allusions to the poverty of the authors.
The indelicacies of the Dunciad are thus wittily apologised for:—
“They are suitable to the subject; a subject composed, for the most part, of authors whose writings are the refuse of 289 wit, and who in life are the very excrement of Nature. Mr. Pope has, too, used dung; but he disposes that dung in such a manner that it becomes rich manure, from which he raises a variety of fine flowers. He deals in rags; but like an artist, who commits them to a paper-mill, and brings them out useful sheets. The chemist extracts a fine cordial from the most nauseous of all dung; and Mr. Pope has drawn a sweet poetical spirit from the most offensive and unpoetical objects of the creation—unpoetical, though eternal writers of poetry.”
The reflections on the poverty of its heroes are thus ingeniously defended:—“Poverty, not proceeding from folly, but which may be owing to virtue, sets a man in an amiable light; but when our wants are of our own seeking, and prove the motive of every ill action (for the poverty of bad authors has always a bad heart for its companion), is it not a vice, and properly the subject of satire?” The preface then proceeds to show how “all these said writers might have been good mechanics.” He illustrates his principles with a most ungracious account of several of his contemporaries. I shall give a specimen of what I consider as the polished sarcasm and caustic humour of Pope, on some favourite subjects.
“Mr. Thomas Cooke.—His enemies confess him not without merit. To do the man justice, he might have made a tolerable figure as a Tailor. ’Twere too presumptuous to affirm he could have been a master in any profession; but, dull as I allow him, he would not have been despicable for a third or a fourth hand journeyman. Then had his wants have been avoided; for, he would at least have learnt to cut his coat according to his cloth.
“Why would not Mr. Theobald continue an attorney? Is not Word-catching more serviceable in splitting a cause, than explaining a fine poet?
“When Mrs. Haywood ceased to be a strolling-actress, why might not the lady (though once a theatrical queen) have subsisted by turning washerwoman? Has not the fall of greatness been a frequent distress in all ages? She might have caught a beautiful bubble, as it arose from the suds of her tub, blown it in air, seen it glitter, and then break! Even in this low condition, she had played with a bubble; and what more is the vanity of human greatness?
“Had it not been an honester and more decent livelihood for Mr. Norton (Daniel De Foe’s son of love by a lady who 290 vended oysters) to have dealt in a fish-market, than to be dealing out the dialects of Billingsgate in the Flying-post?
“Had it not been more laudable for Mr. Roome, the son of an undertaker, to have borne a link and a mourning-staff, in the long procession of a funeral—or even been more decent in him to have sung psalms, according to education, in an Anabaptist meeting, than to have been altering the Jovial Crew, or Merry Beggars, into a wicked imitation of the Beggar’s Opera?”
This satire seems too exquisite for the touch of Savage, and is quite in the spirit of the author of the Dunciad. There is, in Ruffhead’s “Life of Pope,” a work to which Warburton contributed all his care, a passage which could only have been written by Warburton. The strength and coarseness of the imagery could never have been produced by the dull and feeble intellect of Ruffhead: it is the opinion, therefore, of Warburton himself, on the Dunciad. “The good purpose intended by this satire was, to the herd in general, of less efficacy than our author hoped; for scribblers have not the common sense of other vermin, who usually abstain from mischief, when they see any of their kind gibbeted or nailed up, as terrible examples.”—Warburton employed the same strong image in one of his threats.
One of Pope’s Literary Quarrels must be distinguished for its romantic cast.
In the Treatise on the Bathos, the initial letters of the bad writers occasioned many heartburns; and, among others, Aaron Hill suspected he was marked out by the letters A. H. This gave rise to a large correspondence between Hill and Pope. Hill, who was a very amiable man, was infinitely too susceptible of criticism; and Pope, who seems to have had a personal regard for him, injured those nice feelings as little as possible. Hill had published a panegyrical poem on Peter the Great, under the title of “The Northern Star;” and the bookseller had conveyed to him a criticism of Pope’s, of which Hill publicly acknowledged he mistook the meaning. When the Treatise of “The Bathos” appeared, Pope insisted he had again mistaken the initials A. H.—Hill gently attacked Pope in “a paper of very pretty verses,” as Pope calls them. When the Dunciad appeared, Hill is said “to have published pieces, in his youth, bordering upon the bombast.” This was as light a stroke as could be inflicted; and which Pope, with great good-humour, tells Hill, might be equally 291 applied to himself; for he always acknowledged, that when a boy, he had written an Epic poem of that description; would often quote absurd verses from it, for the diversion of his friends; and actually inserted some of the most extravagant ones in the very Treatise on “The Bathos.” Poor Hill, however, was of the most sickly delicacy, and produced “The Caveat,” another gentle rebuke, where Pope is represented as “sneakingly to approve, and want the worth to cherish or befriend men of merit.” In the course of this correspondence, Hill seems to have projected the utmost stretch of his innocent malice; for he told Pope, that he had almost finished “An Essay on Propriety and Impropriety in Design, Thought, and Expression, illustrated by examples in both kinds, from the writings of Mr. Pope;” but he offers, if this intended work should create the least pain to Mr. Pope, he was willing, with all his heart, to have it run thus:—“An Essay on Propriety and Impropriety, &c., illustrated by Examples of the first, from the writings of Mr. Pope, and of the rest, from those of the author.”—To the romantic generosity of this extraordinary proposal, Pope replied, “I acknowledge your generous offer, to give examples of imperfections rather out of your own works than mine: I consent, with all my heart, to your confining them to mine, for two reasons: the one, that I fear your sensibility that way is greater than my own: the other is a better; namely, that I intend to correct the faults you find, if they are such as I expect from Mr. Hill’s cool judgment.”[207]
Where, in literary history, can be found the parallel of such an offer of self-immolation? This was a literary quarrel like that of lovers, where to hurt each other would have given pain to both parties. Such skill and desire to strike, with so much tenderness in inflicting a wound; so much compliment, with so much complaint; have perhaps never met together, as in the romantic hostility of this literary chivalry.