This is a very curious and entertaining miscellany of critical remarks
and literary history. Though the book promises nothing but observations
on the writings of Pope, yet no opportunity is neglected of introducing
the character of any other writer, or the mention of any performance or
event, in which learning is interested. From Pope, however, he always
takes his hint, and to Pope he returns again from his digressions. The
facts, which he mentions, though they are seldom anecdotes, in a
rigorous sense, are often such as are very little known, and such as
will delight more readers than naked criticism.
As he examines the works of this great poet, in an order nearly
chronological, he necessarily begins with his pastorals, which,
considered as representations of any kind of life, he very justly
censures; for there is in them a mixture of Grecian and English, of
ancient and modern images. Windsor is coupled with Hybla, and Thames
with Pactolus. He then compares some passages, which Pope has imitated,
or translated, with the imitation, or version, and gives the preference
to the originals, perhaps, not always upon convincing arguments.
Theocritus makes his lover wish to be a bee, that he might creep among
the leaves that form the chaplet of his mistress. Pope's enamoured swain
longs to be made the captive bird that sings in his fair one's bower,
that she might listen to his songs, and reward him with her kisses. The
critick prefers the image of Theocritus, as more wild, more delicate,
and more uncommon.
It is natural for a lover to wish, that he might be any thing that could
come near to his lady. But we more naturally desire to be that which she
fondles and caresses, than that which she would avoid, at least would
neglect. The snperiour delicacy of Theocritus I cannot discover, nor
can, indeed, find, that either in the one or the other image there is
any want of delicacy. Which of the two images was less common in the
time of the poet who used it, for on that consideration the merit of
novelty depends, I think it is now out of any critick's power to decide.
He remarks, I am afraid, with too much justice, that there is not a
single new thought in the pastorals; and, with equal reason, declares,
that their chief beauty consists in their correct and musical
versification, which has so influenced the English ear, as to render
every moderate rhymer harmonious.
In his examination of the Messiah, he justly observes some deviations
from the inspired author, which weaken the imagery, and dispirit the
expression.
On Windsor Forest, he declares, I think without proof, that descriptive
poetry was by no means the excellence of Pope; he draws this inference
from the few images introduced in this poem, which would not equally
belong to any other place. He must inquire, whether Windsor forest has,
in reality, any thing peculiar.
The Stag-chase is not, he says, so full, so animated, and so
circumstantiated, as Somerville's. Barely to say, that one performance
is not so good as another, is to criticise with little exactness. But
Pope has directed, that we should, in every work, regard the author's
end. The stag-chase is the main subject of Somerville, and might,
therefore, be properly dilated into all its circumstances; in Pope, it
is only incidental, and was to be despatched in a few lines.
He makes a just observation, "that the description of the external
beauties of nature, is usually the first effort of a young genius,
before he hath studied nature and passions. Some of Milton's most early,
as well as mos't exquisite pieces, are his Lycidas, l'Allegro, and il
Penseroso, if we may except his ode on the Nativity of Christ, which is,
indeed, prior in order of time, and in which a penetrating critick might
have observed the seeds of that boundless imagination, which was, one
day, to produce the Paradise Lost."
Mentioning Thomson, and other descriptive poets, he remarks, that
writers fail in their copies, for want of acquaintance with originals,
and justly ridicules those who think they can form just ideas of
valleys, mountains, and rivers, in a garret in the Strand. For this
reason, I cannot regret, with this author, that Pope laid aside his
design of writing American pastorals; for, as he must have painted
scenes, which he never saw, and manners, which he never knew, his
performance, though it might have been a pleasing amusement of fancy,
would have exhibited no representation of nature or of life.
After the pastorals, the critick considers the lyrick poetry of Pope,
and dwells longest on the ode on St. Cecilia's day, which he, like the
rest of mankind, places next to that of Dryden, and not much below it.
He remarks, after Mr. Spence, that the first stanza is a perfect
concert: the second he thinks a little flat; he justly commends the
fourth, but without notice of the best line in that stanza, or in the
poem:
"Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the sound."
In the latter part of the ode, he objects to the stanza of triumph:
"Thus song could prevail," &c.
as written in a measure ridiculous and burlesque, and justifies his
answer, by observing, that Addison uses the same numbers in the scene of
Rosamond, between Grideline and sir Trusty:
"How unhappy is he," &c.
That the measure is the same in both passages, must be confessed, and
both poets, perhaps, chose their numbers properly; for they both meant
to express a kind of airy hilarity. The two passions of merriment and
exultation are, undoubtedly, different; they are as different as a
gambol and a triumph, but each is a species of joy; and poetical
measures have not, in any language, been so far refined, as to provide
for the subdivisions of passion. They can only be adapted to general
purposes; but the particular and minuter propriety must be sought only
in the sentiment and language. Thus the numbers are the same in Colin's
Complaint, and in the ballad of Darby and Joan, though, in one, sadness
is represented, and, in the other, tranquillity; so the measure is the
same of Pope's Unfortunate Lady, and the Praise of Voiture.
He observes, very justly, that the odes, both of Dryden and Pope,
conclude, unsuitably and unnaturally, with epigram.
He then spends a page upon Mr. Handel's musick to Dryden's ode, and
speaks of him with that regard which he has generally obtained among the
lovers of sound. He finds something amiss in the air "With ravished
ears," but has overlooked, or forgotten, the grossest fault in that
composition, which is that in this line:
"Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,"
He has laid much stress upon the two latter words, which are merely
words of connexion, and ought, in musick, to be considered as
parenthetical.
From this ode is struck out a digression on the nature of odes, and the
comparative excellence of the ancients and moderns. He mentions the
chorus which Pope wrote for the duke of Buckingham; and thence takes
occasion to treat of the chorus of the ancients. He then comes to
another ode, of "The dying Christian to his Soul;" in which, finding an
apparent imitation of Flatman, he falls into a pleasing and learned
speculation, on the resembling passages to be found in different poets.
He mentions, with great regard, Pope's ode on Solitude, written when he
was but twelve years old, but omits to mention the poem on Silence,
composed, I think, as early, with much greater elegance of diction,
musick of numbers, extent of observation, and force of thought. If he
had happened to think on Baillet's chapter of Enfans célèbres, he might
have made, on this occasion, a very entertaining dissertation on early
excellence.
He comes next to the Essay on Criticism, the stupendous performance of a
youth, not yet twenty years old; and, after having detailed the
felicities of condition, to which he imagines Pope to have owed his
wonderful prematurity of mind, he tells us, that he is well informed
this essay was first written in prose. There is nothing improbable in
the report, nothing, indeed, but what is more likely than the contrary;
yet I [8] cannot forbear to hint to this writer, and all others, the
danger and weakness of trusting too readily to information. Nothing but
experience could evince the frequency of false information, or enable
any man to conceive, that so many groundless reports should be
propagated, as every man of eminence may hear of himself. Some men
relate what they think, as what they know; some men, of confused
memories and habitual inaccuracy, ascribe to one man, what belongs to
another; and some talk on, without thought or care. A few men are
sufficient to broach falsehoods, which are afterwards innocently
diffused by successive relaters.
He proceeds on, examining passage after passage of this essay; but we
must pass over all these criticisms, to which we have not something to
add or to object, or where this author does not differ from the general
voice of mankind. We cannot agree with him in his censure of the
comparison of a student advancing in science, with a traveller passing
the Alps, which is, perhaps, the best simile in our language; that, in
which the most exact resemblance is traced between things, in
appearance, utterly unrelated to each other. That the last line conveys
no new _idea_, is not true; it makes particular, what was before
general. Whether the description, which he adds from another author, be,
as he says, more full and striking than that of Pope, is not to be
inquired. Pope's description is relative, and can admit no greater
length than is usually allowed to a simile, nor any other particulars
than such as form the correspondence.
Unvaried rhymes, says this writer, highly disgust readers of a good ear.
It is, surely, not the ear, but the mind that is offended. The fault,
arising from the use of common rhymes, is, that by reading the past
line, the second may be guessed, and half the composition loses the
grace of novelty.
On occasion of the mention of an alexandrine, the critick observes, that
"the alexandrine may be thought a modern measure, but that _Robert of
Gloucester's Wife_ is an alexandrine, with the addition of two
syllables; and that Sternhold and Hopkins translated the Psalms in the
same measure of fourteen syllables, though they are printed otherwise."
This seems not to be accurately conceived or expressed: an alexandrine,
with the addition of two syllables, is no more an alexandrine, than with
the detraction of two syllables. Sternhold and Hopkins did, generally,
write in the alternate measure of eight and six syllables; but Hopkins
commonly rhymed the first and third; Sternhold, only the second and
fourth: so that Sternhold may be considered, as writing couplets of long
lines; but Hopkins wrote regular stanzas. From the practice of printing
the long lines of fourteen syllables in two short lines, arose the
license of some of our poets, who, though professing to write in
stanzas, neglect the rhymes of the first and third lines.
Pope has mentioned Petronius, among the great names of criticism, as the
remarker justly observes, without any critical merit. It is to be
suspected, that Pope had never read his book, and mentioned him on the
credit of two or three sentences which he had often seen quoted,
imagining, that where there was so much, there must necessarily be more.
Young men, in haste to be renowned, too frequently talk of books which
they have scarcely seen.
The revival of learning, mentioned in this poem, affords an opportunity
of mentioning the chief periods of literary history, of which this
writer reckons five: that of Alexander, of Ptolemy Philadelphus, of
Augustus, of Leo the tenth, of queen Anne.
These observations are concluded with a remark, which deserves great
attention: "In no polished nation, after criticism has been much
studied, and the rules of writing established, has any very
extraordinary book ever appeared."
The Rape of the Lock was always regarded, by Pope, as the highest
production of his genius. On occasion of this work, the history of the
comick-heroick is given; and we are told, that it descended from Fassoni
to Boileau, from Boileau to Garth, and from Garth to Pope. Garth is
mentioned, perhaps, with too much honour; but all are confessed to be
inferiour to Pope. There is, in his remarks on this work, no discovery
of any latent beauty, nor any thing subtle or striking; he is, indeed,
commonly right, but has discussed no difficult question.
The next pieces to be considered are, the Verses to the Memory of an
unfortunate Lady, the Prologue to Cato, and Epilogue to Jane Shore. The
first piece he commends. On occasion of the second, he digresses,
according to his custom, into a learned dissertation on tragedies, and
compares the English and French with the Greek stage. He justly censures
Cato, for want of action and of characters; but scarcely does justice to
the sublimity of some speeches, and the philosophical exactness in the
sentiments. "The simile of mount Atlas, and that of the Numidian
traveller, smothered in the sands, are, indeed, in character," says the
critick, "but sufficiently obvious." The simile of the mountain is,
indeed, common; but that of the traveller, I do not remember. That it is
obvious is easy to say, and easy to deny. Many things are obvious, when
they are taught.
He proceeds to criticise the other works of Addison, till the epilogue
calls his attention to Rowe, whose character he discusses in the same
manner, with sufficient freedom and sufficient candour.
The translation of the epistle of Sappho to Phaon is next considered;
but Sappho and Ovid are more the subjects of this disquisition, than
Pope. We shall, therefore, pass over it to a piece of more importance,
the epistle of Eloisa to Abelard, which may justly be regarded, as one
of the works on which the reputation of Pope will stand in future times.
The critick pursues Eloisa through all the changes of passion, produces
the passages of her letters, to which any allusion is made, and
intersperses many agreeable particulars and incidental relations. There
is not much profundity of criticism, because the beauties are sentiments
of nature, which the learned and the ignorant feel alike. It is justly
remarked by him, that the wish of Eloisa, for the happy passage of
Abelard into the other world, is formed according to the ideas of
mystick devotion.
These are the pieces examined in this volume: whether the remaining part
of the work will be one volume, or more, perhaps the writer himself
cannot yet inform us [9]. This piece is, however, a complete work, so
far as it goes; and the writer is of opinion, that he has despatched the
chief part of his task; for he ventures to remark, that the reputation
of Pope, as a poet, among posterity, will be principally founded on his
Windsor Forest, Rape of the Lock, and Eloisa to Abelard; while the facts
and characters, alluded to in his late writings, will be forgotten and
unknown, and their poignancy and propriety little relished; for wit and
satire are transitory and perishable, but nature and passion are
eternal.
He has interspersed some passages of Pope's life, with which most
readers will be pleased. When Pope was yet a child, his father, who had
been a merchant in London, retired to Binfield. He was taught to read by
an aunt; and learned to write, without a master, by copying printed
books. His father used to order him to make English verses, and would
oblige him to correct and retouch them over and over, and, at last,
could say, "These are good rhymes."
At eight years of age, he was committed to one Taverner, a priest, who
taught him the rudiments of the Latin and Greek. At this time, he met
with Ogleby's Homer, which seized his attention; he fell next upon
Sandys's Ovid, and remembered these two translations, with pleasure, to
the end of his life.
About ten, being at school, near Hyde-park corner, he was taken to the
playhouse, and was so struck with the splendour of the drama, that he
formed a kind of play out of Ogleby's Homer, intermixed with verses of
his own. He persuaded the head boys to act this piece, and Ajax was
performed by his master's gardener. They were habited according to the
pictures in Ogleby. At twelve, he retired, with his father, to Windsor
forest, and formed himself by study in the best English poets.
In this extract, it was thought convenient to dwell chiefly upon such
observations, as relate immediately to Pope, without deviating, with the
author, into incidental inquiries. We intend to kindle, not to
extinguish, curiosity, by this slight sketch of a work, abounding with
curious quotations and pleasing disquisitions. He must be much
acquainted with literary history, both of remote and late times, who
does not find, in this essay, many things which he did not know before;
and, if there be any too learned to be instructed in facts or opinions,
he may yet properly read this book, as a just specimen of literary
moderation.