The quarrel between POPE and ADDISON originated in one of the
infirmities of genius--a subject of inquiry even after their
death, by Sir WILLIAM BLACKSTONE--POPE courts ADDISON--suspects
ADDISON of jealousy--ADDISON'S foible to be considered a great
poet--interview between the rivals, of which the result was the
portrait of ATTICUS, for which ADDISON was made to sit.
Among the Literary Quarrels of POPE one acquires dignity and interest
from the characters of both parties. It closed by producing the
severest, but the most masterly portrait of one man of genius,
composed by another, which has ever been hung on the satiric Parnassus
for the contemplation of ages. ADDISON must descend to posterity with
the dark spots of ATTICUS staining a purity of character which had
nearly proved immaculate.
The friendship between Pope and Addison was interrupted by one of
the infirmities of genius. Tempers of watchful delicacy gather up in
silence and darkness motives so shadowy in their origin, and of such
minute growth, that, never breaking out into any open act, they
escape all other eyes but those of the parties themselves. These
causes of enmity are too subtle to bear the touch; they cannot be
inquired after, nor can they be described; and it may be said that
the minds of such men have rather quarrelled than they themselves:
they utter no complaints, but they avoid each other. All the world
perceived that two authors of the finest genius had separated from
motives on which both were silent, but which had evidently operated
with equal force on both. Their admirers were very general, and at a
time when literature divided with politics the public interest, the
best feelings of the nation were engaged in tracking the obscure
commencements and the secret growth of this literary quarrel, in which
the amiable and moral qualities of Addison, and the gratitude and
honour of Pope, were equally involved. The friends of either party
pretended that their chiefs entertained a reciprocal regard for each
other, while the illustrious characters themselves were living in
a state of hostility. Even long after these literary heroes were
departed, the same interest was general among the lovers of
literature; but those obscure motives which had only influenced
two minds--those imperceptible events, which are only events as
they are watched by the jealousy of genius--eluded the most anxious
investigation. Yet so lasting and so powerful was the interest
excited by this literary quarrel, that, within a few years, the
elegant mind of Sir WILLIAM BLACKSTONE withdrew from the severity of
profounder studies to inquire into the causes of a quarrel which was
still exciting the most opposite opinions. Blackstone has judged
and summed up; but though he evidently inclines to favour Addison, by
throwing into the balance some explanation for the silence of
Addison against the audible complaints of Pope; though sometimes he
pleads as well as judges, and infers as well as proves; yet even
Blackstone has not taken on himself to deliver a decision. His happy
genius has only honoured literary history by the masterly force and
luminous arrangement of investigation, to which, since the time of
Bayle, it has been too great a stranger.[225]
At this day, removed from all personal influence and affections, and
furnished with facts which contemporaries could not command, we take
no other concern in this literary quarrel but as far as curiosity and
truth delight us in the study of human nature. We are now of no
party--we are only historians!
Pope was a young writer when introduced to Addison by the intervention
of that generously-minded friend of both, Steele. Addison eulogised
Pope's "Essay on Criticism;" and this fine genius covering with his
wing an unfledged bardling, conferred a favour which, in the
estimation of a poet, claims a life of indelible gratitude.
Pope zealously courted Addison by his poetical aid on several
important occasions; he gave all the dignity that fine poetry could
confer on the science of medals, which Addison had written on, and
wrote the finest prologue in the language for the Whig tragedy of his
friend. Dennis attacked, and Pope defended _Cato_[226]. Addison might
have disapproved both of the manner and the matter of the defence; but
he did more--he insulted Pope by a letter to Dennis, which Dennis
eagerly published as Pope's severest condemnation. An alienation of
friendship must have already taken place, but by no overt act on
Pope's side.
Not that, however, Pope had not found his affections weakened: the
dark hints scattered in his letters show that something was gathering
in his mind. Warburton, from his familiar intercourse with Pope, must
be allowed to have known his literary concerns more than any one; and
when he drew up the narrative,[227] seems to me to have stated
uncouthly, but expressively, the progressive state of Pope's feelings.
According to that narrative, Pope "reflected," that after he had first
published "The Rape of the Lock," then nothing more than a hasty _jeu
d'esprit_, when he communicated to Addison his very original project
of the whole sylphid machinery, Addison chilled the ardent bard with
his coldness, advised him against any alteration, and to leave it as
"a delicious little thing, _merum sal_." It was then, says Warburton,
"Mr. Pope began to _open his eyes_ to Addison's character." But when
afterwards he discovered that Tickell's Homer was opposed to his, and
judged, as Warburton says, "by _laying many odd circumstances_
together," that Addison,[228] and not Tickell, was the author--the
alienation on Pope's side was complete. No open breach indeed had yet
taken place between the rival authors, who, as jealous of dominion as
two princes, would still demonstrate, in their public edicts, their
inviolable regard; while they were only watching the advantageous
moment when they might take arms against each other.
Still Addison publicly bestowed great encomiums on Pope's _Iliad_,
although he had himself composed the rival version, and in private
preferred his own.[229] He did this with the same ease he had
continued its encouragement while Pope was employed on it. We are
astonished to discover such deep politics among literary Machiavels!
Addison had certainly raised up a literary party. Sheridan, who wrote
nearly with the knowledge of a contemporary, in his "Life of Swift,"
would naturally use the language and the feelings of the time; and in
describing Ambrose Phillips, he adds, he was "one of Mr. Addison's
little senate."
But in this narrative I have dropt some material parts. Pope believed
that Addison had employed Gildon to write against him, and had
encouraged Phillips to asperse his character.[230] We cannot, now,
quite demonstrate these alleged facts; but we can show that Pope
believed them, and that Addison does not appear to have refuted
them.[231] Such tales, whether entirely false or partially true, may
be considered in this inquiry of little amount. The greater events
must regulate the lesser ones.[232]
Was Addison, then, jealous of Pope? Addison, in every respect, then,
his superior; of established literary fame when Pope was yet young;
preceding him in age and rank; and fortunate in all the views of human
ambition. But what if Addison's foible was that of being considered a
great poet? His political poetry had raised him to an undue elevation,
and the growing celebrity of Pope began to offend him, not with the
appearance of a meek rival, with whom he might have held divided
empire, but as a master-spirit, that was preparing to reign alone. It
is certain that Addison was the most feeling man alive at the fate of
his poetry. At the representation of his _Cato_, such was his
agitation, that had _Cato_ been condemned, the life of Addison might,
too, have been shortened. When a wit had burlesqued some lines of this
dramatic poem, his uneasiness at the innocent banter was equally
oppressive; nor could he rest, till, by the interposition of a friend,
he prevailed upon the author to burn them.[233]
To the facts already detailed, and to this disposition in Addison's
temper, and to the quick and active suspicions of Pope, irritable, and
ambitious of all the sovereignty of poetry, we may easily conceive
many others of those obscure motives, and invisible events, which none
but Pope, alienated every day more and more from his affections for
Addison, too acutely perceived, too profoundly felt, and too
unmercifully avenged. These are alluded to when the satirist sings--
Damn with faint praise; assent with civil leer;
And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike;
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike, &c.
Accusations crowded faster than the pen could write them down. Pope
never composed with more warmth. No one can imagine that Atticus was
an ideal personage, touched as it is with all the features of an
extraordinary individual. In a word, it was recognised instantly by
the individual himself; and it was suppressed by Pope for near twenty
years, before he suffered it to escape to the public.
It was some time during their avowed rupture, for the exact period has
not been given, that their friends promoted a meeting between these
two great men. After a mutual lustration, it was imagined they might
have expiated their error, and have been restored to their original
purity. The interview did take place between the rival wits, and was
productive of some very characteristic ebullitions, strongly
corroborative of the facts as they have been stated here. This
extraordinary interview has been frequently alluded to. There can be
no doubt of the genuineness of the narrative but I know not on what
authority it came into the world.[234]
The interview between Addison and Pope took place in the presence of
Steele and Gay. They met with cold civility. Addison's reserve wore
away, as was usual with him, when wine and conversation imparted some
warmth to his native phlegm. At a moment the generous Steele deemed
auspicious, he requested Addison would perform his promise in renewing
his friendship with Pope. Pope expressed his desire: he said he was
willing to hear his faults, and preferred candour and severity rather
than forms of complaisance; but he spoke in a manner as conceiving
Addison, and not himself, had been the aggressor. So much like their
humblest inferiors do great men act under the influence of common
passions: Addison was overcome with anger, which cost him an effort to
suppress; but, in the formal speech he made, he reproached Pope with
indulging a vanity that far exceeded his merit; that he had not yet
attained to the excellence he imagined; and observed, that his verses
had a different air when Steele and himself corrected them; and, on
this occasion, reminded Pope of a particular line which Steele had
improved in the "Messiah."[235] Addison seems at that moment to have
forgotten that he had trusted, for the last line of his own dramatic
poem, rather to the inspiration of the poet he was so contemptuously
lecturing than to his own.[236] He proceeded with detailing all the
abuse the herd of scribblers had heaped on Pope; and by declaring that
his Homer was "an ill-executed thing," and Tickell's had all the
spirit. We are told, he concluded "in a low hollow voice of feigned
temper," in which he asserted that he had ceased to be solicitous
about his own poetical reputation since he had entered into more
public affairs; but, from friendship for Pope, desired him to be more
humble, if he wished to appear a better man to the world.
When Addison had quite finished schooling his little rebel, Gay, mild
and timid (for it seems, with all his love for Pope, his expectations
from the court, from Addison's side, had tethered his gentle heart),
attempted to say something. But Pope, in a tone far more spirited than
all of them, without reserve told Addison that he appealed from his
judgment, and did not esteem him able to correct his verses; upbraided
him as a pensioner from early youth, directing the learning which had
been obtained by the public money to his own selfish desire of power,
and that he "had always endeavoured to cut down new-fledged merit."
The conversation now became a contest, and was broken up without
ceremony. Such was the notable interview between two rival wits, which
only ended in strengthening their literary quarrel; and sent back the
enraged satirist to his inkstand, where he composed a portrait, for
which Addison was made to sit, with the fine _chiar' oscuro_ of
Horace, and with as awful and vindictive features as the sombre hand
of Juvenal could have designed.