Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper and the Online
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To H. T. Swedenberg, Junior
_founder_, _protector_, _friend_
_He that delights to_ Plant _and_ Set,
_Makes_ After-Ages _in his_ Debt.
Where could they find another formed so fit,
To poise, with solid sense, a sprightly wit?
Were these both wanting, as they both abound,
Where could so firm integrity be found?
The verse and emblem are from George Wither, _A Collection of Emblems,
Ancient and Modern_ (London, 1635), illustration xxxv, page 35.
The lines of poetry (123-126) are from "To My Honoured Kinsman John
Driden," in John Dryden, _The Works of John Dryden_, ed. Sir Walter
Scott, rev. and corr. George Saintsbury (Edinburgh: William Patterson,
1885), xi, 78.
THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
COLLEY CIBBER
A LETTER FROM Mr. _CIBBER_ TO Mr. _POPE_
(1742)
_Introduction by_
HELENE KOON
PUBLICATION NUMBER 158
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
1973
GENERAL EDITORS
William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles
Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles
David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles
ADVISORY EDITORS
Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan
James L. Clifford, Columbia University
Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia
Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles
Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago
Louis A. Landa, Princeton University
Earl Miner, Princeton University
Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota
Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles
Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
James Sutherland, University College, London
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles
Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
Curt A. Zimansky, State University of Iowa
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
Jean T. Shebanek, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
Typography by Wm. M. Cheney
INTRODUCTION
In the twentieth century, Colley Cibber's name has become synonymous
with "fool." Pope's _Dunciad_, the culmination of their long quarrel,
has done its work well, and Cibber, now too often regarded merely as a
pretentious dunce, has been relegated to an undeserved obscurity.
The history of this feud is replete with inconsistencies.[1] The image
Cibber presents of himself as a charming, good-natured, thick-skinned
featherbrain is as true as Pope's of himself as a patient, humorous,
objective moralist. Each picture is somewhat manipulated by its creator.
The reasons behind the manipulation are less matters of outright untruth
than of complex personalities disclosing only what they regard as
pertinent. Cibber, the actor, always tries to charm his audience; Pope,
the satirist, proffers those aspects best suited to his moral purpose.
Although the fact of their differences is evident in Pope's writings
after 1730, explanations of the cause, continuation and climax tend to
be muddled. The cause generally cited is Cibber's story in the Letter
concerning _Three Hours after Marriage_ and _The Rehearsal_. This is not
only a one-sided version, it is not even strongly substantiated. As
Norman Ault pointed out, it was not reported in any of the periodicals
at a time when such incidents were seized upon by journalists hungry for
gossip.[2] The only confirmation aside from Cibber is Montagu Bacon's
letter to his cousin James Montagu, which gives a slightly less
vivacious account:
'I don't know whether you heard, before you went out of town, that
_The Rehearsal_ was revived ... and Cibber interlarded it with
several things in ridicule of the last play, upon which Pope went
up to him and told him he was a rascal, and if he were able he
would cane him; that his friend Gay was a proper fellow, and if he
went on in his sauciness he might expect such a reception from
him. The next night Gay came accordingly, and, treating him as Pope
had done the night before, Cibber very fairly gave him a fillip on
the nose, which made them both roar. The Guards came and parted
them, and carried away Gay, and so ended this poetical scuffle.'[3]
A more likely cause is the second story in the _Letter_, the visit to
the bawdy house. If, as Ault goes on to suggest, there is even a shadow
of truth in it, Pope's attitude, as well as his reluctance to reveal its
cause, is understandable. The question then becomes: why did he
continually provoke Cibber, knowing the latter had such a story at hand?
This, however, might not be so illogical as it appears. Pope's work in
the thirties abounds in sneers at the actor, but none of them is equal
in scale to the full attack launched against Theobald. In comparison
with the 1735 portraits of Atticus and Sporus, the comments on Cibber
are minor barbs that could be ignored by a man whose reputation was
secure in its own right. Cibber evidently believed he was in such a
position, for he offered no defense before 1740, and took no offensive
action before 1742.
The "wicked wasp of Twickenham" is supposed to have meditated long and
fiendishly before bursting forth against his enemies, yet the _Dunciad_
of 1728 reveals no evidence of long fermentation. The choice of Theobald
as king of the Dunces obviously derives from _Shakespeare Restored; or a
Specimen of the many errors as well committed as unamended by Mr. Pope,
in his late edition of that Poet_ (1726). Theobald's remarks on Pope's
slipshod editing of Shakespeare are not couched in diplomatic terms, and
would be especially galling if Warburton's note is true:
During two whole years while Mr. Pope was preparing his Edition of
Shakespear, he publish'd Advertisements, requesting assistance, and
promising satisfaction to any who could contribute to its greater
perfection. But this Restorer, who was at that time solliciting
favours of him by letters, did wholly conceal his design, till
after its publication: (which he was since not asham'd to own, in a
_Daily Journal_, of Nov. 26, 1728.)[4]
Pedantic, unimaginative and presumptuous, Theobald was the logical
choice for a Dunce King in 1728. Dennis, Ducket, Burnet, Gildon _et
cie._, had assailed him for years, and the prompt responses by
Scriblerus merely increased their fury. Pope bore as many undeserved
blows as Cibber, and he was no model of patience; the intense
hostilities waged against him in the twenties were ample cause for an
epic answer.[5]
Pope claimed he attacked only those who had attacked him. It seems
strange that, among the inimical host who had indulged in verbal
violence, he should have revised his satire against the one man who had
not contributed to the paper war, and who had, in his _Apology_, made
humble acknowledgment of Pope's gifts: "How terrible a Weapon is Satyr
in the hands of a great Genius?" Cibber asks, remarking on Pope's acid
portrait of Addison, and adds:
But the Pain which the Acrimony of those Verses gave me is, in some
measure, allay'd in finding that this inimitable Writer, as he
advances in Years, has since had Candour enough to celebrate the
same Person for his visible Merit. Happy Genius! whose Verse, like
the Eye of Beauty, can heal the deepest Wounds with the least
Glance of Favour.[6]
Even stranger is that with such eminent and vocal enemies as Lord Hervey
and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, he should have been concerned with a
seventy-year-old semi-retired player who was too ineffectual, it would
appear, to be a proper target for his great satire, and whose words in
print could never have been a real threat.
The words "in print" are important, especially with reference to Cibber.
As far as direct attack in the form of broadsides, pamphlets and the
like, Cibber is clearly innocent; however, like many actors, he was an
expert improvisator of stage dialogue, and this in itself is a reason to
believe that his side of the feud was kept up from the theater platform.
A more potent and public method of ridicule would be difficult to
devise.
Stage warfare was as prevalent as paper warfare, as Cibber's mockery of
_Three Hours after Marriage_ suggests, and as the prologues and
epilogues amply demonstrate. _The Non-Juror_ (1719) with its
anti-Catholic remarks and its Jesuit villain played by Cibber himself,
has several barbs directed at Pope.[7]
If Pope's wounds had been festering since 1715, he had a perfect
opportunity to avenge them in the _Dunciad Variorum_ of 1729. When Gay's
_Polly_ was suppressed that year, Cibber was accused of being
responsible (though it was never proved),[8] since he had first refused
_The Beggar's Opera_, and then failed miserably to imitate its success
with his own _Love in a Riddle_. He was at this time more widely known
than Theobald, and had been a favorite target for anti-Hanoverians since
_The Non-Juror_.[9] It is very odd that Pope should have ignored this
chance, particularly when so many of his dunces are playwrights, only to
take it up fourteen years later under much less favorable
circumstances--when he himself was mortally ill and Cibber out of the
public eye--unless something else had provoked him.
One view is that the laureateship triggered the alteration, but while it
is true that Cibber was one of the worst versifiers ever to wear the
bays, that honor had been conferred in 1730, thirteen years before the
last _Dunciad_. The flood of burlesque Odes that followed each of
Cibber's Birth-Day and New-Year efforts had ebbed by the mid-thirties,
and in 1743 the laureate was a stale joke.
The _Apology_'s praise of Pope did not benefit Cibber; years before the
_Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot_ had stated:
A Fool quite angry is quite innocent;
Alas! 'tis ten times worse when they repent (108-109).
and the minor slap on the wrist was misquoted by Pope, as the _Letter_
points out. The exchange is interesting, for it is an indication that
the man behind the actor's mask might have been less thick-skinned than
he liked to seem, that he was genuinely hurt by Pope's shafts.
Cibber did not mind being portrayed as a fool. That, after all was the
character he had created as Sir Novelty Fashion in _Love's Last Shift_
(1696), and which he continued to play in public throughout his life.
But a charge of immorality did bother him, for he was anxious to be
considered a moral man. Apparently he was--his enemies charged him with
gambling, highhandedness and plagiarism, but his life seems to have
been surprisingly free of the kind of scandal that plagued most
theatrical personalities. His plays embody the materialistic
middle-class values which he champions in his later prose writings, and
of all Pope's arrows, "And has not Colley still his lord and whore?"[10]
seems to have struck deepest. It may be significant that the bawdy house
story follows close upon Cibber's plaintive remonstrance against this
line.
As long as Cibber was in his own territory, he could answer Pope orally,
but when he at last decided to reply in print, he was at a distinct
disadvantage. The actor has a notorious disregard for the written word;
his own experience on stage tells him that what is being said has less
impact than the manner in which it is delivered. Cibber's lack of
concern for language had been well publicized. His comment that Anne
Oldfield "Out-did her usual Out-doing"[11] was never allowed to rest,
and Fielding rarely missed an opportunity to use Cibber's "paraphonalia"
against him; that the most merciless parody of his Odes could scarcely
sink to the depths of the originals, did not deter the efforts of the
parodists.[12]
He was not entirely insensible of his weaknesses. The second edition of
_The Provoked Husband_ was silently changed to "Out-did her usual
Excellence," and the spelling of paraphernalia corrected. Dr. Johnson's
testimony supports this view of Cibber's seriousness:
His friends gave out that he _intended_ his birth-day Odes should
be bad: but that was not the case, Sir; for he kept them many
months by him, and a few years before he died he shewed me one of
them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect as might be,
and I made some corrections, to which he was not very willing to
submit.[13]
His unwillingness to take Johnson's advice might be more than mere
egotism, if the Ode was the same one mentioned elsewhere in the _Life_,
"I remember when he brought me one of his Odes to have my opinion of it,
I could not bear such nonsense, and would not let him read it to the
end; so little respect had I for _that great man_! (laughing.)."[14]
The laureateship marked only one of several changes in Cibber's life. In
1730, the triumvirate of actor-managers and their leading lady, a
quartet which had supported Drury Lane through its most prosperous
years, was broken by the death of Anne Oldfield; Wilks followed in 1732,
and Booth, too ill to perform for two years, in 1733. Cibber's royal
appointment meant a sure annual income of L100 (plus a butt of sack
worth L26), his children were grown, and he could afford some freedom
from the demands of the theater at last. He continued to act, but with
lessening frequency, until 1746, when as Cardinal Pandulph in his own
_Papal Tyranny in the Reign of King John_, he played the last role of a
career spanning more than half a century.
By 1740, he was far enough removed from the theater to have a slightly
different perspective on language. The _Apology_ betrays a concern for
his reputation beyond the immediate audience, and the need to leave a
written record other than his plays. Cibber had written prefaces and
dedications, but from this point on, he was to pursue his nondramatic
writing with _The egoist; or, Colley upon Cibber Being His Own Picture
retouch'd, to so plain a Likeness, that no One, now, would have the Face
to own it, but Himself_ (1743); _The lady's lecture, a theatrical
dialogue, between Sir Charles Easy and his marriageable daughter. Being
an attempt to engage obedience by filial liberty, and to given the
maiden conduct of virtue, chearfulness_ (1748); and _The Character and
Conduct of Cicero_ (1749), which Davies defends:
A player daring to write upon a known subject without a college
permission, was a shocking offense; and yet Dr. Middleton, to whom
the conduct of Cicero was addressed, spoke of it with respect; and
Mr. Hooke, the writer of the best Roman History in our language,
has quoted Cibber's arguments in this [his?] pamphlet against the
murderers of Julius Caesar, and speaks of them, not only with
honour, but insists upon them as cogent and unanswerable.[15]
Cibber seems to have become more and more aware of the written word as a
powerful legacy, and Pope's attacks began to hold a menace they had not
had during the years of lighthearted stage warfare. On 20 March 1742,
the _New Dunciad_ struck him with enough force to cause him to reply
with this open _Letter_ of 7 July, which attracted a great deal of
attention.[16] Four engravings and at least six pamphlets, all focusing
on the bawdy house story, were shortly in circulation. Whether or not
the story is true, or whether it was even believed, is immaterial. Its
importance lies in that it allowed Pope's enemies to have at him in the
most devastating way. The _Letter_ may well have been as painful as
Jonathan Richardson, Jr. claimed when he told Dr. Johnson that
he attended his father, the painter, on a visit to Twickenham when
one of Cibber's pamphlets had just come into Pope's hands. 'These
things are my diversion,' said Pope. They sat by him while he read
it, and saw his features writhing with anguish. After the visitors
had taken their leave, young Richardson said to his father that he
'hoped to be preserved from such diversion as had been that day the
lot of Pope.'[17]
If so, the other attacks must have been shattering, since they lacked
even the surface good humor of Cibber's _Letter_. Pope, at any rate, was
concerned enough to tell Spence:
The story published by Cibber, as to the main point, is an absolute
lie. I do remember that I was invited by Lord Warwick to pass an
evening with him. He carried me and Cibber in his coach to a
bawdy-house. There was a woman there, but I had nothing to do with
her of the kind that Cibber mentions, to the best of my memory--and
I had so few things of that kind ever on my hands that I could
scarce have forgot it, especially so circumstanced as he
pretends.[18]
An answer to the _Letter_ was demanded, and it was not long in coming.
In August/September, Pope wrote his friend Hugh Bethel concerning a copy
of the _New Dunciad_ he had sent him:
That poem has not done me, or my Quiet, the least harm; only it
provokd Cibber to write a very foolish & impudent Letter, which I
have no cause to be sorry for, & perhaps next Winter I shall be
thought to be glad of: But I lay in my Claim to you, to Testify for
me, that if he should chance to die before a New & Improved Edition
of the Dunciad comes out, I have already, actually written (before,
& not after his death) all I shall ever say about him.[19]
A Cibber-baiting campaign was undertaken by the poet's friends, and the
actor responded with _The egoist_, in which he defended himself, as in
his _Apology_, by freely admitting his flaws with infuriating
complacency. Then a false leaf of the last _Dunciad_ came into his hands
(though certainly not directly from Pope), and he published a second,
very brief, letter which indicated some stress. Pope knew, and at least
tacitly approved, of these tactics, for in February of 1743, he wrote
Lord Marchmont:
I won't publish the fourth _Dunciad_ as 'tis newset till
Michaelmas, that we may have time to play Cibber all the while....
He will be stuck, like the man in the almanac, not deep, but all
over. He won't know which way to turn himself to. Exhausted at the
first stroke, and reduced to passion and calling names, so that he
won't be able to write more, and won't be able to bear living
without writing.[20]
Copyright difficulties not mentioned by Pope prevented the Michaelmas
publication date, but on 29 October 1743, the final _Dunciad_ appeared
with its new hero, for all the world to see.
Cibber kept his promise to "have the last word." _Another Letter from
Mr. Cibber to Mr. Pope_ followed the publication of this _Dunciad_,
stating his grievances with somewhat less humor, a number of
scatological references, and an accusation against Warburton for
instigating the change. Included was a twenty-page aside on the
offending Bishop, revealing a startlingly thorough knowledge of his
writings. This was the end. Cibber's friends were eager for him to keep
up his side of the battle, but he, having had his say, resumed his
good-humor and refused to speak out again.
It has been suggested that Pope may have planned the change in hero
earlier, and aimed the _New Dunciad_ with the express purpose of goading
Cibber into just such a reply as the _Letter_. This is, of course,
possible, but it cannot be more than speculation; the final _Dunciad_
does show evidence of hasty revision. Pope was severely ill when his
last variation on the dunce theme appeared, and the seven months of life
remaining to him were clearly not enough to permit him to polish it to
the level of perfection customary in his work. But, as Warburton once
noted, quality and posterity have awarded Pope the final say:
Quoth Cibber to Pope, Tho' in Verse you foreclose,
I'll have the last Word; for by G--, I'll write prose.
Poor Colly, thy Reas'ning is none of the strongest,
For know, the last Word is the Word that lasts longest.[21]
Cibber's words have not been reprinted since the eighteenth century, and
his reputation has become so distorted it is sometimes difficult to find
the man who, for so many years, amused and delighted London audiences.
Yet, if one looks closely, under the froth and foppery, some of the
charm and perception of the man still shines through. And, of more
importance to the world of literature, it seems fairly clear that,
whatever the original offense, the _Dunciad_ as we know it today was a
direct result of this _Letter_.
California State College
San Bernardino
NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION
[1] Not even the winner of the contest has been beyond dispute. 150
years afterward, Robert W. Lowe, "Supplementary Chapter to Colley
Cibber's Apology" in his edition of _An Apology for the Life of Colley
Cibber, Comedian, and Late Patentee of the Theatre-Royal_ (London: J. C.
Nimmo, 1889), II, 270, remarks on Cibber's later years: "His [Cibber's]
state of mind was probably the more 'chearful and contented' because of
his unquestionable success in his tilt with the formidable author of
'The Dunciad;' a success none the less certain at the time, that the
enduring fame of Pope has caused Cibber's triumph over him to be lost
sight of now."
[2] Norman Ault, _New Light on Pope_ (London: Methuen, 1949), pp.
298-307.
[3] George Paston [Emily Morse Symmonds], _Mr. Pope His Life and Times_
(London: Hutchinson & Co., 1909), I, 197.
[4] Alexander Pope, _Works_, ed. William Warburton (London: J. and P.
Knapton, 1751), V, 86 (Book I, line 108). Griffith 643. This is a note
to the variations on lines 108ff: "But chief in BAYS'S monster-breeding
breast" and the wording is slightly altered from the earlier note quoted
in the Twickenham edition, V, 75, _Dunciad_ (A), Book I, line 106n.
[5] J. V. Guerinot, _Pamphlet Attacks on Alexander Pope 1711-1744_ (New
York: New York University Press, 1969), lists 15 pamphlets between 1724
and the publication of the first _Dunciad_, but he does not include the
frequent newspaper comments.
[6] Cibber, I, 38-39.
[7] William H. Peterson, "Pope and Cibber's _The Non-Juror_" MLN, LXX
(May, 1955), 332-335. Three instances are given:
1. Maria, the coquette, quotes _The Rape of the Lock_ with great
relish. The praise is in the wrong mouth.
2. Maria speaks slightingly of her English version of Homer. Pope's
last volume had just come out.
3. Dr. Wolf refers to "Eloisa and Abelard" in his second attempt to
seduce Lady Woodvil. The argument is twisted out of context.
These elements, combined with the strong anti-Catholic sentiment, would
certainly point attention toward Pope, and, in any case, were not
calculated to please him.
[8] See R. H. Barker, _Mr. Cibber of Drury Lane_ (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1939), p. 151.
[9] Cibber's supposition that Pope wrote the _Clue to the Non-Juror_ has
subsequently been established as correct. See Ault, pp. 303-313.
[10] _Epistle to Arbuthnot_, 97. It should be noted here that Cibber
misquotes the line, a failing habitual to him. The anonymous pamphlet,
_A Blast upon Bays; or, a New Lick at the Laureat_, which appeared
shortly after the Letter, points out rather severely the difference in
meaning between Cibber's "too" and Pope's "still", maintaining a
mistress twenty years after the events, _A Blast_ is as heated in
defense of Pope as it is in attack against Cibber, but it offers no
evidence; aside from Pope's original line, it is the only charge of this
kind among contemporary attacks.
[11] Colley Cibber, _The Provoked Husband_ (London, 1728), Preface.
[12] Two examples from the Birth-day Odes will give some idea of the
Cibberian quality:
Her Fleets, that now the Seas command,
Were late upon her Forests growing;
Her wholesome Stores, for every Band,
As late within her Fields were sowing. (1741)
Behold! in clouds of fire serene,
The royal hero heads his pow'rs:
Alike to fame, with raptures seen,
His younger hope, the eaglet soars.
Fortune, to grace her fav'rite son,
Stamps on his bleeding form renown. (1743)
[13] James Boswell, _Life of Johnson_, ed. George Birkbeck Hill, rev. L.
F. Powell (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1934), I, 402.
[14] Boswell, II, 92-93.
[15] Thomas Davies, _Memoirs of the Life of David Garrick, Esq._
(London, 1780), II, 202.
[16] In the Twickenham Edition of _The Dunciad_ (London: Methuen, 2nd
ed. rev., 1953, pp. xxxiii-xxxiv and (B) 341), James Sutherland refers
to line 20 ("Soft on her lap her Laureat son reclines") and holds that
Cibber's answer may have been less a protest than a warning. In _The New
Dunciad_ (1742), however, the footnote to this line expands the satire,
quotes from the _Apology_ and is a sharper attack than the line itself.
[17] Paston, I, 687.
[18] Joseph Spence, _Observations, Anecdotes and Characters of Books and
Men_, ed. James M. Osborn (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), I, 110 (no.
251).
[19] Alexander Pope, Correspondence, ed. George Sherburn (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1956), IV, 415.
[20] Spence, I, 148-149 (no. 331).
[21] Pope, _Works_, V. 89 (Book I, line 109n). This verse appears in
the Twickenham edition, V, 276, as a note to _Dunciad_ (B) Book I, line
104.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
The facsimile of _A Letter from Mr. Cibber to Mr. Pope_ (1742) is
reproduced by permission from a copy of the first edition (Shelf Mark:
114527) in _The Huntington Library, San Marino, California_. The total
type-page (p. 47) measures 165 x 85 mm.
A LETTER FROM Mr. _CIBBER_, TO Mr. _POPE_.
Price One Shilling.
A LETTER FROM Mr. _CIBBER_, TO Mr. _POPE_,
Inquiring into the MOTIVES that might
induce him in his SATYRICAL WORKS,
to be so frequently fond of
Mr. CIBBER'S Name.
_Out of thy own Mouth will I judge thee._
Pref. to the _Dunciad_.
_LONDON_,
Printed: And Sold by W. LEWIS in
_Russel-Street, Covent-Garden_.
M DCC XLII.
Price 1s.
A LETTER TO Mr. _POPE_, &c.
_SIR_,
As you have for several Years past (particularly in your Poetical Works)
mentioned my Name, without my desiring it; give me leave, at last, to
make my due Compliments to _Yours_ in Prose, which I should not choose
to do, but that I am really driven to it (as the Puff in the Play-Bills
says) _At the Desire of several Persons of Quality_.
If I have lain so long stoically silent, or unmindful of your satyrical
Favours, it was not so much for want of a proper Reply, as that I
thought they never needed a Publick one: For all People of Sense would
know, what Truth or Falshood there was in what you have said of me,
without my wisely pointing it out to them. Nor did I choose to follow
your Example of being so much a Self-Tormentor, as to be concern'd at
whatever Opinion of me any publish'd Invective might infuse into People
unknown to me: Even the Malicious, though they may like the Libel, don't
always believe it. But since the Publication of your last new _Dunciad_
(where you still seem to enjoy your so often repeated Glory of being
bright upon my Dulness) my Friends now insist, that it will be thought
Dulness indeed, or a plain Confession of my being a Bankrupt in Wit, if
I don't immediately answer those Bills of Discredit you have drawn upon
me: For, say they, your dealing with him, like a Gentleman, in your
_Apology for your own Life_, &c. you see, has had no sensible Effect
upon him, as appears by the wrong-headed Reply his Notes upon the new
_Dunciad_ have made to it: For though, in that _Apology_ you seem to
have offer'd him a friendly release of all Damages, yet as it is plain
he scorns to accept it, by his still holding you at Defiance with fresh
Abuses, you have an indisputable Right to resume that Discharge, and may
now, as justly as ever, call him to account for his many bygone Years of
Defamation. But pray, Gentlemen, said I, if, as you seem to believe, his
Defamation has more of Malice than Truth in it, does he not blacken
himself by it? Why then should I give myself the trouble to prove, what
you, and the World are already convinc'd of? and since after near twenty
Years having been libell'd by our Daily-paper Scriblers, I never was so
hurt, as to give them one single Answer, why would you have me seem to
be more sore now, than at any other time?
As to those dull Fellows, they granted my Silence was right; yet they
could not but think Mr. _Pope_ was too eminent an Author to justify my
equal Contempt of him; and that a Disgrace, from such a Pen, might stick
upon me to Posterity: In fine, that though I could not be rouz'd from my
Indifference, in regard to myself, yet for the particular Amusement of
my Acquaintance, they desired I would enter the Lists with you;
notwithstanding I am under the Disadvantage of having only the blunt
and weak weapon of Prose, to oppose you, or defend myself, against the
Sharpness of Verse, and that in the Hand of so redoubted an Author as
Mr. _Pope_.
Their spiriting me up to this unequal Engagement, I doubt is but an ill
Compliment to my Skill, or my Discretion; or, at best, seems but to put
me upon a level with a famous Boxer at the _Bear-Garden_, called _Rugged
and Tough_, who would stand being drubb'd for Hours together, 'till
wearying out his Antagonist by the repeated Labour of laying him on, and
by keeping his own Wind (like the _Roman_ Combatant of old, who
conquer'd by seeming to fly) honest _Rugged_ sometimes came off
victorious. All I can promise therefore, since I am stript for the
Combat, is, that I will so far imitate this Iron-headed Hero (as the
_Turks_ called the late King of _Sweden_) as always to keep my Temper,
as he did his Wind, and that while I have Life, or am able to set Pen to
Paper, I will now, Sir, have the last Word with you: For let the Odds of
your Wit be never so great, or its Pen dipt in whatever Venom it may,
while I am conscious you can say nothing truly of me, that ought to put
an honest Man to the Blush, what, in God's Name, can I have to fear
from you? As to the Reputation of my Attempts, in Poetry, that has taken
its Ply long ago, and can now no more be lessened by your coldest
Contempt, than it can be raised by your warmest Commendation, were you
inclin'd to give it any: Every Man's Work must and will always speak
_For_, or _Against_ itself, whilst it has a remaining Reader in the
World. All I shall say then as to that Point, is, that I wrote more to
be Fed, than be Famous, and since my Writings still give me a Dinner, do
you rhyme me out of my Stomach if you can. And I own myself so contented
a Dunce, that I would not have even your merited Fame in Poetry, if it
were to be attended with half the fretful Solicitude you seem to have
lain under to maintain it; of which the laborious Rout you make about
it, in those Loads of Prose Rubbish, wherewith you have almost smother'd
your _Dunciad_, is so sore a Proof: And though I grant it a better Poem
of its Kind, than ever was writ; yet when I read it, with those
vain-glorious encumbrances of Notes, and Remarks, upon almost every Line
of it, I find myself in the uneasy Condition I was once in at an Opera,
where sitting with a silent Desire to hear a favourite Air, by a famous
Performer, a Coxcombly Connoisseur, at my Elbow, was so fond of shewing
his own Taste, that by his continual Remarks, and prating in Praise of
every Grace and Cadence, my Attention and Pleasure in the Song was quite
lost and confounded.
It is almost amazing, that you, who have writ with such masterly Spirit,
upon the _Ruling Passion_, should be so blind a Slave to your own, as
not to have seen, how far a low Avarice of Praise might prejudice, or
debase that valuable Character, which your Works, without your own
commendatory Notes upon them, might have maintained. _Laus propria
sordet_, is a Line we learn in our Infancy. How applicable to your self
then is what you say of another Person, _viz._
_Whose Ruling Passion is the lust of Praise;
Born, with whate'er could win it from the Wise,
Women and Fools must like him, or he dies._
Epist. to Ld. _Cobham_ Vers. 183.
How easily now can you see the Folly in another, which you yourself are
so fond of? Why, Sir, the very Jealousy of Fame, which (in the best
cruel Verses that ever fell from your Pen) you have with so much
Asperity reproved in _Addison_ (_Atticus_ I mean) falls still short of
yours, for though you impute it to him as a Crime, That he could----
_Bear, like the_ Turk, _no Brother near the Throne._
Vers. 190 of the same Epist.
Yet you, like outragious _Nero_, are for whipping and branding every
poor Dunce in your Dominions, that had the stupid Insolence not to like
you, or your Musick! If this is not a greater Tyranny than that of your
_Atticus_, at least you must allow it more ridiculous: For what have you
gain'd by it? a mighty Matter! a Victory over a parcel of poor Wretches,
that were not able to hurt or resist you, so weak, it was almost
Cowardice to conquer them; or if they actually _did_ hurt you, how much
weaker have you shewn yourself in so openly owning it? Besides, your
Conduct seems hardly reconcileable to your own Opinion: For after you
have lash'd them (in your Epistle to Dr. _Arburthnot_, ver. 84.) you
excuse the Cruelty of it in the following Line.
------_Take it for a Rule,
No Creature smarts so little as a Fool._
Now if this be true, to what purpose did you correct them? For wise Men,
without your taking such Pains to tell them, knew what they were
before. And that publick-spirited Pretence of your only chastising them,
_in terrorem_ to others of the same malicious Disposition, I doubt is
but too thin a Disguise of the many restless Hours they have given you.
If your Revenge upon them was necessary, we must own you have amply
enjoy'd it: But to make that Revenge the chief Motive of writing your
_Dunciad_, seems to me a Weakness, that an Author of your Abilities
should rather have chosen to conceal. A Man might as well triumph for
his having kill'd so many silly Flies that offended him. Could you have
let them alone, by this time, poor Souls, they had been all peaceably
buried in Oblivion! But the very Lines, you have so sharply pointed to
destroy them, will now remain but so many of their Epitaphs, to transmit
their Names to Posterity: Which probably too they may think a more
eligible Fate than that of being totally forgotten. Hear what an Author
of great Merit, though of less Anxiety for Fame, says upon this
Weakness,
_Fame is a Bubble, the Reserv'd enjoy,
Who strive to grasp it, as they touch, destroy._
Y-- Univers. Passion.
In a word, you seem in your _Dunciad_, to have been angry at the rain
for wetting you, why then would you go into it? You could not but know,
that an Author, when he publishes a Work, exposes himself to all
Weathers. He then that cannot bear the worst, should stay at home, and
not write at all.
But Sir--That _Cibber_ ever murmured at your Fame, or endeavoured to
blast it, or that he was not always, to the best of his Judgment, as
warm an Admirer of your Writings as any of your nearest Friends could
be, is what you cannot, by any one Fact or Instance, disprove. How comes
it then, that in your Works you have so often treated him as a Dunce or
an Enemy? Did he at all intrench upon your Sovereignty in Verse, because
he had now and then written a Comedy that succeeded? Or could not you
bear, that any kind of Poetry, but that, to which you chiefly pretended,
should meet with Applause? Or was it, that he had an equal Reputation
for Acting his own Characters as for Writing them, or that with such
inferior Talents he was admitted to as good Company as you, with your
superior, could get into; or what other offensive Merit had he, that has
so often made him the Object of your Contempt or Envy? It could not be,
sure, simple Ill-nature, that incited you, because in the Preface to
your _Dunciad_ you declare that you have------
"In this Poem attacked no Man living, who had not before printed,
or published some Scandal against you."
How comes it, I say, that you have so often fallen foul upon _Cibber_
then, against whom you have no Complaint, nor whose Name is so much as
mentioned in the printed List you have given us of all those high
Offenders, you so imperiously have proscribed and punish'd. Under this
Class at least, you acquit him of having ever provoked you?
But in your Notes, to this Preface (that is, in your Notes upon Notes)
from this general Declaration, you make an Exception,--"Of two, or three
Persons only, whose Dulness or Scurrility all Mankind agreed, to have
justly intitled them to a Place in the _Dunciad_." Here then, or no
where, you ground your Pretence of taking Me into it! Now let us enquire
into the Justness of this Pretence, and whether Dulness in one Author
gives another any right to abuse him for it? No sure! Dulness can be no
Vice or Crime, or is at worst but a Misfortune, and you ought no more
to censure or revile him for it, than for his being blind or lame; the
Cruelty or Injustice will be evidently equal either way. But if you
please I will wave this part of my Argument, and for once take no
advantage of it; but will suppose Dulness to be actually Criminal, and
then will leave it to your own Conscience, to declare, whether you
really think I am generally so guilty of it, as to deserve the Name of
the Dull Fellow you make of me. Now if the Reader will call upon My
Conscience to speak to the Question, I do from my Heart solemnly
declare, that I don't believe you _do_ think so of me. This I grant may
be Vanity in me to say: But if what I believe is true, what a slovenly
Conscience do you shew your Face with?
Now, Sir, as for my Scurrility, when ever a Proof can be produced, that
I have been guilty of it to you, or any one Man living, I will
shamefully unsay all I have said, and confess I have deserv'd the
various Names you have call'd me.
Having therefore said enough to clear my self of any Ill-will or Enmity
to Mr. _Pope_, I should be glad he were able equally to acquit himself
to Me, that I might not suppose the satyrical Arrows he has shot at me,
to have flown from that Malignity of Mind, which the talking World is so
apt to accuse him of. In the mean while, it may be worth the trouble to
weigh the Truth, or Validity of the Wit he has bestow'd upon me, that it
may appear, which of us is the worse Man for it; He, for his unprovoked
Endeavour to vilify and expose me, or--I, for my having or having not
deserv'd it.
I could wish it might be observed then, by those who have read the Works
of Mr. _Pope_, that the contemptuous Things he there says of me, are
generally bare positive Assertions, without his any sort of Evidence to
ground them upon: Why then, till the Truth of them is better prov'd,
should they stand for any more, than so many _gratis Dictums_? But I
hope I have given him fairer Play, in what I have said of him, and which
I intend to give him, in what I shall farther say of him; that is, by
saying nothing to his Disadvantage that has not a known Fact to support
it. This will bring our Cause to a fair Issue; and no impartial Reader,
then, can be at a loss on which side Equity should incline him to give
Judgment. But as in this Dispute I shall be oblig'd, sometimes to be
_Witness_, as well as _Accuser_, I am bound, in Conscience, not to
conceal any Fact, that may possibly mitigate, or excuse the resentful
manner, in which Mr. _Pope_ has publickly treated me. Now I am afraid,
that I once as publickly offended him, before a thousand Spectators; to
the many of them, therefore, who might be Witnesses of the Fact, I
submit, as to the most competent Judges, how far it ought, or ought not,
to have provoked him.
The Play of the _Rehearsal_, which had lain some few Years dormant,
being by his present Majesty (then Prince of _Wales_) commanded to be
revived, the Part of _Bays_ fell to my share. To this Character there
had always been allow'd such ludicrous Liberties of Observation, upon
any thing new, or remarkable, in the state of the Stage, as Mr. _Bays_
might think proper to take. Much about this time, then, _The Three Hours
after Marriage_ had been acted without Success; when Mr. _Bays_, as
usual, had a fling at it, which, in itself, was no Jest, unless the
Audience would please to make it one: But however, flat as it was, Mr.
_Pope_ was mortally sore upon it. This was the Offence. In this Play,
two Coxcombs, being in love with a learned Virtuoso's Wife, to get
unsuspected Access to her, ingeniously send themselves, as two
presented Rarities, to the Husband, the one curiously swath'd up like an
_Egyptian_ Mummy, and the other slily cover'd in the Paste-board Skin of
a Crocodile: upon which poetical Expedient, I, Mr. _Bays_, when the two
Kings of _Brentford_ came from the Clouds into the Throne again, instead
of what my Part directed me to say, made use of these Words, viz. "Now,
Sir, this Revolution, I had some Thoughts of introducing, by a quite
different Contrivance; but my Design taking air, some of your sharp
Wits, I found, had made use of it before me; otherwise I intended to
have stolen one of them in, in the Shape of a _Mummy_, and t'other, in
that of a _Crocodile_." Upon which, I doubt, the Audience by the Roar of
their Applause shew'd their proportionable Contempt of the Play they
belong'd to. But why am I answerable for that? I did not lead them, by
any Reflection of my own, into that Contempt: Surely to have used the
bare Word _Mummy_, and _Crocodile_, was neither unjust, or unmannerly;
Where then was the Crime of simply saying there had been two such things
in a former Play? But this, it seems, was so heinously taken by Mr.
_Pope_, that, in the swelling of his Heart, after the Play was over, he
came behind the Scenes, with his Lips pale and his Voice trembling, to
call me to account for the Insult: And accordingly fell upon me with all
the foul Language, that a Wit out of his Senses could be capable
of------How durst I have the Impudence to treat any Gentleman in that
manner? _&c. &c. &c._ Now let the Reader judge by this Concern, who was
the true Mother of the Child! When he was almost choked with the foam of
his Passion, I was enough recover'd from my Amazement to make him (as
near as I can remember) this Reply, _viz._ "Mr. _Pope_----You are so
particular a Man, that I must be asham'd to return your Language as I
ought to do: but since you have attacked me in so monstrous a Manner;
This you may depend upon, that as long as the Play continues to be
acted, I will never fail to repeat the same Words over and over again."
Now, as he accordingly found I kept my Word, for several Days following,
I am afraid he has since thought, that his Pen was a sharper Weapon than
his Tongue to trust his Revenge with. And however just Cause this may be
for his so doing, it is, at least, the only Cause my Conscience can
charge me with. Now, as I might have concealed this Fact, if my
Conscience would have suffered me, may we not suppose, Mr. _Pope_ would
certainly have mention'd it in his _Dunciad_, had he thought it could
have been of service to him? But as he seems, notwithstanding, to have
taken Offence from it, how well does this Soreness of Temper agree with
what he elsewhere says of himself?
_But touch me, and no Minister so sore._
1 Sat. 2 B. of Hor. ver. 76.
Since then, even his Admirers allow, that Spleen has a great share in
his Composition, and as Thirst of Revenge, in full Possession of a
conscious Power to execute it, is a Temptation, which we see the
Depravity of Human Nature is so little able to resist, why then should
we wonder, that a Man so easily hurt, as Mr. _Pope_ seems to be, should
be so frequently delighted in his inflicting those Pains upon others,
which he feels he is not himself able to bear? This is the only way I
can account for his having sometimes carried his satyrical Strokes
farther, than, I doubt, a true and laudable Satyrist would have thought
justifiable. But it is now time to open, what on my own part I have to
charge him with.
In turning over his Works of the smaller Edition, the eldest Date I
find, in print, of my being out of his Favour, is from an odd Objection
he makes to a, then, new Play of mine, _The Non-Juror_. In one of his
Letters to Mr. _Jervas_, p. 85. he writes thus----
"Your Acquaintance, on this side the Water, are under terrible
Apprehensions, from your long stay in _Ireland_, that you may grow
too polite for them; for we think (since the great Success of _such
a Play as the Non-Juror_) that Politeness is gone over the Water,
_&c._
(By the way, was not his Wit a little stiff and weary, when he strained
so hard to bring in this costive Reflection upon the _Non-Juror_? Dear
Soul! What terrible Apprehensions it gave him!) And some few Lines after
he cries out----
"Poor Poetry! the little that's left of thee, longs to cross the
Seas----
Modestly meaning, I suppose, he had a mind to have gone over himself! If
he had gone, and had carried with him those polite Pieces, _The What
d'ye call it_, and _The Three Hours after Marriage_ (both which he had
a hand in) how effectually had those elaborate Examples of the true
Genius given, to the _Dublin_ Theatre, the Glory of Dramatick Poetry
restor'd? But _Drury-Lane_ was not so favourable to him; for there alas!
(where the last of them was unfortunately acted) he had so sore a Rap o'
the Fingers, that he never more took up his Pen for the Stage. But this
is not fair, you will say: My shewing Mr. _Pope_'s want of Skill in
Comedy, is no excuse for the want of it in myself; which his Satyr
sometimes charges me with: at least, it must be owned, it is not an easy
thing to hit by his missing it. And indeed I have had some doubt, as
there is no personal Reflection in it, whether I ought to have mention'd
his Objection to _The Non-Juror_ at all; but as the Particularity of it
may let one a good deal into the Sentiments of Mr. _Pope_, I could not
refrain from bestowing some farther Notes upon it.
Well then! upon the great Success of this enormous Play, _The
Non-Juror_, poor Mr. _Pope_ laments the Decay of Poetry; though the
Impoliteness of the Piece is his only insinuated Objection against it.
How nice are the Nostrils of this delicate Critick! This indeed is a
Scent, that those wide-mouth'd Hounds the Daily-Paper Criticks could
never hit off! though they pursued it with the Imputation of every
Offence that could run down a Play: Yet Impoliteness at least they
oversaw. No! they did not disguise their real dislike, as the prudent
Mr. _Pope_ did; They all fairly spoke out, and in full Cry open'd
against it, only for its so audaciously exposing the sacred Character of
a lurking, treason-hatching Jesuit, and for inhumanly ridiculing the
conscientious Cause of an honest deluded Jacobite Gentleman. Now may we
not as well say to Mr. Pope, _Hinc illae lachrymae_! Here was his real
Disgust to the Play! For if Impoliteness could have so offended him, he
would never have bestowed such Encomiums upon the _Beggars Opera_, which
whatever Beauties it might boast, Politeness certainly was not one of
its most striking Features. No, no! if the Play had not so impudently
fallen upon the poor Enemies of the Government, Mr. _Pope_, possibly,
might have been less an Enemy to the Play: But he has a charitable
Heart, and cannot bear to see his Friends derided in their Distress:
Therefore you may have observed, whenever the Government censures a Man
of Consequence for any extraordinary Disaffection to it; then is Mr.
_Pope_'s time generously to brighten and lift him up with Virtues,
which never had been so conspicuous in him before. Now though he may be
led into all this, by his thinking it a Religious Duty; yet those who
are of a different Religion may sure be equally excused, if they should
notwithstanding look upon him as their Enemy. But to my Purpose.
Whatever might be his real Objections to it, Mr. _Pope_ is, at least, so
just to the Play, as to own it had great Success, though it grieved him
to see it; perhaps too he would have been more grieved, had he then
known, that his late Majesty, when I had the Honour to kiss his Hand,
upon my presenting my Dedication of it, was graciously pleased, out of
his Royal Bounty, to order me two hundred Pounds for it. Yes, Sir! 'tis
true--such was the Depravity of the Time, you will say, and so enormous
was the Reward of _such a Play as The Non-Juror_!