Banter, you at this time endeavoured to put upon me. This was the Fact I
had, not long before, been a Subscriber to your _Homer_: And now, to
make up our Poetical Accounts, as you call'd it, you sent me a Note,
with four Guineas inclosed, for four Tickets, for the Author's Day of
_such a Play as The Non-Juror_. So unexpected a Favour made me conclude,
there must be something at the bottom of it, which an indifferent Eye
might have overlooked: However I sent you the Tickets with a written
Acknowledgment; for I was willing you should think the kind Appearance
had passed upon me; though every Gentleman I told it to laugh'd at my
Credulity, wondering I should not see, you had plainly done this, in
scorn of my Subscription to your _Homer_. Which, to say the Truth, I
never had the least doubt of, but did not think myself so far obliged to
gratify your Pride, as to shew any sign of my feeling the Hurt you
intended me. Though, as this was in the Infancy of your Disinclination
to me, I confess, I might have been better pleased, would your Temper
have suffered me to have been upon better Terms with you: But so it is!
of such insensible Stuff am I made, that I have been rated by my
Friends, for not being surprized, or grieved at Disappointments. This I
only offer as an early Instance of our different Dispositions. My
Subscription had no Disguise, I thought it due to the Merit of Mr.
_Pope_: But that his Bounty to me rose from the same Motive, I am
afraid would be Vanity in me to suppose.
There is another whimsical Fact relating to this Play, which common
Fame, just after the Run of it, charged to Mr. _Pope_: Had I his
Sagacity in detecting concealed Authors, or his laborious Curiosity to
know them, I do not doubt but I might bring my Fact to a Proof upon him;
but let my Suspicion speak for itself. At this time then there came out
a Pamphlet (the Title I have forgot) but the given Name of the Author
was _Barnevelt_, which every body believed to be fictitious. The Purport
of this odd Piece of Wit was to prove, that _The Non-Juror_ in its
Design, its Characters, and almost every Scene of it, was a closely
couched Jacobite Libel against the Government: And, in troth, the Charge
was in some places so shrewdly maintained, that I almost liked the Jest
myself; at least, it was so much above the Spirit, and Invention of the
Daily-Paper Satyrists, that all the sensible Readers I met with, without
Hesitation gave it to Mr. _Pope_. And what afterwards left me no doubt
of it was, that he published the same Charge against his own _Rape of
the Lock_, proving even the Design of that too, by the same sort of
merry Innuendos, to have been as audacious a Libel, as the other
Pamphlet had made _The Non-Juror_. In a word, there is so much
Similitude of Stile, and Thought, in these two Pieces, that it is scarce
possible to give them to different Authors. 'Tis true, at first Sight,
there appears no great Motive for Mr. _Pope_ to have written either of
them, more than to exercise the Wantonness of his Fancy: But some People
thought, he might have farther Views in this Frolick. He might hope,
that the honest Vulgar would take literally, his making a Libel of _The
Non-Juror_, and from thence have a good Chance of his turning the Stream
of their Favour against it. As for his playing the same game with his
_Rape of the Lock_, that he was, at least, sure could do him no harm;
but on the contrary he might hope, that such a ludicrous Self-accusation
might soften, or wipe off any severe Imputation that had lain upon other
parts of his Writings, which had not been thought equally Innocent of a
real Disaffection. This way of owning Guilt in a wrong Place, is a
common Artifice to hide it in a right one. Now though every Reader is
not obliged to take all I have said for Evidence in this Case; yet there
may be others, that are not obliged to refuse it. Let it therefore
avail no more, than in reality it ought to do.
Since, as you say, in one of your Letters to Mr. _Addison_, "_To be
uncensured and to be obscure is the same thing_;" I hope then to appear
in a better Light, by quoting some of your farther Flirts at _The
Non-Juror_.
In your Correspondence with Mr. _Digby_ p. 150. complaining of People's
Insensibility to good Writing, you say (with your usual sneer upon the
same Play)
"The Stage is the only Place we seem alive at: There indeed we
stare, and roar, and clap Hands for King _George_ and the
Government.
This could be meant of no Play, but _The Non-Juror_, because no other
had made the Enemies of the King and Government so ridiculous; and
therefore, it seems, you think the Town as ridiculous to roar and clap
at it. But, Sir, as so many of the Government's Friends were willing to
excuse its Faults for the Honesty of its Intention; so, if you were not
of that Number, I do not wonder you had so strong a Reason to dislike
it. In the same Letter too, this wicked Play runs so much in your Head,
that in the favourable Character you there give of the Lady _Scudamore_,
you make it a particular Merit in her, that she had not then even
_Seen_ Cibber_'s Play of the_ Non-juror.
I presume, at least, she had heard Mr. _Pope_'s Opinion of it, and then
indeed the Lady might be in the right.
I suppose by this time you will say, I have tir'd your Patience; but I
do assure you I have not said so much upon this Head, merely to
commemorate the Applauses of _The Non-juror_, as to shew the World one
of your best Reasons for having so often publish'd your Contempt of the
Author. And yet, methinks, the Good-nature which you so frequently
labour to have thought a part of your Character, might have inclin'd you
to a little more Mercy for an old Acquaintance: Nay, in your Epistle to
Dr. _Arbuthnot_, ver. 373, you are so good as to say, you have been so
humble as to _drink with Cibber_. Sure then, such Humility might at
least have given the Devil his Due: for, black as I am, I have still
some Merit to you, in the profess'd Pleasure I always took in your
Writings? But alas! if the Friendship between yourself and Mr.
_Addison_, (which with such mutual Warmth you have profess'd in your
publish'd Letters) could not protect him from that insatiable Rage of
Satyr that so often runs away with you, how could so frivolous a Fellow
as I am (whose Friendship you never cared for) hope to escape it?
However, I still comfort myself in one Advantage I have over you, that
of never having deserved your being my Enemy.
You see, Sir, with what passive Submission I have hitherto complained to
you: but now give me leave to speak an honest Truth, without caring how
far it may displease you. If I thought, then, that your Ill-nature were
half as hurtful to me, as I believe it is to yourself, I am not sure I
could be half so easy under it. I am told, there is a Serpent in some of
the _Indies_, that never stings a Man without leaving its own Life in
the Wound: I have forgot the Name of it, and therefore cannot give it
you. Or if this be too hard upon you, permit me at least to say, your
Spleen is sometimes like that of the little angry Bee, which, in doing
less Mischief than the Serpent, yet (as _Virgil_ says) meets with the
same Fate.----_Animasque in vulnere ponunt._ Why then may I not wish you
would be advis'd by a Fact which actually happen'd at the _Tower_
Guard? An honest lusty Grenadier, while a little creeping Creature of an
Ensign, for some trifling Fault, was impotently laying him on with his
Cane, quietly folded his Arms across, and shaking his Head, only reply'd
to this valiant Officer, "Have a care, dear Captain! don't strike so
hard! upon my Soul you will hurt yourself!"
Now, Sir, give me leave to open your _Dunciad_, that we may see what
Work your Wit has made with my Name there.
When the Goddess of _Dulness_ is shewing her Works to her chosen Son,
she closes the Variety with letting him see, _ver._ 235.
_How, with less Reading than makes Felons 'scape
Less human Genius than God gives an Ape,
Small Thanks to_ France, _and none to_ Rome, _or_ Greece,
_A patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, reviv'd, new Piece,
'Twixt_ Plautus, Fletcher, Congreve _and_ Corneille,
_Can make a_ Cibber, Johnson, _or_ Ozell.
And pray, Sir, why my Name, under this scurvy Picture? I flatter myself,
that if you had not put it there, no body else would have thought it
like me, nor can I easily believe that you yourself do: but perhaps you
imagin'd it would be a laughing Ornament to your Verse, and had a mind
to divert other Peoples Spleen with it, as well as your own. Now let me
hold up my Head a little, and then we shall see how far the Features hit
me! If indeed I had never produc'd any Plays, but those I alter'd of
other Authors, your Reflexion then might have had something nearer an
Excuse for it: But yet, if many of those Plays have liv'd the longer for
my meddling with them, the Sting of your Satyr only wounds the Air, or
at best debases it to impotent Railing. For you know very well that
_Richard the Third_, _The Fop's Fortune_, _The Double Gallant_, and some
others, that had been dead to the Stage out of all Memory, have since
been in a constant course of Acting above these thirty or forty Years.
Nor did even _Dryden_ think it any Diminution of his Fame to take the
same liberty with _The Tempest_, and the _Troilus and Cressida_ of
_Shakespear_; and tho' his Skill might be superior to mine, yet while my
Success has been equal to his, why then will you have me so
ill-favouredly like the Dunce you have drawn for me? Or do those alter'd
Plays at all take from the Merit of those more successful Pieces, which
were entirely my own? Is a Tailor, that can make a new Coat well, the
worse Workman, because he can mend an old one? When a Man is abus'd, he
has a right to speak even laudable Truths of himself, to confront his
Slanderer. Let me therefore add, that my first Comedy of _The Fool in
Fashion_ was as much (though not so valuable) an Original, as any one
Work Mr. _Pope_ himself has produc'd. It is now forty-seven Years since
its first Appearance upon the Stage, where it has kept its Station, to
this very Day, without ever lying one Winter dormant. And what Part of
this Play, Sir, can you charge with a Theft either from any _French_
Author, from _Plautus_, _Fletcher_, _Congreve_, or _Corneille_? Nine
Years after this I brought on _The Careless Husband_, with still greater
Success; and was that too
_A patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, reviv'd, new Piece?_
Let the many living Spectators of these Plays then judge between us,
whether the above Verses, you have so unmercifully besmear'd me with,
were fit to come from the _honest Heart_ of a Satyrist, who would be
thought, like you, the upright Censor of Mankind. Indeed, indeed, Sir,
this Libel was below you! How could you be so wanting to yourself as not
to consider, that Satyr, without Truth, tho' flowing in the finest
Numbers, recoils upon its Author, and must, at other times, render him
suspected of Prejudice, even where he may be just; as Frauds, in
Religion, make more Atheists than Converts? And the bad Heart, Mr.
_Pope_, that points an Injury with Verse, makes it the more
unpardonable, as it is not the Result of sudden Passion, but of an
indulg'd and slowly meditating Ill-nature; and I am afraid yours, in
this Article, is so palpable, that I am almost asham'd to have made it
so serious a Reply.
What a merry mixt Mortal has Nature made you? that can thus debase that
Strength and Excellence of Genius she has endow'd you with, to the
lowest human Weakness, that of offering unprovok'd Injuries; nay, at the
Hazard of your being ridiculous too, as you must be, when the Venom you
spit falls short of your Aim! For I shall never believe your Verses have
done me the Harm you intended, or lost me one Friend, or added a single
Soul to the number of my Enemies, though so many thousands that know me,
may have read them. How then could your blind Impatience in your
_Dunciad_ thunder out such poetical _Anathemas_ on your own Enemies, for
doing you no worse Injuries than what you think it no Crime in yourself
to offer to another?
In your Remarks upon the above Verses, your Wit, unwilling to have done
with me, throws out an ironical Sneer at my Attempts in Tragedy: Let us
see how far it disgraces me.
After your quoting the following Paragraph from _Jacob's Lives of the
Dramatick Poets_, viz.
"Mr. _Colley Cibber_, an Author, and an Actor, of a good share of
Wit and uncommon Vivacity, which are much improv'd by the
Conversation he enjoys, which is of the best," _&c._
Then say you,
"Mr. _Jacob_ omitted to remark, that he is particularly admirable
in Tragedy."
Ay, Sir, and your Remark has omitted too, that (with all his
Commendations) I can't dance upon the Rope, or make a Saddle, nor play
upon the Organ.--Augh! my dear, dear Mr. _Pope_! how could a Man of your
stinging Capacity let so tame, so low a Reflexion escape him? Why this
hardly rises above the pretty Malice of Miss _Molly_--_Ay, ay, you may
think my Sister as handsome as you please, but if you were to see her
Legs--I know what I know_! And so, with all these Imperfections upon me,
the Triumph of your Observation amounts to this: That tho' you should
allow, by what _Jacob_ says of me, that I am good for something, yet you
notwithstanding have cunningly discover'd, that I am not good for _every
thing_. Well, Sir, and am not I very well off, if you have nothing worse
to say of me? But if I have made so many crowded Theatres laugh, and in
the right Place too, for above forty Years together, am I to make up the
Number of your Dunces, because I have not the equal Talent of making
them cry too? Make it your own Case: Is what you have excell'd in at all
the worse, for your having so dismally dabbled (as I before observ'd) in
the Farce of _Three Hours after Marriage_? _Non omnia possumus omnes_,
is an allow'd Excuse for the Insufficiencies of all Mankind; and if, as
you see, you too must sometimes be forc'd to take shelter under it, as
well as myself, what mighty Reason will the World have to laugh at my
Weakness in Tragedy, more than at yours in Comedy? Or, to make us Both
still easier in the matter, if you will say, you are not asham'd of your
Weakness, I will promise you not to be asham'd of mine. Or if you don't
like this Advice, let me give you some from the wiser _Spanish_ Proverb,
which says, _That a Man should never throw Stones, that has glass
Windows in his Head_.
Upon the whole, your languid Ill-will in this Remark, makes so sickly a
Figure, that one would think it were quite exhausted; for it must run
low indeed, when you are reduc'd to impute the want of an Excellence, as
a Shame to me. But in _ver._ 261, your whole Barrel of Spleen seems not
to have a Drop more in it, though you have tilted it to the highest: For
there you are forc'd to tell a downright Fib, and hang me up in a Light
where no body ever saw me: As for Example, speaking of the Absurdity of
Theatrical Pantomimes, you say
_When lo! to dark Encounter in mid Air
New Wizards rise: Here_ Booth, _and_ Cibber _there:_
Booth, _in his cloudy Tabernacle shrin'd,
On grinning Dragons_ Cibber _mounts the Wind._
If you, figuratively, mean by this, that I was an Encourager of those
Fooleries, you are mistaken; for it is not true: If you intend it
literally, that I was Dunce enough to mount a Machine, there is as
little Truth in that too: But if you meant it only as a pleasant Abuse,
you have done it with infinite Drollery indeed! Beside, the Name of
_Cibber_, you know, always implies Satyr in the Sound, and never fails
to keep the Flatness or Modesty of a Verse in countenance.
Some Pages after, indeed, in pretty near the same Light, you seem to
have a little negative Kindness for me, _ver._ 287, where you make poor
_Settle_, lamenting his own Fate, say,
_But lo! in me, what Authors have to brag on,
Reduc'd at last to hiss, in my own Dragon,
Avert it, Heav'n, that thou, or_ Cibber _e'er
Should wag two Serpent-Tails in_ Smithfield _Fair._
If this does not imply, that you think me fit for little else, it is
only another barren Verse with my Name in it: If it does mean so;
why----I wish you may never be toss'd in a Blanket, and so the Kindness
is even on both Sides. But again you are at me, _ver._ 320, speaking of
the King of Dunces Reign, you have these Lines:
_Beneath whose Reign,_ Eusden _shall wear the Bays,_
Cibber _preside Lord-Chancellor of Plays._
This I presume you offer as one of the heavy Enormities of the
Stage-Government, when I had a Share in it. But as you have not given
an Instance in which this Enormity appear'd, how is it possible (unless
I had your Talent of Self-Commendation) to bring any Proofs in my
Favour? I must therefore submit it to Publick Judgment how full your
Reflexion hits, or is wide of me, and can only say to it in the mean
time,--_Valeat quantum valere potest_.
In your Remark upon the same Lines you say,
"_Eusden_ no sooner died, but his Place of Laureat was supply'd by
_Cibber_, in the Year 1730, on which was made the following
Epigram." (May I not believe by yourself?)
_In merry_ Old England, _it once was a Rule,
The King had his Poet, and also his Fool.
But now we're so frugal, I'd have you to know it,
That_ Cibber _can serve both for Fool and for Poet._
Ay, marry Sir! here you souse me with a Witness! This is a Triumph
indeed! I can hardly help laughing at this myself; for, _Se non e vero,
ben Trovato_! A good Jest is a good Thing, let it fall upon who it will:
I dare say _Cibber_ would never have complain'd of Mr. _Pope_,
----_Si sic_
----_Omnia dixisset_------ Juv.
If he had never said any worse of him. But hold, Master _Cibber_! why
may not you as well turn this pleasant Epigram into an involuntary
Compliment? for a King's Fool was no body's Fool but his Master's, and
had not his Name for nothing; as for Example,
_Those Fools of old, if Fame says true,
Were chiefly chosen for their Wit;
Why then, call'd Fools? because, like you
Dear_ Pope, _too Bold in shewing it._
And so, if I am the King's Fool; now, Sir, pray whose Fool are you? 'Tis
pity, methinks, you should be out of Employment: for, if a satyrical
Intrepidity, or, as you somewhere call it, a _High Courage of Wit_, is
the fairest Pretence to be the _King's Fool_, I don't know a Wit in the
World so fit to fill up the Post as yourself.
Thus, Sir, I have endeavour'd to shake off all the Dirt in your
_Dunciad_, unless of here and there some little Spots of your Ill-will,
that were not worth tiring the Reader's Patience with my Notice of them.
But I have some more foul way to trot through still, in your Epistles
and Satyrs, _&c._ Now whether I shall come home the filthy Fellow, or
the clean contrary Man to what you make me, I will venture to leave to
your own _Conscience_, though I dare not make the same Trust to your
_Wit_: For that you have often _spoke_ worse (merely to shew your Wit)
than you could possibly _think_ of me, almost all your Readers, that
observe your Good-nature _will easily_ believe.
However, to shew I am not blind to your Merit, I own your Epistle to Dr.
_Arbuthnot_ (though I there find myself contemptibly spoken of) gives me
more Delight in the whole, than any one Poem of the kind I ever read.
The only Prejudice or wrong Bias of Judgment, I am afraid I may be
guilty of is, when I cannot help thinking, that your Wit is more
remarkably bare and barren, whenever it would fall foul upon _Cibber_,
than upon any other Person or Occasion whatsoever: I therefore could
wish the Reader may have sometimes considered those Passages, that if I
do you Injustice, he may as justly condemn me for it.
In this Epistle ver. 59. of your Folio Edition, you seem to bless
yourself, that you are not my Friend! no wonder then, you rail at me!
but let us see upon what Occasion you own this Felicity. Speaking of an
impertinent Author, who teized you to recommend his _Virgin Tragedy_ to
the Stage, you at last happily got rid of him with this Excuse----
_There (thank my Stars) my whole Commission ends,_
Cibber _and I, are luckily no Friends._
If you chose not to be mine, Sir, it does not follow, that it was
equally my Choice not to be yours: But perhaps you thought me your
Enemy, because you were conscious you had injur'd me, and therefore were
resolv'd never to forgive _Me_, because I had it in my Power to forgive
_You_: For, as _Dryden_ says,
_Forgiveness, to the Injur'd does belong;
But they ne'er pardon who have done the Wrong._
This, Sir, is the only natural Excuse, I can form, for your being my
Enemy. As to your blunt Assertion of my certain Prejudice to any thing,
that had your Recommendation to the Stage, which your above Lines would
insinuate; I gave you a late Instance in _The Miller of Mansfield_, that
your manner of treating Me had in no sort any Influence upon my
Judgment. For you may remember, sometime before that Piece was acted, I
accidentally met you, in a Visit to the late General _Dormer_, who,
though he might be your good Friend, was not for that Reason the less a
Friend to Me: There you join'd with that Gentleman, in asking my Advice
and Assistance in that Author's behalf; which as I had read the Piece,
though I had then never seen the Man, I gave, in such manner, as I
thought might best serve him: And if I don't over-rate my
Recommendation, I believe its way to the Stage was made the more easy by
it. This Fact, then, does in no kind make good your Insinuation, that my
Enmity to you would not suffer me to like any thing that you liked;
which though you call your good Fortune in Verse, yet in Prose, you see,
it happens not to be true. But I am glad to find, in your smaller
Edition, that your Conscience has since given this Line some Correction;
for there you have taken off a little of its Edge; it there runs only
thus----
The Play'rs _and I, are luckily no Friends._
This is so uncommon an Instance, of your checking your Temper and taking
a little Shame to yourself, that I could not in Justice omit my Notice
of it. I am of opinion too, that the Indecency of the next Verse, you
spill upon me, would admit of an equal Correction. In excusing the
Freedom of your Satyr, you urge that it galls no body, because nobody
minds it enough to be mended by it. This is your Plea----
_Whom have I hurt! has Poet yet, or Peer,
Lost the arched Eye-brow, or_ Parnassian _Sneer?
And has not_ Colley _too his Lord, and Whore?_ &c.
If I thought the Christian Name of _Colley_ could belong to any other
Man than myself, I would insist upon my Right of not supposing you meant
this last Line to Me; because it is equally applicable to five thousand
other People: But as your Good-will to me is a little too well known, to
pass it as imaginable that you could intend it for any one else, I am
afraid I must abide it.
Well then! _Colley has his Lord and Whore!_ Now suppose, Sir, upon the
same Occasion, that _Colley_ as happily inspired as Mr. _Pope_, had
turned the same Verse upon _Him_, and with only the Name changed had
made it run thus--
_And has not_ Sawney _too his Lord and Whore?_
Would not the Satyr have been equally just? Or would any sober Reader
have seen more in the Line, than a wide mouthful of Ill-Manners? Or
would my professing myself a Satyrist give me a Title to wipe my foul
Pen upon the Face of every Man I did not like? Or would my Impudence be
less Impudence in Verse than in Prose? or in private Company? What ought
I to expect less, than that you would knock me down for it? unless the
happy Weakness of my Person might be my Protection? Why then may I not
insist that _Colley_ or _Sawney_ in the Verse would make no Difference
in the Satyr! Now let us examine how far there would be Truth in it on
either Side.
As to the first Part of the Charge, the _Lord_; Why--we have both had
him, and sometimes the _same_ Lord; but as there is neither Vice nor
Folly in keeping our Betters Company; the Wit or Satyr of the Verse! can
only point at my Lord for keeping such _ordinary_ Company. Well, but if
so! then _why_ so, good Mr. _Pope_? If either of us could be _good_
Company, our being professed Poets, I hope would be no Objection to my
Lord's sometimes making one with us? and though I don't pretend to write
like you, yet all the Requisites to make a good Companion are not
confined to Poetry! No, Sir, even a Man's inoffensive Follies and
Blunders may sometimes have their Merits at the best Table; and in
those, I am sure, you won't pretend to vie with me: Why then may not my
Lord be as much in the Right, in his sometimes choosing _Colley_ to
laugh at, as at other times in his picking up _Sawney_, whom he can only
admire?
Thus far, then, I hope we are upon a par; for the Lord, you see, will
fit either of us.