they met. At first, a very cold civility, and nothing else appeared on
either side, for Mr. Addison had a natural reserve and gloom at the
beginning of an evening, which, by conversation and a glass, brightened
into an easy chearfulness. Sir Richard Steele, who was a most social
benevolent man, begged of him to fulfill his promise, in dropping all
animosity against Mr. Pope. Mr. Pope then desired to be made sensible
how he had offended; and observed, that the translation of Homer, if
that was the great crime, was undertaken at the request, and almost at
the command of Sir Richard Steele. He entreated Mr. Addison to speak
candidly and freely, though it might be with ever so much severity,
rather than by keeping up forms of complaisance, conceal any of his
faults. This Mr. Pope spoke in such a manner as plainly indicated he
thought Mr. Addison the aggressor, and expected him to condescend, and
own himself the cause of the breach between them. But he was
disappointed; for Mr. Addison, without appearing to be angry, was quite
overcome with it. He began with declaring, that he always had wished him
well, had often endeavoured to be his friend, and in that light advised
him, if his nature was capable of it, to divert himself of part of his
vanity, which was too great for his merit; that he had not arrived yet
to that pitch of excellence he might imagine, or think his most partial
readers imagined; that when he and Sir Richard Steele corrected his
verses, they had a different air; reminding Mr. Pope of the amendment
(by Sir Richard) of a line, in the poem called The MESSIAH.
He wipes the tears for ever from our eyes.
Which is taken from the prophet Isaiah,
The Lord God will wipe all tears from off all faces.
From every face he wipes off ev'ry tear.
And it stands so altered in the newer editions of Mr. Pope's works. He
proceeded to lay before him all the mistakes and inaccuracies hinted at
by the writers, who had attacked Mr. Pope, and added many things, which
he himself objected to. Speaking of his translation in general, he said,
that he was not to be blamed for endeavouring to get so large a sum of
money, but that it was an ill-executed thing, and not equal to Tickell,
which had all the spirit of Homer. Mr. Addison concluded, in a low
hollow voice of feigned temper, that he was not sollicitous about his
own fame as a poet; that he had quitted the muses to enter into the
business of the public, and that all he spoke was through friendship to
Mr. Pope, whom he advised to have a less exalted sense of his own merit.
Mr. Pope could not well bear such repeated reproaches, but boldly told
Mr. Addison, that he appealed from his judgment to the public, and that
he had long known him too well to expect any friendship from him;
upbraided him with being a pensioner from his youth, sacrificing the
very learning purchased by the public money, to a mean thirst of power;
that he was sent abroad to encourage literature, in place of which he
had always endeavoured to suppress merit. At last, the contest grew so
warm, that they parted without any ceremony, and Mr. Pope upon this
wrote the foregoing verses, which are esteemed too true a picture of Mr.
Addison.
In this account, and, indeed, in all other accounts, which have been
given concerning this quarrel, it does not appear that Mr. Pope was the
aggressor. If Mr. Addison entertained suspicions of Mr. Pope's being
carried too far among the enemy, the danger was certainly Mr. Pope's,
and not Mr. Addison's. It was his misfortune, and not his crime. If Mr.
Addison should think himself capable of becoming a rival to Mr. Pope,
and, in consequence of this opinion, publish a translation of part of
Homer; at the same time with Mr. Pope's, and if the public should decide
in favour of the latter by reading his translation, and neglecting the
other, can any fault be imputed to Mr. Pope? could he be blamed for
exerting all his abilities in so arduous a province? and was it his
fault that Mr. Addison (for the first book of Homer was undoubtedly his)
could not translate to please the public? Besides, was it not somewhat
presumptuous to insinuate to Mr. Pope, that his verses bore another face
when he corrected them, while, at the same time, the translation of
Homer, which he had never seen in manuscript, bore away the palm from
that very translation, he himself asserted was done in the true spirit
of Homer? In matters of genius the public judgment seldom errs, and in
this case posterity has confirmed the sentence of that age, which gave
the preference to Mr. Pope; for his translation is in the hands of all
readers of taste, while the other is seldom regarded but as a soil to
Pope's.
It would appear as if Mr. Addison were himself so immersed in party
business, as to contrast his benevolence to the limits of a faction:
Which was infinitely beneath the views of a philosopher, and the rules
which that excellent writer himself established. If this was the failing
of Mr. Addison, it was not the error of Pope, for he kept the strictest
correspondence with some persons, whose affections to the Whig-interest
were suspected, yet was his name never called in question. While he was
in favour with the duke of Buckingham, the lords Bolingbroke, Oxford,
and Harcourt, Dr. Swift, and Mr. Prior, he did not drop his
correspondence with the lord Hallifax, Mr. Craggs, and most of those who
were at the head of the Whig interest. A professed Jacobite one day
remonstrated to Mr. Pope, that the people of his party took it ill that
he should write with Mr. Steele upon ever so indifferent a subject; at
which he could not help smiling, and observed, that he hated narrowness
of soul in any party; and that if he renounced his reason in religious
matters, he should hardly do it on any other, and that he could pray not
only for opposite parties, but even for opposite religions. Mr. Pope
considered himself as a citizen of the world, and was therefore obliged
to pray for the prosperity of mankind in general. As a son of Britain he
wished those councils might be suffered by providence to prevail, which
were most for the interest of his native country: But as politics was
not his study, he could not always determine, at least, with any degree
of certainty, whose councils were best; and had charity enough to
believe, that contending parties might mean well. As taste and science
are confined to no country, so ought they not to be excluded from any
party, and Mr. Pope had an unexceptionable right to live upon terms of
the strictest friendship with every man of parts, to which party soever
he might belong. Mr. Pope's uprightness in his conduct towards
contending politicians, is demonstrated by his living independent of
either faction. He accepted no place, and had too high a spirit to
become a pensioner.
Many effects however were made to proselyte him from the Popish faith,
which all proved ineffectual. His friends conceived hopes from the
moderation which he on all occasions expressed, that he was really a
Protestant in his heart, and that upon the death of his mother, he would
not scruple to declare his sentiments, notwithstanding the reproaches he
might incur from the Popish party, and the public observation it would
draw upon him. The bishop of Rochester strongly advised him to read the
controverted points between the Protestant and the Catholic church, to
suffer his unprejudiced reason to determine for him, and he made no
doubt, but a separation from the Romish communion would soon ensue. To
this Mr. Pope very candidly answered, 'Whether the change would be to my
spiritual advantage, God only knows: This I know, that I mean as well in
the religion I now profess, as ever I can do in any other. Can a man who
thinks so, justify a change, even if he thought both equally good? To
such an one, the part of joining with any one body of Christians might
perhaps be easy, but I think it would not be so to renounce the other.
'Your lordship has formerly advised me to read the best controversies
between the churches. Shall I tell you a secret? I did so at 14 years
old (for I loved reading, and my father had no other books) there was a
collection of all that had been written on both sides, in the reign of
King James II. I warmed my head with them, and the consequence was, I
found myself a Papist, or a Protestant by turns, according to the last
book I read. I am afraid most seekers are in the same case, and when
they stop, they are not so properly converted, as outwitted. You see how
little glory you would gain by my conversion: and after all, I verily
believe, your lordship and I are both of the same religion, if we were
thoroughly understood by one another, and that all honest and reasonable
Christians would be so, if they did but talk enough together every day,
and had nothing to do together but to serve God, and live in peace with
their neighbours.
"As to the temporal side of the question, I can have no dispute with
you; it is certain, all the beneficial circumstances of life, and all
the shining ones, lie on the part you would invite me to. But if I could
bring myself to fancy, what I think you do but fancy, that I have any
talents for active life, I want health for it; and besides it is a real
truth. I have, if possible, less inclination, than ability.
Contemplative life is not only my scene, but is my habit too. I begun my
life where most people end theirs, with all that the world calls
ambition. I don't know why it is called so, for, to me, it always seemed
to be stooping, or climbing. I'll tell you my politic and religious
sentiments in a few words. In my politics, I think no farther, than how
to preserve my peace of life, in any government under which I live; nor
in my religion, than to preserve the peace of my conscience, in any
church with which I communicate. I hope all churches, and all
governments are so far of God, as they are rightly understood, and
rightly administered; and where they are, or may be wrong, I leave it to
God alone to mend, or reform them, which, whenever he does, it must be
by greater instruments than I am. I am not a Papist, for I renounce the
temporal invasions of the papal power, and detest their arrogated
authority over Princes and States. I am a Catholic in the strictest
sense of the word. If I was born under an absolute Prince, I would be a
quiet subject; but, I thank God, I was not. I have a due sense of the
excellence of the British constitution. In a word, the things I have
always wished to see, are not a Roman Catholic, or a French Catholic, or
a Spanish Catholic, but a True Catholic; and not a King of Whigs, or
[Transcriber's note: repeated 'or' removed] a King of Tories, but a King
of England."
These are the peaceful maxims upon which we find Mr. Pope conducted his
life, and if they cannot in some respects be justified, yet it must be
owned, that his religion and his politics were well enough adapted for a
poet, which entitled him to a kind of universal patronage, and to make
every good man his friend.
Dean Swift sometimes wrote to Mr. Pope on the topic of changing his
religion, and once humorously offered him twenty pounds for that
purpose. Mr. Pope's answer to this, lord Orrery has obliged the world by
preserving in the life of Swift. It is a perfect master-piece of wit and
pleasantry.
We have already taken notice, that Mr. Pope was called upon by the
public voice to translate the Iliad, which he performed with so much
applause, and at the same time, with so much profit to himself, that he
was envied by many writers, whose vanity perhaps induced them to believe
themselves equal to so great a design. A combination of inferior wits
were employed to write The Popiad, in which his translation is
characterized, as unjust to the original, without beauty of language, or
variety of numbers. Instead of the justness of the original, they say
there is absurdity and extravagance. Instead of the beautiful language
of the original, there is solecism and barbarous English. A candid
reader may easily discern from this furious introduction, that the
critics were actuated rather by malice than truth, and that they must
judge with their eyes shut, who can see no beauty of language, no
harmony of numbers in this translation.
But the most formidable critic against Mr. Pope in this great
undertaking, was the celebrated Madam Dacier, whom Mr. Pope treated with
less ceremony in his Notes on the Iliad, than, in the opinion of some
people, was due to her sex. This learned lady was not without a sense of
the injury, and took an opportunity of discovering her resentment.
"Upon finishing (says she) the second edition of my translation of
Homer, a particular friend sent me a translation of part of Mr. Pope's
preface to his Version of the Iliad. As I do not understand English, I
cannot form any judgment of his performance, though I have heard much of
it. I am indeed willing to believe, that the praises it has met with are
not unmerited, because whatever work is approved by the English nation,
cannot be bad; but yet I hope I may be permitted to judge of that part
of the preface, which has been transmitted to me, and I here take the
liberty of giving my sentiments concerning it. I must freely acknowledge
that Mr. Pope's invention is very lively, though he seems to have been
guilty of the same fault into which he owns we are often precipitated by
our invention, when we depend too much upon the strength of it; as
magnanimity (says he) may run up to confusion and extravagance, so may
great invention to redundancy and wildness.
"This has been the very case of Mr. Pope himself; nothing is more
overstrained, or more false than the images in which his fancy has
represented Homer; sometimes he tells us, that the Iliad is a wild
paradise, where, if we cannot see all the beauties, as in an ordered
garden, it is only because the number of them is infinitely greater.
Sometimes he compares him to a copious nursery, which contains the seeds
and first productions of every kind; and, lastly, he represents him
under the notion of a mighty tree, which rises from the most vigorous
seed, is improved with industry, flourishes and produces the finest
fruit, but bears too many branches, which might be lopped into form, to
give it a more regular appearance.
"What! is Homer's poem then, according to Mr. Pope, a confused heap of
beauties, without order or symmetry, and a plot whereon nothing but
seeds, nor nothing perfect or formed is to be found; and a production
loaded with many unprofitable things which ought to be retrenched, and
which choak and disfigure those which deserve to be preserved? Mr. Pope
will pardon me if I here oppose those comparisons, which to me appear
very false, and entirely contrary to what the greatest of ancient, and
modern critics ever thought.
"The Iliad is so far from being a wild paradise, that it is the most
regular garden, and laid out with more symmetry than any ever was. Every
thing herein is not only in the place it ought to have been, but every
thing is fitted for the place it hath. He presents you at first with
that which ought to be first seen; he places in the middle what ought to
be in the middle, and what would be improperly placed at the beginning
or end, and he removes what ought to be at a greater distance, to create
the more agreeable surprize; and, to use a comparison drawn from
painting, he places that in the greatest light which cannot be too
visible, and sinks in the obscurity of the shade, what does not require
a full view; so that it may be said, that Homer is the Painter who best
knew how to employ the shades and lights. The second comparison is
equally unjust; how could Mr. Pope say, 'that one can only discover
seeds, and the first productions of every kind in the Iliad?' every
beauty is there to such an amazing perfection, that the following ages
could add nothing to those of any kind; and the ancients have always
proposed Homer, as the most perfect model in every kind of poetry.
"The third comparison is composed of the errors of the two former; Homer
had certainly an incomparable fertility of invention, but his fertility
is always checked by that just sense, which made him reject every
superfluous thing which his vast imagination could offer, and to retain
only what was necessary and useful. Judgment guided the hand of this
admirable gardener, and was the pruning hook he employed to lop off
every useless branch."
Thus far Madam Dacier differs in her opinion from Mr. Pope concerning
Homer; but these remarks which we have just quoted, partake not at all
of the nature of criticism; they are meer assertion. Pope had declared
Homer to abound with irregular beauties. Dacier has contradicted him,
and asserted, that all his beauties are regular, but no reason is
assigned by either of these mighty geniuses in support of their
opinions, and the reader is left in the dark, as to the real truth. If
he is to be guided by the authority of a name only, no doubt the
argument will preponderate in favour of our countryman. The French lady
then proceeds to answer some observations, which Mr. Pope made upon her
Remarks on the Iliad, which she performs with a warmth that generally
attends writers of her sex. Mr. Pope, however, paid more regard to this
fair antagonist, than any other critic upon his works. He confessed that
he had received great helps from her, and only thought she had (through
a prodigious, and almost superstitious, fondness for Homer) endeavoured
to make him appear without any fault, or weakness, and stamp a
perfection on his works, which is no where to be found. He wrote her a
very obliging letter, in which he confessed himself exceedingly sorry
that he ever should have displeased so excellent a wit, and she, on the
other hand, with a goodness and frankness peculiar to her, protested to
forgive it, so that there remained no animosities between those two
great admirers and translators of Homer.
Mr. Pope, by his successful translation of the Iliad, as we have before
remarked, drew upon him the envy and raillery of a whole tribe of
writers. Though he did not esteem any particular man amongst his enemies
of consequence enough to provoke an answer, yet when they were
considered collectively, they offered excellent materials for a general
satire. This satire he planned and executed with so extraordinary a
mastery, that it is by far the most compleat poem of our author's; it
discovers more invention, and a higher effort of genius, than any other
production of his. The hint was taken from Mr. Dryden's Mac Flecknoe,
but as it is more general, so it is more pleasing. The Dunciad is so
universally read, that we reckon it superfluous to give any further
account of it here; and it would be an unpleasing task to trace all the
provocations and resentments, which were mutually discovered upon this
occasion. Mr. Pope was of opinion, that next to praising good writers,
there was a merit in exposing bad ones, though it does not hold
infallibly true, that each person stigmatized as a dunce, was genuinely
so. Something must be allowed to personal resentment; Mr. Pope was a man
of keen passions; he felt an injury strongly, retained a long
remembrance of it, and could very pungently repay it. Some of the
gentlemen, however, who had been more severely lashed than the rest,
meditated a revenge, which redounds but little to their honour. They
either intended to chastize him corporally, or gave it out that they had
really done so, in order to bring shame upon Mr. Pope, which, if true,
could only bring shame upon themselves.
While Mr. Pope enjoyed any leisure from severer applications to study,
his friends were continually solliciting him to turn his thoughts
towards something that might be of lasting use to the world, and engage
no more in a war with dunces who were now effectually humbled. Our great
dramatic poet Shakespear had pass'd through several hands, some of whom
were very reasonably judged not to have understood any part of him
tolerably, much less were capable to correct or revise him.
The friends of Mr. Pope therefore strongly importuned him, to undertake
the whole of Shakespear's plays, and, if possible, by comparing all the
different copies now to be procured, restore him to his ancient purity.
To which our poet made this modest reply, that not having attempted any
thing in the Drama, it might in him be deemed too much presumption. To
which he was answered, that this did not require great knowledge of the
foundation and disposition of the drama, as that must stand as it was,
and Shakespear [Transcriber's note: 'Skakespear' in original] himself
had not always paid strict regard to the rules of it; but this was to
clear the scenes from the rubbish with which ignorant editors had filled
them.
His proper business in this work was to render the text so clear as to
be generally understood, to free it from obscurities, and sometimes
gross absurdities, which now seem to appear in it, and to explain
doubtful and difficult passages of which there are great numbers. This
however was an arduous province, and how Mr. Pope has acquitted himself
in it has been differently determined: It is certain he never valued
himself upon that performance, nor was it a task in the least adapted to
his genius; for it seldom happens that a man of lively parts can undergo
the servile drudgery of collecting passages, in which more industry and
labour are necessary than persons of quick penetration generally have to
bestow.
It has been the opinion of some critics, that Mr. Pope's talents were
not adapted for the drama, otherwise we cannot well account for his
neglecting the most gainful way of writing which poetry affords,
especially as his reputation was so high, that without much ceremony or
mortification, he might have had any piece of his brought upon the
stage. Mr. Pope was attentive to his own interest, and if he had not
either been conscious of his inability in that province, or too timid to
wish the popular approbation, he would certainly have attempted the
drama. Neither was he esteemed a very competent judge of what plays were
proper or improper for representation. He wrote several letters to the
manager of Drury-Lane Theatre, in favour of Thomson's Agamemnon, which
notwithstanding his approbation, Thomson's friends were obliged to
mutulate and shorten; and after all it proved a heavy play.--Though it
was generally allowed to have been one of the best acted plays that had
appeared for some years.
He was certainly concerned in the Comedy, which was published in Mr.
Gay's name, called Three Hours after Marriage, as well as Dr. Arbuthnot.
This illustrious triumvirate, though men of the most various parts, and
extensive understanding, yet were not able it seems to please the
people, tho' the principal parts were supported by the best actors in
that way on the stage. Dr. Arbuthnot and Mr. Pope were no doubt
solicitous to conceal their concern in it; but by a letter which Gay
wrote to Pope, published in Ayre's Memoirs, it appears evident (if
Ayre's authority may be depended on) that they, both assisted in the
composition.
DEAR POPE,
'Too late I see, and confess myself mistaken in relation to the Comedy;
yet I do not think, had I followed your advice, and only introduced the
mummy, that the absence of the crocodile had saved it. I can't help
laughing myself (though the vulgar do not consider it was designed to
look ridiculous) to think how the poor monster and mummy were dashed at
their reception, and when the cry was loudest, I thought that if the
thing had been written by another, I should have deemed the town in some
measure mistaken; and as to your apprehension that this may do us future
injury, do not think of it; the Dr. has a more valuable name than can be
hurt by any thing of this nature; and your's is doubly safe. I will, if
any shame there be, take it all to myself, and indeed I ought, the
motion being first mine, and never heartily approved by you.'
Of all our poet's writings none were read with more general approbation
than his Ethic Epistles, or multiplied into more editions. Mr. Pope who
was a perfect oeconomist, secured to himself the profits arising from
his own works; he was never subjected to necessity, and therefore was
not to be imposed upon by the art or fraud of publishers.
But now approaches the period in which as he himself expressed it, he
stood in need of the generous tear he paid,
Posts themselves must fall like those they sung,
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Ev'n he whose soul now melts in mournful lays,
Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays.