In our own (excuse some courtly stains) No whiter page than Addison's remains, He from the taste obscene reclaims our youth, And sets the passions on the side of truth, Forms the soft bosom with the gentlest art, And pours each human virtue in the heart.

'Epistle to Augustus, II'. 215-220.

If Pope was unjust to Addison the man, he at least made amends to Addison the moralist.

The second passage that may have had an independent existence before the 'Epistle' was conceived is the portrait of Bufo, ll. 229-247. There is reason to believe that this attack was first aimed at Bubb Doddington, a courtier of Hervey's class, though hardly of so finished a type, to whom Pope alludes as Bubo in l. 278. When Pope was working on the 'Epistle', however, he saw an opportunity to vindicate his own independence of patronage by a satiric portrait of the great Maecenas of his younger days, Lord Halifax, who had ventured some foolish criticisms on Pope's translation of the 'Iliad', and seems to have expected that the poet should dedicate the great work to him in return for an offer of a pension which he made and Pope declined. There is no reason to believe that Pope cherished any very bitter resentment toward Halifax. On the contrary, in a poem published some years after the 'Epistle' he boasted of his friendship with Halifax, naming him outright, and adding in a note that the noble lord was no less distinguished by his love of letters than his abilities in Parliament.

The third passage, a tender reference to his mother's age and weakness, was written at least as early as 1731,—Mrs. Pope died in 1733,—and was incorporated in the 'Epistle' to round it off with a picture of the poet absorbed in his filial duties at the very time that Hervey and Lady Mary were heaping abuse upon him, as a monster devoid of all good qualities. And now having discussed the various insertions in the 'Epistle', let us look for a moment at the poem as a whole, and see what is the nature of Pope's defense of himself and of his reply to his enemies.

It is cast in the form of a dialogue between the poet himself and Arbuthnot. Pope begins by complaining of the misfortunes which his reputation as a successful man of letters has brought upon him. He is a mark for all the starving scribblers of the town who besiege him for advice, recommendations, and hard cash. Is it not enough to make a man write 'Dunciads?' Arbuthnot warns him against the danger of making foes (ll. 101- 104), but Pope replies that his flatterers are even more intolerable than his open enemies. And with a little outburst of impatience, such as we may well imagine him to have indulged in during his later years, he cries:

Why did I write? What sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents' or my own?

and begins with l. 125 his poetical autobiography. He tells of his first childish efforts, of poetry taken up "to help me thro' this long disease my life," and then goes on to speak of the noble and famous friends who had praised his early work and urged him to try his fortune in the open field of letters. He speaks of his first poems, the 'Pastorals' and 'Windsor Forest', harmless as Hervey's own verses, and tells how even then critics like Dennis fell foul of him. Rival authors hated him, too, especially such pilfering bards as Philips. This he could endure, but the coldness and even jealousy of such a man as Addison—and here appears the famous portrait of Atticus—was another matter, serious enough to draw tears from all lovers of mankind.

Passing on (l. 213) to the days of his great success when his 'Homer' was the talk of the town, he asserts his ignorance of all the arts of puffery and his independence of mutual admiration societies. He left those who wished a patron to the tender mercies of Halifax, who fed fat on flattery and repaid his flatterers merely with a good word or a seat at his table. After all, the poet could afford to lose the society of Bufo's toadies while such a friend as Gay was left him (l. 254).

After an eloquent expression of his wish for independence (ll. 261-270), he goes on to speak of the babbling friends who insist that he is always meditating some new satire, and persist in recognizing some wretched poetaster's lampoon as his. And so by a natural transition Pope comes to speak of his own satiric poems and their aims. He says, and rightly, that he has never attacked virtue or innocence. He reserves his lash for those who trample on their neighbors and insult "fallen worth," for cold or treacherous friends, liars, and babbling blockheads. Let Sporus (Hervey) tremble (l. 303). Arbuthnot interposes herewith an ejaculation of contemptuous pity; is it really worth the poet's while to castigate such a slight thing as Hervey, that "mere white curd"? But Pope has suffered too much from Hervey's insolence to stay his hand, and he now proceeds to lay on the lash with equal fury and precision, drawing blood at every stroke, until we seem to see the wretched fop writhing and shrieking beneath the whip. And then with a magnificent transition he goes on (ll. 332-337) to draw a portrait of himself. Here, he says in effect, is the real man that Sporus has so maligned. The portrait is idealized, of course; one could hardly expect a poet speaking in his own defense in reply to venomous attacks to dissect his own character with the stern impartiality of the critics of the succeeding century, but it is in all essentials a portrait at once impressive and true.

Arbuthnot again interrupts (l. 358) to ask why he spares neither the poor nor the great in his satire, and Pope replies that he hates knaves in every rank of life. Yet by nature, he insists, he is of an easy temper, more readily deceived than angered, and in a long catalogue of instances he illustrates his own patience and good nature (ll. 366-385). It must be frankly confessed that these lines do not ring true. Pope might in the heat of argument convince himself that he was humble and slow to wrath, but he has never succeeded in convincing his readers.

With l. 382 Pope turns to the defense of his family, which, as we have seen, his enemies had abused as base and obscure. He draws a noble picture of his dead father, "by nature honest, by experience wise" simple, modest, and temperate, and passes to the description of himself watching over the last years of his old mother, his sole care to

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye And keep a while one parent from the sky.

If the length of days which Heaven has promised those who honor father and mother fall to his lot, may Heaven preserve him such a friend as Arbuthnot to bless those days. And Arbuthnot closes the dialogue with a word which is meant, I think, to sum up the whole discussion and to pronounce the verdict that Pope's life had been good and honorable.

Whether that blessing [1] be deny'd or giv'n, Thus far was right, the rest belongs to Heav'n.

It seems hardly necessary to point out the merits of so patent a masterpiece as the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot'. In order to enjoy it to the full, indeed, one must know something of the life of the author, of the circumstances under which it was written, and, in general, of the social and political life of the time. But even without this special knowledge no reader can fail to appreciate the marvelous ease, fluency, and poignancy of this admirable satire. There is nothing like it in our language except Pope's other satires, and of all his satires it is, by common consent, easily the first. It surpasses the satiric poetry of Dryden in pungency and depth of feeling as easily as it does that of Byron in polish and artistic restraint. Its range of tone is remarkable. At times it reads like glorified conversation, as in the opening lines; at times it flames and quivers with emotion, as in the assault on Hervey, or in the defense of his parents. Even in the limited field of satiric portraiture there is a wide difference between the manner in which Pope has drawn the portrait of Atticus and that of Sporus. The latter is a masterpiece of pure invective; no allowances are made, no lights relieve the darkness of the shadows, the portrait is frankly inhuman. It is the product of an unrestrained outburst of bitter passion. The portrait of Atticus, on the other hand, was, as we know, the work of years. It is the product not of an outburst of fury, but of a slowly growing and intense dislike, which, while recognizing the merits of its object, fastened with peculiar power upon his faults and weaknesses. The studious restraint which controls the satirist's hand makes it only the more effective. We know well enough that the portrait is not a fair one, but we are forced to remind ourselves of this at every step to avoid the spell which Pope's apparent impartiality casts over our judgments. The whole passage reads not so much like the heated plea of an advocate as the measured summing-up of a judge, and the last couplet falls on our ears with the inevitability of a final sentence. But the peculiar merit of the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot' consists neither in the ease and polish of its style, nor in the vigor and effectiveness of its satire, but in the insight it gives us into the heart and mind of the poet himself. It presents an ideal picture of Pope, the man and the author, of his life, his friendships, his love of his parents, his literary relationships and aims. And it is quite futile to object, as some critics have done, that this picture is not exactly in accordance with the known facts of Pope's life. No great man can be tried and judged on the mere record of his acts. We must know the circumstances that shaped these, and the motives that inspired them. A man's ideals, if genuinely held and honestly followed, are perhaps even more valuable contributions to our final estimate of the man himself than all he did or left undone.

All I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.

And in the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot' we recognize in Pope ideals of independence, of devotion to his art, of simple living, of loyal friendship, and of filial piety which shine in splendid contrast with the gross, servile, and cynically immoral tone of the age and society in which he lived.



[Footnote 1: i. e. the blessing of Arbuthnot's future companionship, for which Pope (l. 413) had just prayed.]



ADVERTISEMENT

Dr. John Arbuthnot, one of Pope's most intimate friends, had been physician to Queen Anne, and was a man of letters as well as a doctor. Arbuthnot, Pope, and Swift had combined to get out a volume of Miscellanies in 1737. His health was failing rapidly at this time, and he died a month or so after the appearance of this 'Epistle'.

EPISTLE

'1 John:'

John Searle, Pope's faithful servant.

'4 Bedlam:'

a lunatic asylum in London in Pope's day. Notice how Pope mentions, in the same breath, Bedlam and Parnassus, the hill of the Muses which poets might well be supposed to haunt.

'8 thickets:'

the groves surrounding Pope's villa.

'Grot:'

see Introduction [grotto].

'10 the chariot:'

the coach in which Pope drove.

'the barge:'

the boat in which Pope was rowed upon the Thames.

'13 the Mint:'

a district in London where debtors were free from arrest. As they could not be arrested anywhere on Sunday, Pope represents them as taking that day to inflict their visits on him.

'15 Parson:'

probably a certain Eusden, who had some pretensions to letters, but who ruined himself by drink.

'17 Clerk:'

a law clerk.

'18 engross:'

write legal papers.

'19-20'

An imaginary portrait of a mad poet who keeps on writing verses even in his cell in Bedlam. Pope may have been thinking of Lee, a dramatist of Dryden's day who was confined for a time in this asylum.

'23 Arthur:'

Arthur Moore, a member of Parliament for some years and well known in London society. His "giddy son," James Moore, who took the name of Moore Smythe, dabbled in letters and was a bitter enemy of Pope.

'25 Cornus:'

Robert Lord Walpole, whose wife deserted him in 1734. Horace Walpole speaks of her as half mad.

'31 sped:'

done for.

'40'

Pope's counsel to delay the publication of the works read to him is borrowed from Horace: "nonumque prematur in annum" '(Ars Poetica, 388).'

'41 Drury-lane,'

like Grub Street, a haunt of poor authors at this time.

'43 before Term ends:'

before the season is over; that is, as soon as the poem is written.

'48 a Prologue:'

for a play. Of course a prologue by the famous Mr. Pope would be of great value to a poor and unknown dramatist.

'49 Pitholeon:'

the name of a foolish poet mentioned by Horace. Pope uses it here for his enemy Welsted, mentioned in l. 373.—'his Grace:' the title given a Duke in Great Britain. The Duke here referred to is said to be the Duke of Argyle, one of the most influential of the great Whig lords.

'53 Curll':

a notorious publisher of the day, and an enemy of Pope. The implication is that if Pope will not grant Pitholeon's request, the latter will accept Curll's invitation and concoct a new libel against the poet.

'60'

Pope was one of the few men of letters of his day who had not written a play, and he was at this time on bad terms with certain actors.

'62'

Bernard Lintot, the publisher of Pope's translation of Homer.

'66 go snacks':

share the profits. Pope represents the unknown dramatist as trying to bribe him to give a favorable report of the play.

'69 Midas':

an old legend tells us that Midas was presented with a pair of ass's ears by an angry god whose music he had slighted. His barber, or, Chaucer says, his queen, discovered the change which Midas had tried to conceal, and unable to keep the secret whispered it to the reeds in the river, who straightway spread the news abroad.

'75'

With this line Arbuthnot is supposed to take up the conversation. This is indicated here and elsewhere by the letter A.

'79 Dunciad':

see Introduction, p. xviii.

'85 Codrus':

a name borrowed from Juvenal to denote a foolish poet. Pope uses it here for some conceited dramatist who thinks none the less of himself because his tragedy is rejected with shouts of laughter.

'96'

Explain the exact meaning of this line.

'97 Bavius':

a stock name for a bad poet. See note on 'Essay on Criticism', l. 34.

'98 Philips':

Ambrose Philips, author among other things of a set of 'Pastorals' that appeared in the same volume with Pope, 1709. Pope and he soon became bitter enemies. He was patronized by a Bishop Boulter.

'99 Sappho':

Here as elsewhere Pope uses the name of the Greek poetess for his enemy, Lady Mary Wortley Montague.

'109 Grubstreet':

a wretched street in London, inhabited in Pope's day by hack writers, most of whom were his enemies.

'111 Curll'

(see note to l. 53) had printed a number of Pope's letters without the poet's consent some years before this poem was written.

'113-132'

Pope here describes the flatterers who were foolish enough to pay him personal compliments. They compare him to Horace who was short like Pope, though fat, and who seems to have suffered from colds; also to Alexander, one of whose shoulders was higher than the other, and to Ovid, whose other name, Naso, might indicate that long noses were a characteristic feature of his family. Pope really had large and beautiful eyes. Maro, l. 122, is Virgil.

'123'

With this line Pope begins an account of his life as a poet. For his precocity, see Introduction, p. xii.

'129 ease:'

amuse, entertain.

'friend, not Wife:'

the reference is, perhaps, to Martha Blount, Pope's friend, and may have been meant as a contradiction of his reported secret marriage to her.

'132 to bear:'

to endure the pains and troubles of an invalid's life.

'133 Granville:'

George Granville, Lord Lansdowne, a poet and patron of letters to whom Pope had dedicated his 'Windsor Forest.'

'134 Walsh:'

see note on 'Essay on Criticism,' l. 729.

'135 Garth:'

Sir Samuel Garth, like Arbuthnot, a doctor, a man of letters, and an early friend of Pope.

'137'

Charles Talbot, Duke of Shrewsbury; John, Lord Somers; and John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham; all leading statesmen and patrons of literature in Queen Anne's day.

'138 Rochester:'

Francis Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, an intimate friend of Pope.

'139 St. John:'

Bolingbroke. For Pope's relations with him, see introduction to the 'Essay on Man,' p. 116.

'143'

Gilbert Burnet and John Oldmixon had written historical works from the Whig point of view. Roger Cooke, a now forgotten writer, had published a 'Detection of the Court and State of England.' Pope in a note on this line calls them all three authors of secret and scandalous history.

'146'

The reference is to Pope's early descriptive poems, the 'Pastorals' and 'Windsor Forest.'

'147 gentle Fanny's:'

a sneer at Lord Hervey's verses. See the introduction to this poem, p. 126.

'149 Gildon:'

a critic of the time who had repeatedly attacked Pope. The poet told Spence that he had heard Addison gave Gildon ten pounds to slander him.

'151 Dennis:'

see note on 'Essay on Criticism.' l. 270.

'156 kiss'd the rod:'

Pope was sensible enough to profit by the criticisms even of his enemies. He corrected several passages in the 'Essay on Criticism' which Dennis had properly found fault with.

'162 Bentley:'

the most famous scholar of Pope's day. Pope disliked him because of his criticism of the poet's translation of the 'Iliad', "good verses, but not Homer." The epithet "slashing" refers to Bentley's edition of 'Paradise Lost' in which he altered and corrected the poet's text to suit his own ideas.

'Tibbalds':

Lewis Theobald (pronounced Tibbald), a scholar who had attacked Pope's edition of Shakespeare. Pope calls him "piddling" because of his scrupulous attention to details.

'177 The Bard':

Philips, see note on l. 98. Pope claimed that Philips's 'Pastorals' were plagiarized from Spenser, and other poets. Philips, also, translated some 'Persian Tales' for the low figure of half a crown apiece.

'187 bade translate':

suggested that they translate other men's work, since they could write nothing valuable of their own.

'188 Tate':

a poetaster of the generation before Pope. He is remembered as the part author of a doggerel version of the Psalms.

'191-212'

For a discussion of this famous passage, see introduction to the 'Epistle' p. 130.

'196 the Turk':

it was formerly the practice for a Turkish monarch when succeeding to the throne to have all his brothers murdered so as to do away with possible rivals.

'199 faint praise':

Addison was hearty enough when he cared to praise his friends. Pope is thinking of the coldness with which Addison treated his 'Pastorals' as compared to those of Philips.

'206 oblig'd':

note the old-fashioned pronunciation to rhyme with "besieged."

'207 Cato':

an unmistakable allusion to Addison's tragedy in which the famous Roman appears laying down the law to the remnants of the Senate.

'209 Templars':

students of law at the "Temple" in London who prided themselves on their good taste in literature. A body of them came on purpose to applaud 'Cato' on the first night.

'raise':

exalt, praise.

'211-212 laugh ... weep':

explain the reason for these actions.

'Atticus':

Addison's name was given in the first version of this passage. Then it was changed to "A—-n." Addison had been mentioned in the 'Spectator' (No. 150) under the name of Atticus as "in every way one of the greatest geniuses the age has produced."

'213 rubric on the walls':

Lintot, Pope's old publisher, used to stick up the titles of new books in red letters on the walls of his shop.

'214 with claps':

with clap-bills, posters.

'215 smoking:'

hot from the press.

'220 George:'

George II, king of England at this time. His indifference to literature was notorious.

'228 Bufo:'

the picture of a proud but grudging patron of letters which follows was first meant for Bubb Doddington, a courtier and patron of letters at the time the poem was written. In order to connect it more closely with the time of which he was writing, Pope added ll. 243-246, which pointed to Charles Montague, Earl of Halifax. Halifax was himself a poet and affected to be a great patron of poetry, but his enemies accused him of only giving his clients "good words and good dinners." Pope tells an amusing story of Montague's comments on his translation of the 'Iliad' (Spence, 'Anecdotes', p. 134). But Halifax subscribed for ten copies of the translation, so that Pope, at least, could not complain of his lack of generosity.

'Castalian state:'

the kingdom of poets.

'232'

His name was coupled with that of Horace as a poet and critic.

'234 Pindar without a head:'

some headless statue which Bufo insisted was a genuine classic figure of Pindar, the famous Greek lyric poet.

'237 his seat:'

his country seat.

'242 paid in kind:'

What does this phrase mean?

'243'

Dryden died in 1700. He had been poor and obliged to work hard for a living in his last years, but hardly had to starve. Halifax offered to pay the expenses of his funeral and contribute five hundred pounds for a monument, and Pope not unreasonably suggests that some of this bounty might have been bestowed on Dryden in his lifetime.

'249'

When a politician wants a writer to put in a day's work in defending him. Walpole, for example, who cared nothing for poetry, spent large sums in retaining writers to defend him in the journals and pamphlets of the day.

'254'

John Gay, the author of some very entertaining verses, was an intimate friend of Pope. On account of some supposed satirical allusions his opera 'Polly' was refused a license, and when his friends, the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry (see l. 260) solicited subscriptions for it in the palace, they were driven from the court. Gay died in 1732, and Pope wrote an epitaph for his tomb in Westminster Abbey. It is to this that he alludes in l. 258.

'274'

Balbus is said to mean the Earl of Kinnoul, at one time an acquaintance of Pope and Swift.

'278'

Sir William Yonge, a Whig politician whom Pope disliked. He seems to have written occasional verses. Bubo is Bubo Doddington (see note on l 230).

'297-298'

In the Fourth Moral Essay, published in 1731 as an 'Epistle to the Earl of Burlington', Pope had given a satirical description of a nobleman's house and grounds, adorned and laid out at vast expense, but in bad taste. Certain features of this description were taken from Canons, the splendid country place of the Duke of Chandos, and the duke was at once identified by a scandal-loving public with the Timon of the poem. In the description Pope speaks of the silver bell which calls worshipers to Timon's chapel, and of the soft Dean preaching there "who never mentions Hell to ears polite." In this passage of the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot' he is protesting against the people who swore that they could identify the bell and the Dean as belonging to the chapel at Canons.

'303 Sporus':

a favorite of Nero, used here for Lord Hervey. See introduction to this poem, p. 128.

'304 ass's milk':

Hervey was obliged by bad health to keep a strict diet, and a cup of ass's milk was his daily drink.

'308 painted child':

Hervey was accustomed to paint his face like a woman.

'317-319'

Pope is thinking of Milton's striking description of Satan "squat like a toad" by the ear of the sleeping Eve ('Paradise Lost', IV, 800). In this passage "Eve" refers to Queen Caroline with whom Hervey was on intimate terms. It is said that he used to have a seat in the queen's hunting chaise "where he sat close behind her perched at her ear."

'322 now master up, now miss':

Pope borrowed this telling phrase from a pamphlet against Hervey written by Pulteney, a political opponent, in which the former is called "a pretty little master-miss."

'326 the board':

the Council board where Hervey sat as member of the Privy Council.

'328-329'

An allusion to the old pictures of the serpent in Eden with a snake's body and a woman's, or angel's, face.

'330 parts':

talents, natural gifts.

'338-339'

An allusion to Pope's abandoning the imaginative topics to his early poems, as the 'Pastorals' and 'The Rape of the Lock', and turning to didactic verse as in the 'Essay on Man', and the 'Moral Epistles'.

'347'

An allusion to a story circulated, in an abusive pamphlet called 'A Pop upon Pope', that the poet had been whipped for his satire and that he had cried like a child.

'349'

Dull and scandalous poems printed under Pope's name, or attributed to him by his enemies.

'351 the pictur'd shape':

Pope was especially hurt by the caricatures which exaggerated his personal deformity.

'353 A friend in exile':

probably Bishop Atterbury, then in exile for his Jacobite opinions.

'354-355'

Another reference to Hervey who was suspected of poisoning the mind of the King against Pope.

'361 Japhet':

Japhet Crooke, a notorious forger of the time. He died in prison in 1734, after having had his nose slit and ears cropped for his crimes; see below, l. 365.

'363 Knight of the post':

a slang term for a professional witness ready to, swear to anything for money. A knight of the shire, on the other hand, is the representative of a county in the House of Commons.

'367 bit':

tricked, taken in, a piece of Queen Anne slang. The allusion is probably to the way in which Lady Mary Wortley Montague allowed Pope to make love to her and then laughed at him.

'369 friend to his distress':

in 1733, when old Dennis was in great poverty, a play was performed for his benefit, for which Pope obligingly wrote a prologue.

'371'

Colley Gibber, actor and poet laureate. Pope speaks as if it were an act of condescension for him to have drunk with Gibber.—'Moore': James Moore Smythe (see note on l. 23), whom Pope used to meet at the house of the Blounts. He wrote a comedy, 'The Rival Modes', in which he introduced six lines that Pope had written. Pope apparently had given him leave to do so, and then retracted his permission. But Moore used them without the permission and an undignified quarrel arose as to the true authorship of the passage.

'373 Welsted',

a hack writer of the day, had falsely charged Pope with being responsible for the death of the lady who is celebrated in Pope's 'Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady'.

'374-375'

There is an allusion here that has never been fully explained. Possibly the passage refers to Teresa Blount whom Pope suspected of having circulated slanderous reports concerning his relations with her sister.

'376-377'

Suffered Budgell to attribute to his (Pope's) pen the slanderous gossip of the 'Grub Street Journal',—a paper to which Pope did, as a matter of fact, contribute—and let him (Budgell) write anything he pleased except his (Pope's) will. Budgell, a distant cousin of Addison's, fell into bad habits after his friend's death. He was strongly suspected of having forged a will by which Dr. Tindal of Oxford left him a considerable sum of money. He finally drowned himself in the Thames.

'378 the two Curlls':

Curll, the bookseller, and Lord Hervey whom Pope here couples with him because of Hervey's vulgar abuse of Pope's personal deformities and obscure parentage.

'380 Yet why':

Why should they abuse Pope's inoffensive parents? Compare the following lines.

'383'

Moore's own mother was suspected of loose conduct.

'386-388 Of gentle blood ... each parent':

Pope asserted, perhaps incorrectly, that his father belonged to a gentleman's family, the head of which was the Earl of Downe. His mother was the daughter of a Yorkshire gentleman, who lost two sons in the service of Charles I (cf. l. 386).

'389 Bestia':

probably the elder Horace Walpole, who was in receipt of a handsome pension.

'391'

An allusion to Addison's unhappy marriage with the Countess of Warwick.

'393 The good man':

Pope's father, who as a devout Roman Catholic refused to take the oath of allegiance (cf. l. 395), or risk the equivocations sanctioned by the "schoolmen," 'i.e'. the Catholic casuists of the day (l. 398).

'404 Friend':

Arbuthnot, to whom the epistle is addressed.

'405-411'

The first draft of these appeared in a letter to Aaron Hill, September 3, 1731, where Pope speaks of having sent them "the other day to a particular friend," perhaps the poet Thomson. Mrs. Pope, who was very old and feeble, was of course alive when they were first written, but died more than a year before the passage appeared in its revised form in this 'Epistle'.

'412'

An allusion to the promise contained in the fifth commandment.

'415 served a Queen':

Arbuthnot had been Queen Anne's doctor, but was driven out of his rooms in the palace after her death.

'416 that blessing':

long life for Arbuthnot. It was, in fact, denied, for he died a month or so after the appearance of the 'Epistle'.



* * * * *

NOTES ON

ODE ON SOLITUDE

Pope says that this delightful little poem was written at the early age of twelve. It first appeared in a letter to his friend, Henry Cromwell, dated July 17, 1709. There are several variations between this first form and that in which it was finally published, and it is probable that Pope thought enough of his boyish production to subject it to repeated revision. Its spirit is characteristic of a side of Pope's nature that is often forgotten. He was, indeed, the poet of the society of his day, urban, cultured, and pleasure-loving; but to the end of his days he retained a love for the quiet charm of country life which he had come to feel in his boyhood at Binfield, and for which he early withdrew from the whirl and dissipations of London to the groves and the grotto of his villa at Twickenham.



* * * * *

NOTES ON

THE DESCENT OF DULLNESS

In the fourth book of the 'Dunciad', Pope abandons the satire on the pretenders to literary fame which had run through the earlier books, and flies at higher game. He represents the Goddess Dullness as "coming in her majesty to destroy Order and Science, and to substitute the Kingdom of the Dull upon earth." He attacks the pedantry and formalism of university education in his day, the dissipation and false taste of the traveled gentry, the foolish pretensions to learning of collectors and virtuosi, and the daringly irreverent speculations of freethinkers and infidels. At the close of the book he represents the Goddess as dismissing her worshipers with a speech which she concludes with "a yawn of extraordinary virtue." Under its influence "all nature nods," and pulpits, colleges, and Parliament succumb. The poem closes with the magnificent description of the descent of Dullness and her final conquest of art, philosophy, and religion. It is said that Pope himself admired these lines so much that he could not repeat them without his voice faltering with emotion. "And well it might, sir," said Dr. Johnson when this anecdote was repeated to him, "for they are noble lines." And Thackeray in his lecture on Pope in 'The English Humorists' says:

"In these astonishing lines Pope reaches, I think, to the very greatest height which his sublime art has attained, and shows himself the equal of all poets of all times. It is the brightest ardor, the loftiest assertion of truth, the most generous wisdom, illustrated by the noblest poetic figure, and spoken in words the aptest, grandest, and most harmonious."



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EPITAPH ON GAY

John Gay, the idlest, best-natured, and best-loved man of letters of his day, was the special friend of Pope. His early work, 'The Shepherd's Week', was planned as a parody on the 'Pastorals' of Pope's rival, Ambrose Philips, and Pope assisted him in the composition of his luckless farce, 'Three Hours after Marriage'. When Gay's opera 'Polly' was forbidden by the licenser, and Gay's patrons, the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, were driven from court for soliciting subscriptions for him, Pope warmly espoused his cause. Gay died in 1732 and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Pope's epitaph for his tomb was first published in the quarto edition of Pope's works in 1735—Johnson, in his discussion of Pope's epitaphs ('Lives of the Poets'), devotes a couple of pages of somewhat captious criticism to these lines; but they have at least the virtue of simplicity and sincerity, and are at once an admirable portrait of the man and a lasting tribute to the poet Gay.



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APPENDIX

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.

MART.



FIRST EDITION



CANTO I

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty quarrels rise from trivial things, I sing—This verse to C—l, Muse! is due: This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view: Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, 5 If she inspire, and he approve my lays.

Say what strange motive, goddess! could compel A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle? O say what stranger cause, yet unexplored, Could make a gentle belle reject a lord? 10 And dwells such rage in softest bosoms then, And lodge such daring souls in little men?

Sol through white curtains did his beams display, And ope'd those eyes which brighter shine than they, Shock just had giv'n himself the rousing shake, 15 And nymphs prepared their chocolate to take; Thrice the wrought slipper knocked against the ground, And striking watches the tenth hour resound. Belinda rose, and midst attending dames, Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames: 20 A train of well-dressed youths around her shone, And ev'ry eye was fixed on her alone: On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore. Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, 25 Quick as her eyes, and as unfixed as those: Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. 30 Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forgive 'em all.

This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, 35 Nourished two locks, which graceful hung behind In equal curls, and well conspired to deck With shining ringlets her smooth iv'ry neck. Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains, And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. 40 With hairy springes we the birds betray, Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey, Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare, And beauty draws us with a single hair.

Th' adventurous baron the bright locks admired; 45 He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired. Resolved to win, he meditates the way, By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; For when success a lover's toil attends, Few ask if fraud or force attained his ends. 50

For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored Propitious heav'n, and every pow'r adored, But chiefly Love—to Love an altar built, Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt. There lay the sword-knot Sylvia's hands had sewn 55 With Flavia's busk that oft had wrapped his own: A fan, a garter, half a pair of gloves, And all the trophies of his former loves. With tender billets-doux he lights the pire, And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire. 60 Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize: The pow'rs gave ear, and granted half his pray'r, The rest the winds dispersed in empty air.

Close by those meads, for ever crowned with flow'rs, 65 Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs, There stands a structure of majestic frame, Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name. Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home; 70 Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.

Hither our nymphs and heroes did resort, To taste awhile the pleasures of a court; In various talk the cheerful hours they passed, 75 Of who was bit, or who capotted last; This speaks the glory of the British queen, And that describes a charming Indian screen; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; At ev'ry word a reputation dies. 80 Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat, With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.

Now when, declining from the noon of day, The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray; When hungry judges soon the sentence sign, 85 And wretches hang that jurymen may dine; When merchants from th' Exchange return in peace, And the long labours of the toilet cease, The board's with cups and spoons, alternate, crowned, The berries crackle, and the mill turns round; 90 On shining altars of Japan they raise The silver lamp, and fiery spirits blaze: From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, While China's earth receives the smoking tide. At once they gratify their smell and taste, 95 While frequent cups prolong the rich repast. Coffee (which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes) Sent up in vapours to the baron's brain New stratagems, the radiant lock to gain. 100 Ah cease, rash youth! desist ere't is too late, Fear the just gods, and think of Scylla's fate! Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air, She dearly pays for Nisus' injured hair!

But when to mischief mortals bend their mind, 105 How soon fit instruments of ill they find! Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace A two-edged weapon from her shining case: So ladies, in romance, assist their knight, Present the spear, and arm him for the fight; 110 He takes the gift with rev'rence, and extends The little engine on his fingers' ends; This just behind Belinda's neck he spread, As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head. He first expands the glitt'ring forfex wide 115 T' enclose the lock; then joins it, to divide; One fatal stroke the sacred hair does sever From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!

The living fires come flashing from her eyes, And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies. 120 Not louder shrieks by dames to heav'n are cast, When husbands die, or lapdogs breathe their last; Or when rich china vessels, fall'n from high, In glitt'ring dust and painted fragments lie!

"Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine," 125 The victor cried, "the glorious prize is mine! While fish in streams, or birds delight in air, Or in a coach and six the British fair, As long as Atalantis shall be read, Or the small pillow grace a lady's bed, 130 While visits shall be paid on solemn days, When num'rous wax-lights in bright order blaze, While nymphs take treats, or assignations give, So long my honour, name, and praise shall live!"

What time would spare, from steel receives its date, 135 And monuments, like men, submit to fate! Steel did the labour of the gods destroy, And strike to dust th' aspiring tow'rs of Troy; Steel could the works of mortal pride confound, And hew triumphal arches to the ground. 140 What wonder then, fair nymph! thy hairs should feel The conqu'ring force of unresisted steel?



CANTO II

But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppressed, And secret passions laboured in her breast. Not youthful kings in battle seized alive, Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, Not ardent lover robbed of all his bliss, 5 Not ancient lady when refused a kiss, Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinned awry, E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravished hair. 10

While her racked soul repose and peace requires, The fierce Thalestris fans the rising fires. "O wretched maid!" she spread her hands, and cried, (And Hampton's echoes, "Wretched maid!" replied) "Was it for this you took such constant care 15 Combs, bodkins, leads, pomatums to prepare? For this your locks in paper durance bound? For this with tort'ring irons wreathed around? Oh had the youth been but content to seize Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these! 20 Gods! shall the ravisher display this hair, While the fops envy, and the ladies stare! Honour forbid! at whose unrivalled shrine Ease, pleasure, virtue, all, our sex resign. Methinks already I your tears survey, 25 Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost! How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend? 'T will then be infamy to seem your friend! 30 And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize, Exposed through crystal to the gazing eyes, And heightened by the diamond's circling rays, On that rapacious hand for ever blaze? Sooner shall grass in Hyde Park Circus grow, 35 And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow; Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall, Men, monkeys, lapdogs, parrots, perish all!"

She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs, And bids her beau demand the precious hairs: 40 Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane, With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, He first the snuff-box opened, then the case, And thus broke out—"My lord, why, what the devil! 45 Zounds! damn the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil! Plague on't! 't is past a jest—nay, prithee, pox! Give her the hair."—He spoke, and rapped his box.

"It grieves me much," replied the peer again, "Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain: 50 But by this lock, this sacred lock, I swear, (Which never more shall join its parted hair; Which never more its honours shall renew, Clipped from the lovely head where once it grew) That, while my nostrils draw the vital air, 55 This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear." He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread The long-contended honours of her head.

But see! the nymph in sorrow's pomp appears, Her eyes half-languishing, half drowned in tears; 60 Now livid pale her cheeks, now glowing red On her heaved bosom hung her drooping head, Which with a sigh she raised, and thus she said: "For ever cursed be this detested day, Which snatched my best, my fav'rite curl away; 65 Happy! ah ten times happy had I been, If Hampton Court these eyes had never seen! Yet am not I the first mistaken maid, By love of courts to num'rous ills betrayed. O had I rather unadmired remained 70 In some lone isle, or distant northern land, Where the gilt chariot never marked the way, Where none learn ombre, none e'er taste bohea! There kept my charms concealed from mortal eye, Like roses, that in deserts bloom and die. 75 What moved my mind with youthful lords to roam? O had I stayed, and said my pray'rs at home! 'Twas this the morning omens did foretell, Thrice from my trembling hand the patchbox fell; The tott'ring china shook without a wind, 80 Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind! See the poor remnants of this slighted hair! My hands shall rend what ev'n thy own did spare: This in two sable ringlets taught to break, Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck; 85 The sister-lock now sits uncouth, alone, And in its fellow's fate foresees its own; Uncurled it hangs, the fatal shears demands, And tempts once more thy sacrilegious hands."

She said: the pitying audience melt in tears; 90 But fate and Jove had stopped the baron's ears. In vain Thalestris with reproach assails, For who can move when fair Belinda fails? Not half so fixed the Trojan could remain, While Anna begged and Dido raged in vain. 95 "To arms, to arms!" the bold Thalestris cries, And swift as lightning to the combat flies. All side in parties, and begin th' attack; Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack; Heroes' and heroines' shouts confus'dly rise, 100 And bass and treble voices strike the skies; No common weapons in their hands are found, Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.

So when bold Homer makes the gods engage, And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage, 105 'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms, And all Olympus rings with loud alarms; Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around, Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound: Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way, 110 And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

While through the press enraged Thalestris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A beau and witling perished in the throng, One died in metaphor, and one in song. 115 "O cruel nymph; a living death I bear," Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, "Those eyes are made so killing"—was his last. Thus on Maeander's flow'ry margin lies 120 Th' expiring swan, and as he sings he dies.

As bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, Chloe stepped in, and killed him with a frown; She smiled to see the doughty hero slain, But at her smile the beau revived again. 125

Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside.

See fierce Belinda on the baron flies, 130 With more than usual lightning in her eyes: Nor feared the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold lord, with manly strength endued, She with one finger and a thumb subdued: 135 Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.

"Now meet thy fate," th' incensed virago cried, 140 And drew a deadly bodkin from her side.

"Boast not my fall," he said, "insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low; Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind; All that I dread is leaving you behind! 145 Rather than so, ah let me still survive, And still burn on, in Cupid's flames, alive."

"Restore the lock!" she cries; and all around "Restore the lock!" the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain 150 Roared for the handkerchief that caused his pain. But see how oft ambitious aims are crossed, And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost! The lock, obtained with guilt, and kept with pain, In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain: 155 With such a prize no mortal must be blessed, So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can contest? Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere, Since all that man e'er lost is treasured there. There heroes' wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 160 And beaux' in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers' hearts with ends of ribbon bound, The courtier's promises, and sick man's pray'rs, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 165 Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.

But trust the muse—she saw it upward rise, Though marked by none but quick poetic eyes: (Thus Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew, 170 To Proculus alone confessed in view) A sudden star, it shot through liquid air, And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright, The skies bespangling with dishevelled light. 175 This the beau monde shall from the Mall survey, } As through the moonlight shade they nightly stray, } And hail with music its propitious ray; } This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks through Galileo's eyes; 180 And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.

Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravished hair, Which adds new glory to the shining sphere! Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, 185 Shall draw such envy as the lock you lost. For after all the murders of your eye, When, after millions slain, yourself shall die; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, 190 This lock the muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.

THE END