Part 2

17. See _Twickenham_, II. 90, n. 1.

18. See, _inter alia_, _A Letter from Sir J____ B____ to Mr. P_____ (1716), p. 1; _The Female Dunciad_ (1728), p. 4; and the careful discussion in Norman Ault, _New Light on Pope_ (London, 1949), pp. 156-162.

19. See _Cythereia_ (1723), pp. 92-93; _Characters of The Times_ (1728), p. 29.

20. See Eliza Haywood, _Memoirs Of The Court of Lilliput_ (1727), p. 17; _A Collection Of Several Curious Pieces_ (1728), pp. 4, 6; James Ralph, _Sawney_ (1728), pp. 5-8.

21. See _Twickenham_, V. 440-441.

22. See Daniel A. Fineman, "The Case of the Lady 'Killed' by Alexander Pope," _MLO_, XII (1951), 137-149. Sutherland in his continuation of Pope's note confuses the two charges.

23. For the debate over the Latin inscription see _Twickenham_, VI. 395-396, and _The Gentleman's Magazine_, XI, 105.

24. See Pope's note to l. 319 of the _Epistle to Arbuthnot_.

25. Dennis, as far back as 1716, in _A True Character of Mr. Pope_, pp. 10-11, had used the metaphor. So had _An Epistle To the Egregious Mr. Pope_ (1734), pp. 15-16.

* * * * * * * * *

[Transcriber's Note:

The consecutive title pages are as in the original, as are the lines of closely spaced asterisks in the poem.

Format of notes reproduces the original as closely as possible. Long notes, marked with lower-case letters (a-l), were collected at the end of the text. Footnotes are here shown between stanzas. The original markers have been replaced with bracketed numerals.]

ONE

E P I S T L E

TO

Mr. _A. P O P E_,

Occasion'd By

Two Lately Publish'd.

[To be Continued.]

ONE

E P I S T L E

TO

Mr. _A. P O P E_,

Occasion'd By

Two Epistles Lately Published.

_Spiteful he is not, tho' he writ a Satire, For still there goes some Thinking to Ill-Nature._ DRYDEN.

_L O N D O N_:

Printed for J. ROBERTS, in _Warwick-Lane_.

[Price One Shilling.]

[Decoration]

THE

PREFACE.

_The indecent Images, and the frequent and bad Imitations of the Classics in the _Dunciad_, have occasioned several just Observations upon so new and coarse a Manner of Writing: I shall wave this Topic at present, and only regard the most plausible Insinuation in Favour of this Author; which is, that he never begun an Attack upon any Person, who had not before, either in Print or private Conversation, endeavour'd something to his Disadvantage._

_This Assertion is by no means true, as I shall immediately shew; if it were true, it might indeed bear some Weight, but however with this Distinction, that the Reports of private Conversation, brought to him by such Emissaries, as belong to him, are not always to be believed, and that no Attack in Print upon a Man's Poetical Character, ought to be repaid by Lampoon and Virulence upon the Moral Character of his Antagonist: Every Person has a Right to determine upon the Talents of Writers, particularly of one, who appears in Publick only to gratify the two worst Appetites, that disgrace Human Nature, I mean Malice and Avarice; and sure no Man deserves a violent Injury to his Reputation, as a Gentleman, because perhaps at a Distance of several Years since he might have said, that Mr. _Pope_ had nothing in him Original as a Writer, that Mr. _Tickel_ greatly excelled him in his Translation of _Homer_, and many of his Contemporaries in other Branches of Writing, and that he is infinitely inferior to Mr. _Phillips_ in Pastoral: And yet such Arguments or Apologies as these have been used by himself, or his Tea-Table Cabals, for calling Gentlemen Scoundrels, Blockheads, Gareteers, and Beggars,: If he can transmit them to Posterity under such Imputations, he is a bad Man; if he cannot, he is a bad Writer: I believe, that he would rather suffer under the first Character, than the last: But before I have done with him, I will make a very strict Inquiry into both._

_In the mean time I shall shew the Reader, in general, the Falshood of his main Pretence, that he has meddled with no one, that had not before hurt him, and in this View, tho' I should be ashamed of being too serious in a Controversy of this Sort, I think it proper to acquaint the Town with the original Design of the _Dunciad_, and the real Reasons of its Production. This Piece, which has been honour'd by Booksellers of Quality, contains only the Poetical Part of Dulness, extracted from a Libel, call'd, _The Progress of it_, and which included several other Branches of Science, and perhaps some of those Gentlemen, who have in the warmest Manner asserted the Cause of the _Dunciad_, might have seen a Publication of a Work, upon the Death of this Writer, in which no past Friendship could have screen'd them from Lampoon for any Pretences to excel in any Science whatever: It appears, therefore, that he was teaz'd into a Publication of these Cantos, which regarded the Writers of the Age, by some Attacks, that were made upon him about that Time: We must refer to a Miscellany of Poems published by Him and _Swift_, to which is prefix'd, _An Essay on the Profund_, to consider if those Attacks were justifiable; Mr. Dean _Swift_ never saw the _Profund_, till made publick, and Dr. _Arburthnot_, who originally sketch'd the Design of it, desired that the Initial Letters of Names of the Gentlemen abused might not be inserted, that they might be _A_ or _B_, or _Do_ or _Ro_, or any thing of that Nature, which would make this Satire a general one upon any dull Writers in any Age: This was refused by _Pope_, and he chose rather to treat a Set of Gentlemen as Vermin, Reptiles, _&c._ at a Time when he had no Provocation to do so, when he had closed his Labours, finish'd his great Subscriptions, and was in a fashionable Degree of Reputation: Several Gentlemen, who are there ranked with the dullest Men, or dullest Beasts, never did appear in Print against him, or say any thing in Conversation which might affect his Character: Some Replies, which were made to the _Profund_, occasioned the Publication of the _Dunciad_, which was first of all begun with a general Malice to all Mankind, and now appears under an Excuse of Provocations, which he had received, after he himself had struck the first Blow in the above-mentioned Miscellanies._

_I cannot indeed say much in Praise of some Performances, which appear'd against him, and am sorry that Voluntiers enter'd into the War, whom I could wish to have been only Spectators: But the Cause became so general, that some Gentlemen, who never aim'd at the Laurel, grew Poets merely upon their being angry: A Militia, in Case of publick Invasion, may perhaps be thought necessary, but yet one could always wish for an Army of regular Troops: I should not have touched upon this Circumstance, but to obviate some Imputations, which he had suggested, of my Writing several Pieces, which I never heard of, till I saw them with the rest of the Town: But these Suggestions shall be considered in the Preface to the next Epistle, in which, among other Things, I intend to state several Matters of Fact, in Contradiction to the Notes of the _Dunciad_, particularly as they concern the Writers of the following Poem._

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

One

E P I S T L E

to

Mr. _A. P O P E_,

Occasion'd By

Two Lately Publish'd.

If noble _B----m_, (a) in Metre known, With Strains has grac'd thee, humble as thy own; Who (b) _G--l--n_'s Dullness did for thine discard, A better Critick, for as bad a Bard! Not unregarded let this Tribute be, Tho' humble, just; well-bred, tho' paid to Thee.

_Parnassian_ Groves, and _Twick'nam_ Fountains, say, What Homage to the Bard shall _Britain_ pay! The Bard! that first, from _Dryden's_ thrice-glean'd Page, Cull'd his low Efforts to Poetic Rage; Nor pillag'd only that unrival'd Strain, But rak'd for Couplets [1] _Chapman_ and _Duck-Lane_, Has sweat each Cent'ry's Rubbish to explore, And plunder'd every Dunce that writ before, Catching half Lines, till the tun'd Verse went round, Complete, in smooth dull (c) Unity of Sound; Who, stealing Human, scorn'd Celestial Fire, And strung to _Smithfield_ Airs the [2] _Hebrew_ Lyre; Who taught declining (d) _Wycherley_ to doze O'er wire-drawn Sense, that tinkled in the Close, To lovely _F----r_ impious and obscene, To mud-born _Naiads_ faithfully unclean; Whose raptur'd Nonsense, with Prophetick Skill, First taught that Ombre, which fore-ran Quadrille; Who from the Skies, propitious to the Fair, Brought down _Caecilia_, and sent [3] _Cloris_ there, Censur'd by _W--ke_, by _A------ry_ blest, Prais'd _Sw----t_ in Earnest, and sung Heav'n in Jest, Here, mov'd by Whim, and there by Envy stung, Would flatter _Ch----s_, or would libel [4] _Y----ge_, By _F----n_ left, by Reverend Linguists hated, Now learns to read the _Greek_ he once translated.

[Footnote 1: A Translator of _Homer_.]

[Footnote 2: Burlesque of the first _Psalm_, more profest than _Sternbold's_.]

[Footnote 3: See Verses, in _P--pe_'s Poems, to the Memory of an unfortunate young Lady.]

[Footnote 4: _Sir W. Y._]

Oh say, to him what Trophies shall be rais'd, That unprovok'd will strike, and fawn unprais'd! Each fav'rite Toast who marks, or rising Wit, To sketch a Satire, that in Time may fit; Still hopes your Sun-set, while he views your Noon, And still broods o'er the closely-kept Lampoon; The lurking Presents o'er the Tomb he paid, And thus atton'd our _British Virgil_'s Shade, A Mushroom [1] Satire in his Life conceal'd, Since chang'd to Libel, and in Print reveal'd; Who lets not [2] Beauty base Detraction 'scape, And mocks Deformity with _AEsop_'s Shape; Who _Cato_'s Muse with faithless Sneers belied, The Prologue father'd, and the Play decried, On [3] _H----y_'s learned Page, dull-sporting trod, Betray'd his Patrons, and lampoon'd his God; Translator, Editor, could far out-go In _Homer_ _Ogleby_, in _Shakespeare_ _R----_ O! how burlesqu'd, great _Dryden_, is thy Strain, When little _Alexander_ [4] _slays the Slain_!

[Footnote 1: Libel on Mr. _Addison_ in _P--pe_ and _Sw--t_'s Miscellanies.]

[Footnote 2: Lady _M. W. M._]

[Footnote 3: Lord B----p of _Salisbury_.]

[Footnote 4: See _Dryden_'s Ode on St. _Caecilia_'s Day.

Fought all his Battles o'er again; ------And thrice he _slew the Slain_.]

On, mighty Rhimer, haste new Palms to seize, Thy little, envious, angry Genius teize; Let thy weak wilful Head, unrein'd by Art, Obey the Dictates of thy flatt'ring Heart; Divide a busy, fretful Life between Smut, Libel, Sing-song, Vanity, and Spleen; With long-brew'd Malice warm thy languid Page, And urge delirious Nonsense into Rage; Let bawdy Emblems, now, thy Hours beguile; Now, Fustian Epic, aping _Virgil_'s Stile; To _Virgil_ like, to _Indian_ Clay as _Delf_, Or _Pulteney_, drawn by _Jervase_, to Herself: Rheams heap'd on Rheams, incessant, mayst thou blot, A lively, trifling, pert, one knows not what! Form thy light Measures, nimbler than the Wind, Whilst heavy lingring Sense is left behind; With all thy Might pursue, and all thy Will, That unabating Thirst, to scribble still, Giv'n at thy Birth! the Poetaster's Gust, False and unsated as the Eunuch's Lust!

Illustrious Fops, mean time, o'er-rate thy Lays, And blooming Critics, as they spell thee, praise: Blest Coupleteer! by blooming Critics read, At Toilets _ogled_, and with Sweetmeats fed: See, lisping Toilers grace thy _Dunciad_'s Cause, And scream their witty Scavenger's Applause, While powder'd Wits, and lac'd Cabals rehearse Thy bawdy _Cento_, and thy _Bead-roll_ Verse; Gay, bugled Statesmen on thy Side debate, And libel'd Blockheads court thee, tho' they hate. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Fools of all Kinds their Suffrages impart, The Fools of Nature, and the Fools of Art.

These in thy threadbare Farce shall Beauties show, Shall praise thy ribald Mirth, and maudlin Woe; Praise ev'n thy imitating _Chaucer_'s Tales, And call that merry [1] Temple, Fame's _Versailles_: Thy [2] Shepherd-Song with Rapture they shall see, Which rivals _Philips_, as _Banks_ rivals _Lee_; Thy [3] _Guernsey_ and _Barbados_ Wreath shall own, Where _Durfey_ ne'er was read, nor _Settle_ known; That Wreath, that Name, which thro' both Worlds is gone, Which Doctor (e) _Y----_ applauds, and _Prestor John_.

[Footnote 1: Temple of Fame by _P----_]

[Footnote 2: _P----pe_'s Pastorals.]

[Footnote 3: See the Original Preface to the _Dunciad_.]

Lo! as _Anchises_, to the Goddess-born, So I the Worthies, that thy Page adorn, Point out to Thee.----See [1] here * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Prelate! next, exil'd by cruel Fates, Who plagues all Churches, and confounds all States; With Treasons past perplex'd, and present Cares; A Fop in Rhime, and Bungler in Affairs. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * And here! a Groupe of Brother Quill-men see, Co-witlings all, and Demi-bards like Thee; Such whom the Muse shall pass with just Disdain, Nor add one Trophy to thy mottly Train: But Quack _Arb----t_ shall Oblivion blot, That puzzling, plodding, prating, pedant _Scot_! The grating Scribler! whose untun'd Essays Mix the _Scotch_ Thistle with the _English_ Bays, By either _Phoebus_ pre-ordain'd to Ill, The Hand prescribing, or the flattering Quill, Who doubly plagues, and boasts two Arts to kill!

[Footnote 1: The Characters left out here may perhaps be inserted in some future Edition of this Poem.]

'Midst this vain Tribe, that aid thy setting Ray, The Muse shall view, but spare ill-faced _G--y_: Poor (f) _G--y_, who loses most when most he wins. And gives his Foes his Fame, and bears their Sins; Who more by Fortune than by Nature curst, Yields his best Pieces, and must own _Thy_ worst.

Thus prop'd, thy Head with _Grub-street_ Zephyrs tainted, By (g) _Rich_ recorded, and by _J----_ painted; _J----!_ who so refin'd a Rake is reckon'd, He breaks all (h) _Sinai_'s Laws, except the Second: Thus prais'd, thus drawn, t'extend thy Projects try, Leave the _Blue [1] Languish_, and the Crimson Sigh; Leave the gay Epithets that Beauty crown, White [2] _Whitylinda_, and _Brownissa_ Brown; Forget awhile (i) _Belinda_ and the Sun; Forget the _Fights of Stand_, and Flights of Run: No more let _Ombre_'s Play inspire thy Vein, Nor strow with Captive Kings the [3] _Velvet Plain_; Omit awhile the _Silver Peal_ to ring, } Nor talk dulcissant, nor mellifluous sing, } Nor _hang suspended_, nor _adherent cling_. } But haste to mount Immortal Envy's Throne, To crush all Merit, that disputes thy own; For thou wert born to damp each rising Name, And hang, like Mildews, on the Growth of Fame; Fame's fairest Blossoms let thy Rancour blast, Bane of the modern Laurel, like the past; While stupid Riot stands in Humour's Place, And bestial Filth, Humanity's Disgrace, Low Lewdness, unexcited by Desire, And all great [4] _Wilmot_'s Vice, without his Fire.

[Footnote 1: The Phrases distinguished here in _Italics_, are truly quoted from _P----pe_; and the others in Company with them, ought to be in no other Company.]

[Footnote 2: See _Dunciad_. _Nigrina_ Black.]

[Footnote 3: Here a Card Table; in _P--pe_, a Field of Grass.]

[Footnote 4: _Wilmot_, Earl of _Rochester_.]

At length, when banish'd _Pallas_ shall withdraw, And Wit's made Treason by the _Popian_ Law; When minor Dunces cease, at length, their Strife, And own thy Patent to be dull for Life; By Tricks sustain'd, in Poet-craft compleat, Retire triumphant to thy _Twick'nam_ Seat; That Seat! the Work of (k) half-paid drudging _Br----me_, And call'd by joking _Tritons_, _Homer_'s Tomb: There to stale, stol'n, stum Crambo bid adieu, And sneer the Fops, that thought thy Crambo new; There, like the _Grecian_ Chief, on whom thy Song Has well reveng'd unhappy _Priam_'s Wrong; Waste, in thy hidden Cave, the Festive Day, With mock _Machaon_, and _Patroclus G----_ _Sleep_, (l) _Sleep in Peace_ the Works, for _Wapping_ born! No more thy Cuckoo Note shall wake the Morn; In Ease, and Avarice, and aukward State, _The Fool of Fortune_, shalt thou hail thy Fate; Slumbring in Quiet o'er Lampoons half writ, Which, ripe in Malice, only wait for Wit.

So when _Vanessa_ yielded up her Charms, The blest _Cadenus_ languish'd in her Arms; High, on a Peg, his unbrush'd Beaver hung, His Vest unbutton'd, and his God unsung; Raptur'd he lies; Deans, Authors are forgot, _Wood_'s Copper Pence, and _Atterbury_'s Plot; For her he quits the Tythes of _Patrick_'s Fields, And all the Levite to the Lover yields.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

NOTES

On the Foregoing

POEM.

(a) _If Noble _B------m_,_

The late Duke of _Buckingham!_ who made that fine Alteration of the Tragedy of _Julius Caesar_ from _Shakespeare_, and who is said by Mr. _Pope_ to have bestow'd the finest Praise upon _Homer_ that he ever received, in the following Lines;

Read _Homer_ once, and you need read no more; For all Things else will be so mean and poor, Verse will seem Prose: Yet often on him look, And you will never need another Book.

D---- of B----'s Essay on Poetry.

He has also printed a Copy of Verses in Praise of _Pope_, which were returned by another in Praise of his Grace. There is so great a Similitude in the Stile of these Writers, that the Reader, I think, need not doubt their Sincerity in admiring each other.

'Tis great Delight to laugh at some Mens Ways; But 'tis much greater to give Merit Praise.

D---- of B----.

_Sheffield_ approves, consenting _Phoebus_ bends, And I and Malice from this Hour, am Friends.

Pope.

(b) _Who _G------n_'s Dulness------_

_Charles Gildon_, dismiss'd from the D----'s Pension and Favour, on Account of his Obstinacy in refusing to take the Oaths to _P--pe_'s Supremacy.

(c) _Smooth dull Unity of Sound._

_P--pe_'s Reputation for versifying is a vulgar Error, founded only on discreet Theft: Half a Line from Mr. _Dryden_'s _Conquest of Mexico_, and another from his Translation of _Virgil_, have seemingly made tolerable Music, when join'd in his Works; but Music of the _Morocco_ Kind, which has but one Note.

(d) _Who taught declining _Wycherley_------_

Mr. _Wycherley_ subscribed to a Compliment (some say, before his Death) upon _P--pe_'s Pastorals, in which he says, his _Arcadia speaks the Language of the Mall_, but does not explain, whether he means at Noon or Night. I do not agree with what Mr. _Wycherley_ is supposed to have writ of him, but I do with what he certainly said of him, _viz._ _That he was not able to make a Suit of Cloaths, but could perhaps turn an old Coat._

(e) _Which Doctor _Y------__

The Reverend Doctor _Edward Young_, who, in this Quarrel of the great contending Powers in Poesy, has been courted by all Sides: But some late Incidents give a Suspicion, that he has privately acceded to the _Treaty of Twickenham_.

(f) _Poor _G----_, who loses most----_

Mr. _Gay_, not thought to be the entire Author of the _Beggar's Opera_, and ordered to own _Three Hours after Marriage_.

(g) _By _Rich_ recorded------_

_Gilbert Pickering Rich._ A great Admirer of _P--pe_, eminent for his Translation of _Horace_, which can be equall'd by nothing but _P--pe_'s translating of _Homer_. He concludes the first Ode by giving (_sublimi feriam sidera vertice_) in these Words;

I'll bound, I'll spring, I'll strike the weaken'd Pole, I'll knock so hard, I'll knock thro' it a Hole.

(h) _------Breaks all _Sinai_'s Laws except the Second._

Second Commandment: "Thou shalt not make the Likeness of any Thing in Heaven above, or on the Earth beneath, or the Waters under the Earth."

(i) _Forget awhile _Belinda_ and the Sun._

In the _Rape of the Lock_, _Belinda_ and the Sun are very often said to be very much alike, which occasion'd two Lines in Praise of that Poem, written by a Friend of Mr. _Pope_;

Here, like the Sun, _Belinda_ strikes the Swain, In the same Page like the same Sun again.

Monsieur _Boileau_, speaking of the Poetasters of his Nation, in a Poem to the King, makes this Comparison the Consummation of Dulness;

_Et enfin te compare au Soloeil._

And in the End he compares your Majesty to the Sun.

(k) _------Half-paid drudging _B----me_._

The Reverend Mr. _B----me_, who translated a great Part of _Homer_, and construed the Rest: _N.B. A half-paid Poet_ is oftentimes the Occasion of an _unpaid Taylor_.

(l) _Sleep, Sleep in Peace------_

These Lines are a Parody of a famous Passage in the Tragedy of _Phaedra_ and _Hyppolitus_.

Sleep, Sleep in Peace, ye Monsters of the Wood: No more my early Horn shall wake------

_So when bright _Venus_ yielded up her Charms, The blest _Adonis_ languish'd in her Arms; His idle Horn on flagrant Myrtle hung, His Arrows scatter'd, and his Bow unstrung; Obscure in Covert lay his dreaming Hounds, And bay'd the fancy'd Boar with feeble Sounds: For nobler Sports he quits the savage Fields, And all the Hero to the Lover yields._

FINIS.

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* * * * * * * * *

[Transcriber's Note:

Footnotes are here shown between stanzas. The labels (a, b, c) are unchanged.]

The

_BLATANT-BEAST._

a

POEM.

What is that Blatant-Beast? Then he reply'd. It is a Monster bred of hellish Race, Then answered he, which often hath annoy'd Good Knights and Ladies true, and many else destroy'd. SPENCER's Fairy Queen, Book VI. Canto I.

No Might, no Greatness in Mortality Can Censure 'scape: Back-wounding Calumny The whitest Virtue strikes. What King so strong, Can tye the Gall up in sland'rous Tongue? SHAKESPEAR.

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_LONDON:_

Printed for J. ROBINSON, at the _Golden Lyon_ in _Ludgate-street_.

MDCCXLII.

[Decoration]

The

_BLATANT-BEAST_

a

POEM.

Beauty, the fondling Mother's earliest Pray'r, Nature's kind Gift to sweeten worldly Care. Beauty the greatest Extasy imparts, Steals thro' our Eyes, and revels in our Hearts; Adds Lustre to a Crown, gives Weight to Sense, The Orator assists in Truth's Defence. The very Fool our Hearts resistless warms, And while we curse the Tongue, the Figure charms. If Beauty be the Subject of our Praise, A rude, mishapen Lump Contempt must raise.

When _Lucifer_ with Angels held first Place, Seraphic Beauty sparkled in his Face. By Pride and Malice tempted to rebel, Vengeance pursu'd him to the lowest Hell: Not sulph'rous Lakes suffic'd, nor dreary Plains; Deformity was join'd t' improve his Pains.

Paint then the Person, and expose the Mind, Who rails at others, to his own Faults blind. Sly _Sancho_'s Paunch, meagre _Don Quixot_'s Love, The Satyr and the Ridicule improve. So when fam'd _Butler_ wou'd Rebellion paint, He lasht the Traitor and the Mimic Saint. Sir _Hudibras_ he sung; the crumpled Wight, Contempt and Laughter ever will excite.

The Blatant-Beast once more has broke his Chains, Disperses Falshoods, and remorseless reigns. Scornful of all thy Verses dare design, (Where useless Epithets crowd ev'ry Line,) The Blatant-Beast shall be afresh pursu'd, Nor cease my Labours till again subdu'd.