Chapter XV: Part 15

The reader observes that Curll talks of a great number of _books not received_, and of _the few_ which he has received, as _imperfect_. The fact is, the whole bubble is on the point of breaking. He, masked in the initial letters, and he, who wore the masquerade dress of a clergyman's gown with a lawyer's band, suddenly picked a quarrel with the duped bibliopolist: they now accuse him of a design he had of betraying them to the Lords!

The tantalized and provoked Curll then addressed the following letter to "The Rev. Mr. Smith," which, both as a specimen of this celebrated personage's "prose," in which he thought himself "a match for Pope," and exhibiting some traits of his character, will entertain the curious reader.

_Friday, 16 May, 1735._

"SIR,--1st, I am falsely accused. 2. I value not any man's change
of temper; I will never change my VERACITY for falsehood, in
owning a fact of which I am innocent. 3. I did not own the books
came from _across the water_, nor ever _named you_; all I said
was, that the books came _by water_. 4. When the books were
seized, I sent my son to convey a letter to you; and as you told
me everybody knew you in Southwark, I bid him make a strict
inquiry, as I am sure you would have done in such an exigency. 5.
Sir, _I have acted justly_ in this affair, and that is what I
shall always think wisely. 6. I will be kept no longer in the
dark; P. T. is _Will o' the Wisp_; all the books I have had are
imperfect; the first fifty had no titles nor prefaces; the last
five bundles seized by the Lords contained but thirty-eight in
each bundle, which amounts to one hundred and ninety, and fifty,
is in all but two hundred and forty books. 7. As to the loss of a
future copy, I despise it, nor will I be concerned with any more
such dark suspicious dealers. But now, sir, I'll tell you what I
will do: when I have the _books perfected_ which I have already
received, and _the rest of the impression_, I will pay you for
them. But what do you call this usage? First take a note for a
month, and then want it to be changed for one of Sir Richard
Hoare's. My note is as good, for any sum I give it, as the Bank,
and shall be as punctually paid. I always say, _gold is better
than paper_. But if this dark converse goes on, I will instantly
reprint the whole book; and, as a supplement to it, all the
letters P. T. ever sent me, of which I have exact copies, together
with all your originals, and give them in upon oath to my Lord
Chancellor. You talk of _trust_--P. T. has not reposed any in me,
for he has my money and notes for imperfect books. Let me see,
sir, either P. T. or yourself, or you'll find the Scots proverb
verified, _Nemo me impune lacessit_.

"Your abused humble servant,
"E. CURLL.

"P.S. Lord ---- I attend this day. LORD DELAWAR I SUP WITH
TO-NIGHT. Where _Pope_ has one lord, I have twenty."

After this, Curll announced "Mr. Pope's Literary Correspondence, with the _initial correspondence_ of P. T., R. S. &c." But the shadowy correspondents now publicly declared that they could give _no title_ whatever to Mr. Pope's letters, with which they had furnished CURLL, and never pretended any; that therefore any bookseller had the same right of printing them: and, in respect to money matters between them, he had given them notes not negotiable, and had never paid them fully for the copies, perfect and imperfect, which he had sold.

Thus terminated this dark transaction between Curll and his _initial_ correspondents. He still persisted in printing several editions of the letters of Pope, which furnished the poet with a modest pretext to publish an authentic edition--the very point to which the whole of this dark and intricate plot seems to have been really directed.[211]

Were Pope not concerned in this mysterious transaction, how happened it that the letters which P. T. actually printed were genuine? To account for this, Pope promulgated a new fact. Since the first publication of his letters to his friend Cromwell, wrenched from the distressed female who possessed them, our poet had been advised to collect his letters; and these he had preserved by inserting them in two books; either the originals or the copies. For this purpose an amanuensis or two were employed by Pope when these books were in the country, and by the Earl of Oxford when they were in town. Pope pretended that Curll's letters had been extracted from these two books, but sometimes imperfectly transcribed, and sometimes interpolated. Pope, indeed, offered a reward of twenty pounds to "P. T." and "R. Smith, who passed for a clergyman," if they would come forward and discover the whole of this affair; or "if they had acted, as it was reported, by the _direction_ of any other person." They never appeared. Lintot, the son of the great rival of Curll, told Dr. Johnson, that his father had been offered the same parcel of printed books, and that Pope knew better than anybody else how Curll obtained the copies.

Dr. Johnson, although he appears not to have been aware of the subtle intricacy of this extraordinary plot, has justly drawn this inference: "To make the copies perfect was the only purpose of Pope, because the numbers offered for sale by the private messengers, showed that hope of gain could not have been the motive of the impression. It seems that Pope, being desirous of printing his letters, and not knowing how to do, without imputation of vanity, what has in this country been done very rarely, contrived an appearance of compulsion; when he could complain that his letters were surreptitiously printed, he might decently and defensively publish them himself."

I have observed, how the first letter of P. T. pretending to be written by one who owed no kindness to Pope, bears the evident impression of his own hand; for it contains matters not exactly true, but exactly what Pope wished should appear in his own life. That he had prepared his letters for publication, appears by the story of the two MS. books--that the printed ones came by water, would look as if they had been sent from his house at Twickenham; and, were it not absurd to pretend to decipher initials, P. T. might be imagined to indicate the name of the owner, as well as his place of abode.

Worsdale, an indifferent painter, was a man of some humour in personating a character, for he performed Old Lady Scandal in one of his own farces. He was also a literary adventurer, for, according to Mrs. Pilkington's Memoirs, wishing to be a poet as well as a mimic, he got her and her husband to write all the verses which passed with his name; such a man was well adapted to be this clergyman with the lawyer's band, and Worsdale has asserted that he was really employed by his friend Pope on this occasion.

Such is the intricate narrative of this involved transaction. Pope completely succeeded, by the most subtile manoeuvres imaginable; the incident which perhaps was not originally expected, of having his letters brought before the examination at the House of Lords, most amply gratified his pride, and awakened public curiosity. "He made the House of Lords," says Curll, "his tools." Greater ingenuity, perplexity, and secrecy have scarcely been thrown into the conduct of the writer, or writers, of the Letters of Junius.

FOOTNOTES:

[208] Curll was a bookseller, from whose shop issued many works of an
immoral class, yet he chose for his sign "The Bible and Dial,"
which were displayed over his shop in Fleet-street. The satire
of Pope's Dunciad seems fairly to have been earned, as we may
judge from the class of books still seen in the libraries of
curious collectors, and which are certainly unfitted for more
general circulation. For these publications he was fined by
the Court of King's Bench, and on one occasion stood in the
pillory as a punishment. Yet himself and Lintot were the chief
booksellers of the era, until Tonson arose, and by taking a
more enlarged view of the trade, laid the foundation of the
great publishing houses of modern times.--ED.

[209] Cromwell was one of the gay young men who frequented
coffee-houses and clubs when Pope, also a young man, did the
same, and corresponded freely with him for a few years, when
the intimacy almost entirely ceased. The lady was a Mrs.
Thomas, who became a sort of literary hack to Curll, and is
celebrated in the Dunciad under the name of Corinna. Roscoe,
in his edition of Pope, says, "Of Henry Cromwell little is
known, further than what is learnt from this correspondence,
from which he appears to have been a man of respectable
connections, talents, and education, and to have intermingled
pretty freely in the gallantries of fashionable life." He
seems to have been somewhat eccentric, and the correspondence
of Pope only lasted from 1708 to 1711.--ED.

[210] Pope, in his conversations with Spence, says, "My letters to
Cromwell were written with a design that does not generally
appear: they were not written in sober sadness."--ED.

[211] Pope's victory over Curll is represented by Hogarth in a print
ostentatiously hung in the garret of his "Distressed
Poet."--ED.

POPE AND CIBBER;

CONTAINING A VINDICATION OF THE COMIC WRITER.

POPE attacked CIBBER from personal motives--by dethroning Theobald,
in the _Dunciad_, to substitute CIBBER, he made the satire not
apply--CIBBER'S facetious and serious remonstrance--CIBBER'S
inimitable good-humour--an apology for what has been called his
"effrontery"--perhaps a modest man, and undoubtedly a man of
genius--his humorous defence of his deficiency in Tragedy, both
in acting and writing--Pope more hurt at being exposed as a
ridiculous lover than as a bad man--an account of "The Egotist, or
Colley upon Cibber," a kind of supplement to the "Apology for his
life," in which he has drawn his own character with great freedom
and spirit.

Pope's quarrel with Cibber may serve to check the haughtiness of genius; it is a remarkable instance how good-humour can gently draw a boundary round the arbitrary power, whenever the wantonness of satire would conceal calumny. But this quarrel will become even more interesting, should it throw a new light on the character of one whose originality of genius seems little suspected. Cibber showed a happy address in a very critical situation, and obtained an honourable triumph over the malice of a great genius, whom, while he complained of he admired, and almost loved the cynic.

Pope, after several "flirts," as Cibber calls them, from slight personal motives, which Cibber has fully opened,[212] at length from "peevish weakness," as Lord Orford has happily expressed it, closed his insults by dethroning Theobald, and substituting Cibber; but as he would not lose what he had already written, this change disturbed the whole decorum of the satiric fiction. Things of opposite natures, joined into one, became the poetical chimera of Horace. The hero of the _Dunciad_ is neither Theobald nor Cibber; Pope forced a dunce to appear as Cibber; but this was not making Cibber a dunce. This error in Pope emboldened Cibber in the contest, for he still insisted that the satire did not apply to him;[213] and humorously compared the libel "to a purge with a wrong label," and Pope "to an apothecary who did not mind his business."[214]

Cibber triumphed in the arduous conflict--though sometimes he felt that, like the Patriarch of old, he was wrestling, not with an equal, but one of celestial race, "and the hollow of his thigh was out of joint." Still, however, he triumphed, by that singular felicity of character, that inimitable _gaiete de coeur_, that honest simplicity of truth, from which flowed so warm an admiration of the genius of his adversary; and that exquisite _tact_ in the characters of men, which carried down this child of airy humour to the verge of his ninetieth year, with all the enjoyments of strong animal spirits, and all that innocent egotism which became frequently a source of his own raillery.[215] He has applied to himself the epithet "impenetrable," which was probably in the mind of Johnson when he noticed his "impenetrable impudence." A critic has charged him with "effrontery."[216] Critics are apt to admit too much of traditional opinion into their own; it is necessary sometimes to correct the knowledge we receive. For my part, I can almost believe that Cibber was a _modest man_![217] as he was most certainly a man of genius. Cibber had lived a dissipated life, and his philosophical indifference, with his careless gaiety, was the breastplate which even the wit of Pope failed to pierce. During twenty years' persecution for his unlucky Odes, he never lost his temper; he would read to his friends the best things pointed against them, with all the spirit the authors could wish; and would himself write epigrams for the pleasure of hearing them repeated while sitting in coffee-houses; and whenever they were applauded as "Palpable hits!"--"Keen!"--"Things with a spirit in them!"--he enjoyed these attacks on himself by himself.[218] If this be vanity, it is at least "_Cibberian_."

It was, indeed, the singularity of his personal character which so long injured his genius, and laid him open to the perpetual attacks of his contemporaries,[219] who were mean enough to ridicule undisguised foibles, but dared not be just to the redeeming virtues of his genius. Yet his genius far exceeded his literary frailties. He knew he was no poet, yet he would string wretched rhymes, even when not salaried for them; and once wrote an Essay on Cicero's character, for which his dotage was scarcely an apology;--so much he preferred amusement to prudence.[220] Another foible was to act tragedies with a squeaking voice[221], and to write them with a genius about the same size for the sublime; but the malice of his contemporaries seemed to forget that he was creating new dramatic existences in the exquisite personifications of his comic characters; and was producing some of our standard comedies, composed with such real genius, that they still support the reputation of the English stage.

In the "Apology for his Life," Cibber had shown himself a generous and an ill-treated adversary, and at all times was prodigal of his eulogiums, even after the death of Pope; but, when remonstrance and good temper failed to sheathe with their oil the sharp sting of the wasp, as his weakest talent was not the ludicrous, he resolved to gain the laughers over, and threw Pope into a very ridiculous attitude.[222] It was extorted from Cibber by this insulting line of Pope's:--

And has not Colley, too, his Lord and w--e?

It seems that Pope had once the same! But a ridiculous story, suited to the taste of the loungers, nettled Pope more than the keener remonstrances and the honest truths which Cibber has urged. Those who write libels, invite imitation.

Besides the two letters addressed by Cibber to Pope, this quarrel produced a moral trifle, or rather a philosophical curiosity, respecting Cibber's own character, which is stamped with the full impression of all its originality.

The title, so expressive of its design, and the whim and good-humour of the work, which may be considered as a curious supplement to the "Apology for his Life," could scarcely have been imagined, and most certainly could not have been executed, but by the genius who dared it. I give the title in the note.[223] It is a curious exemplification of what Shaftesbury has so fancifully described as "self-inspection." This little work is a conversation between "Mr. Frankly and his old acquaintance, Colley Cibber." Cibber had the spirit of making this Mr. Frankly speak the bitterest things against himself; and he must have been an attentive reader of all the keenest reproaches his enemies ever had thrown out. This caustic censor is not a man of straw, set up to be easily knocked down. He has as much vivacity and wit as Cibber himself, and not seldom has the better of the argument. But the gravity and the levity blended in this little piece form admirable contrasts: and Cibber, in this varied effusion, acquires all our esteem for that open simplicity, that unalterable good-humour which flowed from nature, and that fine spirit that touches everything with life; yet, as he himself confesses, the main accusation of Mr. Frankly, that "his philosophical air will come out at last mere vanity in masquerade," may be true.

I will attempt to collect some specimens of this extraordinary production, because they harmonise with the design of the present work, and afford principles, in regard to preserving an equability of temper, which may guide us in Literary Quarrels.

_Frankly_ observes, on Cibber's declaration that he is not uneasy at Pope's satire, that "no blockhead is so dull as not to be sore when he is called so; and (you'll excuse me) if that were to be your own case, why should we believe you would not be as uneasy at it as another blockhead?

_Author._ This is pushing me pretty home indeed; but I wont give out. For as it is not at all inconceivable, that a blockhead of my size may have a particular knack of doing some useful thing that might puzzle a wiser man to be master of, will not that blockhead still have something in him to be conceited of? If so, allow me but the vanity of supposing I may have had some such possible knack, and you will not wonder (though in many other points I may still be a blockhead) that I may, notwithstanding, be contented with my condition.

_Frankly._ Is it not commendable, in a man of parts, to be warmly concerned for his reputation?

_Author._ In what regards his honesty or honour, I will make some allowance; but for the reputation of his parts, not one tittle.

_Frankly._ How! not to be concerned for what half the learned world are in a continual war about.

_Author_. So are another half about religion; but neither Turk or Pope, swords or anathemas, can alter truth! There it stands! always visible to reason, self-defended and immovable! Whatever it _was_, or _is_, it ever _will be_! As no attack can alter, so no defence can add to its proportion.

_Frankly._ At this rate, you pronounce all controversies in wit to be either needless or impertinent.

_Author._ When one in a hundred happens _not_ to be so, or to make amends for being either by its pleasantry, we ought in justice to allow it a great rarity. A reply to a just satire or criticism will seldom be thought better of.

_Frankly._ May not a reply be a good one?

_Author._ Yes, but never absolutely necessary; for as your work (or reputation) must have been good or bad, before it was censured, your reply to that censure could not alter it: it would still be but what it was. If it was good, the attack could not hurt it: if bad, the reply could not mend it.[224]

_Frankly._ But slander is not always so impotent as you seem to suppose it; men of the best sense may be misled by it, or, by their not inquiring after truth, may never come at it; and the vulgar, as they are less apt to be good than ill-natured, often mistake malice for wit, and have an uncharitable joy in commending it. Now, when this is the case, is not a tame silence, upon being satirically libelled, as liable to be thought guilt or stupidity, as to be the result of innocence or temper?--Self-defence is a very natural and just excuse for a reply.

_Author._ Be it so! But still that does not always make it necessary; for though slander, by their not weighing it, may pass upon some few people of sense for truth, and might draw great numbers of the vulgar into its party, the mischief can never be of long duration. _A satirical slander, that has no truth to support it, is only a great fish upon dry land: it may flounce and fling, and make a fretful pother, but it wont bite you; you need not knock it on the head; it will soon lie still, and die quietly of itself._

_Frankly._ The single-sheet critics will find you employment.

_Author._ Indeed they wont. I'm not so mad as to think myself a match for the invulnerable.

_Frankly._ Have a care; there's Foulwit; though he can't feel, he can bite.

_Author._ Ay, so will bugs and fleas; but that's only for sustenance: everything must feed, you know; and your creeping critics are a sort of vermin, that if they could come to a king, would not spare him; yet, whenever they can persuade others to laugh at their jest upon me, I will honestly make one of the number; but I must ask their pardon, if that should be all the reply I can afford them."

This "boy of seventy odd," for such he was when he wrote "The Egotist," unfolds his character by many lively personal touches. He declares he could not have "given the world so finished a coxcomb as Lord Foppington, if he had not found a good deal of the same stuff in himself to make him with." He addresses "A Postscript, To those few unfortunate Readers and Writers who may not have more sense than the Author:" and he closes, in all the fulness of his spirit, with a piece of consolation for those who are so cruelly attacked by superior genius.

"Let us then, gentlemen, who have the misfortune to lie thus at the mercy of those whose natural parts happen to be stronger than our own--let us, I say, make the most of our sterility! Let us double and treble the ranks of our thickness, that we may form an impregnable phalanx, and stand every way in front to the enemy! or, would you still be liable to less hazard, lay but yourselves down, as I do, flat and quiet upon your faces, when Pride, Malice, Envy, Wit, or Prejudice let fly their formidable shot at you, what odds is it they don't all whistle over your head? Thus, too, though we may want the artillery of missive wit to make reprisals, we may at least in security bid them kiss the tails we have turned to them. Who knows but, by this our supine, or rather prone serenity, their disappointed valour may become their own vexation? Or let us yet, at worst, but solidly stand our ground, like so many defensive stone-posts, and we may defy the proudest Jehu of them all to drive over us. Thus, gentlemen, you see that Insensibility is not without its comforts; and as I give you no worse advice than I have taken myself, and found my account in, I hope you will have the hardness to follow it, for your own good and the glory of

"Your impenetrable humble servant,
"C. C."

After all, one may perceive, that though the good-humour of poor Cibber was real, still the immortal satire of Pope had injured his higher feelings. He betrays his secret grief at his close, while he seems to be sporting with his pen; and though he appears to confide in the falsity of the satire as his best chance for saving him from it, still he feels that the caustic ink of such a satirist must blister and spot wherever it falls. The anger of Warburton, and the sternness of Johnson, who seem always to have considered an actor as an inferior being among men of genius, have degraded Cibber. They never suspected that "a blockhead of his size could do what wiser men could not," and, as a fine comic genius, command a whole province in human nature.

FOOTNOTES:

[212] Johnson says, that though "Pope attacked Cibber with acrimony,
the provocation is not easily discoverable." But the
statements of Cibber, which have never been contradicted,
show sufficient motives to excite the poetic irascibility. It
was Cibber's "fling" at the unowned and condemned comedy
of the triumvirate of wits, Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot,
_Three Hours after Marriage_, when he performed Bayes in the
_Rehearsal_, that incurred the immortal odium. There was no
malice on Cibber's side; for it was then the custom to restore
the zest of that obsolete dramatic satire, by introducing
allusions to any recent theatrical event. The plot of this
ridiculous comedy hinging on the deep contrivance of two
lovers getting access to the wife of a virtuoso, "one
curiously swathed up like an Egyptian mummy, and the other
slily covered in the pasteboard skin of a crocodile," was an
incident so _extremely natural_, that it seemed congenial
with the high imagination and the deep plot of a Bayes!
Poor Cibber, in the gaiety of his _impromptu_, made the
"fling;" and, unluckily, it was applauded by the audience!
The irascibility of Pope too strongly authenticated one of
the three authors. "In the swelling of his heart, after the
play was over, he came behind the scenes with his lips pale
and his voice trembling, to call me to account for the insult;
and accordingly fell upon me with all the foul language that
a wit out of his senses would be capable of, choked with the
foam of his passion." Cibber replied with dignity, insisted
on the privilege of the character, and that he would repeat
the same jest as long as the public approved of it. Pope
would have certainly approved of Cibber's manly conduct,
had he not been the author himself. To this circumstance may
be added the reception which the town and the court bestowed
on Cibber's "Nonjuror," a satire on the politics of the
jacobite faction; Pope appears, under the assumed name of
_Barnevelt_, to have published "an odd piece of wit,
proving that the Nonjuror, in its design, its characters, and
almost every scene of it, was a closely-couched jacobite
libel against the Government." Cibber says that "this was so
shrewdly maintained, that I almost liked the jest myself."
Pope seems to have been fond of this new species of irony;
for, in the Pastorals of Phillips, he showed the same sort of
ingenuity, and he repeated the same charge of political
mystery against his own finest poem; for he proved by many
"merry inuendoes," that "The Rape of the Lock" was as
audacious a libel as the pretended Barnevelt had made out the
Nonjuror to be. See note, p. 280.

[213] Cibber did not obtrude himself in this contest. Had he been
merely a poor vain creature, he had not preserved so long
a silence. His good-temper was without anger, but he
remonstrates with no little dignity, when he chooses to be
solemn; though to be playful was more natural to him. "If I
have lain so long stoically silent, or unmindful of your
satirical favours, it was not so much for want of a proper
reply, as that I thought there never needed a public one;
for all people of sense would know what truth or falsehood
there was in what you said of me, without my wisely
pointing it out to them. Nor did I choose to follow your
example, of being so much a self-tormentor, as to be
concerned at whatever opinion of me any published invective
might infuse into people unknown to me. Even the malicious,
though they may like the libel, don't always believe it."
His reason for reply is, that his silence should not be
farther reproached "as a plain confession of my being a
bankrupt in wit, if I don't immediately answer those bills
of discredit you have drawn upon me." There is no doubt that
Cibber perpetually found instigators to encourage these
attacks; and one forcible argument he says was, that "a
disgrace, from such a pen, would stick upon me to posterity."
He seems to be aware that his acquaintance cheer him to the
lists "for their particular amusement."

[214] "His edition of Shakspeare proved no better than a foil to set
off the superiority of Theobald's; and Cibber bore away the
palm from him in the drama. We have an account of two attempts
of Pope's, one in each of the two principal branches of this
species of poetry, and both unsuccessful. The fate of the
comedy has been already mentioned (in page 300), and the
tragedy was saved from the like fate by one not less
ignominious, being condemned and burnt by his own hands. It
was called _Cleone_, and formed upon the same story as a late
one wrote and published by Mr. Dodsley with the same title in
1759. See Dodsley's Preface."--_Biographia Britannica_, 1760.

[215] Armstrong, who was a keen observer of man, has expressed his
uncommon delight in the company of Cibber. "Beside his
abilities as a writer (as a writer of comedies, Armstrong
means), and the singular variety of his powers as an
actor, he was to the last one of the most agreeable,
cheerful, and best-humoured men you would ever wish to
converse with."--Warton's _Pope_, vol. iv. 160.

Cibber was one of those rare beings whose dispositions Hume
describes "as preferable to an inheritance of 10,000_l._ a
year."

[216] Dr. Aikin, in his Biographical Dictionary, has thus written on
Cibber: "It cannot be doubted, that, at the time, the contest
was more painful to Pope than to Cibber. But Pope's satire is
immortal, whereas Cibber's sarcasms are no longer read.
_Cibber may therefore be represented to future times with less
credit for abilities than he really deserves_; for he was
certainly no dunce, though not, in the higher sense of the
word, a man of genius. _His effrontery and vanity_ could not
be easily overcharged, even by a foe. Indeed, they are
striking features in the portrait drawn by himself." Dr.
Aikin's political morality often vented its indignation at the
successful injustice of great power! Why should not the same
spirit conduct him in the Literary Republic? With the just
sentiments he has given on Cibber, it was the duty of an
intrepid critic to raise a moral feeling against the despotism
of genius, and to have protested against the arbitrary power
of Pope. It is participating in the injustice to pass it by,
without even a regret at its effect.

As for Cibber himself, he declares he was _not impudent_, and
I am disposed to take his own word, for he _modestly_ asserts
this, in a remark on Pope's expression,

"'Cibberian forehead,'

"by which I find you modestly mean _Cibberian impudence_, as a
sample of the strongest.--Sir, your humble servant--but pray,
sir, in your 'Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot' (where, by the way, in
your ample description of a great Poet, you slily hook in a
whole hat-full of virtues to your own character) have not you
this particular line?

'And thought a _Lie_, in verse or prose, the same--'"

Cibber laments it is not so, for "any accusation in smooth
verse will always sound well, though it is not tied down to
have a tittle of truth in it, when the strongest defence in
poor humble prose, not having that harmonious advantage, takes
nobody by the ear--very hard upon an innocent man! For suppose
in prose, now, I were as confidently to insist that you were
an _honest_, _good-natured_, _inoffensive creature_, would my
barely saying so be any proof of it? No sure. Why then, might
it not be supposed an equal truth, that both our assertions
were equally false? _Yours_, when you call me _impudent_;
_mine_, when I call you _modest_, &c. While my superiors
suffer me occasionally to sit down with them, I hope it will
be thought that rather the _Papal_ than the _Cibberian_
forehead ought to be out of countenance." I give this as a
specimen of Cibber's serious reasonings--they are poor; and
they had been so from a greater genius; for ridicule and
satire, being only a mere abuse of eloquence, can never be
effectually opposed by truisms. Satire must be repelled by
satire; and Cibber's _sarcasms_ obtained what Cibber's
_reasonings_ failed in.

[217] Vain as Cibber has been called, and vain as he affects to be, he
has spoken of his own merits as a comic writer,--and he was a
very great one,--with a manly moderation, very surprising
indeed in a vain man. Pope has sung in his _Dunciad_, most
harmoniously inhuman,

"How, with less reading than makes felons scape,
Less human genius than God gives an ape,
Small thanks to France, and none to Rome or Greece,
A patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, revived new piece;
'Twixt Plautus, Fletcher, Congreve, and Corneille,
Can make a CIBBER, JOHNSON, and OZELL."

Blasting as was this criticism, it could not raise the anger
of the gay and careless Cibber. Yet what could have put it to
a sharper test? Johnson and Ozell are names which have long
disappeared from the dramatic annals, and could only have been
coupled with Cibber to give an idea of what the satirist meant
by "the human genius of an ape." But listen to the mild, yet
the firm tone of Cibber--he talks like injured innocence, and
he triumphs over Pope, in all the dignity of truth.--I appeal
to Cibber's posterity!

"And pray, sir, why my name under this scurvy picture? I
flatter myself, that if you had not put it there, nobody else
would have thought it like me; nor can I easily believe that
you yourself do: but perhaps you imagined it would be a
laughing ornament to your verse, and had a mind to divert
other people's spleen with it as well as your own. Now let me
hold up my head a little, and then we shall see how the
features hit me." He proceeds to relate, how "many of those
plays have lived the longer for my meddling with them." He
mentions several, which "had been dead to the stage out of all
memory, which have since been in a constant course of acting
above these thirty or forty years." And then he adds: "Do
those altered plays at all take from the merit of those _more
successful pieces_, which were _entirely my own_?--When a man
is abused, he has a right to speak even laudable truths of
himself, to confront his slanderer. Let me therefore add, that
my first Comedy of _The Fool in Fashion_ was as much (though
not so valuable) an original, as any work Mr. Pope himself has
produced. It is now forty-seven years since its first
appearance on the stage, where it has kept its station, to
this very day, without ever lying one winter dormant. Nine
years after this, I brought on _The Careless Husband_, with
still greater success; and was that too

'A patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, revived new piece?'

Let the many living spectators of these plays, then, judge
between us, whether the above verses came from the honesty of
a satirist, who would be thought, like you, the upright censor
of mankind. Sir, this libel was below you! Satire, without
truth, recoils upon its author, and must, at other times,
render him suspected of prejudice, even where he may be just;
as frauds, in religion, make more atheists than converts; and
the bad heart, Mr. Pope, that points an injury with verse,
makes it the more unpardonable, as it is not the result of
sudden passion, but of an indulged and slowly-meditating
ill-nature. What a merry mixed mortal has nature made you,
that can debase that strength and excellence of genius to the
lowest human weakness, that of offering unprovoked injuries,
at the hazard of your being ridiculous too, when the venom you
spit falls short of your aim!" I have quoted largely, to show
that Cibber was capable of exerting a dignified remonstrance,
as well as pointing the lightest, yet keenest, shafts of
sarcastic wit.

[218] Ayre's "Memoirs of Pope," vol. ii. p. 82.

[219] Even the "Grub-street Journal" had its jest on his appointment
to the laureateship. In No. 52 was the following epigram:--

"Well, said Apollo, still 'tis mine
To give the real laurel:
For that my Pope, my son divine,
Of rivals ends the quarrel.
But guessing who would have the luck
To be the birth-day fibber,
I thought of Dennis, Tibbald, Duck,
But never dreamt of Cibber!"--ED.

[220] It may be reasonably doubted, however, if vanity had not
something to do with this--the vanity of appearing as a
philosophical writer, and astonishing the friends who had
considered him only as a good comedian. The volume was
magnificently printed in quarto on fine paper, "for the
author," in 1747. It is entitled, "The Character and Conduct
of Cicero Considered, from the History of his Life by the Rev.
Dr. Middleton; with occasional Essays and Observations upon
the most Memorable Facts and Persons during that Period." The
entire work is a series of somewhat too-familiar notes on the
various passages of "Cicero's Life and Times," as narrated by
Middleton. He terms the unsettled state after the death of
Sylla "an uncomfortable time for those sober citizens who had
a mind and a right to be quiet." His professional character
breaks forth when he speaks of Roscius instructing Cicero in
acting; and in the very commencement of his grave labour he
rambles back to the theatre to quote a scene from Vanbrugh's
_Relapse_, as a proof how little fashionable readers _think_
while they _read_. Colley's well-meaning but free-and-easy
reflections on the gravities of Roman history, in the progress
of his work, are remarkable, and have all the author's coarse
common sense, but very little depth or refinement--ED.

[221] With what good-humour he retorts a piece of sly malice of
Pope's; who, in the notes to the _Dunciad_, after quoting
Jacob's account of Cibber's talents, adds--"Mr. Jacob omitted
to remark that he is particularly admirable in tragedy." To
which Cibber rejoins--"Ay, sir, and your remark has omitted,
too, that (with all his commendations) I can't dance upon the
rope, or make a saddle, nor play upon the organ. My dear, dear
Mr. Pope, how could a man of your stinging capacity let so
tame, so low a reflection escape him? Why, this hardly rises
above the petty malice of Miss Molly. 'Ay, ay, you may think
my sister as handsome as you please, but if you were to see
her legs!' If I have made so many crowded theatres laugh, and
in the right place, too, for above forty years together, am I
to make up the number of your dunces, because I have not the
equal talent of making them cry too? Make it your own case. Is
what you have excelled in at all the worse for your having so
dismally dabbled in the farce of _Three Hours after Marriage_?
What mighty reason will the world have to laugh at my weakness
in tragedy, more than at yours in comedy?"

I will preserve one anecdote of that felicity of temper--that
undisturbed good-humour which never abandoned Cibber in his
most distressful moments. When he brought out, in 1724, his
_Caesar in Egypt_, at a great expense, and "a beggarly account
of empty boxes" was the result, it raised some altercations
between the poet and his brother managers, the bard still
struggling for another and another night. At length he closed
the quarrel with a pun, which confessed the misfortune, with
his own good-humour. In a periodical publication of the times
I find the circumstance recorded in this neat epigram:--

_On the Sixth Night of CIBBER'S "Caesar in Egypt."_

When the pack'd audience from their posts retired,
And Julius in a general hiss expired;
Sage Booth to Cibber cried, "Compute our gains!
These dogs of Egypt, and their dowdy queans,
But ill requite these habits and these scenes,
To rob Corneille for such a motley piece:
His geese were swans; but zounds! thy swans are geese!"
Rubbing his firm invulnerable brow,
The bard replied--"The critics must allow
'Twas ne'er in _Caesar's destiny_ TO RUN!"
Wilks bow'd, and bless'd the gay pacific pun.

[222] A wicked wag of a lord had enticed Pope into a tavern, and laid
a love-plot against his health. Cibber describes his resolute
interference by snatching "our little Homer by the heels. This
was done for the honour of our nation. Homer would have been
too serious a sacrifice to our evening's amusement." He has
metamorphosed our Apollo into a "Tom-tit;" but the Ovidian
warmth, however ludicrous, will not _now_ admit of a
narrative. This story, by our comic writer, was accompanied by
a print, that was seen by more persons, probably, than read
the _Dunciad_. In his second letter, Cibber, alluding to the
vexation of Pope on this ridiculous story, observes--"To have
been exposed as _a bad man_, ought to have given thee thrice
the concern of being shown a _ridiculous lover_." And now that
he had discovered that he could touch the nerves of Pope, he
throws out one of the most ludicrous analogies to the figure
of our bard:--"When crawling in thy dangerous deed of
darkness, I gently, with a finger and a thumb, picked off thy
small round body by thy long legs, like a spider making love
in a cobweb."

[223] "The EGOTIST, or Colley upon Cibber; being his own picture
retouched to so _plain_ a likeness that no one _now_ would
have the face to own it BUT HIMSELF.

'But one stroke more, and that shall be my last.'

_London_, 1743.
DRYDEN."

[224] How many good authors might pursue their studies in quiet, would
they never reply to their critics but on matters of fact, in
which their honour may be involved. I have seen very
tremendous criticisms on some works of real genius, like
serpents on marble columns, wind and dart about, and spit
their froth, but they die away on the pillars that enabled
them to erect their malignant forms to the public eye. They
fall in due time; and weak must be the substance of that
pillar which does not stand, and look as beautiful, when the
serpents have crawled over it, as before. Dr. Brown, in his
"Letter to Bishop Lowth," has laid down an axiom in literary
criticism:--"_A mere literary attack_, however well or
ill-founded, would not easily have drawn me into a _public
expostulation_; for every man's true literary character is
best seen in his own writings. Critics may rail, disguise,
insinuate, or pervert; yet still the object of their censures
lies equally open to all the world. Thus the world becomes a
competent judge of the merits of the work animadverted on.
Hence, the mere _author_ hath a fair chance for a fair
decision, at least among the judicious; and it is of no mighty
consequence what opinions the _injudicious_ form concerning
mental abilities. For this reason, I have never replied to any
of those numerous critics who have on different occasions
honoured me with their regard."

POPE AND ADDISON.

The quarrel between POPE and ADDISON originated in one of the
infirmities of genius--a subject of inquiry even after their
death, by Sir WILLIAM BLACKSTONE--POPE courts ADDISON--suspects
ADDISON of jealousy--ADDISON'S foible to be considered a great
poet--interview between the rivals, of which the result was the
portrait of ATTICUS, for which ADDISON was made to sit.

Among the Literary Quarrels of POPE one acquires dignity and interest from the characters of both parties. It closed by producing the severest, but the most masterly portrait of one man of genius, composed by another, which has ever been hung on the satiric Parnassus for the contemplation of ages. ADDISON must descend to posterity with the dark spots of ATTICUS staining a purity of character which had nearly proved immaculate.

The friendship between Pope and Addison was interrupted by one of the infirmities of genius. Tempers of watchful delicacy gather up in silence and darkness motives so shadowy in their origin, and of such minute growth, that, never breaking out into any open act, they escape all other eyes but those of the parties themselves. These causes of enmity are too subtle to bear the touch; they cannot be inquired after, nor can they be described; and it may be said that the minds of such men have rather quarrelled than they themselves: they utter no complaints, but they avoid each other. All the world perceived that two authors of the finest genius had separated from motives on which both were silent, but which had evidently operated with equal force on both. Their admirers were very general, and at a time when literature divided with politics the public interest, the best feelings of the nation were engaged in tracking the obscure commencements and the secret growth of this literary quarrel, in which the amiable and moral qualities of Addison, and the gratitude and honour of Pope, were equally involved. The friends of either party pretended that their chiefs entertained a reciprocal regard for each other, while the illustrious characters themselves were living in a state of hostility. Even long after these literary heroes were departed, the same interest was general among the lovers of literature; but those obscure motives which had only influenced two minds--those imperceptible events, which are only events as they are watched by the jealousy of genius--eluded the most anxious investigation. Yet so lasting and so powerful was the interest excited by this literary quarrel, that, within a few years, the elegant mind of Sir WILLIAM BLACKSTONE withdrew from the severity of profounder studies to inquire into the causes of a quarrel which was still exciting the most opposite opinions. Blackstone has judged and summed up; but though he evidently inclines to favour Addison, by throwing into the balance some explanation for the silence of Addison against the audible complaints of Pope; though sometimes he pleads as well as judges, and infers as well as proves; yet even Blackstone has not taken on himself to deliver a decision. His happy genius has only honoured literary history by the masterly force and luminous arrangement of investigation, to which, since the time of Bayle, it has been too great a stranger.[225]

At this day, removed from all personal influence and affections, and furnished with facts which contemporaries could not command, we take no other concern in this literary quarrel but as far as curiosity and truth delight us in the study of human nature. We are now of no party--we are only historians!

Pope was a young writer when introduced to Addison by the intervention of that generously-minded friend of both, Steele. Addison eulogised Pope's "Essay on Criticism;" and this fine genius covering with his wing an unfledged bardling, conferred a favour which, in the estimation of a poet, claims a life of indelible gratitude.

Pope zealously courted Addison by his poetical aid on several important occasions; he gave all the dignity that fine poetry could confer on the science of medals, which Addison had written on, and wrote the finest prologue in the language for the Whig tragedy of his friend. Dennis attacked, and Pope defended _Cato_[226]. Addison might have disapproved both of the manner and the matter of the defence; but he did more--he insulted Pope by a letter to Dennis, which Dennis eagerly published as Pope's severest condemnation. An alienation of friendship must have already taken place, but by no overt act on Pope's side.

Not that, however, Pope had not found his affections weakened: the dark hints scattered in his letters show that something was gathering in his mind. Warburton, from his familiar intercourse with Pope, must be allowed to have known his literary concerns more than any one; and when he drew up the narrative,[227] seems to me to have stated uncouthly, but expressively, the progressive state of Pope's feelings. According to that narrative, Pope "reflected," that after he had first published "The Rape of the Lock," then nothing more than a hasty _jeu d'esprit_, when he communicated to Addison his very original project of the whole sylphid machinery, Addison chilled the ardent bard with his coldness, advised him against any alteration, and to leave it as "a delicious little thing, _merum sal_." It was then, says Warburton, "Mr. Pope began to _open his eyes_ to Addison's character." But when afterwards he discovered that Tickell's Homer was opposed to his, and judged, as Warburton says, "by _laying many odd circumstances_ together," that Addison,[228] and not Tickell, was the author--the alienation on Pope's side was complete. No open breach indeed had yet taken place between the rival authors, who, as jealous of dominion as two princes, would still demonstrate, in their public edicts, their inviolable regard; while they were only watching the advantageous moment when they might take arms against each other.

Still Addison publicly bestowed great encomiums on Pope's _Iliad_, although he had himself composed the rival version, and in private preferred his own.[229] He did this with the same ease he had continued its encouragement while Pope was employed on it. We are astonished to discover such deep politics among literary Machiavels! Addison had certainly raised up a literary party. Sheridan, who wrote nearly with the knowledge of a contemporary, in his "Life of Swift," would naturally use the language and the feelings of the time; and in describing Ambrose Phillips, he adds, he was "one of Mr. Addison's little senate."

But in this narrative I have dropt some material parts. Pope believed that Addison had employed Gildon to write against him, and had encouraged Phillips to asperse his character.[230] We cannot, now, quite demonstrate these alleged facts; but we can show that Pope believed them, and that Addison does not appear to have refuted them.[231] Such tales, whether entirely false or partially true, may be considered in this inquiry of little amount. The greater events must regulate the lesser ones.[232]

Was Addison, then, jealous of Pope? Addison, in every respect, then, his superior; of established literary fame when Pope was yet young; preceding him in age and rank; and fortunate in all the views of human ambition. But what if Addison's foible was that of being considered a great poet? His political poetry had raised him to an undue elevation, and the growing celebrity of Pope began to offend him, not with the appearance of a meek rival, with whom he might have held divided empire, but as a master-spirit, that was preparing to reign alone. It is certain that Addison was the most feeling man alive at the fate of his poetry. At the representation of his _Cato_, such was his agitation, that had _Cato_ been condemned, the life of Addison might, too, have been shortened. When a wit had burlesqued some lines of this dramatic poem, his uneasiness at the innocent banter was equally oppressive; nor could he rest, till, by the interposition of a friend, he prevailed upon the author to burn them.[233]

To the facts already detailed, and to this disposition in Addison's temper, and to the quick and active suspicions of Pope, irritable, and ambitious of all the sovereignty of poetry, we may easily conceive many others of those obscure motives, and invisible events, which none but Pope, alienated every day more and more from his affections for Addison, too acutely perceived, too profoundly felt, and too unmercifully avenged. These are alluded to when the satirist sings--

Damn with faint praise; assent with civil leer;
And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike;
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike, &c.

Accusations crowded faster than the pen could write them down. Pope never composed with more warmth. No one can imagine that Atticus was an ideal personage, touched as it is with all the features of an extraordinary individual. In a word, it was recognised instantly by the individual himself; and it was suppressed by Pope for near twenty years, before he suffered it to escape to the public.

It was some time during their avowed rupture, for the exact period has not been given, that their friends promoted a meeting between these two great men. After a mutual lustration, it was imagined they might have expiated their error, and have been restored to their original purity. The interview did take place between the rival wits, and was productive of some very characteristic ebullitions, strongly corroborative of the facts as they have been stated here. This extraordinary interview has been frequently alluded to. There can be no doubt of the genuineness of the narrative but I know not on what authority it came into the world.[234]