600

I am asked whether I meant to satirise the

I am, when I review the transaction between me | which I must own to be inadequate and penu-
and this writer, I cannot find that I have been rious, when offered to the member of an impor
When his book was first tant corporation.
deficient in reverence.
printed, he hints that I procured a sight of it be-
fore it was published. How the sight of it was
procured, I do not now very exactly remember;
but if my curiosity was greater than my pru-
dence, if I laid rash hands on the fatal volume,
I have surely suffered like him who burst the
box, from which evil rushed into the world.

man, or criticise the writer, when I say that he believes, only perhaps because he has inclination to believe it, that the English and Dutch consume more tea than the vast empire of China? Between the writer and the man I did not at that time consider the distinction. The writer I found not I took it, however, and inspected it as the of more than mortal might, and I did not immework of an author not higher than myself; and diately recollect that the man put horses to his was confirmed in my opinion, when I found that chariot. But I did not write wholly without What evidence the these letters were not written to be printed. I consideration. I knew but two causes of belief, concluded, however, that though not written to evidence and inclination. be printed, they were printed to be read, and in- Journalist could have of the Chinese consumpserted one of them in the collection of Novem- tion of tea, I was not able to discover. The offiber last. Not many days after I received a note, cers of the East India Company are excluded, informing me, that I ought to have waited for a they best know why, from the towns and the more correct edition. This injunction was obey-country of China; they are treated as we treat The edition appeared, and I supposed my- gipsies and vagrants, and obliged to retire every self at liberty to tell my thoughts upon it, as night to their own hovel. What intelligence upon any other book, upon a royal manifesto, such travellers may bring, is of no great impor And though the missionaries boast of or an act of parliament. But see the fate of ig-tance. norant temerity! I now find, but find too late, having once penetrated further, I think they that instead of a writer whose only power is in have never calculated the tea drank by the his pen, I have irritated an important member of Chinese. There being thus no evidence for his an important corporation; a man who, as he opinion, to what could I ascribe it but to inclitells us in his letters, puts horses to his chariot.

ed.

It was allowed to the disputant of old to yield up the controversy with little resistance to the master of forty legions. Those who know how weakly naked truth can defend her advocates, would forgive me if I should pay the same respect to a Governor of the Foundlings. Yet the consciousness of my own rectitude of intention incites me to ask once again, how I have offended?

There are only three subjects upon which my unlucky pen has happened to venture. Tea; the author of the Journal; and the Foundling Hospital.

nation?

I am yet charged more heavily for having said, that he has no intention to find any thing right at home. I believe every reader restrained this imputation to the subject which produced it, and supposed me to insinuate only that he meant to spare no part of the tea-table, whether essence or circumstance. But this line he has selected as an instance of virulence and acrimony, and confutes it by a lofty and splendid panegyric on himself. He asserts, that he finds many things right at home, and that he loves his country almost to enthusiasm.

disposition to practical paradoxes, that there was reason to fear lest some succeeding letter should recommend the dress of the Picts, or the cookery of the Eskimaux. However, I met with no other innovations, and therefore was willing to hope that he found something right at home.

I had not the least doubt that he had found in Of tea what have I said? That I have drank his country many things to please him; nor did it twenty years without hurt, and therefore be- I suppose that he desired the same inversion of lieve it not to be poison; that if it dries the every part of life, as of the use of tea. The profibres, it cannot soften them; that if it con-posal of drinking tea sour, showed indeed such a stringes, it cannot relax. I have modestly doubted whether it has diminished the strength of our men, or the beauty of our women; and whether it much hinders the progress of our woollen or iron manufactures; but I allowed it to be a barren superfluity, neither medicinal nor nutricious, that neither supplied strength nor cheerfulness, neither relieved weariness, nor exhilarated sorrow: I inserted, without charge or suspicion of falsehood, the sums exported to purchase it; and proposed a law to prohibit it for ever.

Of the author I unfortunately said, that his injunction was somewhat too magisterial. This I said before I knew that he was a Governor of the Foundlings; but he seems inclined to punish this failure of respect, as the Czar of Muscovy made war upon Sweden, because he was not treated with sufficient honours when he passed through the country in disguise. Yet was not Somethis irreverence without extenuation. thing was said of the merit of meaning well, and the Journalist was declared to be a man whose failings might well be pardoned for his virtues. This is the highest praise which human gratitude can confer upon human merit; praise that would have more than satisfied Titus or Augustus, but

But his love of his country seemed not to rise quite to enthusiasm, when, amidst his rage against tea, he made a smooth apology for the East India Company, as men who might not think themselves obliged to be political arithme ticians. I hold, though no enthusiastic patriot, that every man who lives and trades under the protection of a community, is obliged to consider whether he hurts or benefits those who protect him; and that the most which can be indulged to private interest is a neutral traffic, if any such can be, by which our country is not injured, though it may not be benefited.

But he now renews his declamation against tea, notwithstanding the greatness or power of those that have interest or inclination to support it. I know not of what power or greatness he may dream. The importers only have an interest in defending it. I am sure they are not great, and I hope they are not powerful. Those whose

inclination leads them to continue this practice, | passion for his tumultuous resentment; since are too numerous, but I believe their power is all his invectives fume into the air, with so littie such as the Journalist may defy without enthu-effect upon me, that I still esteem him as ons siasm. The love of our country, when it rises that has the merit of meaning well; and still be to enthusiasm, is an ambiguous and uncertain lieve him to be a man whose failings may be justiy virtue: when a man is enthusiastic, he ceases to pardoned for his virtues. be reasonable, and when he once departs from reason, what will he do but drink sour tea? As the Journalist, though enthusiastically zealous for his country, has, with regard to smaller

AND GENIUS OF POPE.

FROM THE LITERARY MAGAZINE, 1756. THIS is a very curious and entertaining miss cellany of critical remarks and literary history. Though the book promises nothing but observations on the writings of Pope, yet no opportunity is neglected of introducing the character of any other writer, or the mention of any performance or event in which learning is interested. From Pope, however, he always takes his hint, and to Pope he returns again from his digressions. The facts which he mentions, though they are seldom anecdotes in a rigorous sense, are often such as are very little known, and such as will delight more readers than naked criticism.

things, the placid happiness of philosophical in- REVIEW OF AN ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS difference, I can give him no disturbance by advising him to restrain even the love of his country within due limits, lest it should sometimes swell too high, fill the whole capacity of his soul, and leave less room for the love of truth. Nothing now remains but that I review my positions concerning the Foundling Hospital. What I declared last month, I declare now once more, that I found none of the children that appeared to have heard the catechism. It is inquired how I wandered, and how I examined? There is doubtless subtilty in the question; I know not well how to answer it. Happily I did not wander alone; I attended some ladies with another gentleman, who all heard and assisted the inquiry with equal grief and indignation. I did not conceal my observations. As he examines the works of this great poet Notice was given of this shameful defect soon in an order nearly chronological, he necessarily after, at my request, to one of the highest names begins with his pastorals, which, considered as of the society. This I am now told is incredible; representations of any kind of life, he very justly but since it is true, and the past is out of human censures; for there is in them a mixture of power, the most important corporation cannot Grecian and English, of ancient and modern, make it false. But why is it incredible? Be-images. Windsor is coupled with Hybla, and cause in the rules of the Hospital the children are ordered to learn the rudiments of religion. Orders are easily made, but they do not execute themselves. They say their catechism, at stated times, under an able master. But this able master was, I think, not elected before last February; and my visit happened, if I mistake not, in November. The children were shy when interrogated by a stranger. This may be true, but the same shyness I do not remember to have hindered them from answering other questions; and I wonder why children so much accustomed to new spectators should be eminently shy.

Thames with Pactolus. He then compares some passages which Pope has imitated or translated, with the imitation or version, and gives the preference to the originals, perhaps not always upon convincing arguments.

Theocritus makes his lover wish to be a bee, that he might creep among the leaves that form the chaplet of his mistress. Pope's enamoured swain longs to be made the captive bird that sings in his fair one's bower, that she might listen to his songs, and reward them with her kisses. The critic prefers the image of Theocritus as more wild, more delicate, and more un common.

My opponent, in the first paragraph, calls the inference that I made from this negligence, a It is natural for a lover to wish that he might hasty conclusion: to the decency of this expres-be any thing that could come near to his lady. sion I had nothing to object: but as he grew hot But we more naturally desire to be that which in his career, his enthusiasm began to sparkle; she fondles and caresses, than that which she and in the vehemence of his postscript, he charges would avoid, at least would neglect. The supe my assertions, and my reasons for advancing rior delicacy of Theocritus I cannot discover, not them, with folly and malice. His argumentation can indeed find, that either in the one or the other being somewhat enthusiastical, I cannot fully image there is any want of delicacy. Which of comprehend, but it seems to stand thus: my in- the two images was less common in the time of sinuations are foolish or malicious, since I know the poet who used it, for on that consideration not one of the governors of the Hospital; for he the merit of novelty depends, I think it is now that knows not the governors of the Hospital, out of any critic's power to decide. must be very foolish or malicious.

He has, however, so much kindness for me, that he advises me to consult my safety when 1 talk of corporations. I know not what the most important corporation can do, becoming manhood, by which my safety is endangered. My reputation is safe, for I can prove the fact; my quiet is safe, for I meant well; and for any other safety, I am not used to be very solicitous.

I am always sorry when I see any being labouring in vain; and in return for the Journalist's attention to my safety, I will confess some com

He remarks, I am afraid with too much jus tice, that there is not a single new thought in the pastorals; and with equal reason declares, that their chief beauty consists in their correct and musical versification, which has so influenced the English ear, as to render every moderate rhymer harmonions.

In his examination of the Messiah, he justly observes some deviations from the inspired author, which weaken the imagery, and dispirit the expression.

On Windsor Forest, he declares, I think with

out proof, that descriptive poetry was by no means the excellence of Pope; he draws this inference from the few images introduced in this poem, which would not equally belong to any other place. He must inquire whether Wind-in Colin's Complaint, and in the ballad of Darby sor Forest has in reality any thing peculiar.

of passion. They can only be adapted to gene ral purposes; but the particular and minuter propriety must be sought only in the sentiment and language. Thus the numbers are the same and Joan, though in one sadness is represente 1, and in the other tranquillity; so the measure is the same of Pope's Unfortunate Lady, and the Praise of Voiture.

He observes very justly, that the odes both of Dryden and Pope conclude unsuitably and un

The Stag-chase is not, he says, so full, so animated, and so circumstantiated as Somerville's. Barely to say that one performance is not so good as another, is to criticise with little exactness. But Pope has directed that we should in every work regard the author's end. The Stag-naturally with epigram. chase is the main subject of Somerville, and might therefore be properly dilated in all its circumstances; in Pope it is only incidental, and was to be despatched in a few lines.

He then spends a page upon Mr. Handel's music to Dryden's ode, and speaks of him with that regard which he has generally obtained among the lovers of sound. He finds something amiss in the air "With ravished ears," but has overlooked or forgotten the grossest fault in that composition, which is that in this line.

He makes a just observation, "that the description of the external beauties of nature is usually the first effort of a young genius, before he hath studied nature and passions. Some of Milton's most early as well as most exquisite ieces are his Lycidas, Allegro, and Il Penseroso, if we may except his ode on the Nativity of Christ, which is indeed prior in order of time, and in which a penetrating critic might have ob-thetical. served the seeds of that boundless imagination which was one day to produce the Paradise Lost."

Mentioning Thomson and other descriptive poets, he remarks, that writers fail in their copies for want of acquaintance with originals, and justly ridicules those who think they can form just ideas of valleys, mountains, and rivers, in a garret of the Strand. For this reason I cannot regret with this author, that Pope laid aside his design of writing American pastorals; for as he must have painted scenes which he never saw, and manners which he never knew, his performance, though it might have been a pleasing amusement of fancy, would have exhibited no representation of nature or of life.

After the pastorals, the critic considers the lyric poetry of Pope, and dwells longest on the Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, which he, like the rest of mankind, places next to that of Dryden, and not much below it. He remarks after Mr. Spence, that the first stanza is a perfect concert. The second he thinks a little flat; he justly commends the fourth, but without notice of the best line in that stanza, or in the poem:

. Transported demi-gods stood round,

And men grew heroes at the sound.

Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries.

He has laid much stress upon the two latter words, which are merely words of connexion, and ought in music to be considered as paren

From this ode is struck out a digression on the nature of odes, and the comparative excellence of the ancients and moderns. He mentions the chorus which Pope wrote for the Duke of Buckingham; and thence takes occasion to treat of the chorus of the ancients. He then comes to another ode, of "The dying Christian to his Soul," in which finding an apparent imitation of Flatman, he falls into a pleasing and learned speculation on the resembling passages to be found in different poets.

He mentions with great regard Pope's ode on Solitude, written when he was but twelve years old, but omits to mention the poem on Silence, composed, I think, as early, with much greater elegance of diction, music of numbers, extent of observation, and force of thought. If he had happened to think on Baillet's chapter of Enfans celebres, he might have made on this occasion a very entertaining dissertation on early excellence.

He comes next to the Essay on Criticism, the stupendous performance of a youth not yet twenty years old; and after having detailed the felicities of condition to which he imagines Pope to have owed his wonderful prematurity of mind, he tells us that he is well informed this essay was first written in prose. There is nothing

In the latter part of the ode he objects to the improbable in the report, nothing indeed but stanza of triumph:

Thus song could reveal, &c. as written in a measure ridiculous and burfesque, and justifies his answer by observing that Addison uses the same numbers in the scene of Rosamond between Grideline and Sir Trusty:

How unhappy is he, &c.

That the measure is the same in both passages, must be confessed, and both poets perhaps chose their numbers properly; for they both meant to express a kind of airy hilarity. The two passions of merriment and exultation are undoubtedly different; they are as different as a gambol and a triumph, but each is a species of joy; and poetical measures have not in any language been so far refined as to provide for the subdivisions

what is more likely than the contrary; yet I cannot forbear to hint to this writer and all others, the danger and weakness of trusting too readily to information. Nothing but experience could evince the frequency of false information, or enable any man to conceive that so many groundless reports should be propagated as every man of eminence may hear of himself. Some men relate what they think as what they know; some men of confused memories and habitual inaccuracy ascribe to one man what belongs to another; and some talk on without thought or care. A few men are sufficient to broach falsehoods, which are afterwards innocently diffused by successive relaters.

He proceeds on examining passage after passage of this essay; but we must pass over all those criticisms to which we have not something

The next pieces to be considered are the Verses to the Memory of an unfortunate Lady, the Prologue to Cato, and Epilogue to Jane Shore. The first piece he commends. On occasion of the second he digresses, according to his custom,

to add or to object, or where this author does not | descended from Fassoni to Boileau, from Boileau differ from the general voice of mankind. We to Garth, and from Garth to Pope. Garth is cannot agree with him in his censure of the mentioned perhaps with too much honour; but comparison of a student advancing in science all are confessed to be inferior to Pope. There with a traveller passing the Alps, which is per- is in his remarks on this work no discovery of any haps the best simile in our language; that in latent beauty, nor any thing subtle or striking; which the most exact resemblance is traced be- he is indeed commonly right, but has discussed tween things in appearance utterly unrelated to no difficult question. each other. That the last line conveys no new idea, is not true; it makes particular what was before general. Whether the description which he adds from another author be, as he says, more full and striking than that of Pope, is not to be inquired. Pope's description is rela-into a learned dissertation on tragedies, and comtive, and can admit no greater length than is usually allowed to a simile, nor any other particulars than such as form the corespondence. Unvaried rhymes, says this writer, highly disgust readers of a good ear. It is surely not the ear but the mind that is offended. The fault arising from the use of common rhymes is, that by reading the past line the second may be guessed, and half the composition loses the grace of novelty.

On occasion of the mention of an alexandrine, the critic observes, that "the alexandrine may be thought a modern measure, but that Robert of Gloucester's Wife is an alexandrine, with the addition of two syllables; and that Sternhold and Hopkins translated the Psalms in the same measure of fourteen syllables, though they are printed otherwise."

This seems not to be accurately conceived or expressed an alexandrine with the addition of two syllables, is no more an alexandrine than with the detraction of two syllables. Sternhold and Hopkins did generally write in the alternate measure of eight and six syllables; but Hopkins commonly rhymed the first and third, Sternhold only the second and fourth: so that Sternhold may be considered as writing couplets of long lines; but Hopkins wrote regular stanzas. From the practice of printing the long lines of fourteen syllables in two short lines, arose the license of some of our poets, who, though professing to write in stanzas, neglected the rhymes of the first and third lines.

Pope has mentioned Petronius among the great names of criticism, as the remarker justly observes, without any critical merit. It is to be suspected that Pope had never read his book, and mentioned him on the credit of two or three sentences which he had often seen quoted, imagining that where there was so much there must necessarily be more. Young men in haste to be renowned, too frequently talk of books which they have scarcely seen.

pares the English and French with the Greek stage. He justly censures Cato for want of action and of characters; but scarcely does justice to the sublimity of some speeches, and the philosophical exactnest in the sentiments. "The simile of mount Atlas, and that of the Numidian traveller smothered in the sands, are indeed in character," says the critic, "but sufficiently obvious." The simile of the mountain is indeed common; but of that of the traveller I do not remember. That it is obvious, is easy to say, and easy to deny. Many things are obvious when they are taught.

He proceeds to criticise the other works of Addison, till the Epilogue calls his attention to Rowe, whose character he discusses in the same manner with sufficient freedom and sufficient candour.

The translation of the Epistle of Sappho to Phaon, is next considered: but Sappho and Ovid are more the subjects of this disquisition than Pope. We shall therefore pass over it to a piece of more importance, the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard, which may justly be regarded as one of the works on which the reputation of Pope will stand in future times.

The critic pursues Eloisa through all the changes of passion, produces the passages of her letters to which any allusion is made, and intersperses many agreeable particulars and incidental relations. There is not much profundity of criticism, because the beauties are sentiments of nature, which the learned and the ignorant feel alike. It is justly remarked by him, that the wish of Eloisa for the happy passage of Abelard into the other world, is formed according to the ideas of mystic devotion.

These are the pieces examined in this volume; whether the remaining part of the work will be one volume or more, perhaps the writer himself cannot yet inform us. This piece is, however, a complete work, so far as it goes; and the writer is of opinion that he has despatched the chief part of this task: for he ventures to remark, that the reputation of Pope as a poet, among posterity, will be principally founded on

The revival of learning mentioned in this poem, affords an opportunity of mentioning the chief periods of literary history, of which this writer reckons five: that of Alexander, of Pto-his Windsor Forest, Rape of the Lock, and Eloisa lemy Philadelphus, of Augustus, of Leo the Tenth, of Queen Anne.

These observations are concluded with a remark which deserves great attention: "In no polished nation, after criticism has been much studied, and the rules of writing established, has any very extraordinary book ever appeared."

The Rape of the Lock was always regarded by Pope as the highest production of his genius. On occasion of this work, the history of the comic heroic is given; and we are told that it

to Abelard; while the facts and characters alluded to in his late writings will be forgotten and unknown, and their poignancy and propricty little relished; for wit and satire are transitory and perishable, but nature and passion are eternal.

He has interspersed some passages of Pope's life, with which most readers will be pleased. When Pope was yet a child, his father, who had been a merchant in London, retired to Binfield. He was taught to read by an aunt; and learned

to write without a master, by copying printed | which the solution of this great question is books. His father used to order him to make necessary, have been demonstrated without any English verses, and would oblige him to correct solution, or by means of the solution of some and retouch them over and over, and at last former writer. could say, "These are good rhymes."

About ten, being at school near Hyde-Park-in it than what is necessary to the production of corner, he was taken to the playhouse, and was so struck with the splendour of the drama, that he formed a kind of play out of Ogleby's Homer, intermixed with verses of his own. He persuaded the head-boys to act this piece, and Ajax was performed by his master's gardener. They were habited according to the pictures in Ogleby. At twelve he retired with his father to Windsor Forest, and formed himself by study in the best English poets.