Calamities And Quarrels Of Authors Part 36

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 partic.i.p.ating in the injustice to pa.s.s 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_ a.s.serts 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 t.i.ttle of truth in it, when the strongest defence in poor humble prose, not having that harmonious advantage, takes n.o.body 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 a.s.sertions 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 G.o.d 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, n.o.body 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. .h.i.t 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 Fas.h.i.+on_ 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 pa.s.sion, 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 laureates.h.i.+p. 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 astonis.h.i.+ng 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 ent.i.tled, "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 pa.s.sages 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 coa.r.s.e 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 circ.u.mstance 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing "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 amus.e.m.e.nt." He has metamorphosed our Apollo into a "Tom-t.i.t;" 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 a.n.a.logies 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 Parna.s.sus 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 friends.h.i.+p 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 grat.i.tude 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 ill.u.s.trious 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 grat.i.tude.

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 friends.h.i.+p 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 circ.u.mstances_ 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--

d.a.m.n with faint praise; a.s.sent 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 l.u.s.tration, 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]

The interview between Addison and Pope took place in the presence of Steele and Gay. They met with cold civility. Addison's reserve wore away, as was usual with him, when wine and conversation imparted some warmth to his native phlegm. At a moment the generous Steele deemed auspicious, he requested Addison would perform his promise in renewing his friends.h.i.+p with Pope. Pope expressed his desire: he said he was willing to hear his faults, and preferred candour and severity rather than forms of complaisance; but he spoke in a manner as conceiving Addison, and not himself, had been the aggressor. So much like their humblest inferiors do great men act under the influence of common pa.s.sions: Addison was overcome with anger, which cost him an effort to suppress; but, in the formal speech he made, he reproached Pope with indulging a vanity that far exceeded his merit; that he had not yet attained to the excellence he imagined; and observed, that his verses had a different air when Steele and himself corrected them; and, on this occasion, reminded Pope of a particular line which Steele had improved in the "Messiah."[235] Addison seems at that moment to have forgotten that he had trusted, for the last line of his own dramatic poem, rather to the inspiration of the poet he was so contemptuously lecturing than to his own.[236] He proceeded with detailing all the abuse the herd of scribblers had heaped on Pope; and by declaring that his Homer was "an ill-executed thing," and Tickell's had all the spirit. We are told, he concluded "in a low hollow voice of feigned temper," in which he a.s.serted that he had ceased to be solicitous about his own poetical reputation since he had entered into more public affairs; but, from friends.h.i.+p for Pope, desired him to be more humble, if he wished to appear a better man to the world.

When Addison had quite finished schooling his little rebel, Gay, mild and timid (for it seems, with all his love for Pope, his expectations from the court, from Addison's side, had tethered his gentle heart), attempted to say something. But Pope, in a tone far more spirited than all of them, without reserve told Addison that he appealed from his judgment, and did not esteem him able to correct his verses; upbraided him as a pensioner from early youth, directing the learning which had been obtained by the public money to his own selfish desire of power, and that he "had always endeavoured to cut down new-fledged merit."

The conversation now became a contest, and was broken up without ceremony. Such was the notable interview between two rival wits, which only ended in strengthening their literary quarrel; and sent back the enraged satirist to his inkstand, where he composed a portrait, for which Addison was made to sit, with the fine _chiar' oscuro_ of Horace, and with as awful and vindictive features as the sombre hand of Juvenal could have designed.