i '>*" i ■'M in p^a^*^ /VU'(5w^'-w-w TRAVELS IN AMERICA. THE POETRY OF POPE. TWO LECTURES DELIVERED TO THE LEEDS MECHANICS' INSTITUTION AND LITERARY SOCIETY, DECEMBER 5th AND 6th, 1850. • BY \ THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARL OF CARLISLE, ^A^-[y fancy formed thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' All-beauteous mind. Those smiling eyes, attempering every ray. Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. (JuillleFs I gaz'd ; heaven listened while you sung. And truths divine came mended Irom that tongue." r^P* THE POETRY OF POPE. 113 In that beautiful line, the force of human passion seems to obtain the mastery over the concerns of an- other life ; but I will close my extracts from this poem with the wishes she forms for their last meeting, in which piety appears finally to predominate over pas- '' Thou, Abelaid ! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day. See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallowed taper tremiling in thy hand. (You remark all the force in that word " trembling ;" in the next line, observe bow the w^ords " present " and " lifted " carry on the drama of the scene) : — Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach mc at once, and leani of me to die ; Ah then, thy once-loved Eloisa see, It will be then no crime to gaze on me. (That is, I think, a highly impassioned and pathetic line ) See from my cheek the transient roses fly, 114 TUB I'OETKY OF POPE. ("Transient," in the literal meaning of the word, passing off.) See the last sparkle languish in my eye ! Till every motion, pulse, and breath be o'er ; And e'en my Abelard be loved no more. O death, all eloquent ! you only prove, What dust we dote on when 'tis man wo love." It would be a strange omission in an estimate of the poetical achievements of Pope, to make no mention of his translation of Homer, thouo-h the fact of its being a translation, and its length, would both rather put it beyond the limits of my present criticism. Dr. John- son calls his Iliad, and I am inclined to believe with no more than perfect truth, the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen. The main objection alleged against it is, that being a professed translation of Homer, it is not Homeric — that it is full of grace and sparkle, but misses the unmatched simplicity and majesty of that great father of verse, — that, if I may so express myself, it has not the twang of Homer. All this, I think, must be admitted ; by some the poems of Sir Walter Scott, and old ballads like Chevy TUB POETRY OF roi'E. 115 Chase, have been thought to convey a better notion of this Homeric twang than can be gathered from all the polished couplets of Pope. Cowper (an honored name) tried a more literal version in blank verse, which certainly may be said to represent more closely at least the simpUcity of the original. Let us, however, come to the practical test — as Lord Byron has asked con- cerning these two translations, " Who can ever read Cowper, and who will ever lay down Pope, except for the original ? Asa child I first read Pope's Homer with a rapture which no subsequent work could ever afiford, and children are not the worst judges of their own language." It is no mean praise that it is the channel which has conveyed the knowledge of Homer to the general English public, — not to our scholars, of course. Though it is far less to the purpose how I felt about this as a child, than how Lord Byron felt, I too remember the days (I fear, mdeed, that the anec- dote will savor of egotism, but I must not mind the imputation of egotism, if it illustrates my author), when I used to learn Pope's Iliad by heart behind a screen, while I was supposed to be engaged on lessons of 116 THE POETRY OF POPE. more direct usefulness ; and I fancy that I was under the strange hallucination at the time that I had got by heart the four first books. I do not mention this as a profitable example, but in order to show the degree in which this translation was calculated to gain the mas- tery over the youthful mind. All the poems of Pope, to which I have already re- ferred, belong to that period of life which, in all ordi- nary cases, would be c-illed youth. I believe that they must have have been nearly altogether completed be- fore he was thirty. Those which I may further have to quote from (in doing which I shall hardly think it necessary to observe so much separate order between the different poems as heretofore), were the fruits of his matured years and settled powers. They hence- forth fall under one class of composition, that which treats of men, their manners, and their morals ; they are comprised under the titles of satires and moral essays. He himself speaks of the bent which his genius now adopted, "That not in fancy's maze he wandered long, Cut stooped to truth, and moralized Ins song." IHE T'OKTRY OF POPR. 1 1 V Upon which I again feel happy to find myself in full acquiescence with Lord Byron, who says, " He should have written, rose to truth. In ray mind the highest of all poetry is ethical poetry, as the highest of all earthly subjects must be moral truth."' Lord Bolingbroke and Bishop Atterbury, certainlj^ no mean judges of intellectual merit, declared that the strength of Pope's genius lay eminently and peculiarly in satire. What shall I, then, single out as an illustra- tion of his satiric vein ? The character of Lord Hervey, under the name of Sporus, is cited by Lord Byron as a specimen of his rich fancy (generally, but most erro- neously, assumed to be the quality in which Pope was chiefly deficient), and with this specimen of fancy Lord Byron defied all his own contemporaries to compete. That it does manifest injustice at least to the abilities of Lord Hervey, will be acknowledged by all who have read his very entertaining memoirs lately published ; but moreover, able and brilliant as it is, it is too dis- agreeable to repeat. Let me quote, then, his famous '^cbaracter of Addison, who had given oflPence to him, whether with good reason or not it is no part of my 118 TliE rOKTRY OF POPE. present purpose, nor would it be in my power, to de^ cide. Pope thought that Addison had treated him slightingly and superciliously, and I believe took spe- cially amiss the kind of notice he had bestowed upon the Rape of the Lock. He speaks of him under the name of Atticus ; you will remark the consummate skill with which he first does justice to his genius, and then detracts from its lustre. It is also a great proof of the cleverness of the satire, that, sincere as our re- spect is both for the genius and character of Addison, it is impossible to go through this piece of dissection without believing that it must have touched upon some points of real soreness. " Peace to all such ! bxit were there one whos« True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires ; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease: Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hale for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; THE POETRY OF POPE. Hi) Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike ; Alike reserv'd to blame or to commend, A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend ; Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers beaicg'd, And so obliging, that he ne'er obligM ; Like Cato, give his little Senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause ; While wits and templars ev'ry sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be V Who would not weep, if Atticus were he !" Then I will take the character of the able, versatile, and unprincipled Duke of Wharton : — " Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise : Born with whafe'er could win it from the wise, Women and fools must like him, or he dies ; Tho' wondering senates hung on all he spokC) The club must hail him master of the joke. [This couplet has been apphed to the celebrated Mr. Sheridan, and does not ill suit the author of the speeches on Warren Hastings' trial, and the School for Scandal.] 120 TIIK J'OKTUV OF VnVK. Thus with eacli gift of nature ai'd of ail, And wanting nothing but an honest heart, Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt ; Aad most conteraptii>Ie, to sliun contempt ; Ilis jjasslon still, to covet general praise, His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways; A constant bounty which no friend has raado ; An angel tongue, which no man can persuade ; A fool, with more of wit than half mankind. Too rash for thought, for action too refined ; A tyrant to the wife his heart approve?, A rebel to the vei7 king he loves ; lie dies, sad outcast of each church and state, And, harder still ! flagitious, yet not great. Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule? 'Twas all for fear the knaves should call liim fool." I liave given the characters of two men ; fairness demands that at least I should give you one of a wo- man. I take that of Chloe, which, unlike the two last, has not, that I am aware, been ascertained to belong to any actual person, but most of us will feel that we have known people, to whom some parts of it at least might fit : — " Yet Chloe sure was formed without a spot- Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. THE POETRY OF POPE. 121 ' With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, ' Say what does Chloe want ?' She wants a heart. She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought ; But never, never reached one generous thought. Virtue she finds too painful an endeavor, Content to dwell in decencies for ever. So very reasonable, so unmoved. As never yet to love, or to be loved. She, while her lover pants upon her breast, Can mai'k the figures on an Indian chest : And when she sees her friend in deep despair. Observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair. Forbid it heaven, a favor or a debt She e'er should cancel ! but she may forget. Safe is your secret still in Chloe's ear ; But none of Chloe's shall you ever hear. Of all her Dears she never slandered one. But cares not if a thousand are imdone. Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead ? H She bids her footman put it in her head. ^ Chloe is prudent !— Would you too be wise. Then never break your heart when Chloe dies." Having tlius attempted to do justice to Pope's powers of satire, I must not omit to mention what I consider to be another of his feUcities almost of an opposite character, though I have perceived with plea- ^ 122 THE POETRY OF TOPE. sure since I noted this topic, that I have been antici- pated in the same hne of remark by the late Mr. Hazlitt; I say with pleasure, because that ingenious person was one of the guides and favorites of a school the most opposed in theory and practice to that of Pope ; I allude to the extreme tact, skill, and dehcacy with which he conveys a compliment, and frequently embodies in one pregnant hne or couplet a complete panegyric of the character he wishes to distinguish. Let me instance this by a few examples. Sometimes the compliment appears merely to be thrown out al- most as it were by chance to illustrate his meaning. So of the Duke of Chandos, whom at another time he is supposed to have intended to ridicule under the character of Timon : — " Thus gracious Chandos is beloved at gigbt." Then of Lord Corabury : — ■ "Would ye be blest V despise low joys, low gain*, Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains." Of General Ogjetliorpe, the founder of Georgia : — THR POETRY OF POPE. 123 " Cue driv'u by strong benevolence of soul, Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to polo." These have reference to manly virtues ; sometimes there is the same oblique reference to female claims : — " Hence Beauty, waking all lier tints, supplies An angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes." At other times the eulogium is more direct. Take that fine application to Lord Cobham of the effect of man's ruling passion, developing itself in death, which he has been pursuing through a number of instances, the man of pleasure, the miser, the glutton, the cour- tier, the coquette, all, for the most part, under circum- stances derogatory to the pride of human natui'e, when he thus sums them up : — • " And you, brave Cobham, to the latest breath Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death ; Such, in these moments, as in all the past, ' Oh, save my country. Heaven !' shall be your last." How beautiful is the couplet to Dr. Arbuthnot, his physician and friend : — 124 THE POETKY OF POPE. "Friend of my life ! which did not you prolong. The world had wanted many an idle song." How ingenious that to the famous PhiHp Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, on being desired to write some lines in an album with his pencil : — " Accept a miracle instead of wit, See two dull lines by Stanhope's pencil writ." How happy is the allusion to Lord Peterborough, who made a brilliant campaign in Spain within a wonder- fully short time. He represents him as assisting to lay out his grounds : — " And he whose lightning pierced th' Iberian lines Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks my vines, Or tames the genius of the stubborn plain, Almost as quickly as he conquered Spain." He always speaks of Murray, the great Lord Mansfield, with pride and affection. It is true that one of the worst lines he ever wrote is about him, the second in this couplet : — " Graced as thou art with all the power of words. So known, so honored, at the House of Lords. " THE POETRY OF POPE. 126 An instance how much deUcacy it requires to introduce with effect familiar names and things ; sometimes it tells with great force ; here it is disastrously prosaic ; we almost forgive it, however, when he turns from the Palace of Westminster to the Abbey opposite : — "Where Murray, long enough his country's pride. Shall h3 no more than Tully, or than Hyde." He again alludes to the aptitude for poetical composi- tion which Murray had exhibited, and also to the talent for epigram which he assumes that the great orator Pulteney would have displayed if he had not been en- grossed by pohtics. " How sweet an Ovid, Murray, was our boast ; How many Martials were in Pulteney lost." These were for the most part his political friends, but when he mentions Sir Robert Walpole, to whom his friends, more than himself, were virulently opposed, how respectful and tender is the reproach, how adroit and insinuating the praise :— 126 THE POETRY OF POPE. " Seen him I have, but in his happier hour, Of social pleasure, ill exchanged for power, — Seen him, uncumbered with a venal tribe, Smile without art, and win without a bribe." I might adduce many other instances ; I might quote at full length the noble epistle to Lord Oxford, but I will sum up this topic with that striking passage in which, while he enumerates the persons who encour- aged and fostered his earlier productions, he presents us with a gallery of illustrious portraits, sometimes conveys by a single word an insight into their whole character, and concludes the distinguished catalogue Avith the name of that St. John whom he uniformly regarded with feelings little short of idolatry, and which, however misplaced and ill-grounded, have even in themselves something of the poetical attribute : — " But why then publish ? Cranville the polite. And knowing Walsh would tell me I could write ; Well-natured Garth, inflamed with early praise, And Congreve loved, and Swift endured, my lays. (Observe how the gentle and amiable Congreve THE POETRY OF POPE. 127 "loved," and the caustic and cynical Swift "en- dured.") The courtly Talbot, Somers, Sheffield, read, E'en mitred Rochester would nod the head, (said to have been the ordinary symptom of Bishop Atterbury being pleased ; then comes the swelling climax,) And St. John's self, great Drytlen's friend before, With open arms received one Poet more. Happy the studies, when by these approved. Happier the author, when by these beloved." I feel that I ought not entirely to omit all mention of the long satiric poem of the Dunciad, upon which Pope evidently bestowed much care and labor ; but it is throughout disfigured by great ill-nature, and by a per- vading run of unpleasant and unsavory images. There is much spirit in the account of the young high-born Dunce, who makes, what is called, the Grand Tour : — " Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too ;" and tells how he 128 THE POETRY OF POPE. "Judicious drank, and, greally daring, dined." There is a luscious kind of burlesque softness in these lines, " To happy convQnts, bosomed deep in vines. Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines ; To isles of fragrance, lily-silvered vales. Diffusing languor in the panting gales ; To lands of singing and of dancing slaves. Love-whispering woods, and lute resounding waves." One of the most distinguishing excellencies of Pope is the vividness which he imparts to all the pictures he presents to the mind, and which he attains by always making use of the very most appropriate terms which the matter admits. This, in conjunction with his won- derful power of compression, which he has probably carried further than any one before or since, gives a terseness and completeness to all he says, in which he is unrivalled. As instances of this perfect picture painting, I would refer you, as I must not indefinitely indulge in long citations, to the descriptions, all in the same Epistle on Riches, of the Miser's House, the THE POETRY OF POPE. 129 Man of Ross's charities, and of the death of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham : — " In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, The floors of plaister, and the walls of dung, On once a flock bed, but repaired with straw. With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red. Great Villiers lies — alas ! how changed from him. That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim !" If any should object that this is all very finished and elaborate, but it is very minute — only miniature paint- ing after all, what do you say to this one couplet on the operations of the Deity ? ** Builds life on death, on change duratfcn founds. And gives the eternal wheels to know Iheir rounds." I would beg any of the detractors of Pope to furnish me with another couple of lines from any author what- ever, which inclose so much sublimity of meaning within such compressed limits, and such precise terms. I must cite another passage, in which he ventures on the same exalted theme, with somewhat more enlarge- 130 THE POETRY OF POPE. ment ; it would be impossible, however, for you to hear it, and bring against it any charge of diffuseness : — " All are but parts of one stupendous whole. Whose body nature is, and God the soul ; That, changed through all, and yet in all the same, Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame ; Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze. Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees. Lives through all life, extends through all extent. Spreads undivided, operates unspent. (There is a couplet indeed.) Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part. As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart ; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns. As the rapt seraph that adores and burns ; To Him no high, no low, no great, no small ; He fills, he boimds, connects, and equals all." Let me invite yoiir attention to the few following lines on the apportionment of separate instincts or qualities to different animals, and be good enough to observe how the single words clench the whole argu- ment. They are as descriptive as the bars of Haydn's music in the Oratorio of the Creation : — THE POETRY OF POPE. 131 " What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam ; Of smell, the headlong lioness between, And hound sagacious on the tainted green ; Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood. To that which warbles through the vernal wood ; The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine. Feels at each thread, and lives along the line." What a couplet again is that ! It is only about a spider ; but I guarantee its immortality. If I set down the Terse, the Accurate, the Complete, the pungency of the Satiric point, the felicity of the well turned Compliment, as the distinctive features of Pope's poetical excellence, it should not escape us that there are occasions when he reaches»a high degree of moral energy and ardor. I have purposely excluded from our present consideration all scrutiny and dissec- tion of Pope's real inner character. I am aware, that, taking it in the most favorable light, it can only be re- garded as formed of mixed and imperfect elements ; but I cannot refuse to myself the belief that when the Poet speaks in such strains as these, they in some de- gree reflect and embody the spirit of the Man. I 132 THE POETRY OF POPE. quote from his animated description of the triumph of vice : — " Let Greatness own her, and she's mean no more ; Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess. Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless ; In golden chains the willing world she draws, And hers the Gospel is, and hers the laws ; Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, And sees pale virtue carted in her stead. Lo ! at the wheels of her triumphal car, Old England's genius, rough with many a scar, Dragg'd in the dust! his arms hang idly round. His flag inverted trails along the ground !" And, again, with more special reference to himself, " Ask you what provocation I have had '! The strong antipathy of good to bad. When truth or virtue an affront endures, Th' affront is mine, my friend, and should be yours. Yes, 1 am proud, I must be proud to see. Men not afraid of God, afraid of me : Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch 'd and sham'd by ridicule alone. O sacred weapon ! left for truth's defence, Sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence; THE POETRY OJ? POFE. 133 To all but heav'n-directed hands denyM, The muse may give thee, but the gods must guide : Rev'rent I touch thee ! but With honest zeal ; To rouse the watchmen of the public weal, To virtue's work provoke the tardy Hall, And goad the prelate slumbering in his stall. Let envy howl, while heav'n's whole chorus sings, And bark at honor not conferr'd by kings ; Let flatt'ry sick'ning see the incense rise, Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies : Truth guards the poet, sanctifies the line, And makes Immortal, verse as mean as mine." My limits, more than ray materials, warn me that I must desist. As, however, with reference to the single object which I have all along had in view, I think it more politic that I should let the words of Pope, rather than my own, leave the last echoes on your ear, I should like to conclude this address with his own con- cluding lines to perhaps the most important and highly wrought of his poems, the " Essay on Man." They appear to me calculated to leave an appropriate im- pression of that orderly and graceful muse, whose at- tractions I have, feebly I know and inadequately, but with the honesty and warmth of a thorough sincerity, 134 THE POETRY OF POPE. endeavored to place before you; if I mistake not, you will trace in them, as in his works at large, the same perfect propriety of expression, the same refined sim- plicity of idea, the same chastened felicity of imagery, all animated and warmed by that feeling of devotion for Bolingbroke, which pervaded his poetry and his hfe :— " Come then, my friend ! my genius ! come along ; Oh master of the poet, and the song ! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, To fall with dignity, with temper rise ; Porm'd by thy converse, happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe ; Correct with spirit, elegant with ease, Intent to reason, or polite to please. Oh ! while along the stream of time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame ; Say, shall my little bark attendantjsail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale ? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Shall then this verse to future age pretend Thou wert my guide, philosopher and friend, — THE rOETRT OF POPE. 135 That urg'd by tUee, I turn'd the tuneful art From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart ; For wit's false mirror held up nature's light ; Show'd erring pride, whatever is, is right : That reason, passion, answer one great aim ; That true self-love and social are the same ; That virtue only makes our bliss below ; And all our knowledge is ourselves to know." Gentlemen of the jury, that is my case. ^.aM -T*'^'* 6iXl >^^^ 006 0,, 0,7 7