Books: Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore, Pope
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Samuel Johnson >> Lives of the English Poets: Prior, Congreve, Blackmore, Pope
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Of the Epistle from "Eloisa to Abelard," I do not know the date.
His first inclination to attempt a composition of that tender kind
arose, as Mr. Savage told me, from his perusal of Prior's "Nut-brown
Maid." How much he has surpassed Prior's work it is not necessary
to mention, when perhaps it may be said, with justice, that he has
excelled every composition of the same kind. The mixture of
religious hope and resignation gives an elevation and dignity to
disappointed love, which images merely natural cannot bestow. The
gloom of a convent strikes the imagination with far greater force
than the solitude of a grove. This piece was, however, not much his
favourite in his later years, though I never heard upon what
principle he slighted it.
In the next year (1713) he published "Windsor Forest," of which part
was, as he relates, written at sixteen, about the same time as his
Pastorals, and the latter part was added afterwards. Where the
addition begins we are not told. The lines relating to the peace
confess their own date. It is dedicated to Lord Lansdowne, who was
then in high reputation and influence among the Tories; and it is
said that the conclusion of the poem gave great pain to Addison,
both as a poet and a politician. Reports like this are often spread
with boldness very disproportionate to their evidence. Why should
Addison receive any particular disturbance from the last lines of
"Windsor Forest"? If contrariety of opinion could poison a
politician, he could not live a day; and, as a poet, he must have
felt Pope's force of genius much more from many other parts of his
works. The pain that Addison might feel it is not likely that he
would confess; and it is certain that he so well suppressed his
discontent that Pope now thought himself his favourite, for, having
been consulted in the revisal of "Cato" he introduced it by a
prologue; and, when Dennis published his remarks, undertook, not
indeed to vindicate, but to revenge his friend, by a "Narrative of
the Frenzy of John Dennis."
There is reason to believe that Addison gave no encouragement to
this disingenuous hostility, for, says Pope, in a letter to him,
"indeed your opinion, that 'tis entirely to be neglected, would be
my own in my own case; but I felt more warmth here than I did when I
first saw his book against myself (though, indeed, in two minutes it
made me heartily merry)." Addison was not a man on whom such cant
of sensibility could make much impression. He left the pamphlet to
itself, having disowned it to Dennis, and perhaps did not think Pope
to have deserved much by his officiousness.
This year was printed in the Guardian the ironical comparison
between the pastorals of Philips and Pope, a composition of
artifice, criticism, and literature, to which nothing equal will
easily be found. The superiority of Pope is so ingeniously
dissembled, and the feeble lines of Philips so skilfully preferred,
that Steele, being deceived, was unwilling to print the paper, lest
Pope should be offended. Addison immediately saw the writer's
design, and, as it seems, had malice enough to conceal his
discovery, and to permit a publication which, by making his friend
Philips ridiculous, made him for ever an enemy to Pope.
It appears that about this time Pope had a strong inclination to
unite the art of painting with that of poetry, and put himself under
the tuition of Jervas. He was near-sighted, and therefore not
formed by nature for a painter; he tried, however, how far he could
advance, and sometimes persuaded his friends to sit. A picture of
Betterton, supposed to be drawn by him, was in the possession of
Lord Mansfield. If this was taken from the life, he must have begun
to paint earlier, for Betterton was now dead. Pope's ambition of
this new art produced some encomiastic verses to Jervas, which
certainly show his power as a poet; but I have been told that they
betray his ignorance of painting. He appears to have regarded
Betterton with kindness and esteem, and after his death published,
under his name, a version into modern English of Chaucer's Prologues
and one of his Tales, which, as was related by Mr. Harte, were
believed to have been the performance of Pope himself by Fenton, who
made him a gay offer of five pounds if he would show them in the
hand of Betterton.
The next year (1713) produced a bolder attempt, by which profit was
sought as well as praise. The poems which he had hitherto written,
however they might have diffused his name, had made very little
addition to his fortune. The allowance which his father made him,
though, proportioned to what he had, it might be liberal, could not
be large; his religion hindered him from the occupation of any civil
employment; and he complained that he wanted even money to buy
books. He therefore resolved to try how far the favour of the
public extended by soliciting a subscription to a version of the
"Iliad," with large notes. To print by subscription was, for some
time, a practice peculiar to the English. The first considerable
work for which this expedient was employed is said to have been
Dryden's "Virgil," and it had been tried again with great success
when the Tatlers were collected into volumes.
There was reason to believe that Pope's attempt would be successful.
He was in the full bloom of reputation and was personally known to
almost all whom dignity of employment or splendour of reputation had
made eminent; he conversed indifferently with both parties, and
never disturbed the public with his political opinions; and it might
be naturally expected, as each faction then boasted its literary
zeal, that the great men, who on other occasions practised all the
violence of opposition, would emulate each other in their
encouragement of a poet who delighted all, and by whom none had been
offended. With these hopes, he offered an English "Iliad" to
subscribers, in six volumes in quarto, for six guineas, a sum
according to the value of money at that time by no means
inconsiderable, and greater than I believe to have been ever asked
before. His proposal, however, was very favourably received, and
the patrons of literature were busy to recommend his undertaking and
promote his interest. Lord Oxford, indeed, lamented that such a
genius should be wasted upon a work not original, but proposed no
means by which he might live without it. Addison recommended
caution and moderation, and advised him not to be content with the
praise of half the nation when he might be universally favoured.
The greatness of the design, the popularity of the author, and the
attention of the literary world, naturally raised such expectations
of the future sale, that the booksellers made their offers with
great eagerness; but the highest bidder was Bernard Lintot, who
became proprietor on condition of supplying, at his own expense, all
the copies which were to be delivered to subscribers, or presented
to friends, and paying two hundred pounds for every volume.
Of the quartos it was, I believe, stipulated that none should be
printed but for the author, that the subscription might not be
depreciated; but Lintot impressed the same pages upon a small folio,
and paper perhaps a little thinner, and sold exactly at half the
price, for half a guinea each volume, books so little inferior to
the quartos that, by fraud of trade, those folios being afterwards
shortened by cutting away the top and bottom, were sold as copies
printed for the subscribers.
Lintot printed two hundred and fifty on royal paper in folio for two
guineas a volume; of the small folio, having printed seventeen
hundred and fifty copies of the first volume, he reduced the number
in the other volumes to a thousand. It is unpleasant to relate that
the bookseller, after all his hopes and all his liberality, was, by
a very unjust and illegal action, defrauded of his profit. An
edition of the English "Iliad" was printed in Holland in duodecimo,
and imported clandestinely for the gratification of those who were
impatient to read what they could not yet afford to buy. This fraud
could only be counteracted by an edition equally cheap and more
commodious; and Lintot was compelled to contract his folio at once
into a duodecimo, and lose the advantage of an intermediate
gradation. The notes which in the Dutch copies were placed at the
end of each book as they had been in the large volumes, were now
subjoined to the text in the same page, and are therefore more
easily consulted. Of this edition two thousand five hundred were
first printed, and five thousand a few weeks afterwards; but indeed
great numbers were necessary to produce considerable profit.
Pope, having now emitted his proposals, and engaged not only his own
reputation but in some degree that of his friends who patronised his
subscription, began to be frightened at his own undertaking, and
finding himself at first embarrassed with difficulties which
retarded and oppressed him, he was for a time timorous and uneasy,
had his nights disturbed by dreams of long journeys through unknown
ways, and wished, as he said, "that somebody would hang him." This
misery, however, was not of long continuance; he grew by degrees
more acquainted with Homer's images and expressions, and practice
increased his facility of versification. In a short time he
represents himself as despatching regularly fifty verses a day,
which would show him by an easy computation, the termination of his
labour. His own diffidence was not his only vexation. He that asks
a subscription soon finds that he has enemies. All who do not
encourage him defame him. He that wants money would rather be
thought angry than poor; and he that wishes to save his money
conceals his avarice by his malice. Addison had hinted his
suspicion that Pope was too much a Tory; and some of the Tories
suspected his principles because he had contributed to the Guardian,
which was carried on by Steele.
To those who censured his politics were added enemies more
dangerous, who called in question his knowledge of Greek, and his
qualifications for a translator of "Homer." To these he made no
public opposition, but in one of his letters escapes from them as
well as he can. At an age like his, for he was not more than
twenty-five, with an irregular education and a course of life of
which much seems to have passed in conversation, it is not very
likely that he overflowed with Greek. But when he felt himself
deficient he sought assistance, and what man of learning would
refuse to help him? Minute inquiries into the force of words are
less necessary in translating Homer than other poets, because his
positions are general, and his representations natural, with very
little dependence on local or temporary customs, on those changeable
scenes of artificial life, which, by mingling original with
accidental notions and crowding the mind with images which time
effaces, produces ambiguity in dictation and obscurity in books. To
this open display of unadulterated nature it must be ascribed that
Homer has fewer passages of doubtful meaning than any other poet
either in the learned or in modern languages. I have read of a man
who, being by his ignorance of Greek compelled to gratify his
curiosity with the Latin printed on the opposite page, declared that
from the rude simplicity of the lines literally rendered he formed
nobler ideas of the Homeric majesty than from the laboured elegance
of polished versions. Those literal translations were always at
hand, and from them he could easily obtain his author's sense with
sufficient certainty and among the readers of Homer the number is
very small of those who find much in the Greek more than in the
Latin, except the music of the numbers.
If more help was wanting he had the poetical translation of Eobanus
Hessus, an unwearied writer of Latin verses; he had the French
Homers of La Valterie and Dacier, and the English of Chapman,
Hobbes, and Ogilby. With Chapman, whose work, though now totally
neglected, seems to have been popular almost to the end of the last
century, he had very frequent consultations, and perhaps never
translated any passage till he had read his version, which he indeed
has been sometimes suspected of using instead of the original.
Notes were likewise to be provided, for the six volumes would have
been very little more than six pamphlets without them. What the
mere perusal of the text could suggest Pope wanted no assistance to
collect or methodise; but more was necessary. Many pages were to be
filled, and learning must supply materials to wit and judgment.
Something might be gathered from Dacier, but no man loves to be
indebted to his contemporaries, and Dacier was accessible to common
readers. Eustathius was therefore necessarily consulted. To read
Eustathius, of whose work there was then no Latin version, I suspect
Pope if he had been willing not to have been able. Some other was
therefore to be found who had leisure as well as abilities, and he
was doubtless most readily employed who would do much work for
little money.
The history of the notes has never been traced. Broome, an his
preface to his poems, declares himself the commentator "in part upon
the 'Iliad,'" and it appears from Fenton's letter, preserved in the
Museum, that Broome was at first engaged in consulting Eustathius;
but that after a time, whatever was the reason, he desisted.
Another man of Cambridge was then employed, who soon grew weary of
the work, and a third, that was recommended by Thirlby, is now
discovered to have been Jortin, a man since well known to the
learned world, who complained that Pope, having accepted and
approved his performance, never testified any curiosity to see him,
and who professed to have forgotten the terms on which he worked.
The terms which Fenton uses are very mercantile: "I think at first
sight that his performance is very commendable, and have sent word
for him to finish the seventeenth book, and to send it with his
demands for his trouble. I have here enclosed the specimen; if the
rest come before the return, I will keep them till I receive your
order."
Broome then offered his service a second time, which was probably
accepted, as they had afterwards a closer correspondence. Parnell
contributed the "Life of Homer," which Pope found so harsh, that he
took great pains in correcting it; and by his own diligence, with
such help as kindness or money could procure him, in somewhat more
than five years he completed his version of the "Iliad," with the
notes. He began it in 1712, his twenty-fifth year, and concluded it
in 1718, his thirtieth year. When we find him translating fifty
lines a day, it is natural to suppose that he would have brought his
work to a more speedy conclusion. The "Iliad," containing less than
sixteen thousand verses, might have been despatched in less than
three hundred and twenty days by fifty verses in a day. The notes,
compiled with the assistance of his mercenaries, could not be
supposed to require more time than the text. According to this
calculation, the progress of Pope may seem to have been slow; but
the distance is commonly very great between actual performances and
speculative possibility. It is natural to suppose, that as much as
has been done to-day may be done to-morrow; but on the morrow some
difficulty emerges, or some external impediment obstructs.
Indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure, all take their
turns of retardation; and every long work is lengthened by a
thousand causes that can, and ten thousand that cannot, be
recounted. Perhaps no extensive and multifarious performance was
ever effected within the term originally fixed in the undertaker's
mind. He that runs against time has an antagonist not subject to
casualties.
The encouragement given to this translation, though report seems to
have overrated it, was such as the world has not often seen. The
subscribers were five hundred and seventy-five. The copies, for
which subscriptions were given, were six hundred and fifty-four; and
only six hundred and sixty were printed. For these copies Pope had
nothing to pay. He therefore received, including the two hundred
pounds a volume, five thousand three hundred and twenty pounds, four
shillings, without deduction, as the books were supplied by Lintot.
By the success of his subscription Pope was relieved from those
pecuniary distresses with which, notwithstanding his popularity, he
had hitherto struggled. Lord Oxford had often lamented his
disqualification for public employment, but never proposed a
pension. While the translation of "Homer" was in its progress, Mr.
Craggs, then Secretary of State, offered to procure him a pension,
which, at least during his ministry, might be enjoyed with secrecy.
This was not accepted by Pope, who told him, however, that, if he
should be pressed with want of money, he would send to him for
occasional supplies. Craggs was not long in power, and was never
solicited for money by Pope, who disdained to beg what he did not
want.
With the product of this subscription, which he had too much
discretion to squander, he secured his future life from want, by
considerable annuities. The estate of the Duke of Buckingham was
found to have been charged with five hundred pounds a year, payable
to Pope, which doubtless his translation enabled him to purchase.
It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity, that I deduce thus
minutely the history of the English "Iliad." It is certainly the
noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen, and its
publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events
in the annals of learning. To those who have skill to estimate the
excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very
desirable to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it
advanced to correctness. Of such an intellectual process the
knowledge has very rarely been attainable; but happily there remains
the original copy of the "Iliad," which, being obtained by
Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him to Mallet, and is
now, by the solicitation of the late Dr. Maty, reposited in the
Museum. Between this manuscript, which is written upon accidental
fragments of paper, and the printed edition, there must have been an
intermediate copy, that was perhaps destroyed as it returned from
the press.
From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall
exhibit first the printed lines; then, in a small print, those of
the manuscripts, with all their variations. Those words in the
small print, which are given in italics, are cancelled in the copy,
and the words placed under them adopted in their stead:
The beginning of the first book stands thus:-
The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring
Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing,
That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain.
The stern Pelides' rage, O Goddess, sing,
wrath
Of all the woes of Greece too fatal spring,
Grecian
That screwed with warriors dead the Phrygian plain,
heroes
And peopled the dark with heroes slain:
filled the shady hell with chiefs untimely
Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore,
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove;
Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.
Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore,
Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore,
Since first Atrides and Achilles strove;
Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.
Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour
Sprung the fierce strife from what offended Power?
Latona's son a dire contagion spread,
And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead;
The King of Men his reverend priest defied,
And for the King's offence the people died.
Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power
Enflamed their rage in that ill-omened hour;
anger fatal, hapless
Phoebus himself the dire debate procured,
fierce
To avenge the wrongs his injured priest endured;
For this the god a dire infection spread,
And heaped the camp with millions of the dead:
The King of men the sacred sire defied,
And for the King's offence the people died.
For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the Victor's chain;
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands,
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down,
Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown.
For Chryses sought by presents to regain
costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the Victor's chain;
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Apollo's awful ensigns graced his hands.
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down
The golden sceptre and the laurel crown,
Presents the sceptre
For these as ensigns of his god he bare,
The god who sends his golden shaft afar;
Then low on earth the venerable man,
Suppliant before the brother kings began.
He sued to all, but chief implored for grace,
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race;
Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crowned,
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.
To all he sued, but chief implored for grace
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race.
Ye sons of Atreus, may your vows be crowned,
kings and warriors
Your labours, by the gods be all your labours crowned;
So may the gods your arms with conquest bless,
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;
Till laid
And crown your labours with desired success;
May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.
But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,
And give Chryses to these arms again;
If mercy fail, yet let my present move,
And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.
But, oh! relieve a hapless parent's pain,
And give my daughter to these arms again;
Receive my gifts, if mercy fails, yet let my present move,
And fear the god who deals his darts around,
avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.
The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare,
The priest to reverence, and release the fair:
Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,
Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied.
He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the generous Greeks relent,
To accept the ransom, and restore the fair:
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent;
Not so the tyrant; he, with kingly pride,
Atrides,
Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied
[Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN.]
Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there
was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with
interlineations.
The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed
page, and is therefore set down without any parallel. The few
slight differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.
Now pleasing sleep had sealed each mortal eye:
Stretched in the tents the Grecian leaders lie;
The Immortals slumbered on their thrones above,
All but the ever-wakeful eye of Jove.
To honour Thetis' son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.
Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night:
directs
Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,
To Agamemnon's royal tent repair;
Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train,
March all his legions to the dusty plain.
Now tell the King 'tis given him to destroy
Declare even now
The lofty walls of wide-extended Troy;
towers
For now no more the gods with fate contend;
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hovers o'er yon devoted wall,
hangs
And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.
Invocation to the catalogue of ships.
Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!
Since earth's wide regions, heaven's unmeasured height,
And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know),
Oh! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,
Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came!
To count them all demands a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass and adamantine lungs.
Now virgin goddesses, immortal nine!
That round Olympus' heavenly summit shine,
Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound,
And all things know, and all things can resound!
Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,
What nations followed, and what chiefs command;
(For doubtful fame distracts mankind below,
And nothing can we tell, and nothing know)
Without your aid, to count the unnumbered train,
A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.
Book V. v. 1.
But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,
Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires:
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguished praise,
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;
The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.
But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,
Fills with her rage, and warms with all her fires;
force
O'er all the Greeks decrees his fame to raise,
Above the Greeks her warrior's fame to raise,
his deathless
And crown her hero with immortal praise:
distinguished
Bright from his beamy crest the lightnings play,
High on helm
From his broad buckler flashed the living ray;
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;
The goddess with her breath the flame supplies,
Bright as the star whose fires in autumn rise;
Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies,
Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies:
The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.
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