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and Epistles are those of historical or actual persons. The principal ground for doubt is found in Pope's own words (Satires and Epistles, 1. 42), 'A hundred smart in Timon or in Balaam,' &c. It is true that in these lines Pope is speaking only of the Moral Epistles, in which some fictitious characters are certainly introduced as illustrations. But really the lines referred to are only an artifice of Pope to disguise the fact that in Timon he did mean the Duke of Chandos. And we have to set against any weight which these lines may possess in the question his own declaration (Satires and Epistles, Advertisement, p. 23), 'Many will know their own pictures in it, there not being a circumstance but what is true; but I have, for the most part, spared their names, and they may escape being laughed at, if they please.'

But a more decisive proof that real characters are intended is an examination in detail of all the personal allusions. These in the Satires and Epistles amount to seventy-five. Of these many are named without disguise. Of those that are veiled under a pseudonym, some are so clearly indicated as to leave no room for doubt. Others are known by a tradition which may be traced up to the time of publication. There remain a few allusions which we cannot with certainty identify. (1) All the editors agree in filling up the blank, Satires and Epistles, 2. 120, with the name of Marlborough, but on what evidence I do not know. (2) In 2. 49, Mr. Carruthers explains 'Avidien or his wife' of Edward Wortley Montagu and Lady Mary, an interpretation which appears doubtful, though from the context it cannot be doubted that real persons are intended. (3) In 1. 49, Dr. Bennet affirmed that Lord Ilchester and Lord Holland were meant. But see note on the passage. (4) In 2. 87, the 'three ladies' cannot now be identified, yet Warburton, who himself cannot give the names, gives us to understand that the allusion was to fact. Other uncertain references are noticed in their place. It is true of the whole of Pope's satirical writings that there are very few fancy characters. So little did he care for playing with shadows, that even the personages in the farce Three Hours after Marriage (in which he assisted Gay and Arbuthnot) represent living persons.

As Pope's pictures, then, are all portraits, it becomes necessary to know something of the characters which are brought upon the stage. It is true that the execution and literary beauties of his verse may be appreciated without this knowledge; yet not then wholly, inasmuch as the appropriateness of the touches is one of the elements of our judgment. But Pope is also a landmark in the literary and social history of England. There has accumulated round Pope's poems a mass of biographical anecdote such as surrounds the writings of no other English author. The student of our literature will find that his enjoyment of the wit of the Satires and Epistles is increased exactly in proportion as he extends his knowledge of the period.

It would be useful to begin by reading over a summary of the public events of the reign of George II. For this purpose, Lord Stanhope's History of England offers a convenient and elegant abridgment. Mr. Carruthers' Life of Pope, 2nd edition, 1858, will be found to embody in an interesting narrative most of the ascertained facts about the poet and his works. For more complete information, the Memoirs, and other publications of the time, referred to in the Notes at the end of this volume should be consulted. Nothing further has been attempted in these Notes than to indicate to the student the sources of illustration. He should in no case rest satisfied with the information the Notes afford. They are a mere key to the explanatory literature, and not a substitute for it.

Not only

Pope's orthography is careless and inconsistent. proper names, but ordinary words, are spelt in different ways at different times. But in this also he was the man of his age. It may be a question if his errors should be corrected. But it cannot be right to reduce the orthography of 1730-40 to the conventional standard now established. The text therefore of Warburton's ed. 1751 has been scrupulously retained, errors, press or clerical, alone excepted.

LINCOLN COLLEGE,

January, 1872.

M. P.

SATIRES AND EPISTLES.

PROLOGUE.

An Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THIS paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begun many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occasions offered. I had no thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased some persons of rank and fortune (the authors of Verses to the imitator of Horace, and of an Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a nobleman at Hampton Court) to attack, in a very extraordinary manner, not only my writings (of which, being public, the public is judge), but my person, morals, and family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requisite. Being divided between the necessity to say something of myself, and my own laziness to undertake so aukward a task, I thought it the shortest way to put the last hand to this epistle. If it have anything pleasing, it will be that by which I am most desirous to please, the truth and the sentiment; and if anything offensive, it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend, the vicious or the ungenerous.

Many will know their own pictures in it, there being not a circumstance but what is true; but I have, for the most part, spared their names, and they may escape being laughed at, if they please.

I would have some of them know, it was owing to the request of the learned and candid friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make not as free use of theirs as they have done of mine. However, I shall have this advantage, and honour, on my side, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can possibly be done by mine, since a nameless character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness.

P.

P.

HUT, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd I said,
Tye up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.

The dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt,
All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out:

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,

They rave, recite, and madden round the land.

What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide?
They pierce my thickets, thro' my grot they glide,
By land, by water, they renew the charge,

They stop the chariot, and they board the barge. ΙΟ
No place is sacred, not the church is free,
Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me:
Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
Happy to catch me, just at dinner-time.

Is there a parson, much be-mus'd in beer,
A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer,

A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross,
Who pens a stanza, when he should engross?
Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, scrawls
With desp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls?
All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain.
Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws,
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause:
Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope,

And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope.

Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong,
The world had wanted many an idle song)
What drop or nostrum can this plague remove?
Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love?
A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped.
If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead.
Seiz'd and ty'd down to judge, how wretched I!
Who can't be silent, and who will not lye:
To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace,
And to be grave, exceeds all pow'r of face.

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30

I sit with sad civility, I read

With honest anguish, and an aching head;
And drop at last, but in unwilling ears,

This saving counsel, 'Keep your piece nine years.' 40
Nine years! cries he, who high in Drury-lane,
Lull'd by soft zephyrs thro' the broken pane,
Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before term ends,
Oblig'd by hunger, and request of friends:

'The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it,
I'm all submission, what you'd have it, make it.'
Three things another's modest wishes bound,
My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.
Pitholeon sends to me: 'You know his Grace,
'I want a patron; ask him for a place.'
Pitholeon libell'd me—' but here's a letter
Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no better.
Dare you refuse him? Curl invites to dine,
He'll write a journal, or he'll turn divine.'

Bless me! a packet.-"'Tis a stranger sues,

A virgin tragedy, an orphan muse.'

If I dislike it, 'Furies, death and rage!'

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If I approve, Commend it to the stage.'
There, thank my stars, my whole commission ends,
The players and I, are, luckily, no friends.
Fir'd that the house reject him, ''Sdeath I'll print it,
And shame the fools-Your int'rest, Sir, with Lintot.'
Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much :
'Not, Sir, if you revise it, and retouch.'

All my demurs but double his attacks;
At last he whispers, 'Do; and we go snacks.'
Glad of a quarrel, strait I clap the door,
Sir, let me see your works and you no more.

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