ADVERTISEMENT

TO THE

FIRST PUBLICATION OF THIS EPISTLE.

THIS paper is a fort of bill of complaint, begun

many years since, and drawn up by snatches, as the several occafions 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 Perfon, Morals, and Family, whereof, to those who know me not, a truer information may be requifite. Being divided between the neceffity 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 any thing pleafing, it will be that by which I am most defirous to please, the Truth, and the Sentiment; and if any thing offenfive, it will be only to those I am least forry to offend, the vicious, or the ungenerous.

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Many

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 fome 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 fide, that whereas, by their proceeding, any abuse may be directed at any man, no injury can poffibly be done by mine, since a nameless Character can never be found out, but by its truth and likeness.

POPE.

Lady Wortley Montagu begins her Address to Mr. Pope, on his Imitation of the ist Satire of the Second Book of Horace, in these words:

" In two large columns, on thy motley page,
Where Roman wit is strip'd with English rage;
Where ribaldry to fatire makes pretence,
And modern scandal rolls with ancient sense :
Whilft on one fide we fee how Horace thought,
And on the other how he never wrote :

Who can believe, who view the bad and good,
That the dull copyist better understood
That spirit he pretends to imitate,
Than heretofore the Greek he did translate ?
Thine is just such an image of his pen
As thou thyself art of the fons of men;
Where our own species in burlesque we trace,
A fign-post likeness of the noble race,
That is at once resemblance and disgrace.

Horace

Horace can laugh, is delicate, is clear;
You only coarsely rail, or darkly sneer :
His style is elegant, his diction pure,
Whilft none thy crabbed numbers can endure,
Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obfcure.
If he has thorns, they all on roses grow;
Thine like rude thistles and mean brambles show,
With this exception, that though rank the foil,
Weeds, as they are, they seem produc'd by toil.
Satire should, like a polish'd razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarely felt or seen.
Thine is an oyster-knife, that hacks and hews,
The rage, but not the talent of abuse;
And is in hate what love is in the stews;
'Tis the gross lust of hate, that still annoys
Without distinction, as gross love enjoys:
Neither to folly, nor to vice confin'd;
The object of thy spleen is human-kind :
It preys on all, who yield or who refist;
To thee 'tis provocation to exist.
But if thou see'st a great and gen'rous heart,
Thy bow is doubly bent to force a dart.
Nor only justice vainly we demand,
But even benefits can't rein thy hand :
To this or that alike in vain we truft,
Nor find thee less ungrateful than unjust."

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WARTON.

EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT.

An Apology for Himself and his Writings.

Ep. to Dr. Arbuthnot. ] Ar the time of publishing this Epistle, the Poet's patience was exhaufted by the endless impertinence of Poetasters of all ranks and conditions; as well those who courted his favour, as those who envied his reputation. So that now he had refolved to quit his hands of both together, by the publication of a DUNCIAD. This defign he communicated to his excellent friend Dr. ARBUTHNOT; who, although as a man of Wit and Learning he might not have been displeased to fee their common injuries revenged on this pernicious Tribe; yet, as our Author's friend and physician, he was folicitous of his ease and health; and therefore unwilling he should provoke so large and powerful a party.

Their difference of opinion, in this matter, gives occafion to the following Dialogue. Where, in a natural and familiar detail of all his Provocations, both from flatterers and slanderers, our Author has artfully interwoven an Apology for his moral and poetic Character.

For after having told his cafe, and humorously applied to his Phyfician in the manner one would ask for a receipt to kill Vermin, he straight goes on, in the common character of askers of advice, to tell his Doctor, that he had already taken his party, and determined of his remedy. But using a preamble, and intro. ducing it (in the way of Poets), with a fimile, in which the names of Kings, Queens, and Minifiers of State happen to be mentioned, his Friend takes the alarm, and begs him to forbear; advises him to stick to his subject, and to be easy under so com. mon a calamity.

To make fo light of his difaster provokes the Poet: he breaks. the thread of his discourse, which was to lead his Friend gently, and by degrees, into his project; and abruptly tells him the application of his fimile at once,

"Out with it, DUNCIAD! let the fecret pass," &c. But recollecting the humanity and tenderness of his Friend, which, he apprehends, might be a little shocked at the apparent severity severity of such a proceeding, he assures him, that his good-nature is alarmed without cause; for that nothing has less feeling than this fort of offenders; which he illustrates in the Examples of a damn'd Poet, a detected Slanderer, a Table-Parafite, a ChurchBuffoon, and a Party-Writer (from ver. 1. to 101.)

But, in this enumeration, coming again to Names, his Friend once more stops him; and bids him confider what hoftilities this general attack would set on foot. So much the better, replies the Poet; for, confidering the strong antipathy of bad to good, enemies they will always be, either open or secret: and it admits of no question, but a Slanderer is less hurtful than a Flatterer. For, says he, (in a pleasant Simile addressed to his Friend's profeffion)

"Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right,
It is the flaver kills, and not the bite."

And how abject and excessive the flattery of these creatures was, he shews, by observing, that they praised him even for his infirmities; his bad health, and his inconvenient shape (ver. 100 to 125.)

But still it might be said, that if he could bear this evil annexed to Authorship no better, he should not have written at all. To this he answers, by lamenting the natural bent of his disposition; which, from his very birth, had drawn him towards Poetry fo strongly, as if it were in execution of some secret decree of Heaven for crimes unknown. But though he offended in becoming an Author, he offended in nothing else. For his early verses were perfectly innocent and harmless,

" Like gentle Fanny's was my flowing theme,
A painted mistress, or a purling stream."

Yet even then, he tells us, two enraged and hungry Critics fell upon him without any provocation. But this might have been borne, as the common lot of diftinction. But it was his peculiar illfortune to create a jealousy in One; whom, not only many good offices done by our Author to him and his friends, but a fimilitude of genius and studies might have inclined to a reciprocal affection and support: On the contrary, that otherwise amiable person, being, by nature, timorous and suspicious; by education, a partyman; and, by circumstances of fortune, befet with flatterers and pick-thanks; regarded our Author as his Rival, fet up by a contrary Faction, with views destructive of public liberty, and that

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