The Rape of the Lock, and Other Poems
And now having discussed the various insertions in the 'Epistle', let us
look for a moment at the poem as a whole, and see what is the nature of
Pope's defense of himself and of his reply to his enemies.
It is cast in the form of a dialogue between the poet himself and
Arbuthnot. Pope begins by complaining of the misfortunes which his
reputation as a successful man of letters has brought upon him. He is a
mark for all the starving scribblers of the town who besiege him for
advice, recommendations, and hard cash. Is it not enough to make a man
write 'Dunciads?' Arbuthnot warns him against the danger of making foes
(ll. 101- 104), but Pope replies that his flatterers are even more
intolerable than his open enemies. And with a little outburst of
impatience, such as we may well imagine him to have indulged in during
his later years, he cries:
Why did I write? What sin to me unknown
Dipt me in ink, my parents' or my own?
and begins with l. 125 his poetical autobiography. He tells of his first
childish efforts, of poetry taken up "to help me thro' this long disease
my life," and then goes on to speak of the noble and famous friends who
had praised his early work and urged him to try his fortune in the open
field of letters. He speaks of his first poems, the 'Pastorals' and
'Windsor Forest', harmless as Hervey's own verses, and tells how even
then critics like Dennis fell foul of him. Rival authors hated him, too,
especially such pilfering bards as Philips. This he could endure, but
the coldness and even jealousy of such a man as Addison--and here
appears the famous portrait of Atticus--was another matter, serious
enough to draw tears from all lovers of mankind.
Passing on (l. 213) to the days of his great success when his 'Homer'
was the talk of the town, he asserts his ignorance of all the arts of
puffery and his independence of mutual admiration societies. He left
those who wished a patron to the tender mercies of Halifax, who fed fat
on flattery and repaid his flatterers merely with a good word or a seat
at his table. After all, the poet could afford to lose the society of
Bufo's toadies while such a friend as Gay was left him (l. 254).
After an eloquent expression of his wish for independence (ll. 261-270),
he goes on to speak of the babbling friends who insist that he is always
meditating some new satire, and persist in recognizing some wretched
poetaster's lampoon as his. And so by a natural transition Pope comes to
speak of his own satiric poems and their aims. He says, and rightly,
that he has never attacked virtue or innocence. He reserves his lash for
those who trample on their neighbors and insult "fallen worth," for cold
or treacherous friends, liars, and babbling blockheads. Let Sporus
(Hervey) tremble (l. 303). Arbuthnot interposes herewith an ejaculation
of contemptuous pity; is it really worth the poet's while to castigate
such a slight thing as Hervey, that "mere white curd"? But Pope has
suffered too much from Hervey's insolence to stay his hand, and he now
proceeds to lay on the lash with equal fury and precision, drawing blood
at every stroke, until we seem to see the wretched fop writhing and
shrieking beneath the whip. And then with a magnificent transition he
goes on (ll. 332-337) to draw a portrait of himself. Here, he says in
effect, is the real man that Sporus has so maligned. The portrait is
idealized, of course; one could hardly expect a poet speaking in his own
defense in reply to venomous attacks to dissect his own character with
the stern impartiality of the critics of the succeeding century, but it
is in all essentials a portrait at once impressive and true.
Arbuthnot again interrupts (l. 358) to ask why he spares neither the
poor nor the great in his satire, and Pope replies that he hates knaves
in every rank of life. Yet by nature, he insists, he is of an easy
temper, more readily deceived than angered, and in a long catalogue of
instances he illustrates his own patience and good nature (ll. 366-385).
It must be frankly confessed that these lines do not ring true. Pope
might in the heat of argument convince himself that he was humble and
slow to wrath, but he has never succeeded in convincing his readers.
With l. 382 Pope turns to the defense of his family, which, as we have
seen, his enemies had abused as base and obscure. He draws a noble
picture of his dead father, "by nature honest, by experience wise"
simple, modest, and temperate, and passes to the description of himself
watching over the last years of his old mother, his sole care to
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye
And keep a while one parent from the sky.
If the length of days which Heaven has promised those who honor father
and mother fall to his lot, may Heaven preserve him such a friend as
Arbuthnot to bless those days. And Arbuthnot closes the dialogue with a
word which is meant, I think, to sum up the whole discussion and to
pronounce the verdict that Pope's life had been good and honorable.
Whether that blessing [1] be deny'd or giv'n,
Thus far was right, the rest belongs to Heav'n.
It seems hardly necessary to point out the merits of so patent a
masterpiece as the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot'. In order to enjoy it to the
full, indeed, one must know something of the life of the author, of the
circumstances under which it was written, and, in general, of the social
and political life of the time. But even without this special knowledge
no reader can fail to appreciate the marvelous ease, fluency, and
poignancy of this admirable satire. There is nothing like it in our
language except Pope's other satires, and of all his satires it is, by
common consent, easily the first. It surpasses the satiric poetry of
Dryden in pungency and depth of feeling as easily as it does that of
Byron in polish and artistic restraint. Its range of tone is remarkable.
At times it reads like glorified conversation, as in the opening lines;
at times it flames and quivers with emotion, as in the assault on
Hervey, or in the defense of his parents. Even in the limited field of
satiric portraiture there is a wide difference between the manner in
which Pope has drawn the portrait of Atticus and that of Sporus. The
latter is a masterpiece of pure invective; no allowances are made, no
lights relieve the darkness of the shadows, the portrait is frankly
inhuman. It is the product of an unrestrained outburst of bitter
passion. The portrait of Atticus, on the other hand, was, as we know,
the work of years. It is the product not of an outburst of fury, but of
a slowly growing and intense dislike, which, while recognizing the
merits of its object, fastened with peculiar power upon his faults and
weaknesses. The studious restraint which controls the satirist's hand
makes it only the more effective. We know well enough that the portrait
is not a fair one, but we are forced to remind ourselves of this at
every step to avoid the spell which Pope's apparent impartiality casts
over our judgments. The whole passage reads not so much like the heated
plea of an advocate as the measured summing-up of a judge, and the last
couplet falls on our ears with the inevitability of a final sentence.
But the peculiar merit of the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot' consists neither in
the ease and polish of its style, nor in the vigor and effectiveness of
its satire, but in the insight it gives us into the heart and mind of
the poet himself. It presents an ideal picture of Pope, the man and the
author, of his life, his friendships, his love of his parents, his
literary relationships and aims. And it is quite futile to object, as
some critics have done, that this picture is not exactly in accordance
with the known facts of Pope's life. No great man can be tried and
judged on the mere record of his acts. We must know the circumstances
that shaped these, and the motives that inspired them. A man's ideals,
if genuinely held and honestly followed, are perhaps even more valuable
contributions to our final estimate of the man himself than all he did
or left undone.
All I could never be,
All, men ignored in me,
This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.
And in the 'Epistle to Arbuthnot' we recognize in Pope ideals of
independence, of devotion to his art, of simple living, of loyal
friendship, and of filial piety which shine in splendid contrast with
the gross, servile, and cynically immoral tone of the age and society in
which he lived.
[Footnote 1: i. e. the blessing of Arbuthnot's future companionship,
for which Pope (l. 413) had just prayed.]
ADVERTISEMENT
Dr. John Arbuthnot, one of Pope's most intimate friends, had been
physician to Queen Anne, and was a man of letters as well as a doctor.
Arbuthnot, Pope, and Swift had combined to get out a volume of
Miscellanies in 1737. His health was failing rapidly at this time, and
he died a month or so after the appearance of this 'Epistle'.
EPISTLE
'1 John:'
John Searle, Pope's faithful servant.
'4 Bedlam:'
a lunatic asylum in London in Pope's day. Notice how Pope mentions, in
the same breath, Bedlam and Parnassus, the hill of the Muses which poets
might well be supposed to haunt.
'8 thickets:'
the groves surrounding Pope's villa.
'Grot:'
see Introduction [grotto].
'10 the chariot:'
the coach in which Pope drove.
'the barge:'
the boat in which Pope was rowed upon the Thames.
'13 the Mint:'
a district in London where debtors were free from arrest. As they could
not be arrested anywhere on Sunday, Pope represents them as taking that
day to inflict their visits on him.
'15 Parson:'
probably a certain Eusden, who had some pretensions to letters, but who
ruined himself by drink.
'17 Clerk:'
a law clerk.
'18 engross:'
write legal papers.
'19-20'
An imaginary portrait of a mad poet who keeps on writing verses even in
his cell in Bedlam. Pope may have been thinking of Lee, a dramatist of
Dryden's day who was confined for a time in this asylum.
'23 Arthur:'
Arthur Moore, a member of Parliament for some years and well known in
London society. His "giddy son," James Moore, who took the name of Moore
Smythe, dabbled in letters and was a bitter enemy of Pope.
'25 Cornus:'
Robert Lord Walpole, whose wife deserted him in 1734. Horace Walpole
speaks of her as half mad.
'31 sped:'
done for.
'40'
Pope's counsel to delay the publication of the works read to him is
borrowed from Horace: "nonumque prematur in annum" '(Ars Poetica, 388).'
'41 Drury-lane,'
like Grub Street, a haunt of poor authors at this time.
'43 before Term ends:'
before the season is over; that is, as soon as the poem is written.
'48 a Prologue:'
for a play. Of course a prologue by the famous Mr. Pope would be of
great value to a poor and unknown dramatist.
'49 Pitholeon:'
the name of a foolish poet mentioned by Horace. Pope uses it here for
his enemy Welsted, mentioned in l. 373.--'his Grace:' the title given a
Duke in Great Britain. The Duke here referred to is said to be the Duke
of Argyle, one of the most influential of the great Whig lords.
'53 Curll':
a notorious publisher of the day, and an enemy of Pope. The implication
is that if Pope will not grant Pitholeon's request, the latter will
accept Curll's invitation and concoct a new libel against the poet.
'60'
Pope was one of the few men of letters of his day who had not written a
play, and he was at this time on bad terms with certain actors.
'62'
Bernard Lintot, the publisher of Pope's translation of Homer.
'66 go snacks':
share the profits. Pope represents the unknown dramatist as trying to
bribe him to give a favorable report of the play.
'69 Midas':