Life of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 29

"Thy _needles_, once a s.h.i.+ning store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and s.h.i.+ne no more, My Mary,"

contain a simple, household, "_indoor_," artificial, and ordinary image; I refer Mr. Bowles to the stanza, and ask if these three lines about "_needles_" are not worth all the boasted twaddling about trees, so triumphantly re-quoted? and yet, in _fact_, what do they convey? A homely collection of images and ideas, a.s.sociated with the darning of stockings, and the hemming of s.h.i.+rts, and the mending of breeches; but will any one deny that they are eminently poetical and pathetic as addressed by Cowper to his nurse? The trash of trees reminds me of a saying of Sheridan's. Soon after the "Rejected Address" scene in 1812, I met Sheridan. In the course of dinner, he said, "Lord Byron, did you know that, amongst the writers of addresses, was Whitbread himself?" I answered by an enquiry of what sort of an address he had made. "Of that," replied Sheridan, "I remember little, except that there was a _phoenix_ in it."--"A phoenix!! Well, how did he describe it?"--"_Like a poulterer_,"

answered Sheridan: "it was green, and yellow, and red, and blue: he did not let us off for a single feather." And just such as this poulterer's account of a phoenix is Cowper's stick-picker's detail of a wood, with all its petty minutiae of this, that, and the other.]

And now that we have heard the Catholic repreached with envy, duplicity, licentiousness, avarice--what was the Calvinist? He attempted the most atrocious of crimes in the Christian code, viz.

suicide--and why? because he was to be examined whether he was fit for an office which he seems to wish to have made a sinecure. His connection with Mrs. Unwin was pure enough, for the old lady was devout, and he was deranged; but why then is the infirm and then elderly Pope to be reproved for his connection with Martha Blount: Cowper was the almoner of Mrs. Throgmorton; but Pope's charities were his own, and they were n.o.ble and extensive, far beyond his fortune's warrant. Pope was the tolerant yet steady adherent of the most bigoted of sects; and Cowper the most bigoted and despondent sectary that ever antic.i.p.ated d.a.m.nation to himself or others. Is this harsh?

I know it is, and I do not a.s.sert it as my opinion of Cowper _personally_, but to _show what might_ be said, with just as great an appearance of truth and candour, as all the odium which has been acc.u.mulated upon Pope in similar speculations. Cowper was a good man, and lived at a fortunate time for his works.

[Footnote: One more poetical instance of the power of art, and even its _superiority_ over nature, in poetry; and I have done:--the bust of _Antinous_! Is there any thing in nature like this marble, excepting the Venus? Can there be more _poetry_ gathered into existence than in that wonderful creation of perfect beauty? But the poetry of this bust is in no respect derived from nature, nor from any a.s.sociation of moral exaltedness; for what is there in common with moral nature, and the male minion of Adrian? The very execution is _not natural_, but _super_-natural, or rather _super-artificial,_ for nature has never done so much.

Away, then, with this cant about nature, and "invariable principles of poetry!" A great artist will make a block of stone as sublime as a mountain, and a good poet can imbue a pack of cards with more poetry than inhabits the forests of America. It is the business and the proof of a poet to give the lie to the proverb, and sometimes to "_make a silken purse out of a sow's ear_;" and to conclude with another homely proverb, "a good workman will not find fault with his tools."]

Mr. Bowles, apparently not relying entirely upon his own arguments, has, in person or by proxy, brought forward the names of Southey and Moore. Mr. Southey "agrees entirely with Mr. Bowles in his _invariable_ principles of poetry." The least that Mr. Bowles can do in return is to approve the "invariable principles of Mr. Southey." I should have thought that the word "_invariable_" might have stuck in Southey's throat, like Macbeth's "Amen!" I am sure it did in mine, and I am not the least consistent of the two, at least as a voter.

Moore _(et tu, Brute!_) also approves, and a Mr. J. Scott. There is a letter also of two lines from a gentleman in asterisks, who, it seems, is a poet of "the highest rank:"--who _can_ this be? not my friend, Sir Walter, surely. Campbell it can't be; Rogers it won't be.

"You have _hit the nail in_ the head, and * * * *

[Pope, I presume] _on_ the head also.

"I _remain_ yours, affectionately, "(Five _Asterisks_.)"

And in asterisks let him remain. Whoever this person may be, he deserves, for such a judgment of Midas, that "the nail" which Mr.

Bowles has "hit _in_ the head," should he driven through his own ears; I am sure that they are long enough.

The attempt of the poetical populace of the present day to obtain an ostracism against Pope is as easily accounted for as the Athenian's sh.e.l.l against Aristides; they are tired of hearing him always called "the Just." They are also fighting for life; for, if he maintains his station, they will reach their own by falling. They have raised a mosque by the side of a Grecian temple of the purest architecture; and, more barbarous than the barbarians from whose practice I have borrowed the figure, they are not contented with their own grotesque edifice, unless they destroy the prior, and purely beautiful fabric which preceded, and which shames them and theirs for ever and ever. I shall be told that amongst those I _have_ been (or it may be, still _am_) conspicuous--true, and I am ashamed of it. I _have_ been amongst the builders of this Babel, attended by a confusion of tongues, but _never_ amongst the envious destroyers of the cla.s.sic temple of our predecessor. I have loved and honoured the fame and name of that ill.u.s.trious and unrivalled man, far more than my own paltry renown, and the trashy jingle of the crowd of "Schools" and upstarts, who pretend to rival, or even surpa.s.s him. Sooner than a single leaf should be torn from his laurel, it were better that all which these men, and that I, as one of their set, have ever written, should

"Line trunks, clothe spice, or, fluttering in a row, Befringe the rails of Bedlam, or Soho!"

There are those who will believe this, and those who will not. You, sir, know how far I am sincere, and whether my opinion, not only in the short work intended for publication, and in private letters which can never be published, has or has not been the same. I look upon this as the declining age of English poetry; no regard for others, no selfish feeling, can prevent me from seeing this, and expressing the truth. There can be no worse sign for the taste of the times than the depreciation of Pope. It would be better to receive for proof Mr.

Cobbett's rough but strong attack upon Shakspeare and Milton, than to allow this smooth and "candid" undermining of the reputation of the most _perfect_ of our poets, and the purest of our moralists. Of his power in the _pa.s.sions_, in description, in the mock heroic, I leave others to descant. I take him on his strong ground as an _ethical_ poet: in the former, none excel; in the mock heroic and the ethical, none equal him; and in my mind, the latter is the highest of all poetry, because it does that in _verse_, which the greatest of men have wished to accomplish in prose. If the essence of poetry must be a _lie_, throw it to the dogs, or banish it from your republic, as Plato would have done. He who can reconcile poetry with truth and wisdom, is the only true "_poet_" in its real sense, "the _maker_"

"the _creator_,"--why must this mean the "liar," the "feigner," the "tale-teller?" A man may make and create better things than these.

I shall not presume to say that Pope is as high a poet as Shakspeare and Milton, though his enemy, Warton, places him immediately under them.[1] I would no more say this than I would a.s.sert in the mosque (once Saint Sophia's), that Socrates was a greater man than Mahomet.

But if I say that he is very near them, it is no more than has been a.s.serted of Burns, who is supposed

"To rival all but Shakspeare's name below."

[Footnote 1: If the opinions cited by Mr. Bowles, of Dr. Johnson _against_ Pope, are to be taken as decisive authority, they will also hold good against Gray, Milton, Swift, Thomson, and Dryden: in that case what becomes of Gray's poetical, and Milton's moral character?

even of Milton's _poetical_ character, or, indeed, of _English_ poetry in general? for Johnson strips many a leaf from every laurel.

Still Johnson's is the finest critical work extant, and can never be read without instruction and delight.]

I say nothing against this opinion. But of what "_order_," according to the poetical aristocracy, are Burns's poems? There are his _opus magnum_, "Tam O'Shanter," a _tale_; the Cotter's Sat.u.r.day Night, a descriptive sketch; some others in the same style: the rest are songs. So much for the _rank_ of his _productions_; the _rank_ of _Burns_ is the very first of his art. Of Pope I have expressed my opinion elsewhere, as also of the effect which the present attempts at poetry have had upon our literature. If any great national or natural convulsion could or should overwhelm your country in such sort, as to sweep Great Britain from the kingdoms of the earth, and leave only that, after all, the most living of human things, a _dead language_, to be studied and read, and imitated by the wise of future and far generations, upon foreign sh.o.r.es; if your literature should become the learning of mankind, divested of party cabals, temporary fas.h.i.+ons, and national pride and prejudice; an Englishman, anxious that the posterity of strangers should know that there had been such a thing as a British Epic and Tragedy, might wish for the preservation of Shakspeare and Milton; but the surviving world would s.n.a.t.c.h Pope from the wreck, and let the rest sink with the people. He is the moral poet of all civilisation; and as such, let us hope that he will one day be the national poet of mankind. He is the only poet that never shocks; the only poet whose _faultlessness_ has been made his reproach. Cast your eye over his productions; consider their extent, and contemplate their variety:--pastoral, pa.s.sion, mock heroic, translation, satire, ethics,--all excellent, and often perfect. If his great charm be his _melody_, how comes it that foreigners adore him even in their diluted translations? But I have made this letter too long. Give my compliments to Mr. Bowles.

Yours ever, very truly,

BYRON.

_To John Murray, Esq_.

_Post Scriptum_.--Long as this letter has grown, I find it necessary to append a postscript; if possible, a short one. Mr. Bowles denies that he has accused Pope of "a sordid money-getting pa.s.sion;" but, he adds, "if I had ever done so, I should be glad to find any testimony that, might show he was _not_ so." This testimony he may find to his heart's content in Spence and elsewhere. First, there is Martha Blount, who, Mr. Bowles charitably says, "probably thought he did not save enough for her, as legatee." Whatever she _thought_ upon this point, her words are in Pope's favour. Then there is Alderman Barber; see Spence's Anecdotes. There is Pope's cold answer to Halifax when he proposed a pension; his behaviour to Craggs and to Addison upon like occasions, and his own two lines--

"And, thanks to Homer, since I live and thrive, Indebted to no prince or peer alive;"

written when princes would have been proud to pension, and peers to promote him, and when the whole army of dunces were in array against him, and would have been but too happy to deprive him of this boast of independence. But there is something a little more serious in Mr.

Bowles's declaration, that he "_would_ have spoken" of his "n.o.ble generosity to the outcast Richard Savage," and other instances of a compa.s.sionate and generous heart, "_had they occurred to his recollection when he wrote_." What! is it come to this? Does Mr.

Bowles sit down to write a minute and laboured life and edition of a great poet? Does he anatomise his character, moral and poetical? Does he present us with his faults and with his foibles? Does he sneer at his feelings, and doubt of his sincerity? Does he unfold his vanity and duplicity? and then omit the good qualities which might, in part, have "covered this mult.i.tude of sins?" and then plead that "_they did not occur to his recollection_?" Is this the frame of mind and of memory with which the ill.u.s.trious dead are to be approached? If Mr.

Bowles, who must have had access to all the means of refres.h.i.+ng his memory, did not recollect these facts, he is unfit for his task; but if he _did_ recollect and omit them, I know not what he is fit for, but I know what would be fit for him. Is the plea of "not recollecting" such prominent facts to be admitted? Mr. Bowles has been at a public school, and as I have been publicly educated also, I can sympathise with his predilection. When we were in the third form even, had we pleaded on the Monday morning, that we had not brought up the Sat.u.r.day's exercise, because "we had forgotten it," what would have been the reply? And is an excuse, which would not be pardoned to a schoolboy, to pa.s.s current in a matter which so nearly concerns the fame of the first poet of his age, if not of his country? If Mr.

Bowles so readily forgets the virtues of others, why complain so grievously that others have a better memory for his own faults? They are but the faults of an author; while the virtues he omitted from his catalogue are essential to the justice due to a man.

Mr. Bowles appears, indeed, to be susceptible beyond the privilege of authors.h.i.+p. There is a plaintive dedication to Mr. Gifford, in which _he_ is made responsible for all the articles of the Quarterly. Mr.

Southey, it seems, "the most able and eloquent writer in that Review," approves of Mr. Bowles's publication. Now it seems to me the more impartial, that notwithstanding that "the great writer of the Quarterly" entertains opinions opposite to the able article on Spence, nevertheless that essay was permitted to appear. Is a review to be devoted to the opinions of any _one_ man?

Must it not vary according to circ.u.mstances, and according to the subjects to be criticised? I fear that writers must take the sweets and bitters of the public journals as they occur, and an author of so long a standing as Mr. Bowles might have become accustomed to such incidents; he might be angry, but not astonished. I have been reviewed in the Quarterly almost as often as Mr. Bowles, and have had as pleasant things said, and some _as unpleasant_, as could well be p.r.o.nounced. In the review of "The Fall of Jerusalem" it is stated, that I have devoted "my powers, &c. to the worst parts of Manicheism;" which, being interpreted, means that I wors.h.i.+p the devil. Now, I have neither written a reply, nor complained to Gifford. I believe that I observed in a letter to you, that I thought "that the critic might have praised Milman without finding it necessary to abuse me;" but did I not add at the same time, or soon after, (a propos, of the note in the book of Travels,) that I would not, if it were even in my power, have a single line cancelled on my account in that nor in any other publication? Of course, I reserve to myself the privilege of response when necessary. Mr. Bowles seems in a whimsical state about the author of the article on Spence. You know very well that I am not in your confidence, nor in that of the conductor of the journal. The moment I saw that article, I was morally certain that I knew the author "by his style." You will tell me that I do _not know_ him: that is all as it should be; keep the secret, so shall I, though no one has ever intrusted it to me. He is not the person whom Mr. Bowles denounces. Mr. Bowles's extreme sensibility reminds me of a circ.u.mstance which occurred on board of a frigate in which I was a pa.s.senger and guest of the captain's for a considerable time. The surgeon on board, a very gentlemanly young man, and remarkably able in his profession, wore a _wig_. Upon this ornament he was extremely tenacious. As naval jests are sometimes a little rough, his brother officers made occasional allusions to this delicate appendage to the doctor's person. One day a young lieutenant, in the course of a facetious discussion, said, "Suppose now, doctor, I should take off your _hat_,"--"Sir," replied the doctor, "I shall talk no longer with you; you grow _scurrilous_." He would not even admit so near an approach as to the hat which protected it. In like manner, if any body approaches Mr. Bowles's laurels, even in his outside capacity of an _editor_, "they grow _scurrilous_." You say that you are about to prepare an edition of Pope; you cannot do better for your own credit as a publisher, nor for the redemption of Pope from Mr. Bowles, and of the public taste from rapid degeneracy.

OBSERVATIONS UPON "OBSERVATIONS"

A SECOND LETTER TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ. ON THE REV. W.L. BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF POPE.

_Now first published_.

Ravenna, March 25. 1821.

Dear Sir,

In the further "Observations" of Mr. Bowles, in rejoinder to the charges brought against his edition of Pope, it is to be regretted that he has lost his temper. Whatever the language of his antagonists may have been, I fear that his replies have afforded more pleasure to them than to the public. That Mr. Bowles should not be pleased is natural, whether right or wrong; but a temperate defence would have answered his purpose in the former case--and, in the latter, no defence, however violent, can tend to any thing but his discomfiture.

I have read over this third pamphlet, which you have been so obliging as to send me, and shall venture a few observations, in addition to those upon the previous controversy.

Mr. Bowles sets out with repeating his "_confirmed conviction_," that "what he said of the moral part of Pope's character was, generally speaking, true; and that the principles of _poetical_ criticism which he has laid down are _invariable_ and _invulnerable_," &c.; and that he is the _more_ persuaded of this by the "_exaggerations_ of his opponents." This is all very well, and highly natural and sincere.

n.o.body ever expected that either Mr. Bowles, or any other author, would be convinced of human fallibility in their own persons. But it is nothing to the purpose--for it is not what Mr. Bowles thinks, but what is to be thought of Pope, that is the question. It is what he has a.s.serted or insinuated against a name which is the patrimony of posterity, that is to be tried; and Mr. Bowles, as a party, can be no judge. The more _he_ is persuaded, the better for himself, if it give him any pleasure; but he can only persuade others by the proofs brought out in his defence.

After these prefatory remarks of "conviction," &c. Mr. Bowles proceeds to Mr. Gilchrist; whom he charges with "slang" and "slander," besides a small subsidiary indictment of "abuse, ignorance, malice," and so forth. Mr. Gilchrist has, indeed, shown some anger; but it is an honest indignation, which rises up in defence of the ill.u.s.trious dead. It is a generous rage which interposes between our ashes and their disturbers. There appears also to have been some slight personal provocation. Mr. Gilchrist, with a chivalrous disdain of the fury of an incensed poet, put his name to a letter avowing the production of a former essay in defence of Pope, and consequently of an attack upon Mr. Bowles. Mr. Bowles appears to be angry with Mr. Gilchrist for four reasons:--firstly, because he wrote an article in "The London Magazine;" secondly, because he afterwards avowed it; thirdly, because he was the author of a still more extended article in "The Quarterly Review;" and, fourthly, because he was NOT the author of the said Quarterly article, and had the audacity to disown it--for no earthly reason but because he had NOT written it.

Mr. Bowles declares, that "he will not enter into a particular examination of the pamphlet," which by a _misnomer_ is called "Gilchrist's Answer to Bowles," when it should have been called "Gilchrist's Abuse of Bowles." On this error in the baptism of Mr.

Gilchrist's pamphlet, it may be observed, that an answer may be abusive and yet no less an answer, though indisputably a temperate one might be the better of the two: but if _abuse_ is to cancel all pretensions to reply, what becomes of Mr. Bowles's answers to Mr.

Gilchrist?

Mr. Bowles continues:--"But as Mr. Gilchrist derides my _peculiar sensitiveness to criticism_, before I show how _dest.i.tute of truth is this representation_, I will here explicitly declare the only grounds," &c. &c. &c.--Mr. Bowles's sensibility in denying his "sensitiveness to criticism" proves, perhaps, too much. But if he has been so charged, and truly--what then? There is no moral turpitude in such acuteness of feeling: it has been, and may be, combined with many good and great qualities. Is Mr. Bowles a poet, or is he not? If he be, he must, from his very essence, be sensitive to criticism; and even if he be not, he need not be ashamed of the common repugnance to being attacked. All that is to be wished is, that he had considered how disagreeable a thing it is, before he a.s.sailed the greatest moral poet of any age, or in any language.

Pope himself "sleeps well,"--nothing can touch him further; but those who love the honour of their country, the perfection of her literature, the glory of her language--are not to be expected to permit an atom of his dust to be stirred in his tomb, or a leaf to be stripped from the laurel which grows over it.

Mr. Bowles a.s.signs several reasons why and when "an author is justified in appealing to every _upright_ and _honourable_ mind in the kingdom." If Mr. Bowles limits the perusal of his defence to the "upright and honourable" only, I greatly fear that it will not be extensively circulated. I should rather hope that some of the downright and dishonest will read and be converted, or convicted. But the whole of his reasoning is here superfluous--"_an author is justified in appealing_," &c. when and why he pleases. Let him make out a tolerable case, and few of his readers will quarrel with his motives.