'attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemical concurrence. Men of the 'most opposite opinions have united upon this topic. Warton and Churchill began it, having borrowed 'the hint probably from the heroes of the Dunciad, ' and their own internal conviction that their proper reputation can be as nothing till the most perfect and harmonious of poets-he who, having no fault, ' has had REASON made his reproach-was reduced to 'what they conceived to be his level; but even they ' dared not degrade him below Dryden. Goldsmith, ' and Rogers, and Campbell, his most successful disciples; and Hayley, who, however feeble, has left 6 one poem "that will not be willingly let die," (the Triumphs of Temper,) kept up the reputation of 'that pure and perfect style; and Crabbe, the first ' of living poets, has almost equalled the master. Then came Darwin, who was put down by a single poem in the Antijacobin; and the Cruscans, from Merry to Jerningham, who were annihilated (if Nothing can be said to be annihilated) by Gifford, the last of the wholesome English satirists.

.

These three personages, S**, W **, and C * * ' had all of them a very natural antipathy to Pope, and 'I respect them for it, as the only original feeling or principle which they have contrived to preserve. 'But they have been joined in it by those who have 'joined them in nothing else: by the Edinburgh Re'viewers, by the whole heterogeneous mass of living English poets, excepting Crabbe, Rogers, Gifford, and Campbell, who, both by precept and practice, have proved their adherence; and by me, who ' have shamefully deviated in practice, but have ever

6 loved and honoured Pope's poetry with my whole soul, and hope to do so till my dying day. I would ' rather see all I have ever written lining the same trunk in which I actually read the eleventh book of ' a modern Epic poem at Malta in 1811, (I opened it 'to take out a change after the paroxysm of a tertian, ' in the absence of my servant, and found it lined ' with the name of the maker, Eyre, Cockspur-street, ' and with the Epic poetry alluded to,) than sacrifice what I firmly believe in as the Christianity of English poetry, the poetry of Pope.

'Nevertheless, I will not go so far as ** in his postscript, who pretends that no great poet ever had immediate fame, which, being interpreted, means that is not quite so much read by his cotempo'raries as might be desirable. This assertion is as false as it is foolish. Homer's glory depended upon 'his present popularity: he recited,—and without the strongest impression of the moment, who would have gotten the Iliad by heart, and given it to tradition? Ennius, Terence, Plautus, Lucretius, Horace, Virgil, Eschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Sappho, Anacreon, 'Theocritus, all the great poets of antiquity, were the delight of their cotemporaries *. The very existence

As far as regards the poets of ancient times, this assertion is, perhaps, right; though, if there be any truth in what Ælian and Seneca have left on record, of the obscurity, during their lifetime, of such men as Socrates and Epicurus, it would seem to prove that, among the ancients, contemporary fame was a far more rare reward of literary or philosophical eminence than among us moderns. When the Clouds' of Aristophanes was exhibited before the assembled deputies of the towns of Attica, these personages, as Ælian tells us, were unanimously of opinion, that the character of an unknown person, called Socrates, was uninteresting upon the stage; and Seneca has given the substance of an authentic letter of Epicurus, in which that philosopher declares that nothing hurt him so much, in the midst of all his happiness, as to think that Greece, illa nobilis Græcia,-so far from knowing him, had scarcely even heard of his existence.-Epist. 79.

' of a poet, previous to the invention of printing, de

pended upon his present popularity; and how often ' has it impaired his future fame? Hardly ever.

His

· tory informs us, that the best have come down to us. The reason is evident: the most popular found the greatest number of transcribers for their MSS., and that the taste of their cotemporaries was corrupt can hardly be avouched by the moderns, the mightiest of 'whom have but barely approached them. Dante, 'Petrarch, Ariosto, and Tasso, were all the darlings ' of the cotemporary reader. Dante's poem was cele'brated long before his death; and, not long after 'it, States negotiated for his ashes, and disputed for 'the sites of the composition of the Divina Comme'dia. Petrarch was crowned in the Capitol. Ariosto was permitted to pass free by the public robber who ' had read the Orlando Furioso. I would not recommend Mr. ** to try the same experiment with his 'Smugglers. Tasso, notwithstanding the criticisms ' of the Cruscanti, would have been crowned in the 'Capitol, but for his death.

'It is easy to prove the immediate popularity of the 'chief poets of the only modern nation in Europe that ' has a poetical language, the Italian. In our own, Shakspeare, Spenser, Jonson, Waller, Dryden, Con'greve, Pope, Young, Shenstone, Thomson, Johnson, Goldsmith, Gray, were all as popular in their lives 'as since. Gray's Elegy pleased instantly, and eter'nally. His Odes did not, nor yet do they please like 'his Elegy. Milton's politics kept him down; but 'the Epigram of Dryden, and the very sale of his work, in proportion to the less reading time of its publication, prove him to have been honoured by his cotemporaries. I will venture to assert, that the

'sale of the Paradise Lost was greater in the first four years after its publication than that of " the 'Excursion," in the same number, with the difference ' of nearly a century and a half between them of time, and of thousands in point of general readers.

'It may be asked, why, having this opinion of the 'present state of poetry in England, and having had it long, as my friends and others well know-pos'sessing, or having possessed too, as a writer, the ear ' of the public for the time being-I have not adopted ' a different plan in my own compositions, and en'deavoured to correct rather than encourage the taste. of the day. To this I would answer, that it is 'easier to perceive the wrong than to pursue the right, and that I have never contemplated the prospect "of filling (with Peter Bell, see its Preface) 'permanently a station in the literature of the country." Those who know me best, know this, and that I have been considerably astonished at the temporary success of my works, having flattered no person and no party, and expressed opinions which 6 are not those of the general reader. Could I have anticipated the degree of attention which has been 'accorded, assuredly I would have studied more to ' deserve it. But I have lived in far countries abroad, 'or in the agitating world at home, which was not 'favourable to study or reflection; so that almost all I have written has been mere passion,-passion, it is true, of different kinds, but always passion for in 'me (if it be not an Irishism to say so) my indifference was a kind of passion, the result of expe'rience, and not the philosophy of nature. Writing grows a habit, like a woman's gallantry: there are 'women who have had no intrigue, but few who have

6

'had but one only; so there are millions of men who ' have never written a book, but few who have written ' only one. And thus, having written once, I wrote on; encouraged no doubt by the success of the moment, yet by no means anticipating its duration, and 'I will venture to say, scarcely even wishing it. But ' then I did other things besides write, which by no ' means contributed either to improve my writings or my prosperity.

6

I have thus expressed publicly upon the poetry of 'the day the opinion I have long entertained and ex'pressed of it to all who have asked it, and to some

who would rather not have heard it; as I told 'Moore not very long ago, "we are all wrong except Rogers, Crabbe, and Campbell." Without being 'old in years, I am in days, and do not feel the adequate spirit within me to attempt a work which 'should show what I think right in poetry, and 'must content myself with having denounced what 6 is wrong. There are, I trust, younger spirits rising

up

in England, who, escaping the contagion which 'has swept away poetry from our literature, will recall it to their country, such as it once was and may ' still be.

* I certainly ventured to differ from the judgment of my noble friend, no less in his attempts to depreciate that peculiar walk of the art in which he himself so grandly trod, than in the inconsistency of which I thought him guilty, in condemning all those who stood up for particular 'schools of poetry, and yet, at the same time, maintaining so exclusive a theory of the art himself. How little, however, he attended to either the grounds or degrees of my dissent from him, will appear by the following wholesale report of my opinion, in his Detached Thoughts:'

One of my notions different from those of my cotemporaries, is, 'that the present is not a high age of English poetry. There are more 'poets (soi-disant) than ever there were, and proportionally less poetry. This thesis I have maintained for some years, but, strange to say, it 'meeteth not with favour from my brethren of the shell. Even Moore Ishakes his head, and firmly believes that it is the grand age of British poesy,'