last perfection the classical vein of English poetry;" understanding by the term, that style which, originally imported from the continent at the restoration, had already displaced the pure and original school of English poetry before Pope began to write; but we cannot assent to the further assertion of the same critic, that Pope "inherited also the wealth of his predecessors." We will allow him to be the 'facile princeps' of the classical continental school, but we do not think that he is for a moment to be compared with the masters of that old English one from which there had been so lamentable an apostacy just before he began to write. Of the style of this school, at the head of which we consent to place our poet, it has been observed, in language not more elegant than just, "It was a witty, and a grand, and a splendid style. It showed more scholarship and art than the luxuriant negligence of the old English school; and was not only free from many of its hazards and some of its faults, but possessed merits of its own, of a character more likely to please those who had then the power of conferring celebrity, or condemning to derision. Then it was a style which it was peculiarly easy to justify by argument; and in support of which, great authorities, as well as imposing reasons, were always ready to be produced. It came upon us with the air and the pretension of being the style of cultivated Europe, and a true copy of the style of polished antiquity. England, on the other hand, had had but little intercourse with the rest of the world for a considerable period of time. Her language was not at all studied on the continent, and her native authors had not been taken into account in forming those ideal standards of excellence which had been recently constructed in France and Italy upon the authority of the Roman classics, and of their own most celebrated writers. When the comparison came to be made, therefore, it is easy to imagine that it should generally be thought to be very much to our disadvantage, and to understand how the great multitude, even among ourselves, should be dazzled with the pretensions of the fashionable style of writing, and actually feel ashamed of their own richer and more varied productions. It would greatly exceed our limits to describe accurately the particulars in which this new continental style differed from our old insular one; but, for our present purpose, it may be enough perhaps to say, that it was more worldly and more townish,-holding more of reason, and ridicule, and authority,--more elaborate and more assuming,— addressed more to the judgment than to the feelings, and somewhat ostentatiously accommodated to the habits, or supposed habits, of persons in fashionable life. Instead of tenderness and fancy, we had satire and sophistry,-artificial declamation, in place of the spontaneous animations of genius, and for the universal language of Shakspeare, the personalities, the party politics, and the brutal obscenities of Dryden.'

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The publication of 'The Dunciad' forms a remarkable era in Pope's life. From this period he became the object of the most inveterate antipathy to the whole tribe of dunces, whom he had so severely lashed in that exquisite satire. He had already received much annoyance from various quarters, without condescending to bestow any notice upon his assailants; but at last his spirit was roused, and he resolved to crush all his adversaries by one strong and decisive blow. Accordingly he put forth

Edinburgh Review, vol. xviii. pp. 279, 280.

all his strength on this production. It cost him, he says of it himself, as much pains as any thing he ever wrote; and the effect was prodigious. One universal how! from the party of the dunces showed how severely they felt their castigation. Pope contemplated his victory with great exultation; and such, says Dr Johnson, was his delight in the tumult he had raised, that for a while his natural sensibility was suspended, and he read the bitterest reproaches and invectives without emotion, considering them only as the necessary effects of that pain which he rejoiced to have given. It is to be regretted that Pope should have made The Dunciad a general receptacle for all his resentments, whether just or unjust. In subsequent editions, however, he made many alterations upon it; and its hero, who was at first Theobald, became at last Colley Cibber.

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His Essay on Man' appeared betwixt the years 1732 and 1734. He seems to have had considerable misgivings as to the probable reception it might meet with, for he published its four successive parts anonymously. His apprehensions were for its ethics; its poetry he knew was worthy of his fame, but he was conscious that the opinions set forth in this essay might not be received with equal favour. The philosophy of the Essay on Man' was indeed not Pope's but Bolingbroke's. Pope regarded Bolingbroke as an oracle, and, in this performance, did nothing more than translate into sounding verse his oracles, philosophical maxims, and reasonings. The theology and morality of this essay were attacked by Crousay and defended by Warburton, in a series of very elaborate papers in some of the periodicals of the day. Pope received the services of Warburton with great gratitude, and rendered him some very important services in return, by introducing him to the notice of his titled and powerful friends.

Betwixt the years 1731 and 1738, Pope wrote and published a variety of miscellaneous pieces, consisting of Epistles, Satires, Imitations of Horace, and Dialogues. Nothing can exceed the point and pungency of some of these minor pieces; "he whipped the gilded follies and humble sins of the wealthy" with a most unmerciful hand; and his boldness in the selection of his characters was honourable to his independence and fearlessness of character. When the exquisitely finished Atossa was read to the duchess of Marlborough, as the portrait of another lady, she instantly recognised her own likeness, and broke out into one of her raging fits. Walpole says that she ultimately gave the poet £1000 to suppress it; and that he did so during the duchess's life, but meanly and faithlessly published it after her death. This grievous charge has been since implicitly received, and even Mr Bowles has condescended to repeat it, although there is no direct evidence whatever for it, and all the weight of moral evidence on the point is entirely in Pope's favour. It is certain that he refused to insert a good character of the duke himself, though offered a considerable sum if he would do so by the duchess of Marlborough; and it has been justly remarked that "he whose principles would not allow him to accept a considerable sum to insert a good character of the duke, would hardly have taken a thousand pounds to suppress a bad one of the duchess."

Pope died on the 30th of May, 1744. He had been afflicted with asthma for several years previous to his death, but his last illness carried him off in the course of four weeks. He died with composure after having received the sacrament at the hands of a Catholic priest. The

works of Pope were published soon after his death, by his friend and executor Warburton, in nine volumes. Dr Joseph Warton published another edition, in 1797, containing some trifling poems and a few letters which had not appeared in Warburton's edition. Mr Bowles republished this last edition, in 1806, in ten volumes, with a life and notes, and some concluding observations on the poetical character of Pope, which raised a furious debate among the critics.

Mr Bowles asserts that "images drawn froin what is beautiful and sublime in nature, are more poetical than images drawn from art, and that the passions are more adapted to poetry than the manners;" arguing from these maxims, he proceeds to show that Pope was not a poet in the highest sense of the term. Mr Campbell, one of his principal opponents, argues, in opposition to this, that "the exquisite description of artificial objects and manners is no less characteristic of genius than the description of simple physical appearances." The following excellent observations upon this controversy are from the article in the Quarterly Review,' to which reference has been made more than once in the course of this article "It is clear to us that a theory, which, frequently admitting every thing the votary of Pope could desire to substantiate the high genius of his inaster, yet terminates in excluding the poet from the highest order of poets,' must involve some fallacy; and this we presume we have discovered in the absurd attempt to raise a criterion of poetical talents.' Such an artificial test is repugnant to the man of taste who can take enlarged views, and to the experience of the true critic. In the contrast of human tempers and habits, in the changes of circumstances in society, and the consequent mutations of tastes, the objects of poetry may be different in different periods; pre-eminent genius obtains its purpose by its adaptation to this eternal variety; and, on this principle, if we would justly appreciate the creative faculty, we cannot see why Pope should not class, at least in file, with Dante, or Milton. It is probable that Pope could not have produced an 'Inferno,' or a 'Paradise Lost,' for his invention was elsewhere: but it is equally probable that Dante and Milton, with their cast of mind, could not have so exquisitely touched the refined gaiety of The Rape of the Lock.' It has frequently been attempted to raise up such arbitrary standards and such narrowing theories of art; and these 'criterions' and 'invariable principles' have usually been drawn from the habitual practices and individual tastes of the framers; they are a sort of concealed egotism, a stratagem of self-love. When Mr Bowles informs us that one of the essential qualities of a poet is to have an eye attentive to and familiar with (for so he strengthens his canons of criticism) every external appearance of nature, every change of season, every variation of light. and shade, every rock, every tree, every leaf, every diversity of hue,' &c.; we all know who the poet is that Mr Bowles so fondly describes. 'Here, Pope,' he adds, from infirmities and from physical causes, was particularly deficient.' In artificial life he perfectly succeeded; how minute in his description when he describes what he is master of! for instance, the game of ombre in the Rape of the Lock.-' If he had been gifted with the same powers of observing outward nature, I have no doubt he would have exhibited as much accuracy in describing the appropriate beauties of the forest where he lived, as he was able to describe in a manner so novel and with colours so vivid a game of cards.'

It happened, however, that Pope preferred in-door to out-door nature; but did this require inferior skill or less of the creative faculty than Mr Bowles's nature? In Pope's artificial life we discover a great deal of nature; and in Mr Bowles's nature, or poetry, we find much that is artificial. On this absurd principle of definition and criterion, Mr Wordsworth, who is often by genius so true a poet, is by his theory so mistaken a one. Darwin too ascertained that the invariable principle of poetry,' or, in his own words, the essence of poetry, was picture.' This was a convenient principle for one whose solitary talent lay in the minute pencillings of his descriptions; and the idea was instantly adopted as being so consonant to nature, and to Alderman Boydell, that our author-painters now asserted that if the excellence of a poem consisted in forming a picture, the more perfect poetry would be painting itself: -in consequence of this 'invariable principle of poetry,' Mr Shee, in his brilliant Rhymes on Art,' declared that the narrative of an action is not comparable to the action itself before the eyes,' and Barry arlently exclaimed, that 'painting is poetry realized !' To detract from what itself is excellent, by parallels with another species of excellence, or by trying it by some arbitrary criterion, will ever terminate, as here, in false criticism and absurd depreciation."

Jonathan Swift.

BORN A. D. 1667.-DIED A. D. 1745.

JONATHAN SWIFT, poet, politician, divine, and wit, one of the most accomplished and remarkable men in an age which has been characterized as the Augustine era of English literature, was the son of an Irish gentleman of good family but very straitened circumstances. His mother was an English lady, a native of Leicestershire, whose ancient genealogy was also her principal inheritance. The father died in 1667, leaving an infant-daughter, and his pregnant widow, to the care of a brother, in whose house, in Hoey's-court, Dublin, Jonathan Swift was born, on the 30th of November, 1667.

At the age of six the orphan was sent to school at Kilkenny. His mother had returned to her native country within two years after her husband's death, but her boy remained in charge of a faithful nurse under his uncle's roof. In 1682 young Swift was received as a pensioner into Trinity college, Dublin; a cousin of his, who afterwards became rector of Puttenham in Surrey, and who advanced claims to a share in the authorship of The Tale of a Tub,' to which he was by no means entitled, accompanied Swift to college. At the university, he seems to have pursued his studies in a very fitful and desultory manner, besides being guilty of many irregularities and violent breaches of academical decorum. When he took his bachelor's degree it bore to have been granted speciali gratiâ, or of the unearned favour of the senate; and at last he, and five of his associates, received a public admonition for notorious neglect of duties. The reproof, however merited, failed to work the reformation of one of the culprits at least, for we soon afterwards find Swift convicted of insolent conduct towards Dean Lloyd, and suspended from his academical degree in consequence. In

this fact we have, probably, the secret of that keen dislike to his Alma Mater, and to Dr Lloyd, which appears in his writings.

In 1688 Swift left college, and joined his mother in Leicestershire. Mrs Swift was related to the lady of Sir William Temple, and that accomplished statesman and scholar took young Swift into his house as an amanuensis. King William occasionally visited Temple, and Swift was so far honoured with the confidence of both as to be permitted to be present at their confidential interviews. Swift's conversational powers amused his majesty, while his quick and keen penetration was probably of use to Sir William in these interviews. The king offered him a troop of horse, which he respectfully declined, but his hopes of church preferment were now justly excited.

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In 1692 Swift was admitted of Hart's hall, Oxford, and in the same year took his master's degree at that university. He appears to have been very graciously received at Oxford. About this time he produced his Pindaric Odes,' "the only kind of writing which he seriously attempted without attaining excellence," says one of his biographers, whose opinion must be deferred to on such a point. But," Sir Walter Scott adds, "after all the vituperation which has been heaped upon these odes, they are not, generally speaking, worse than the pindarics of Donne and Cowley, which, in the earlier part of the century, gained these authors unbounded applause." The bard is said to have consulted Dryden as to the merit of these poetical prolusions, and to have received the staggering reply, which he never forgot, "Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.'

In 1694 Swift went to Ireland, and took orders. His first preferment was the prebend of Kilroot, in the diocese of Connor, with about £100 a-year. He resided a short time on his living, but threw it up the following year, and returned to his old patron Sir William Temple, with whom he continued to reside till his death in 1699. We have elsewhere noticed the foolish controversy betwixt Temple and Wotton concerning the superiority of ancient or modern learning, and in which Bentley and Boyle also took part: Swift aided his patron on this occasion, and drew up a satirical piece, entitled 'The Battle of the Books,' in which he assailed the Bentleians and Wottonians with those weapons which he knew so well how to use. His Tale of a Tub' appears to have been completed about this time also. But neither of these pieces were given to the public till 1704.

After the death of Sir William Temple, Swift accepted an invitation to attend the earl of Berkeley, one of the lords-justices of Ireland, to that country, as chaplain and private secretary. A Mr Buske, however, contrived to interfere in the matter of this appointment so effectually that Swift left his lordship's house in disgust, and gave vent to his irritated feelings in one or two bitter satires. To pacify him, Lord Berkeley presented him with the rectory of Agher, and the vicarages of Laracor and Rathbeggan, to which the prebend of Dunlavin was afterwards added, making altogether an income of betwixt £350 and £400.

In 1701, when Lords Somers, Oxford, Halifax, and Portland, were impeached, Swift published a discourse on the contentions between the

'See D'Israeli's Quarrels of Authors,' vol. fii. p. 298,