liked him then," Pope said, "as well as I liked any man, and was very fond of his conversation." When "Cato" appeared, a year later, Pope wrote the Prologue, and for a time the poet who had previously associated with the Tories at Will's, mingled with the Whig wits at Addison's coffeehouse, saying that he scorned narrow souls of all parties. The friendship with Addison was, however, soon clouded. Dennis the critic, a man of vigorous sense, but cursed with a vile temper, having abused "Cato," Pope thought to do Addison a good turn by abusing him. At the same time, he wished to revenge a private quarrel of his own. Dennis, after the coarse fashion of the age, but not without considerable provocation, had sneered at Pope's deformity, and now his violent attack on "Cato" gave Pope the opportunity he desired. He therefore published a "Narrative descriptive of the critic's frenzy, which Addison, far from approving, reprobated in strong language, and thus there began a breach between the two wits, which culminated in the most brilliant piece of satire that ever fell from the pen of Pope. His prose "Narrative" is both coarse and dull, but no satirist ever stung more sharply in verse, and the character of Atticus is destined to live with the fame of Addison. Another indication of a misunderstanding between these rival wits seems to have occurred with regard to "The Rape of the Lock." The first issue of the poem was without the machinery of the sylphs and gnomes, afterwards suggested to Pope by a book on the mysteries of the Rosicrucians. He mentioned to Addison his design to enlarge the poem, and Addison, who could not anticipate the exquisite art by which the poet would enhance its beauty, naturally advised him to let the "delicious little thing" alone. This advice, which was certainly given in good faith, made Pope think, either at the time or afterwards, that Addison was jealous of his fame. The breach between the two was destined to widen later on. 66 66 Pope's literary jealousy was the source of another quarrel. Ambrose Philips, whose occasional verses gained for him unjustly the sobriquet of Namby-Pamby," having written some feeble pastorals, which were highly praised in the Guardian," Pope was aggrieved that his rival should be described as the chief pastoral poet since Spenser, while his own name was not mentioned. His "Pastorals" had appeared in the same volume with those of Philips, and it vexed him all the more to be told in the "Guardian" that there had been only four true masters of pastoral poetry in above two thousand years-Theocritus and Virgil, Spenser and Philips. Pope therefore hit upon a strange device for asserting his claims. He wrote a fresh paper on pastoral poetry, in which, apparently at his own expense, he gave high praise to Philips, while quoting at the same time some of his most absurd passages, and the best extracts he could select from his own. The paper was sent to the "Guardian " anonymously, and inserted by Steele, who failed to see its purport. Philips was indignant, and hanging up a birch rod at Button's, swore that if Pope ventured to the coffee-house, he would chastise him with it. "The poet," writes Mr. Courthope, may have thought he was likely to keep his word; at any rate, about this period he apparently discontinued his attendance at the club, and began to resume the company of his old associates at Will's." Pope never forgot an enemy, and 66 Ambrose Philips with his red stockings lives in the poet's verse, but he did not admit the threat of chastisement, and writes that Philips never offered him any indecorum. It is not likely that Pope would have changed his course on account of a threat, for he never gave any sign of bodily fear, and was, as Mr. Swinburne has truly said, as bold as a lion.” 66 Among Pope's early acquaintances were the two beautiful sisters, Teresa and Martha Blount. They were girls, or little more than girls, when he first knew them, and the friendship with the younger sister continued through life. Sickly and deformed though he was, Pope had a poet's sensitiveness to female beauty, and, despite an intellectual contempt for women, understood the art of making his society agreeable to them. The sisters, who sprang from an old Roman Catholic family, resided at Mapledurham, a charming spot upon the Thames within ten miles of Binfield, and there can be little doubt that in their society some of the poet's happiest days were passed. His letters to them are filled with the fine sentiments and stilted compliments that deform all his correspondence, but in spite of many absurdities it is easy to see that Pope entertained a genuine regard for these friends of his youth. More than friendship there could not be, for with all his gallantry and protestations of love, the poet knew but too well that he was not a marrying man. Among the ailments that afflicted him from his boyhood was headache, for which, after the fashion of the day, he tried the waters of Bath, and to that beautiful town, whose circus, according to Landor, has nothing in Rome or in the world to equal it, the poet generally returned year by year. From Bath, on the occasion of his first visit in 1714, he wrote to Martha Blount in his highflown style, saying, "I never thought so much of yourself and your fair sister as since I have been fourscore miles distant from you. At Binfield I look upon you as good neighbours, at London as pretty kind of women, and here as divinities, angels, goddesses, or what you will. In like manner, I never knew at what a rate I valued your life till you were upon the point of dying. If Mrs. Teresa and you will but fall sick every season, I shall certainly die for you.” It is difficult to believe that any sensible woman would be gratified with such compliments, but Pope seemed to think that to flatter was to please, and Lady Wortley Montagu, whom he afterwards abused so shamelessly, must have laughed in her sleeve when, after an evening spent in her company, the poet wrote: "Books have lost their effect upon me; and I was convinced since I saw you that there is something more powerful than philosophy, and since I heard you that there is one alive wiser than all the sages," or again: "For my part I hate a great many women for your sake, and undervalue all the rest." This however was Pope's usual style of correspondence with his lady friends, and we rarely find in it a note of sincerity. His affectation showed itself also in the wish to be thought, to quote his own expression, "a modern rake," and he writes in 1715 of sitting up till one or two o'clock every night over Burgundy and Champagne. A very slight excess must have proved too much for Pope's weak frame, but he loved what by a strange misnomer is called "good living," and injured his health by indulging in the pleasures of the table. "The least transgression of yours," MEMOIR. xxi Swift wrote, "if it be only two bits and one sup ""Twas from the bottle King derived his wit, is the comment passed upon him by Christopher 66 In 1708, Pope's good friend, Sir William Trumbull, advised him to translate the Iliad." The suggestion proved a fruitful one. In October, 1713, the poet issued his proposals for translating the poem, and invited subscriptions; and bitter as was the political feeling of the time, Whig and Tory united in promoting the undertaking. Swift, who seems to have become acquainted with c |