Remarks on Mr. Pope's Rape of the lock. In several letters to a friend. With a preface, occasion'd by the late Treatise on the profound, and the Dunciad. By Mr. Dennis

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- To the Honourable George Duckett, Esq

- PREFACE.

- LETTER I.

- LETTER II.

- LETTER III.

- LETTER IV.

- LETTER V.

- LETTER VI.

- LETTER VII.

REMARKS ON THE Rape of the Lock.

In several LETTERS to a FRIEND.

FINIS.

REMARKS ON Mr. POPE'S Rape of the LOCK.

IN Several LETTERS to a FRIEND.

With a PREFACE, Occasion'd by the late Treatise on the PROFUND, and the DUNCIAD.

By Mr. DENNIS.

LONDON, Printed for J. ROBERTS, at the Oxford Arms in Warwick-Lane. 1728. [Price 1s.]

To the Honourable George Duckett, Esq

SIR,

AS soon as I had resolved to address the following Treatise to one of the Gentlemen who was abused, together with myself, in the late infamous Libel, more than one Motive induced me to make Choice of You: For as no one was so flagrantly injur'd as Yourself, the infamous Aspersion was so open and so manifest, that there remained not the least Doubt who was the Person meant by it. An Insinuation equally base and groundless, which could have enter'd into the Head of no one who had either Sense, Honour, or Nature in him; into the Head of no one, but one whose Mind was equally out of Nature, and equally crooked and deformed with his Body. This base Insinuation was not only contrary to Truth and Justice, but even contrary to common Fame; for You are known to have that Respect, Esteem, and Affection for the most beautiful Part of the Creation, which God and Nature design'd we should have: But You have Qualities to recommend You to them, which have not been given to all, as Truth, Faith, Honour, Justice, and a Conversation, at the same time, entertaining, and instructing: These are Qualities which have recommended You to a very fine Lady, to whom You have been married many Years, and by whom You have had Eight Children, who are now living: And these are Qualities, which, as they have gain'd You the Affections of the Fair Sex, have equally recommended You to the Esteem and Respect of Ours; and more particularly of,

SIR,
Your most humble, and most obedient Servant, JOHN DENNIS.

PREFACE.

IT was towards the latter End of the Reign of Queen ANNE that I wrote Remarks upon the first hundred Lines of the late Translation of Homer, upon the Windsor Forest, upon the Rape of the Lock, and upon the infamous Temple of Fame, provok'd and urg'd to it by the Folly, the Pride, and the Petulancy of that little Gentleman A. P-E; Qualities which at that Time made me foresee and foretell, that there was no Person whatever whom he apprehended to be above him, whether by Station, Power, or Merit, but he would come impudently one Day to fly in his Face, if timely Care were not taken to chastise and correct his soaring Insolence.

It was in the Beginning of the Reign of the late KING that I order'd three of the foremention'd Treatises to be publish'd, viz. Remarks on the Translation of Homer, on Windsor Forest, and on the Temple of Fame; which was done with a Design to hold a faithful Glass to this little Gentleman, and to cure him of his vain and his wretched Conceitedness, by giving him a View of his Ignorance, his Folly, and his natural Impotence, the undoubled Causes of so many Errors and so many Imperfections.

But at the same Time that I order'd three of them to be publish'd, I took care to keep back the ensuing Treatise purposely in Terrorem; which had so good an Effect, that he endeavour'd for a time to counterfeit Humility and a sincere Repentance: And about that Time I receiv'd a Letter from him, which I have still by me, in which he acknowledg'd his Offences past, and express'd an hypocritical Sorrow for them.

But no sooner did he believe that Time had caus'd these Things to be forgot, than he relaps'd into ten times the Folly and the Madness that ever he had shewn before. He not only attack'd several Persons of far greater Merit than himself, but, like a mad Indian that runs a muck, struck at every Thing that came in his Way, without Distinction of Friend or Foe, Acquaintance or Stranger, Merit or Unworthiness, Wisdom or Folly, Vice or Virtue; like a blind Beetle, that in its blundering Flight bruises itself against every Object it meets, and does not fail to knock itself down by the impotent Blows which it gives to others.

He has not only struck at very different Persons, without any manner of Distinction, but has thrown his rhetorical Flowers, of Fool, Dunce, Blockhead, Scoundrel, promiscuously at them all; as if he wisely thought, that he was the only foul-mouth'd Fellow in England, or had so much of the Fool, Blockhead, Dunce, Scoundrel within him, that they have the same Effect on his Mind that Jaundice would have upon his Eyes, and make every Thing without him be to him in Appearance, what in Reality is within him.

Nothing is more easy than to give foul Language, which a Fool is more capable of giving to a wise Man, than a wise Man to a Fool; because nothing incapacitates a Man so much for it as good Sense, good Nature, good Breeding, and common Discretion; and nothing qualifies a Man more for it, than his being a Clown, a Fool, a Barbarian, and a Brute. The calling a Man Fool, Dunce, Blockhead, Scoundrel, if it does not find him so, it does by no means make him so. But if it does not find him so, it gives him who calls him so, an unquestionable Title to those Terms himself. As this is the Language of the Rabble of Mankind, the more any one brings himself to use it, the more he sets himself upon an infamous Level with the Scum and Off-scouring of Things.

Before I take my leave of this Subject, I cannot help reminding this little Gentlemen, en passant, that tho' his Adversaries were as many Fools, Blockheads, Dunces, as he is pleas'd, in Hononr to them, to call them; yet is he most unjust, and most ungrateful, to reflect upon any Persons for their Want of Capacity: since 'tis to People who want Understanding that he owes most of his little Fortune and all his little Reputation. For I will venture to affirm, that Mr. A. P-E has no Admirers among those who have Capacity to discern, to distinguish, and judge; and I will venture to foretell, that Time will make this Affirmation good.

Not but that I am oblig'd in Justice to own, that there are several Persons of very great Merit who subscrib'd to his Translation of Homer; but then they were Persons most of them who were induc'd to expect a very different Performance to what they found: And some were importun'd and teaz'd into that Subscription, some were drawn in by their Complaisance to their Friends, and others sacrific'd their Judgment to their Interest.

The calling a Man of the best Understanding Fool, Dunce, Blockhead, is the easiest Thing in the World (as we observ'd above) to him who is really all this himself: But for such a one to prove what he says, is absolutely impossible. Therefore in the Remarks abovemention'd, upon the Translation of Homer, upon Windsor-Forest, upon the Temple of Fame, I have given none of these Appellations to the little facetious Gentleman at whom those Pieces were levelled; but then I have prov'd in them, by convincing Reason and by undeniable Fact, that he has a greater Right to the Possession and Property of them than any other Person in Great Britain whatever. I have shewn that he was equally a Stranger to the Character, the Language, and the Meaning of Homer; that nothing qualify'd him to enter the Lists against Sir John Denham, but Impudence and Stupidity; and that the Temple of Fame, will, as long as 'tis remember'd, be to A. P-E the Temple of Infamy.

I propose to do the same Thing in the subsequent Remarks. I shall call him neither Fool, nor Dunce, nor Blockhead; but I shall prove that he is all these in a most egregious manner. 'Tis justly observ'd by the Duke of Rochfoucault, ‘That a Man may be a very great Fool notwithstanding his Wit; but that he never can be so if he has Judgment: For Imagination is common to Man with Beasts, but he enjoys Reason and Judgment in common with God and Angels.’ The impartial Reader, who knows the Rape of the Lock, and who will read the following Remarks, will be able to determine whether A. P-E has shewn one Dram of Judgment, either in the Choice of this trifling Subject, or of his more senseless Machinery, or in the Manners and Behaviour of his fine Lady, who is so very rampant, and so very a Termagant, that a Lady in the Hundreds of Drury would be severely chastis'd, if she had the Impudence in some Company to imitate her in some of her Actions. The impartial Reader is to determine whether the Sentiments are not often exceeding poor, and mean, and sometimes ridiculous; and whether the Diction is not often impure and ungrammatical.

But if the Author has not shewn one Dram of Judgment in the Piece that has been so much applauded by Readers more light than the Subject, what shall we say of the insipid Profund? What shall we say of the fulsome Dunciad? Were they not writ in perfect Spight to good Sense, to Decency, to Justice, to Gratitude, to Friendship, to Modesty? And can such a Creature as this be deserving of the noble Name of a POET, the Name and the Function which he has so much blasphem'd? Nay, can he deserve even the Name of a Versifyer, whose Ear is as injudicious and undistinguishing as the rest of his Head? The Commendation which Tasso so justly and so judiciously gives to Lucretius, is, Nobilissimo Versificatore, a most noble Versifyer: For Lucretius knew all the Variety, the Force, and the Power of Numbers; so that his Harmony in some Parts of him has never been surpass'd, not even by Virgil himself. But A. P-E has none of these distinguishing Talents, nor Variety, nor Force, nor Power of Numbers, but an eternal Monotony. His Pegasus is nothing but a batter'd Kentish Jade, that neither ambles, nor paces, nor trots, nor runs, but is always upon the Canterbury; and as he never mends, never slackens his Pace, but when he stumbles or falls. So that having neither Judgment nor Numbers, he is neither Poet nor Versifyer, but only an eternal Rhimer, a little conceited incorrigible Creature, that like the Frog in the Fable, swells and is angry because he is not allow'd to be as great as the Ox.

But if Judgment, Reason, and Numbers are wanting to his Rhimes, if we take a View of his prosaick Rhapsodies, 'tis there a thousand times worse: Not only Judgment and Reason are wanting there; but Veracity, Integrity, Honour, and Faith are wanting. A. P-E sets up for a Knight of the Post, a frank Affidavit-Man of Parnassus, falsifies Matter of Fact at Pleasure, and invents the basest Calumnies, to expose Men of Sense to Fools. In the Height of his Professions of Friendship for Mr. Addison, he could not bear the Success of Cato, but prevails upon B. L. to engage me to write and publish Remarks upon that Tragedy: Which after I had done, A. P-E, the better to conceal himself from Mr. Addison and his Friends, writes and publishes a scandalous Pamphlet, equally foolish and villainous, in which he pretends that I was in the Hands of a Quack who cures mad Men. So weak is the Capacity of this little Gentleman, that he did not know that he had done an odious Thing; an Action detested even by those whom he fondly design'd to oblige by it. For Mr. Addison was so far from approving of it, that he engag'd Sir Richard Steele to write to me, and to assure me that he knew nothing of that Pamphlet till he saw it in Print, that he was very sorry to see it, and that whenever he should think fit to answer my Remarks on his Tragedy, he would do it in a manner to which I should have no just Exception. Thus Mr. Addison acted like a Man of Honour, and like one who foresaw what he himself had to expect from a Wretch who was capable of so much Baseness. What he foresaw and expected happen'd: A. P-E libell'd him in Manuscript while he liv'd, and in Print after he died.

'Tis a sure Sign that we live in a poor, undiscerning, degenerate World, when one who has writ and acted as this little Gentleman has done, has been able to delude it so long. But as he got such Favours by ungenerous Arts, he has work'd himself out of it, by his Weakness and his Baseness, by which he has made, by a modest Computation, a Hundred Thousand Enemies, and rais'd Indignation and Disdain in the Breast of every generous and sensible Reader. He has not only attack'd such Numbers of People at one Time as no one before him ever did in any Nation or any Age, but has grosly abus'd several very ingenious Men; and some of them for no other Reason but because they had shewn an Understanding, and Discernment, and a Sagacity greatly superior to his own: Among whom I am oblig'd, in Justice, to name Mr. Theobald, who by delivering Shakespear from the Injuries of Time, and of lazy, or ignorant and stupid Editors, has oblig'd all who are concern'd for the Reputation of so great a Genius, or for the Honour of Great Britain.

It was for no other Reason that he has libell'd Mr. Theobald, Mr. Phillips, and several others, than that they have surpass'd him. He has been so far from making that Distinction which he ought to have done, that his Malice has been levell'd most at those who have most Merit; which is a certain Proof, that this little envious Creature knows nothing of the Nature of Satire, which can never exist where the Censures are not just. In that case the Versifyer, instead of a Satirist, is a Lampooner, an infamous Libeller. None of the antient Satirists, neither Horace, nor Persius, nor Juvenal, ever attack'd Merit: And Boileau declares, ‘That Merit is always precious to him; and that he has a greater Esteem for Patru in the midst of Indigence, than for one who has amass'd the greatest Treasure by base and unjustifiable Means.’ He did not only say this, but shew'd, by a very generous Action, that it was his real Sentiment. Patru had a very noble Library, consisting of a great Number of Volumes, and all of them very well chosen. He was reduc'd by his Circumstances to part with this Library, in order to satisfy his Creditors. Boileau hearing of this, came and paid down the full Price for it, and never remov'd a Volume, but gave Patru the Enjoyment of the whole during the Remainder of his Life.

But the little Gentleman, who wrote the Dunciad and the Profund, does not only, with infinite Baseness, reproach Authors with Poverty, who have deserv'd a thousand times better both of their Country and the Commonwealth of Learning, to both which he is an open and a mortal Enemy; but he has the Impudence to infer their Want of Merit from their Want of Fortune. At this rate, Spencer, the renowned Lord Bacon, Butler, and Otway were Dunces; and A. P-E, and Ned Howard, and two or three rich and noble Lords, are Poets and great Wits. At this rate Horace too was a Dunce, because he was not only poor, before Augustus and his first Minister cast a favourable Eye upon him, but his Poverty made him a Poet. Such is the Account that he gives of himself in the second Epistle of Book II.

Quem dimisêre Philippi

Decisis humilem pennis, inopémque paterni

Et laris & fundi; paupertas impulit audax,

Ut versus facerem.

If Horace was poor, Virgil was not rich, before the same magnanimous Prince, and his wise and discerning Minister, took him into their Protection. Yet he was so far from contemning Poverty, that he rather had a Contempt for Riches: Witness what he makes Evander say to Aeneas, in the 8th Aeneid, when he introduces him into the homely Palace where Hercules had lain before.

Ut ventum ad sedes; haec, inquit, limina victor

Alcides subiit; haec illum regia cepit.

Aude, hospes, contemnere opes, & te quoque dignum

Finge Deo, rebusque veni non asper egenis.

And in his Praise of a Country-Life, at the latter End of the second Georgic, he seems to make Poverty the Foundation of the Roman Greatness.

Agricola incurvo terram dimovit aratro;

Hinc anni labor; hinc patriam, parvosque nepotes

Sustinet; hinc armenta boum, meritosque juvencos.

Now what follows a little after this?

Hanc olim veteres vitam coluere Sabini,

Hanc Remus & frater; sic fortis Etruria crevit,

Scilicet & rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma.

Which his Friend Horace seems to have done before him, in the Ode to Augustus, Lib. I.

Regulum & Scauros, animaeque magnae

Prodigum paulum, superante poena,

Dicam & insigni referem Camoena,

Fabriciumque.

Hunc & incomptis curium capillis

Utilem bello tulit, & Camillum

Saeva paupertas, & avitus apto

Cum cure fundus.

This I will venture to say, that there never was a great Poet in the World but he had a Contempt for Riches. Of which Opinion likewise is Horace:

—Vatis avarus

Non temere est animus, versus amat, hoc studet unum.

And there never was a little Poetaster, but he lov'd them, valu'd himself upon the Possession of them, and did base Things to acquire and to augment them.

Nothing can shew any one more weak or more base, than to prefer Fortune to Merit, or vainly and vilely to endeavour to extol Fortune and to decry Merit. God has given extraordinary Merit to few, but he has subjected all to the Vicissitudes of human Affairs, as well as to Diseases and Death. The greatest and most powerful of Monarchs are not exempted from the Power of Fortune, that is, from the unchangeable and irresistible Decrees of Providence: Nay, the greater and more powerful any one is, the more deplorable Misfortunes is he subjected to. And therefore the Calamities of the Great generally supply the fittest Subjects for so noble a Poem as Tragedy.

Considering the Vicissitude of human Affairs, Men of the greatest Fortune and Power ought not to value themselves upon either: But for this little Gentleman to strut and be conceited upon his having a Hundred a Year, to pretend to look down upon those whom he never had Capacity to look up to; to call their good Sense and their Reasoning Railing, because neither of them are his Talent; to say he will answer what they urge against him when he is as much in Debt as they are, at the same time that he owes his little Substance to a vile Translation of a poor but excellent Poet, who if he was not in Debt, it was because no Body would trust him: To do all this, entertains the Publick with the most ridiculous Farce in the World. Notwithstanding this, as long as he writes so scandalously as he has lately done, in so degenerate an Age he will not be without Readers: For all Fools are fond of Scandal, because all Fools are Levellers. But for the same Reasons that he has their Approbation, he is contemn'd by Men of sound Understanding.

And now I appeal to every impartial sensible Reader, who shall have read this, and the following Remarks, and who has formerly read those upon Homer, Windsor-Forest, and the Temple of Fame, if I have not prov'd, both by convincing Reason and by undeniable Fact, That A. P-E has himself a just and indefeasible Right to all those noble Appellations and Titles, which he so foolishly, and so wrongfully to himself and Company, squanders away upon others.

LETTER I.

SIR,
May 1. 1714.

I SHALL now, according to my Promise, send you some Observations upon the Rape of the Lock, which is one of the last Imitations of the little mimicking Bard, and one of the most impertinent; to so high a Degree impertinent, that I am afraid of being accus'd of writing a Satire upon Nothing, as my Lord Rochester wrote a Panegyrick.

The Faults of this ridiculous Poem begin at the Title-Page. I will not insist upon the fantastical Composition of the Word HeroiComical; but I desire Leave to dwell a little upon the Thing. What can this Author mean by creating in his Readers an Expectation of Pleasantry, when there is not so much as one Jest in his Book? Of all Blockheads he is the most emphatically Dull, who, to an insipid tedious Tale, prefixes this impertinent Prelude; Now, Gentlemen, expect a very good Jest! Now, my Masters, prepare to laugh! Instead of Heroi-Comical, it should have been Heroi Tragical, since it seems there was a Necessity for a fantastical Word: For there is a great deal of Tragedy in this Poem, but not one Jot of Comedy. But at the same Time there is nothing so Tragical in it, as what the Author designs for Comedy: For whenever he aims at a Jest, 'tis such sad deplorable Stuff, that he never fails to move Compassion by it.

But now, Sir, to pass from the Title-Page to the Dedication; he need not have been at the Trouble of acquainting his fair Patroness, that he publish'd what he calls his Poem, before he had thought of what he calls his Machinery: For the Book would have told her that, without the Epistle. For what he calls his Machinery has no Manner of Influence upon what he calls his Poem, not in the least promoting, or preventing, or retarding the Action of it; as we shall shew more plainly when we come to treat of the Machines. He has taken his Machines, he tells us, from the Rosycrucians; and 'tis with them, he tells his fair Patroness, that he must bring her acquainted. And how bring her acquainted? Why, he must tell her what the Count de Gabalis says of them, who has given, it seems, the best Account that he knows of them. If he had not too much Pride, the natural necessary Consequence of his Capacity, to be instructed; (for my Lord Roscomon is certainly in the Right, when he tells us, that

Pride, of all others, the most dang'rous Fault,

Proceeds from Want of Sense, or Want of Thought:)

I would direct him to a better Account of them, which is to be found in a Writer of our own, who is infinitely a better Judge both of Persons and Things, than the fantastick Count de Gabalis: and That is the most ingenious and most judicious Author of Hudibras, who has given this short Account of the Rosycrucians, in his Comment upon two Lines which are to be found in the Character of Ralpho, the facetious Squire of Hudibras, Canto I. Part 1. and which two I have chosen for the Motto to these Letters.

In Rosycrucian Lore as learned

As he that verè Adeptus earned.

The short Comment upon which is this:

The Fraternity of the Rosycrucians is very like the Sect of the antient Gnostici; who called themselves so from the excellent Learning they pretended to, although they were really the most ridiculous Sots of all Mankind.

And then upon the Words Verè Adeptus, says he,

Verè Adeptus is one who has commenc'd in their Phanatick Extravagance.

Thus, if we will believe Butler, who, as we said before, is an admirable Judge both of Books and of Mankind, this judicious Author of the Rape has taken what he calls his Machinery, from the Phanatick Extravagance of the most ridiculous of all modern Sots; as their Predecessors the Gnostici were the most contemptible ones of all the Antient; a Sect that is as becoming of this merry little Gentleman, as it was of the facetious Squire of Hudibras. And now tell me in good Earnest, Sir, is not the Fair Lady infinitely oblig'd to him for her new Acquaintance? an Acquaintance very unbecoming Her, tho' very becoming of Him.

Thus, Sir, have I done with the Title-Page and the Epistle. I shall proceed to Morrow upon the Body of the Book. In the mean time I will assure you for your Comfort, that you shall never have a Letter of above a Sheet of Paper at a Time upon this impertinent Subject. I am, Sir,

Your most Humble and Faithful Servant, JOHN DENNIS.

LETTER II.

SIR,
May 3. 1714.

I HOPE mine of the first of this Month came to your Hands, which contain'd some Reflections upon the Dedication and TitlePage of the Rape of the Lock; which latter creates an Expectation of Pleasantry in us, when there is not so much as one Jest in the Book.

Quanto rectius hic qui nil molitur ineptè?

How much more judiciously does Boileau appear in the Title-Page of his Lutrin? In a sottish Emulation of which, this and several late fantastick Poems appear both to you and me to have been writ. Boileau calls his Lutrin an Heroick Poem, and he is so far from raising an Expectation of Laughter, either in the Title, or in the Beginning of the Poem, that he tells Monsieur de Lamoignon, to whom he addresses it, that 'tis a grave Subject, and must be read with a grave Countenance.

Garde toy de rire en ce grave sujet.

Lutrin, Chant. I.

Butler modestly calls his Poem, by the Name of his Hero, Hudibras; and without endeavouring to prepossess his Reader, leaves the Poem itself to work its natural Effect upon him.

But now, Sir, since I have said that the Rape of the Lock seems to be writ in Imitation of the Lutrin, (I mean so far in Imitation, that the Author had a Mind to get Reputation by writing a great many Verses upon an inconsiderable Subject, as Boileau appears to have done before him;) I believe it will not be disagreeable to you, if I shew the Difference between the Lutrin and this fantastick Poem.

The Rape of the Lock is a very empty Trifle, without any Solidity or sensible Meaning; whereas the Lutrin is only a Trifle in Appearance, but under that Appearance carries a very grave and very important Instruction: For if that Poem were only what it appears to be, Boileau would run counter to the fam'd Rule which he has prescrib'd to others.

Auteurs, prêtez l' oreille à mes instructions,

Voulez vous faire aimer vos riches fictions?

Qu' en sçavantes leçons votre muse fertile,

Par tout joigne au plaisant le solide & l' utile?

Un lecteur sage fuit un vain amusement,

Et veut mettre à profit son divertissement.

And which Horace has given before him.

Centuriae seniorum agitant expertia frugis:

Celsi praetereunt austera poemata Ramnes.

Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci,

Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo.

And the Rule which my Lord Roscomon has given for Translations, is certainly more strong for Originals.

Take then a Subject proper to expound,

But moral, great, and worth a Poet's Voice,

For Men of Sense despise a trivial Choice,

And such Applause it must expect to meet,

As would some Painter busy'd in a Street

To copy Bulls, and Bears, and every Sign,

That calls the staring Sots to nasty Wine.

Now since 'tis impossible that so judicious an Author as Boileau should run counter to his own, and to the Instructions of his Master Horace, the Lutrin at the Bottom cannot be an empty Trifle. 'Tis indeed a noble and important satirical Poem, upon the Luxury, the Pride, the Divisions, and Animosities of the Popish Clergy. 'Tis true indeed the admirable Address of the Poet has made it in Appearance a Trifle; for otherwise it would not have been suffer'd in a bigotted Popish Country. But yet Boileau in some Places seems to have given broad Hints at what was his real Meaning; as in the following Passage.

La Deesse en entrant, qui voit la nappe mise,

Admire un si bel ordre, & reconnoit l'eglise.

Lutrin, Chant. I.

And this other Passage is still more bold.

Pour soutenir tes droits, que le ciel autorise,

Abime tout plutôt, c' est l' esprit de l'eglise.

Lutrin, Chant. I.

As the Rape of the Lock is an empty Trifle, it can have no Fable nor any Moral; whereas the Lutrin has both Fable and Moral. 'Tis true, indeed, the Allegory under which that Moral is conceal'd, is not so perspicuous as Boileau would have made it, if it had not been for the Apprehension of provoking the Clergy. But, on the other Side, 'tis not so obscure, but that a penetrating Reader may see through it. The Moral is, That when Christians, and especially the Clergy, run into great Heats about religious Trifles, their Animosity proceeds from the Want of that Religion which is the Pretence of their Quarrel. The Fable is this; ‘Two Persons being deserted by true Piety, are embroil'd about a religious Trifle, to the Perplexity and Confusion of them and theirs: Upon the Return of Piety, they agree to set aside the Trifle about which they differ'd, and are reconcil'd, to the Quiet and Satisfaction both of themselves and their Partizans.’

If you will be pleased to compare the Beginning of the Sixth Canto with the rest of the Poem, you will easily see that this Account which I have given of the Lutrin is not without Foundation. But you know very well, Sir, that there is not the least Shadow of a Moral or Fable in the Rape.

As nothing could be more ridiculous than the writing a full, an exact, and a regular Criticism upon so empty a Business as this trifling Poem; I will say but a Word or two concerning the Incidents, and so have done with what relates immediately to the Design. The Intention of the Author in writing this Poem, as we find in the Title-Page, is to raise the Mirth of the Reader; and we find by the Effects which Hudibras and the Lutrin produce in us, that Butler and Boileau wrote with the same Intention. Now you know very well, Sir, that in a Poem which is built upon an Action, Mirth is chiefly to be rais'd by the Incidents. For Laughter in Comedy is chiefly to be excited, like Terror and Compassion in Tragedy, by Surprize, when Things spring from one another against our Expectation. Now whereas there are several ridiculous Incidents in the Lutrin, as, The Owl in the Pulpit frighting the nocturnal Champions; The Prelate's giving his Benediction to his Adversary, by way of Revenge and Insult; The Battle in the Bookseller's Shop, &c. And whereas there are a thousand such in Hudibras; There is not so much as one, nor the Shadow of one, in the Rape of the Lock: Unless the Author's Friends will object here, That his perpetual Gravity, after the Promise of his Title, makes the whole Poem one continued Jest.

I am Your's, &c.

LETTER III.

SIR,
May 8. 1714.

I COME now to the Characters and the Machines. The Characters in the Lutrin are well mark'd. They are the true Resemblances of Men, of active Men, who pursue earnestly what they are about. But there is no such Thing as a Character in the Rape of the Lock. Belinda, who appears most in it, is a Chimera, and not a Character. She is represented by the Author perfectly beautiful and well-bred, modest and virtuous. Let us now see how he sustains these Qualities in her, and then we shall discover what Taste he has of Nature and of Decorum.

First then he represents her perfectly beautiful:

Sol thro' white Curtains did his Beams display,

And op'd those Eyes which brighter shone than they.

And thus in the next Page the Sylphs accost her:

Fairest of Mortals, thou distinguish'd Care

Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air.

And yet in the latter End of this very Canto he makes her owe the greater Part of her Beauty to her Toilette:

Unnumber'd Treasures ope at once, and here

The various Offerings of the World appear;

From each she nicely culls with curious Toil,

And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring Spoil,

This Casket India's glowing Gems unlocks,

And all Arabia breathes from yonder Box.

Now awful Beauty puts on all its Arms,

The Fair each Moment rises in her Charms,

Repairs her Smiles, awakens every Grace,

And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face,

Sees by Degrees a purer Blush arise,

And keener Lightnings quicken in her Eyes.

Nay, the very favourite Lock, which is made the Subject for so many Verses, is not shewn so desirable for its native Beauty, as for the constant Artifice employ'd about it. Witness what Thalestris says to Belinda just after she had lost it:

Was it for this you took such constant Care

The Bodkin, Comb, and Essence to prepare?

For this your Locks in Paper Durance bound,

For this with torturing Irons wreath'd around?

For this with Fillets strain'd your tender Head,

And bravely bore the double Loads of Lead?

Such Artifice must deface the Lustre of Locks which were naturally lovely; and the Toilette must of Necessity detract from perfect Beauty. The Toilette indeed may add to some who are call'd Beauties, or to some who would be thought such. A decay'd superannuated Beauty may receive Advantage from her Toilette, may rise in her Charms, and by the Help of Spanish Red, a purer Blush may arise. But her counterfeit Charms can please none who have a Taste of Nature; according to that of Tibullus:

Heu serò revocatur amor, seròque juventa,

Cum vetus infecit cana senecta caput.

Tum studium formae est, coma tùm mutatur ut annos

Dissimulet, viridis cortice tincta nucis.

But for her who has Youth and Beauty;

Illa placet quamvis, inculto venerit ore,

Nec nitidum tardâ compserit arte caput.

Such a one wants neither Flounce nor Furbelow, nor torturing Irons, nor Paper Durance. When God and Nature design a Face to please, the Fair-one, on whom they bestow it, can never add to Workmanship Divine. She may spoil it indeed by Industry, but can never improve it. They, who made it, alone know the certain Ways of going to the Heart of Man, and alone can give it those resistless inimitable Graces which Industry does but spoil, and which Artifice does but hide.

Horace was as fond of his Mistress's Hair as any modern Lover can be: Witness what he says to Maecenas in the twelfth Ode of the second Book;

Num tu, quae tenuit dives Achaemenes,

Aut pinguis Phrygiae Mygdonias opes

Permutare velis crine Licymniae,

Plenas aut Arabum Domos?

And yet as he and the rest of the antient Poets had an admirable Taste of Nature, they had quite another Taste of Beauty than what this Author discovers; and believ'd that the brightest Ornament, either of the Hair or Face, was Simplicity and a becoming Negligence.

Cui flavam religas comam

Simplex munditiis?

Says Horace to Pyrrha, Ode V. Lib. 1.

And in the eleventh Ode of Lib. 2.

Quis Devium scortum eliciet domo

Lyden? Eburna dic age cum lyrâ

Maturet, incomptam Lacenae

More comam religata nodum.

Terence, who every where so exactly imitates Nature, takes a quite different Course from this Author to shew a touching Beauty. The Passage is in the first Act of his Phormio:

Virgo pulchra! & quo magis diceres,

Nil ad erat adjumenti ad pulchritudinem:

Capillus passus, nudus pes, ipsa horrida:

Lacrymae, vestitus turpis, ut ni vis boni

In ipsa inesset formâ, haec formam extinguerent.

Here was no Care, neither of Hair, nor Face, nor Shape, and yet how much more charming does this Terentian Virgin appear, ev'n in Rags and Misery, than Belinda does at her Toilette? I mean to those who have a Taste of Nature. For she, who ev'n in this miserable Plight mov'd all Beholders with Pleasure, and Antipho with Love, what might she not justly be suppos'd to do, adorn'd with a cleanly Negligence and Simplicity? I say, adorn'd with them; for it may truly be said of every accomplish'd Beauty, what Tasso says of one of his:

Di natura, d' amor, del cielo amici,

Le negligenze sue sono artifici.

And our Ladies who spend so much Time at their Toilettes would do well to consider, that, after all the Pains which they take in adorning themselves, they who are most charm'd with their Persons, endeavour to retrieve their natural Beauty in Imagination at least, by divesting them of their borrow'd Ornaments, and cloathing them in the Simplicity of the rural Habit, when in their Sonnets they transform them to Shepherdesses.

But the Author has not only shewn Belinda an accomplish'd Beauty; he represents her likewise a fine, modest, well-bred Lady:

Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends.

Canto II.

And a little below,

With graceful Ease and Sweetness, void of Pride.

And yet in the very next Canto she appears an arrant Ramp and a Tomrigg;

The Nymph exulting fills with Shouts the Sky;

The Walls, the Woods, and long Canals reply.

Must not this be the legitimate Offspring of Stentor, to make such a Noise as that? The Nymph was within Doors, and she must set up her Throat at a hellish Rate, to make the Woods (where, by the by, there are none) and the Canals reply to it. Let us turn to the fifth Canto, and we shall see her there as loud with Anger, as she is now with Joy:

Restore the Lock, she cries, and all around

Restore the Lock the vaulted Roofs rebound;

Not fierce Othello in so loud a Strain

Roar'd for the Handkerchief that caus'd his Pain.

Well, but his Friends will object here, that this is an Hyperbole; and an Hyperbole is design'd to carry us beyond the Truth, only that it may make us enter more justly into it: and that when Virgil says of Camilla,

Illa vel intactae segetis per summa volaret

Gramina, nec teneres cursu laesisset aristas;

Vel mare per medium fluctu suspensa tu menti,

Ferret iter, celeres nec tingeret aequore plantas;—

He means only that Camilla was exceeding swift of Foot: Why, be it so. But then by the same Rule, must not the Author of the Rape mean, that Belinda shouted and roar'd very loud; and that, in short, she made a diabolick Din? Now is Shouting and Roaring proper for a well-bred Lady? Are they not below the Modesty and the Decency even of those sonorous Nymphs of the Flood, who haunt the Banks of the vocal Thames between the Bridge and the Tower?

Let us look once more upon the last Canto, p. 44. Is she not a terrible Termagant there, and the exact Resemblance of Magnano's Lady in Hudibras?

See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,

With more than usual Lightning in her Eyes—

Now meet thy Fate, th' incens'd Virago cry'd,

And drew a deadly Bodkin from her Side.

But Belinda is not only shewn beautiful and well-bred, she is represented virtuous too:

Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends.

And yet in the latter End of the fourth Canto she talks like an errant Suburbian:

Oh, hadst thou, Cruel, been content to seize

Hairs less in Sight, or any Hairs but these.

Thus, Sir, has this Author given his fine Lady Beauty and good Breeding, Modesty and Virtue in Words, but has in Reality and in Fact made her an artificial dawbing Jilt; a Tomrig, a Virago, and a Lady of the Lake.

There is no other Character in this Poem worth taking Notice of. I should now come to the Machines, in which you might expect to be entertain'd with something more curious and more ridiculous. But I have already detain'd you too long, and must defer it till the next Opportunity.

I am, Sir, Yours, &c.

LETTER IV.

SIR,
May 9. 1714.

ACcording to the Promise made in my last, I am now to treat of the Machines; in the doing which I shall lie under a great Disadvantage: For before I come to those of the Rape, it is necessary to say something of Machines in general, of the Reason of introducing them, of the Method us'd by the antient Poets in employing them, and of the Practice of the greatest and best of the Moderns. 'Tis necessary to say something to all these, in order to shew the Absurdity of our Author's Machines, and his utter Ignorance of the Art he pretends to. But to treat of all these in as ample a Manner as the Subject deserves, would require a Volume: And on the other Side, it would be extravagant to spend a great deal of Time to so insignificant an End. But when I consider that I write to a Gentleman who is perfectly well vers'd in these Matters, and who consequently will comprehend a great deal by a little, I find to my Comfort that it will be easy to avoid both those Inconveniences, of saying a great deal, and of saying nothing.

The Reasons, that first oblig'd those Poets which are call'd Heroic to introduce Machines into their Poems, were,

First, To make their Fable and their Action more instructive: For, says Bossu, ‘Lorsque les poetes sont devenus philosophes moraux, ils n' ont pas cessé d'etre theologiens. Au contraire, la morale quils traitent, les oblige indispensablement, de méler la divinité dans leurs Ouvrages; parceque la conoissance, la crainte, & l' amour de Dieu, en un mot, la piete, & la religion sont les premiers, & les plus solides fondements, des autres vertus, & de tout la morale.’

By introducing Machines into their Fables, the Epic Poets shew'd two Things, 1. That the great Revolutions in human Affairs are influenc'd by a particular Providence. 2. That the Deity himself promotes the Success of an Action form'd by Virtue, and conducted by Prudence. But,

Secondly, The Heroic Poets introduc'd Machines into their Fables in order to make those Fables more delightful: For the employing Machines made the Actions of those Poems wonderful; now every Thing that is wonderful is of course delightful. Let us see what one of the greatest Masters among the Moderns says to this:

Qu' Aenee & ses vaisseaux par les ventes ecartez,

Soient aux bords Affricains d'un orage emportez,

Ce n' est qu' une avanture ordinaire & commune,

Qu' un coup peu surprenant, des traits de la fortune.

Mais que Junon constante en son aversion,

Poursvive sur les flots les restes d' Ilion,

Qu' Eole on sa faveur les chassant d' Italie,

Ouvre aux vents mutinez les prisons d Eolie,

Que Neptune en couroux, s'elevant sur la mer,

D'un mot calme les flots, mette la paix dans l' air,

Deliure les vaisseaux, des Syrtes les arrache,

C' est la ce qui surprend, frappe, saisit, attache,

Sans tous ces ornamens le vers tombe en langueur

La poësie est morte, ou rampe sans vigueur;

Le poete n'est plus, qu'un orateur timide

Qu' un froid historien d'un fable insipide.

This says the most judicious M. Despreaux in his Art of Poetry; and the four last Lines remind me here of what I have at large discours'd upon other Occasions, viz. That as the Epic Poets by their Machines made the Actions of their Fables more wonderful and more delightful, as well as more instructive; they likewise made the poetical Expression more wonderful and more delightful, since 'tis from them that they chiefly derive that Greatness of Expression which renders their Works so Divine.

I shall now come to the Practice of the antient Poets, and the Method which they made use of in introducing their Machines, in order to render their Poems more instructive and more delightful.

- 1. They took their Machines from the Religion of their Country, upon which Account these Machines made the stronger Impression, and made their Fables, and the Actions of them, probable as well as wonderful; for nothing was more natural than for those antient Heathens to believe that the Powers which they ador'd were wont to intermeddle in human Affairs, and to promote the Success of those Designs which they favour'd; and nothing could be more natural for them, than to believe that that Design must prosper which was espous'd by Jupiter. But this was not all; for the Machines, by making the Actions of their Poems probable, made them wonderful to Men of Sense, who never can admire any Thing in Humanity which Reason will not let them believe. But,

- 2. The antient Poets made their Machines allegorical, as well as their human Persons.

- 3. They oppos'd them to one another.

- 4. They shew'd a just Subordination among them, and a just Proportion between their Functions. While one was employ'd about the greatest and the sublimest Things, another was not busied about the most trifling and most contemptible.

- 5. They always made their Machines influence the Actions of their Poems; and some of those Machines endeavour'd to advance the Action of their respective Poem, and others of them endeavour'd to retard it.

- 6. They made them infinitely more powerful than the human Persons.

But, Secondly, The Practice of the greatest modern Heroic Poets is conformable to that of the antient.

- 1. They take their Machines from the Religion of their Country; witness Milton, Cowley, Tasso.

- 2. They make them Allegorical.

- 3. They oppose them to one another.

- 4. They shew a just Subordination among them, and a just Proportion between their Functions.

The Author of the Rape has run counter to this Practice both of the Antients and Moderns. He has not taken his Machines from the Religion of his Country, not from any Religion, nor from Morality. His Machines contradict the Doctrines of the Christian Religion, contradict all sound Morality; there is no allegorical nor sensible Meaning in them; and for these Reasons they give no Instruction, make no Impression at all upon the Mind of a sensible Reader. Instead of making the Action wonderful and delightful, they render it extravagant, absurd, and incredible. They do not in the least influence that Action; they neither prevent the Danger of Belinda, nor promote it, nor retard it, unless, perhaps, it may be said, for one Moment, which is ridiculous. And if here it be objected, that the Author design'd only to entertain and amuse; To that I answer, That for that very Reason he ought to have taken the utmost Care to make his Poem probable, according to the important Precept of Horace.

Ficta voluptatis causâ sint proxima veris.

And that we may be satisfy'd that this Rule is founded in Reason and Nature, we find by constant Experience, that any thing that shocks Probability is most insufferable in Comedy.

There is no Opposition of the Machines to one another in this Rape of the Lock. Umbriel the Gnome is not introduc'd till the Action is over, and till Ariel and the Spirits under him, have quitted Belinda.

There is no just Subordination among these Machines, nor any just Proportion between their Functions. Ariel summons them together, and talks to them as if he were their Emperor.

Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your Chief give ear,

Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons, hear;

Ye know the Spheres and various Tasks assign'd,

By Laws eternal, to th' aerial Kind.

Some in the Fields of purest Aether play,

And bask and whiten in the Blaze of Day.

Some guide the Course of wandring Orbs on high,

Or roll the Planets thro' the boundless Sky—

Or brew fierce Tempests on the watry Main,

Or o'er the Glebe distil the kindly Rain.

Others on Earth o'er human Race preside,

Watch all their Ways, and all their Actions guide:

Of these the Chief the Care of Nations own,

And guard with Arms Divine the British Throne.

Now, Sir, give me leave to ask you one Question: Did you ever hear before that the Planets were roll'd by the aerial Kind? We have heard indeed of Angels and Intelligences who have perform'd these Functions: But they are vast glorious Beings, of Celestial Kind, and Machines of another System. Pray which of the aerial Kind have these sublime Employments? For nothing can be more ridiculous, or more contemptible, than the Employments of those whom he harangues

To save the Powder from too rude a Gale,

Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale.

There is a Difference almost infinite between these vile Functions and the former sublime ones, and therefore they can never belong to Beings of the same Species. Which of the aerial Kinds are the Movers of Orbs on high, or the Guardians of Empires below; when he who calls himself their Chief, is only the Keeper of a vile Iseland Cur, and has not so much as the Intendance of the Lady's Favourite Lock, which is the Subject of the Poem? But that is entrusted to an inferior Spirit, contrary to all manner of Judgment and Decorum.

The Machines that appear in this Poem are infinitely less considerable than the human Persons, which is without Precedent. Nothing can be so contemptible as the Persons, or so foolish as the Understandings of these Hobgoblins. Ariel's Speech, for the first thirty Lines, is one continu'd Impertinence: For, if what he says is true, he tells them nothing but what they knew as well as himself before. And when he comes at length to the Point, he is full as impertinent as he was in his Ramble before; for after he has talk'd to them of black Omens and dire Disasters that threaten his Heroine, these Bugbears dwindle to the breaking a Piece of China, the staining a Petticoat, the losing a Necklace, a Fan, or a Bottle of Sal Volatile. But we shall consider this Passage further when we come to examine the Sentiments; and then we shall see, that Sawny takes the Change here, and 'tis He, a little Lump of Flesh, that talks; instead of a little Spirit.

That which makes this Speech more ridiculous, is the Place where it is spoken, and that is upon the Sails and Cordage of Belinda's Barge; which is certainly taken from the two Kings of Brentford descending in Clouds, and singing in the Style of our modern Spirits.

1 King. O stay, for you need not as yet go astray,

The Tide, like a Friend, has brought Ships in our Way,

And on their high Ropes we will play.

But now, Sir, for the Persons of these Sylphs and Sylphids, you see what Ideas the Threats of Ariel give us of them, when he threatens them, that for their Neglect they shall

Be stopt in Viols, or transfix'd with Pins,

Or plung'd in Lakes of bitter Washes lie,

Or wedg'd whole Ages in a Bodkin's Eye.

Discord is describ'd by Homer with her Feet upon the Earth, and Head in the Skies: Upon which Longinus cries out, That this is not so much the Measure of Discord, as of Homer's Capacity, and Elevation of Genius. Ev'n so these diminutive Beings of the intellectual World, may be said to be the Measure of Mr. Pope's Capacity and Elevation of Genius. They are, indeed, Beings so diminutive, that they bear the same Proportion to the rest of the intellectual, that Eels in Vinegar do to the rest of the material World. The latter are only to be seen thro' Microscopes, and the former only thro' the false Optics of a Rosycrucian Understanding.

I shall mention but one or two more of the numerous Defects which are to be found in the Machines of this Poem; the one is, The Spirits, which he intends for benign ones, are malignant, and those, which he designs for malignant, are beneficent to Mankind. The Gnomes he intends for malignant, and the Sylphs for beneficent Spirits. Now the Sylphs in this Poem promote that Female Vanity which the Gnomes mortify. And Vanity is not only a great Defect in Human Nature, but the Mother of a thousand Errors, and a thousand Crimes, and the Cause of most of the Misfortunes which are incident to Humanity.

The last Defect that I shall take notice of, is, That the Machines in this Poem are not taken from one System, but are double, nay treble or quadruple. In the first Canto we hear of nothing but Sylphs, and Gnomes, and Salamanders, which are Rosycrucian Visions. In the second we meet with Fairies, Genii, and Daemons, Beings which are unknown to those Fanatick Sophisters. In the fourth, Spleen and the Phantoms about, are deriv'd from the Powers of Nature, and are of a separate System. And Fate and Jove, which we find in the fifth Canto, belong to the Heathen Religion.

But now, Sir, in treating of these Matters, I have, before I perceiv'd it, transgress'd the Bounds which I prescrib'd to my self, which I desire that you would excuse.

I am, SIR, Yours, &c.

LETTER V.

SIR,

I HAVE now shewn that there is no such Thing as a Fable or Characters in the Poem of the Rape, and that what he calls his Machinery is most extravagantly chosen. I now come to the Sentiments, which are more absurd than the rest, and of such an odd Composition, that they are at one and the same Time both trivial and extravagant.

The Absurdity of the Sentiments begins with the Book, and the Author stumbles at the Threshold.

What dire Offence from amorous Causes springs,

What mighty Quarrels rise from trivial Things,

I sing—This Verse to C_+ Muse is due.

Where in three Lines there are no less than two Errors in the Sentiments. For, in the first Place, tho' the Author has neither Fable nor general Action, yet he proposes to sing something general, rather than that particular Action which is the Subject of his Poem, and he begins as if he design'd to make the Reader expect a Treatise of Love-Quarrels; which Proceeding is just contrary to the Practice of Homer, and Virgil, and to the Dictates of right Reason. Homer and Virgil had accomplish'd Fables, and their Actions at the Bottom were universal and allegorical: Yet they each of them propos'd to sing these Actions, as they had particulariz'd them by the Imposition of Names. Homer begins thus:

Muse, sing the baleful Fury of Achilles.

And Virgil thus:

Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris

Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit

Littora.—

In the third Line he does not invoke the Muse to sing, but proposes to do it himself: And tho' he names the Muse immediately afterwards, he does it, forsooth, to acquaint her, that 'tis not she, but Belinda, that is to inspire him:

—This Verse to C_+ Muse is due,

This ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view:

Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise,

If she inspire, and He approve my Lays.

So that he has desir'd no Assistance from the Muse, and none she has afforded him.

The Muse indeed could not possibly assist him in this Case. The Muse is a Machine like Fate and Jove, belonging originally to the Ethnic System, and transferr'd sometimes to the Christian Religion only allegorically; and the Muse cannot be suppos'd to bring him acquainted with Rosycrucian Spirits, which would destroy her own Divinity, either as Heathen or Christian, since they are Beings utterly unknown, either to the Ethnic System, or to the Christian Religion: So that 'tis Belinda, and not the Muse, that is to inspire him. He introduces her into the Acquaintance of the Sylphs and Sylphids in his Epistle, and she is to bring him acquainted with them in the Body of the Book. And now, Sir, is not this very ingeniously, and very judiciously contriv'd? He has desir'd no Assistance from the Muse, and, as I said before, none he has had from her. The whole Poem seems to have been infus'd by a Coquette, and not inspir'd by a Muse.

I have already acquainted you, Sir, that I would not in the Examen of this Poem confine my self to an exact and regular Method: For neither is the Subject worth the while, nor ought a Letter to a Friend to be writ with any Restraint. I shall therefore take the Sentiments of this Poem as they come in my way, without pretending to rank them under their respective Classes, excepting perhaps the Puns, which are numerous, and by which the Author frequently shocks not only the Dictates of Good Sense, and the Rules of true Pleasantry, but those of Grammar and common English. But those we shall omit till we have done with the rest.

There is in this first Canto, pag. 4. a very unlucky Imitation of a Passage in the sixth Book of Virgil.

Quae gratia currûm

Armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentes

Pascere equos; eadem sequitur tellure repostos.

Which the Author of the Rape has thus imitated:

Think not, when Woman's transient Breath is fled,

That all her Vanities at once are dead,

Succeeding Vanities she still regards,

And tho' she plays no more o'erlooks the Cards:

Her Joy in gilded Chariots when alive,

And Love of Ombre, after Death survive.

Now there is this remarkable Difference between these two Passages, that what Virgil says of the Souls in the Elysian Fields, that they were pleas'd with the same Diversions after Death, of which they were fond in their Life-times, does by no means contradict any Doctrine of that Religion which the Romans deriv'd from the Grecians; but the Passage in the Rape shocks the fundamental Doctrines of the Christian Religion, and is therefore a most absurd Imitation.

I have already shewn, in speaking of the Characters, how injudicious all that Passage is, in the 8th and 9th Pages, which relates to the Toilette: And as I do not pretend to shew all his Errors, but only some few which are very gross ones, I shall now pass to the second Canto; in which Canto, pag. 11. there is a Remark that cannot but be the Effect of very wise and very deep Observation:

With hairy Springes we the Birds betray,

Slight Lines of Hair surprize the finny Prey,

Fair Tresses Man's impertal Race insnare,

And Beauty draws us with a single Hair.

That is to say, Birds are caught by the Heels, and Fish by the Jaws, with Horse-Hair; and Men are hamper'd by the Souls with Woman's Hair. Tell me truly, Sir, is not this the Effect of very wise and very deep Observation? I have been so taken with these four Verses, that I could not forbear making the four following in Imitation of them.

With jingling Bells Night-Fowlers Birds betray,

With these Night-Anglers catch the finny Prey:

Small Poets hamper Fools by jingling Rhimes,

And Nonsense draws them by its senseless Chimes.

In this second Canto, pag. 12. we have another Imitation of Virgil, and one ten times more unhappy than the former in the first Canto. The Passage of Virgil is in the second Book of the Aeneis:

Dolus, an virtus, quis in hoste requirit?

That is to say, If a Captain obtains a Victory, few enquire whether he ow'd it to Stratagem or open Force.

The Imitation is included in the following Lines:

Th' adventurous Baron the bright Lock admir'd,

He saw, he wish'd, and to the Prize aspir'd;

Resolv'd to win, he meditates the Way

By Force to ravish, or by Fraud betray:

For when Success a Lover's Toil attends,

Few ask, if Fraud or Force attain'd his Ends.

Now the Mischief of it is, that if a Lover obtains his Ends by Force, the whole Country makes a very severe Enquiry into it, by their Representative, a petty Jury; and if he happens to be convicted of it, in that Case poor Culprit passes his Time but scurvily.

In the Letter, which I lately sent you concerning the Characters, I mention'd several of the Sentiments which are to be found in Ariel's Speech: But I know not how I omitted that which follows:

To fifty chosen Sylphs of special Note

We trust, th' important Charge, the Petticoat:

Oft have we known that sevenfold Fence to fail,

Though stiff with Hoops, and arm'd with Ribs of Whale.

Where, Sir, 'tis easy to observe, that as 'tis Belinda's Petticoat of which he commits the important Charge to the Sylphs; 'tis the Petticoat of the same Belinda, according to all English Meaning, and all true grammatical Construction, that he has known so often to fail in spight of the Hoops of Whalebone. And now I leave you to judge if there was not Reason for telling Mrs. Arabella, in the Epistle, that Madam Belinda was not like her.

There seems indeed to be a terrible Shock made upon the same Petticoat, in the Beginning of the fifth Canto, pag. 42.

All side in Parties, and begin th' Attack,

Fans clap, Silks rattle, and tough Whale-bones crack.

By tough Whalebones he cannot mean those of the Fans, for they are limber enough. Besides, Fans were mention'd in the Beginning of this last Verse. The tough Whale-bones then, at he latter End of it, are those of the Petticoat, and could not possibly be heard to crack, unless a violent Attack had been made upon it.

At the Bottom of Pag. 15. Canto III. there is a very notable Thought:

Coffee, which makes the Politician wise,

And see through all Things with his half-shut Eyes,

Sent up in Vapours to the Baron's Brain

New Stratagems the radiant Lock to gain.

Now what was this new Stratagem, or these new Stratagems? Why, the Baron comes behind Belinda as she was drinking her Coffee, and, snap, off goes the Lock. Now if this was the new Stratagem, what in the Name of Impertinence could be the old one?

But the profoundest and wisest Reflections of all, are at the End of this third Canto.

What Time would spare, from Steel receives its Date,

And Monuments, like Men, submit to Fate:

Steel did the Labour of the Gods destroy,

And strike to Dust th' imperial Tow'rs of Troy▪

Steel could the Works of mortal Pride confound,

And hew triumphal Arches to the Ground.

What Wonder then, fair Nymph, thy Hair should feel

The conquering Force of unresisting Steel?

Why, who the Devil, besides this Bard, ever made a Wonder of it? What! before Troy Town, and triumphal Arches were built, was the cutting off a Lock of Hair a miraculous Thing? But we may very properly apply what he says of Steel, and the cutting off a Lock of Hair to Fire, and the burning of a Faggot.

What Time would spare, from Fire receives its Date,

And lofty Piles, like Men, submit to Fate;

Fire did the Work of Demi Gods consume,

And laid in Dust th' imperial Tow'rs of Rome;

Fire could the Works of mortal Pride confound,

And level this proud City with the Ground:

To Fire a Victim sacred Paul's could fall,

And eke the regal Turrets of Whitehall:

What Wonder, one poor Faggot should expire

By the resistless Force of conqu'ring Fire?

But, Sir, I have once more unawares transgress'd the Bounds prescrib'd to my self, and am,

Yours, &c.

LETTER VI.

SIR,

THE Complaint which you make of my long Silence, and the Interruption of this weighty Affair, seems to be a Return to that Compliment which I design'd to make you, by discontinuing my Observations upon these arrant Bawbles. It was in Complaisance to you that I began to make them; and it was out of Respect to your Judgment that I left them off. They began to run into Length, and I thought I might as reasonably entertain you with voluminous Remarks upon Mites in Cheese, or upon Eels in Vinegar, as with tedious Observations on Mr. Pope's Poems.

But since 'tis your Desire that I should make an end of what I have begun. I am resolv'd to comply with it, as far as my Indisposition, and my Affairs, and the Satiety which I have contracted in saying so much already, will permit me. For the Difficulty here does not lie in making Remarks, but in Reading. The Faults are so gross and so numerous, that there is no more Pleasure in finding them, than there is in hunting in a Hare-Warren.

I am now come to the Sentiments, which are to be found in the fourth and fifth Cantos of this notable Poem. I shall only take notice of a very few, by which you and your Friends may judge of the whole.

The first Thing I shall take notice of, is the impertinent Journey of Umbriel the Gnome, who

Down to the central Earth, his proper Scene,

Repairs to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen.

Pag. 3.

Now to what Purpose does this fantastick Being take this Journey? Why, to give Belinda the Spleen. In order to which, Spleen equips him with a Bottle and a Bag, as a Country Dame does her Plough-Jobber, to equip him for his Day's Work.

A wondrous Bag with both her Hands she binds,

Like that where once Ulysses held the Winds;

There she collects the Force of female Lungs,

Sighs, Sobs, and Passions, and the War of Tongues.

A Viol next she fills with fainting Fears,

Soft Sorrows, melting Griefs, and flowing Tears.

Now what could be more impertinent than this Journey of Umbriel, or more vain and useless than this Gift of Spleen, whether we look upon the Bag or the Bottle?

Umbriel descends to the central Earth to give Belinda the Spleen. Now 'tis plain, that before his Descent he leaves her mad, and upon his Return, finds her in a Fit of the Mother.

That before his Journey he leaves her mad, is I think pretty plain, from pag. 28.

Then flash'd the livid Lightning from her Eyes,

And Screams of Horror rend th' affrighted Skies.

Not louder Shrieks by Dames to Heaven are cast—

That upon his Return he finds her in a Fit of the Mother, is manifest from p. 35.

Sunk in Thalestris' Arms the Nymph he found,

Her Eyes dejected, and her Hair unbound.

How absurd was it then for this Ignis Fatuus to take a Journey down to the central Earth, for no other Purpose than to give her the Spleen, whom he left and found in the Height of it? And why does this impertinent Devil, who sees this, give himself the Trouble which he takes in the following Lines:

Full o'er their Heads the swelling Bag he rent,

And all the Furies issu'd at the Vent,

Belinda burns with more than mortal Ire. Ibid.

Now, pray, what were the Furies enclos'd in this Bag? Why we were told what they were a little higher, viz. the Force of female Lungs, and Bedlam Passions, and the War of Tongues. Now could Belinda have more of those than she had before the Gnome took his Journey?

Then flash'd the livid Lightning from her Eyes,

And Screams of Horror rend th' affrighted Skies.

And as for the Bottle, that seems like Trinca. lo's, rather to comfort her, than to ferment her more. For let us but consider the Condition in which Umbriel found her upon his Return;

Sunk in Thalestris' Arms the Nymph he found,

Her Eyes dejected, and her Hair unbound.

That is to say, she was stark mad.

Now let us compare this Condition with that in which she appears after she has a Dram of the Bottle?

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome, forbears not so,

He breaks the Viol whence the Sorrows flow.

Now, pray, what is the Consequence? Why Belinda of a sudden comes to herself, holds up her Head, and is calm enough to make Reflections.

The next Thing I shall take notice of, is the Equipage of Spleen, and this Author's giving her two Handmaids, the one of which ought rather to be her Mother than her Maid, and the other can have nothing at all to do with her.

Two Handmaids wait the Throne, alike in Place,

But diff'ring far in Figure and in Face.

Here stood Ill-Nature, like an antient Maid—

Here the Author, with a great deal of Judgment makes a Universal subordinate to a Particular. Ill-Nature may with some Colour be said to be the Mother of Spleen, but she can never be call'd her Maid, without shocking common Sense. The Nature of a Man must be coeval to the Man, and must far precede any Thing that the World calls Spleen in him. But let us take a View of her other Handmaid, pag. 32.

There Affectation with a sickly Mien,

Shews in her Cheeks the Roses of eighteen.

Now Affectation can never have any Thing to do with Spleen. Spleen is the Mother of Passion, which is Nature; Affectation is the Child of Tranquillity, and for the most part is nothing but counterfeit Passion. Now he, who has violent Passions of his own, is hardly at leisure to counterfeit those which are foreign to him; and therefore it has been often seen, that when too much Felicity has made a Fop affected, Spleen and Adversity have brought him back to Nature.

I will not take notice of the various Errors in the Description of what he calls the Palace of Spleen. I shall content myself with the Mention of one of them, which may not improperly be call'd the impossible Transformation.

Unnumber'd Throngs on ev'ry Side are seen

Of Bodies chang'd to various Forms by Spleen;

Here living Tea-pots stand, one Arm held out,

One bent; the Handle this, and that the Spout.

A Pipkin there, like Homer's Tripod walks,

Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pie talks:

Men prove with Child, as pow'rful Fancy works,

And Maids, turn'd Bottles, call aloud for Corks.

Now, Sir, I appeal to you and your Friends, if ever there was such execrable Stuff, such lamentable, such deplorable Pleasantry! What says Horace?

Scribendi rectè sapere est & principium & sons.

Good Sense is the sole Foundation of good Writing. And, according to him, Boileau;

Quelque sujet qu' on traite, ou plaisant, ou sublime,

Que toujours le bon sens s'accorde avec le rime.

Good Sense is the only Foundation both of Pleasantry and Sublimity: But that which is out of Truth, is certainly out of Nature and Good Sense. Now was ever any Thing more out of Truth than the foregoing Description? Instead of giving Spleen a Power to bring melancholy Delusions upon Mortals, and to cheat them with false Appearances, this Author gives her the Power really to transform Bodies, and makes Umbriel the Gnome, who, as a Spirit, is suppos'd to see Things as they are, actually and really to behold that extravagant Transformation. But so much for the Sentiments of the fourth Canto.

As the fifth is very short, and very insipid, and as your humble Servant is very much tir'd, I shall make but two Observations upon it.

In the Beginning of it there is a rampant Scuffle, which I suppose our Author took from the Rankness of a Buttock-Ball, so little is it becoming of Persons of Condition.

All side in Parties, and begin th' Attack,

Fans clap, Silks rustle, and tough Whale-bones crack,

Heroes and Heroines Shouts confus'dly rise,

And bass and treble Voices strike the Skies:

No common Weapons in their Hands are found,

Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal Wound.

The latter Part is something odd in the Mouth of the Translator of Homer, who ought to know, that both Mars and Venus had been wounded by Diomedes. But if no common Weapons are found in the Hands of these Combatants, pray what Weapons are they which make the Silks to rustle, and the Whalebones to crack? But let us consider what follows:

So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,

And heavenly Breasts with human Passions rage,

'Gainst Pallas, Mars, Latona, Hermes arms,

And all Olympus rings with loud Alarms:

Jove's Thunder roars, Heav'n trembles all around,

Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing Deeps resound,

Earth shakes her nodding Tow'rs, the Ground gives way,

And the pale Ghosts start at the Flash of Day.

Now, Sir, who says that this Passage is not very justly applied to a Catterwauling? But the latter Part of it is not taken from Homer, but from his most impertinent Imitator Monsieur De la Motte, and neither the one nor the other Trifler seem to have known any thing in this Passage, of the Solemnity, and the dreadful Majesty of Homer.

In the Beginning of the next Page the following Lines are full of miserable Pleasantry:

While thro' the Press enrag'd Thalestris flies,

And scatters Death around from both her Eyes,

A Beau and Witling perish'd in the Throng,

One died in Metaphor, and one in Song.

O cruel Nymph! a living Death I bear,

Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beneath his Chair.

A mournful Glance, Sir Fopling upwards cast,

Those Eyes are made so killing!—was his last.

So that here we have a real Combat and a metaphorical dying. Now is not that, Sir, very ludicrous? What, did he fight, or make Love, as Professors read, or as Popes fulminate ex Cathedrâ? I cannot imagine how he could do that, unless he had got Belinda or Thalestris upon his Lap.

Thus, Sir, have I gone thro' several of the Sentiments upon the Rape, which are either trifling, or false. But there are a great many Lines, which have no Sentiment at all in them, that is, no reasonable Meaning. Such are the Puns which are every where spread throughout it. Puns bear the same Proportion to Thought, that Bubbles hold to Bodies, and may justly be compared to those gaudy Bladders which Children make with Soap; which, tho' they please their weak Capacities with a momentary Glittering, yet are but just beheld, and vanish into Air. Of this Nature is that Pun in the 5th Canto, p. 44.

See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,

With more than usual Lightning in her Eyes,

Nor fears the Chief th' unequal Fight to try,

Who sought no more than on his Foe to die.

That is to say, He wish'd for nothing more than to fight with her, because he desired nothing more than to lie with her. Now what sensible Meaning can this have, unless he takes her for a Russian, who is to grow passionately fond of him by the extraordinary Gallantry of a lusty Bastinado? Such likewise is that Quibble in the following Page:

Boast not my Fall, (he cry'd) Insulting Foe,

Thou by some others shalt be laid as low.

Now we heard nothing before of the Baron's lying low. All that we heard is, that by a dextrous Toss of this modest Virgin, his Nostrils were fill'd with Snuff. So that he seems here to say the same thing to her, that Nykin says to Cocky in the Old Batchelor; I have it in my Head, but you will have it in another Place. What follows seems to be very extraordinary:

Nor think to die dejects my lofty Mind,

All that I dread is leaving you behind:

Rather than so, ah! let me still survive,

And burn in Cupid's Flames, but burn alive.

Now, Sir, who ever heard of a dead Man that burnt in Cupid's Flames?

Of the same Nature are those numerous Banters in Rhyme, which are to be found throughout this Poem, which are so uniform, and so much of a piece, that one would swear the Author were giving a Receipt for dry Joking: For by placing something important in the Beginning of a Period, and making something very trifling follow it, he seems to take pains to bring something into a Conjunction Copulative with nothing, in order to beget nothing. Of this there are divers Instances in Ariel's Speech in the 2d Canto;

This Day black Omens threat the brightest Fair

That e'er deserv'd the watchfull'st Spirit's Care;

Some dire Disaster, or by Force or Sleight,

But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in Night:

Whether the Nymph shall break Diana's Law,

Or some frail China Jar receive a Flaw,

Or stain her Honour, or her new Brocade,

Forget her Pray'rs, or miss a Masquerade,

Or lose her Heart, or Necklace at a Ball

Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall.

Which, by the way, I suppose is design'd as a bitter Bob for the Predestinarians. Raillery apart, we pretend not to deny, that the very minutest Events are foredoom'd by eternal Prescience; but that Heave• should give notice of the Death of a vile Dog, by what he calls black Omens, is a great deal too strong. Heaven could do no more for Caesar himself, the very Top of the human Creation, and the Foremost Man of the Universe.

But now, Sir, give me leave to ask you one Question: Is Ariel in Jest or in Earnest, in haranguing the Spirits at this rate? Is he in Earnest? Why then even Robin Goodfellow himself is not a more senseless insignificant Hobgoblin. Is he in Jest? Why then all this is a very grand Impertinence, since it does not so much as aim at any thing: For how can the Spirits be any ways influenced by these dry Jokes of their Leader?

Of the same Stamp and the same Contrivance are these Lines in the Beginning of the 3d Canto:

Here Britain's Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom

Of foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home;

Here Thou, great Anna, whom three Realms obey,

Dost sometimes Council take, and sometimes Tea;—

One speaks the Glory of the British Queen,

And one describes a charming Indian Screen.

As I said above, Sir, is not here a Receipt for dry Joking? and can any thing be more easy than to be a Wit at this rate?

But so much for the Sentiments in this Rape of the Lock; I should now come to the Expression. But I have already transgress'd the Bounds I prescribed to myself, and 'tis Time to take Pity of myself and you. I am, Sir,

Yours, &c.

LETTER VII.

SIR,

THO' I am heartily tired with what I have already sent you, and am really ashamed of having pass'd a Week in thinking on such an empty jingling Trifle as the Rape of the Lock, a wretched Rhapsody, writ for the Amusement of Boys, and Men like Boys; and tho' I am both very much indisposed at present, and very busy, yet since I have received your Commands to send you some Remarks upon the Expressions in that Bawble, in order to compleat the Conversion of Mrs. S_+ ; I will, in Obedience to those Commands, do myself a little more Violence, and will do it in as short a Time, and as small a Compass as I can; for I will confine myself to the first twelve Lines, that by the numerous Faults which will be seen in them, any one to whom you may happen to shew this Letter, may be able to judge of the rest.

This Rhapsody begins with Absurdity;

What dire Offence from amorous Causes springs,

What mighty Contests rise from trivial things,

I sing—This Verse to C_+ Muse is due,

This ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view:

Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise,

If she inspire, and he approve my Lays.

The two first of these Lines, and the Beginning of the third, are out of all Grammatical Construction: For here the Verb Active sing has no Accusative Case depending on it; as the Nominative Case is without a Verb in the Beginning of the Prologue to Cato, which Prologue was writ by the same little whimsical Gentleman.

The Word Muse is a mere Expletive, and can have nothing to do here, since 'tis Belinda only that is to inspire him.

There are no less than six Faults in the six Lines which he calls his Invocation:

Say, what strange Motive, Goddess, cou'd compel

A well-bred Lord t' assault a gentle Belle?

O say, what stranger Cause, yet unexplor'd,

Could make a gentle Belle reject a Lord.

And dwells such Rage in softest Bosoms then?

And dwells such daring Souls in little Men?

Now all this, if it were not for the Rhyme, would appear, even to Fools as well as to Men of Sense, the poorest and most contemptible Stuff that ever laid the gentle Reader asleep. I would fain know what the Word Goddess in the first Line 〈…〉 the Muse, or Belinda. Goddess, by the usual Signification of the Word, relates to Muse, but according to Grammar and Construction, it relates to Belinda, because she was mention'd last, and she is the inspiring Person. The Word compel in the first Line likewise is a Botch for the sake of the Rhyme, the Word that should naturally have been used was either induce or provoke. The Word compel supposes the Baron to be a Beast, and not a free Agent. Now, Sir, what a pretty Sense these two first Lines make:

Say, what strange Motive, Goddess, cou'd compel

A well-bred Lord t' assault a gentle Belle?

That is, what could force a well-bred Man to be damnably rude, and to shew himself an errant Clown and a Brute? As for the Terms gentle Belle, they are too affected, too weak, and too low, and by no means come up to what is said to Belinda in the very next Page by Ariel the Sylph:

Fairest of Mortals, thou distinguish'd Care

Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air.

For Belle and Beau, as we have made them, as it were, English Substantives, do not signify so much as Beautiful, tho' as they are French Adjectives they have that Signification. No Man when he calls another Beau, means, that that other is handsome, but only that he takes a great deal of Poppish Care about his Dress, and gives himself a great many fantastick Airs, in order to please superficial People, and render himself ridiculous to Men of Sense. Belle has much the same Signification, and according to the present Use and Acceptation of the Word, no more signifies a beautiful Woman than Coquette does, but only one that takes a great deal of fruitless Pains to make herself more agreeable than God and Nature have made her. But let us go on to the next Couplet:

Oh say, what stranger Cause, yet unexplor'd,

Could make a gentle Belle reject a Lord?

The Cause was, because she did not like him; a strange Cause indeed, and which required a great deal of Sagacity to find it out. But to what Purpose is the Word reject? Belinda granted him every thing that he ask'd of her. He desired to wait upon her to HamptonCourt, and she granted it. He desired her to make one at Ombre, and she complied with that Request likewise. If she granted no more, it was because he ask'd no more: For, if we may believe herself, by what she says at the Beginning of the fourth Canto, she would have refused him nothing unless it was her favourite Lock:

Oh hadst thou, cruel, been content to seize

Hairs less in Sight, or any Hairs but these.

For she, who seems inclin'd to sacrifice her Modesty to her Vanity, would, in all likelihood, have sacrificed it to her Pleasure. In short, the Baron is so far from making Love in this Rhapsody, that he plainly shews, by the rude Affront which he puts upon Belinda, that he expected no particular Favour from her. And indeed this Party of Pleasure at Hampton-Court seems to me to look more like Catterwauling, than the Behaviour of Persons who went thither with any amorous Design. But let us proceed to the next Couplet:

And dwells such Rage in softest Bosoms then?

Yes, most certainly does it; and if this little Gentleman had not had a Head more soft than Belinda's Bosom, he could never have been capable of asking so simple a Question. The softer Sex are much more subject to violent Passions than Men. Virgil shewed a Softness in Dido, which this little Gentleman is utterly incapable of comprehending; a Softness which obliged a Sovereign Queen, whose Understanding was equal to her Supreme Power, or to her Greatness of Mind, to grant the last Favour to the Trojan Hero, and yet that Softness was immediately succeeded by a Rage, to whose Force, and whose noble Enthusiasm, this little Creature, who is as diminutive an Author as he is an Animal, is as utterly incapable of raising himself, as an earthly Vapour is of ascending to Heaven. But tho' nothing is more plain than that Rage may dwell in softest Bosoms, yet had it no more to do here than reject, and indeed had the less to do here because of reject: For cannot a Lady deny a Gentleman who makes a civil Request to her, but she must sall immediately into as raving a Fit, as she could have done, if he had extorted the Favour from her. Reject shews Contempt rather than Rage: It shews that she did not esteem the Baron enough to be at all angry with him. But let us come to the second Line of the Couplet:

And dwells such daring Souls in little Men?

Yes certainly, daring Souls dwell often in little Men, and for that very Reason, because they are little Men. Did he never hear of what Statius says of little Tydeus:

—totosque infusa per artus

Major in exiguo regnabat corpore virtus.

I myself know a little Monster, who, I dare venture to prophesy, will one Day shew as daring a Soul as a mad Indian who runs a muck. But what Occasion is there for daring Souls here? The Baron shews a good deal of Brutality, and a good deal of Perfidy, but no Daring. He shew'd a great deal of Courage indeed, in coming treacherously behind a Lady and cutting off her favourite Lock!

But all this Piece, is, like Windsor Forest, or the Temple of Fame, below Criticism; and therefore I take my Leave of you. It would be unreasonable to expect that you should read Remarks with Pleasure which I write with Pain; Remarks which may be made by the most ordinary Reader, without any Penetration or any Sagacity. Besides, I have given a sufficient Sample to enable Mrs. S_+ to judge of the rest. For as a Lion is known by his Claws, an Ass is known by his Ears.

I am, &c.

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Title statement

Remarks on Mr. Pope's Rape of the lock. In several letters to a friend. With a preface, occasion'd by the late Treatise on the profound, and the Dunciad. By Mr. Dennis

Dennis, John, 1657-1734.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4157

ID [isbn10]

1106011562

ID [isbn13]

9781106011565

ID [TCP]

K044025.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3312974533

ID [ECLL]

0506900800

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— Remarks on Mr. Pope's Rape of the lock. In several letters to a friend. With a preface, occasion'd by the late Treatise on the profound, and the Dunciad. By Mr. Dennis, Dennis, John, 1657-1734.. [6],iii-xvi,1-48,33-40p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for J. Roberts,. 1728.. [The text and register are continuous.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [Guerinot, p.135] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT46778.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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