No More Learning

Lady Mary had been for years acknowledged as one of the wittiest, most
learned, and most beautiful women of her day. Pope seems to have met her
in 1715 and at once joined the train of her admirers. When she
accompanied her husband on his embassy to Constantinople in the
following year, the poet entered into a long correspondence with her,
protesting in the most elaborate fashion his undying devotion. On her
return he induced her to settle with her husband at Twickenham. Here he
continued his attentions, half real, half in the affected gallantry of
the day, until, to quote the lady's own words to her daughter many years
after, "at some ill-chosen time when she least expected what romancers
call a declaration, he made such passionate love to her, as, in spite of
her utmost endeavours to be angry and look grave, provoked an immoderate
fit of laughter," and, she added, from that moment Pope became her
implacable enemy. Certainly by the time Pope began to write the
'Dunciad' he was so far estranged from his old friend that he permitted
himself in that poem a scoffing allusion to a scandal in which she had
recently become involved. The lady answered, or the poet thought that
she did, with an anonymous pamphlet, 'A Pop upon Pope', describing a
castigation, wholly imaginary, said to have been inflicted upon the poet
as a proper reward for his satire. After this, of course, all hope of a
reconciliation was at an end, and in his satires and epistles Pope
repeatedly introduced Lady Mary under various titles in the most
offensive fashion. In his first 'Imitation of Horace', published in
February, 1733, he referred in the most unpardonable manner to a certain
Sappho, and the dangers attendant upon any acquaintance with her. Lady
Mary was foolish enough to apply the lines to herself and to send a
common friend to remonstrate with Pope. He coolly replied that he was
surprised that Lady Mary should feel hurt, since the lines could only
apply to certain women, naming four notorious scribblers, whose lives
were as immoral as their works. Such an answer was by no means
calculated to turn away the lady's wrath, and for an ally in the
campaign of anonymous abuse that she now planned she sought out her
friend Lord Hervey. John Hervey, called by courtesy Lord Hervey, the
second son of the Earl of Bristol, was one of the most prominent figures
at the court of George II. He had been made vice-chamberlain of the
royal household in 1730, and was the intimate friend and confidential
adviser of Queen Caroline. Clever, affable, unprincipled, and cynical,
he was a perfect type of the Georgian courtier to whom loyalty,
patriotism, honesty, and honor were so many synonyms for folly.
He was
effeminate in habits and appearance, but notoriously licentious; he
affected to scoff at learning but made some pretense to literature, and
had written 'Four Epistles after the Manner of Ovid', and numerous
political pamphlets. Pope, who had some slight personal acquaintance
with him, disliked his political connections and probably despised his
verses, and in the 'Imitation' already mentioned had alluded to him
under the title of Lord Fanny as capable of turning out a thousand lines
of verse a day. This was sufficient cause, if cause were needed, to
induce Hervey to join Lady Mary in her warfare against Pope.

The first blow was struck in an anonymous poem, probably the combined
work of the two allies, called 'Verses addressed to the Imitator of
Horace', which appeared in March, 1733, and it was followed up in August
by an 'Epistle from a Nobleman to a Doctor of Divinity', which also
appeared anonymously, but was well known to be the work of Lord Hervey.
In these poems Pope was abused in the most unmeasured terms. His work
was styled a mere collection of libels; he had no invention except in
defamation; he was a mere pretender to genius. His morals were not left
unimpeached; he was charged with selling other men's work printed in his
name,--a gross distortion of his employing assistants in the translation
of the 'Odyssey',--he was ungrateful, unjust, a foe to human kind, an
enemy like the devil to all that have being. The noble authors, probably
well aware how they could give the most pain, proceeded to attack his
family and his distorted person. His parents were obscure and vulgar
people; and he himself a wretched outcast:

with the emblem of [his] crooked mind
Marked on [his] back like Cain by God's own hand.

And to cap the climax, as soon as these shameful libels were in print,
Lord Hervey bustled off to show them to the Queen and to laugh with her
over the fine way in which he had put down the bitter little poet.

In order to understand and appreciate Pope's reception of these attacks,
we must recall to ourselves the position in which he lived. He was a
Catholic, and I have already (Introduction, p. x) called attention to
the precarious, tenure by which the Catholics of his time held their
goods, their persons, their very lives, in security. He was the intimate
of Bolingbroke, of all men living the most detested by the court, and
his noble friends were almost without exception the avowed enemies of
the court party. Pope had good reason to fear that the malice of his
enemies might not be content to stop with abusive doggerel. But he was
not in the least intimidated.