which can be supposed to have been written with such regard to the times as might hasten their publication, were the two satires of "Thirty-eight:" of which Dodsley told me, that they were brought to him by the author, that they might be fairly copied. “Every line,” said he, “was then written twice over; I gave him a clean transcript, which he sent some time afterwards to me for the press, with almost every line written twice over a second time."

His declaration, that his care for his works ceased at their publication, was not strictly true. His parental attention never abandoned them: what he found amiss in the first edition, he silently corrected in those that followed. He appears to have revised the “Iliad," and freed it from some of its imperfections ; and the "Essay on Criticism" received many improvements after its first appearance. It will seldom be found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, or vigour. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden certainly wanted the diligence of Pope.

In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, whose education was more scholastic, and who, before he became an author, had been allowed more time for study, with better means of information. His mind has a larger range, and he collects his images and illustrations from a more extensive circumference of science. Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those of Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope.

Poetry was not the sole praise of either; for both excelled likewise in prose; but Pope did not borrow his prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is capricious and varied; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden obeys the motions of his own mind; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by the roller.

Of genius—that power which constitutes a poet; that quality without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that energy which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates—the superiority must, with some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred that of this poetical vigour Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more; for every other writer

since Milton must give place to Pope; and even of Dryden it must be said, that if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not better poems. Dryden's performances were always hasty, either excited by some external occasion, or extorted by domestic necessity; he composed without consideration, and published without correction. What his mind could supply at call, or gather in one excursion,' was all that he sought, and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled him to condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate all that study might produce, or chance might supply. If the flights of Dryden, therefore, are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight.

LORD CHATHAM.

1. PITT'S REPLY TO WALPOLE.2

(SPOKEN IN 1740.)

THE atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies cease with their youth; and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience.3

(1) A very happily chosen word. A sort of rush out, or raid, supplied him with what he wanted, and then, like a North American Indian, he sank again into idleness and repose.

(2) In a debate in the House in 1740, Walpole had taunted Mr. Pitt (afterwards the famous Lord Chatham) with his youth and theatrical manner of speaking. He is said to have replied in the above speech. That he used these words is, however, very doubtful. Dr. Johnson was the reporter, and the style confesses his hand. Still, as a specimen of writing, it is worthy of preservation, though not, perhaps, of imitation. Dr. Angus ("Handbook of English Literature") characterises it as a "masterpiece of dignity and sarcasm." It has obviously little in common with the true manner and style of Lord Chatham, as shown in the genuine specimens of his speeches (pp. 285–291).

(3) Walpole was at this time seventy-four years of age.

Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not assume the province of determining: but, surely, age may become justly contemptible if the opportunities which it brings have past away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided.-The wretch that, having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder,-and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempt; and deserves not that his grey head should secure him from insults. Much more is he to be abhorred-who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked with less temptation: who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country.

But youth is not my only crime. I have been accused of acting a theatrical part.

A theatrical part may imply either some peculiarities of gesture, -or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of another.

In the first sense, the charge is too trifling to be confuted; and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am at liberty (like every other man) to use my own language: and though I may, perhaps, have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction, or his mien; however matured by age, or modelled by experience. But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behaviour, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain: nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment which he deserves. I shall, upon such an occasion, without scruple, trample on all those forms with which wealth and dignity entrench themselves; nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment; age, which always brings one privilege -that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. But with regard to those whom I have offended,-I am of opinion that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure. The heat that offended them is the ardour of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which neither hope, nor fear, shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded;

(1) Dissimulation. See note 2, p. 96. This word is here correctly used in the classical sense; but in the same sense, the "adoption of the opinions of another" would have been called "simulation;" but this word has never taken root in the language.

nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavours, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villainy, and whoever may partake of the plunder.

2. THE AMERICAN WAR.

(EXTRACT FROM SPEECH DELIVERED NOVEMBER 18, 1777.)

"BUT yesterday and England might have stood against the world: now none so poor to do her reverence.' I use the words of a poet; but though it be poetry it is no fiction. It is a shameful truth, that not only the power and strength of this country are wasting away and expiring, but her well-earned glories, her true honour and substantial dignity, are sacrificed. France, my lords, has insulted you;2 she has encouraged and sustained America; and, whether America be wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to spurn at the officious insult of French interference. The ministers and ambassadors of those who are called rebels and enemies are in Paris; in Paris they transact the reciprocal interests of America and France. Can there be a more mortifying insult? Can even our ministers sustain a more humiliating disgrace? Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume to hint a vindication of their honour, and the dignity of the state, by requiring the dismissal of the plenipotentiaries of America? Such is the degradation to which they have reduced the glories of England! The people whom they affect to call contemptible rebels, but whose growing power has at last obtained the name of enemies; the people with whom they have engaged this country in war, and against whom they now command our implicit support in every measure of desperate hostility; this people, despised as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, are

3

(1) Remarking on this celebrated speech, M. Taine (" Hist. de la Litt. Ang.," iii. 77) says, "Il y a quelque chose de Milton et de Shakspeare dans cette pompe tragique, dans cette solennité passionnée, dans l'éclat sombre et violent de ce style surchargé et trop fort."

(2) Insulted you. This is probably in reference to the studied attention, which had just before been paid, in Paris, to Franklin, as an American.

(3) Rebels, enemies. Those who are rebels when in opposition to constituted authority, become enemies if they can make good their cause. In the late civil war in America the Northern States always refused to allow the Southerners to be called enemies,

abetted against you, supplied with military stores; their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, by your inveterate enemy! and our ministers dare not interpose with dignity or effect. Is this the honour of a great kingdom? Is this the indignant spirit of England, who, "but yesterday," gave law to the house of Bourbon? My lords, the dignity of nations demands a decisive conduct in a situation like this. Even when the greatest prince that perhaps this country ever saw, filled our throne, the requisition of a Spanish general on a similar subject was attended to, and complied with; for, on the spirited remonstrance of the Duke of Alva, Elizabeth found herself obliged to deny the Flemish exiles all countenance, support, or even entrance into her dominions; and the Count le Marque, with his few desperate followers, was expelled the kingdom. Happening to arrive at the Brille, and finding it weak in defence, they made themselves masters of the place, and this was the foundation of the United Provinces.

My lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where we cannot act with success, nor suffer with honour, calls upon us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of truth, to rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which surround it. The desperate state of our arms abroad is in part known;' no man thinks more highly of them than I do; I love and honour the English troops; I know their virtues and their valour; I know they can achieve anything except impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of English America is an impossibility. You cannot, I venture to say it, you cannot conquer America. Your armies last war effected everything that could be effected; and what was it? It cost a numerous army under the command of a most able general, now a noble lord in this house, a long and laborious campaign, to expel five thousand Frenchmen from French America. My lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. Besides the sufferings, perhaps total loss of the northern force (Burgoyne's); the best appointed army that ever took the field, commanded by Sir William Howe, has retired from the American lines; he was obliged to relinquish his attempt, and with great delay and danger, to adopt a new and distant plan of operations. We shall soon know, and in any event have reason to lament what may have happened

(1) At the moment that Lord Chatham was speaking, he was unacquainted with the fact which was officially made known almost immediately after-that Burgoyne had surrendered his army at Saratoga.