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labours of the poet himself. He it was, who had wrongs, real or fanciful, to avenge, enemies to attack, and triumphs to gain. "He delighted to vex the dunces," as Johnson said; but he had more delight in seeing how well he could vex them. He put forth all his strength in the effort, and his success was commensurate with the labour. None of his works seem to have gone so rapidly through numerous editions; and in Dublin, according to Swift, it was read as eagerly as in London. Additions and alterations were made from time to time both in the text and notes. To the fourth book, and to the poem in its completed state, Warburton gave zealous assistance, overloading the text with his curious and often far-fetched comments, and adding some of his own critical feuds and enmities to the ample store accumulated by the poet. The edition of 1743, as the last seen by the author, must always be held to be the standard.

The conclusion of the Dunciad is one of the noblest passages in the whole of Pope's poetry-grand in conception, and rapid and brilliant in execution; and it may be interesting to show the various stages of progress through which this burst of lofty declamation passed, even after it had gone into the hands of the printer, before it arrived at its final perfection :—

FROM EDITION OF 1728.

Thus when these signs declare the mighty year,
When the dull stars roll round and re-appear,
"Let there be darkness!" the dread power shall say;

All shall be darkness as it ne'er were day.

To their first chaos Wit's vain works shall fall,

And universal Dulness cover all!

No more the monarch could such raptures bear,
He wak'd and all the vision mix'd with air.

FROM EDITION OF 1729.

Signs following signs lead on the mighty year;
See the dull stars roll round and re-appear.
She comes! the cloud-compelling power behold!
With Night primeval and with Chaos old.
Lo! the great Anarch's ancient reign restor'd,
Light dies before her uncreating word:
As one by one, at dread Medea's strain,
The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain;
As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand oppress'd,
Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach and secret might
Art after art goes out and all is night.
See skulking Truth in her old cavern lie,
Secur'd by mountains of heap'd casuistry:

Philosophy, that touch'd the heavens before,
Shrinks to her hidden cause and is no more:
See Physic beg the Stagirite's defence!
See Metaphysic call for aid on Sense!
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!

In vain they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Thy hand, great Dulness! lets the curtain fall,
And universal Darkness buries all.

"Enough! enough!" the raptured monarch cries
And through the ivory gate the vision flies.

FROM EDITION OF 1742.

In vain, in vain-the all-composing hour
Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the power.
She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold
Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old!
Before her Fancy's gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.
As one by one at dread Medea's strain,
The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain;
As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand oppress'd,
Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
Art after art goes out and all is night.
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head,
Philosophy that lean'd on heaven before,
Shrinks to her second cause and is no more.
Physic of Metaphysic begs defence,

And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!

In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine,
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine.
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor❜d;
Light dies before thy unereating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall,

And universal Darkness buries all.

We subjoin the Prefaces and Advertisements prefixed to the different editions. It will be recollected that all the notes not included within brackets were published by Pope and written by him or his friends.]

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FACSIMILE OF THE FRONTISPIECE TO THE DUNCIAD, A.D. 1729.

PREFACE

PREFIXED TO THE FIVE FIRST IMPERFECT EDITIONS OF THE DUNCIAD, IN THREE BOOKS, PRINTED AT DUBLIN AND LONDON, IN OCTAVO AND DUODECIMO, 1727.

THE PUBLISHER1 TO THE READER.

Ir will be found a true observation, though somewhat surprising, that when any scandal is vented against a man of the highest distinction and character, either in the state or in literature, the public in general afford it a most quiet reception; and the larger part accept it as favourably as if it were some kindness done to themselves: whereas if a known scoundrel or blockhead but chance to be touched upon, a whole legion is up in arms, and it becomes the common cause of all scribblers, booksellers, and printers whatsoever.

1 Who he was is uncertain; but Edward Ward tells us, in his preface to Durgen, "that most judges are of opinion this preface is not of English extraction, but Hibernian," &c. He means it was written by Dr. Swift, who, whether publisher or not, may be said in a sort to be author of the poem: for when he, together with Mr. Pope (for reasons specified in the preface to their Miscellanies), determined to own the most trifling pieces in which they had any hand, and to destroy all that remained in their power; the first sketch of this poem was snatched from the fire by Dr. Swift, who persuaded his friend to proceed in it, and to him it was therefore inscribed. But the occasion of printing it was as follows.

There was published in those Miscellanies, a Treatise of the Bathos, or Art of Sinking in Poetry, in which was a chapter, where the species of bad writers were ranged in classes, and initial letters of names prefixed, for the most part at random. But such was the number of poets eminent in that art, that some one or other took every letter to himself. All fell into so violent a fury, that for half a year, or more, the common newspapers (in most of which they had some property, as being hired writers) were filled with the most abusive falsehoods and scurrilities they could possibly devise: a liberty no ways to be wondered at in those people, and in those papers, that, for many years, during the uncontrolled license of the press, had aspersed almost all the great characters of the age; and this with impunity, their own persons and names being utterly secret and obscure. This gave Mr. Pope the thought, that he had now some opportunity of doing good, by detecting and dragging into light these common enemies of mankind; since to invalidate this universal slander, it sufficed to show what contemptible men were the authors of it. He was not without hopes, that by manifesting the dulness of those who had only malice to recommend them, either the booksellers would not find their account in employing them; or the men themselves, when discovered, want courage to proceed in so unlawful an occupation, This it was that gave birth to the Dunciad; and he thought it a happiness, that by the late flood of slander on himself, he had acquired such a peculiar right over their names as was necessary to his design. [This note is part of a statement published with the name of Savage the poet, but always believed to be by Pope himself. The assertion that the initial letters of the names in the Treatise of the Bathos were set down at random, cannot be credited; nor is the account here given of the circumstances attending the publication of the Dunciad to be implicitly received. The Miscellanies, including the Treatise on the Bathos, were not published before June, 1727, (the preface is dated May 27, and Swift did not arrive in London before the end of April,) and if six months or more elapsed after the publication of the Miscellanies before the fury of the dunces gave birth to the Dunciad, the latter could not have been completed before 1728. The poet, however, states (see Notes at the end of the poem) that the Dunciad was written in 1726, and published in the following year.]

Not to search too deeply into the reason hereof, I will only observe as a fact, that every week, for these two months past, the town has been persecucuted with 2 pamphlets, advertisements, letters, and weekly essays, not only against the wit and writings, but against the character and person of Mr. Pope. And that of all those men who have received pleasure from his works, which by modest computation may be about a hundred thousand in these kingdoms of England and Ireland; (not to mention Jersey, Guernsey, the Orcades, those in the new world, and foreigners who have translated him into their languages) of all this number not a man hath stood up to say one word in his defence.

The only exception is the author of the following poem, who doubtless had either a better insight into the grounds of this clamour, or a better opinion of Mr. Pope's integrity, joined with a greater personal love for him, than any other of his numerous friends and admirers.

Farther, that he was in his peculiar intimacy, appears from the knowledge he manifests of the most private authors of all the anonymous pieces against him, and from his having in this poem attacked 5 no man living, who had not before printed, or published, some scandal against this gentleman.

How I came possessed of it, is no concern to the reader; but it would have been a wrong to him had I detained the publication; since those names which are its chief ornaments die off daily so fast, as must render it too soon unintelligible. If it provoke the author to give us a more perfect edition, I have my end.

Who he is I cannot say, and (which is great pity) there is certainly nothing in his style and manner of writing which can distinguish or discover him for if it bears any resemblance to that of Mr. Pope, 'tis not improbable but it might be done on purpose, with a view to have it pass for his. But by the frequency of his allusions to Virgil, and a laboured (not to say affected) shortness in imitation of him, I should think him more an admirer of the Roman poet than of the Grecian, and in that not of the same taste with his friend.

2 See the list of those anonymous papers, with their dates and authors annexed inserted before the poem.

3 It is surprising with what stupidity this preface, which is almost a continued irony, was taken by those authors. All such passages as these were understood by Curll, Cooke, Cibber, and others, to be serious. Hear the laureate (letter to Mr. Pope, p. 9). "Though I grant the Dunciad a better poem of its kind than ever was writ; yet, when I read it with those vain-glorious encumbrances of notes and remarks upon it, &c.it is amazing, that you, who have writ with such masterly spirit upon the ruling passion, should be so blind a slave to your own, as not to see how far a low avarice of praise," &c., (taking it for granted that the notes of Scriblerus and others, were the author's own).

4 A very plain irony, speaking of Mr. Pope himself.

5 The publisher in these words went a little too far: but it is certain whatever names the reader finds that are unknown to him, are of such; and the exception is only of two or three, whose dulness, impudent scurrility, or self-conceit, all mankind agreed to have justly entitled them to a place in the Dunciad.

6 This irony had small effect in concealing the author. The Dunciad, imperfect as it was, had not been published two days, but the whole town gave it to Mr. Pope.

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