mously give testimony. But it is sufficient, instar omnium, to behold the great critic, Mr. Dennis, sorely lamenting it, even from the Essay on Criticism to this day of the Dunciad! "A most notorious instance (quoth he) of the depravity of genius and taste, the approbation this Essay meets with[1]—I can safely affirm, that I never attacked any of these writings, unless they had success infinitely beyond their merit.—This, though an empty, has been a popular scribler. The epidemic madness of the times has given him reputation[2].—If, after the cruel treatment so many extraordinary men (Spencer, Lord Bacon, Ben. Johnson, Milton, Butler, Otway, and others) have received from this country, for these last hundred years, I should shift the scene, and shew all that penury changed at once to riot and profuseness; and more squandered away upon one object, than would have satisfied the greater part of those extraordinary men; the reader to whom this one creature should be unknown, would fancy him a prodigy of art and nature, would believe that all the great qualities of these persons were centered in him alone.—But if I should venture to assure him, that the People of England had made such a choice—the reader would either believe me a malicious enemy, and slanderer; or that the reign of the last (Queen Anne's) Ministry was designed by fate to encourage Fools[3] ."
But it happens, that this our Poet never had any Place, Pension, or Gratuity, in any shape, from the said glorious Queen, or any of her Ministers. All he owed, in the whole course of his life, to any court, was a subscription, for his Homer, of 200 l. from King George I, and 100l. from the prince and princess.
However, lest we imagine our Author's Success was constant and universal, they acquaint us o f certain works in a less degree of repute, whereof, although owned by others, yet do they assure us he is the writer. Of this sort Mr. Dennis[4] ascribes to him two Farces, whose names he does not tell, but assures us that there is not one jest in them: And an imitation of Horace, whose title he does not mention, but assures us it is much more execrable than all his works[5]. The Daily Journal, May 11, 1728. assures us, "He is below Tom. Durfey in the Drama, because (as that writer thinks) the Marriage Hater matched, and the Boarding School are better than the What-d'-ye-call-it;" which is not Mr. P.'s, but Mr. Gay's. Mr. Gildon assures us, in his New Rehearsal, p. 48. "That he was writing a play of the Lady Jane Grey;" but it afterwards proved to be Mr. Row's. We are assured by another, "He wrote a pamphlet called
