50
pounds, and even touched, 1,000 pounds. In the middle of September it
was down to 590 pounds, and before the end of the year it had dropped to
125 pounds. Pope himself bought stock when it stood so low as 104
pounds, but he had never the courage to sell, and consequently lost,
according to his own account, half his worldly possessions. The Prime
Minister, Sir Robert Walpole, also bought stock, but he sold--as did his
Most Gracious Majesty the King--at 1,000 pounds. The age was also a
scandalous, ill-living age, and Pope, who was a most confirmed gossip and
tale-bearer, picked up all that was going. The details of every lawsuit
of a personal character were at his finger-ends. Whoever starved a
sister, or forged a will, or saved his candle-ends, made a fortune
dishonestly, or lost one disgracefully, or was reported to do so, be he
citizen or courtier, noble duke or plump alderman, Mr. Pope was sure to
know all about it, and as likely as not to put it into his next satire.
Living, as the poet did, within easy distance of London, he always turned
up in a crisis as regularly as a porpoise in a storm, so at least writes
a noble friend. This sort of thing naturally led to quarrels, and the
shocking incompleteness of this lecture stands demonstrated by the fact
that, though I have almost done, I have as yet said nothing abort Pope's
quarrels, which is nearly as bad as writing about St. Paul and leaving
out his journeys. Pope's quarrels are celebrated. His quarrel with Mr.
Addison, culminating in the celebrated description, almost every line of
which is now part and parcel of the English language; his quarrel with
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whom he satirized in the most brutal lines
ever written by man of woman; his quarrel with Lord Hervey; his quarrel
with the celebrated Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, ought not to be
dismissed so lightly, but what can I do? From the Duchess of Marlborough
Pope is said to have received a sum of money, sometimes stated at 1,000
pounds and sometimes at 3,000 pounds, for consenting to suppress his
description of her as Atossa, which, none the less, he published. I do
not believe the story; money passed between the parties and went to Miss
Martha Blount, but it must have been for some other consideration. Sarah
Jennings was no fool, and loved money far too well to give it away
without security; and how possibly could she hope by a cash payment to
erase from the tablets of a poet's memo