a dead,
insipid dissertation. The mode in which Pope has abridged the narrative
is one of many proofs that he only cared for characters in their broad
outline, and had either no perception of the subtler workings of the
mind, or no appreciation of them. If ever a reader masters the full
sense of an author it must be when he translates him, and yet Pope has
overlooked or rejected many of the happiest traits in Chaucer, and has
falsified others, to the invariable injury of the story, and sometimes
with a total disregard to consistency. Particular deficiencies are of
little moment in the midst of general excellence, but in the present
instance there is nothing to redeem the blots, and the narrative from
first to last is a pale and feeble reflection of the original.

Warton asserts, on the authority of Harte, that Fenton believed that the
version of the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, which appeared in
Lintot's Miscellany under the name of Betterton, was the work of Pope,
and Johnson adds that "Fenton made Pope a gay offer of five pounds if he
would show the characters in Betterton's hand." The celebrated actor
certainly left some literary papers behind him, if we may assume that a
letter from Caryll to Pope, and which was published by the poet himself,
is a genuine production. "I am very glad," Caryll writes, May 23, 1712,
"for the sake of the widow, and for the credit of the deceased, that
Betterton's remains are fallen into such hands, as may render them
reputable to the one, and beneficial to the other." In a note Pope
states that the remains were the modernised portions of Chaucer
contained in the Miscellany of Lintot. There was no apparent motive for
deception on the subject, and the internal evidence supports the
conclusion that Betterton composed the translation, and that Pope merely
revised it. It is a bald, worthless production, with a few lines or
couplets which seem to have proceeded from a more practised versifier
than the novice who put together the bulk of the work. The choicest
parts are very little better than bad; for Pope was a provident poet,
and he did not decorate Betterton with feathers which would have shone
with lustre in his own plumage. The great actor, on his side, has
signally failed in the point where his art might have been expected to
teach him better. He who had such a deep insight into the characters he
personated, and who gave voice, action, and gesture to all the passions
with such fide