The miscellany was a crucially important mode of literature in this period, and particular reasons for this are set out in an early segment of the chapter. This was also the case for Swift and for Curll, although it served very different purposes over the duration of their lives. In fact, Swift founded his career (especially as a poet) largely on his presence in miscellanies, a form in which much of Curll’s output lay. His Miscellanies (1711) made up the earliest collection of his writings, but it had to displace a smaller grouping that Curll had assembled in the previous year. Soon afterwards the bookseller embarked on a long series of similar items, including fresh raids on Swift’s oeuvre. The form proved well suited to Curll’s needs, most of all in his efforts to cover up the sources of his material. The various interactions of the two men in this mode are analysed, and a section devoted to the question raised by Stephen Karian as to whether Curll’s activity can reasonably be considered as literary piracy.

Chapter 6. Curll was responsible for up to forty self-standing biographies. His productions are compared with those of the major varieties of biography, ancient and modern. Typical subjects such as authors, physicians and politicians are identified, to illustrate the spread of his interests in the form. He produced works of collective biography, in the wake of writers such as the antiquarian John Le Neve (1679–1741). Eight frequent components are described, including official documents and wills. The second half of the chapter is devoted to a range of paratextual devices, as most notably described by Gérard Genette. Then come discussion of their aims, such as to convey an impression that this book is authoritative, up to date, objective, and full of novel content (it is rare for the books to achieve these goals to any great extent). Representative volumes are considered to demonstrate the limitations of Curll’s practice, in particular the more broken-backed items such as the life of the actor Robert Wilks (1732), memorably stripped apart in the Grub-street Journal.

This chapter starts from the well-known episode in which Pope supposedly spiked a glass of wine with an emetic in order to ‘poison’ Curll. This prompted one of Pope’s most hilarious works in prose, the short pamphlet entitled A Full and True Account of a Horrid and Barbarous Revenge by Poison, On the Body of Mr. Edmund Curll, Bookseller (1716). This was a parody of Curll’s numerous biographies of recently deceased celebrities with their will attached. The chapter looks at examples in earlier literature using the motif of lacing a drink as an act of revenge. A number of satiric writers are cited, beginning with Horace and Lucian. However, the most direct precedent involves Crispinus (‘curly’, from the Latin), the central character in Ben Jonson’s comedy Poetaster (1602). Succeeding passages consider the use Pope makes of these texts, pointing out that the need to vomit is regularly inflicted on bad writers. Pope departed from the tradition in having the draught delivered to a bookseller, suggestive of a change in the nature of print culture.

A chronologically ordered account of the different phases of Curll’s activities in the trade.

This chapter focusses on Curll’s relations with the civic affairs of London. It gives a brief survey of his admission to a guild and position as a liveryman of the Cordwainer’s Company, outside the powerful body of Stationers. Further, it outlines his behaviour over a number of years in City and national elections, from 1710 to 1734, noting his tendency to veer between votes for opposition parties and those for pro-ministerial candidates, depending on the political climate and his personal situation. His relations with Robert Walpole are sketched out. Comparisons are drawn between his actions and those of representative figures in the trade, especially those with whom Curll worked regularly. Where appropriate, the distinct voting patterns of Stationers and Cordwainers are noted. A conclusion summarises the changing political stance across the first four decades of the century, both of Curll himself and of members of the Stationers’ bloc.

Introduction. The Introduction sets out the aims of the book. No attempt has previously been made to investigate the detailed operations of any major figure as evidenced by his or her day-to-day practice. This is an effort to fill that gap by exploring the career of Edmund Curll, and to go beyond the mainly biographic treatment he has received so far. It describes how the succeeding pages seek to consider various aspects of Curll’s publications in the context of the London publishing industry as it then operated. An account is given of the content of various chapters, as this will be given in the abstracts below. Among topics briefly outlined are the range of Curll’s lists, his dealings with the law, his connections with contemporary authors (major and minor), with a review the most important scholarship on the condition of publishers in the eighteenth century.

This chapter seeks to triangulate three key figures in the world of books: Pope, the elite author; John Dennis, a writer in the middle ranks (though he aspired to a higher station, something that he has partially achieved in modern times as a critic); and Curll, the populist bookseller who did not know his place. The discussion follows the interweaving careers of this trio, as the story of their dealings confirms how central their role was in the battle of the books taking place before and after The Dunciad – a site where Dennis as author and Curll as publisher are made to stand for their respective professions. Each man was useful to the others in one way or another. His adversaries would take advantage of the resources of print culture to engage Pope where the literary, the religious, and the political routinely met. In this way, the critic and the publisher came to operate in a perverse synergy with the poet.

The central topic here is the entity known as ‘Grub Street’, referring to the milieu comprising figures in the book trade and to their output. Various ways of defining this term are outlined, including historical, sociological, topographical, national, legal, political, educational, technical, moral, and conceptual modes of approach. A brief comparison is made between English experience and the world of clandestine literature in France during the Enlightenment. The bookseller’s quarrels with Pope and Defoe are analysed, along with the notion of ‘Curlicism’, invented by Defoe and proudly adopted by Curll himself. A range of publishing stratagems and misleading devices are described to illustrate Curll’s practice. Two notable features are his proclivity for issuing wills of recently deceased figures of note; and his repeated insertion of ‘keys’ to scandalous materials he published on current celebrities.

Part III concerns the quarrel between Curll and Pope, which went on for almost thirty years, and raises significant issues, not just as it affected their careers, but also as it inflects the history of the book. These matters include the situation of both authors and publishers after the Copyright Act; the nature of piracy; the habit of (in effect) self-publishing that Pope acquired; the implications of anonymity, on both sides of the fence; the relations between elite and popular culture; and the literary portrayal of booksellers. Chapter 8 focusses on anonymity in the presentation of Pope’s poems and Curll’s publications. A brief introductory segment describes the historical valency of anonymous writing. The subsequent discussion traces a development that James McLaverty has characterised as ‘the blurring of authorship’, and shows how this is played out in The Dunciad and Curll’s responses to the work. Attention is given to other items by Pope that appeared anonymously or pseudonymously, together with attacks by Curll that constitute a reply in kind.

The topic under consideration is Curll’s deployment of imprints, among the most important tools of his trade. He found it acceptable on many occasions to follow the conventional forms, along the lines of ‘London: printed for E. Curll, at the Dial and Bible against St. Dunstan’s Church in Fleet-street.’ However, there are many exceptions. This chapter discusses variant forms described by David Foxon. It itemises some cases where the imprint is incomplete or unreliable. They include, for example, works which have the same text but different names on the title-page; those in which Curll’s name appears and disappears in succeeding editions); and instances where a trade publisher such as James Roberts is found in the imprint on certain occasions, but is absent in others. Ways are described to identify Curll’s hand when his name is omitted. Along with comparatively innocent subterfuges, we find elsewhere what can be described as ‘false and misleading imprints’, a subject pioneered by Michael Treadwell.

This chapter describes ways in which Curll interacted with the book trade at large, and illustrates his methods as they relate to the common publishing practices then in operation. It is easier to spot the manner in which he differed from his colleagues than areas in which he resembled them. Under one crucial aspect, he never joined the mainstream: he was not a member of the Stationers’ Company, a fact whose implications underlie some of his publishing choices and his possible apprentices. In other respects, he went along with normal practices in the trade. Among other topics, attention is given to the scale of his output over time, pricing policies, his limited use of trade sales, his retail operations, some of his marketing strategies, and his legal problems, as compared with other booksellers. One section discusses his activities in co-publishing and his partnerships (longer or shorter) with figures such as Egbert Sanger, John Pemberton, and William Mears.