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OF PITTSBURGH
Dar.

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1819
v.2

IJBK \KIKS

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THE

LIVES
THE MOST

1MM31OT SM@MSH I?3^g^

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS

THEIR WORKS.

BY SAMUEL JOHNSON,
IN

THREE VOLUMES

VOL.

L.L. D.

II.

PHILADELPHIA:
PUBLISHED BY BENJAMIN C. BUZBY, No. 28, NORTH
THffiD STREET AND BENJAMIN WARNER, No. 171,
MARKET STREET.
;

1819,

CONTENTS

THE SECOND VOLUME.

Pag

Smith

Duke

30

King

32

*
-

37

Halifax

43

Parnell

Garth

Rowe

Sprat

Addison
Hughes
Sheffield,

Prior

duke

of-

Gay

Granville

131

137
145
170

185

205
-

.-..-.
-

Hammond

Somervile

48
52
57
69

Savage

Buckinghamshire,

Fenton

Tickell

Congreve
Blackmore

Yalden

214
226
235
240
246
250
253

V*l

EDMUND

SMITH

one of those lucky writers

is

much

labour, attained high reputa-

who

have, without

tion,

and who are mentioned with reverence rather

the possession than the exertion of

Of

his life

little

is

known

uncommon

and that

little

for

abilities.

claims no

what can be given to intellectual excellence

seldom employed to any virtuous purpose. His character, as given by Mr. Oldisworth with all the partiality of friendship, which is said by Dr. Burton to
praise but

shew, " what fine things one

man

of parts can say of

another," and which, however, comprises great part of

what can be known of Mr. Smith,

it is

scibe at once than to take by pieces.

such

little

better to tranI shall subjoin

memorials as accident has enabled

me

to

collect.

Mr. Edmund Smith was the only son of an eminent

merchant, one Mr. Neale, by a daughter of the famous
baron Lech mere. Some misfortunes of his father, which
were soon followed by
the son's

being

left

his death,

were the occasion of

very young in the hands of a near

relation (one who married Mr. Neale's sister) whose

name was Smith.
This gentleman and his lady treated him as their own
child, and put him to Westminister school under the

Vol.

II.

V\\
oYDr. cushy

care

SMITH.

and generous guardian

retained) he

whcncv,

after tT.e lots of his faithful

jiame

(ttfeose

was removed

lie

assumed and
Oxford,

to Clnist-clnrr< h in

and there by his aunt handsomely maintained

death

after

and ingenious society

learned

own; though, some time

his

member

which he continued a

within

till

till

of

her
that

years of

five

before his leaving Christ-

church, he was sent for by his mother to Worsccster,

and owned and acknowledged as her legitimate son

which had not been mentioned, but to wipe off the as-

persions that were ignorantly cast by

It

is

when
one

to
at

of

be remembered,

some on

Westminster electiou he stood

the

his birth.

our author's honour,

for

that,

a candidate for

he so signally distinguished

universities,

himself by his

conspicuous

arose no small

contention, between the representative

performances, that there

in Cambridge and ChristOxon, which of those two royal societies

But the electors of
should adopt him as their own.

elettors

church

of Trinity-college

in

Trinity-college having the

preference of choice that

year, they

resolutely elected

vited at the

same time

Mr

of a studentship there.
as acquired,

natural

seem

Horace's plan, who says,

"

him

who

to

have been formed upon

in his "

Rgo nee studium sine

"Altera poscitopeni

res,

Art of Poetry."

divite vena,

&

coiijurut

a great

man.

tlteriua sic

amice

by nature with

and necessary qualifications which

accomplishment of

accept

Smith's perfections, as well

" Nic rede quid profit video ingenium

He was endowed

yet, being in-

to Christ-church, chose to

all

"

those excellent

arc previous to the

His

memory was

and tenacious, yet by a curioua felicity chiefly

blc of the finest inpressions

it

large

sus. cpti-

received from the best

SMITH.

authors he read, which

it

always preserved

their

in

primitive strength and amiable order.

fie" had a quickness of apprehension and vivacity of

understanding which easily took

most

physics.

piercing

his taste delicate, his

of expressing his
I

in

and surmounted the

and knotty parts of mathematics and metaHis wit was prompt and flowing, yet solid and

subtile

head clear, and his way

thoughts perspicuous and engaging.

shall say nothing of his person,

turned, that

which yet was so well

no neglect of himself

could

in his dress

insomuch that the fair sex, who

observed and esteemed him, at once commended and
reproved him by the name of the handsome sloven. An
render

disagreeable

it

eager but generous and noble emulation grew up with

him which
ed him upon
;

(as

it

were a

make him

that could

a credit to his college,

college the ornament

university

rational sort of instinct)

push-

striving to excel in every art and science

and

was

it

and that

most learned and polite

happiness to have several

of the
his

contemporaries and fellow -students

excited this virtue in themselves

who

becoming so deservedly in favour with

good a proof of its nice discernment.
naturally good, soon ripened

into

exercised and

and others, thereby

this

age

and so

His judgment,

an exquisite fineness

and distinguishing sagacity, which, as

it

was active and

was vigorous and manly, keeping even paces

with a rich and strgng imagination, always upon the
Hence it was that,
wing, and never tired with aspiring.

busy, so

it

though he writ as young as Cowley, he had no puerilities

and his earliest productions were so far from
;

having any thing

in

them mean and trifling, that, like

Mr. Stepney, they may make
There are many of his first essays

the junior compositions of

grey authors blush.

in

oratory, in epigram, elegy, and epique,

about the university

in

still

handed

manuscript, which shew a mas-

SMITH.

8
terly

hand

though maimed and injured by

arvl

fix

quern transcribing, make ihcir way into our most cele-

uncommon

brated miscellanies, where they shine with

Besides those verses

lustre.

Oxford books which

in the

setting his name to, several of

is
came abroad under other names, which

he could not help

compositions
his

own

1 1

singular modesty and faithful silence strove in

The

vain to conceal.

Encaenia and public collections of

the university upon state subjects were never in such

esteem, either for elegy and congratulation, as when he

them and it was

way of writing

contributed most largely to

who knew

for those

to his share in the work, as by far the

As

part of the entertainment.

dinary, so he well

knew how

to

the greatest part of his

were extraor-

improve them

Though

and durable metal.

to turn

most relishing

his parts

only to polish the diamond, but enchase

solid

natural

his peculiar

it

and not

most

in the

he was an academic

yet he contracted no sour-

life,

ness of temper, no spice of pedantry, no itch of disputation, or

obstinate contention for the old or

new

philo-

sophy, no assuming way of dictating to others, which

some are

are faults (though excusable) which

bly led into

who

the walls of a

and

pleasant

private college.
instructive

Plotius, Varius,

insensi-

are constrained to dwell long within

and

His conversation was

what

Horace

of

said

and Virgil, might justly be applied

to

him.

Nil

ego contulerim jucundo samis Amini."

S.n. v.

As

correct a

pieces,

writer as he

was

in his

1.

most elaborate

he read the works of others with candour, and

reserved his greatest seventy for

his

own compositions

being readier to cherish and advance than

press a

I.

rising

damp

or de-

genius, and as patient of being excelled

SMITH,,
himself

(if

any could excel him) as industrious to excel

others.

'Twere

be wished he had confined himself

to

who was

particular profession

any

want of application was

but, in this, his

measure owing

He

to a

capable of surpassing in
in a great

want of due encouragement.

to his

passed through the exercises of the college and

university with unusual applause

suffered his friends to call

him

off

and though he often

from his retirements,

and to lengthen out those jovial avocations, yet

turn to his studies was so

much

the

more

re-

his

passionate,

and his intention upon those refined pleasures of reading and thinking so vehement (to which his Facetious

and unbended intervals bore no proportion) that the

habit

grew upon him, and the series of meditation and

being kept up whole weeks together, he

reflection

could better sort his ideas, and take

of a science

at

Some

fusion.

in

the sundry parts

one view, without interruption or conindeed of his

acquaintance,

who wers

pleased to distinguish between the wit and the scholar,

extolled

him altogether on the account

who knew him

but others,

better,

doing him justice as a prodigy

in

of these titles

could not forbear

He

both kinds.

had

signalized himself, in the schools, as a philosopher and

polemic of extensive knowledge and deep penetration;

and went through

all

the courses with a wise regard to

the dignity and importance of each science.

ber him

in the Divinity-school

with a perspicuous

commanding
disinterested

reputation as

mies,

who

remem-

energy, a ready exactness, and

force of

thily presided in the

responding and disputing

argument when Dr. Jane wor-

chair; whose condescending and

commendation

of

him gave him such

silenced the envious malice of his ene-

durst not

contradict the approbation of so

profound a master in theology.

a 2

None

of those

self-

10

SMITH.

who have

sufficient creatures

sophy, by atten
it

it,

or have

encumbered

with novel terms and burdensome explanations, un-

derstood

weight and

real

its

Mr. Smith. He was

racter of

some
to

either trifled with philo-

;iting to ridicule

purity

half so

well

as

too discerning to allow of the cha-

unprofitable,

rugged, and abstruse, which

very smooth and polite as

superficial sciolists (so

admit of no impresssion) either out of an unthinking

indolence or en ill-grounded prejudice had affixed to

He knew

this sort of studies.

the thorny terms of phi-

losophy served well to fence in the true doctrines of

religion
and looked upon school-divinity as upon a
rough but well-wrought armour, which might at once
;

adorn and defend the Christian hero, and equip him for
the combat.

Mr. Smith had a long and prefect intimacy with all

Greek and Latin classics with which he had carefully compared whatever was worth perusing in the
French, Spanish, and Italian (to which languages he
was no stranger) and in all the celebrated writers of
his own country.
I3v.it then,
according to the curious

the

observation of the late carl, of Shaftesbury,

poet

in

awe by regular

ried the

two

arts for their

There was

ment.

diligently
;

examined,

formities.

By

lie

kept the

were, mar-

fr

in

Aristotle

so that, having each rule

constantly before him, he could

every poem, and

it

mutual support and improveupon that Subject

lledtlin and BossU

to

and, as

not a tract of credit

which he had not

down

criticism

carry

the.

art

through

once point out the graces and de-

at

this

means he seemed

to

read with a

design to correct as well as imitate.

Being thus prepared, he could not but taste every

delicacy that was set before him
though it was

little

impossible for him

d

with

any

at

the

same time

thing but what

to

was

be fed and nousubstantial

and

SMITH.

He

lasting.

Ii

considered the ancients and moderns not

as parties or rivals for fame, but as architects

and the same plan, the art of poetry

upon one

according to

which he judged, approved, and blamed, without

tery or detraction.

If

compositions of others,

he did not always

it

was not

flat*

commend

ill-nature

the

(which was

would not let him

measure, and so
many couplets, by the name of poetry he was of Ben
Johnson's opinion, who could not admire

not in his temper) but strict justice

call a

few flowers set

in ranks, a

glib

Verses

as

smooth and

soft as

cream,

In which there was neither depth nor stream.

And

therefore,

though

his

want of complaisance

for

some men's overbearing vanity made him enemies, yet

the better part of mankind were obliged by the freedom
of his reflections.

His Bodlean speech, though taken from a remote

and imperfect copy, hath shewn the world how great
a master lie was of the Cicetonean eloquence, mixed
with the conciseness and force of Demostheness, the
elegant and

moving turns of

Avise reflections

Since

Horace

Pliny, and the acute and

of Tacitus.

Temple and Roscommon, no man understood

better, especially as to

his

happy

diction, roll-

ing numbers, beautiful imagery, and alternate mixture

of the soft and the sublime. This endeared Dr. Hanne's

odes to him, the finest genius for Latin lyric since the

Augustan age.

His friend Mr. Philips's ode

to

Mr

St.

John

(late lord

ace's

Lusory or Amatorean odes, is certainly a master

but Mr. Smith's Pocockius is of the sublimer
;

piece

Bolingbroke) after the manner of Hor-

kind, though, like Waller's writings

well,

it

upon Oliver Crom-

wants not the most delicate and surprising turns

peculiar to the person praised.

do not remember

to

SWTfi
have seen any thing like

made some

it

in

who

ha<i

He

was

and so good a

his-

Dr. Bathurat,*

attempts this way with applause.

an excellent judge of humanity

torian, that in familiar discourse

most memorable

would

lie

antiquity, the

facts in

talk over the

actions,

lives,

and characters of celebrated men, with amazing

ty

As he had thoroughly read and

and accuracy.

facili-

digest-

to copy after him

was so well known and allow-

ed Thuanus's works, so he was able

and

his talent in this kind

ed that he had been singled out by some great

write a history which

was their

il

interest to

men

to

have done

with the utmost art and dexterity.

I

shall not

mention for what reasons

dropped, though they are very

The

honour.

truth

is

and

nesses, whilst an agreeable

much

speak

it

design was
Mr. Smith's

this

to

before living wit-

company could

fix

him up-

on a subject of useful literature nobody shone to greater advantage he seemed to be that Memius whom Lu;

cretius speaks of:

Qucm

tu dca, tempore in omni

Omnibus ornatum volusiti excellere rebus.

His works are not many, and those scattered up and

down

in

miscellanies and collections, being wrested

from him by

his friends with great difficulty

them together make but

All of

tance.

of that

much

possession of

greater body Which

and relucsmall

part

dispersed in the

lies

numerous acquaintance

and cannot per-

haps be made eiuirc, without great injustice to him,

because few of them had his ist hand, and the trans1

criber was often obliged to take the

!)r

Ralph

publwhcd

Itathurst,

in 1761,

whose

by Mr.

life

and

lib<.

rties of a friend.

literary

Thomas Warton

remains wherr

SMITH.
His condolence

for the

15

death of Mr. Philips

is

of

full

the noblest beauties, and hath done justice to the ashes

of that second Milton, whose writings will last as long
as the English language, generosity, and valour.

him Mr. Smith had contracted

For

a perfect friendship

passion he was most susceptible

of,

and whose laws he

looked upon as sacred and inviolable.

Every subject
life,

that passed

under

pen had

his

all

proportion, and embellishments, bestowed on

the
it

which an exquisite skill, a warm imagination, and a cool

The epique,
judgment, possibly could bestow on it.
elegiac, every sort of poetry he touched upon,

lyric,

(and he touched upon a great variety) was raised to its

proper height, and the differences between each of

them observed with a judicious accuracy. We saw the

old rules and new beauties placed in admirable order
by each other
spirit of his

and there was a predominant fancy and

own

infused,

superior to what

some draw

from the ancients, or from poesies here and there

culled out of the moderns, by a painful industry and servile imitation. His contrivances were adroit and magnifi-

off

cent

his

images

and adequate

lively

his sentiments

his expressions natural and

charming and majestic
and that enabold his numbers various and sounding
melled mixture of classical wit, which without redun;

dance and affectation sparkled through his writings, and

were no less pertinent and agreeable.

His Phadra h a consummate tragedy, and the success of it was as great as the most sanguine expectaThe
tions of his friends could promise or foresee.
number of nights, and the common method of filling
the house, are not always the surest marks of judging
.

what encouragement a play meets with

rosity of all the persons of a

but the gene-

town
must not be

refined taste about

was remarkable on this occasion

and

it

SMITH

14

forgotten

how

with

terest,

zealously
the

all

Mr. Addison espoused his injudgment and diffusive

elegant

good-nature for which that

and author

is

Mr.

Smith's

Rome

mankind.

l>v

made

P/iadra, she has certainly

cither in

accomplished

so justly valued

gentleman

But as

to

under

finer figure

conduct upon the English stage, than

or Athens; and if she excels the (Ireek

and Latin P/iadra,

need not say she surpasses the

French one, though embellished with whatever regular

and moving softness Racine himself could give

bcan'.ics

her.

No man

had a juster notion of the difficulty of com-

posing than

Mr

Smith

and

sometimes

would

he

create greater difficulties than he had reason to appre-

Writing with ease what (as Mr.

hend.

may be

speaks)

When

easily written,

he was writing upon

moved

subject, he

ously consider what Demosthenes,

Horace,

if

Wycherley

his indignation.

Homer,

would

would say upon that occasion, which

alive,

whetted him to exceed himself as well as others.

vertheless, he

subjects he

seri-

Virgil, or

Ne-

could not or would wot finish several

undertook

which may be imputed either

o the briskness of his fancy,

still

hunting after a new

matter, or to an occasional indolence, which spleen and

^assi'.ude

brought upon him, which, of

the world was least inclined to forgive.

ull

his

That

foibles,

this

was

owing to conceit or vanity, or a fulness of himself,

fraiity which has been imputed to uo less men than

not
a

because
Shftkapewc and IcMOB) is clear from hence
his
friends,
of
disposal
left
his
entire
he
works to the
aIiosc most rigorous censures he even courted and so;

licited,

dom
:

submitting

they took w

'-sanation

it

to their

animadversions and the free-

them with an unreserved and pruden'

SMITH.

15

have seen sketches and rough draughts of some

to be designed set out analytically ; wherein the

poems

and connexion, the images,

fable, structure,

incidents.,

moral, episodes, and a great variety of ornaments, were

and

so finely laid out, so well fitted to the rules of art,

squared so exactly to the precedents of the ancients,

that

have often looked on these poetical elements

men

with the same concern with which curious

affected at the sight

are

of the most entertaining remains

and ruins of an antique figure or building.

Those

frag-

ments of the learned, which some men have been so

proud of their pains in collecting, are useless rarities,
without form and without life, when compared with
these embryos, which wanted not spirit enough to pre-

them so that I cannot help thinking that if some

them were to come abroad they would be as highly

serve
of

valued by the poets as the skeches of Julio and Titian

are by the painters

though there

is

nothing

them

in

but a few outlines, as to the design and proportion.

must be confessed, that Mr. Smith had some dewhich those are most apt to remember who could imitate him in nothing else. His
freedom with himself drew severer acknowledgements
from him than all the malice he ever provoked was capable of advancing, and he did not scruple to give even
It

fects in his conduct,

his misfortunes

the

hard

name

world had half his good nature

would be

of faults
all

the

but

if

shady

the

parts

entirely struck out of his character.

man who, under

pointments, could make
truly valuable,

poverty, calamities, and disapso

must have

many
just

friends,

and those so

and noble ideas of the

passion of friendship, in the success of which

consisted

the greatest,

life.

knew very

if

not the only happiness of his

He

welt what was due to his birth, though for-

tune threw him short of

it

in

every other circumstance

BMITH.

lo

of

He

life.

avoided making any, though perhaps rea-

sonable, complaints of her dispensations, under which

he had honour enough

touching the

to be easy, without

to him at a
more durable reputation. He took care to
have no dealings with mankind in which he could not

favours she flung

way when offered

in his

price of a

be just

and he desired to be

at

no other expense in
merit, which was

his pretensions than that of intrinsic

he ever brought upon

the only burthen and reproach

He

his friends.

what

never yet \v translated

"

At
ed by

could say, as Horace did of himself,

Meo sum

his

coming

all

those

to

who

more courted by

pauper

in

xre."

man was more

surround-

really had or pretended

to wit, or

town, no

the great

men who

had then a power

and opportunity of encouraging arts and sciences, and

name

gave proofs of their fondness

for the

many

ever be remembered

their

instances,

which

will

Mr. Smith's character grew

glory.

Friends by intimacy, and

poscssions

>

out-went the

which had been conceived

Whatever quarrel
rity is their

of Patron in

upon

strongest
his

in

to

his

pre-

favour.

few sour creatures, whose obscu-

happiness,

may

possibly have to the

amidst a studied neglect and

age,

total disuse of all those

equipments,

eremonial attendenecs, fashionable

and

external recommendation, which are thought necessary

introductions into the grande mondc,
.is so

happy

as

still

to

this

the gay, the noble, and honourable, saw

excelled
all

ir.

wit and

other differences.

learning, they

Hence

it

how much he
him

easily forgave

was

quaintance and retirements were his

What Mr.

gentlemen

please; and whilst the rich

that

own

both his acfree

choice.

Prior observes upon a very great character

SMITH.
was true

of

17

him, that most of his faults brought

their

excuse with them.

Those who blamed him most understood him least,

being the custom of the vulgar to charge an excess
upon the most complaisant, and to form a character by
the morals of a lew, who have sometimes spoiled an
hour or two in good company. Where only fortune is
wanting to make a great name, that single exception
can never pass upon the best judges and most equitable observers of mankind
and when the time comes
it

for the

world to spare their

pity,

we may

justly enlarge

our demands upon them for their admiration.

Some few

years before his death, he had engaged

himself in several considerable undertakings

which he had prepared the world

things from him.

to

in

all

expect mighty

have seen about ten sheets of

his

English Pindar, which exceeded any thing of that kind

I could ever hope for in our own language.
He had

drawn out a plan of a tragedy of the Lady Jane Gray,

and had gone through several scenes of
could not well have bequeathed that

hands than where,

hear,

the bare mention of two

largest expectations,

and

it is

at

But he

it.

work

to better

present lodged

such names

is sufficient to

and

may justify the

make the town

an agreeable invitation.

His greatest and noblest undertaking was Longinus.

had finished an entire translation of the Sublime,
which he sent to the reverend Mr. Richard Parker, a

He

friend of his, late of

the

Merton College, an exact

Greek tongue, from whom

The French
valuable,

it

came

to

critic in

my

hands.

version of Monsieur Boileau, though truly

was

dition to this

far short of it.

He proposed a large adwork, of notes and observations of his own,

with an entire system of the Art of Poetry, in three

books, under the

Vol.

if.

titles

of Thought, Diction, and Figure,

BWTlL

18

saw the

of these perfect, and in a fair copy, in

last

which he shewed prodigious judgment and reading

and particularly had reformed the Art of Rhetoric, by
reducing that vast and confused heap of terms, with
which a long succession of pedants had encumbered
the world, to a very narrow compass, comprehending

was useful and ornamental

thai

all

upon

Under

in poetry.

each head and chapter, he intended to

make remarks

the ancients and moderns, the Greek, Latin,

all

French,

English*

Spanish, and Italian poets, and to

note their several beauties and defects.

What

remains of

loved him.

It

for

is left,

as

am

informed,

of worth and judgment,

who

cannot be supposed they would suppress

any thing that was

mory, and

works

his

men

hands of

the

in

but out of respect to his me-

his,

want of proper hands

to finish

what so

great a genius had begun.

Such

is

the declamation of Oldisworth, written while

his admiration

was yet

and therefore such

as,

fresh

and

his

kindness

warm

without any criminal purpose of

make the most of

much commend the per-

deceiving, shews a strong desire to

favourable truth.

all

The

formance.

praise

cannot
is

often indistinct, and the sen-

more pomp than use.

There is little, however, that can be contradicted, even
when a plainer tale comes to be told.

tences are loaded with words of

Neai.e, known by the name of Smith, was

Handlcy, the seat of the Lcchmcres, in Wor-

l'.DMVND

born

at

cestershire.

The

year of his birth

was educated

Ilr

at

is

uncertain.*

Westminster.

It

is

known

to

have been the practice of Dr. Busby to detain those

l'.\

di<

bit

rpitaph he appears to hare been 42 years okl when,

II.

^:y consequently born

in the

year

I6f>8.

EL

SMITH.
youth long

whom

at school of

est expectations.

he had formed the high-

Smith took

the 8th of July, 1696

19

master's degree on

his

he therefore was probably ad-

when we may sup-

mitted into the university in 1689,

pose him twenty years old.

His reputation

for literature in his college

was such

but the indecency and licentiousness

;
of his behavour drew upon him, Dec. 24, 1694, while
he was yet only bachelor, a public admonition, entered
as has

been told

upon record,

in

the effect

not known.

is

order to his expulsion.

At Oxford,

rious.

as

we

given to literary merit

sufficient

Of this reproof

He
all

was probably less notoknow, much will be for-

and of that he had exhibited

evidence by his excellent ode on the death of

who

the great Orientalist, Dr. Pocock,

died in

1691,

and whose praise must have been written by Smith

when he had been but two years

in the university.

This ode, which closed the second volume of the

some objections may

.Waste stngticancz, though perhaps

be made

position in that collection

equalled

it

with great
tion

its

among

felicity,

nor do

modern

the

images not

know where

writers.

It

to find

expresses,

classical in classical dic-

digressions and returns, have been deservedly

recommended by Trapp

He

by far the best Lyric com*.,

to its Latinity, is

as

models

for imitation.

had several imitations from Cowley

Testitur Bine tot sermo coloribus

Quot

tu,

Pococki, dissimilis tui

Orator effers, quot vicissim

Te rhemores

celebrare gaudent.

not commend the figure which makes the orapronounce the colours or give to colours memory

I will

tor

and delight.
lines

quote

it,

however, as an imitation of these

BMTB.

20

So many languages he had in store,

That only fame shall speak of him in more.

The

by which an old man, retaining the fire

compared to .Etna flaming through the
snow, which Smith has used with great pomp, is stolen
from Cowley, howerer little worth the labour of consimile,

of his youth,

is

veyance.

He

proceeded

that occasion,

As
for

not

to take his

Of the

July 8, 1696.

arts,

have not heard any thing memorable.

his years

degree of master of

exercises which he performed on

advanced, he advanced in reputation

he continued to cultivate his mind, though he did

amend

much

his

irregularities

by which he gave so

offence, that, April 24, 1700, the dean and chap-

ter declared " the place of

Mr

Smith

been convicted of riotous behaviour

void, he having

in

the

house of

Mr. Cole, an apothecary but it was referred to the

dean when and upon what occasion the sentence should
;

be put into execution."

Thus

'

tenderly was he treated

the governors of his

college could hardly keep him, and yet wished that he

would not force them

Some
decency

to drive

him away.

time afterwards he assumed an appearance of

;

in his

own

phrase, he whitened himself, hav-

ing a desire to obtain the

censorship, an office of ho-

nour and some profit in the college ; bin, When the

lection came, the preference was given to Mr. I'milkes.
i

his
1

ri

junior

the

same,

suppose, that joined with

Demosthenes. The cenwas not thought proper to trust

ind in an edition of part of

ts

a tutor

and

it

the superintendence of other* to a

man who took

so

little

Care of himself.

lime Smith employed his malice and his

against the detn, Dr. Aldrich, whom he considered

it

this

SMITH.

$*

Of

as the opponent of his claim.

him,

once heard a single

line

his

two gross

lampoon upon
to

be repeated.

But he was still a genius and a scholar, and Oxford

was unwilling to lose him he was endured, with all
:

his

pranks and his vices, two years longer

20, 1705, at the instance of

all

but on Dec.

the canons, the sentence

declared five years before was put in execution.

The
one of
life,

execution was,
his friends,

appeared not

He was now

I believe, silent

from
to

whom

know

and tender

learned

much

for

of his

it.

driven to London, where he associated

himself with the whigs, whether because they were in

power, or because the tories had expelled him, or because he was a whig by principle, may perhaps be

He

doubted.

by the

was, however, caressed by

men

of great

whatever were their party, and was supported

abilities,

who

liberality of those

delighted in his conver-

sation.

There was once

a design, hinted at

have made him useful.

One

by Oldisworth,

to

evening, as he was sitting

down by the
some time below, came up

with a -friend at a tavern, he was called

waiter

and, having staid

thoughtful.
that

was

wanted
to tell

After a pause, said he to his friend, " He

me below was Addison, whose business
me that a History of the Revolution was

intended, and to propose that I should undertake

I said,

What

Sunderland
4

shall I

and

?'

it,

do with the character of lord

Addison

immediately

When, Rag, were you drunk last?'

Cafitain Rag was a name which he

l-eturned,

and went away."

got at Oxford by

his negligence of dress.

This

story, I

heard from the

whom

late

Mr. Clark of Lin-

was told by the friend of Smith.

Such scruples might debar him from some profitable

coln's Inn, to

employments

it

but, as they could not deprive

b2

him

of

SMITH.
any real esteem, ihey

man was
who,

him many

left

only.

critics,

tirely to his merit,

dif-

cri-

Smith had indeed trusted en-

had ensured no band of applaudcrs,

artifice to force

success, and found

native excellence was not sufficient for

play, however,

vanced the price from

;

take

and the

was, as Addison has recorded, hardly

It

nor used any

now and then

will

His play pleased the

heard the third nigh.

to sixty

and no

wits on either side.

first

But learning and nature

ferent courses.

The

of parties, had a prologue

in that violent conflict

and epilogue from the

tics

friends

ever better introduced to the theatre than he,

its

own

that

support.

was bought by Lintot, who adfifty

guineas, the current rate,

and Halifax, the general patron, accepted the

Smith's indolence kept him from writing

dedication.

the dedication,

till

Lintot, after fruitless importunity,

gave notice that he would publish the play without it,

Now, therefore, it was written and Halifax expected
;

the author with his book, and hud prepared to reward

him with

place of three

pounds a-year.

hundred

Smith, by pride, or caprice, or indolence, or bashfulncss, neglected to attend him, though doubtless warned

and pressed by his friends, and

ward by not g"ing to solicit it.

Addison has,

in the

at

missed his re-

last

Spectator, mentioned the neglect

of Smith's tragedy as disgraceful to the nation, and

imputes it to the fondness for operas then prevailing.

The

authority of Addison

people,
bet

when

ves regard.

people

is

great

to please the people

yet the voice of the

is

the purpose, de-

In this question,

cannot but think the

The

is

mythological, a story

in the right.

fable

which we are accustomed to reject as false and the

manners arc so distant from our own, that we knew
them not from sympathy, but by study the ignorant do
;

not understand the action

the learned

eject

it

as a

SMITH.
school-boy's tale

moment
are

removed

What

incredulus odi.

believe, I cannot for a

cannot for a

moment behold

The senuments

interest or anxiety.
life

-2S

with

thus remote from

yet further by the diction, which

is

too

luxuriant and splendid for dialogue, and envelopes the

thoughts rather than displays them.

play, such as

spectator

may

the

work of a vigourous and elegant mind,

own conceptions,

accustomed

to please itself with its

but of

acquaintance with the course of

little

Dennis

scholar's

It is a

please the reader rather than the

tells us, in

one of

his pieces, that

life.

he had once

a design to have written the tragedy of Phcedra

was convinced

that the action

In 1709, a year after

but

was too mythological.

the

exhibition

of

Phaedra

died John Philips, the friend and fellow-collegian of

Smith,

who on

justice

must place among the

that ocasion, wrote a

poem, which
which our

best elegies

language can shew, an elegant mixture of fondness and

admiration, of dignity and softness.

passages too ludicrous

but every

There

are

some

human performance

iias its faults.

This elegy

it

was the mode among

purchase for a guinea

his friends to

and, as his acquaintance was

numerous, it was a very profitable poem.

Of his Pindar mentioned by Oldisworth,
otherwise heard.

ny with some

His Longinus he intended

illustrations,

have never
to

acompa-

and had selected his instan-

ces of the false sublime from the works of Blackmore.

He

resolved to try again the fortune of the stage,

with the story of lady Jane Grey.

It is

not unlikely that

his experience of the inefficacy and incredibility of a

mythological tale might determine him to choose an

action from the English history, at no great distance

from our own times, which was

to end in a real event,

produced by the operation of known characters.

SMITH.

24

subject will not easily occur that can give

more

opportunities of informing the understanding, for which

Mr. Smith was unquestionably

the passions, in which

qualified, or for

moving

suspect him to have had less

power.

Having formed

his plan

and collected materials, he

declared that a few months would complete his design

and, that he might pursue his

work with

less

frequent

Mr. George
Wiltshire.
Here

avocations, he was, in June, 1710, invited by

Ducket

to his

house

at

Gartham,

in

he found such opportunities of indulgence as did not

much

forward his studies, and particularly some strong

He

be resisted.

ale, too delicious to

ate and drank

till

and then, resolving to

ease himself by evacuation, he wrote to an apothe-

he found himself plethoric

cary in the neighbourhood a prescription of a purge so

forcible, that the apothecary
it till

thought

he had given notice of

its

his

duty to delay

danger.

Smith, not

it

pleased with the contradiction of a shopman, and boast-

own know

ful of his

lege, treated the notice with

rude

contempt, and swallowed his own medicine, which,

July, 1710, brought
at

him

to the grave.

He

in

was buried

Gartham.

Many

years afterwards,

Oldmixon

Ducket communicated

to

the historian, an account pretended to have

been received from Smith, that Clarendon's history

was, in

its

publication, corrupted by

and Atterbury

A Id rich, Smalridge,

and that Smith was employed

to forge

and insert the alterations.

This story was published triumphantly by Oldmixon,

may be supposed to have been eagerly received

and
but

its

progress was soon checked

into the journal of

Tu-voux,

it

fell

Atterbury, then an exile in France,

for finding its

way

under the eye of

who immediately

denied the charge, with this remarkable particular,

that

he never

in

his

whole

life

had once spoken to

SMITH,
Smith

;*

his

2a

company being, as must be inferred, not

who attended to their characters.

accepted by those

The charge was

afterwards very diligently refuted by

man eminent

Dr. Burton, of Eton, a

for literature

and,

though not of the same party with Aldrich and Atterbury, too studious of truth to leave them burthened

The

with a false charge.

testimonies which he has

mankind

collected have convinced

that either

Smith or

Ducket, was guilty of wilful and malicious falsehood.

This controversy brought into view those parts of
Smith's

life

which, with more honour to his name, might

have been concealed.

Of Smith

can yet say a

of such estimation

among

sual censures or praises

sation

were considered,

little

more.

He

was

man

companions, that the ca-

his

which he dropped

in

conver-

wor-

like those of Scaliger, as

thy of preservation.

He had great readiness and exactness of criticism,

and by a cursory glance over a new composition would
exactly

tell all its faults

He was

remarkable

great rapidity, and

what he so

He

the

power of reading with

of retaining, with great

fidelity,

easily collected.

therefore always

required

and beauties.
for

and,

when

knew what

the present question

his friends expressed their

der at his acquisitions,

made

negligence and drunkenness,

in

he>

state

won-

of apparent

never discovered

his

hours of reading or method of study, but involved himself in affected silence,

and fed

his

own

vanity with

their admiration.

"* See Bishop Atterbury's " Epistolary correspondence," 1799,

III. p. 126. 133.
In the same work, vol. I. p. 325, it appears that Smith was at one time suspected by Atterbury to
have been the author of the " Tale of a Tub ."
N.
Vol.

SMITH.

36

One

practice he had, which was easily observed

any thought or image was presented to

mind

his

he could use or improve, he did not suffer

ii

if

lost

warmth of

but, amidst the jolity of a tavern, or in the

conversation, very diligently committed

be

to

it

that

to paper.

Thus it was that he had gathered two quires of hints

for his new tragedy
of winch Rowe, when they were
;

put into his hands, could make, as he says, very

little

which the collector considered as a valuable

use, but

stock of materials.

When

he came to London, his way of

him with

the licentious and dissolute

man

the airs anil gaiety of a

was always
about him

deficient

life

connected

and he affected

of pleasure

but his dress

scholastic cloudiness

still

hung

and his merriment was sure to produce the

scorn of his companions.

With

carelessness and

all his

one of the murmerers

to

and preferred

nor would a very

for

vices,

he was

why

and wondered

be poor, when Addison was caressed

he was suffered

him

his

all

at fortune

he estimated his wants

have contented

little

at six

hundred pounds

a year.
In his course of reading,

it

was particular

diligently perused, and accurately

that he

had

remembered, the old

romances of knight-errantry.

He

had a high opinion of

something contemptuous

whom

his

in

his

own

merit,

treatment

and was
of

those

he considered as not qualified to oppose or con-

He

tradict him.

had man)

frailties

yet

it

cannot but

be supposed that he had great merit, who could obtain

to the

same

play a prologue from Addison and an epi-

logue from Prior; and

who could have

at

once the pa-

tronage of Halifax, and the praise of Oldisworth.

For the power of communicating these minute memorials,

am

indebted to

my

conversation with Gilbert

SMTH.
Walmsley,

27

registrar of the ecclesiastical court of

late

who was

acquainted both with Smith and

Ducket; and declared, that, if the tale concerning Clarendon were forged, he should suspect Ducket of the
falsehood " for Rag was a man of great veracity."
Of Gilbert Walmsley, thus presented to my mind,
let me indulge myself in the rememberance. I knew
him very early he was one of the first friends that
literature procured me, and I hope that at least my graLitchfield,

made me worthy of his notice.

was of an advanced age, and I was only not a boy

titude

He

my notions

yet he never received

was a whig, with

his party
apart. I

He
tion

the virulence and malevolence of

all

yet difference of opinion did not keep us

honoured him, and he endured me.

had mingled with the gay world, without exemp-

from

its

vices or

its follies,

mind

the cultivation of his

unshaken

grew

his learning

but had never neglected

preserved his principles

man

of equal knowledge.

with books was great

know, he could
his

he

regular, and then pious.

first

name

was

his belief of revelation

His 6tudies had been so various, that

to

He

with contempt.

am

not able

His acquaintance

and what he did not immediately

at least tell

where

to find.

Such was

amplitude of learning, and such his copiousness of

communication, that

now

it

may be doubted whether

passes in which I have not

a day

some advantage from

his friendship.

At

I enjoyed many cheerful and incompanions such as are not often

found with one who has lengthened and one who has
gladdened life with Dr. James, whose skill in phy-

this

man's table

structive hours, with

;

be long remembered, and with David Garrick,

sic will

whom
our

hoped

common

to

have gratified with this character of

friend

but what are the hopes of

man

SMITH.

**

am

disappointed by that stroke of death which has

gaiety of nations and

eclipsed the

impoverished the

public stock, of harmless pleasure.

In the library

at

Oxford

Analysis of Pocockiu*

is

following ludicrous

the

EX AL'TOGRAPIIO.
[Sent by the author to Mr. Urry.

Oplscilum

hoc, Halbcrdarie

profcrre hactcnus
tus mngjs

quam

amplissime, in luccm

distuli, judicii

bipt- nnis.

tui

Tandem

acumen

subveri-

aliquando oden banc

ad temitto sublimcm, tcneram, flebilem, suavem, quademum divinus (si Musis vacaret) scripsisset Gas-

lem

trellus: adeo scilicet

sublimem

mile, adeo flebilem ut ridcrc

ut melius inspicns, versanti)
viter referam.

2dus

tatis.

Sc

ordinem

materiam bre-

Sc

decan-

praeliis

3us de Lotharingio, cuniculis subterraSc

Asia. 4tus

&

uncis, draconibus, tigribus,

6us, 7us, 8us, 9u8, de

iis.

velis.

Imus versus de duobus

neis saxis, ponto, hostibus,

tenis, subdibus,

legendum dorCujus elegantiam

ut inter

5tus de caSc

crocodi-

Gomorrha, dc Rabylone, Ba-

Sc quodam domi suce pcrcgrino. 10ns, aliquid dc

quodam Pocockio. 11 us, 12us, de Syria, Sol vma. 13us,
14us, de Hosca, & (|iierc\i, Sc dejuvene quodam valdc
sene. I5us, I6us, de ^Etna, Sc quomodo Tl'ltna Pocockio

bele,

sit

valde

imilis.

flammis,

rotis,

Nestore,

anno

umbra,

astro,

Caetcra

de

Cacsare

Sc

de
gra-

l''lacco y *

miserando juvenis cujusdam florentissimi

8c

aetatis suae

Quae omnia
IVo

de tuba,

non mglccto.

agrorum melancholia

vissima

7us, 18us,

Ottomanis, Babyloniis, Arabibus,

Christianis,

fato,

Pocockio

cum

Flacco,

centcsimo

prxmature

abrcpti.

accurate expendcris, ncrcssc

animo puulo

allent'mrc, scrips

st

cut

Marone,

SMITH.

29

oden hanc raeam admiranda plane varietate constare

tearis.

nandus.

Subito ad Batavos proficiscor, lauro ab

iilis

fa-

do-

Prius vero Pembrochienses voco ad cartamen

Poeticum.

Vale.

Illustrissima tua deoscular crura.

E.

Vol.

II.

SMITH,

DUKE.

Ol

Mr.

rials.

RICHARD DUKE

He was

memo

can find few

bred at Westminster* and Cambridge

and Jacob relates, that he was some time tutor to the

Duke

He

of

Richmond.

appears from his writings to have been not

qualified for poetical compositions

ous of his powers, when he

listed

among the wits. He was

Otway and was engaged, among
;

names,

With

other popu-

Ovid and Juvenal. In

are some vigorous lines.

Review, though unfinished,

His poems are not below mediocrity
in

the familiar

in the translations of

his

much

he en-

the university,

left

them

to

nor have

the wit he
;

seems to have shared the

for

some

dissolute-

of his compositions are

such as he must have reviewed with detestation

He was

admitted there in 1670

College, Cambridge, in 1675

1682.

and took

was elected
his master's

They make

a part of a volume published by

Duke

poems

of the Earl of

to Trinity

degree

in

Tonson

in

of Buckingham's Essay on

Hoscommon and

Poetry; but

published in Dryden's MiscellaHy, as were most,

the

in his

N.

8vo. 1717, containing the

the

found

be praised.

ness of the times

ill

and being consci-

himself

friend of
lar

poems

in that collection.

II.

if

were
not

first

all

of

DUKE.
latter

31

when he published those Sermons which

days,

Felton has commended.

Perhaps, like some other foolish young men, he rather

talked than lived viciously, in an age

when he

that

would be thought a wit was afraid to say his prayers

and, whatever might have been bad in the first part of
his life, was surely condemned and reformed by his better judgment.
In 1683, being then Master of Arts and Fellow of
Trinity College, in Cambridge, he wrote a peom on
the marriage of the Lady Anne with George Prince of

Denmark,

He

then took

of Gloucester,

orders

became

;*

and, being

made prebendary

a proctor in convocation for that

church, and chaplain to queen Anne.

In

1710, he was, presented by the Bishop of

chester to

the wealthy living

of

Witney

in

Win-

Oxford-

which he enjoyed but a few months. On Febru1710-11, having returned from an entertainment, he was found dead the next morning.
His death
shire,

ary 10,

H mentioned
*

in Swift's Journal.

He was presented

shire

1688.

in
fi.

1687-8

to the rectory of Blaby in Leicesterand obtained a prebend at Gloucester in

KING.

VV ILLIAM KING was

:hc
to

born

in

London

in

He was

son of Ezekial King, a gentleman.

166o

allied

the family of Clarendon.

From Westminster-school, where he was

a scholar

on the foundation under the care of Dr. Busby, he was

eighteen elected

at

he

said

i:i

to

to

Christ-church,

in

1681; where

have prosecuted his studies with so

much

was eight years

standing he had read over, and made remarks upon,
tv-two thousand odd hundred books and manu'ntenseness and activity, that before he

scripts.*

The books were

manuscripts
large

for the

day

seven

very

not

calculator will

for

He

nor the remarks very

find that he

despatched

every day of his eight years

remnant that more than

a

certainly nut very long, the

difficult,

took his degree

in

grand com/iounder

with a

most other students.

the most expensive manner, as
satisfies

whence

it is

inferred that he in-

herited a considerable fortune.

same year in which he was made mashe published a confutation of Yarillas's ac-

In 1688, the
f

arts,

count of Wicklifle

and engaging

in the

study of the

This appears by his " Adversaria," printed iu his \u

edit 1776 3 vols

KING.
civil law,

became doctor

in 1692,

33

and was admitted ad-

vocate at Doctors commons.

He

had already made some

French, and

some

written

translations

humorous

pieces; wnen, in 1694, Molesworth

count of Denmark,
their

which he

in

satirical

published his Ac-

treats the

monarch with great contempt

from the

and

Danes and

and takes the op-

portunity of insinuating those wild principles, by which

he supposes liberty

be established, and by which

to

adversaries suspect that

ment

all

endangered.

is

This book offended prince George

and the Danish

minister presented a memorial against

ples of

The

The
laugh

confute part, and

to

princi-

at

the

now forgotten and books of

long, when interest and resent-

controversy

is

kind seldom live

this

it.

author did not please Dr. King; and there-

its

he undertook

fore
rest.

his

subordination and govern*

ment have ceased.

In 1697, he mingled in the controversy between
Boyle and Bentley and was one of those who tried what
;

wit could perform in opposition to learning, on a ques-

could decide.
him A Journey

tion whichearning only

In 1699, was published by

don, after the method of Dr. Martin Lister,

A Journey

published

to

sed the Royal Society,

Paris. And, in 1700, he

at

least

sir

president, in two dialogues, entitled

Though
civil

Lon-

to

who had
satiri-

Hans Sloane their

The Tranactioner.

he was a regular advocate

and canon law, he did not love

in

the courts of

his profession,

nor

indeed any kind of busioess which interrupted his voluptuary dreams, or forced him to

dulgence
tation

ments

by

as
in

rouse from that inwhich only he could find delight. His repua civilian was yet maintained by his judg-

in

the courts of delegates, and raised very high

the address and knowledge which

c 2

he discovered in

34

KING.

when he defended

1700,

sued

for a divorce,

The expense

of Anglesea

the earl

against

duchess of Buckinghamshire, who

his lady, afterwards

and obtained

it.

of his pleasures and neglect of business

had now lessened

his

revenues

and he was willing to

accept of a settlement in Ireland, where, about 1702

he was made judge of the admiralty, commissioner of

the

keeper of the records

prizes,

Birmingham's

in

tower, ~.id vicar-general to Dr. Marsh, the primate.

But

who

is

it

vain to put wealth

will not stretch out his

him
King soon

within the reach of

hand

to take

it.

found a friend, as idle and thoughtless as himself,

in

Upton, one of the judges, who had a pleasant house

Mountown, near Dublin,

called

ly retired

to

which King frequent'

delighting to neglect his interest, forget his

cares, and desert his duty.

Here he wrote Mully of Mountown. a poem by

which, thought fanciful readers in the pride of sagacity
;

have given

it

interpretation,

political

more than

was meant

ori-

was dictated
only by the author's delight in the quiet of Mountoivn.
In 1708, when lord Wharton was sent to govern Ire-

ginally no

land,

King returned

idleness and his

to

.lit

particularly

is

of low

title,

for

Horace

in

London, with

His Voyage

poem remarkable,

purity of sentiment

to the

and

Island of Ca-

then wrote The

notwithstanding
in

1709

its

imitated

710, he appeared as a lover of the church, on the

at least in

ami was supposed to have concur-

the projection of

eyes .were open to

atid

poverty, his

an Art of Cookery, which he published, with

side of Sacheverell

red

his

He

commended.

-oinc letters to Dr. Listc.

In

it

and published some essays, called

wit,

Useful Transactions.

jamai

expressed, as

it

all

the

The Examiner.

His

operations of whiggism

be bestowed some strictures

upon Dr. Kcnna'.

KING.

35

adulatory sermon at the funeral of the

duke of Devon-

shire.

The History of the Heathen Gods y a book composed

was written by him in 1710. The work is
useful, but might have been produced without the
powers of King. The next year, he published Refnus,
for schools,

a historical

essay

and a poem, intended to dispose

the nation to think as he thought of the

brough and

In 1711, competence,
to

He

power.

his

if

not plenty,

was again put

in-

was, without the trouble of atten-

dance, or the mortification of a request,

Swift, Freind, Prior,

and other

men

made

of the

brought him the key of the gazetteer's

now

duke of Marl-

his adherents.

gazetteer.

same

party,

He

office.

was

again placed in a profitable employment, and again

threw the benefit away.

An

act of insolvency

made

his

business at that time particularly troublesome; and he

would not wait

till

tiently resigned

it,

hurry should be at an end, but impa-

and returned to his wonted indigence

and amusements.

One
sided,

of his

was

to

amusements

at

Lambeth, where he

re-

mortify Dr. Tenison, the archbishop, by a

public festivity, on the surrender of

Dunkirk

to Hill

an event with which, Tenison 's political bigotry did not

suffer him to be delighted.
King was resolved to counteract his sullenness, and at the
rels of ale filled the

expense of a few bar-

neighbourhood with honest merri-

ment.
In the

weaker

Though

autumn
by
his

of 1712, his health declined

degrees,
life

and

died

on

he grew

Christmas-day.

had not been without irregularity,

principles were pure and orthodox, and his death

his

was

pious.

After this relation,

his

poems were

it

will

rather the

be naturally supposed that

amasements of

idleness than

KIKU

OS
efforts of study; that

than astonish
limity

be merry

he endeavoured rather to divert

if

his verse

attained what he
;

* Dr. Johnson appears

to think

to have

of Dr. King, prefixed to his "

winch

'hat at least

His purpose

he yielded to

it

is

may

well of his opinions.*

made but

little

Works,

3 vols." 1776, to

may not be impertinent to

humour ought to be praised

it

lent for

desired.

but, perhaps, to enjoy his mirth,

be sometimes necessary

life

seldom aspired to subwas easy and his images

that his thoughts

and that

familiar, he
to

in

use of the

refer the reader.

His

in the highest terms.

ni>* of his contemporaries.

C.

tsu

In

RA

S P

THOMAS SPRAT

T.

was born

in 1636, at Tallaton,

Devonshire, the son of a clergyman

in

and having

West-

been educated as he

tells

of himself, not at

minster or Eton, but a

littie

school by the church-yard

side,

became

ford in 1651

commoner

of

Wadham

College

ceeded through the usual academical course

1657,

in

Ox-

and, being chosen scholar next year, pro-

became master of

arts,

He

and

in

obtained a fellowship

and commenced poet.

In 1659, his

poem on

lished, with those of

the death of Oliver

Dryden and Waller.

was pubdedU

In his

cations to Dr. Wilkins, he appears a very willing

and

both of the living and the dead.

He

liberal ecomiast,

implores his patron's excuse of his verses, both as falling " so infinitely below the full and sublime genius

who made

of that excellent poet

free of

this

our nation," and being " so

way of writing
little

proportioned to the renown of a prince on

were written

equal and

whom

they

such great actions and lives deserving to

be the subject of the noblest pens and most divine fancies."

He

proceeds

"Having

so

long experienced

your care and indulgence, and been formed, as

by your own hands, not

my

to entitle

you

to

meanness produces would be not only

but sacrilege."

it

were,

any thing which

injustice,

SPRAT.

S8

He

poem on

published the same year, a

Athens

oj'

a subject of which

the plague

not easy

is

it

to say

what could recommend it. To these he added

wards a poem on Mr. Cowley's death.

after-

After the restoration he took orders, and by Cowley's

ecommendation was made chaplain to the duke of

Buckingham, whom he is said to have helped in wri-

He

ting the Rehearsal.

was likewise chaplain

to the

king.

As

he was the favourite of Wilkins,

whose house

at

began those philosophical conferences and inquiries

which

in

time produced the royal society, he was con-

sequently engaged in the same studies, and became

one of the fellows

and when, after their incorporation,

something seemed necessary

the

new

institution,

to reconcile the public to

he undertook

which he published 1667.

write

to

This

is

its

history,

one of the few

books which selection of sentiment and elegance of

diction have been able to preserve,

though written up-

on a subject flux and transitory.

The

royal society

is

now

history of the

read, not with a wish to

how

they were then doing, but

know what

their transactions

are

exhibited by Sprat.
in the next year he published observations on

voyage

dier's

into

work

England,

This

is

with

at least its full

In 1688, he

ill

in a

performed

Utter

but

to

Mr.

So-

ll'ren.

perhaps rewarded

proportion of praise.

poems, and
which be af-

published Cowley's Latin

prefixed in Latin the

life

of the author

terwards amplified, and placed before

glish works,

which were by

Lcclesiastical benifices

1668,

iic

became

will

now

He

fell fast

upon him.

In

prebendary of Westminster, and

bad afterwards the church of

to the abbey.

Cowley's Encommitted to bib care.

St.

Margaret, adjoining

was, in 1680, oiadc canon of Wjnd-

SPRAT.
sof

in 1683,

dean of Westminster

and in 1684, bish-

op of Rochester.

The

court having thus a claim to his diligence and

'gratitude, he

was required

to write the

history of the'

and in 1685, published a true account

and declaration of the horrid conspiracy against the late
rye-house plot

king,, his present majesty

and

the

present governmeut

a performance which he thought convenient, after the

revolution, to extenuate and excuse.

The same

year, being clerk of the closet to the king

he was made dean of the chapel-royal

and the year

afterwards, received the last proof of his master's con-

one of the commissioners

fidence, by being appointed

On

for ecclesiastical affairs.

the critical day

when

declaration distinguishes the true sops of the

of England, he stood neuter, and permitted

read at Westminster

concience

and,

the

church
it

to

be

but pressed none to violate his

when

bishop

the

brought before them, gave

of

London was

his voice in his favour.

Thus far he suffered interest or obedience to carry

him but further he refused to go. When he found
;

powers of the

that the

ecclesiastical

to be exercised against those

claration,

he wrote

commission were

who had

to the lords,

refused the de-

and other commission-

ers a formal profession of his unwillingness to exercise

that authority any longer, and

for six

letter,

they adjourned

months, and scarcely ever met afterwards.

When

king James was frighted away, and a

government was

who

withdrew himself from

After they had read his

them.

to

new

be settled, Sprat was one of those

considered, in a conference, the great question,

whether the crown was vacant, and manfully spoke in

favour of his old master.

He

complied, however, with the new establishment

and was

left

unmolested

but, in 1692, a Strange attack

40

SVll

\'l

was made upon him by one Robert Young and Stephen

men

Blackhead, both

convicted of infamous crimes,

and both, when the scheme was

laid,

prisoners in

These men drew up an association,

whose names were subscibed declared
gate.

tion to restore

Orange dead

men

in

New-

which they
resolu-

their

king James, to sieze the princess of

or alive, and to be ready, with thirty thou-

meet king James, when he should land.

To this they put the names of Sancroft, Sprat, Marlborough, Salisbury, and others.
The copy of Dr. Sprat's
name was obtained by a fictitious request, to which an
answer in his own hand was desired. His hand was copied so well, that he confessed it might have deceived
sand

himself.

to

Blackhead, who had carried the

and particularly importunate

to see the house,

let into

the study

to leave the

him

council

kept

where, as

at a

and

to

be

supposed, he designed

is

in a

fiower-pot in the parlour.

an information before

laid

May

it

being

Tins, however, was denied

association.

and he dropped

Young now

letter,

was very curious

sent again with a plausible message,

messenger's under a

the

privy

bishop was arrested, and

7, 1692, the

guard eleven days.

strict

His house was searched, and directions were given

that the flower-pots should be inspected.

gers, however, missed the

was

left.

The messen-

which the paper

where he had

left

it,

brought

it

and

away.

bishop, having been enlarged, was, on June the

10th and 13th,

cil

in

Blockhead went therefore a third time

finding his paper

The

room

examined again before the privy coun-

and confronted with

his

accusers.

Young

per-

most obdurate impudence, against the

strongest evidence but the resolution of Blackhead by
decrees gave way. There remained at last no doubt oi
the bishop'* innocence, who, with great prudence and
listed) witli the

diligence, trgced the progress and detected the charac-

SPRAT.
ters of the

his

41

two informers, and published an account of

which made
deliverance

own examination and

such an impression upon him, that he commemorated

it through life by a yearly day of thanksgiving.
With what hope, or what interest, the villains had
contrived ah accusation which they must
selves utterly unable to prove,

After

this,

his days in the quiet exercise

he passed

of his function.

When

know them-

was never discovered.

the cause of Sacheverell put

public in commotion, he honestly appeared

He

friends of the church.

year, and died

Burnet

is

May

20,

lived to

his

rivals.

in

ie

the

seventy-ninth

memory

On some

they both preached before the

There prevailed

3.

not very favourable to his

and Burnet were old

among

but he

public occasion

house

of

commons.

those days an indecent custom

when the preacher touched any favourite topic in a

manner that delighted his audience, their approbation
was expressed by a loud hum, continued in proportion
When Burnet preached, part
to their zeal or pleasure.
of his congregation

hummed

he sat down to enjoy

handkerchief.

it,

When

honoured with the

so loudly and so long, that

and rubbed his face with his

Sprat preached, he likewise was

like animating

hum

but he stretched

out his hand to the congregation, and cried, " peace

peace,

pray you peace."

was told in my youth by my father, an old

man, who had been no careless observer of the passThis

ages of those times.

Burnet's sermon, says Salmon, was remarkable for
sedition,

and Sprat's

of the house

for loyalty.

Burnet had the thanks

Sprat had no thanks, but a good living

from the king, which, he said, was of as much value as
;

the thanks of the

Vol.

II.

commons.

SPRAT.

42

The woiks of Sprat, besides his few poems, arc,

The History of the Royal Society, The Life of Cowley,
The Answer to Sorbierc, The History of the Rye-house
Plot, The Relation of his own Examination, and a volume

of Sermons.

have heard

it

observed, with great

of a different kind, and that

justness, that every

book

each has

and characteristical excellence.

My

its distinct

business

is

is

only with his poems.

He

considered

model and supposed that, as he was imiNothing, therefore

tated, perfection was approached.
but Pindaric liberty was to be expected. There is in
his few productions no want of such conceits as he
thought excellent; and of those our judgment may be

Cowley

by the first that appears in his praise of Cromwhere he says, that Cromwell's " fame, like man,
grow white as it grows old."

settled

well,
will

as a

HALIFAX.

XHE

life

of the earl of Halifax was properly that

of an artful and active statesmac, employed in balancing

parties, contriving expedients,
tion,

and exposed

and degradation
is

to

but in this collection, poetical merit

the claim to attention

here

to

and combating opposi-

the vicissitudes of advancement

be expected

may

and the account which

is

properly be proportioned not

to his influence in the state, but to his

rank among the

writers of verse.

Charles Montague was born April

ton, in

16,

1661, at Hor-

Northamptonshire, the son of Mr. George Mon-

tague, a younger son of the earl of Manchester.

He
was educated first in the country, and then removed to
Westminster, where, in 1677, he was chosen a king's
scholar, and
felicity in

recommended himself

extemporary epigrams.

to

Busby by

his

He contracted a very

Mr. Stepney and, in 1682,

when Stepney was elected at Cambridge, the election
of Montague being not to proceed rill the year follow-

intimate frendship with

he was afraid lest by being placed at Or-ford he

might be separated from his companion, and therefore
solicited to be removed to Cambridge, without waiting
ing,

for the advantages of another year.

It seems indeed time to wish for a removal
was already a school-boy of one and twenty.

for

he

HALIFAX.

44

His

relation,

Dr. Montague, was then master of the

was placed a fellow-commoner,

college in which he

and took him under his particular care.

menced an acquaintance with

continued through his
a legacy.

life,

the great

and was

Here he comNewton, which

at last

attested by

In 1685, his verses on the death of king Charles

made such

an impression on the carl of Dorset, that

he was invited to town, and introduced by that universal

patron to the other wits.

In

687, he joined with

Mouse and the Country Mouse, a

Dryden's Hind and Panther. lie signed

Prior in The City

burlesque of

the invitation to the PTincc of Orange, and sat in the

He

convention.

about

the

same time married the

countess dowager of Manchester, and intended to have

taken orders

purchased

but afterwards altering his purpose, he

for 1500/.

the place of one of the clerks of

the council.

After he had writton his epistle on the victory of the

Boync,

Dorset introduced him to king Wil-

his patron

liam, with this expression

'

Sir,

have brought a

on your majesty." To which the king is

said to have replied, " you do well to put me in the
way of making a Man of him;" and ordered him a

Mouse

to wait

pension of
current,

hundred pounds.

five

seems

to

have been

made

This

story,

however

after the event.

The

king's answer implies a greater acquaintance with our

proverbial and familiar diction than king William could
possibly have attained.

In 1691, being

argued warmly

member

in

of the house of

of counsel in trials for high treason

of his

speech

while silent
reasonable

il

commons, he

favour of a law to grant the assistance

falling into

some

and

in

the midst

confusion, was for a

but, recovering himself, observed "

was

to

allow counsel to

men

how

called as

HALIFAX.

45

criminals before a court of justice,

how much

cert one of their

After

being

when

it

appealed

the presence of that assembly could discon-

this

own body."*

he rose

made one

fast into

honours and employments,

of the commissioners of the treasury,

and called to the privy-council.

chancellor of the exchequer
in the great

In 1694, he

became

and the next year engaged

attempt of the re-coinage, which was

in

two years happily completed. In 1696, he projected the

general fund and raised the credit of the exchequer
,

and, after inquiry concerning a grant of Irish

crown-

was determined by a vote of the commons-,

Montague, esquire, had deserved his majesty's favour.
In 1698, being advanced to the first
commission of the treasury, he was appointed one of
lands,

it

that Charles

the regency in the king's absence

the next year he

was made auditor of the exchequer, and the year after

He was, however, impeached
created baron Halifax.
by the commons; but the articles were dismissed by
the lords*

At

the accession of queen

from the council

and in the

Anne he was dismissed

first

reign was again attacked by the

parliament of her

commons, and again

escaped by the protection of the lords.

In 1704 he

* Mr. Reed observes that this anecdote is related by Mr.

Walpole, in his Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, of* the
Earl of Shaftesbury, author of the Characteristics, but it appears to me to be a mistake, if we are to understand that the
words were spoken by Shaftesbury at this time, when he had
no seat in the house of commons nor did the bill pass at this
It became a
time, being thrown, out by the house of lords.
law in the 7th William, when Halifax and Shaftesbury both
had seats. The editors of the Blographia liritannica adopt
Mr. Walpole's story, but they are not speaking- of this period.
The story first appeared in the Life of Lo;\l Halifax, published
;

Or

17L5l)

HALIFAX.

46
wrote an
al

answer

conformity.

of the church.

to

Bromslcy's speech against occasu

He

headed the inquiry into the dangci

In 1706, he proposed and negotiated

the union with Scotland

and when the elector of Han-

over had received the gaiter, after the act had passed
for securing the protcstant succession, he

was appoint-

ed to carry the ensigns of' the order to the electoral

He

court.

sat as

one of the judges of Sacheverell

Being now no longer

voted for a mild sentence.

summoning

vour, he contrived to obtain a writ for

At

the queen's- death

made

and

earl of Halifax, knight

George the

of the

was

first

garter, and first

his

ne-

of the reversion of the auditorship of the ex-

More was

chequer.
;i

the

he was appointed one of the

at the accession of

commissioner of the treasury, with a grant to

phew

but

duke of Cambridge.

electoral prince to parliament as

regents

in fa-

while

little

for,

not to be had, and this he kept but

on the 19th of May, 1715, he died

of an inflammation of his lungs.

Of him who from

it

will

a poet

became

patron of poets,

be readily believed that the works would not miss

of celebration.

Addison began

to praise

him

was followed or accompanied by other poets

by almost
flatter

all,

him

early,
;

except Swift and Pope, who forbore to

in his life,

and after his death spoke of him,

Swift with slight censure, and

Pope

in the

character of

Bufo with acrimonious contempt.

He was, as Pope says, "fed with dedications;"
Tickeli affirms that no dedication was unrewarded.
charge
and

to

and

perhaps

for

To

unmerited praise with the guilt of flattery,

suppose that the encomiast always knows and

all

fexls the falsehoods of

his assertions, is

cover great ignorance of

human

surely to dis-

nature and

human

life.

In determinations depending not on rules, but on cxience and comparison,

judgment

is

always

in

some

HALIFAX.

47

degree subject to affection. Very near to admiration

is

the wish to admire.

Every man willingly gives value to the praise which

he receives, and considers the sentence passed in his
favour as the sentence of discernment.

We

admire in

a friend that understanding which selected us for confi-

dence

we admire more,

which, instead of

in a

scattering

patron, that,

judgment

bounty indiscriminately,

directed it to us ; and, if the patron be an author, those

performances which gratitude forbids us to blame, affection will easily dispose us to exalt.

To

these prejudices, hardly culpable, interest adds a

power always

operating, though not

not willingly, perceived.

of praise wears
and perhaps the pride of patronage
time so increased, that modest praise will no

gradually away

may

be

in

always, because

The modesty

longer please.

Many a blanishment was practised upon Halifax,

which he would never have known, had he no other attractions than those of his poetry, of which a short time
has withered the beauties. It would now be esteemed
no honour, by a contributor to the monthly bundles of
verses, to be told, that, in strains either familiar or so-

lemn, he sings like Montague.

FARNELL.

The

of

life

PARNELL

Dr.

written by Goldsmith a

and such

ers,

seemed

it

of such

variety of

that

which he was doing

the art of being minute without

without confusion

and general

has been lately

pow-

of performance, that he always

felicity

do best

to

who had

man

task which

is

should very willingly decline, since,

man

tcdiousness,

whose language was

copious without exuberance, exact without constraint,

and easy without weakness.

What
gain
tive
it

such an author has

told,

who would

a-

tell

have made an abstract from his larger narraand have this gratification from my attempt, that

gives

me

memory

an opportunity of paying due tribute to the

of Goldsmith.

yef yipecf tri 3*t7*"".

Thomas Parnell was the son of a commonwealthsman of the same name, who, at the restoration, left
Conglcton

in Cheshire*,

where the family had been

tablished for several centuries, and

purchased an

estate,

settling

which, with his lands

in
in

es-

Ireland,

Cheshire

descended to the poet,

who was born

and, after

education at a grammar-school,

tas

ut

the usual

in

Dublin

in

1679

the age of thirteen, admitted into the college,

PARNELL.

49

where in 1700, he became master of arts and was the

same year ordained a deacon, though under the canoni;

cal age,

by a dispenation from the bishop of Derry.

About three years afterwards he was made a

priest

and in 1705 Dr. Ashe, the bishop of Clogher, conferred

upon him the archdeaconry of Clogher. About the

same year he married Mrs. Anne Minchin, an amiable
lady,

by

whom

he had two sons,

who

died young, and a

daughter who long survived him.

At the

ejection of the whigs, in the end of queer*

Anne's reign, Parnell was persuaded

ty,

much

not without

new

sook, and was received by the

When

ble reinforcement.
that

change

to

whom

censure from those

his par-

he for-

ministry as a valua-

the earl of Oxford was told

Dr. Parnell waited among the crowd

in the outer

room, he went, by the persuasion of Swift, with his

treasurer's staff in his hand, to inquire for him, and to

bid

him welcome

and as

dedication, admitted

him

his convivial hours, but,

pened

may be
as

as

it

inferred from Pope's

a favourite companion to

seems often

to

have hap-

those times to the favourites of the great,

in

without attention to his fortune, which, however, was in

no great need of improvement.

who
make

Parnell,
sirous to

did not

want ambition or

vanity,

was de-

himself conspicuous, and to shew

how

worthy he was of high preferment. As he thought himself qualified to become a popular preacher, he displayed his elocution with
of London
his

expectations,

presents

him

ance of wine.

imputed

abated his diligence

That

in his latter life

bottle, is

to a cause

and Pope re-

from that time into intemper-

as falling

a lover of the
it

great success in the pulpits

but the queen's death putting an end to

not denied

more

he was too much

but

have heard

likely to obtain forgiveness

from mankind, the untimely death of a darling son

FARNELL.

50

as others tell, the loss of his wife,

or,

who

died (!"12)

midst of his expectations.

in the

He

was now

to derive

every future addition to hi*

preferments from his personal interest with

his private

He

and he was not long unregarded.

friends,

was

warmly recommended hy Swift to archbishop King,

who gave him a prebend in 1718.; and in May, 1716,
presented him to the vicarage of Finglass in the diocese
of Dublin, worth four hundred pounds a year.
Such
notice from such a man inclines me to believe, that the
vice of which he has been accused was not gross, or
not notorious.

But

prosperity did not

his

ever was

its

preferment

his

last long.

lis

now approaching.
more than a year

cause, was
little

end, what-

He

enjoyed

for

in July,

1717, in his thirty-eighth year, he died at Chester on

his

way

He

to Ireland.

seems

delight

have been one of those poets who take

He

contributed to the papers of

more than he owned.

many compositions behind him, of which Pope

time, and probably published

that

He

to

writing.

in

left

which

he thought best, and dedicated

selected

those

them

the earl of Oxford.

to

Of

given an opinion, and his criticism

He

contradict.

these Goldsmith baa

is

it

seldom

safe to

bestows just praise upon The Rise of

The Pervigilium VentrU ;

in The Battle of
Mice and Trog*, the Greek names have not in English
U'oman, the Fairy

tale,

and

but has very properly remarked, that

their original effect.

He
Beza
tions

tells us,
;

and,

translated

when he

is

borrowed from

discovers that

Cay Bacchus

from slugurellus, he ought to have

that the latter part

Jl'hen

The Book-Worm

that

but he should have added with modern applica-

sfiring

is

comes

purely Parnell's.
c,

is,

he

says,

i,

remarked

Another poem
taken from the

PARNELL.
French.

would add,

his verses

in

41

that the description of Barre?iness,

Pope, was borrowed from Secundus

to

but lately searching for the passage, which

had

for-

merly read, I could not find it. The JYight-fiiece on

Death is indirectly preferred by Goldsmith to Gray's
Church-Yard; but in my opinion, Gray has the advantage of dignity, variety, and originality of sentiment.

He

observes, that the story of the Hermit

Dialogues and Howell's

More's

is in

Letters, and supposes

it

to

have been originally Arabian.

Goldsmith has not taken any notice of the Elegy to

Beauty , which is perhaps the meanest ; nor of
the Allegory on Man, the happiest of Parnell's perthe old

formances

the hint of the

Hymn

to

Contentment

I sus-

pect to have been borrowed from Cleiveiand.

The

general character of Parnell

of comprehension, or

appears

still

fertility

less is

his

is

of mind.

own.

there

is

little

that

His praise must be de-

rived from the easy sweetness of his

verses

not great extent

Of the

more happiness

diction

than pains

in

he

his
is

sprightly without effort, and always delights, though he

never ravishes

seems

casual.

every thing
If there

tion in the Hermit,

less pleasing.

Of

is

is

proper, yet every thing

some appearance

the narrative, as

it is

his other compositions

of elabora-

less* airy, is

it is

impossi-

ble to say whether they are the productions of nature,

so excellent as not to want the help of art, or of art so
refined as to resemble nature.

This criticism relates only to the pieces published

Of

by Pope.

last edition, I

the large appendages which

can only say, that

know

not

I find in

the

whence they

came, nor have ever inquired whither they ate going.

They stand upon the faith of the compilers.
*

Dr.

Warton

asks, " less than

what

?"

E.

GARTH.

SAMUEL GARTH

was of a good family

from some school

and

shire,

in

his

a student at Peter-house in Cambridge,

came

in

York-

own country

be-

where he

he became doctor of physic on July the 7th,

resided

till

1691.

He was examined

on March the

He was

26th, 1693.

before the college at

London

1691-2, and admitted fellow June

12th,

soon so

much

distinguished by his

and accomplishments, as to obtain very

and, if a pamphlet of those .times
extensive practice
may be credited, had the favour and confidence of one
conversation

party, as Radcliffe had of the other.

He
and

always mentioned as a

is

is just

it

to

helpless disposed
sary

short,

suppose that

him

to

so

man

of benevolence

his desire of helpiwg the

much

zeal for the dispen-

an undertaking of which some account, however

is

proper to be given,

Whether what Temple says be true, that physicians

have had more learning than the other faculties, I will
but, I believe, every man has
not stay to inquire
;

found

in

physicians great liberality and dignity of sen-

timent, very prompt effusion

of beneficence, and wil-

lingness to exert a lucrative art

of lucre.

Agreeably

physicians, in
all

July,

where there

is

no hope

to this character, the college of

1687, published an edict, requiring

the fellows, r.uididatcs, a:;d: he licentiates, to give gra-

tuitous advice to the neighbouring poor.

GAKTll.

This edict was sent to the court of aldermen

question being

made

whom

to to

51

and, a

the appellation of the

fwor should be extended, the college answered, that it

should be sufficient 10 bring a testimonial from the
clergyman officiating in the parish where the patient
resided.

a year's experience,

After

and made

to a great

the

physicians

some malignant

their charity frustrated by

found

opposition,

degree vain by the high price of

physic; they therefore voted, in August, 1688, that the

accommodated

laboratory of the college should be

to

preparation of medicines, and another room pre-

the

pared for their reception

and that the contributors to

manage the

the expense should

charity.

was now expected, that the apothecaries would

have undertaken the care of providing medicines but
It

they took another course.

pernicious to their interest,

a faction against
sicians

it

in the college,

mean enougn

traying to

Thinking the whole design

they endeavoured to raise
and found some phy-

to solicit their

patronage, by be-

them the counsels of the

greater part, however,

enforced by a

1694, the former order of

college.

new

1687, and sent

The

edict, in
it

to the

mayor and alderman, who appointed a committee

treat with the college,

and

settle the

mode

to

of administer-

ing the charity.

It

was desired by the aldermen,

that the testimonial's

of church wardens and overseers should be admitted

and that

all

hired servants, and

ail

apprentices to handi-

craftsman, should be considered as poor. This likewise

was granted by the college.

It was then considered who should
medicines, and

who

physicians procured

should

settle

distribute the

their prices.

some apothecaries

to

the dispensation, and offered that the warden and

Vol.

II.

The

undertake

com-

GARTH.

54

pany of the apothecaries should adjust the price. This'

and the apothecaries who had enoffer was rejected
;

gaged

to assist the charity

were considered

as

traitors

company, threatened with the imposition of troublesome officers, and deterred from the performance of
to the

The

their engagements.

apothecaries ventured upon

public opposition, and presented a kind of remonstrance

against the design to the committee of the city, which

the

physicians condescended to confute

seem

the traders
trade

to

and

among

have prevailed

at

last

the sons of

having been con-

for the proposal of the college

sidered, a paper of approbation was drawn up, but post-

poned and forgotten.

The

physicians

still

persisted

agreement prefixed

to

and

1696 a sub-

in

know

The

not.

The

the dispensary.

for a time supplied with

time,

was raised by themselves, according

scription

medicines

for

to

an

poor were,

how long

medicinal charity, like others,

be^an with ardour, but soon remitted, and

at

last

died

gradually away.

About

the time of the subscription begins the action

of The Diafiensary.

The poem,

present and popular, co-operated

as

wifch

its

subject was

the passions and

prejudices then prevalent, and with such auxiliaries

was universally and liberally apwas on the side of charity against the in-

to its intrinsic merit,

plauded.
trigues of
licentious

It

interest,

usurpation

and of regular learning against

of

medical authority, and was

therefore naturally favoured by those

who

read and can

judge of poetry.
In 1697, Garth spoke that which is now called the
JIarveian Oration
which the authors of the Biographia mrntion with more praise than the passage quoted
;

in their notes will fully justify.

Garth, speaking of the

GARTrf.

Non

has

done by quacks,

mischiefs

"

55

expressions:

these

ta:nen telis vulnerat ista agyrtarum cullovies,

sed theriaca quadano magis perniriosa., non pyrio, sed

pulvere nescio quo exotico certat, non globulis plum-

This was

beis, sed pilulis aeque lethalibus interficit.*'

certainly thought

fine

ed by his biographer.

by the author, and

is still

In October 1702, he

admir-

became one

of the censors of the college.

mem-

Garth, being an active and zealous whig, was a

ber of the Kit-cal club, and, by consequence, familiarly

known to all the great men of that denomination. In
1710,

when

the government

fell

into other hands,

writ to lord Godolphin, on his dismission, a short

which was

criticised in the

fully either

Examiner^ and so success-

defended or excused by Mr. Addison, that,

for the sake of the vindication,

At

the

he

poem,

accession of the

it

ought

to be preserved.

present family his merits

were acknowledged and rewarded. He was knightec?

and was
with the sword of his hero, Marlborough
;

made

physician in ordinary to the king, and physician-

general to the army.

He

then undertook an edition of Ovid's metamor-

phoses, translated by several hands, which he recom-

mended by
than ability
rials

He

a preface, written
;

with more ostentation

his notions are half-formed,

immethodically confused.

died Jan. 18,

1717

8,

and his mate-

This was

his last

and was buried

at

work.

Harrow*

on-the-Hill.

His personal character seems to have been social

and

liberal.

He communicated himself through

wide extent of acquaintance

party, at a time

he imparted
posed

a very

and though firm in a

when firmness included virulence, yet

who were not sup-

his kindness to those

to favour his principles.

s-ager of

Pope, and was

at

He was an

early encou-

once the friend of Addison

t.\KUJ

Ho

and of Granville.
irrcli^iui.

accused of voluptuousness and

is

who sirs,

and Pope,

" that if< vet there

a good ChristUto, whhotli

kaowing himself to he
Dr. Garth," seems not able to deny what he

was

so,
is

it

an-

gry to hear, and loth to confess.

Pope afterwards declared himself convinced,

Garth died

in

communion

the

of the church of

having been privately reconciled.

Lowth, that there

is less

It

13

observed by

distance than

is

thought be-

tween scepticism and popery

and that

mind, wearied

with perpetual doubt, willingly seeks repose

som of an

infallible

His poetry

been praised

lias

and free versification

No

gant.

much

passages

above

it.

in

the bo-

church.

In 77ir dispensary there

merit.

that

Rome,

at
is

least equally to its

a strain of

smooth

but few lines are eminently ele-

fall

The

below mediocrity, and few rise

plan seems formed without just

proportion to the subject

the

Resnel

necessary connexion.

means and end have no

in his

preface to Pope's

Essay, remarks, that Garth exhibits no discrimination

of characters

and that what any one says might, with

equal propriety, have been said by another.

design
sition

perhaps, open to criticism

is,

The

general

but the compo-

can seldom be charged with inaccuracy or ne-

The

gligence.

gence

his

full

author never slumbers in self-indulvigour

line is left unfinished

sion used

pressed.

is

nor

always everted
is it

scarcely a

easy to fiod an expres-

by constraint, or a thought imperfectly exIt was remarked by Pope, that The Disfien-

?ary had been corrected in every edition, and tiiat every

change was an improvement. It appears, however, to
want something of poetical ardour, and something of

general delectation

and therefore, since

it

has been no

tonger supported by accidental and intrinsic popularitv,

it

has

hem

scarcclv able to n] potl

ill

ROWE.

NICHOLAS ROWE

was born at Little Beckford,

His family had long possessed
a considerable estate, with a good house, at LamberHis ancestor from whom he
toun in Devonshire.*
descended in a direct line received the arms borne by
His
his descendants for his bravery in the holy war.
in Bedfordshire, in

father,

673.

John Rowe, who was the

first

that quitted his

paternal acres to practise any part of profit, professed

law, and

.the

ports

in

Benlow's and Dallison's Re-

published

James the second, when

the reign of

sition to the notions, then diligently

pensing power, he ventured to

authors rated the

prerogative.

He

and died April 30, 1692.

Temple church.
first

oppodis-

remark how low his

He was made a Ser-

jeant,

Nicholas was

in

propagated, of

was buried

in the

sent to a private school at High-

removed to Westminster,
was at twelve yearsf chosen one of the king's scholars.
His master was Busby, who suffered none. of his scholgate

and, being

ars to let their

afterwards

powers

lie

useless

several languages are said to

uncommon degrees of
him very little labour.

He was

not elected

and his exercises in

excellence, and yet to have cost

* In the Villare, Lamerton.

have been written with

till

Orig, Edit-

1688.

E 2

N.

ROWE.

58

At

sixteen he had, in his father's opinion,

vances

learning sufficient to qualify

in

made

him

for

ad*

the

study of law, and was entered a student of the middle

temple, where for some time he read statutes and reports with proficiency proportionate to the force of his

mind, which was already such that he endeavoured

comprehend

poshivc precepts, but as a system of ration-

lection of
al

to

law, not as a series of precedents, or col-

goverment, and impartial justice.

When
father,

he was nineteen, he was, by the death of his

left

more

to

own

his

direction, and

from that time suffered law gradually

probably

way

to give

to

At twenty-five he produced The Ambition*

Stefi-mothcr, which was received with so much favour

poetry.

that

he devoted himself from

that time wholly to ele-

gant literature.

His next tradegy (1702) was Tamerlane,

in

which,

under the name of Tamerlane, he intended to characterize king William, and Lewis the fourteenth under
Bajazet.

The

virtues of

Tamerlane seem

been arbitrary assigned him by

not

the

history

his

poet,

to

have

know

any other qualities that those

gives

The

which make a conqueror.

fashion,

time was, to accumulate upon Lewis

horror and detestation

for

however, of the

all that

can

raise

and whatever good was with-

held from him, that

it
might not be thrown away, was
bestowed upon king William.

This was the tradegy which

that

Rowe

which probably, by the help of

excited most applause

valued most, and

political auxiliaries,

but occasional poetry must of-

ten content itself with occasional praise.

for a

Tamerlane has

long time been acted only once a year, on the night

when king William

has been long over

landed.
;

and

it

Our
now

quarrel with Lewis

gratifies neither zeal

ROWE.
nor malice

59

him painted with aggravated

upon a sign.

to see

like a Saracen

The Fair Penitent,

features,

production (1703,)

his next

is

one of most pleasing tragedies on the stage, where

it still

keeps

turn of appearing, and probably will

its

long keep them, for there

is

scarcely any

work of any

poet at once so interesting by the fable, and so delightful

by the language.

The

story

domestic, and there-

is

fore easily received by the imagination, and assimilated

to

common
The

life

the diction

is

exquisitely harmonious,

or sprightly as occasion requires.

aiid soft

character of Lothario seems to have been expan-

ded by Richardson

into

Lovelace

but he has excelled

fiction.

Lothario,

which cannot be hated, and bravery which

witli gaiety

cannot be despised, retains too

kindness.

teach us

moral effect of the

his original in the

It

was

in the

much

of the spectator's

power of Richardson alone

once esteem and detestation, to

at

ous resentment overpower

wit, elegance,

all

to

make virtu-

the benevolence which

and courage, naturally excite

and to

lose at last the hero in the villian.

The
the

of what

act

fifth

drama
is

is

not equal to the former, the events of

are exhausted, and

past.

It

little

remains but

has been observed, that the

to talk
title

of

the play does not sufficiently correspond with the be-

haviour of Calista,
of repentance, but

who at last shews no evident signs

may be reasonably suspected of

feeling pain from detection rather than from guilt, and

expresses

more shame than sorrow, and more rage

than shame.

His next (1706) was Ulysses

mon

fate

neglected.

of mythological

We

which, with the com-

stories,

is

now

generally

have been too early acquainted with

the poetical heroes, to expect any pleasure from their

revival

to

shew them,

as they have already been shewn,

Row

60
is to

or

disgust by repetition

new adventurers,

to give

to offend

is

them new

qualities

by violating received

notions.

The Royal Convert (1708) seems to have a better

The fable is drawn from an obscure and barbarous age, to which fictions are more

claim to longevity.

and properly adapted

easily

imperfectly

The

tion.

when

for

are

objects

they easily take forms from imagina-

se.en,

scene

lies

among our

ancestors in our

own

country, and therefore very easily catches attention.

Rodogune'is a personage truly tragical, of high

spiifc,

and violent passions, great with tempestuous dignity,

and wicked with a soul that would have been heroic
if it

The motto seems

had been virtuous.

his play

Rowe

to tell, that

was not successful.

remember what his characters

is some ridiculous mention
and Rodogunc a savage Saxon talks

does not always

require. In Tamerlane there

of the god of love

of Venus, and the eagle that bears the thunder of Jupiter.

The

play discovers

ihe Union,
ises to

in

its

imitation of

Henry

the eighth.

own

date, by a prediction of

Cranmer's prophetic prom-

The

anticipated blessings of

union are not very naturally introduced, nor very happily expressed.

He

once (1706) tried to change his hand.

tured on a comedy, and produced

which, though

it

sat in the

ven-

was unfavourably treated by the au-

dience, he was himself delighted

have

Me

The Biter; with

for he

is

said

to

house laughing with great vehemence,

whenever he had,

in his

own

opinion, produced a jest.

But, finding that he and the public had no sympathy of

mirth, ho tried at lighter scenes no more.

After the royal convert (1717) appeared Jane Shore,

written, as

its

author professes, in imitation of Shak-

ROWE.

01

In what he thought himself an imitator

sficare's style.

ef Shakspeare,

is

it

not easy to conceive.

The num-

bers, the dictions, the sentiments, and the conduct, every

thing in which imitation can consist, are remote in the

utmost degree from the manner of Shakspeare, whose

dramas

it

resembles only as

is

it

some of the persons have

as

an English story, and

names

their

in

history.

This play, consisting chiefly of domestic scenes

private distress, lays hold

upon the

heart.

The

forgiven because she repents, and the husband

oured because he forgives.

we

This, therefore,

and

wife
is

is

is

hon-

one of

welcome on the stage.

His last tragedy (1715) was Lady Jane Gray. This
subject had been chosen by Mr. Smith, whose papers
were put into Rowe's hands such as he describes them
those pieces which

This play has likewise sunk into oblivi-

in his preface.

From

on.

still

this

time he gave nothing more to the stage.

Being by a competent fortune exempted from any

necessity of combating his inclination, he never wrote
in

distress, -and therefore

written in

approbation, and
hurry.

It

logues ate
others

As

does not appear to have ever

His works were finished to his own

bear few marks of negligence or

haste.

remarkable, that his prologues and epi-

is

his

all

own, though he sometimes supplied

he afforded help, but did not

his studies necessarily

Shakspeare,

and

solicit

made him

acquaintance

it.

acquainted with

produced

veneration,

he undertook (1709) an edition of his works, from which

he neither received much praise, nor seems to have
expected

it;

yet, I believe, those

former copies

will find that

promised ; and

that,

of criticism,

prefixed a

without the

many passages

life

who compare

it

with

he has done more than he

pomp

of notes or boasts

are happily restored.

He

of the author, such as tradition, then a^-

Rtm K.

62

most expiring, could sunply, and a preface

much

cannot be said to discover

He

tration.

at least

which

profundity or pene-

contributed to the popularity of his

author.

He was

enough to improve his. fortune by

He was under-secretary for
three years when the duke of Qucensberry was secre-

othe;-

arts

willing

than

poetry.

the earl of Oxsome public employment. t Oxford enjoined

him to study Spanish; and when, some time afterwards,
he came again, and said that he had mastered it, dismissed him with this congratulation, " Then, sir I entary of state, and afterwards applied to
ford for

vy you the pleasure of reading Don Quixote

in

the

original."

This story

who

desired

is

attested

sufficiently

to

should thus insult a

how Rowe, who was

willingly converse

man

but

why Oxford,

of acknowledged merit

so keen a whig;

men

with

of

could ask preferment from Oxford

sible to discover.

be thought a favourer of literature,

Pope,

who

that

or

he did not

the opposite party,

;

it is

not

now

pos-

told the &tory, did not say

on what occasion the advice was given; and, though he

owned Rowc's disappointment, doubted whether any injury was intended him, but thought it rather lord Oxford's

odd

ivtiy.

It is likely that

he lived on discontented through the

but the time came at last

when he found kinder friends. At the accession of king
Cieorge he was made poct-laureat
I am afraid by the
ejection of poor Nahum Tate, who (1716) died in the
rest of

queen Anne's reign

mint, where he was forced to seek shelter by extreme

poverty.
*
i>e

He was made

likewise one of the land-sur-

Mr. Howe's preface, however,

is

iupposetl from this passage from the

f Sp-nce.
*

Spence.

not
life.

distinct, as

R.

it

migh*

ROWE
veyors of the custom of
prince of

03

The

London.

the port of

Wales chose him

clerk of his council

and

the lord chancellor Parker, as soon as he received the

seals,

appointed him, unasked, secretary of the presen-

Such an accumulation of employments

tations.

un-

doubtedly produced a very considerable revenue.

Having

some

already translated

parts of Lucan'e

Pharsalia, which had been published in the Miscella-

and doubtless received many praises, he under-

nies,

took a version of the whole work, which he lived to

finish, but not to publish. It seems to have been print-

ed under the care of Dr.

author's
acter
*f

which

is

his person,

it

life,

in

Wei wood, who

prefixed the

contained the following char-

As

to

was graceful and well made ;

manly beauty. As his soul

his face regular, and of a

was well lodged, so its rational and animal faculties exHe had a quiet and fruitful
celled in a high degree.
invention, a deep penetration, and a large compass of
thought, with singular dexterity and easiness
his thoughts to

He was

be understood.

in

making

master of most

parts of polite learning, especially the classical authors

both Greek and Latin ; understood the French, Italian,

and Spanish languages; and spoke the first fluently,

and the other two tolerably well.

"

man

He

had likewise read most of the Greek and Roand most that

histories in their original languages,

are wrote in English, French, Italian, and Spanish.'

had a good

taste in

philosophy

pression of religion

upon

his

mind, he took great de-

light in divinity and ecclesiastical history, in both

he made great advances

in

ligion

full

which

the times he retired into the

country, which was frequent.

casions, his

He

and having a firm im-

He

expressed, on

all

oc-

persuasion, of the truth of revealed re-

and being a sincere

member

of the established

BOWK.

04

church himself, he

pitied, hut

dissented from

He

secuting
ligion

him

it.

men upon

and being

condemed

not, those thst

ahnorred the principles of per-

the account of their opinions in re-

strict in his

own, he took

not

it

censure those of another persuasion.

to

upon

His con-

versation was pleasant, witty, and learned, without the

least tincture of affectation or

pedantry

and

inimi-

his

manner of diverting and enlivening the company

table

made it impossible
when he was in it.

for any

one

Envy and

to be out of

detraction

entirely foreign to his constitution

vocations he

met with

over without the

least

at

humour

seemed

to be

and whatever pro-

any time, he passed them

thought of resentment or revenge.

As Homer had a Zoilus, so Mr. Rowe had sometimes

his for there were not wanting malevolent people, and
;

pretenders to poetry too, that would now and then bark

own

performances but he was concious of his

best

at his

genius, and had so

them

much

good-nature as to forgive

nor could he ever be tempted to return them an

answer.
u The love of learning and poetry
less

to

fit

for business,

when

it,

it

made him

The

required his attendance.

Qucensberry, when he was secretary of

him

his secretary for public affairs;

great

man came

to know him
when Mr. Ro.ve was

pleased as

the duke's death,

ferment
his

not the

and nobody applied himself closer

all

late

made

and when that truly

well,

he was never so

in his

company. After

avenues were stopped to

and during the

duke of

state,

rest of that

his pre-

reign, he passed

time with the muses and his books, and sometimes

the conversation of his friends.

When
\\as in a

away, and

men,

he had just got to be easy

fairway
in

to

make

it

swept him

him deprived the world of one of the

the best genmsses of the

as well as on e of

and

in his fortune,

better, death

best
age'.

ROWE.

He

6$

died like a Christian and a philosopher, in charity

with

all

mankind, and with an absolute resignation to

He kept up his good-humour to the

the will of God.

last

and took leave of

before

and friends, immediately

his wife

agony, with the same tranquillity of

his last

mind, and the same indifference for life, as though he

had been upon taking but a short journey. He was
twice married first to a daughter of Mr. Parsons, one
;

of the auditors of the revenue

and afterwards

daughter of Mr, Devenish, of a good family

By

shire.

the

first

he had a son

in

to

Dorset-

and by the second a

He

daughter, married afterwards to Mr. Fane.

died

the sixth of December, 1718, in the forty-fifth year of

age

his

month

in

and was buried the nineteenth of the same

Westminster-abbey,

in the aisle

where many

of our English poets are interred, over against Chaucer,

his

body being attended by a select number of his

and the dean and choir officiating at the fune-

friends,

ral."

To

this character,

which

the fondness of a friend,

Pope, who says,

is

apparently given with

may be added

in a letter to Blount,

companied me, and passed a week

not tell you

but

how much a man

the testimony of

" Mr.

is

impossible to part from

him without

Which generally succeeds

all

companion,

ac-

need

me

a vivacity and gaiety

of disposition almost peculiar to him, which

left

of his turn entertained

must acquaint you, there

Pope has

Rowe

in the forest.

make

it

that uneasiness

our pleasure.'

behind him another mention of his

less advantageous,

which

is

thus reported

by Dr Warburton.
Rowe, in Mr. Pope's opinion, maintained a decent

Mr. Addison was justly

some behaviour which arose from that
want, and estranged himself from him j which Rowe
character, but had no heart.

offended with

Voi^. II.

ROWE

6d
felt

Mr. Pope,

very severely.

knowing

Mr

this,

their

Addison's advancement, to

Rowe was

common

friend,

some juncture of
tell him how poor

took an opportunity, at

grieved at his displeasure, and what

satis-

Mr. Addison's good fortune,

which lie expressed so naturally, that he (Mr. Pope)
Mr. Addison replied
could not but think him sincere.
faction he expressed at

do not suspect that he feigned

hut the levity of his

new adventure
same manner, if he
Mr. Pope said he
heard I was guing to be hanged,'
could not deny but Mr. Addison understood Rowc

heart

and

such, that he

is

would

it

is

him

affect

struck with any

just in the

well."

This censure time has not

firming or refuting

much

left

us the power of con-

but observation daily shews, that

stress is not to be

on hyperbolical accusa-

laid

tions,

and pointed sentences, which even he that utters

them

desires to be applauded rather than

Addison can hardly be supposed

he

Few

said.

credited.

have meant

to

characters can bear

scrutiny of wit quickened by anger

all

that

the microscopic
;

ard perhaps the

best advice to authors would be, that they should keep

out of the way of one another.

Rowe

cliiefly to

is

and a translator.

be considered as a tragic writer

In his attempt at

jgnominiously, that his Biter

works

comedy he

failed so

not inserted

is

in

tions arc

rarely worthy of either

praise

or

censure

seem the casual sports of a mind seeking

amuse its leisure than to exercise its powers.

for they

ther to

In the construction of his dramas, there

art

he

is

is

not a nice observer of the unities.

tends time and varies place as

quires.

his

and his occasional poems and short composi-

To

vary the place

olation of nature, if the

is

his

not, in

my

not

ra-

much

He

ex-

convenience reopinion, any vi-

Change be made between the

ROWE.
acts

for

himself
the

first

it is

at

no less easy for the spectator to suppose

Athens

second

in the

since an act

is

from

when we have been

in

done by Rowe,

of the business as

transacted

is

Rowe, by this licence,

without interruption.
tricates himself

is

add more acts to the play,

act, is to

much

so

Thebes

act, than at

but to change the scene, as

middle of an

in the

<#

difficulties

as,

easily ex-

Jane Gray %

in

terrified with all the dreadful

of public execution, and are wondering

how

pomp

the hero-

ine or the poet will proceed, no sooner has Jane pronounced some prophetic rhymes, than pass and be
gone
the scene closes, and Pembroke and Gardener

are turned out upon the stage.

I

know

not that there can be found in his plays any

deep search

into nature,

any accurate discriminations of

kindred qualities, or nice display of passion in

gress

all is

interest or affect the auditor,

is

Nor

general and undefined.

except

always seen and heard with pity.

ter of

empty

row or

to natural

Whence,

in

Jane

Alicia

S/iore,

is

no resemblance

noise, with

its

pro-

does he mucl>

who

a charac-

to real sor-

madness.

then, has

Rowe

his reputation

reasonableness and propriety of

some of

From
his

the

scenes,

from the elegance of his diction, and the suavity of his

He seldom moves either pity or terror, but he
often elevates the sentiments ; he seldom pierces the

verse.

breast, but he always delights the ear,

aud often im-

proves the understanding.

His translation of the Golden Verses, and of the first

book of Quillet's Poem, have nothing in them remarkable.
The Golden Verses are tedious.

The

version of

tions of

Lucan

English poetry

is
;

one of the greatest producfor there

is

perhaps none

that so completely exhibits the genius and spirit of the

original.

Lucan

is

distinguished by a kind of dictato-

ROWE.

68
rial

or philosophic dignity,' rather, as Quintilian observes,

declamatory than poetical

full

of ambitious

and pointed sentences, comprised

in

morality

vigorous and ani-

mated lines. This character Rowe has very

diligently and

successfully preserve d. His versification, which

is

such

as his contemporaries practised, without any attempt at

innovation or improvement, seldom wants either

or force. His author's sense

is

sometimt

melody

s a little diluted

by additional infusions, and sometimes weakened by too

much

But such

expansion.

in all translations,

The

dissimilitude of languages.

deserves more notice than

read

it

will

be expected

faults are to

from the constraint of measures and

it

Pharsalia of

obtains, and as

it

is

Rowe
more

be more esteemed.*

The life of Rowe

uncommon strength of

is

ceived from him die M.

the criticism was

a very remarkable

Dr. Johnson's
S.

instance

memory.

of the

When

he complacently observed, "

tolerably well

done,

considering that

had not seen Rowe's works for thirty years."

N.

re-

that

he

ADDISON.

JOSEPH ADDISON

was born on the

first

of

1672, at Milston, of which his father, Launcelot

May,
Ad-

was then rector, near Ambrosebury in Wiltshire,

and appearing weak and unlikely to live, he was christened the same day. After the usual domestic education,
dison,

which from the character of his father may be reasonably supposed to have given him strong impressions of
piety, he was committed to the cave of Mr. Naish at
Ambrosebury, and afterwards of Mr. Taylor at Salisbury.

Not

to

name

the school or the masters of

men

illus-

by
would

trious for literature is a kind of historical fraud,

which honest fame

therefore trace

education.

is

injuriously diminished

him through

the whole process of his

In 1683,- in the beginning of his twelfth

year, his father, being

made dean
new

rally carried his family to his

of Litchfield, natu
residence, and

be-

him for some time, probably not long, under Mr. Shaw, then master of the school at Litchfield,
Of this interval his.
father of the late Dr. Peter Shaw.
biographers have given no a ccount, and Iknow it only
from a story of a barring-out^ told me when I was a
lieve, placed

boy, by
it

from

Andrew Corbet

of Shropshire,

Mi*. Pigot his uncle.

v 2

who had heard

ADDISON*.

70

The

was a savage

practice of barring-out

practised

in

many

schools at the

licence,

d of the last cen-

which the boys, when the periodical vacation

drew near, growing petulent at the approach of liberty,
some days before the time of regular recess, took possession of the school, of which they barred the doors,
tury, by

and bade their master defiance from the windows.

It is

not easy to suppose that on such occasions the master

would do more than laugh

may be

yet, if tradition

credited, he often struggled hard to force or surprise

The

the garrison.

when Pigot was

master,

boy, was barred out at Litchfield

tion, as

To

he

said,

a school-

and the whole opera-

was planned and conducted by Addison.

judge better of the probabilitj of

story, I'

this

have inquired when he was sent to the Chartreux but,

as he was not one of those who enjoyed the founder's
;

benefaction, there

no account preserved of

is

his ad-

At the school of the Chartreux, to which he

removed either from that of Salisbury or Litchfield,

mission.

mi
lie

pursued

his juvenile studies

and contracted

Ellis,

which their

Steele,

under the care of Dr.

intimacy with

that

joint labours

sir

Richard

have so effectually re-

corded.

Of this memorable
be given to Steele.

whom

friendship the greater praise

It is

not bard to love those

nothing can be feared

must
from

and Addison never con-

sidered Steele as a rival, but Steele lived, as he coniesses,

under a habitual subjection

ing genius of Addison,

whom

predominat-

to the

he always mentioned with

reverence, and treated with (bsequiousness.

Addison,*

ways
mirer
*\vere

who knew

forbeai to
;

shew

but he was

his

it,

in

own

dignity, could not al-

by playing

a little

upon

no danger of retort

endured without resistance or resentment.

8 pence.

his ad-

his jests

ADDISON.

71

But the sneer of jocularity was not the worst. Steele,

whose imprudence of- generosity, or vanity of profusion, kept him always incurably necessitous, upon some
pressing exigence, in an evil hour, borrowed a hundred pounds of his friend, probably without much purpose of repayment ; but Addison, who seems, to have

had other notions of a hundred pounds, grew impatient

of delay, and reclaimed his loan by an execution. Steele
with great sensibility the obduracy of his creditor,

felt

but with emotions of sorrow rather than of anger.*

In 1687 he
ford,

where,

was entered
in

into queen's college in

1689, the accidental perusal of

Oxsome

Latin verses, gained him the patronage of Dr. Lancasafterwards provost of queen's college

ter,

by whose

recommendation he was elected into Magdalen college

as a demy, a term by which that society denominates
those which are elsewhere called scholars young men
;

who

partake of the founder's benefaction, and succeed

in their

order to vacant fellowships.f

Here he continued to cultivate poetry and criticism,

and grew first eminent by his Latin compositions,
which are indeed

intitled to particular praise.

He has

not confined himself to the imitation of any ancient author, but has

formed

his

style

from the general

lan-

* This fact was communicated to Johnson in my hearing by

a person of unquestionable veracity, but whose name I am
not at liberty to mention. He had it, as he told us, from lady
Primrose, to

The

whom

Steele related

it

with tears in his eyes.

me, by saying, that he

had heard it from Mr. Hooke, author of the Roman History
and he, from Mr. Pope. H.
See Victor's letters, vol. I. p. 328, this transaction somewhat differently related. R.
t

late

He

Dr.

Stinton confirmed

it

to

took the degree M. A. Feb. 14,

1693-.

ADDISON.

72

guage, such as a diligent perusal of the productions dY

different ages

happened

to

supply.

His Latin compositions seem

to

Muse
in

much

have had

of

second volume of the

his fondness, for he collected a

.4nglican&, perhaps for a convenient receptacle,

which

poem on

all his

Latin pieces arc inserted, and where his

the peace has the

lie afterwards

place,

first

presented the collection to Boilcau, who, from that

time, " conceived," says Tickell, " an opinion of the

English genius for poetry."

Nothing

is

better

known

of Boileau, than that he had an injudicious and peevish

contempt of modern Latin, and therefore his prowas probably the effect of his civility

fession of regard

rather than approbation.

Three of his Latin poems are upon subjects on

which perhaps he would not have ventured to have
The battle of the pigmies
written in his own language.
and cranes

When

which nothing
liar,

the barometer

the matter

is

is

and

boivling-grecn.

low or scanty, a dead language,

mean because nothing

affords great conveniences

rous magnificence of

Roman

and,

in

fami-

is

by the sono-

syllables, the writer con-

ceals penury of thought, and want of novelty, often

from

the reader, and often from him-elf.

In his twenty-second year he

of English poetry by

first

shewed

his

some verses addressed

to

power
Dry-

den; and soon afterwards published a translation of

the greater part of the fourth Georgic, upon bees ; after which says Dry den, u my latter swarm is hardly

worth the having."

About the same time he composed the arguments

Dry den's Virgil and

prefixed to the several books of

produced an essay on the Gcorgics, juvenile, superficial,

and uninstructive, without

much

cither of the scho-

lar's learning or the critic's penetration.

ADDISON.

73

His next paper of verses contained a character of

Henry Sache-

the principle English poets, inscribed to

verell,

as

is

who was

shewn by

then, if not a poet, a writer of verses ;*

small part of Virgil's

his version of a

Georgics, published in the miscellanies

encomium on queen Mary,

These verses exhibit

all

in

and

Latin

the Musce dnglicana t

the fondness of friendship

but on one side or the other, friendship was afterwards

too

weak

In this

for the malignity of faction.

poem

is

confident and discriminate

a very

oharacter of Spenser, whose

So

read.f

little

judgment.

It is

sometimes

work he had then never

is

criticism the effect of

necessary to inform the reader, that

about this time he was introduced by Congreve to

Montague, then chancellor of the exchequer ; Addison
was then learning the trade of a courtier, and subjoined Montague as a poetical name to those of Cowley
and of Dryden.
*

letter

I found among Dr. Johnson's papers, dated

from a lady in Wiltshire, contains a disco-

which

in January, 1784.

very of some importance in literary history,

initials

H. S. prefixed to the poem,

we

the famous D. Henry Sacheverell, whose

markable incident

in his life.

The

viz. that,

by the

are not to understand

trial

is

the most re-

information thus communi-

cated is, ihat the verses in question were not an address to the
famous Dr Sacheverell, but to a very ingenious gentlemen of
the same name, who died young, supposed to be a Manksman,
for that he wrote the history of the Isle of Man. That this
person left his papers to Mr. Addison, and had formed a plan

of a tragedy upon the death of Socrates: The lady says she

had this information from a Mr. Stephens, who wa3 a fellow
of Merton College, a contemporary and intimate with Mr. Ad-

d-on

in

Oxford,

of Winchester.

who

died, near fifty years ago, a prebendary

H.
f Spence.

$4

ADDISON.

By

the influence of Mr. Montague, concurring, ac-

cording

from

orders.

rngaged
tion

his original design of entering into holy

Montague alleged the corruption of men who

civil employments without liberal educa-

in

and declared] that, though he was represented as

enemy

an

with his natural modesty, be was

to Tickell]

divt.rted

to the

chuivh, he would never do

jury but by withholding Addison from

Soon

any

it

in-

it.

wrote a poem to king Wilrhyming introduction addressed to lord

Somcrs.
King William had no regard to elegance or
literature
his study was only war; yet by a choice of
ministers; whose disposition was very different from
after (in 1695) he

liam, with a

own, he procured, without intention, a very liberal

hi-,

patronage

Addison was caressed both by

to poetry.

Somcrs and Montague.

In 1697 appeared his Latin verses on

Ryswick, which he dedicated

1

Praise must not

since the iEneid.*

examined

the

Montague,

peace of

which

raid

called by Smith, " the best Latin

was afterwards
ly

to

b<-

poem

too rigorous-

but the performance cannot be denied to

be vigorous and elegant.

II iving yet
1

no public employment, he obtained) (in

699 a pension of three hundr d

He

might be enabled

Btais,* probably to

then proceeded

to

He

staid a

year at

French language and

journey to Italy which he Surthe

learn

in his

pounds a year, that

travel.

veyed with 'he eyes of a poet.

While
being

lie

idle

be was fir from

only collected

his observations

was travelling
for

lie

not

at leisur

on the country, but found time

to write

on Medals, and foot acts of Cato.

the relation ol

Tick

ins

Such

Dialogues
at

least

Perhaps he only collected

II.

materials, and formed his pi m.

Spence.

is

his

ADDISON.

Whatever Were

his other

75

employments

in Italy,

there wrote the letter to lord Halifax, which

considered as the most elegant,

if

it

he

justly

not the most sub-

But

lime, of his poetical productions.

years he found

is

about <wo

in

home

necessary to hasten

being, as

combecome the tutor of a travelling squire, because

his pension was not remitted.
At his return he published his travels, with a deSwift informs us, distressed by indigence, and

pelled to

dication to lord
tries

was

Somers.

As

his stay in foreign

coun-

such as might be

short, his observations are

supplied by a hasty view, and consist chiefly in comparisons of the present face of the country with the
descriptions left us by the Roman poets, from whom
he made preparatory collections; though he might have
spared the trouble, had he known that such collections

had been made twice before by Italian authors.

The most amusing passage of his book is his account of the minute republic of San Marino of many
;

parts

not a very severe censure to say, that they

it is

might have been written at home. His elegance of

language, and variegation of prose and verse, however,
gains upon the reader

neglected

became

public, that before

in
it

and the book, though awhile

time so

much the favourite

was reprinted

of the

it

rose to five times

702) with a mean-

its price.

When

he returned to England

(in

ness of appearance which gave testimony of the

diffi-

which he had been reduced, he found his old

patrons out of power, and was therefore, for a time, at
full leisure for the cultivation of his mind and a mind
culties to

so cultivated gives reason to believe that

little

time was

lost.

But he remained not long neglected or useless.

Blenheim (1704) spread triumph and

victory at

The
confix-

ADDISON.

dence over the nation

and lord Godolphin, lamenting

Halifax, that

to lord

it

had not been celebrated

in

mannc: equal to the subjtci, desired him to propose it

Halifax told him, that there was
to some better poet.
no encouragement for genius that worthless men were
unprofhably enriched with public money* without any
care to find or employ those whose appearance might
do honour to their country. To this Godolpbin replied,
;

that such abuses should in time be rectifi< d

if a

man

and

that,

could be found capable of the task then pro-

posed, he should not want an ample recompense.

Hali-

fax then named Addison, but requir* d that tbc treasurer

should apply to him

in

Ids

own

person.

Grodolpbifl

message by Mr. Boyle, afterwards lord Carleand Addison, having undertaken the work, com-

sent 'he

ton

municated

it

to the treasurer,

while

it

was yet advanced

no further than the simile of the Angel, and was immediately rewarded by succeeding Mr. Locke in the
place of commissioner of afi/ieals.
In the following year he was

Halifax

at

Hanover with

lord

and the year after he was made ImmU r-sccre-

tary of state, first to sir Charles

Hedges, and

in a

few

to the earl of Sunderland.

months
About

this

time the prevalent

taste for Italian

operas

him to try what would be the effect of a musiHe therefore wrote

cal drama in our own language.
the opera of Rosamond, which, when exhibited on the
stage, was either hissed or neglected but trusting that
the readers would do him more justice, he published
it, with an inscription to the Duchess of Marlborough ;
inclined

woman

without

or literature.

skill

or pretensions to skill,

in

poetry

His dedication was therefore an instance

of servile absurdity, to be exceeded only

Barnes's dedication of a

Greek Anacreon,

by Joshua

to the

Duke.

ADDISON.

77

His reputation had been somewhat advanced by The

Tender Husband, a comedy which Steele dedicated to
him, with a confession that he owed to him several of

To

the most successful scenes.

Addison sup-

this play

plied a prologue.

When

Wharton was appointed lord

him as his

the marquis of

Addison attended

lieutenant of Ireland,

secetary, and was made keeper of the records in Birmingham's tower, with a salary. of three hundred
pounds a year. The office was little more that nominal, and the salary was augmented for his accommodation.

Interest and faction allow

little

to

the operation

particular dispositions or private opinions.

of

Two men

more opposite than those of

Wharton and Addison cou<d not easily be brought together.
Wharton was impious, profligate, and shame-

of personal characters

less,

without regard, or appearance of regard, to right

and wrong

:*

whatever

nected, and

how they

we

is

contrary to this

said

adjusted their other sentiments

cannot know.

Addison must however not be too

It

may be

but as agents of a party they were con-

of Addison

is

not necessary

when

to'

hastily

condemned.

refuse benefits from a bad

man,

the acceptance implies no approbation of his

crimes

nor has the subordinate officer any obligation

examine the opinions or conduct of those under

whom he acts, except that he may not be made the

to

instrument of wickedness.

It is reasonable to suppose
Addison counteracted, as far as he was able, the
malignant and blasting influence of the lieutenant and

that

Dr.

Johnson appears

to

have blended the character of the

marquis with that of his son the duke.

Vol.

II.

N.

ABDISON.

78
that at least by his

some good was done

intervention

and some mischief prevented.

When

he was

in office,

he

made

a law to himself,

as Swft has recorded, never to remit his

in civility to his friends

a hundred friends

and

by relinquishing

shall,

regular fees

" fur," said he, "

my fee
my right,

guineas, and no friend gain

may have

be two guineas,

if

two hundred

lose

more than two

there

is

therefore no proportion between the good imparted

and the

evil suffered."

He was

when

in Ireland

Steele, without

any com-

munication of his design, began the publication of the

Tatler but he was not long concealed by inserting a
remark on Virgil which Addison had given him, he
;

discovered himself.

upon

to write

make

himself

It is

indeed not easy for any

common life, so
those with whom he

man

literature or

as not to

known
who

familiarly

to

are acqainted with his track of

converses, and

study, his favourite topic,

his

notions, and

peculiar

his habitual phrases.

he was not lucky

If Steele desired to write in secret,

His

month detected him.

a single

Tatler was

first

published April 22 (4 709,) and Addison's contribution

appeared

May

Tickcll observes,_that the Tatler

26.

began and was concluded without

This

doubtless literally true

is

suffer

much

ment or

his

any signature

not kept secret

at its cessation

December

He

2.

and
till

did not
I

know

concurrence.

his

but the work did not

by his unconsciousness of
abscence

his assistance to

on January

its

for

23, and the

commence-

he continued

paper stopped
his

peiccs by

not whether his

name was

distinguish

the papers

were collected

into vo-

lumes.
the Tatler in about two months, succeeded the
Spectator j a scries of. essays of the same kind, but

To

ADDISON.

79

more regular plan,

Such
an
undertaking
shewed the
and published
writers not to distrust their own copiousness of matewritten with less levity, upon a
daily.

rials

or facility of composition, and their performance

justified their confidence.

many

progress,

They found however,

To attempt a

auxiliaries.

in their

single paper

was no terifying labour many pieces were offered and

many were l-eceived.
Addison had enough of the zeal of party, but Steele
;

had

time almost nothing

at that

in

one of the

its

authors

first

The

else.

Spectator,

papers shewed the political tenets of

but a resolution was soon taken, of court-

ing general approbation by general topics and sub-

which faction had produced no diversity of

jects on

sentiments, such as literature, morality, and familiar

To

life.

The

this pratice they

adhered with few deviations.

ardour of Steele once broke out

in praise of

Marl-

borough and when Dr. Fleetwood prefixed to some

sermons a preface overflowing with whiggish opinions,
;

that

it

might be read by the queen,*

it

was reprinted

in

the Spectator.

To

teach Ahe minuter decencies and inferior duties,

to regulate the practice of daily conversation,

to

cor-

rect those depravities, which are rather ridiculous than

criminal, and remove those grievancies which if they

produce no lasting calamities, impress hourly vexation,

was

first

attempted by Casa

and Castiglione

in his

book of Manners^
two books yet cele-

in his

Courtier

brated in Italy for purity and elegance, and which,

if

* This particular number of the Spectator, it is said, was

till twelve o'clock, that it might come out precisely at the hour of her majesty's breakfast, and that no time
might be left for deliberating -about serving it up with that
not published

meal, as usual.
Vol,

VL No.

See the edition of the Tatleb with notes,

N.

271, note. p. 452, &c,

ADDISON.

80

they are now less read, are neglected only because they

have effected that reformation which their authors

tended, and their precepts

Their usefulness
is sufficiently

The

age

in-

are no longer wanted.

which they were written

in

which almost

attested by the translations

the nations of

all

to the

now

Europe were

in haste to obtain.

specie^ of instruction was continued, and per-

haps advanced,

by the French

Bruyere's Manners of

remarked,

it

is

among whom La

the age, though, as

written

Boileau

without connexion certainly

deserves praise for liveliness of description and justness of observation.

Before the Taller and Spectator,

the theatre are excepted,

common

life.

No

the writers for

if

England had no masters of

writers had yet undertaken to reform

either the savagencss of neglect or the impertinence of

shew when to speak or to be silent; how to

how to comply. We had many books to teach
our more important duties, and to settle opinions in

civility

to

refuse or

us

philosophy or politics

but an Arbiter Elegantiarum, a

judge of propriety, was yet wanting, who should survey

the track of daily conversation, and free it^jtom

thorns

and prickles, which tease the passer, though they go

not

wound him.

For

this

purpose nothing

is

so proper as the frequent

publication of short papers, which

but aimiscment.
short.
1

If

we read

not as study

the subject be slight, the treatise

The busy may

find time

and the

idle

may

is

find

a'ience.

This mode of conveying cheap and easy knowledge

began among us in the civil war,* when it was much
*

Newspapers appear

assigned,
says,

cuis. kind, in

"The

to

have had an

his

earlier date than here

Character of

original sinner of

this

kind

Londoti piurnal,

WM

Dutch;

Belgicus the Protoplas, and the modern Mercuries but

(iallo!l.

ADDISON,

<**

the interest of either party to rise and fix the preju-

appeared Mcrcurius

dices of the peple.

At

Aulicus, Mercurius

Rusticus, and, Mercurius Civicus.

that time

when any title grew popular, it was stowho by this stratagem conveyed
those who would not have received him

It is said, that

len by the antagonist,

his notions to

had he not worn the appearance of a friend. The tumult

of those unhappy days left scarcely any man leisure to
treasure up occasional compositions and so much were
they neglected, that a complete collection is no where
;

to

be found.

These Mercuries were succeeded by L'Estrange's

Observator

and that by Lesley's Rehearsal, and per-

haps by others

ed

to the

but hitherto nothing had been convery-

people in

commodious manner but con-

this

troversy relating to the church or state

taught

many

to talk,

who m

of which they

they could not teach 10

judge.
It

has been suggested, that the Royal Society was in-

stituted soon

after tlie restoration, to divert the attention

of the people from public discontent.

Spectator had the same tendency

ed

at a

lent,

time

when two

The

parties, loud, restless,

each with plausible

contest

nation

to

and

declarations, and each

haps without any distinct termination of

agitating the

Tatler and

they were publish-

its

views, were

minds heated with

they supplied cooler and

more

vio-

per-

political

inoffensive re-

flections; and it is said by Addison, in a subsequent

work, that they had a perceptible influence upon the

conversation of that time, and taught the frolic and the

en Kdders." Some intelligence given by MercurtpuB GalloBelgicus is mentioned in Care w's Survey of Cornwall, p. 126,
originally published in 1602. These vehicles of information
are often mentioned in the plays of
first.

R.

James and Charles the

ADDISON.

82

gay

merriment with decency

to unite

and effect which,

they can never wholly lose, while they continue to be

among

the

first

books by which both sexes are

initiated

elegances of knowledge.

in the

The

Tatler and Spectator

Casa, the

adjusted, like

unsettled practice of daily intercourse by propriety and

politeness; and, like la Bruyere, exhibited

the Charac-

and manners of the age. The personages introduced in these papers were not merely ideal they were
then known, and conspicuous in various stations.
Of
ters

the Tatler this

is

told by Steele in his

phrastus, a

which he was suspected

write

it.

las'.e

paper

and

Theobook which Addison has recommended, and

of the Spectator by Budgell

Of

to

preface to

the

in

have revised,

those portraits, which

if

he did not

may be supposed

to

be sometimes embellished and sometimes aggravated,

the originals are now partly known and partly forgotten.

But

to say that they united the plans of

eminent writers,

due praise

their

is

to

give

them

two or three

but a small

they superadded

part

of

literature and criti-

cism, and sometimes towered far above their predecessors,

and taught, with great justness of arguments and

dignity of language, the

most important duties and sub-

lime truths.
these

All
fictions

topics

were happily varied

with elegant

and refined allegories, and illuminated with

dif-

ferent changes of style and felicities of invention.

It

is

recorded by Budgell,

feigned or exhibited

in

the

that, of the

characters

Spectator, the favourite of

Addison was sir Roger dc Coverlcy. of whom he had

formed a very delicate and discriminate idea,* which
*

The

errors in this account arc exp'aincd

length in the preface to (be Spectator

lit

the

Bbitim BtoATUTS.

Roger undoubtedly belongs

Tlie

original

to Steele

at

prefixed to

I '.

considerable
tlie

delineation

edition
ot

ADDISOX.

he would not suffer to be violated

83

and therefore, when

shown him innocently picking up a girl in

the temple and taking her to a tavern, he drew upon
Steele had

himself so

much

of his friend's indignation, that he was

forced to appease

Roger

for the

The
hero

para

him by

a promise of forbearing sir

time to come.

reason which induced Cervantes to bring his

to the grave, fiara

e/,

made Addison

mi sola nocia Don Quixote, y yo

declare, with undue vehemence

of expression, that he would

kill

Roger being of

sir

opinion that they were born for one another, and that

any other hand would do him wrong.

may be doubted whether Addison ever

It

his

delineation.

original

He

imagination somewhat warped

having his

perversion he has

made

very

filled

up

describes his knight as

little

use.

but of this

The irregulaso much the ef-

Roger's conduct seem not

mind deviating from the beaten track of life,
by the perpetual pressure of some overwhelming idea,
as of habitual rusticity, and that negligence which solirities

in sir

fects

of a

tary grandeur naturally generates.

The
of

variable weather of the mind, the flying vapours

incipient madness,

which from time

reason, without eclipsing

to exhibit, that Addison

it, it

to

requires so

seems

to

time cloud

much

nicety

have been deterred

from prosecuting his design.

To sir Roger, who, as a country gentleman, appears
to

be a tory,

or, as

it is

to the landed interest,

ed
it

new man,
interest,
is

is

Andrew

and a whig.

Of this

Freeport,

contrariety of opinions,

probable more consequence were at

when

and than

little

seems not

first

intended

the resolution was taken

exclude party from the paper.

little,

sir

a wealthy merchant, zealous for the moni-

than could be produced

to

gently expressed, an adherent

opposed

to

Sir

Andrew does but

have pleased Addison,

ADD1S0K.

who, when he dismissed him from the club, changed

made him,

Steele had

his

the true spirit of

unfeeling conmierce, declare that he " would not build

opinions.

in

a hospital for idle people ;" but at last he buys land,

settles

the country,

in

and builds, not a manufactory,

but a hospital for twelve old husbandmen, for

men

whom

whom he

merchant has

commonly, considers with

Of

acquaintance, and

little

little

with

kindness.

essays thus elegant, thus instructive, and thus

commodiously

distributed,

heard

it

natural to suppose the

is

and the sale numerous.

approba'ion general

may be

oberved, that the sale

it

the product of the tax, related

in

the

once

calculated by
last

number

to

produce more than twenty pounds a week, and therestated

fore

ten

one and twenty pounds, or three pounds

at

a lay

shillings

this,

at a

half-penny a paper, will

give sixteen hundred and cightv* for the daily number.

This sale

was

likely

whom

tator,

fair *rx,

The
stage,

grow

vet this,

if

Swift be cr> dited,

less; for he declares that the

he ridicules for

had before

his endless

his recess

Spec-

mention of the

wearied hfareadersi

whim

Cato came upon the

was the grand climacteric of Addison's reputayear (171 3,)

next

Upon

tion.

ned a

not great

is

to

in

the death of CatOj

tragt dy in the

time of

lie

had, as

his travels,

is

said, plan-

and had

for stv-

vcral

years

shewn

such as were likely to snread their admiraThey were seen by Pope, and by Cibber, who re-

tion.

the

spirit

* Th:it

nmch
JTH/-,,

finished,

when he took back

despicable

the

ever

four acts

were

whi< h

to

lates that Steele,

in

first

In

his

this

low

friend had

calculation

fa

n-al

Vol VI. p,458,

the copy, told him,

cant of literary modesty, that, what-

is

shewn

in the

composition, he

not exaggerated,

that

it

\.

even

is

number, sec the notes on the lath

ADDISON.

85

doubted whether he would have courage

expose

it

sufficient to

to the censure of a British audience.

The time however was now come, when

those

who

affected to think liberty in danger affected likewise to

think tLat a stage play might preserve

was importuned,
Britain, to

shew

in the

his

name

it

and Addison

of the tutelary deities of

courage and

by finishing

his zeal

his design.

To resume

his

work he seemed perversely and un-

accountably unwilling; and by a request, which per-

haps he wished
add

be denied, desired Mr. Hughes to

to

Hughes supposed him

a fifth act.

and,

serious;

undertaking the supplement, brought in a few days

some scenes for

mean time gone
aet>

his

to

examination

work

but he had in the

himself, and produced half an

which he afterwards completed, but with brevity

irregularly disproportionate to the foregoing parts, like

a task,

performed with reluctance and hurried

to its

con-

elusion.
It

may

charged him with raising prejudices

by

false

made pub-

yet be doubted whether Cato was

by any change of the author's purpose

lic

in his

for

Dennis

own

favour,

positions of preparatory criticism, and with

Jioisoning the town by contradicting in the Spectator

the

established rule of poetical justice, because his

own

hero, with

rant.

all

The

all his

virtues,

fact is certain

was

to fall before

the motives

we must

a t$*

guess.

Addison was, I believe, sufficiently disposed to bar

avenues against all danger. When Pope brought

him

the prologue, which

is

properly accommodated to

the play, there were these words, " Britons, arise

be

approved ;*' meaning nothing more than,

Britons, erect and exalt yourselves to the approbation
worth like

this

of public virtue,

Addison was frighted,

lest

he should

86

ADDISON.

be thought a promoter of insurrection, and the line was

liquidated to " Britons, attend."

Now

heavily

came on the day,

when Addison was to

clouds

in

the important day,"

hazard of the theatre.

as

left

hazard as

little

in

with

more

efficacy, practised for Cato.

soon over.

time on

with faction.

at that

every

first

favour of the Disrrest Mother; and was now,

The danger was

fire

which

line in

on the torics

liberty

The whole nation was

The whigs applauded

was mentioned, as

satire

and the tories echoed every clap, to shew

that the satire

was

well known.

He

fifty

puck an audi-

This, says Pope,* had been tried for the

time

the

That there might, howevtr, be

was possible, on the 6rst night

Steele, as himself relates, undertook to

ence.

the great,
stand

unfelt.

The
Booth

called

story of Bolingbroke

to his box,

is

and gave him

guineas for defending the cause of liberty so well

The

against a perpetual dictator.

design a second present,

when

whigs, says Pope,

accompany

they can

it

with as good a sentence.

The

play, supported thus by the emulation of fac-

tious praise,

was acted night

time th*n,

believe, the public had allowed to any dra-

ma

before

wards

an

related,

a longer

after night for

the author, as Mrs. Porter long after-

wandered through the whole exhibition

and unappeasable solicitude.

was printed, notice was given, that the queen

villi restless

When

it

would be pleased

if

it

was dedicated

to

her

" but, as

he had designed that compliment elsewhere, he found

himself obliged" says Tickell, " by his duty on the

one hand and

his

honour on the other,

to

send

it

into

the world without any dedication."

Human

happiness has always

brightest sun-shine of success

is

Spcncc.

its

abatements; the

not without a cloud

ADDISON.

No sooner

was Cato offered

to the reader than

violence of angry criticism.

zealous, and probably by his

was

it

attacked by the acute malignity of Dennis, with

all

the

Dennis though equally

temper more furious, than

Addison, for what they called liberty, and though a

flatterer of the

whig ministry, could not set quiet at a

but was eager to tell friends and ene-

successul play

mies

had misplaced their admirations.

that they

world was too stubborn for instruction

The

with the fate

of the censurer of Ccrneille's Cid, his animadversions

shewed

anger without

his

effect,

and Cato continued

to be praised.

Pope had now an opportunity of courting the

friend-

ship of Addison, by vilifying his old enemy, and could

give resentment

its full

venge himself.

He

the

play, without appearing to re-

therefore bublished

madness of John Dennis

A narrative of

a performance which left

the objections to the play in their full force, and therefore discovered

more

desire of vexing the criiic than

of defending the poet.

Addison,

saw the

who was no

stranger to the world, probably

selfishness of pope's friendship

and, resolving

that he should have the consequences of his officious-

ness to

himself, informed Dennis by Steele, that he

was sorry
think

ner to

The

for the insult

and that whenever he should

remarks he would do
which nothing could be objected.

fit

to

answer

his

greatest weakness in the play

is

it

in a

in the

man-

scenes

of love, which are said by Pope* to have been added

to the original plan

upon

a subsequent review, in

pliance with the popular practice of the stage.

an authority

it is

hard to reject
"

Spence,

yet the love

is

comSuch

so inti-

ADDISON.
matcly mingled with the whole action that
be easily thought extrinsic and adventitious

were taken away, what would be

the four acts filled in the

At the publication the

left

draught

first

from an unknown hand, which

their praise

when

for, if

will

it

how were

or^

seemded proud

wits

their attendance with ecomiastic verses.

what of

cannot

it

The

pay

to

best are

perhaps lose some-

the author

is

known

be

to

Jeffreys.

Cato had yet other honours.

It

was censured

as a

party-play by a scholar of Oxford, and defended in

favourable examination by Dr. Sewell.

It

was

ted by Salvini into Italian, and acted at Florence

by the Jesuits of St.

Of

their pupils.

Addison

it

is to

Omers

into Latin, and

this version a

be wished that

and

played by

copy was sent

it

transla-

Mr.

to

could be found, for

the sake of comparing their version of the soliloquy

with that of Bland.

tragedy was written on the same subject by

Des

French poet, which was translated with

But the translator and
criticism on the English play.

Champs

the critic arc

now

forgotten.

Dennis lived on unanswered, and therefore

little

Addison, knew the policy of literature too well

his

enemy important

for

to

read.

make

drawing the attention of the

public upon a crtUfeum which, though sometimes in-

temperate, was olien irrefragable.

While Cato was upon

the stage, another daily paper,

Tne Guardian, was published by Steele. To this

Addison gave great assistance, whether occasionally
called

or by previous

The
serious

engagement

is

not known.

character of (iviardian was too narrow and too

;

it

might properly enough admit both the

duties and decencies of

literary speculations,

life,

but seemed not to include

and was

in

some degree

violated

ADDISON.

89

by merriment and burlesque. What had the Guardian

of the lizards to do with clubs of tall or of little men,
with ik

Of
that

of ants or with strada's prolusions

st.b

paper nothing

this

it

found

many

necessary to be said, but

is

contributors, and that

it

was

con-

same elegance and

sparkle
from a tory
some unlucky

tinuation of the Spectator, with the

the

same

paper

variety,

till

set Steele's politics

on

fire,

and wit

at

once blazed

He

was soon too hot for neutral topics,

and quitted the Guardian to write the Englishman.
The papers of Addison are marked in the Specta-

into faction.

one of the letters

tor by

Guardian, by a hand

in the

name

whether

of Clio, and in the

was, as Tickell pre-

it

tends to think, that he was unwilling to usurp the

far greater

praise of others, or, as Steele, with

likeli-

hood, insinuates, that he could not without discontent

impart to others any of

his

own.

have heard that his

avidity did not satisfy itself with the air of renown, but

that with great eagerness he laid hold on the proportion

of the profits.

Many

of these papers were

written

with powers

truly comic, with nice discrimination of characters, and

accurate observation
ation

of

from propriety; but

natural or accidental
it

was not supposed

had tried a comedy on the stage,

however Steele did not know

to

he

Steele after his

till

death declared him the aulhoi of the

devi-

that

Drummer.

This

be true by any direct

when Addison put the play into his

it was the work of a " gentlemen
company ;" and when it was received, as is con-

testimony

for

hands, he only told him,

in

the

fessed, with cold disapprobation, he

willing to claim

it.

Tickell omitted

was probably
it

less

in his collection

but the testimony of Steele, and the total silence of any

other claimant, has determined the public to assign it to

Addison, and

Vol.

II.

it is

now

printed with

his other poetry.

ADDISON.

9Q

Drummer to the

Steele carried the

wards

To

to the press,

as

itself,

for

fifty

may be added

the opinion of Steele

supplied by the [day

such

play-house, and after-

and sold the copy

guineas.

the proof

of which the characters are

Addison would have delineated, and the tenden-

cy such as Addison would have promoted.

That

it

should have been ill-received would raise wonder, did

we

not daily see the capricious distribution of theat-

rical praise.

He was

not

time an indifferent spectator of

all this

He

public affairs.

wrote as different exigencies requi-

red (in 1707,) The Jircnent State of the war, and the
necessity of

an augmentation

which however judi-

cious, being written on temporary topics and exhibiting

no peculiar powers,
turally

sunk by

its

laid hold

on no attention, and has na-

own weight

amincr,

to

which

is

employed

This canThe Whig Ki-

into neglect.

not be said of the few papers inlitled.

all

volence and humorous satire.

the force of gay male-

Of

this paper,

which

just appeared and expired, Swift remarks, with exultation, ''that

He might

it is

now down among

the

dead men.'"*

which lie
Every reader of every party,
past and ihe papers which once

well rejoice at the death of th^t

could not have killed.

since personal malice is

inflamed the nation are read only as effusions of wit,

must wish

for

more of

the

Whig ExamimT*

for

on

no occasion was the genius of Addison more vigorously exerted, and on n.onc did the superiority of his powers

moie evidently appear.

His Trial of Count Tarff,

written to expose the treaty of

commerce

with France,

lived no lunger than the question that produced

From

a torv

song

in

vogue

at the time, the

it.

burthen where

ofis,

And he that will this health di'nv,

Down among the dead men let him

lie.

H.

ADDISON.

Not long

91

was made to revive

means favourable

afterwards, an attempt

the Spectator , at a time indeed by no

to

literature,

when

new

the succession of a

family to

the throne filled the nation with anxiety, discord, and

confusion

and either the turbulence of the times or

the satiety of the readers put a stop to the publication,

after an

experiment of eighty numbers, which were

afterwards collected into an eighth volume, perhaps

more

valuable than any of those that went before

it.

Addison produced more than a fourth part, and the

other contributors are by no means unworthy of appearing as his associates. The time that had passed
during the suspension of the Spectator, though

it

had

not lessened his power of humour, seems to have increased his disposition to seriousness
of his religious to his comic papers

is

the proportion

greater than

in

the former series.

The

Spectator from

its

lished only three times a

marks were added

re-commencement, was pub-

week

to the papers.

and no discriminative

To

Addison, Tickell

has ascribed twenty-three.*

The

Spectator had

many

contributors

and Steele,

whose negligence kept him always in a hurry, when

it was his turn to furnish a paper, called loudly for the
letters, of which Addison, whose materials were more,

made

little

use

having recourse to sketches and

hints,

now renamed by

the product of his former studies, which he

viewed and completed among these* are

Tickell the Essays on Wit, those on the Pleasures of
the Imagination, and the Criticism on Milton.
:

When
throne,
dison

it

Hanover took possession of the

was reasonable to expect that the zeal of Ad-

the house of

would be

suitably rewarded.

Before the arrival

~* Numb. 556, 557, 558, 559, 561, 562, 565, 567, 568, 569, 571,
574, 575, 579, 580, 582, 583, 584, 585, 590, 592, 598 603.

ADDISON.

92
of king George,

his office to

that the quei

To
A

do

this

ite

scud notice to Hanover

was vacant.

that th< throne

would not have been

who

regency,

lary to the

!.

and was required by

w:*s so

difficult to

overwhelmed with

any

man

but

the greatness

of tee event, 2nd so distracted by choice of expression,

that ibe lords,

who could

:>nd

ordered him

readily told

not wait for the

Mr. Southwell, a

criticism, called

to

niceties of

despatch the message.

what was necessaiv

Southwell

common

in the

house,

the

clerk, in

style of

busi>,css,and valued himself upon having done what wus

too hard for Addison.

He was better qualified for the Freeholder, a paper

which he published twice a week, from Dec. 23, 1715,
to the
in

middle of the next year.

This- was undertaken

defence of the established government, sometimes

In arguwith argument and sometimes with mirth.

ment he had many equals but his humour was sinBigotry itself must be delighted
gular and matchless.
with the Tory Fox-hunter.
There are however some strokes less elegant and
;

less

decent; such as the Pretender's Journal,

one topic of ridicule

is

abuse had been employed by

Charles

i:i

which

This mode of

his poverty.

Milton

against

king

II.
" Jticob.ci

Centum, exulaatia

And Oldnrixon

viscera

marsupu

delights to tell of

regis."

some alderman

of

London that he had more money than the exiled

princess but that which might be expected from Mil;

ton's savageness or Olclmixon's

ble to the

meanness was not

suita-

ddicary of Addison.

Steele thought the

humour

of the Freeholder loo

nice "and gentle for such noisy times

and

is

resorted

ADDISON.
to

have

said, that the ministry

93

made use

when

of a lute,

they should have called for a trumpet.

This year (171 6*) he married the countess dowawhom he had solicited by a very long

ger of Warwick,

behaviour not

and anxious courtship, perhaps with

very unlike that of

and who,
with

am

sir

Roger

to his disdainful

afraid, diverted herself often

He

his passion.

said to

is

have
"

first

He

widow

by playing

known her

formed," said

by becoming
Tonson, " the design of getting that lady from the time
tutor to her son.f

when he was
what part of
or

how

mily

first

recommended

long, and in

know

into the

In

family."

he obtained the recommendation,

his life

what manner he lived in the faat first were certainly

His advances

not.

timorous, but grew bolder as his reputation and influence increased

till

at last the lady

marry him, on terms much

Turkish princess is espoused, to
to

was persuaded

like those on

whom

ported to pronounce, " Daughter,

which a

the sultan

re-

is

give thee this

man

The marriage, if uncontradicted report

made no addition to Ids happiness it
neither found them nor made them equal.
She always
remembered her own rank, and thought herself en*
for thy slave."

can be credited,

little ceremony the tutor of her

Rowe's ballad of the Despairing Shepherd is said

tided to treat with very

son.
to

have been written, either before or after marriage,

upon

this

son has

memorable pair and it is certain that Addibehind him no encouragement for ambitious
;

left

love.

The
tion,

year after (17 7) he rose to his highest eleva1

being

made

ment he might

secretary of state.
justly be

For

this

employ-

supposed qualified by long

practice of business, and by his regular ascent through

*

August

2.

-j-

Spence

ADDISON.

94

other offices

but expectation

universally confessed that

is

duties of his place.

n<

is

often disappointed

he was unequal

In the house of

it

to the

commons he could

-peak, and therefore was useless to the defence of the

government.

In the ofiice, says

Pope.* he could not

issue an order without losing his lime in quest of fine

expressions.

What

he gained in rank he

and, finding by experience his

to

solicit his dismission,

dred pounds a-year.

own

lost in credit

inability,

was forced

with a pension of fifteen hun-

His friends palliated

relin-

this

quishment, of which both friends and enemies knew

the true reason, with an account of declining health and
the necessity of recess and quiet.

He now

returned to his vocation, and began to plan

literary occupations for his future

a tragedy

on the death of Socrates

as Tickell remarks, the basis

is

life.
;

He purposed

a story of which,

narrow, and to which

There
Would however have been no want either of virtue in the
I

know

not

how

love could have been appended.

sentiments or elegance

He

engaged

in a

in

the language.

nobler work, a defence of the Chris-

which part was published after his

and he designed to have made a new poetical ver-

tian Religion^ of

death

sion of the Psalms.

These pious compositions Pope imputcdt

to a selfish

motive, upon the credit, as he owns, of Tonson

who

having quarrelled with Addison, and not loving him,

saidythat when he laid down the secretary's ofike, he
intended to take orders, and obtain a bishoprick; "for,"
I always thought him a priest in his heart."
That Pope should have thought this conjecture of
1'onson worth remembrancer is a proof, but indeed, so

said he, "

far as I

have found, the only proof, that he retained

Spencc

Spen<^

ADDISON.
some malignity from
pretended but
pected

who

it

it

no other mortal ever sus-

and Pope might have reflected, that a

had been secretary of

knew

derland

Tonson

their ancient rivalry.

guess

to

95

state in the ministry of

way

a nearer

to a bishoprick than

man
Sun-

by de-

fending religion or translating the Psalms.

It is related,

that he

had once

make

a design to

an

English dictionary, and that he considered Dr. Tillotson as the writer of highest authority.

merly sent
seller's

me

to

There was

for-

by Mr. Locker, clerk of the Leather-

company, who was eminent for cusiosity and

a collection of examples collected from Til-

literature,

lotson's

works, as Locker

said,

by Addison.

too late to be of use, so I inspected

remember

indistinctly.

it

it

It

came

but slightly, and

thought the passages too

short.

Addison, however, did not conclude his

ful studies

but relapsed,

life in

when he was near

peace-

his end, to

a political dispute.

happened

so

It

that

agitated with great

(1718-19) a controversy was

vehemence between those

asked, in the language of

cause should
their

set

them

friends

It

may be

Homer, what power

or what

of long continuance, Addison

at

and Steele.

The subject
importance. The earl

variance.

dispute was of great

of
of

Sunderland proposed an act called The Peerage Bill

by which the number of peers should be fixed, and the

king restrained from any new creation of nobility, un-

when an

less

lords

yet
is

old family should be extinct.

would naturally agree

little

now

sions of

acquainted with his

To this

the

and the king, who was

own

prerogative, and, as

well known, almost indifferent to the possesthe crown, had been

The only
who were

difficulty

not likely

persuaded

to

consent.

was found among the commons,

to approve the perpetual exclusion

96

Al)l)lM>X.

The

of themselves and their posterity.

bill therefore

was eagerly opposed, and among others by

sir

Robert

Walpole, whose speech was published.

The lords might think their dignity diminished by

improper advancements, and particularly by the introduction of twelve new peers at once, to produce a majority of

tories

in

the last

reign

enough, yet certainly

violent

on act of authority

legal,

and by no means to

be compared with that contempt of national right with

some time afterwards, by the instigation of

commons, chosen by the people for

which,

whi^gism, the

three years, chose

themselves

for

seven.

But what-

ever might be the disposition of the lords, the people

had no wish
the

!>i.l,

ford,

10 increase their

as Steele

was

to

observed

The

power.

in a letter to

tendency of

Ox-

the earl of

introduce an aristocracy; for a majority

in

the house of lords, so limited, would have been despotic

and

To

irresistible.

prevent this subversion of the ancient establish-

ment, Steele, w

iose

pen readily seconded

his political

alarm the nation, by a pamphTo this an answer was pub.

let called THe Plebeian.
tished by Addison, under the title of The Old Whig, in

passions,

which
to

it

endeavoured

to

not discovered that Steele

is

be the advocate

for the

commons.

was tnen known

Steele replied by

whether by ignorance or by

a second Plebeian; and

courtesy, confined himself to

hie question, without

personal notice of his opponent.

any

Nothing hitherto was

committed against the laws of friendship or proprieties

of decency

but controvertists cannot long retain their

The Old Whig answered the

kindness f>r each other.

Plebeian, and could not forbear

tle

whose trade

Dicky,

Dicky, however, did n

his friend

it

>t

but contented

was

some contempt of
to

write

pamph

lose his settled vein

"

lit-

<

a ion for

himself with quoting Borne

ADUiSON
lines of Catoy-ivhich

The

was

bill

laid

were

97

once detection and reproof.

at

aside during that session

son died before the next, in which

its

and Addi-

commitment was

rejected by two hundred and sixty-five to one hundred

and seventy-seven.

Every reader surely must regret that these two

and

many

friends, after so

lustrious

endearment,

in

unity of

opinion, and fellowship

plusquam

civile,'"

Such a controversy was " HelLucan expresses it.

Why

as

could not faction find other advocates

of the

uncertainties

number

Of

human

state,

but

we

are

among the
doomed to

the instability of friendship.

dispute

this

have

Addison's works, nor

why

little

knowledge but from the

The Old Whig

Eiografihia Britannica.
in

conformity of

interest,

study, should finally part in

of

acrimonious opposition.

ium

il-

years past in confidence

is

it

is

not inserted

mentioned by Tickell

in

was omitted, the biographers doubtless

the fact was too recent, and
give the true reason
those who had been heated in the contention were not
his life

it

yet cool.

The

necessity

ring persons

History

impediments of Biogt'aphv.

but lives can only be written from per-

knowledge, which

in a short time

dom

of complying with times and of spathe great

may be formed from permanent monuments

and records
sonal

is

is lost

growing every day

is

for ever.

be immediately told

What

and when

is
it

less,

and

known can

sel-

might be

told,

it is no longer known.
The delicate features of the
mind, the nice discriminations of character, and the

minute peculiarities of conduct, are soon obliterated

and it is surely, better that caprice, obstinacy, frolic,
and
tion,

folly,

however they might delight

should

in

the descrip-

be silently forgotten, than that, by wanton

merriment and unseasonable

detection, a

pang should

&

VDDISOV.

be given

widow, a d lughter, a brother, or a

to a

friend.

As the process of these narratives is now bringing me

among my cotemporaries, I begin to feel myself" walkupon ashes under which the

ing

fire

rather to

say

k*

nothing that

be proper

will

it

false,

is

not extinguish-

is

ed," and coming to the time of which

than

all

that

is

true."

The end

for

ness of breath,
sy

life was now approaching.

some time been oppressed bv shortwhich was now aggravated by a drop-

of this useful

Addison had

and, finding his danger pressing, he prepared to die

conformably

to his

own precepts and

professions.

During this lingering decay, he sent, as Pope relates,* a message by the earl of Warwick to Mr. Gay,
desiring to see him. Gay, who had not visited him for
some time before, obeyed the summons, and found himself received

with

great kindness.

which the interview had been

covered.

but that,

What

Addison
if

told

The purpose

for

was then

dis-

solicited

him, that he had injured him,

he recovered, he would recompense him.

the injury was he did not explain

nor did

Gay

ever know, but supposed that some preferment design-

ed

for

him had, by Addison's

intervention, been with-

held.

Lord Warwick was a young man of very irregular

life,

and perhaps of loose opinions.

Addison,

for

whom

he did not want respect, had very diligently endeavour-

ed

reclaim him

to

tions

had no

directed the

told

but his arguments and expostula-

One

experiment, however, remain-

when he found his life near its end, he

young lord to be called and when he de-

ed to be tried

iiei),

effect.
:

with great tenderness, to hear his

him,"

have sent for you, that you

Spcncc.

last

injunctions,

may

see

how

ADDISON.

What

can die."

christian

on the

earl, I

know

not

99

awful scene had

effect this

he likewise died himself in a

short time.

In Tickell's excellent elegy on his friend are these

lines.

He taught us how to live and oh

The price of knowledge taught
;

in

which he

lication of his

bed

too high

us

how to

Dr. Foung,

alludes, as he told

ing interview.
Having given directions to

Mr. Tickell

die

to this

for the

movpub-

works, and dedicated them on his death-

Mr. Craggs, he died June

to his friend

17, 1719, at

Holland-house, leaving no child but a daughter.*

Of his

virtue

it is

a sufficient testimony that the re-

sentment of party has transmitted no charge of any

He

crime.

after death

was not one of those who are praised only

was so generally acknowledg-

for his merit

ed, that Swift, having observed that his election passed

without a contest, adds, that,

if

he proposed himself

he would hardly have been refused.

for king,

His zeal for his party did not extinguish his kindness for the merit of his opponents

when he was

se-

cretary in Ireland, he refused to intermit his acquaint-

ance with Swift.

Of

his

habits, or external

ten mentioned as that

which

manners, nothing

is

so of-

timorous or sullen taciturnity

his friends called

modesty by too mild

name.

Steele mentions with great tenderness " that remarkable bashfulness, which

is

cloak that hides and muf-

were coverand
ed only by modesty, which doubles the beauties which

fles merit ;"

Who

tells us, " that his abilities

died at Bilton, in Warwickshire,

at

a very

age, 1797. See Cent. Mag. vol. LXVII. p. 256. 385.

advanced
N.

ADDISON.

100

are seen, and gives credit and esteem to

that are con-

all

cealed." Chesterfield affirms, that " Addison was the

most timorous and aukward man that he ever saw."

And Addison, speaking

versation, used

own

of his

deficjence in con-

to say of himself, that, with

intellectual " wealth, he could

draw

pounds, though he hud not a guinea

That he wanted current coin

respect to

bills for a

in his

thousand

pocket."

ready payment, and

for

by that want was often obstructed and distressed

that

he was often oppressed by an improper and ungraceful

timidity

every testimony concurs to prove

but Ches-

That

terfield's representation is doubtless hyperbolical.

man

supposed very inexpert

cannot be

conversation and practice of

life,

who, without fortune

or alliance, by his usefulness and dexterity,

of state

cretary

and who died

having not only stood long

and literature, but

filled

at

the

in

of

in the arts

became

se-

forty-seven, after

highest rank

of wit

one of the most important

offi-

ces of state.

The

time

in

which be

obstinacy of silence
all

men

in

lived

that talent called

such perfection, that

had reason

to

lament his

" for he was," says Steele, " above

humour, and enjoyed

it

in

have often reflected, alter a night

spent with him apart from

all

the world, that

had the

pleasure of conversing with an intimate acquaintance of

Terence and Catullus, who had all their wit and nature,
heightened with humour more exquisite anJ delightful
than any other
ness of

man

a friend, let

ever possessed."
us hear what

is

This

is

the fond,

told us by a

rival

" Addison's conversation,"* says Pope, " had something

in

it

Hut

mote charming than I have found in any other man.

was only when familiar; before strangers, or,

this

perhaps,

a single

stranger, he preserved his dignity* by

a itiff silence.?'

Pp..

'

ADDISON.

101

This modesty was by no means inconsistent with a

own merit. He demanded to

modern wit ; and, with Steele to
echo him, used to depreciate Dryden, whom Pope and
Congreve defended against them.* There is no reason
very high opinion of his

be the

to

first

name

in

much

doubt that he suffered too

pain from the pre-

valence of Pope's poetical reputation

nor

is it

with-

out strong reason suspected, that by some disingenu-

ous acts he endeavoured to obstruct

it

Pope was not

man whom he insidiously injured, though the

only man of whom he could be afraid.
His own powers were such as might have satisfied
Of very extensive
him with conscious excellence.

the only

He seems

learning he has indeed given no proofs.

to

have had small acquaintance with the sciences, and to

have read

little

except Latin and French

but of the

Latin poets his dialogues on medals shew that he had

perused the works with great diligence and

abundance of

his

own mind

adventitious sentiments

him

skill.

The

in

need of

his wit always could

suggest

left

what the occasion demanded.

He

little

had read with

human

eyes the important volume of

life,

critical

and

knew

the heart of man, from the depths of stratagem to the

surface of affectation.

What he knew he could easily communicate.

says Steele,

he had taken

he designed
dictate

it

was particular

"This,"

in this writer, that,

his resolution, or

made

his plan for

when
what

he would walk about a room, and

into language with as much freedom and ease
to write,

as any one could write

it down, and attend

herence and grammer of what he dictated."

Pope,t who can be

*

suspected of favouring his

less

Tonson and Spencer

f Spence.

Vol. IL

to the co-

ADDISON.

102

memory,

declares that he wrote very fluently, but was

slow and scrupulous in correcting

spectators were written very
ly to the

press

and that

He would

"

much

that

many

of his

and sent immediate-

seemed

it

tage not to have time for

fast,

to be for his

advan-

revisal.

Pope," any thing to please

but would not retouch
his pieces afterwards
and I believe not one word in
Cato to which I made an objection was suffered to
alter," says

his friends, before publication

stand."

The

last line

of Cato

Pope's having been origi-

is

nally written.

And oh

'twas this that

ended Cato's

life.

Pope might have made more objections to the si x

In the first couplctthc words" from
lines.
hence" are improper and the second line is taken
concluding

Of

from Dryden's Virgil.

the next couplet, the

verse, being included in the second,

less

Of
his

and
the

in the third

discord

is

is

made

to

first

therefore use-

produce

strife.

course of Addison's familiar day,* before

maniage, Pope has given

He

a detail.

had

in

chief companions were Steele, Budged, Philips,

Oavenant, and

col. Brett.

he always breakfasted.

With one

He

studied

the

His

house with him Budgell, and perhaps Philips.

Cany,

or other of these

all

morning, then

dined at a tavern, and went afterwards to Button's.

Button had been a servant

in the

countess of

War-

wick's family, who, under the patronage of Addison,

kept a coffee-house on the south side of Russell-street,

Here
about two doors from Covent-gardcn.
It is
the wits of that time used to assemble.

it

was

said,

that

when

Addison had suffered any vexation from the countess,

he withdrew the company from Button's house.

Bjpeooe.

ADDTSON.

103

the coffee-house he went again to a tavern,

From
where he

often sat late, and drank too

courage, and bashfulness

Addison was

likely that

much

for confidence.

first

the presence of those to

In

It is

not un-

seduced to excess by the

manumission which he obtained from the

dity of his sober hours.

wine.

comfort, cowardice for

the bottle, discontent seeks for

servile timi-

He that feels oppression from

whom he knows himself su-

perior will desire to set loose his powers of conversation

and who that ever asked succours from Bacchus

was able

himself from being enslaved by

to preserve

his auxiliary

Among

those friends

it

was

that

Addison displayed

the elegance of his colloquial accomplishments, which

may easily be supposed such as Pope represents them.

The remark of Mandeville, who, when he had passed
an evening in his company, declared that he was a par-

can detract little from his character

he was always reserved to strangers, and was not incited to uncommon freedom by a character like that of

son in a tye-wig,

Mandeville.

From any minute knowledge

the intervention of sixty

Steele once promised

of his familiar manners,

years has

plete description of his character

at

last

us.

but the promises of

authors are like the vows of lovers.

more on

now debarred

Congreve and the public a com-

his design, or

thought on

disgusted him, and

Steele thought no
it

with anxiety that

his friend in the

left

hands

of Tickell.

One
served.

slight
It

lineament of his character Swift has pre-

was

his practice,

when he found any man

invincibly wrong, to flatter his opinions by acquiescence

and sink him yet deeper

in absurdity.

mischief was admired by Stella

prove her admiration.

This

artifice

and Swift seems

of

to ap-

ADDISON.

104

His works

from

supply some information.

will

It

appears*

his various pictures of the world, that, with all his

Ikhad convened with many distinct classmen, had surveyed their ways with very diligent

bash fulness,
es of

observation, and mai ked with great aruteness the efa man in whose
was out of danger
quick in discerning whatever was wrong or ridiculous,
" There are," says
and not unwilling to expose it.
Steele, " in his wi kings many oblique strokes upon
some of the wittiest men of the age." His delight was
fects of different

presence

more

to

modes

nothing

of

He was

life.

reprehensible

excite merriment than detestation; and he de-

tects follies rather than crimes.

If

anv judgment be made, from

books, of his

his

mo-

character, nothing will be found but purity and ex-

ral

Knowledge of mankind, indeed,

cellence.

less extensive

than that of Addison, will shew, that to write, and to live,

Many who

are very different.

than praise

Yet

it.

it is

praise virtue do no

professions and practice

dison's

more*

reasonable to believe that

were

at

Ad-

no great vari-

ance, since, amidst that storm of faction in which most

of his

life

was passed, though

spicuous and

his

character given

activity

his station

made him

made him

con-

formidable, the

hira by his friends was never contra-

dicted by his enemies

of those with

whom

interest or

opinion united him he had not only the esteem, but the

kindness; and of others,

tion

whom

the violence of opposi-

drove against him, though he might lose the love,

he retained the reverence.

It

is

justly

observed by Tickcll,

wit on the side of virtue

and

religion.

that

He

he employed
not only

made

to others

the proper use of wit himself, but taught it

it has been generally subservient to
;

and from his time

He has dissipated the

and of truth.
had long connected gaby with vice and

the cavisc of reason

prejudice

tl^at

'

ADDISON.
manners with

easiness of

restored virtue to
to

be ashamed.
" above

ter,

all

105

He

laxity of principles.

has*

dignity, and taught innocence not

its

This is an elevation of literary characGreek, above all Roman, fame." No

genius attain than that of having

greater felicity can

purified intellectual pleasure, separated mirth from in-

decency, and wit from licentiousness, of having taught

a succession of writers to bring elegance and gaiety to
the aid of goodness

more

and,

if I

may use
many to

awful, of having " turned

Addison, in his

a greater part of readers as

both in poetry and criticism.

ly excelling

reputation

and for some time afterwards,

life,

was considered by

expressions yet

righteousness."

may be

supreme-

Part of his

probably ascribed to the advance-

ment of his fortune when, as Swift observes, he became a statesman, and saw poets waiting at his levee,
it was no wonder that Upraise was accumulated upon
Much likewise may be more honourably ascribed
him.
;

to his personal character

he who,

if

he had claimed

might have obtained the diadem, was not

likely to

it,

be

denied the laurel.

But time quickly puts an end to artificial and accifame and Addison is to pass through futurity
protected only by his genius.
Every name which kind-

dental

ness or interest once raised too high

in

is

the next age should, by the vengeance

sink

in

it

the same proportion.

lately styled
critic

him " an

lest

great writer has

indifferent poet and

worse

"

His poetry

is first to

be confessed that
tion

danger,

of criticism,

it.

is

which give lustre

be considered

not

of which

it

must

often those felicities of dic-

to sentiments, or that

sentiment that animates diction

dour, vehemence, or transport

vigour of
of ar-

there

is

little

there

is

very rarely

the awfulness of grandeur, and not very often the spleni

ADDISON

i06

He

dour of elegance.

This

faintly.
less,

many

Yet,

is

thinks justly; but he thinks

his general character

He

tangled in absurdity.
to

sitions a

more

still

is

is in

rarely en-

powers
most of his compo-

did not trust

There

be negligent.

his

calmness and equability, deliberate and cau-

sometimes with

tious,

which, doubt-

to

he seldom reaches supreme excellence, he

if

rarely sinks into dullness, and

enough

single passages will furnish exception.

little

seldom

that delights, but

with any thing that offends.

Of this

kind seem

to

mcrs, and the king.

be his poems to Dryden,

His ode on

St.

imitated by Pope, and has something in

vigour.

Of his

his usual stiain.

his character of

it

of Dryden's

He

it is

not worse than

has said, not very judiciously, in

Waller,

Thy verse could shew e*'n Cromwell's innocence

And compliment the storms that bore him hence.

So-

account of the English poets, he used

speak as a " poor thing ;"* but

to

to

Cecilia has been

had thy Muse not come an are too soon,

But seen great Nassau on the British throne,

How had his triumph glitter'd in thy page
!

What

is this

but to say, that he

who would compli-

ment Cromwell had been the proper poet for king

William ? Addison, however, never printed the piece.
The letter from Italy has been always praised, but
It is more
has never been praised beyond its merit.
correct, with less appearance of labour, and more elegant, with less ambition of ornament, than any other of
his

poems.

There is, however, one broken metaphor,

may properly be taken:

of which notice

Fir'd with that

name

bridk n mv Struggling Muse with pain,

That longs to launch into a nobler strain.

Spcncc

ADDISON.

107

To bridle a goddess is no very delicate idea but why

must N she be bridled? because she longs to launch ; an
act which was never hindered by a bridle : and whither
She is in the first
will she launch ? into a nobler strain.
;

line

a horse, in the second a boat

poet

is

The

to

keep

his horse or his boat

next composition

and the care of the

from singing.

the far-famed campaign,

is

which Dr. Warton has termed a " Gazette

rhyme,"

in

with harshness not often used by the good-nature of his

criticism.

Before a censure so severe

us consider that war

and then inquire who has described

ness and force.

Many

powers upon

year of victory

performance

his

this

fessedly the best

man

of a

is

admitted,

let

a frequent subject of poetry,

is

it

own

of our

more

with

just-

writers tried their

yet Addison's

poem

not blinded by the dust of learning

ges are not borrowed merely from books.

is

con-

the work,

is
;

his

The

ima-

supe-

which he confers upon his hero is not personal

prowess, and " mighty bone," but deliberate intrepidi-

riority

calm command of

ty,

consulting his

own mind

his passions,
in

and the power of

the midst of danger.

The

contempt of fiction is rational and manly

be observed that the last line is imitated by

rejection and
It

may

Pope.
Marlb'rough's exploits appear divinely bright
Rais'd of themselves their genuine charms they boast,

And

those that paint them truest, praise

them most.

This Pope had in his thoughts; but not knowing how

use what was not his own, he spoiled the thought
when he had borrowed it
to

The

He

well-sung woes shall sooth

best can paint*

* " Paint"
them.

C,

means

them who
(says

Dr.

my pensive

shall feel

ghost

them most.

Warton) express or

deseribe

ADDISOX.
Martial exploits may be fainted ; perhaps woes may be
/mimed ; but they are surely not haintcd by being well>>u7ig

not easy to paint in song, or to sing in co-

is

it

lours.

Xo

passage

the

in

campaign has been more

mentioned than the simile of the angel, which

is

often

said in

the Tatler to be " one of the noblest thoughts that ever

entered into the heart of man," and

Let

of attentive consideration.
ther

be a simile.

it

it

is

be

therefore worthy

first

poetical simile

is

inquired whethe discovery

of likeness between two actions, in their general nature

dissimilar,

operations

in

or

of

causes terminating by different

some resemblance of

mention of another

like

or of a like performance by a like agency,

le,

but an exemplification.

the

Thames

that

waters

Po waters

as the

fields,

not a simi-

is

not a simile to say that

It is

fields

or

as llccla vomits flames in Iceland, so .Etna vomits

flames

in Sicily.

pours

his

When

Horace says of Pindar,

violence and rapidity

of

verse, as

swoln with rain rushes from the mountain

self,

But the

effect.

consequence from a like cause,

that

rations,

his

genius wanders

as the

in

he

or of him-

quest of poetical deco-

bee wanders to collect honey

either case, produces a simile

that

a rive;-

the mind

is

he, in

impressed

with the resemblance of things generally unlike, as un-

But

like as intellect and body.

scribed

if

Pindar had been de-

as writing with the copiousness and

grandeur of

Homer, or Horace had told that he reviewed and finished his own poetry with the same care as Isocrates polished

his orations, instead of similitude, he

exhibited almost identity

same

portraits with different

would have

he would have given the

names.

In the

poem now

examined, when the English arc represented as gaining

a fortified pass, by

repetition of attack, and persever-

ance of resolution, their obstinacy of courage and vigour

ADDISON.
f onset

is

109

well illustrated by the ssa that breaks, with

incessant battery, the, dikes of Holland.

This is a simile

when Addison, having celebrated the beauty of

but

Marlborough's person, tells us, that " Achilles thus

was formed with every grace," here is no simile, but a

mere

exemplification.

lines

converging at a point, and

simile

may be compared
is

more

the lines approach from greater distance

fication

may be

to

excellent as

an exempli-

considered as two parallel lines which

run on together without approximation, never far separated, and never joined.

Marlborough

is

both

in

so like the angel in the

poem,

that

almost the same, and performed by

the same manner.
Marlborough " teaches the

the action of both

is

battle to rage ;" the angel " directs the

storm :" Marlborough is " unmoved in peaceful thought ;" the angel
is " calm and serene :" Marlborough stands " unmoved
amidst the shock of hosts ;" the angel rides " calm in
the whirlwind."

and noble

The

lines

on Marlborough are just

but the simile gives almost the same image?

a 3econd time.

But perhaps

this thought, though hardly a simile,

from vulgar conceptions, and required

was remote

great labour of research or dexterity of application.

this

Dr. Madden, a

name which

Of

Ireland ought to ho-

nour, once gave me his opinion. " If I had set," said

he, u ten school-boys to write on the battle of Blenheim,

and eight had brought

me

the angel,

should not have

been surprised."

The opera
tioned,

The

is

of Rosamond, though

one of the

subject

is

first

it

is

seldom men-

of Addison's compositions.

well chosen, the fictions

is

pleasing, and

the praise of Marlborough, for which the scene gives

an opportunity,

is,

what perhaps every human excel-

lence must be, the product of good luck, improved by

ADDISON*.

110

The

genius.

times tender

lines,

is

easy and gay.

in

the

the versification

some advantage

doubtless

is

thoughts arc sometimes great, and some-

which there

pletive epithets.

than the songs.

is little

There

shortness of the

temptation to load with ex-

The dialogue seems commonly better

The two comic characters of sir Trusty

and (irideline, though of no great value, are yet such

as the poet intended.* Sir Trusty's account of the death

of Rosamond is, I think, too

drama is airy and elegant

and pleasing

in

engaging

conclusion.

its

The whole

grossly absurd.
;

in

process,

its

Addison had

If

culti-

vated the lighter parts of poetry, he would probably

have excelled.

The
served

tragedy of Cato, which, contrary to the rule obin selecting the

weight of
lection,

is

Of

way

by the

poets, has

into the late col-

production

of

work so much read, it is diffisay any thing new.

About things on which the

public thinks long,

and of Cato
is

its

unquestionably the noblest

Addison's genius.
cult to

works of other

character forced

its

rather a

it

commonly

it

think right

attains to

has been not unjustly determined, that

poem

dialogue than

in

it

a drama, rather a

succession of just sentiments in elegant language, than

representation of natural affections, or of any state

probable or possible
cites or assuages

in

human

emotion

:"

life.

here

is

Nothing here "exu no magical power

of raising phunustic terror or wild anxiety."

are expected without solicitude, and

without joy or sorrow.

we

agents

The

events

remembered

we have no

care

consider not what they arc doing or what they are

suffering;
say.

'

Of the

are

Cato

wc with
is

Hut, according

tended."

C,

only to

know what they have

a being above our solicitude

to Dr.

Wtlton, " oug-ht not

to

man
haye

to

of

in-

Addison.

whom

the gods take care, and

care with heedless confidence.

til

whom we leave to their

To the rest neither gods

men can nave much attention for there is not one

amongst them that strongly attracts either affection or
esteem.
But they are made the vehicles of such senti-

nor

ments and such expression, that there

scarcely a

is

does not wish to

scene in the play which the reader

impress upon his memory.

When

Cato was shewn

author to print

supposing that

it

advised the

Pope.* he

to

without any theatrical exhibition

it,

would be read more {avourably than

Addison declared himself of the same opinion

heard.

but urged the importunity of his friends for

The emulation

ance on the- stage.

successful beyond expectation

and

among

troduced or confirmed

its

of parties

appear-

made

it

success ha* in-

its

us the use of dialogue

too declamatory, of unaffecting elegance, and chill phi-

losophy.

The

universality of applause,

the censure of

common

however

it

might quell

mortals, had no other effect

than to harden Dennis in fixed dislike but his dislike

was not merely capricious. He found and shewed many
faults
he shewed them indeed with anger, but he
found them with acuteness, such as ought to rescue his
though, at last, it wili have no
criticism from oblivion
:

other

life

than

it

work which

derives from the

it

en-

deavours to oppress.

Why

he pays no regard

to the opinion of the audi-

ence, he gives his reason, by remarking, that,

"
deference is to be paid to a general applause,

when

it

taneous
it is

appears that the applause

but that

little

regard

affected and artificial.

Of

Spence.

is

is to

all

natural and spon-

be had

to

it,

when

the tragedies which

vl)l)I90.\*.

11?

memory

hss

had vasi and violeni runs, not one

lutve

has been excellent, few have been tolerable, most have

When

been scandalous.

a poet writes a tragedy,

who

knows he has judgment, and who feels he has genius,

that poet presumes upon his own merit, and scorns to
make a cabal. That people come coolly to the representation of such a tragedy, without any violent expec-

or delusive imagination, or invincible

tation,

session

such an audience

that

prepos-

liable to receive the

which the poem

impressions

them, and

is

to

shall naturally make on

judge by their own reason, and their own

judgments, and that reason and judgment arc calm and

serene, not formed by nature
to control

and lord

it

to

make

proselytes, and

over the imaginations of others.

But that when an author writes a tragedy, who knows

he has neither genius err judgment, he has recourse to
the making a party, and he endeavours to make up in
industry what

is

wanting

craft the

poetical

in talent,

and to supply by

absence of poetical art

humbly contented

that such an

men's passions by
a plot Avithout doors, since he despairs of doing it by
That party, and
that which he brings upon the stage.
author

is

passion,

and

tuous things,

to raise

prepossession, are clamorous and tumul-

and

so

much

the

more clamorous and

tumultuous by how much the more erroneous that

they domineer and tyrannize over the imaginations of
persons who want judgment, and sometimes too of
:

who have it and like a fierce and outrageous

torrent, bear down all opposition before them."
those

He
which

then condemns the neglect of poetical justice;

is

always one of his favourite principles.

'Tis ceitainly the duty of every tragic poet, by the

exact

distribution of

divine

dispensation;

dence

poetical justice,

to imitate the

and to inculcate a particular provi-

'Tis true, indeed,

upon the stage of the world,

ADDISON.

113

the wicked sometimes prosper, and the guiltless suffer.

But

by the govenor of the world,

that is permitted

shew, from the attribute of his

there

a compensation in

is

mortality of the

human

infinite justice,

to

that

prove the im-

futurity, to

and the certainty of future

soul,

But the poetical persons

rewards and punishments.

in tragedy exists no longer than the reading or the re-

presentation

the whole extent of their enmity

cumscribed by those

is

cir-

and therefore, during that read=

ing or representation, according to their merits or demerits, they

must be punished or rewarded.

not done, there

justice,

is

If this is

no impartial distribution of poetical

no instructive lecture of a particular providence,

And

and no imitation of the divine dispensation.

yet

the author of this tragedy does not only run counter to

this, in

the fate of his principal character

where, throughout

triumph

makes

it,

Cato

for not only

is

but every

virtue suffer, and vice

vanquished by Caesar, but

the treachery, and perfidiousness of

Syphax prevail over

the honest simplicity and the credulity of Juba

and the

and dissimulation of Portius over the generous frankness and open-heartedness of Marcus."
sly subtilty

Whatever pleasure

there

may be

in

seeing

crimes

punished, and virtue rewarded, yet, since wickedness

often prospers in real

berty to give

it

life,

the poet

has an imitation of reality,

how

exhibiting the world in

true form

sometimes

is

certainly at

li-

For if poetry
laws broken by

prosperity on the stage.

gratify

its

our wishes

are

its
?

but, if

The
it

stage

may

be truly the

" mirror of life,'* it ought to shew us sometimes what

are to expect.

we

Dennis objects

to the characters, that they

natural, or reasonable

not beings that are seen every day,

upon what principles

Vol. II.

are not

but as heroes and heroines are

it

is

their conduct shall

hard to find

be

tried.

It

ADDISON.

11

is,

however, not useless

manner

in

to consider

what he says of the

which Cato receives the account of

his son's

death.

" Nor is the

more in nature

grief of Cato, in the fourth act, one jot

than that of his son and Lucia in the

Cato receives the news of

third.

his

son's death not

only with dry eyes, hut with a sort of satisfaction

and

same page sheds tears for the calamity Of his

country, and does the same thing in the next page upon

in the

of the danger of his

the bare apprehension

Now,

since the love of one's country

countrymen, as

friends.

the love of one's

have shewn upon another occasion,

desire to ask these questions

which do we love most, those

whom we know

is

not

And

of

all

our countrymen,

whom we know, or those

whom we know,

of those

which do we cherish most, our friends or our enemies ?

And of our friends, which are the dearest to us, those
;

who

are related to us, or those

who

are not?

And

of

all

which have we most tenderness, for

those who are near to us, or for those who are remote
And of our near relations, which arc the nearest,

our

relations, for

and consequently the dearest to

others

Our

us,

offspring most certainly

our offspring, or
;

as nature, or, in

other words, Providence, has wisely contrived for the

preservation of mankind.

what has been

of his son's death with

same time

Now, does it not follow from

man to receive the news
dry eyes, and to weep the

said, that for a

for the calamities of his country, is a

affectation, and a miserable inconsistency

wretched

Is not

that

in plain English, to receive with dry eyes the news of

the deaths of those for whose sake our country is a name

same time to shed tears for

whose sakes our countrv is not a name so dear

so dear to us, and at the

those for
to us

,'<
(

ADDISON.

But

this

formidable assailant

115

is less

resistable

when

he atiacks the probability of the action, and the reasonEvery critical reader must reableness of the plan.

mark, that Addison has, with a scrupulosity almost unexampled on the English stage, confined himself in
time to a single day, and

The

in

place to rigorous unity.

scene never changes, and the whole action of the

play passes in the great hall of Cato's house at Ulica.

Much

therefore

place would be

is

done in the

more

fit

hall, for

which any other

and this impropriety affords

Dennis many hints of merriment, and opportunities of

The passage is long but as such disquisitions

triumph.
are not

common, and

the objections are skilfully form-

ed and vigorously urged, those who delight

controversy will not think

"Upon

it

in critical

tedious.

makes
comes Syphax,

the departure of Fortius, Sempronius

but one soliloquy, and immediately

and then the two politicians are

at

it

in

immediately.

They

lay their heads together, with their snuff-boxes in their

hands, as Mr. Bayes has

it

and feague

it

away.

Syphax seems
Sempronius :

the midst of that wise scene,

seasonable caution to
" Syph. But is

it

true, Sempronius, that

Is called together?'

Gods

your senate

thou must be cautious

But, in

to give a

Cato has piercing eyes.

a There

meeting

is

a great deal of caution

governor's

own

shewn indeed,

in

on their plot
against him.
Whatever opinion they have of his eyes,
I suppose they have none of his ears, or they would
in a

never have talked

" Gods

"

Oh

hall to carry

at this foolish rate so

near

thou must be cautious

yes, very cautious

for if

Cato should overhear

ABtt!ON.

lib"

you, and turn you off for politicians, Caesar would never
take you

"
hall,

no, Caesar

When

would never take you.

Cato, act

II.

turns the senators out of the

upon pretence of acquainting Juba with the

of their debates, he appears to

is

neither reasonable nor

me

to

result

do a thing which

Juba might certainly

civil.

have better been made acquainted with the result of

that debate in some private apartment of the palace.

But the poet was driven upon this absurdity to make

and that is, to give Juba an opportufor another

way

nity to

demand Marcia

of her father.

and rage of Juba and Syphax,

vectives of

Syphax against

in

the

the

But the quarrel

same act the in;

Romans and Cato

advice that he gives Juba, In her father's

hall,

to

the

bear

away Marcia by force and his brutal and clamorous

rage upon his refusal, and at a time when Cato was
;

scarcely out of sight, and perhaps not out of hearing,

some of

at least

sarily

his

guards or Domestics must neces-

be supposed to be within hearing:

is

a thing that

from being probable, that it is hardly possible.

" Semprr mus, in the second act, conies back once
more in the smic morning to the governor's hall, to
carry on the conspiracy with Syphax against the gowhich is so stupid
vernor, his country and his family
is

so far

that

it

is

below the wisdom of the

's,

the

Mac's,

and the Teague's; even Eustace Commins himself

would never have gone to justice-hall, to have conspirIf officers at Portsmouth
d against the government.
i

should lay their heads together,

ing off* J

Ci's

in

order to the carry-

niece or daughter, would they meet

The person meant by

the

initials

.1

(..

lieutenant governor of Portsmouth in the

terwards, lie was

much beloved

*>ldiers called Johnnt/ Gibson

in

1!

is

sir

John Gibson,

year 1710,

the ar:ny, an J by the

an>l

af-

common

ADDISON.

JG*s

in

came

they

till

on that conspiracy

hall to carry

would be no necessity

lit

There

meeting there,

for their

to the execution

at least

of their plot, because

meet in. There would

be no probability that they should meet there, because
there would be places, more private and more commothere would be no other places to

dious.

Now

there ought to be nothing in a tragical ac-

tion but

what

is

necessary or probable.

" But treason

this hall

in

turns in
bility

is

that,

not the only thing that

that

carried on
their

without any manner of necessity or proba-

it,

occasioned by the action, as duly and as regularly,

without interrupting one another, as

triple

is

and love, and philosophy, take

if

there

were a

league between them, and a mutual agreement

each should give place

to,

and

make way

for,

due and orderly succession.

now come to the third act. Sempronius,

the

other, in a

"
act,

We

comes

the mutiny

who

in this

the governor's hall, with the leaders of

into

but, as soon as

Cato

but just before had acted

is

like

gone, Sempronius

an unparalleled

knave, discovers himself, like an egregious fool to be

an accomplice
" Semp.

To mix

in

Know,

the conspiracy.

villians,

when such

paltry slaves

presume

in treason, if the plot succeeds,

They're thrown neglected by

but,

if it fails,

They're sure to die like dogs, as you shall do.

Here, take these factious monsters, drag them forth

To sudden death
" Tis true, indeed, the second leader says, there are

none there but friends

juncture

Can

but

is

that possible at such a

a parcel of rogues attempt to assassi-

nate the governor of a town of war, in his

in

mid-day

own house,

and, after they are discovered, and defeat

k 2

ADDISON

118

them but

ed, can there be none near

plain,

friends

Is

it

not

from these words of Sempronius,

" Here, take these factious monsters, drag- them forth

To sudden death
"

And from the

command,

entrance of the guards upon the word

guards were within ear-shot

Behold Scmproius then palpably discovered. How
comes it to puss, then, that instead of being hanged up
of

with the

rest,

that those

he remains secure

and there carries on

his

ment, the third time

in

the governor's hall,

conspiracy against

in

the

same

the govern-

day, which his old

comrade Syphax, who enters at the same time that the

guards are earring away the leaders, big with the news
of the defeat of Sempronius
though where he had his
intelligence so soon is difficult to imagine
And now
;

the

reader

there

is

may expect

not abundance of spirit indeed, nor a great deal

of passion, but there

supply
Syph.
Still

My

a very extraordinary scene

is

wisdom more than enough

to

all defects.

Our

first

design,

there remains an

my friends,

has prov'd abortive

..ftcr-ifanic to

play

troops are mounted, their Numidian steeds

Snuff up the winds, and long to scour the desert.

Let hut Sempronius lead us in OUT flight,

We'll force the gate, where Marcus keeps his guard,

And hew down

all

that

would oppose our passage

day will bring us into Cxsar's camp.

" Semp. Confusion! I have failed of half may purpose;

Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind.
**

Well

failed of,

but though he tells us the half purpose he has

he docs not

tell

us the half that he has carried.

But what does he mean by

Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind

.'

ADDISON.
o

He

now

is

119

own house

in her

we have

and

neither

seen her, nor heard of her, any where else since the

But now

play began.

us hear Syphax:

let

" What hinders then, but that you find

And hurry her away by manly force

her out,

u But what does

They talk as if
in a frosty

"
"

Oh

she

finding her out

she were as hard to be found as a hare

morning.
But how

Se7np.

Syphax mean by

old

to gain admission

found out then,

is

it

seems.

But how to gain admission for access

Is given to none, but Juba and her brothers.
!

why

" But raillery apart,

owned and received

access to Juba

as a

Well but

nor by the daughter.

Numidian, abounding

stratagem for admission

" Syph.

The

Thou

shalt

doors will open

Seems

in

Syphax

let that pass.

puts Sempronius out of pain immediately

a

For he was

lover neither by the father

wiles,

supplies

and, being

him

with a

that, I believe, is a non-pareille.

have Juba's dress, and Juba's guards.

when Numidia's prince

to appear before them.

" Sempronius
at Cato's house,

seems, to pass for Juba in full day

where they were both so very well

is, it

known, by having Juba's dress and his guards ; as if one

of the marshals of France could pass for the duke of
Bavaria

and

at

Sempronius
in a

robe

noon-day, at Versailles, by having his dress

liveries.

to

But how does Syphax pretend to help

young Juba's dress ? Does he serve him

double capacity, as a general and master of his ward?

But why Juba's guards

guards has Juba appeared with

For the
yet.

devil of

Well

any

though

ADDI90N.

12U

this is a mighty politic invention, yet, methinks, they

might have done without it for, since the advice that
;

Spyhax gave
"

"

in

To

to

Sempronius was,

hurry her away by manly force,

my

opinion, the shortest and likeliest

way

coming

oi

at the lady was by demolishing, instead of putting on

But Sempronius,

slaves.

two or three

disguise to circumvent

an impertinent

it

seems,

is

of another opinion.

lie extols to the skies the invention of old

" Sernp. Heavens

"

Now

good as

my

what a thought was there

appeal to the reader

Did

word.

not

before him a very wise scene

" But now

let

tell

have not been as

him, that

would

lay

us lay before the reader that part of the

may shew

scenery of the fourth act which

ties

if

Syphax

which the author has run

into

creet observance of the unity of place.

the absurdi-

through the
I

indis-

do not remem-

ber that Aristotle has said any thing expressly concern'Tis true, implicitly he has said

ing the unity of place.

enough

in the

chorus.

rules

which he has

making

For, by

laid

down

for the

the chorus an essential part

of tragedy, and by bringing

it

on the stage immediately

after the opening of the scene, and retaining

it till

the

very catastrophe, he has so determined and fixed the

place of action, that it was impossible for an author on

break through that unity.

the Grecian stage

to

of opinion, that

modern

if

am

tragic poet can preserve the

unity of place without destroying the probability of the

incidents,

'tis

always best for him to doit

the preserving of that unity, as

because, by

we have taken

notice

above, he adds grace, and clearness, and comliness, to

the representation.
But since there are no express
rules about

it

and we arc under no compulsion

to

keep

ADDISON.

we have no

1?1

chorus as the Grecian poet had,

it,

since

it

cannot be preserved without rendering the greater

part |of the incidents

absurd, and

and

unreasonable

perhaps sometimes monstrous,

if

certainly better to

'tis

break it.
" Now comes bully Sempronius, comically accoutred and equipped with his Numidian dress and his

Numidian guards. Let the reader

his ears

all

" Semp.

"

The deer

Now

would

lodged, since

is

attend to

him

with

words of the wise are precious

for the

lodg'd, I've

fain

we have

track'd her to her covert

know why

this

deer

is

said to

be

word since the play

not heard one

out of harbour and if we conwhich she and Lucia begin the

act, we have reason to believe that they had hardly been
talking of such matters in the street.
However, to

began, of her being

at all

sider the discourse with

pleasure Sempronius,

deer

let

us suppose, for once, that the

lodged.

is

" The deer

lodg'd, I've track'd her to her covert. "

is

" If he had seen her

open

in the

field,

what occasion

had he to track her, when he had so many Numidian

dogs at
set

his heels,

which, with one halloo, he might have

upon her haunches,?

Tf

he did not see her

in the

how could he possibly track her ? If he had

seen her in the street, why did he not set upon her in

open

field,

the street, since through the street she must be carried

at last

on

Now

here, instead of having his thoughts up-

his business

and upon the present danger; instead

how he shall pass with

of meditating and contriving

his mistress

through the southern

certainly

gate,

(where her

upon the sruard, and where he would

prove an impediment to him,) which is the

brother Marcus

is

ADDISON.

132

Roman word

for the

Sempronius

entertaining himself with wnimsies:

" Srmp.

is

How

His mistress

will the

lost! If

baggage

instead of doing this,

young Xumidian rave

aught could glad

my

to see

soul,

Beyond the enjoyment of so bright a prize,

"Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian.
But hark what noise Death to my hopes 'tis he,
'Tis .luba's self! There is but one way left
He must be murdered, and a passage cut
!

Through those

his guards.

n Pray, what are those his guards

thought

pre-

at

guards had been Sempronius's

sent, that Juba's

tools,

and had been dangling after his heels.

" But now let us sum up all these absurdities together.

Sempronius goes

at

noon-day, in Juba's clothes and

with Juba's guards, to Cato's palace, in order to pass for

Juba, in a

place where they were both so

very well

known he meet Juba there, and resolves to murder

him with his own guards. Upon the guards appearing
a little bashful, he threatens them
;

"

Hah dastards, do you tremble

Or act like men or, by yon azure heaven
'

" But the guards

still

remaining

restive,

Sempronius

himself attacks Juba, while each of the guards

senting Mr. Spectator's sign

is

repre-

of the Gaper, awed,

seems, and terrified by Sempronius's threats. Juba

it

kills

takes his own army prisoners, and

them in triumph away to Cato. Now I would
know if any part of Mr. Bayes's tragedy is so full

Sempronius, and
carries
fain

of absurdity as
u

Upon
come

this.

hearing the clash of swords, Lucia and Mar-

in.
The question is, why no men come in
upon hearing the noise of swords in the governor's
ha]l? Where was the governor himself
Where were

cia

ADDISON.
guards?

his

tempt as

Where were
so near

this,

123

Such an

his servants?

at-

person of a governor of a

rite

place of war, was enough to alarm the whole garrison

and yet, for almost half an hour after Sempronius was

killed,

we

none of those appear who were the

find

likeliest in the

world

to

be alarmed

and the noise of

draw only two poor women thither,

who were most certain to run away from it. Upon Lucia and Marcia's coming in, Lucia appears in all the
symptoms of a hysterical gentlewoman
swords

made

is

to

" Luc. Sure

'twas the clash of swords

my

troubled heart

down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,

throbs with fear, and aches at every sound

Is so cast
It

"

And

imediately her old

whimsy

!"

upon her

returns

" O Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake

away with horror at the thought.

I die

" she fancies that there can be no cutting of throats, but

it

must be

know what

comical.

body of Sempronius
it

If this

for her.
is

"

is

would

this

fain

they spy the

for, says she,

muffled up within the garment.

Now, how

muffled up

upon

and Marcia, deluded by the habit,

seems, takes him for Juba

" The face

tragical,

is

Well

in

man

his

could

garment,

fight,
is,

and

fall

think a

with his face

little

hard to

knew
him to be Sempronius. It was not by his garment that
he knew this it was by his face then his face therefore was not muffled.
Upon seeing this man with his
conceive

Besides, Juba, before he killed him,

muffled face, Marcia

passion for

falls

a-raving

and, owning her

the supposed defunct, begins

funeral oration.

Upon which Juba

suppose on tip-toe
can enter listening

for I cannot
in

to

make

his

enters listening, I

imagine how any one

any other posture.

would

fain

ADDISON.

1J4

known how

comes

it

during

to pass, that

much

had sent nobody, no, not so

all this

time he

as a candle -suffer,

away the dead body of Sempronius. Well but

Having left his apprehension behind him, he, at first, applies what Marcia
But finding at last, with much
says to Sempronius.
ado, that he himself is the happy man, he quits his eve-

to take

us regard him listening.

let

enough

dropping, and discovers himself just time

prevent
the

moment

to

whom

being cuckolded by a dead man, of

his

before he had appeared so jealous

and

greedily intercepts the bliss which was fondly designed

one

for

who

must ask

could not be the better for

a question

How comes

Juba

But here

it.

listen here,

to

who had not listened before throughout the play ? Or

how comes he to be the only person of this tragedy who
listens,

when

driven upon

were so often talked in

afraid the author was

love and treason

so public a place as a hall

all

am

these absurdities only to introduce this

miserable mistake of Marcia, which, after

below the dignity of tragedy,

much

all, is

as any thing

is

which

is

the effect or result of trick.

" But

let

appears
posture

come

us

first

to the scenery of the fifth act.

upon the scene,

in his

hand Plato's

sitting

treatise

on the Immortality

Now

of the Soul, a drawn sword on the table by him.

let

us consider the place in which this sight

ed

to us.

The

place, forsooth,

is

should appear so/us

on the table by him

in a
;

Immortality of the
Lintot

person as
lor a

in

would

present-

Let us

our halls

in

in this pos-

London that he
drawn sword
;

sullen posture, a
his

hand Plato's

treatise

Soul, translated lately by

desire the reader to

this

is

a long hall.

suppose, that any one should place himself

ture, in the midst of one of

Cato

a thoughtful

in

pass, with

on the

Benmd

consider, whether such a

them who beheld him,

great patriot, a great philosopher, or a general, or

ADDISON.

125

some whimsical person, who fancied himself all these

whether the people who belonged

and

would

to the family

think that such a person had a design upon their midriffs

or his

own

" In short, that Cato should

sit

long enough

in the afore

said posture, in the midst of this large hall, to read over

Plato's treatise on the Immortality of the Soul,

lecture of two long hours

be private there upon that occasion

self to

is

that he should

for intruding there

be angry with his son

which

that he should propose to him-

then, that he

should leave this hall upon the pretence of sleep, give

himself the mortal wound

brought back

bedchamber, and then be

in his

into that hal^ to expire, purely to

show

his

good-breeding, and save his friends the trouble of coming up

to his

bedchamber

all this

appears

to

me

be improba-

to

ble, incredible, impossible."

Such

lery

it,

but

if

is,

perhaps " too much horse-play

his jests are coarse, his

Yet, as we love better

is

There

the censure of Dennis.

is

expresses

read and the critic

to be

is

Dryden

as
in

his

l-ail-

arguments are strong.

pleased than be taught, Cato

neglected.

Flushed with consciousness of these detections of absurdity in the conduct, he afterwards attacked the sentiments
of

Cato; but he then amused himself with petty

and minute

Of

Addison's smaller poems, no particular mention

necessary
critic.

cavils

objections.

The

to Kneller,

they have

little

parallel of the Princes

is often

is

that can employ or require a

happy, but

is

and Gods
too well

in his

verses

known

to be

qjuoted.

His translations, so far as

the exactness of a scholar.
thors cannot be doubted

Vol.

II.

have compared them, want

That he understood

his au~

but his versions will not teach

126

ADDISON".

itlicrs

to

understand them, being loo licentiously para

They

phrastical.

and easy
such as

know

are, however, for the most part,

and, what

the

is

may be read

smooth

excellence of a translator,

first

who do

with pleasure by those

His poetry

is

polished and pure

commit

too judicious to

but

in

mind

the product of a

but not sufficiently vigorous

faults,

sometimes a striking

lie has

to attain excellence.

a shining paragraph

the whole he

is

line,

warm

however one

The

examples

of our earliest

versification

or

rather

He

than fervid, and shows more dexterity than strength.

.va

not

the originals.

of correctness.

which he had learned from Dryden he

debased rather than refined.* His rhymes arc often dissonant

in his

Georgic he admits broken

He

lines.

ftses

both triplets and Alexandrines, but triplets morefrequently

in his translations

than his other works.

The

ture of verses seems never to have engaged

But his

care.

smooth

iti

Addison

lines are

very smooth

of his

Rosamond and

too

Cato.
is

now

to

be considered as a

vhirh the present generation

him.

in

mei-e struc-

much

His criticism

is

critic

condemned as tentative

mental, rather than scientific

name

scarcely willing to allow

is

and he

or experi-

considered as

is

deciding by taste* rather than by principles.

not

It is

uncommon

who have

for those

thcj.labour of others to add a

overlook their masters.

little

Addison

is

grown, wise by

of their

own,

and

now despised by some

who perhaps would never have seen his defects, but by the
lights which he afforded them.
That he always wrote as
'ic

would think

firmed

it is

necessary

his instructions

Taste must

to

write now, cannot be af-

were such as

decide.

the character

M'.\btov.

ADDISON.
his readers

now

made

circulates in

Men

found.

ignorance

12?

proper.

That general knowledge which

common

talk

was

in his

not professing learning

and, in

time rarely to be

were not ashamed

His

with books was distinguished only to be censured.

to infuse literary curiosity, by gentle and un-

purpose was

suspected conveyance, into the gay, the

wealthy

idle,

he therefore presented knowledge

alluring form, not lofty

familiar.

of

the female world, any acquaintance

When

and the

in the

most

and austere, but accessible and

he showed them their defects, he showed

them likewise that they might be easily supplied. His

attempt succeeded; inquiry was awakened, and comprehension expanded.

Was excited

An

emulation of intellectual elegance

and, from this time to our own,

;.

life

has been

gradually exalted, and conversation purified and enlarged-

Dryden had,

not

many

years before, scattered criticism

over his prefaces with very

he sometimes condescended

manner was

in

stand their master.

read only

An

to

parsimony

but though

be somewhat familiar, his

general too scholastic for those

their rudiments to learn,

for those that

little

and found

it

who had

yet

net easy to under-

His observations were framed rather

were learning

to write,

than

for those that

to talk.

instructor like

Addison was now wanting, whose

remarks, being superficial, might be easily understood, and

being

just,

might prepare the mind

for

more attainments.

Mad he presented Paradise Lost to the public with all the

pomp of system and severity of science, the criticism would
perhaps have been admired and the poem
neglected
cility

still

have been

but by the blandishments of gentleness and fa-

he has

made Milton an

universal favourite, with

whom every class think it necessary to be pleased.

He descended now aud then to lower disquisitions;

and

ADDISON

128

by a serious display of the beauties of Chevy-Chase, exposed himself to the ridicule of Wagstaffc, who bestowed

pompous character on Tom Thumb

a like

tc the con-

and

tempt of Dennis, who, considering the fundamental

tion of his criticism, that

to please,

way

because

it is

Chevy- Chase pleases, and

posi-

ough'.

natural, observes, " that there

of deviating from nature,

is

by bombast or humour,

which soars above nature, and enlarges images beyond

wlieir

real bulk

by affectation, which forsakes nature

quest of something unsuitable

in

and by imbecility, which

degrades nature by faintness and dimunition, by obscuring it?

appearances, and weakening
there
is

is

chill

be told
f

its effects.*'

not

much

and

lifeless imbecility.

in

of either

manner that

In Chevy-Chase

bombast or affectation

shall

but there

The story cannot possibly

make less impression on

he mind.
Before the

profound observers of the present

race

repose too securely on the consciousness of their superiority

to

Addison,

which

may

let

them consider

his

remarks on Ovid,

be found specimens of criticism

subtle and refined

let

them peruse

in

sufficiently

likewise his essa\

Wit and on the Pleasures of Imagination, in which hr

founds art on the base of nature, and draw s the principles
of invention
witli skill

from dispositions inherent

and elegance,* such as

his

in

the

mind

contemners

of

man

will

no'.,

easily attain.

As

a describer of

to stand

perhaps the

life

and manners, he must be allowed

first of

which, as Steele observes,

is

the

first

rank.

His humour,

peculiar to himself,

is

so hap-

pily diffused as to give the grace of novelty to domestic scenet

and daily occurrences.

Fr,

in

lie

never " outsteps the modesty

Dr. Warton's opinion, beyond Dryden.

ADDISON.
of nature," nor raises

merriment

129

or

wonder by the

His figures neither divert by

of truth.

He

amaze by aggravation.

copies

life

tions

have an

pose

them

air so

much original,

that

nor

much

fide-

with so

he can be hardly said invent

lity that

violation

distortion

yet his exhibi-

it is

difficult to

sup-

not merely the product of imagination.

As a teacher

of wisdom,

His religion has nothing in

he
it

may be

confidently followed.

enthusiastic or superstitious

he appears neither weakly credulous nor wantonly sceptical

his morality

is

neither dangerously lax nor impracti-.

All the enchantment of fancy and all the

cably rigid.

cogency of argument are employed

to

recommend

the

to'

reader his real interest, the care of pleasing the author of

his being.

a vision

Truth

is

shown sometimes as the phantom

sometimes appears half-veiled

sometimes attracts regard

sometimes steps forth

in

in

and

the robes of fancy; and

in the confidence of reason.

v/ears a thousand dresses,

of

an allegory

She

in all is pleasing.

" Mille habet ornatus, mille decenter habet"

His prose

is

the model of the middle style

on grave

subjects not formal; on light occasions not groveling; pure

without scrupulosity, and exact without apparent elaboration

always equable and always easy, without glowing

words or pointed sentences. Addison never deviates from

track

and

to

snatch a grace

tries no

hazardous innovations.

mminous, but never blazes

It

was apparently

in

his principal

in his transitions

His page

is

always

unexpected splendour.
endeavour to avoid

harshness and seventy of diction; he

times verbose

his

he seeks no ambitious ornaments

is

ail

therefore some-

and connections, and some-

times descends too much to the language of conversation

2l

ADDISON*.

130
yet

if

have

his
lost

language had been less idiomatical,

6omewhat

genuine Anglicism.

of its

attempted, he performed

he

not wish to be energetic ;* he

stagnates.

is

is

his

never feeble, and he did

never rapid, and he never

Whoever wishes

to attain

familiar but not coarse, and elegant but

style,

not ostentatious,

he

periods, though not diligentl>

rounded, are voluble and easy.

lumes

might

His sentences have neither studied amplitude

nor affected brevity

an English

it

What

must give

his

days and nights to the

vo-

of Addison.

Bui, says Dr. Warton, he sometimes

MS. note he adds,

often so.

C.

is

so

and

in

anothe

HUGHES.

JOHN HUGHES,

the son of a citizen in London,

and of Anne Burgess, of an ancient family

was born

at

Marlborough, July 29, 1677.

at a private school

and though

his

in

Wiltshire,

He was educated

advances

in literature

are, in the Biografihia, very ostentatiously displayed, the

name
At

of his master is

nineteen he

somewhat ungratefully concealed.*

drew the plan

of a tragedy

and para-

phrased, rather too profusely, the ode of Horace which

begins " Integer Vit "
To poetry he added the science
of music, in
skill,

which he seems

to

have attained considerable

together with the practice of design, or rudiments of

painting.

His studies did

riot

withdraw him wholly from business,

nor did business hinder him from study.

in the office of

ordinance

He had

and was secretary

a place

to several

commissions for purchasing lands necessary to secure the

royal docks at

Chatham and Porstmouth ;

to acquaint himself with

yet found time

modern languages.

* He was educated in a dissenting academy, of which the Rev.

Mr. Thomas Rowe was tutor ; and was a fellow student there
with Dr. Isaao Watts, Mr. Samuel Say, and other persons of eminence. In the "Horx Lyricse" of Dr. Watts is a poem to the
memory of Mr. Rowe* H.

HUGHES.

132

pam on the

In 1697 he published a

and

1699 another pie<\\

in

Peace of Rys-wick

The Court of JYefitune,

k.ng William, which he addressed to Mr

on the return of

called

Montague, the general patron

of the followers of the

The same year he produced

a.

song on the

Duke

Muses.
Glou-

of

cester's birth -day.

He

did

i.ot

other kinds

u."

confine himself to poetry,

writing with great success

time showed his knowledge

of

human

on the pleasure of being deceived.

but cultivated

and about

this

nature by an Essay

In 1702 he published,

on the death of kir.g William, a Pindaric ode, called The

Houac of Nassau ; and wrote another paraphrase on

Otium Dixon of Horace.

the

In 1703 his ode on music was performed at Stationery

Hall

and nc wrote afterwards six cantatas, which were

set to

music bv the greatest master

seemed intended

to

exotic and irrational entertainment

lie

began

to

and

which has been always

combated, and always has prevailed.

His reputation

of that time,

oppose or exclude the Italian opera, an

was now

so far

pay reverence

to his

'

advanced, that the pub-

name

and he was

soli-

cited to prefix a preface to the translation of Boccalini, a

writer whose satyrical vein cost him Ins

who

never,

believe, found

life in

many readers

Italy,

in this

and

country.

even though introduced by such powerful recommendation.

Hetranslated Fontenelle's Dialogues of the

his version

glected

was perhaps read

for by a

To the

is

book not necessary, and owing

tation wholly to its turn of diction, little notice

but from those

Dead ; and

at tn..t time, but

who can

now neits

repu-

can be gained

enjoy the graces of the original.

dialogues of Fontenclle he added two composed by

umself | and, though

not only au honest but a pious

man.

HUGHES.
work

dedicated his
skilfully

to the

133

earl of

He

Wharton.

enough of his own interest

judged

Wharton, when

for

he went lord lieutenant to Ireland, offered to take Hughes

with him and establish him
promises, from another

more

but Hughes, having hopes, or

man

power, of some provision

in

Wharton's

suitable to his inclination, declined

offer,,

and obtained nothing from the other.

He

Miser

translated the

offered to the stage

which he never

of Moliere 3

and occasionally amused himselt

^ith making versions of favourite scenes

other plays.

in

Being now received as a wit among the wits, he paid

contributions to literary undertakings,

the Tatler, Spectator, and

Guardian. In 1712 he trans-

lated Vertot's history of the Revolution

dueed an Ode

to the

his

and assisted both

of Portugal, pro*

Creator of the world,

from

the frag-

ments of Orpheus, and brought upon the stage an opera

called Calipso

and Telemacus, intended

to

show that the

English language might be very happily adapted to music.

This was impudently opposed by those who were employed

in the Italian

opera; and, what cannot be told without

indignation, the intruders

of

had such

duke

interest with the

Shrewsbury, then lord chamberlain, who had married

an Italian, as

to obtain

an obstruction of the

profits,

though

not an inhibition of the performance.

There was

at this time a project

formed by Tonson for

a translation of the Pharsalia by several hands

Hughes Englished the tenth

must

often

book.

But

happen when the concurrence

sary, fell to the

ground

and the

and

this design,

many is
whole work was
of

as

necesafter-

wards performed by Rowe.

His acquaintance with the great writers of
pears to have been very general

his time ap-

but of his intimacy with

HUGHES.

ljl

Addison there h a i-cmarkablc

authority, that Caio
sion.

It

supply.

to

proof.

last act,

If the

which he was desired

request was sincere,

proceeded from an opinion, whatever

last long

for

good

told on

It is

and played by his persua-

finished

had long wanted the

Addison

by

was

when Hughes came

it

in

it

was, that did not

week

to

shew him

attempt, he found half an act written by Addison

Jiis first

l.irnself.

lie afterwards published the

life,

works

of Scienter, with

a Glossary, and a discourse on Allegorical poetry

work

hij,

which he was well qualified as a judge of the

beauties of writing, but perhaps wanted an antiquary's
for

knowledge

of the obsolete words.

the curiosity of the public

before his edition
his jlfwllo

was

for

reprinted.

and Daphne^

of

He

did not

much

revive

near thirty years elapsed

The same year produced

which the success was very

earnestly promoted by Steele, who,

when

the rage of a

party did not misguide him, seems to have been a

man

of

boundless benevolence.

Hughes had

hitherto suffered the mortifications of a

narrow fortune; but

set

him

sions of the

in

1717 the lord chancellor Cowper

by making him secretary to the commis*

at ease,

peace

in

which he afterwards, by a particular

request, desired his successor lord Parker to continue

He hud now
it

when

affluence

but such

is

human

life,

him

that he had

his declining health could neither allow

him lung

possession nor quick enjoyment.

His
after

last

work was

his tragedy, the Siege

which a Scige became a popular

which

still

of Damascus,

title.

This play,

continues on the stage, and of which

it is

un-

necessary to add a private voice to such continuance of

ipprobation,

is

not acted or printed according to the au-

HUGHES.
thtv's original

135

He had

draught or his settled intention.

apostatize from his religion

made Phocyas

which

after

the abhorrence of Eudocia would have been reasonable, his

misery would have been just, and the horrors of his repen-

The

tance exemplary.

players, however, inquired that

the guilt of Phocyas should terminate in desertion to the

enemy

and Hughes, unwilling that

his relations should

lose the benefit of his work, complied with the alteration.

He was now

weak, with a lingering consumption, and

not able to attend the rehearsal, yet

was

so vigorous in his

faculties that only ten days before his death he wrote the

On February

dedication to his patron lord Cowper.

1719

He

lived to hear that

was represented and the author

20, the play

regard

it

was well

received

17,

died.

but paid no

being then wholly employed in

to the intelligence,

the meditations of a departing christian.

man

of his character

was undoubtedly regretted

Steele devoted an essay, in the paper called

memory

to the

of his virtues. His

life

the late

him

is

and

written in the

is

Biographia with some, degree of favourable partiality

an account of

The Theatre^

and

prefixed to his works by his relation

Mr. Duncombe, a man whose blameless elegance

deserved the same respect.

The

character of his genius I shall transcribe from the

correspondence of Swift and Pope.

"

month ago," says Swift, " were

friend of mine, the

are

in

of John

sent

me and
;

as verse.''

name

I think

me

over, by a

Hughes, esquire.

prose and verse. I never heard of the

yet I find your

for

works

as a subscriber.

man

in

They

my

He is too grave

among the mediocrists

in

life,

a poet

prose as well

HUGHES.

136

To

this

Pope returns

"

To answer

Mr. Hughes what he wanted

:

honest

man

?>ut

tc

he made up as an

but he was of the class you think him/'*

In Spence's collection Pope

^lill

your question as

in genius,

less respect, as

is

made

to

speak

of

him with

having no claim to poetical reputation

from his tragedy.

This, Dr. Warton asserts, is very unjust censure and, in a

note in his late edition of Pope's works, asks if " the author of
;

Hch

a tragedy as The Siege of Damascus was one of the

and Pope seem not to recollect the value and

vtediocribus ? Swift

rank of an author

who could

write such a tragedy."

C.

SHEFFIELD,
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.

JOHN

SHEFFIELD,

of illustrious ancestors,

earl of

descended from a long series

Mul grave, who died

in

658.

put into the hands of a tutor, with

satisfied, that

of Edmund
The young lord was
whom he was so little

was born 1649, the son

he got rid of him

in

a short time, and at an

age not exceeding twelve years resolved to educate him-

Such a purpose, formed

self.

at such

fully prosecuted, delights, as

as

it is

it is

an age, and success-

straDge, and instructs,

real.

His literary acquisitions are more wonderful, as those

years

him

in

which they are commonly made were spent by

in the

tumult

When war was

of

a military

life

or the gaiety of a court.

declared against the Dutch, he went, at

seventeen, on board the ship in which prince Rupert and

the duke of Albermarle sailed, with the

fleet

from

command

of the

but by contrariety of winds they were restrained

action.

His zeal

for the king's service

pensed by the command

of one of the

was recom-

independent troops

of horse, then raised to protect the coast.

Next year he received a summons

to

parliament,

which, as he was then but eighteen years old, the earl of

Northumberland censured as

Vol,

II.

at least indecent,

and

his

138

SHEFFIELD.

objection

was allowed. He

Rochester, which

hail a quarrel

with the earl

as Rochester's surviving sister, the lady Sandwich,

to

have

told

When

of

has perhaps too ostentatiously related,

lie

is

said

bin with very sharp reproaches.

another Dutch war

again a volunteer

the

in

Ossory commanded

1672; broke out, he went

which the celebrated lord

ship

and there made,

as he relates,

two

curious remarks

"

have observed two things, which

a cannon

harm

dare

affirm

that the wind of

though flying never so near,

bullet,

of doing the least

no

One was,

though not generally believed.

and, indeed, were

is

incapable
otherwise,

it

man above deck would escape. The other was, that a

may be sometimes avoided, even as it flies by

great shot

changing one's ground a

little;

times blew away the smoke,

day, that

we

half spent)

judge well

taker,
saving

may

so clear a

sun-shiny

the water, and from thence bound up

which gives

us,

atepor twoon any side

to

was

could easily perceive the bullets (that were

fall into

among

again

when the wind some-

for,
it

what

in

though

sufficient

time for making a

in so swift a motion,

line the bullet

man

by removing cost a

'tis

comes, which,

if

hard
mis-

his life, instead of

it."

His behaviour was so favourably represented by lord

wasad\anced

Ossi.ry.that he
rine, the best

He
ed

it

in

command

The

Rupert

Catha-

foot,

and command-

land-forces were sent ashore by

and he lived

Wkta Schomberg.

of the

the na\y.

afterwards raised a regiment of

as colonel.

Jirince

bid

to the

second-rate ship

He was

in

the

camp

very familiarly

then appointed colonel of the

Holland regiment, together with his own, and had the

promise of a garter, which he obtained

year.

He was

likewise

in his

made gentleman

twenty-

of the

fifth

bed-cham-

SHEFFIELD.
ber.

He afterwards went

into the

130

French

service, to learn

the art of Avar under Turenne, but staid only a short time.

Being by the duke of

Monmouth opposed

pretensions

in his

made
Monmouth suspected by the duke of York. He was not
long after, when the unlucky Monmouth fell into disgrace
troop of horse-guards, he, in return,

to the first

recompensed with the lieutenancy

government

Thus
civil

and the

cf Yorkshire

of Huii.

rapidly did he

make

his

honours and employments

way

both to military and

he was, he

yet, busy as

did not neglect his studies, but at least cultivated poetry

in

which he must have been early considered

monly

skilful, if

be true which

it

he was not yet twenty years

vanced Dryden

old,

is

uncom-

reported, that,

his

when

recommendation ad-

to the laurel.

The Moors having besieged Tangier,

with two thousand men to its relief.
told of the

as

danger

to

which he was

he was sent (1680)

strange story

intentionally

is

exposed

in a leaky ship, to gratify some resentful jealousy of the

king, whose health he therefore would never permit at his
table

till

he saw himself

in

His voyage was

a safer place.

prosperously performed in three weeks

and the Moors

without a contest retired before him.

In this voyage he composed The Vision

poem

power

At

such as was fashionable

a licentious

with

little

of invention or propriety of sentiment.

his return

he found the king kind, who perhaps had

never been angry

as before.

At

in those times,

and he continued a wit and a courtier

the succession of king James, to

mately known, and by

whom

he naturally expected

still

know how

whom

he was

inti-

he thought himself beloved,

brighter

sunshine

but all

soon that reign began to gather clouds,

His

140

!>IIEFFIELIJ-

expectations were not disappointed

admitted

He

berlain.

he was immediately

made

privy-auncil, and

into the

accepted a place

in

cham-

lord

the high commission,

without knowledge, as he declared after the revolution, of

Having few

its illegality.

religious scruples,

he attended

the king to mass, and kneeled with the rest, but had no
disposition to receive the

others

for

when

Romish

faith or to force

upon

it

the priests, encouraged by his appear-

ances of compliance, attempted to convert him, he told

them, as Burnet has recorded, that he was willing

believe

in

God who had made

the world and all

men

but that he should not be easily peisuaded that

is

bestowed by successive transmis-

whom

it

will

bifttjea,

whatever be

Anne Askew, one

tant religion,
in

Tower

the

that

it

-was

pointed sentence

sion to the last

by

in

man

to

and made God again.

quits)

to

and that he had taken much pains

receive instruction,

it

who
:

in

its

fit

this censure of transub-

value,

was

uttered long ago

of the first sufferers for the Protes-

the time of

Henry VIII. was tortured

concerning which there

was not known

is

reason to wonder

to the historian of the reformation.

In the revolution he acquiesced, though he did not pro-

mote

it.

There was once

invitation of the prince of

a design of associating

Orange

him

in

the

but the earl of Shrews-

bury discouraged the attempt, by declaring that Mulgravr

would never concur.

This king William afterwards

u>ld

and ttked what he would have done if the proposal

bad been made "Sir," said he, "I would have diswered

him

it

to the

king

whom

William replied,

then served."

To which

king

cannot blame you."

Iinding king James irremediably excluded, he voted

for the conjunctive sovereignty, upon this principle, that he
thought the

title

of the prince and his consort ccpial, and

it

SHEFFIELD.

141

would please the prince their protector

have a share

to

This vote gratified king William

the sovereignty.

in

yet,

either by the king's distrust or his

own

discontent, he lived

some years without employment.

He

looked on the king

with malevolence, and,

his verses or his prose

if

He

credited, with contempt.

aversion

made marquis

or indifference,

(1694), but
questions

may be

was, notwithstanding this

Normandy

of

opposed the court on some impoi'tant

still

was received

yet at last he

into the cabinet

council, with a pension of three thousand pounds.

At the accession
courted
voured.

of

queen Anne, whoin he

is

said to have

when they were both young, he was

Before her coronation (1702) she

highly fa-

made him

lord

privy seal, and soon after lord lieutenant of the North riding
of Yorkshire.

He was

named commissioner for

then

ing with the Scots about the union

year,

first,

duke

of

treat-

and was made next

Normandy, and then

shire, there being suspected to be

to the title of

of

Buckingham-

somewhere a latent claim

Buckingham.

Soon after, becoming jealous of thedu ke of Marlborough,

the resigned the privy seal, and joined the discontented tories
in

a motion, extremely offensive to the queen, for inviting

The queen

the princess Sophia to England.

back with an

offer

no

less

him

courted

than that of the chancellorship

which he refused.

He now

that house in the

Park which

retired from business,

now the

is

and

built

queen's, upon

ground granted by the crown.

When

the ministry

was changed (1710), he was made

lord chamberlain of the household,

and concurred

in

all

transactions of that time, except that he endeavoured to

protect the Catalans. After the queen's death, he

a constant opponent

oi

the court

became

and, having no public

BHKPFIEU*.

141
business,

is

supposed

He was

by

have amused himself by writing

died February 24, 1720-21.

married

thrice

no children

to

He

two tragedies.

his

James by the countess

by his two

whu was

third,

h're

first

wives he had

the daughter of king

and the widow

of Dorchester,

of

the earl of Anglesy, he had, besides other children that

died early, a son born

end

to the

1716,

in

line of Sheffield.

duke's three wives

who died

The

widows.

were

1735, and put an

It is observable,

that the

duchess died

in 1742.

His character
tion.

not to be proposed as worthy of imita-

is

His religion he

Hobbes

and

may

be supposed to have learned from

his morality

was such

as naturally proceeds

from loose opinions. His sentiments with respect

he picked up

in

women

to

the court of Charles; and his principles

concerning property were such as a gaming-table supplies,

lie

as covetous, and has been defended by

was censured

an instance of inattention

to his affairs, as if a

man might

He

not at once be corrupted by avarice and idleness.

said, however, to

have had much tenderness, and

to

is

have

been very ready to apologize for his violences of passion,

lie

and,

if

is

introduced into this collection only as a poet

we

was

a poet of no vulgar i\mk.

now

at an end

ties or

credit the testimony of his contemporaries, be

awed by

criticism

is

But favour and

flattery arc

no longer softened by his boun-

his splendour, and, being able to take a

more steady view, discovers him

to

be a writer that

sometimes glimmers, but rarely shines, feebly laborious,

and at best but pretty.

His songs are upon common

and despairs,

topics; he hopes, and grieves, and repents,

and

rejoices, like

^cat, he hardly

any other maker of

tries

tube gay,

is

little

stanzas

hardly

in his

to be

power

SHEFFIELD.

143

Essay on Satire he was always supposed to

In the

have had the help

work

the great

for

Dryden, and Pope

of

Dry den.

His Essay on Poetry

is

which he was praised by Roscommon,

;

and doubtless by many more whose

eulogies have perished,

Upon this piece he appears to have set a high value

he was all his life-time improving it by successive
;

for

revisals, so that there

which the

is

scarcely any

last edition differs

other changes, mention

is

poem

more from the

made

of

to

be found of

Amongst

first.

some compositions

Dryden, which were written after the

first

of

appearance of

the essay.

At the time when

fame was not yet

this

work

first

fully established,

and Spenser were set before him.

were

The

these.

Must above

appeared, Milton's

and therefore Tasso

The two

last lines

epic poet, says he,

Milton's lofty flights prevail,

Succeed were great Torquato, and where greater Spenser,

fail.

The

last line

the order of

advanced
adjusted

in

succeeding editions was shortened, and

names continued

to the

but now Milton

highest place,

is

at last

and the passage thus

Must above

Tasso's lofty flights prevail,

Succeed where Spenser, and ev'n Milton

fail.

Amendments are seldom made without some token

rent

lofty

One

of a

does not suit Tasso so well as Milton.

celebrated line seems to be borrowed.

The

essay

calls a perfect character.

faultless monster,

which the world ne'er saw.

Scaliger, in his poems, terms Virgil tine labe monstnatf.

SHKFF1FXD.

144

Sheffield can scarcely be supposed to

have read

poetry; perhaps he found the words

in

Sealij

a quotation.

Of this essay, which Dry den has exalted so highly, it

may be justly said that the precepts are judicious, sometimes new, and often happily expressed
after all

the emendations,

many weak

strange appearances of negligence!

laws

of elegy,

he

as,

but there are,

lines,

when he

and some
gives the

upon connection and coherence

insists

without which, says he,

Til epigram, 'tis point, 'tis what you

But not an elegy, nor writ with skill,

No

Who

panegyric, nor a Cooper's

will

Hill.

would not suppose that Waller's panegyric and

Denham'a Coopers

Hill

were elegies

Mis verses are often insipid, but his memoirs arc

and agreeable

he had the perspicuity and elegance

historian, but not the fire

and fancy

of

a poet.

lively
I

PRIOR.

.MaTTHEIV PRIOR

is

one of those that have burst

out from an obscure original to great eminence.

born July 21,

1664, according to some, at

Dorsetshire, of

know

not

what parents

he was the son of a joiner of London

He was

Winburn

in

others say, that

he was perhaps

willing enough to leave his birth unsettled,* in hope, like

Don Quixotte, that the historian

him some illustrious alliance.

He

is

into the

of his actions

might find

supposed to have fallen, by his father's death,

hands

who sent him

of his uncle, a vintnerf near Charingoross,

some time

for

to

Dr. Busby, at Westminster

but, not intending to give

him any education beyond that

of the school, took him,

when he was well advanced

literature, to his

The

own

house,

where the earl

in

of Dorset,

difficulty of settling Prior's birih-place is great. In the

register of his college, he

is

called, at his admission

by the

Matthew Prior of IVinbom in Middlesex ; by himself

next day Matthew Prior of Dorsetshire, in which county, not in

president,

Middlesex,

or Winborne, as it stands in the Villare, is

he stood candidate for his fellowship, five years
afterwards, he was registered again hy himself as of Middlesex.
The last record ought to be preferred, because it wasfliade

found.

li'inborn

When

upon oath.

It is

observable, that, as a native of Winborne he

styled Filius Georgii Prior, generosi

is

not consistently with the

common

account of the meanness of his birth. Dr. J.

f Samuel Prior kept the Rummer tavern near Charing cross
The annual feast of the nobility and gentry living in
in 1685.

the parish of

St.

Martin in the Fields was held at his house,

Oclojper 14, that year. N.

PBIOG

146

celebrated for patronage of genius, found him by chance,

Burnet relates, reading Horace, and was so well pL

as

with his proficiency, that he undertook, the core an

He
in

academical education.

uf his

entered his

1682,

in his

name

John's college at Cambridge

in St.

eighteenth year

and

it

may

be reason

supposed that he was distinguished among his contemporaries.

He became

a bachelor, as

is

usual, in four years;*

and two years afterwards wrote the poem on the Deity,

which stands
It is

his volume.

first in

the established practice of that college, to send

every year to the earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred

subjects, in

acknowledgment

them from the bounty

of a benefaction enjoyed by

of his ancestor.

On

this occasion

were those verses written, which, though nothing is suid

of their success, seem to have recommended him to some
notice; for his praise of the countess's music, and his lines

on the famous picture of Seneca, afford reason for imagi-

ning that he was more or less conversant with that family.

The same year

Country Mouse,

he published

to ridicule

the

conjunction with Mr. Montague.

in

Mouse and

City

Dryden's Hind and Panther,

There

is

a storyf of

great pain suffered, and of tears shed, on this occasion, by

Dryden, who thought

so treated by those to

tales like these

hard that " an old

lie

was admitted

is b

lien-d

what
is

is

hoped

'

By

to his bachelor's

N.

readily

is

confidently told.

to hostilities

bis master's, by mandate, in 1700.

f Spence.

civil.

when they are attacked, every one

had been more accustomed

*

should be
-

hopes to see them humbled

believed, and what

man

he had always been

the envy raised by superior abilities

is

every day gratified

it

whom

Dryden

than that such

degree

in

1686

and

to

PRIOR.

147

enemies should break, his quiet

him vexed,

would be hard

it

to

and,

if

we can suppose

deny him sense enough

to

conceal his uneasiness.

The

City

Mouse and Country Mouse procured

its

authors more solid advantages than the pleasm*e of fretting

Dryden

for they

discontent, as

own part

his

were both speedily preferred. Montague,

obtained the

indeed,

it

first

seems,

of the

who probably knew

performance was the

however, much reason to complain

and obtained such

congress at the

for

He had

best.

he came

to

of

that
not,

London,

1691) he was sent

notice, that (in

Hague

some degree

notice, with

in Prior,

to the

as secretary to the embassy.

In

assembly cf princes and nobles, to which Europe has

this

perhaps scarcely seen any thing equal, was formed the

grand alliance against Louis, which at
duce

proportionate

effects

to

last did not pro-

magnificence of the

the

transaction.

The

conduct of Prior

business

lic

was

made him one

he

is

supposed

splendid initiation into pub-

William, that he

gentlemen of

bed-chamber; and

of the
to

in this

so pleasing to king
his

have passed some

of the

next years in

the quiet cultivation of literature and poetry.

The

death of queen

for all the writers

cally attended.

Mary

(in

Dryden, indeed,

and deprived, was

695) produced a subject

perhaps no funeral was ever

as a

man

silent; but scarcely

so poeti-

discountenanced

any other maker

of verses omitted to bring his tribute of tuneful sorrow.

An

emulation of elegy was. universal. Maria's praise was

not confined to the English language, but

of the

Musa

Prior,

a great part

Anglicanx.

who was

both a poet and a courtier, was too

gent to miss this opportunity of respect.

ode,

fills

which was presented

likely to be ever read..

to the king,

by

He
whom

dili-

wrote a long
it

was not

HS

PRIOW
two years he was secretary

In

the treaty of

same

Ryswick

being shewn the

a;,

said to

is

distinction.

he was one day surveying the apartments

sailles,

Ver-

at

ictories of Louis, painted by

Bum, and aakcd whether

Le

the king of England's palace

any such decorations;

had

another embassy,

where he

at the court of France,

office

have been considered with gnat

As

to

1697")> and next year had the

(in

*'

The monuments

of

my

master's actions," sa d he, "are to be seen every where

;

but

own house."

in his

The

pictures of

make them more

He was

themselves

it

ne-

simple.

the following year at

in

whom,

not only in

but were explained by inscrip-

that Boileau and Racine thought

tions so arrogant,

cessary to

from

Le Brun are

ostentatious,

sufficiently

Loo with the king

after a long audience, he carried orders to

England, and upon his arrival became uiuler-secretary

of state in the earl of Jersey's office

not retain long, because Jersey

soon

made commissioner

This year (1700) produced one

all

powers

his

accuse him of

fl

littery

which he did
;

but he was

of his longest

Carmen Sccularc,

of celebration.

in

and most
which he

mean

he probably thought

all

not to

that he

nd retained as much veracity as can be properly

writ,

from

exacted

a poet

professedly

William supplied copious materials

prose.

nied

a post

of trade.

splendid compositions, the

exhausts

was removed

His whole

him

life

had been

encomiastic.
for either

action,

King

verse or

and none ever de-

the resplendent qualities of steady resolution and

He received, in September, 1697, a present of 200 guineas

from the lords justices, for his trouble in bringing over the
treaty of peace-

PRIOR.

He was

personal courage.

him

represents

really in Prior's

in his verses

and was accustomed

149

to say, that

he praised others

pliance with the fashion, but that

William he followed

mind what he

he considered him as a hero,

in

To

his inclination.

in

com-

celebrating king

Prior gratitude

would dictate praise which reason would not refuse.

Among

the advantages to arise from the future years of

William's reign, he mentions a Society for useful Arts,

and among them

Some

And

that with care true eloquence shall teach,

to just idioms fix our doubtful

speech

That from our writers distant realms may know

The thanks we to our monarchs owe,

And

schools profess our tongue through every land

That has invok'd

Tickell,
of a

its

aid or bless'd his hand.

Prospect of Peace, has the same hope

in his

new academy

In happy chains our daring language bound,

more

Shall sport no

in arbitrary sound.

Whether
bit the

the similitude of those passages, which exhisame thought on the same occasion proceeded

from accident or imitation,

not easy to determine.

is

Tickell might have been impressed with his expectation

by Swift's Proposal for ascertaining the English

Language, then

lately published.

In the parliament that

representative

of

East

met

in

1701 he was chosen

Grinstead.

Perhaps

about this time that he changed his party

for the

impeachment

of those lords

it

was

for he voted

who had persuaded

the king to the partition-treaty, a treaty in which he

had himself been

Vol.

II.

ministerially employed.

-N

PRIOR.

150

great part of queen Anne's reign was a time of

which there was

war,

in

tors,

and Prior had therefore

When

verses.

little

the battle

of

among

the vcrsemcn, Prior,

his delight in the increasing

employment

leisure to

make

for negotia-

or to polish

Blenheim called forth

all

the rest, took care to shov.

honour

of his country

by an

epistle to Boileau.

He

published soon afterwards a volume of poems, with

the encomiastic character of his deceased patron the duke

of Dorset:

began with the college exercise and ended

it

with the Nut-brown Maid.

The
cited

battle of Ramillies soon afterwards (in 1706) ex-

him

to

another

had fewer or
easy to

name any

which

is

effort of poetry.

formidable rivals

less

On

this occasion

and

it

he

would be not

other composition produced by that event

now remembered.

Every thing has

its

day.

Through the

reigns of Wil-

liam and Anne no prosperous event passed undignified by

In the last war,

poetry.

overpowered
coming
the

to

name

in

her assistance, only shared her calamities, and

of an

fame

Englishman was reverenced through Eu-

was heard amidst the general acclamation

rope, no poet
the

when France was disgraced and

every quarter of the globe, when Spain,

of our counsellors

and heroes was intrusted

to the

gazetteer.

The

nation

queen grew

in

time grew weary of the war, and the

weary

of

and

his friends

began

to

The war was

her ministers.

burdensome, and the ministers were

insolent.

Harley

hope that they might, by driving

the whigs from court and from power, gratify at once the

queen and the people.

who might convey

There was now a

call for writers,

intelligence of past abuses, and

shew

the waste of public money, the unreasonable conduct of

PRIOR.

151

the allies, the avarice of generals, the tyranny of minions

and the general danger

For

this

of

approaching ruin.

purpose a paper called The Examiner was

periodically published, written, as

of the party,

and sometimes, as

Some are owned by

Swift

it

happened, by any wit

is said,

and one,

by Mrs. Manley.
Garth's

in ridicule of

verses to Godolphin upon the loss of his place,

was written

by Prior, and answered by Addison, who appears

known

to

have

the author either by conjecture or intelligence.

The

who were now

tories,

end the war; and Prior,

power, Were

in

in

haste to

being recalled (1710) to his

former employment of making

was

sent

(July

1711) privately to Paris with propositions of peace.

He

was remembered

at the

French court

about a month, brought with

Mr. Mesnager, a

treaties,

and, returning in

him the Abbe Gualtier, and

minister from France, invested with

full

powers.

This transaction not being avowed, Mackay, the master

Dover packet-boat, either zealously or officiously,

of the

seized Prior and his associates at Canterbury. It

is easily

supposed that they were soon released.

The

negociation

queen's

the

was begun

ministers

at Prior's house, where

met Mesnager (September 20,

1711) and entered privately upon the great business.

importance of Prior appears from the mention

him by

My

"
the

St.

are

in his letter to the

lord treasurer

same

who

John

opinion, that

empowered

The

made

of

queen.

moved, and

my

lords

were of

Mr. Prior should be added

to those

to sign:

all

the reason

for

which

is,

because he, having personally treated with Monsieur de

Torcy, is the best witness we can produce of the sense ir.

which the general preliminary engagements are entered

into : besides which, as he is the best versed in matters of

PRIOR.

152

trade of

all

your majesty's servants

in this secrpt, if

you should think

commerce,

future treaty of

it

which must be the rule

The assembly

of this

trusted

employ him

to

the

in

will be of consequence that

he has been a party concerned

tion

who have been

fit

in

concluding that conven-

of this treaty."

was

important night

some

in

degree clandestine, the design of treating not being yet

when

openly declared, and,

was aggravated
remarks

Prior

to a

charge

the whigs returned to power,

of high treason

though, as

imperfect answer to the report of

in his

the committee of secrecy, no treaty ever

was made with-

out private interviews and preliminary discussions.

My

business

of

is

The

uf Prior.

not the history of the peace, but the

conferences began at Utrecht on the

life

first

January (1711-12), and the English plenipotentiaries

The

arrived on the fifteenth.

ministers of the different

potentates conferred and conferred

but the peace advan-

ced so slowly, that speedier methods were found necessaiy,

and Bolingbroke was sent to Paris

with less formality

to adjust difteienccs

Prior either accompanied him or

fol-

lowed him, and, after his departure, had the appointments

and authority

of

an ambassador, though no public charac-

ter.

By some mistake

of the queen's orders, the court of

France had been disgusted

letter, "
;^ive

to

the

and Bolingbroke says

Dear Mat, hide the nakedness

in his

of thy country,

and

turn thy fertile brain will furnish thee with

ij'_st

the blunders of thy countrymen,

who

are not

much

better politicians than the French are poets."

.

embassy

was

to

the duke of Shrewsbury went on a formal

to Paris.

It is

related by Hoyer, that the intention

have joined Prior

Shrewsbury refused

to

be

in

the

commission, but that

associated

with a

man

so

PRIOR.

meanly born.
title

till

1J3

Prior therefore continued to act without a

the duke returned next year to England, and

then he assumed the style and dignity of ambassador.

But, while he continued

in

appearance a private man,

he was treated with confidence by Lewis, who sent him

with a letter to the queen, written

"

of Bavaria.

I shall

in

favour of the elector

expect," says he, " with impatience,

the return of Mr. Prior, whose conduct

to

me."

And

Paris, Bolingbroke wrote to Prior thus

has a confidence

upon

in

very agreeable

you

make

at

still

"Monsieur de Torcy

use of

it,

once for

all,

and convince him thoroughly, that we

this occasion,

must give a

is

while the duke cf Shrewsbury was

different turn to our parliament

and our people

according to their resolution at this crisis."

Prior's public dignity
gust, 1713,

am

and splenduor commenced

and continued

till

in

Au-

the August following; but I

afraid that, according to the usual fate of greatness,

was attended with some perplexities and

He had

not all that

is

he hints to the queen

no service of plate

it

mortifications.

customarily given to ambassadors;

in.

an imperfect poem, that he had

and

it

appeared, by the debts Avhich

he contracted, that his remittances were not punctually

made.

On
tories

was

the first of August, 1714, ensued the downfal of the

and the degradation

of Prior.

He was

recalled, but

not able to return, being detained by the debts

he had found

it

necessary

to contract,

which

and which were

not

discharged before March, though his old friend Montague

was not at the head

He

of the treasury.

returned then as soon as he could, and was welcomed

on the 25th cf

March* by a warrant,
*1715.

N 2

but was, however,

154

1'KIOK.

own

cd to live in his

messenger,

house, under the custody of the

was examined

lie

till

the privy council, of which

before a committee of

Mr. Walpole was chairman,

and Lord Coningsby, Mr. Stanhope, and Mr. Lechmere,

were the principal interrogators

ach there

who

in this

examination,

printed an account not unentertaining,

is

behaved with the boisterousness of men elated by recent

They are represented

riiv.

as asking questions some-

times vague, sometimes insidious, and writing answers diffe-

which they received.

rent from those

Prior, however,

have been overpowered by their turbulence;

to

confesses that he signed what,

if

seems

for

he

he had ever come before

legal judicature, he should have contradicted or explain-

The

ed away.

Middlesex

oath was administered by Boscawen, a

who

justice,

They were very

Oxford
present

was going

to write his at-

side of the paper.

industrious to find

some charge against

and asked Prior, with great earnestness, who was

when

the preliminary articles were talked of or

signed at his house

nf

at last

wrong

.\ition on the

He

Oxford or the duke

could not

of

told

remember which

them, because

them, that either the earl

Shrewsbury was absent, but he

;

an answer which perplexed

it

supplied no accusation against either.

'Could any

tiling

be more absurd," says he, "or more in-

human, than

to

of

which

tor?

And

notwithstanding
I

to

a question, by the answering-

hours after.
this

their

prove myself a trai-

solemn

promise,

could say should hurt myself,

them

reason to trust

Whether

me

might, according to them

nothing which

five

propose to

for they violated that

However,

was wisely done

owned
or no,

that

had no

promise about

was there present.

leave to

my

friends

determine."

When

he had signed the paper, he was told by Wal-

PRIOR.

155

committee were not

pole, that the

with his be-

satisfied

haviour, nor could give such an account of

com-

to the

it

mons as might merit favour ; and that they now thought

a stricter confinement necessary than to his own house.
he, "

Boscawen played the

moralist,

and

Coningsby the Christian, but both very aukwardly."

The

"Here," says
messenger,

whose custody he was

in

to

be placed, was

then called, and very decently asked by Coningsby, "

his house

was secured by bars and bolts

" No," with astonishment.

answered,

if

The messenger

?"

At which Co-

ningsby very angrily said, " Sir, you must secure this prisoner;
shall

the safety of the nation

it is for

answer

if

he escape, you

for it."

They had already

printed their report

and

in this

examination were endeavouring to find proofs.

He

continued thus confined for some time; and Mr.

Walpole (June
against him.

10,

1715)

moved

What made him

an

for

impeachment

so acrimonious does not

appear he was by nature no thirster

:

for blood.

Prior was

a week after committed to close custody, with orders that

**

no person should be admitted to see hiin without leave

from the speaker."

When, two

years after, an act of grace was passed, he

was excepted, and continued still

had made less tedious by writing

in

custody, which he

his

Aima.

He was

however, soon after discharged.

He had now
Whatever

his

the profit of his

he had always spent

with

liberty,

it

but he had

and at the age

all his abilities, in

nothing

else.

employments might have been,

of fifty -three

was,

danger of penury, having yet no

revenue but from the fellowship of his college, which,

solid

when

in his exaltation

said he could live

he was censured for retaining

upon

at last.

it,

he

156

I'lllOK.

Being however generally known and esteemed, he was

encouraged

add other poems

to

to those

which he had

them by subscription.

printed, and to publish

many

dient succeeded by the industry of

The expewho cir-

friends,

culated the proposals,* and the care of some, who,

withheld the money from him

9aid,

der

The

it.

whole

was two guineas

price of the volume

collection

was fourthousand

to

is

the

which lord Harley,

whom

the son of the earl of Oxford, to

it

he should squan-

lest

he had invariably

adhered, added an equal sum for the purchase of Downhall,

which Prior was

during

to enjoy

life,

and Harley

after his decease.

He had

now, what wits and philosophers have often

wished, the power of passing the day

But

tranquillity.

It is not

long in a state of quiet.

He

declined.

took

little

head was

my

complains
care of

no account.

my

treat

!)

In a

of deafness

"for," says he,

was not sure

remaining

letter to Swift,

Cambridge

and spoke verses

her

to

in

"

life I

if

my

have found

have," says he,

(a fellow of a college

gown and cap

the plenipotentiary, so far concerned in the

peace at Utrecht

lume

live

unlikely that his health

ears while

in his

treated lady Harriot at

What!

contemplative

own."

Of any occurrences

'*

in

seems that busy men seldom

it

the

man

of terse prose, that

that

makes up

makes up the report

hmo num."

damned

half the voof the

com-

mittee, speaking verses! Sic est,

He

died at Wimpole, a seat of the earl of Oxford, on

the eighteenth of September,

1721, and was buried

Westminster: where, on a monument,

"
is

last piece of human vanity,"

engraven

this

epitaph

he

for

left five

in

which, as the

hundred pounds,

Swift obtained many subscriptions for him in IreUnJ

157

PRIOR.
Sui Temporis Historiam meditanti,
Paulatim obrepens Febris

& Vita filum abrupit,

An. Dom. 1721. JEtat. 57.

Operi simul
Sept. 18.

H. S. E.
Vir Eximius,
Serenissimis

Regi
,

Gulielmo

Reginaeque Marine

In Congressione Fcederatorum
Hags, anno 1690, celebrata,

Deinde Magnae Britannia Legatis,

Turn iis
Qui anno 1697 Pacera Ryswicki confecerunt,
Turn iis
Qui apud Gallos annis proximis Legationem obierunt
fcodem etiam anno 1697 in Hibernia

Secretarius
Necnon

in

utroque Honorabili consessu

Eorum,
Qui anno 1700 ordinandis Commercii negotiis,
Quique anno 171 1 dirigendis Portorii rebus,
Praesidebant,

COMMISSIONARIUS

Postremo

Ab Anna
Felicissimae memoriae

Ad Ludovicum XIV.

Regina

Galliae

Regem

Missus anno 1711

De Pace stabitienda,
(Pace etiamnum durante

Dinque ut

bom jam omnes

sperant duratura)

Cum summa potestate Legatus

MATTHiEUS PRIOR, Armiger

Qui
Hos omnes, quibus cumulatus

est,

Titulos

Humanitatis, Ingenii, Eruditionis laude

Superavit ;
Cui enim nascenti faciles arriserant Musae.

Hunc Puerum Schola

hie Regia perpolivit

Johannis
Oantabrigia optimis Scientiis instruxit

Juvenem

in Collegio S'ti

Nirum denique
Multa cum

auxit;

&

viris Principibus

perfecit

consuetudo

58

PlilOH.
lta natus, ita institute,

V'atum Choro avelli nunquam potuit,

Sed solebat sarpe rerum Civilium gravitatem
Amoeniorum Literarum Studiis condire
Et cum omne adeo Poeticcs genus
:

Haud

infebciter tentaret,

Turn in Fabellis concinne lepideque texendis

Minis Artifex
habuit parem.
animi obtectamenta

Neminem
Hxc liberalis

Quam
Facile

li

nullo

Illi

labore consliterint,

perspexere quibus usus est Amici;

Apud quos Urbamtatum & Leporum

Cum

plenus

ad rem, quaecunque forte inciderat,

Apte, varie, copioseque alluderet,

Interea nihil quxsitum, nihil vi expressum

Videbatur,

Scd omnia ultro

Et quasi jugi e

effluere,

fonte affatim exuberare,

lta suos tandem ubios reliquit,

Essetne in Scriptis Poeta Elegantior,
An in Convictu Comes Jucundior.

Of

Prior,

poraries

it is

afraid of

abilities

and

by his contem-

He

character and familiar practices.

when

the rage of party detected all which

any man's interest

Prior,

left

the account therefore must now be destitute of

his private

a time

eminent as he was both by his

very few memorials have been

station,

to

hide;

and, as

little

ill is

lived at
it

was

heard

of

much was known. He was not

provoking censure
for, when he forsook the
certain that not

whigs,* under whose patronage he

first

entered the world,

he became a tory so ardent and determinate, that he did

not willingly consort with

was

to address
to

men of different opinions. He

who met weekly, and agreed

one of the sixteen tories

each other by the

title of

Brother

and seems

have adhered, not only by concurrence of

Spcnce.

political

PRIOR.

155

designs, but by peculiar affection, to the earl of

his

Oxford and

With how much confidence he was

family.

has been already

trusted

told.

He was however,

in

Pope's* opinion,

only to

fit

make

verses, and less-qualified for business than Addison him-

This was surely

self.

said without consideration. Addison,

exalted to a high place, was forced into degradation by a

sense of his

own

incapacity.

men very capable

Prior,

secretary to one embassy, had,

again wanted, the same

office

much experience

of his

after so

who was employed by

of estimating his value,

when

having been

great abilities were

another time

and was,

knowledge and dexterity,

at last sent to transact a negociation in the highest degi'ee

arduous and important, for which he was qualified,

among

other requisites,

his influence

questions of
'

Of

in

the opinion of Bolingbroke, by

upon the French minister, and by

his behaviour in the lighter parts of life,

late to get

skill in

commerce above other men.

much

intelligence.

One

of his

it is

answers

too

to

Frenchman has been related; and to an imperone he made another equally proper.
During his

boastful

tinent

embassy, he sat at the opera by a man, who,

ture,

singer.

accompanied

in his

with his own voice the

rap-

principal

Prior fell to railing at the performer with all

the terms of reproach that he could

Frenchman, ceasing from

with him for his harsh censure of a

sedly the ornament of the stage.

the ambassador,

" mais

il

"

collect,

began

his song,

chante

till

the

to expostulate

man who was confesknow all that," says

si

haut,

que

je

ne

sgaurois vous entendre."

In a gay French company, where every one sang a

* Spence.

FRIOK

16<*

song or stanza, of which the burden was,

little

Mdancholie ;" when

nisscns la

came

it

"

Ban-

to his turn to sing,

after the performance of a >oung lady that sat next him,

he produced these extemporary lines:

Mais cette voix, et ces beaux yeux,
Font Cupidon trop dangereux
Kt je suis triste quand je crie,
Bannissons la Melancholic
Tradition represents him as willing to descend from
the dignity of the poet and statesman to the low delights

mean company. His Chloe probably was sometimes

but the woman with whom he cohabited was a desideal
picable drab* of the lowest species. One of his wenches,
of

perhaps Chloe, while he was

and ran away

stole his plate,

man who had

converse

absent from
as

been his servant. Of

was

his house,

related by a wo-

this propensity to sordid

have seen an account so seriously ridiculous,

it

seems

have been assured that Prior, after having spent

that

"

deserve insertion.

to

the evening with Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift,

would go and smoke a pipe, and drink a

a

common

went

to

soldier

bed

and

his wife,

in

bottle of ale,

with

Long-Acre, before he

not from any remains of the lowness of his

original, as one said, but,

suppose, that his faculties,

-Strain'd to the height,

In that celestial colloquy 9ublime,

Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought

Poor Prior,

why was he

of rrflair, after

Spence

so strained, and in such want

a conversation with

men,

and see Gent. Mag. vol LVII.

f Uichardsoniana.

repair."

not, in the

p. 1039.

PKIOR.
opinion of the worldj

161

much wiser than himself? But such

who strain theirfacullies

are the conceits of speculatists,

to find in

a mine what lines upon the surface.

His opinions,

seem

us,

to

means

so far as the

have been right ; but

of judging are

his life was,

it

left

seems,

irregular, negligent, and sensual.

Prior has written with great

made him popular. He has

variety

has

and

his variety-

tried all styles,

from the

grotesque to the solemn, and has not so failed in any as to

incur derision or disgrace.

His works may be distinctly considered, as comprising

Tales, Love-verses, Occasional Poems, Alma, and Solomon,

His tales have obtained general approbation, being

written with great familiarity and great sprightliness

language

is

but seldom

easy,

smooth, without appearance

there are only four.

Of

of care.

The Ladle

which

the

and the numbers

gross,

is

these Tales

introduced by

a preface, neither necessary nor pleasing, neither grave

Paulo Purganti ; which has likewise a pre-

nor merry.
face, but of

over decent

Hans

more value than the Tale.

Carvel, not

and Protogcnes and A/ipelles, an old story,

mingled, by an affectation not disagreeable, with modern

The young Gentleman

images.
just

claim to the

title of

in

a Tale.

Love has hardly a

know

not whether he

be the original author of any Tale which he was given us.

The

adventure of Hans Carvel has passed through

successions of
Satires,

and

merry wits

is

it is

to be

perhaps yet older.

stories is the art of telling

In his

for

Amorous

found

many

in Ariosto's

But the merit of such

them.

Effusions he

is

less

happy;

for

they

are not dictated by nature or by passion, and have neither

gallantry nor

Vol.

II.

tenderness.

They have

the coldness of

162

PJIIOR.

Cowley, without his

the dull exercises of a skilful

wit,

versifier, resolved at

adventures

all

something

to write

about Chloe, and trying to be amorous by dint of study.

His

fictions therefore are mythological.

example

of the

Then

naked and bathing.

Cu/iid

is

Venus, after the

Greek epigram, asks when she was seen

Cujiid

disarmed; then he loses

:hcn Jul iter sends him a

hit;

mistaken

is

then

Ganymede

darts to

summons by Mercury.

Then

Chloe goes a-hunting, with an ivory quiver graceful at

her side;

Diana mistakes her

Cupid laughs
cable

at

and even when he

The
.Emma
esteem

He

All this

his

all

without the

his thoughts are

talks not "like a

greatest of

surely despi-

is

tr.es to act the lover,

help of gods or goddesses,

or remote.

her nymphs, and

for one of

the blunder.

man

of this

amorous essays

is

unaffecting

world."

Henry and

a dull and tedious dialogue, which excites neither

for the

example

of

man, nor tenderness

Emma, who

the

for

murderer wherever fear and

guilt

The

woman.

resolves to follow

an outlawed
him, de-

shall drive

serves no imitation; and the experiment by which Henry

tries the

mfamy

lady's constancy,

is

such as must end either

His occasional poems necessarily

value, as their occasions, being less
less emotion.

Some

of

en

as will

Namur has,

is

it

it

readers, even

with the original.

not so happy.

part of

The Burlesque

some parts, such

always procure

cannot compare
leau

in

lost

their

remembered, raited

them, however are preserved by

heir inherent excellence.

Ode

in

disappointment to himself.

to her, or in

of Boileau's

airiness

among

The

and

levity

those

who

epistle to Hoi-

The poems to the kiii^ are now pewho read merely that the)

rused only by young students,

may

learn to write
ct that

and

of the

Carmen

Secular*,

might praise or rcirarc

it l>y

canm

caprice,

PRIOR.

16S

who can be supposed

without danger of -detection; for

hare laboured through

work was

this neglected

into

it ?

Latin by no

so popular, that

common

His poem on the

tedious by the form

it

was

battle

of Kamillies

of the stanza

is

necessarily

an uniform mass of ten

and

slight-

must weary both the ear and the understan-

His imitation of Spenser, which consists pi'incipall^

ding.
in

translated

master.

lines thirty-five times repeated, inconsequential

ly connected,

to

Yet the time has been when

I wee?i and I

speech,

makes

mention of

picable

without exclusion of later modes of

poem

Bellona, and his comparison of

the Eagle

to

all

His

neither ancient nor modern.

Mars and

Marlborough
Jupiter, are

iveet^

his

that

bears the thunder of

puerile and unaffecting

and yet more des-

the long tale told by Lewis in his despair, of

is

Brute and Troynovante, and the teeth

his similies of the raven and eagle,

of

Cadmus, with

and wolf and

lion.

By

the help' of such easy fictions, and vulgar topics, without

acquaintance with
nature, a

may

poem

life,

and without knowledge

any length, cold and

of

of art or

lifeless like this,

be easily written on any subject.

In his epilogues to Pficedra and to Lucius he

happily facetious

is

verv

but in the prologue before the queen,

the pedant has found his way, with Minerva, Perseus, and

Andromeda.
His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others,

sometimes elegant, sometimes

trifling,

and sometimes dull

amongst the best are the Camelion, and the epitaph on

John and Joan.
Scarcely any. one of our poets has written so
translated so
ficiently

little:

licentious

hortation to charity

the
the.
is

much and

version of Callimachus

paraphrase on

eminently beautiful.

St.

is

suf-

Paul's

ex-

PRIOR.

164

Alma

written

is

in

professed imitation of Hudibras, and

has at least one accidental resemblance: Hudibras want'

a plan, because

because

pears not

it

imperlect

lest

is

seems never

it

i9

imperfect,

have had a plan.

to

have proposed

to

Alma

to

Prior ap-

himself any drift or

de-

but to have written the casual dictates of the presen'

moment.

What Horace

said,

when he imitated

Lucilius, might

be said of Butler by Prior, his numbers were not smooth

Prior excelled him in versification

or neat.

Horace, invmiorc minor

like

berance of matter and variety o f

gles of

which he could

t it

but he was,

he had not Butler's exu-

The

illustration.

afford he

knew how

but he wanted the bullion of his master.

that

stamp. Prior has comparatively

he makes a

little

fine

shew.

mirers, and was the only piece

Solomon
of Ids

the

work

to

but care-

has

Prior's

to be

but with

little,

Alma

among

which Pope said that he should wish

many

ad-

works

which he intrusted the protection

His affection was natural

to

had

it

undoubtedly been written with great labour; and who

wUling

to

think that he has been labouring

had infused
had

into

it

it

it

it

many

power

all

of engaging attention

Tediousness

is

it

it

with

to sublimity

Ik

excellences, and did not discover that

wanted that without which

the

Hr

vain?

to elegance, often dignified

splendour, and sometimes heightened

in

in

much knowledge and much thought

often polished

perceived

ol

the author.

name, and which he expected succeeding ages

regard with veneration.

Butler pours

out a negligent profusion, certa-n of the weight,

less of the

span-

to polish

others are of small avail'

and alluring

curiosity.

the most fatal of all faults; negligence.,

or errors are single ind local, but tcdiousness pervade^

"he whole

other faults are censured and forgotten, but the

PRIOR.

power
the

first

hour,

is

He

more weary the second

more

that

weary

is

as bodies forced

motion contrary to their tendency

into

pass more

and

slowly through every successive interval of space.

Unhappily
thor

165

of tediousness px-opagates itself.

is

this pernicious failure

to ourselves

is

We

least able to discover.

that which an au-

are seldom tiresome

and the aci of composition

fills

and delights

the mind with change of language and succession of images; every couplet

the great

when produced

thought a line superfluous

tracted his work

And

ded.

even

when he

still

himself: and

he should controul

if

find

he consults

men who have more

is

wrote

it,

or con-

had

his desire of

subsi-

imme-

work nine years unpublished,

the author, and

if

first

his ebullitions of invention

till

diate renown, and keep his

he will be

new, and novelty

is

Perhaps no man ever

source of pleasure.

still in

danger

his friends,

of deceiving

he will probably

kindness that judgment, or more

fear to offend than desire to instruct.

The

tediousness of this

poem proceeds

uniformity of the subject, for

it is

not from the

sufficiently

but from the continued tenour of the narration

diversified,
;

Solomon relates the suscessive vicissitudes of

in

which

own

his

mind, without the intervention of any other speaker, or

the mention of any other agent, unless

reader

is

only to learn

that he thought wrong.

foreseen,

it

be Abra

what he thought, and

The

the

to be told

event of every experiment

and therefore the process

is

not

is

much regard-

ed.

Yet the work

He

is

be neglected.

far

from deserving

to

it

will be able to

mark many

that shall peruse

sages to which he

may

many from which

the poet

pas-

recur for instruction or delight;

may

philosopher to reason,
o

learn to write, and the

166

PRIOR.

If Prior's poetry
will

be generally considered, his praise

be that of correctness and industry, rather than of

compass, of comprehension, or activity of fancy.

never made any

effort of invention

are only tissues of

which

common

his

own.

He

his greater pieces

thoughts; and his smaller,

images or single conceits, are not

consist of light

Always

have traced him among the French

epigrammatists, and have been informed that he poach-

ed

for

delier

The Thief and Cor-

prey among obscure authors.

I

is,

suppose, generally considered as an original

production;

with how

much

justice

this

may

epigram

which was written by Georgius Sabinus, a poet now

tell,
little

known

or read, though once the friend of

and Melancthon

De

Luthc

Sacerdote Fitrem consolante.

Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus euntem

Hue ubi dat sonies carnificina neci,
"Ne sis mccstus, ait summi conviva Tonantis
Jam curn ccelitibus (si mojo credis) eris.
;

gemens, si vera mihi

Hosres apud superous

llle

solatia prxbes,
sis

meus

oro, refert.

Sacrificus contra; mihi non convivia fas est

Duccrc, jejunans

What

liac

edo luce

nihil.

he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his

judgment.

His diligence has justly placed him amongst

was one

the most correct of the English poets; and he

the

first

that resolutely endeavoured at correctness.

never sacrifices accuracy

to haste, nor indulges

of

Ik

himself in

contemptuous negligence, or impatient idleness: he has no

Carries* line*, or entangled

sentiments; his

word.- ait

nicelj selected, and his thoughts fully expanded.

part of his character

suffers an

abatement,

from the disproportion of his rhymes,

it

If thi-

must be

which have

nol

always sufficient consonance, and from the admission

ot

prior.
broken lines

in

Solomon

to his

ley

but perhaps he thought,

Cowley, that hemistichs ought

like

be admitted into

to

heroic poetry.

He had

apparently such rectitude

of

judgment

as

secured him from every thing that approached to the

ridiculous or absurd

but as laws operate in civil agen-

cy not to the excitement of virtue, but the repression of

wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect

can hinder faults, but not produce excellence.

never, low, nor very often sublime.

It

is

Prior

is

said by Longi-

nus of Euripides, that he forces himself sometimes into

grandeur by violence

of effort, as the

own

fury by the lashes of his

above mediocrity seems the

tains

of

He

toil.

has

many

vigorous but few

happy

ment

among

however,

the successors of

Dryden

commodious modes

he

he borrows no lucky

of language,

His phrases

times harsh

queathed.

His expression has every

ai'e

from his pre-

original, but they are

some

as he inherited no elegances, none has he be-

mark

of laborious

the line seldom seems to have been formed at

come

the words did not

were then put by constraint

do

he had

more his own than of any

is

decessors.

muse, no infusions of senti-

-visitations of the

diction,

turns, or

once

lines

or felicities of fancy.

His

study

gift

ob-

and

effort of struggle

has every thing by purchase, and nothing by

no nightly

kindles his

lion

Whatever Prior

tail.

their duty, but

positions there

do

till

they were called, and

into their places,

sullenly.

it

may be found more

where they

In his greater comrigid stateliness than

graceful dignity.

Of versification he was
from Dryden he did not
difficulty

of writing

not negligent;

lose

what he received

neither did he increase the

by unnecessary severity, but uses

PRIOR.

168
triplets

and Alexandrines without scruple.

face

Solomon he

to

extending ihe

sense

his

from one couplet

interrupted

sense as less distinct

He

to another,

with

lines

are unpleasing, and his

less striking.

is

has altered the stanza of Spenser, as a house

altered by building another in

With how

torm.

new

In his pre*

some improvements, by

This he has attempted, but without

variety of pauses.

success

proposes

little

its

is

place of a different

resemblance he has formed

hit

stanza to that of his master, these specimens will

shew

SPENSER.
She

from Heaven's hated

flying fast

And from

face.

the world that her discovered wid:,

Fled to the wasteful wilderness apace,

From living eye9 her open shame to hide,

And lurk'd in rocks and eaves long unespy'd.
But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair,
Did

in that castle

afterwards abide,

To rest themselves, ami weary power repair,

Where store they found of all, that dainty was and

rare

TRIO It.

To the close rock the frighted raven flies,

Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air
The baggy wolf unseen and trembling lies,
:

When

the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near.

we our forts and Vines forsake,

Ill-sUrr'd did

To

dare our British foes to open fight

Our conquest we by Btratajjean should make

Our triumph hail been founded in our flight.
'Tis ours, by craft and by surprise to gain

Til

By

this

difficulties;

power

meet

their's to

in

arms, and battle

new structure
nor

am

of pleasing

sure

of his
th.it

in

line6
lie

has

the plain.

he

has

lost

avoided

any of the

but he no longer imitates Spenser.;

PRIOR.

Some

of his

measure;

for,

169

poems are written without

when he commenced

regularity of

had not

poet, he

recovered from our Pindaric infatuation

but he probably

lived to be convinced, that the essence cf verse

is

order

and consonance.
His numbers are such as mere diligence
they seldom offend the ear,

commonly want
smooth

seldom

A
plify

is

airiness, lightness,

not soft.

may

and seldom 'sooth

and

facility

His verses always

roll,

attain

it ;
:

they

what

is

but they

flow.

survey of the

life

when he read Horace

retains the scent

relaxation

and writings of Prior

may exem-

which he doubtless understood

a sentence

which

at his uncle's
it

first

" the

receives."

he revived the tavern, and

pedantry he exhibited the college.

casions and nobler subjects,

by the necessity of

when

reflection,

well,

vessel long-

In his private
in his

amorous

But on higher oc-

habit

was overpowered

he wanted not wisdom as a

statesman, or elegance as a poet.

CONGREVE.

WlLLIAM CONGREVE
in

Staffordshire,

descended from a famHj

of so great antiquity that

among the few that extend

Norman conquest; and was the son
place

it

claims a

their line beyond the

of

William Congreve,

second son of Richard Congreve, of Congreve and Strat-

He

ton.

tors
in

visited,

and,

once at

believe,

least, the residence of his

more places than one are

groves and gardens, where he

his

is

still

ances-

shewn,

related to have written

Oh! Bachelor.

Neither the time nor place

known;
that he

the inscription upon his

if

was born

of his birth are certainly

in

1672.

owed

monument be
it

his nativity to lv. gland,

was born

else that he

Tor the place,

in Ireland.

with sharp censure, as a

native country.

The

Bardso, near Lcpds

in

man

was

true, he

said by himself,

and by every body

Southern

mentioned him

that meanly disowned lib

biographers assign his nativity to

Yorkshire, from the account given

by himself, as they suppose, to Jacob.

To

doubt whether a

about his
in

own

candour

birth,

man

is, in

of

eminence has

appearance,

to

told the truth

be very deficient

yet nobody can live long without

knowing

thai

falsehoods of convenience or vanity, falsehoods from which

no evil immediately visible ensues, except the general

degradation of

human

tesimony, are very lightly uttered,

and once uttered, arc sullenly supported.

Boileau

who

CONGREVE.

171

desired to be thought a rigorous and steady moralist, having

Lewis XIV. continued

told a petty lie to

false dates

afterwards by

it

thinking himself obliged in honour, says his

admirer, to maintain what, when he said

was

it,

so well

received.

Wherever Congreve was

born, he

was educated

first

at

Kilkenny, and afterwards at Dublin, his father having

some military employment that stationed him

in

Ireland

but, after having passed through the usual preparatory

may

studies, as

be reasonably supposed, with great cele-

and success,

rity

his father thought

proper to assign

it

him a profession by which something might be gotten

and

about the time of the revolution sent him, at the age of

sixteen, to study

law

in the

for several years, but

middle temple, where he lived

with very

little

attention to statutes

or reports.

His disposition to become an author appeared very early

as he very early felt that force of imagination, and pos-

sessed that copiousness of sentiment, by which intellectual

pleasure can be given. His

called Incognita,

first

praised by the biographers,

preface, that
judicious.

His

first

which he

performance was a noveh.

Love and Dutij

or

who

rctunciled

indeed, for such a time of

is,

would rather praise

it

it

life,

than read

uncommonly
it.

dramatic labour was The Old Bachelor

says, in his defence against Collier,

acted.

stage
a

fit

was
I,

When

but did

it

of sickness.

seen,

and

in

through the

to

wrote

itgl

had

amuse myself

in

little

little

remainder

time more
of

my

it

thoughts of the

a slow recovery from

Afterwards, through

some

of

" that come-

dy was written, as several know, some years before

was

is

quote some part of the

my
it

indiscretion,

was acted

indiscretion,

myself to be drawn into the prosecution of a

it

and

suffered

difficult

and

CONCRETE.

171

thankless study, and to be involved in a perpetual war

With knaves and fools."

There seems
appearing

to

to be a strange affectation in authors of

have done ever) thing by chance.

Baclnlor was written

Vet

convalescence.

for

amusement

in

The Old

the languor of

apparently composed with great

it is

elaborateness of dialogue, and incessant ambition of wit.

The age

of the

writer considered,

wonderful performance
acted
old

indeed a very

is

it

whenever written,

for,

and was then recommended by Mr. Dryden, Mr.

Southern, and Mr. Mainwaring.

Dryden

never had seen such a

but they found

cient in
tion,

it

play

first

some things requisite

to relate of

when Congreve read

had almost rejected

that, for half a year before

Few
for

it

its

it

but

excellence,

was acted, the manager

it

author the privilege of the house.

plays have ever been so beneficial to the writer

procured him the patronage of Halifax,

diately

this,

he pronounced

to the players,

so wretchedly, that they

its

exhibi-

one comedy, probably of

it

he

defi-

it

fitted it for the stage.

they were afterwards so well persuaded of

allowed

said, that

to the success of its

and by their greater experience

Southern used
that,

was

it

693) when he was not more than twenty -one years

made him one

of the

commissioners

coaches, and soon after gave him a place

and anothef

in

in

who immefor licensing

the pipe-office,

the customs of six hundred pounds a year.

Congreve's conversation must surely have been at

least

equally pleasing with his writings.

Such a comedy, written

some consideration.

As

the

an

age, requires

lighter species of dramatic

poetry professes the imitation

manners, and daily incidents,

a familiar knowledge- of

such

at

of

common

life,

of real

it

apparently presupposes

many

characters, and exact

CONCRETE.

175

observation of the passing world; the difficulty therefore

is,

to

conceive

But

if

how

this

knowledge can beobtainded by a

boy.

The Old Bachelor be more nearly examined,

will be found to be one of those comedies

made by a mind

vigorous

it

which may be

and acute, and furnished wick

comic characters by the perusal cf other poets, without

much

actual

commerce with mankind. The dialogue

is

one constant reciprocation cf conceits, or clash of wit, in

which nothing flows necessarily from the occasion, or

dictated by nature.

The char caters

bot!> of

is

men and wo-

men

are either fictitious and artificial, as those of Heart-

well

and the ladies; or easy and common, as Wiitol a

tame

ideot,

Bluff a swaggering coward, and Fondle ivift

a jealous puritan

and the catastrophe arises from a mis-

take not very probably produced, by marrying a

in

woman

a mask.

Yet

made, will
tile

gay comedy, when

this

still

all

these deductions are

remain the work of very powerful and fer-

faculties; the dialogue

quick and sparkling, the in-

is

cidents such as seize the attention, and the wit so exuberant, that

it

"o'er-informs

its

tenement."

Next year he gave another specimen of his abilities in

The Double Dealer, which was not received with equal
kindness.

He

dication, in

which he endeavours

that

writes to his patron the lord Halifax a deto reconcile the

reader to

which found few friends among the audience. These

apologies are always useless

"de

gustibus non est dispu-

tandum ;" men may be convinced, but they cannot be

pleased, against their will.
it

is

But though taste

is

obstinate,

very variable; and time often prevails when argu-

ments have

failed.

Queen Mary conferred upon both

of her presence

VOL.

II.

and when she

those plays the honour

died, soon after,

Congreve

CONGREVE

17*

by a despicable effusion of eligiac

testified his gratitude

pastoral

a composition in which all

yet nothing

is

unnatural, and

is

new.

In another year (169 5) his prolific pen produced Love

Love

for

biting

comedy

more real

of nearer alliance to

manners than either

ijf

life,

and exhi-

the former.

The

character of Fortnight was then common. Dryden calculated nativities

both Cromwell and king William had

their lucky days;

no religion,

was

and Shaftsbury himself, though he had

said to regard predictions.

not accounted very natural,

With

this play

but he

was opened

the

new

direction of Betterton the tragedian

The

Sailor

theatre,

under the

where he exhibited

two years afterwards (1687) The Mourning Bride, a

gedy, so written as to show him

is

very pleasant.

is

tra-

sufficiently qualified for

either kind of dramatic poetry.

In this play, of which,
lie

when

reduced the versification

more

lie

afterwards revised

to greater regularity,

bustle than sentiment, the plot

is

we

is

busy and intricate,

and the events take hold on the attention

very few passages,

it,

there

but except a

are rather amused with noise, and

perplexed with stratagem, than entertained with any true

however, WAS

This,

delineation of natural characters.

received with more benevolence than any other of his

vorks, and

still

continues to be acted and applauded.

But whatever

ebjectious

may

be

made

comic or tragic excellence, they are

blaze of admirat'on,

when

it is

either to his

lost at

duced these four plays before he had passed

fifth

in

the

his twenty-

year, before other men, even such as are some time

to shine in

rature, or
iis

once

remembered that he had pro-

is

eminence, have passed their probation of

presume

to

lite-

hope for any other notice than such

bestowed on diligence and inquiry.

Among

all

the

CONGREVE.
efforts of early

175'

genius which literary history records, I

doubt whether any one can be produced that more surpasses the

common

limits of nature than the

plays of

Congreve.

About

began the long continued controversy

this time

In the reign of Charles

between Collier and the poets.

the

first

had raised a

the Puritans

violent

clamour against

the drama, which they considered as an entertainment

them in comRome; and Prynne published

not lawful to Christians) an opinion held by

mon with

the church of

Histrio-Mastixy a huge volume,

were censured.

The

in

which stage-plays

outrages and crimes of the Puritans

brought afterwards their whole eystem of doctrine into disrepute, and from the restoration the poets and players were

at quiet; for to have molested-them would have had

left

the appearance of tendency to puritanical malignity.

This danger, however, was worn away by time

Collier,

a fierce and implacable nonjuror,

attack upon the theatre would never

for

knew

and

that an

make him suspected

a puritan; he therefore (1698) published

short

-viciD-

of the Immorality and Profanencss of the English Stage,

I

believe with no other motive than religious zeal and

honest indignation.

He was formed

with sufficient learning

though often vulgar and incorrect

pertinacity
castic

by

with wit

and with

for a controvertist

with diction vehement and pointed,

in

with unconquerable

the highest degree keen and sar-

all those

powers exalted and invigorated

just confidence in his cause.

Thus qualified, and

and assailed
den

to

at once

D'Urfey.

thus incited, he walked out to battle,

most of the living writers, from Dry-

His onset was

which while they stood

single

violent

those passages,

had passed with

when they were accumulated, and exposed

little

notice,

together, exci-

CONGKEYK.

176

cu horror

the wise and the pious caught the alarm

why

the nation wondered

and licentiousness

to

it

had

ami

so long suffered irreligion

be openly taught at the public charge-

Nothing now remained

for the poets but to resist or

fly.

Oryden's conscience, or his prudence, angry as he was,

withheld him from the conflict

Congreve and Vanbrugh

attempted answers. Congreve, a very young man, elated

with success, and impatient of censure, assumed an aire/

confidence and security.

is

to retort

His chief

artifice of controversy

upon his adversary his own words

he

is

very

angry, and, hoping to conquer Collier with his own weapons, allows himself

and contempt

in

Scandcrbeg; he has
his strength.

the use of every term of contumely

but he has the sword without the

arm

of

his antagonist's coarseness, but not

Collier replied

for contest

was

his delight

he was not to be frighted from his purpose or his p

The cause of Congreve was not tenable ; whatever
glosses he

might use

for the

defence or palliation of single

passages, the general tenour and tendency of his ptoys

must always he condemned.

\

usal con\icti.m,

i.o

man

better
tsure

obligations by

The

It

is

acknowledged, with uni-

that the perusal of his

and that
in

works

their ultimate effect

will
is

make

to rcpre-

alliance with \ice, and to relax those.

which

life

ought to be regulated.

stage found other advocates, and the dispute was

protracted through ten years; but at last comedy grew

more modest; and

labour

Of

in

Collier lived

to see the

reward

of his

the reformation of the theatre.

the powers by which this important victory was

:.rhicvcd, a quotation from

mark upon

it,

may

afford a

Love for
specimen

JL^vc,

" Sir Sam/i*. Sampson': a very good

'logs

and the

name;

from the beginsiog

for

re

CONGREVE.
"Angel. Have a care

Sampson

of your

name

177

remember, the strongest

If you

pull'd an old house over his

head

at last !"

"Here you have

the Sacred History burlesqued,

Sampson once more brought

make

into the house of

Congreve's

last

play was

with great labour and

T'he

in his

much

way of

dedication

the
it

World

was written

was received with

thought,

and

so little favour, that, being in a high degree offended

disgusted, he resolved to

to

|"

sport for the Philistines

which, though as he hints

and

Dagon,

commit

his quiet

and

his fam'j

no more to the caprices of an audience.

From

this

for himself

able to

time his

and

life

ceased to the puplic

for his friends,

name every man

gance had raised

to

and among

of his

reputation

time
it

whom

may

he lived

was

his friends

wit and ele-

be therefore rea-

sonably supposed that his manners were polite and hi?

conversation pleasing.

He

seems not

to

have taken much pleasure

in writing,

as he contributed nothing to the Spectator, and only one.

paper

to the Tatlcr,

though published by

he might be supposed willing to associate

lived

many years

men with whom

;

and though he

after the publication of his misscellaneous

poems, yet he added nothing

engaged

to

them, but lived on

with no

neither soliciting flattery by public

rival,

in

lite-

no controversy, contending

rary indolence

com-

mendations, nor provoking enmity by malignant criticism,

but passing his time

among the great and

splendid, in the

placid enjoyment of his fame and fortune.

Having owed
ways

his fortune to Halifax,

of his patron's party, but, as

it

lence or acrimony; and his firmness

teemed, as his

abilities

he continued

was naturally

were l-everenced.

p2

al-

seems, without vioes-

His security

CONGBEVE.

173

therefore

was never

sion of the whigs,

violated

and when upon the extru-

some intercession was used

Congreve

lest

made

should be displaced, the carl of Oxford

answer

this

" Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora I'ccni,

Nee tain aversus cqaos Tyria sol jungit ab urbe."

He

that

was thus honoured by the adverse party might

when

naturally expect to be advanced

to

his friends returned

power, and he was accordingly made secretary

island of

Jamaica

a place,

suppose, without

care, but which, with his post in the customs,

for the

trust or
is

said to

have afforded him twelve hundred pounds a year.

His honours were yet far greater than his

profits.

Every writer mentioned him with respect; and, among

other testimonies to his merit, Steele
of his miscellany,

and Pope inscribed

made him the patron

him his translation

to

of the Iliad.

But he treated the Muses with ingratitude;

for,

having

long conversed familiarly with the great, he wished to be

considered rather as a

when he received

man

visit

of fashion

than of wit; and,

from Voltaire, disgusted him

b\

the despicable foppery of desiring to be considered not as

an author but a gentleman

plied,

not

"that

if

have come

to

which the Frenchman re-

he had been only a gentleman, he should

to visit hira."

In his retirement he

may be supposed

to

have applied

himself to books; for he discovers more literature than

the poets have
in his latter

commonly

attained.

But

days obstructed by cataracts

at last terminated in blindness.

was aggravated by the

gout, for

his studies

in his

This melancholy

which he sought

a journey to Bath; but being overturned

complained from that time of a pain

were

eyes, which

in his

in his side,

state

relief by
chariot,

and died,

CONGREVE.
at-

his house in Surrey-street in the Strand, January

Having

172S-9.

lain in state in the

2-9j

Jerusalem chamber,

in

Westminster-abbey, where a monument

erected to his

memory by Henrietta duchess of Marlfor reasons either not known or not men-

he was buried
is

179

borough, to

he bequeathed a legacy of about ten thousand

tioned,

pounds

the accumulation of attentive parsimony, which

though

whom,

to

her superfluous and useless, might have given

great assistance to the ancient family from which he de-

scended, at that time by the imprudence of his relation

reduced

to difficulties

Congreve

speak

distress.

has merit of the highest kind; he

original ^writer,
plot nor the

and

who borrowed

manner

of his dialogue.

Of

distinctly, for since I inspected

have passed; but what remains upon

his characters are

very

little of

commonly

nature and not

is

an

neither the models of his

fictitious

much

of

his plays I

cannot

them many years

my memory
and

is,

artificial,

life.

He

that

with

formed a

peculiar idea of comic excellence, which he supposed to

consist in

gay remarks and unexpected answers

which he endeavoured he seldom

His scenes exhibit not much
sion

of

but that

failed of performing.

humour, imagery, or pas-

his personages are a kind of intellectual gladiators;

every sentence

is

to

ward

is

and

fro with alternate

therefore,

in

or strike

the contest of smart-

his wit is

a meteor playing t

coruscations.

His comedies have

never intermitted

ness

some degree, the operation

of tragedies

they surprize rather than divert, and raise admiration

oftener than merriment.

replete with images

Of his

But they. are the works of a mind

and quick

in

combination.

miscellaneous poetry I cannot say any thing very

favourable.

The powers

of

Congreve seem

to desert

him

CONGKEYl

18*

when he leaves

the stage, as Antrcus was no longer strong

than when he could touch the ground.

cannot be observ-

It

ed without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and

fertile

in

dramatic compositions should on any other occasion discover nothing but impotence and povert]

lie has In

pieces neither elevation of far.cy, selection of lan-

little

guage, nor

skill in versification;

yet,

if I

were required

to

from the whole mass of English poetry the most

^lcct

:nation in

know

what

The Mourning Bride

poetical paragraph,

not

could prefer to an

ALMEIUA.
It

was a fancy'd noise

It

bore the accent of a

for all

is

hush'd

LEONORA.

human

voice

ALMEIUA.
It

was thy

fear, or else

some

transient wind

Whistling thro' hollows of this vaulted

We'll listen

ais'.s

LEONOKA
i

the-

lark

ALMERIA.

No, all is hush'd and still as death. 'Tis dreadful'

reverend is the bee of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear alofi its archM and pond'rous roof,
By its own freight nude steadfast and immoveable.
Looking tranquillity it strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
A.nd shoot a ChiioeM to my trembling heart.
(Jive me thy hand and let me hear thy voice,
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let mc hear

How

Thy

voice

my own affrights me with

its

echoes

CONGREVE.

He who

powers
before

but he

he

fells

feels
it

what he remembers

to

have

the
felt

with great increase of sensibility

he recognizes a familiar image, but meets

fiecl

moment

reads these lines enjoys for a

of a poet

181

again ampli-

it

and expanded, embellished with beauty and enlarged

with majesty.

Yet could the author who appears here

have enjoyed

to

the confidence of nature, lament the death of queen

in lines like

these

Mary

The rocks are cleft, and new descending rills

J'urrow the brows of all th' impending hills.
The water-gods to floods their rivulets turn,
And each, with streaming eyes, supplies his wanting urn.
The fauns forsake the woods, the nymphs the grove,
And round the plain in sad distractions rove ;
In prickly brakes their tender limbs they tear,

And

leave on thorns their locks, of golden hair.

With

their sharp nails, themselves the Satyrs

And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with

wound,

grief the ground*

Lo Pan himself, beneath a blasted oak,

Dejected lies, his pipe in pieces broke.
See Pales weeping too, in wild despair,
And to the piercing winds her bosom bare.
And see yon fading myrtle, where appears
The queen of love, all bath'd in flowing tears
See how she, wrings her hands, and beats her
And tears her useless girdle from her waist
Hear the sad murmurs of her sighing doves
For grief they sigh, forgetful of their loves.

breast,..

\nd,

many years

improved

marquis

his

of

after,

wisdom

he gave no proof that time had

ov his wit; for on the death of kh6.

Blandford this was his song

And now the winds' which had so long been

Began the swelling air with sighs to fill

slill,

COXGREYK.

162

The water-nymphs, who

Like images of

Now
Itoll

motionless remained,

while she complain'd,

ice,

loos'd their streams

as

when descending

rains.

the steep torrents headlong o'er the plains.

The prone creation who so long had gaz'd,

Charm'd with her cries, and at her griefs amaz'd,
Began to roar and howl with horrid yell,
Dismal to hear, and terrible to tell
Nothing but groans and sighs were heard around,.

And echo

multiplied each mournful sound.

many

In both these funeral poems,

when he

syllables of senseless dolour,

he dismisses his reader with

senseless consolation
light that

hast/?//erf out

from the grave of Pastora

Amyntas, from every tear sprung up a

But William

is

It

catch,

for

violet.

His hero, and of William he will sing

The hovering winds on downy wings

And

rises a

forms a star; and where Amaryllis wept

and waft

hall wait around,

to foreign lands, the flying

sound

cannot but be proper to show what they shall hare to

catch and carry

'Twas now, when flowery lawns the prospect mad.-.

And

flowing brooks beneath a forest-shade,

lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd,
Stood feeding by whilst two fierce bulls prcpar'd
Their armed heads for fight, by fate of war to pro\ B
The victor worthy of the fair one's love ;
Untliought presage of what met next my view
For soon the shady scene withdrew.
And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers,
Behold a town arise, bulwarked with walls and iofty towers
Two rival armies all the plain o'erspread,
KftCkh in battalia rang'd, and shining arms arraj'd
With eager eyes beholding both from far
5mur, the prize and mistress of the war.

CONGREVB.
The Birth of
good line

it

has,

the

Muse

is

183

a miserable

One

fiction.

which was borrowed from Dryden. The

concluding verses are these

This said, no more remain'd. Th' ethereal host

Again impatient crowd the crystal coast.

The

father now, within his spacious hands,

Encompass'd all the mingled mass of seas and lands
And, having heav'd aloft the ponderous sphere,

He

Of
seems

launch'd the world, to

float in

ambient

his irregular poems, that to

air.

Mrs. Arabella Hunt

be the best: his ode for St. Cecilia's Day, how-

to

some

ever, has

lines

which Pope had

in his

mind when' he

wrote his own.

His imitations of Horace are feebly paraphrastical, and

He

some*

times retains what were more properly omitted, as

when

the additions which he

he talks

Of

of

makes

are of little value.

vervian and gwns to propitiate Venus.

his translations, the satire of Juvenal

very early, and

may

was written

therefore be forgiven, though

not the massiness and vigour of the original.

versions strength and sprightliness are wanting

to Venus,

from Homer,

weakened with

is

perhaps the best.

expletives, and his

it

have

all his

his

Hymn

In

His

lines

are

rhymes are frequently

imperfect.

His petty poems are seldom worth the

sometimes the thoughts are

false,

cost of criticism

In his verses on lady Gethin, the latter part

of

and sometimes common.

Dryden 's ode on Mrs. Killigrew

is in

imitation

and Doris, that has

been so lavishly flattered by Steele, has indeed some lively

stanzas, but the expression might be

mended; and the

most striking part of the character had been already

shown

in

Love for Love. His Art of Pleasing

is

founded

on a vulgar, but perhaps impracticable, principle, and the

CONGRK\

li-i

staleness of the sense

tissue

of poetry,

lasting

name,

hoped a
as

it

appencd

is

know

sung or a

and known only

to hib plays.

While comedy,

from which he seems to have

totally neglected,

is

or while tragedy,

are likely to be read

^tage,

not concealed by any novelty of

elegance of diction.

illustration or

This

is

not that

is

regarded, his plays

except* what relates to the

but,

he has ever written a stanza that

couplet that

ter of his miscellanies

is
is,

quoted.

The

general charac-

that they show

little

wit and

little virtue.

Vet

to

him

must be cofessed that we are indebted

it

for

the correction of a national error, and for the cure of our

Pindaric madness.

He

taught the English writers

first

that Pindar's odea were regular; and though certainly he

had not the

fire

poetry, he has

and that

in

tequisite for the higher species of lyric

shown

mere

us, that

enthusiasm has

confusion there

is

its

rule9,

neither grace

nor

greatness.

*" Except
of poetry

?"'

Dr. Warton exclaims, " Is not this a high sort

He mentions likewise that Congreve's opera, or

!"

Oratoria, of Scmele
174S. L.

was

set to

music by Handel,

believe

hi

BLACKMORE.
SlR RICHARD BLACKMORE
men whose writings have
whose

attracted

and manners very

life

cated, and

whose

lot it

little

much

oftencr

friends.

was the son of Robert Blackmore of Corsham

Wiltshire, styled by
to

notice, but of

has been communi-

has been to be

mentioned by enemies than by

He

one of those

is

much

in

Wood, gentleman, and supposed

have been an attorney. Having been for some time

educated in a country-school, he was sent

Westminster; and

in

at thirteen to

Edmunds
M. A.
a much longer

1668 was entered at

Hall in Oxford, where he took the degree of

June

3,

1676, and resided thirteen years;

time than

it

is

usual to spend at the university

which he seems

have passed with very

to

tion to the business of the place

ancient

names of nations or

for, in his

places,

duces, are pronounced by chance.

and

atten-

poems, the

which he often pro-

He

afterwards tra-

Padua he was made doctor of physic and,

having wandered about a year and a half on the

velled
after

little

at

continent, returned

home.

In some part of his

life,

it

is

not

known when,

his

indigence compelled him to teach a school, an humiliation with which,

though

it

certainly lasted but a

while, his enemies did not forget to reproach him,

he became conspicuous enough

and

let it

be remembered

to excite

for his

little

when

malevolence

honour, that to have

been once a school-master is the only reproach which

Vol. II.
Q

BLACKHOBE.

Itfo

the perspicacity of malice, animated by

nil
.

fixed

c-r

upon

"When he

his private

engaged

first

\\ it,

has

life.

in the

study of physic, he

Sydenham, what authors

and was directed by Sydenham to Don

inquired, as he says, of Dr.

he should read,

Quixote
read

it

" which)** said he, u

The

still."

often mischievous in

merriment

is

a very

good book

pervcrsencss of mankind makes

men

it

of eminence to give way to

the idle and the illiterate will long shelter

themselves under

this foolish

"Whether he rested

apophthegm.

satisfied with this direction, or

sought for better, he commenced physician, and obtained high eminence and extensive practice.
fellow

He became
U,

of the college of physicians, April

1687,

being one of the thirty Which, by the new charter of

king James, were added

former

to the

His re-

fellows.

sidence was in Cheapside,* and his friends were chiefly

In the early part of Blackmore's time, a

in the city.

citizen

was

term of reproach

and his place of abode

was another topic to which his adversaries had

course, in the penury of scandal.
Blackmore, therefore, was made
sity

For

but inclination, and wrote not

fame; or

if

bler purpose, to
I believe

it

is

he

may

tell his

engage poetry

'

re-

by neces-

a poet not

for a livelihood but

own motives,
in the

for a no-

cause of virtue.

peculiar to him, that his

first

public

work was an heroic poem. He was not known as a

maker of verses till he published (in 1695) Prince
Arthur, in ten books, written, as he relates,

**

by such

catches and starts, and in such occasional uncertain

hours, as his profession afforded, and for the grca'
part in coffee-houses, or in passing
*

At Saddler's Hall

up and down the

BLACKMORE.
For the

streets."

187

apology he was-

latter part of this

accused of writing " to the rumbling of his chariotwheels."

He

had read, he

throughout his whole

life

says, " but little poetry

and for

fifteen years before

had not written an hundred verses, except one copy of

Latin verses in praise of a friend's book."

He

thinks, and with

some

reason, that from such a

performance perfection cannot be expected

but he

finds another reason for the severity of his censurers,

which he expresses
easily furnished. " I

language such as Cheapside

in

am

not free of the poets' company,

having never kissed the governor's hands

therefore not so

much

as a

mine

ia

permission-poem but a

downright interloper. Those gentlemen who carry on

their poetical trade in a joint stock

what they could

turer, notwithstanding I disturbed

ries,

would

certainly do

and ruin an unlicensed adven-

to sink

none of their

facto-

nor imported any goods they have ever dealt in."

He

had lived in the city till he had learnt its note.

That Prince Arthur found many readers is certain
for in two years it had three editions
a very uncom;

mon

instance of favourable reception, at a time

literary curiosity

was yet confined

when

to particular classes

of the nation. Such success naturally raised animosity

and Dennis attacked

it

tedious and disgusting than the

demns.
tion of

by a formal criticism, more

work which he con-

To

this censure may be opposed the approbaLocke and the admiration of Molineux, which

are found in their printed

larly delighted with the

letters.

Molineux

is

song of Mofias, which

particuis

there-

fore subjoined to this narrative.

It is

remarked by Pope,

often sinks the

man."

that

what "

Of Blackmore

raises the hero

it

may be

said,

BLACKMORE.

188

poet sinks, the

that, as the

sions of Dennis,

were, raised
his critic

insolent

man

the animadver-

him no implacable resentment

in

were afterwards friends

and

in

he and

one of his

as equal to Boileau in

works he praises Dennis

latter

rises

and contemptuous as they

him in critical abilities."

have been more delighted with praise

poetry, and superior to

He seems

to

than pained by censure, and, instead of slackening,

quickened

Having

his career.

in

two years produced

two years more (1697)

he sent into the world King Arthur, in twelve. The

books of Prince Arthur,

ten

provocation was
wits and critics

proportion.

He

equivalent to

all

in

now doubled, and the resentment

may be supposed to have increased
found) however, advantages
their outrages

one of the physicians

advanced by him

he was

in ordinary to

to the

of
in

more than

this year

made

king William, and

honour of knighthood, with the

present of a gold chain and a medal.

The
his

to

malignity of the wits attributed his knighthood

new poem

studious of poetry

but king William was not

cry

and Blackmorc perhaps had other

merit, for he says, in his dedication to Alfred, that "lie

had

greater part in the succession of the house of

Hanover than ever he had boasted."

What Blackmorc could contribute

the succession,

to

what he imagined himself to have contributed, cannot now be known. That he had been of considerable

or

iej

doubt not but he belie* ed,

for

hold him to have

\ry honest; but he might easily

stimate of his
restrains

own importance

those-

make

whom

a false

their

vii

from deceiving others arc often disposed

by their vanity to deceive themselves.

Whether he

promoted the succession or not, he at least approved

BLACKMORE.
it,

189

and adhered invaluably to his principles and

through

his

whole

His ardour of poetry

after (1700)

party-

life.

continued

still

A paraphrase

he published

and not. long

on the Book of

Job and other parts of the scripture. This performance

Dryden, who pursued him with great malignity, lived

long enough to ridicule in a prologue.

The

Dry-

wits easily confederated agianst him, as

den, whose favour they almost

fessed adversary.

He

courted, was his pro-

all

had besides given them reason

for resentment, as, in his preface to Prince

had said of the dramatic writers almost

Arthur, he

alleged afterwards by Collier

all

that

was

but Blackmore's cen-

sure was cold and general, Collier's was personal and

Blackmore taught his reader to dislike what

him to abhor.
In his preface to King Arthur he endeavoured to
gain at least one friend, and propitiated Congreve by

ardent

Collier incited

higher praise of his Mourning Bride than

ed from any other

The same

it

has obtain

critic.

year he published

A satire on

Wit

a pro-

clamation of defiance, which united the poets almost

all

against him, and which brought

and ridicule from every

side.

saw, and evidently despised

mind be without
to greatness

its

praise,

upon him lampoons

This he doubtless fore-

nor should his dignity of

had he not paid the homage

which he denied

to genius,

and degraded

himself by conferring that authority over the national

taste

which he takes from the poets upon men of high

rank and wide

influence.,

but of less wit and not greater

virtue.

Here is again discovered the inhabitant of Cheapside,

whose head cannot keep

his poetry

Q2

unmingled with

BLACKMOHE.

190

To

trade.

he

hinder that intellectual bankruptcy which

affects to fear,

In this

poem he

he

will erect a

justly

but praised his powers

Bank for

Wit.

censured Dryden's impurities,

though

subsequent edition

in a

What

he retained the satire and omitted the praise.

was his reason,

know

not

Dryden was then no longer

way.

10 his

His head

still

teemed with heroic poetry

he published Eliza, in ten books.

world was

heroes

now weary

for I

me

till 1

Jacob says, "

and (1705)

afraid that the

of contending about Blackmore's

have found Eliza either praised

She " dropped," as

from the press."

seen by

am

do not remember that by any author,

-erious or comical,

or blamed.

it is

It is

it

seems, " dead-born

never mentioned, and was never

borrowed

it

for the present occasion.

corrected and revised for another im-

pression ;" but the labour of revision was thrown away.

From
'lie

this

time he turned some of his thoughts to

celebration of living characters; and wrote a

on the Kit-kat Club, and .Idvice

elebrale the

to

poem

the Poets hovj to

Duke of Marlborough ; but on occasion

of

mother year of success, thinking himself qualified to

more
,o a

instruction, he again wrote a

poem

of.hlvicc

fVeavtr of Tapestry. Steele was then publishing

The Tatln-

and looking around him for something

at

which he might laugh, unluckily lighted on Sir Rii

hard's work, and treated

it

with such contempt, that,

as Fenton observes, he put an

end

to the species of

writers that gave advice to Painters.

Not long

after (1712) he published Creation a /iht'loso-

lihical fioem,

which has been by my recommendation

serted io the late collection.

Vx

in-

hoever judges of this by

Any other of Blackmore's performances

will

do

it

injury.

BLACKMORBV
The

praise given

known

by Addison

it

who

which has equalled that

calls it a

and strength

of its reasoning."

infinitely

an author surpasses himself,

I

due

well

to the

" philosophical poem,

surpassed

and

Why

is too-

is

of Leucretius in the beauty of its

versification,

quire.

(Sfiee. 339)

but some notice

to be transcribed;

testimony of Dennis,

191

in the

it

it is

solidity

natural to

in-

have heard from Mr. Draper, an eminent book-

an account received by him from Ambrose Philips,

" that Blackmore, as he proceeded in this poem, laid

seller,

his

manuscript from time

with

whom

he associated

time before a club of wits

to

and that every

man

contri-

buted, as he could, either improvement or correction

so that,"

said Philips,

"there are pei'haps no whei'e

the book thirty lines together that

were

as they

originally written."

The
when

now stand

in

relation

all

of Philips,

reasonable,

was true

suppose,

credible,

all

allowance

for this friendly revision, the author will

ample dividend

of praise

for to

still

is

but

made

retain

an

him must always be

assigned the plan of the work, the distribution of

its parts,

the choice of topics, the train of argument, and,

what

is

yet more, the general predominance of philosophical judg-

ment and

poetical spirit.

Correction seldom effects more

than the suppression of faults

elegance,

may perhaps

a happy

be added

line,

the general character must always remain

constitution

can be very

little

or a single

but of a large
;

work

the original

helped by local remedies

inherent and radical dulness will never be

much

invigo*

rated by extrinsic animation.

This poem,

if

he had written nothing

transmitted him to posterity

among

the

else,

would have

first

favourites of

the English muses ; but to make verses was his transcendent

BLACKMfmE.

192

and as he was not deterred by censure he was

pleasure,

not satiated with praise.

He

however, sometimes into other tracks

deviated,

of literature,

and condescended

When

with plain prose.

to entertain his readers

The Spectator stopped, he con-

sidered the polite world as destitute of entertainment

and, in concert with

Mr. Hughes, who wrote every third

paper, published three times a

week The Lay Monassome

tery, founded on the supposition that

literary

whose characters are described, had retired

to a

men,

house

in

the country to enjoy philosophical leisure, and resolved

to instruct the public, by
tions

communicating their

disquisi-

and amusements.

Whether any

real persons

were

under

names,

not known.

The

concealed

hero of the club

fictitious

is

one Mr. Johnson

is
;

such a constellation

of excellence, that his character shall not be suppressed,

though there

is

no great genius in the design nor

skill in

the delineation.

*'The
that

first

owes

genius,

shall

name

is

Mr. Johnson, a gentleman

and an elevated

to nature excellent faculties

and

to industry

accomplishments.
delicate; his

and application many acquired

His taste

judgment

clear,

is

distinguishing, just, and

and

companied with an imagination

his reason strong, acfull of

spirit, of gre.it

He

compass, and stored with refined ideas.

of the first
is

rank

and, what

is

his peculiar

a critic

delivered from the ostentation, malevolence, and su-

percilious temper, that so often blemish

racter.

of that cha-

and are formed by a judgment free and unbias-

sed by the authority of those

li

men

His remarks result from the nature and reason

of things,

ea<

is

ornament, he

other

in

the

who have

same beaten track

lazily

of thinking,

followed

and arc

arrived only at the reputation of acute grammarians and

BLACKMORE.
commentators

193

men, who have been copying one another

years, without any improvement

many hundred

or,

if

memodern

they have ventured farther, have only applied in a

manner the

chanical

rules of ancient critics to

writings, and with great labour discovered

their

own want

of

son penetrates to the bottom of his

means

his observations are solid

delicate, so his design

is

the reverse to theirs,

trifles.

He

of

out

in finding

search out the merit

and

in discerning his errors

and takes more pleasure

is

abilities in insig-

felicity

less industrious to

an author than sagacious

defects

some-

his character

who have eminent

knowledge, and a great

no

John-

by which

to bring to light

whence

nificant

is

subject,

and natural, as well as

always

thing useful and ornamental

nothing but

As Mr.

judgment and capacity.

commending the

in

beauties than exposing the blemishes of a laudable writing;

like

Horace,

and

justly lay

which

a long work, he can bear some deformities,

in

them on the imperfection

of

human

drama appears

excellent

in public,

and by

worth attracts a general applause, he

envy and spleen

is

nature,

When

incapable of faultless productions.

is

an

its intrinsic

not stung with

nor does he express a savage nature,

fastening upon the celebrated author, dwelling upon

in

his

imaginary defects, and passing over his conspicuous ex-

He

cellencies.
tial footing

treats all writers

and

is

not,

upon the same impar-

like the little critics,

taken up

entirely in finding out only the beauties of the ancient,

nothing but

the errors of the

modern

writers.

and

Never

did any one express more kindness and good nature to

young and unfinished authors; he promotes their

rests,

inte-

protects their reputation, extenuates their faults,

and sets

off their virtues,

and by his candour guards them

from the severity of his judgment.

He

is

not like those

ULACKMOUE.

134
dry critics

who

themselves, but

are morose because they cannot write

is

himself master of a good vein

and though he dues

not often employ

sometimes entertained

friends with

his

in

poetiy

he has

yet

it,

his unpublished

performances."

The

rest of

mortals,

the

Lay Monks seem

and the help

with all his abilities,

yet,

to be but feeble

comparison with the gigantic Johnson

in

could drive the publication but to forty papers,

were afterwards collected

A Sequel to

the title

Some
ded only

of

essays

in

lifeless

his

diction

is

for

little

it

and

His account of

clearness he

his thoughts arc

to its efficient

languid, sluggish,

during nor exact,

his periods neither
ivit

will

shew with

content to think, and

is

recommended by

his

vdi owes

its

cause,

an extraordinary and peculiar temperament

tution of the possessor of

and noblest

Rlackmore's prose
is

neither

his flow neither rapid nor easy,

" As

which can be commen-

prose,

the promotion of religion.

smooth nor strong.

tle

in

the Spectators.

not the prose of a poet

how

which

volume, and called

as they are written for the highest

purpose,

and

who

years afterwards (1716 and 1717) he published

two volumes

is

into a

of the fraternity,

it,

in

which

is

how

lit-

language.

production to
in

the consti-

found a concur-

rence of regular and exalted ferments, and an affluence of

animal
purity

and
tions,

refined and rectified to a great degree of

spirits,
;

whence, being endowed with vivacity, brightness,

celerity,

as well in their reflections as direct mo-

they become proper instruments for the sprighth

operations of the mind

can with great

contemplate an

facility

by which means the imagination

range the wide

infinite variety of objects,

field

of nature,

and, by observ-

ing the similitude and disagreement of their several quAli

BLACKMORE.
and abstract, and then

single out

ties,

195

which will best serve

those ideas

beautiful allusions,

is full

and

unite,

Hence

surprising metaphors, and admirable

sentiments, are always ready at hand

fancy

suit

purpose.

its

and while the

from innumerable objects

of images, collected

and their different qualities relations, and habitudes,

can at pleasure dress a

becoming garb

common

it

notion in a strange but

by which, as before observed, the same

thought will appear a new one, to the great delight and

wonder

of the hearer.

this particular

the person that enjoys

it,

and

is

call genius results

in the first

from

formation of

nature's gift but diversi-

by various specific characters ^nd limitations, as

fied

active fire
of

What we

happy complexion

is

its

blended and allayed by different proportions

phlegm, or reduced and regulated by the contrast of op-

posite ferments.

Therefore, as there happens

position of a facetious genius a greater or less,

an

inferior,

in

the com-

though

degree of judgment and prudence, one

still

man

of

wit will be varied and distinguished from another."

In these essays he took

wits

for

little

care to propitiate the

he scorns to avert their malice at the expence

of virtue or of truth.

" Several,

in their books,

have many sarcastical and

spiteful sti-okes at religion in general

while others

make

themselves pleasant with the principles of the Christian.

Of

the last kind, this age has seen a most audacious ex-

ample

in

the book entitled

writing been

published in a

Had this
Tale of a Tub.
Pagan or Popish nation, who

are justly impatient of all indignity offered to the established religion of their country, no doubt but the author

would have received the punishment he deserved.

the fate of this impious buffoon

is

very different

But

for in

Protestant kingdom, zealous of their oivil and religious

BLACKMORE.

196

immunities, he has not only escaped affronts and the ef

fects of public resentment, but has been caressed

and pa-

tronized by persons of great figure and of all denomintions.

who

Violent party-men,

agreed

in their

differed in

things

all

besides,

turn to show particular respect and friend-

ship to this insolent deriderof the worship of his country,

at last the

till

reputed writer

not only gone off with im-

is

punity, but triumphs in his dignity and preferment.

know

not

that any inquiry or search

this writing, or that any

was ever made

reward was ever offered

do

after-

for the

discovery of the author, or that the infamous book was ever

condemned

to be

burnt

in

public: whether this proceeds

from the excessive esteem and love that

men

in

power,

during the late reign, had for wk, or their defect of zeal

and concern

for the Christian religion, will be

who

best by those

determined

are best acquainted with their charac-

ter."

In another place he speak* with becoming abhorrence

who has burlesqued a Psalm. This

who published a reward

of a godless author-,

author was supposed to be Pope,

for

any one that would produce the coiner

but never denied

it

of the accusation,

and was afterwards the perpetual

and incessant enemy of Rlackmore.

One

of his essays

much

him

so

the

same thoughts

Monastery
to

to his

then

upon thq spleen, which

is

own
in
in

satisfaction, that

the

same words

the Essay

cause

I
I

have found already twice,

think

it

will

in

the

Lay

the preface

One

passage,

here exhibit, be-

better imagined, and better expressed,

than could be expected from the

prose.

treated by

first in

and then

a Medical Treatise on the Spleen.

which

is

he has published

common

tenor of h

BLACKMORE.
"
and

As the several
produce an

folly

197

combinations of splenetic madness

variety of irregular under-

infinite

Standing, so the amicable accomodation and alliance be-

tween several virtues and vices produce an equal diversity

in the dispositions

comes

and manners

mankind; whence

of

many monstrous and absurd

to pass, that as

ductions are found in the moral as

world.

How

surprising

in

to observe,

is it

the

it

pro-

intellectual

among

the least

capable men, some whose minds are attracted by heaven

and earth with a seeming equal force

of humility; others

who are

yet self-denying and devout

of piety,

Nor are

passions!

less frequent

some who are proud

some who

the world with sordid avarice

a great degree

censorious and uncharitable,

contempt of

with ill-nature and ungoverned

instances of this inconsistent mixture

among bad men, where we

lovers of their country

and

men

often,

flagitious heroes,

of honour,

and

sooner die than change their religion

with admi-

and unjust, impious

ration, see persons at once generous

sharpers, immoral

join

and others who preserve

good-natured

libertines

and though

who

will

it is

true

that repugiant coalitions of so high a degree are found but

in

a part of mankind, yet none of the whole mass, either

good or bad, are entirely exempted from some absurd

mixture."

He

about this time (Aug. 22, 1716) became one of the

elects of the

(Oct.

I,)

college of Physicians

chosen censor.

whatever was the reason, at

Having succeeded

his

and was soon after

He seems

to

have arrived

late,

medical honours.

so well in his book on Creation,

which he established the great principle

of all religion,

by

he

thought his undertaking imperfect, unless he likewise enforced the truth of revelation

ded another poem, on

and

redeiiijitian*

for that

He had

ten, before his Creation, three books on the

Vol.11.

purpose ad-

likewise writ-

Nature of Man.

ULACKMORL.

1V8

The

lovers of musical devotion have always

wished

for

a more happy metrical version than they have yet obtain-

ed

This wish the piety

book of Psalms.

of the

more

him

led

to gratify

Version of the Psalms of David,

in

Churches

shops,

of

Black-

and he produced (1721)^ new

ft ted

Tunis used

to the

which, being recommended by the archbi-

and many bishops, obtained a licence

for

its

ad-

it

yet

mission into public worship; but no admission has

obtained, nor has

Tate have
added

got

any right to come where Brady and

it

Blackmore's name must be

possession.

many

to those of

others who, by the same attempt,

have obtained only the praise

He was

was another-monarch

whom

he considered as

Jiliza

ashamed

silence

in

kindness; Alfred took his place

;ind

darkness

weary

to favour, and malice

four epic poems, the

as

and he dignified Alfred (1723)

a hero introduced by Blackmore was not likely

to find either respect or

rity

But the opinion of the natiun was now

with twelve books.

by

There

he did not fetch his

worthy of the epic muse

settled

well.

of this island (for

from foreign countries)

heroes

meaning

of

not yet deterred from heroic poetry.

first

enraged the

known enough

was

benevolence

of insulting.

Of

his

had such reputation and popula-

critics

the

to be ridiculed

the

was

second

two

last

at

least

had neither

friends nor enemies.

Contempt

is

a kind of gangrene, which,

part of a character, corrupts

all

Blarkmore, being despised as a poet, was

ed as a physician
great, forsook

him

his practice,
in

if it

seizes one

the rest by degrees.

in

time neglect-

which was once invidiously

the latter part of his

life

but being

by nature, or by principle, averse from idleness, he

ployed his unwelcome leisure

and teaching others

cure no longer.

in

to cure those

know

not

em-

writing books on physic,

whom

whether

he could himself

can enumerate

all

BLACKMORE.
the treatises by
of healing

which he has endeavoured

for there

199
to diffuse the art

scarcely any distemper, of dreadful

is

name, which he has not taught the reader how

He

to

oppose.

has written on the small-pox, with a vehement invec-

tive against inoculation

on consumptions, the spleen, the

gout, the rheumatism,

the

the dropsy,

the king's-evil,

jaundice, the stone, the diabetes, and the plague.

Of

those books,

pected that

have been

if I

had read them,

it

could not be ex-

should be able to give a critical account.

told that there is

something

in

them

and discontent, discovered by a perpetual attempt

grade physic from
attainable without

By
I

its

sublimity,

much

the transient glances

and

to de-

to represent it as

previous or concomitant learning.

which

have thrown upon them,

have observed an affected contempt

of the ancients,

and a supercilious derision of transmitted knowledge.

this indecent

of vexation

Of

arrogance the following quotation from his

preface to the treatise on the Small-pox will afford a spe-

cimen

in

true, that,

know
he

which, when the reader

finds,

what

when he was censuring Hippocrates, he

fear

is

did not

the difference between aphorism and afiofihthegm,

will not

pay much regard

to his

determinations con-

cerning ancient learning.

"

As

for

his

book of Aphorisms,

Bacon's of the same

lection of trite

and

title,

trifling

it

is

like

my

lord

a book of jests, or a grave colobservations

of

which though

many are true and certain, yet they signify nothing, and
may afford diversion, but no instruction most of them
being much inferior to the sayings of the wise men of
Greece, which yet are so low and mean, that we are
;

entertained every day with more valuable sentiments at the

table conversation of ingenious
I

am

and learned men."

unwilling, however, to leave

him

in total disgrace.

BLACKMORE.

200

and

will therefore quote

from another preface a passage

less reprehensible.

"Some gentlemen have

been disengenuous and unjust to

mc, by wresting and forcing

to

another book, as

if I

though they knew

ing,

and esteemed
and that

men

all

my

meaning,

declared that

as to physic,

but

still insist,

all

learn-

greatly honoured

and erudition

of superior literature

if

mankind

and that

expressly affirmed that learning must be

joined with native genius to

;

the preface

only undervalued false or superficial learning,

that signifies nothing for the service of

rank

in

condemned and exposed

make

a physician of the first

those talents are separated,

man

that a

of native sagacity

asserted, and do

and diligence will

prove a more able and useful practiserthan a heavy notional

scholar,

encumbered with a heap

He was
likewise a

not

<

nly a poet

work

of confused ideas."

and a physician, but produced

of a different kind,

History of the Conspiracy against

memory

rious

bat suppose

it

in the

year

at least

69 5.

A true

This

have never seen,

books against the Arians

Irian Ilvf. others

works

of his
I

is

Just Prejudices against the

Xatural Theology, or Moral Duties consi;

with some observations on the

and A'ecesiify of a su/irrnatural Revelation.

This was the last book that

hint

en-

and wrote two

and Modern Arians unmasked. Another

afiart from Positive

t%

He

compiled with integrity.

i;aged likewise in theological controversy,

and impartial

King William^ of glo-

lie

lie left behind

published.

The accomfilisheJ Praichcr, or un Essay

ti/ion

Divine

bich was printed after his death by Mr.

While,

ol*

Nayland

ath-bed^

ai "l

in

K.ssex, the minister

who

attended

testified the fervent piety of his last

lie died en the eighth of October,

1.

Blackmore, by the unremitted enmity of the wits,

he pr

nore

b)

his virtue than

his

whom

inlncss, baa

BLACKMORE.

201

been exposed to worse treatment than be deserved. His

name was

so long used to point every

writers, that

but

became

it

epigram upon dull

at last a bye-word of contempt

deserves observation, that malignity takes hold only

it

of his writings,

and that

passed without reproach,

his life

even when his boldness of reprehension naturally turned

upon him many eyes desirous

tongues would have

who

made

espy faults, which

to

many

But those

haste to publish.

could not blame could at least forbear to praise, and

therefore of his private

life

and domestic character there

are no memorials.

As an

may

author he

The

namity.

justly claim the honours of

incessant attacks of his enemies,

mag-

whether

serious or merry, are never discovered to have disturbed

have lessened his confidence

his quiet or

to

they neither

awed him

to

in

himself:

silence nor to caution

neither provoked him to petulence nor depressed

complaint.

While the

endeavouring

distributers of literary

they

him

to

fame were

and degrade him, he either

to depreciate

despised or defied them, wrote on as he had written before,

and never turned aside

them by

to quiet

them by

He depended

knew

His literature was,

of antiquity I suspect

modern compilers

ciples,

knowledge,

critical

and he

considered as

With

repress

with great security on his own powers,

and perhaps was for that reason

books.

civility or

confutation.

left
little

diligent in perusing

1,-ss

What he
have gathered from

think, but small.

him

to

but, though he could not boast of

his

mind was

much

stored with general prin-

minute researches

to those

whom

he

minds.

this disposition

he wrote most

of his

poems.

Ha-

ving formed a magnificent design, he was careless of par<,;

nlar and subordinate elegances; he studied no meet es

KMORE
<f versification,

Ik waited

caught his

thoughts

first

were presented
his

nor does

own performances,

or

no

for

fancy

felicities of

but

the first words in which they

in

it

appear that he saw beyond

had ever elevated

his views to

that ideal perfection which every genius born to excel

condemned always

to pursue,

and never overtake.

he acquiesced

suggestions of his imagination

first

thought

them good, and did not seek

is

In the

he

His

for better.

works may be read a long time without the occurrence of

a single line that stands prominent from the rest.

The poem

on Creation has, however, the appearance of

more circumspection

it

wants neither harmony of num-

accuracy of thought, nor elegance of diction

bers,

imagined of so long a work,

with such

it

has

what cannot be

cither been written with great care, or,

felicity as

made

rare less necessary.

Its
tion.

two constituent parts are

To

reason in verse

is

Blackmore not only reasons

sons poetically,

and

ratiocination

allowed to be
in verse,

Pope might have condescended

when he needed

it

so

much

to

in his

In his descriptions both of

life

but

but very often rea-

finds the art of uniting

strength, and ease with closeness.

and descripdifficult

This

ornament with

is

a skill

which

have learned from him,

Moral Essays.

and nature, the poet and

the philosopher happily co-operate

truth

is

recommen-

ded by elegance, and elegance sustained by truth.

In the structure

and order

of the

poem, not only the

greater parts arc properly consecutive, but the didactic and

illustrative

paragraphs are so happily mingled, that labour

lieved by pleasure, and the attention

a Ions succession of varied

tion,

ocedence

to

is

led on through

the original posi-

the fundamental principle of wisdom and of virtue.

BLACKMORE.
As
it

is

the heroic poems of Blackmore are

203

now

read,

little

thought proper to insert, as a specimen from Prince

Arthur, the song of Mofias mentioned by Molineaux.

which Arthur with most pleasure heard
Mopas sung the bardj
Who to his harp in lofty verse began,
And through the secret maze of nature ran.

But

Were

that

noble strains, by

He the

Great Spirit sung, that

all

things

fill'd,

That the tumultuous waves of chaos still'd

Whose nod dispos'd the jarring seeds to peace,
And made the wars of hostile atoms cease.
;

All beings,

we

in fruitful

nature find,

Proceed from the Great Eternal Mind ;

Streams of his unexhausted spring of power,
And, cherish'd with his influence, endure.
He spread the pure cerulean fields on high,
And arch'd the chambers of the vaulted sky,

Which he,

to suit their glory with their height,

Adorn'd with globes, that reel, as drunk with light,

His hand directed all the taneful spheres,
He turn'd their orbs and polish'd all the stars.
He fill'd the sun's vast lamp with golden light,
And bid the silver moon adorn the night.
He spread the airy ocean without shores,

Where

birds are wafted with their feather'd oars

Then sung the bard how the light vapours rise

From the warm earth, and cloud the smiling skies

He sung how some,

Fall scatter'd down

chill'd in their airy flight,

in pearly dew by night

some, rais'd higher, sit in secret streams
On the reflected points of bounding beams,
Till, chill'd with cold, they shade th' ethereal plain
Then on the thirsty earth descend in rain ;
How some, whose parts a slight contexture show
Sink, hovering through the air, in fleecy snow ;
How part is spun in silken threads, and clings
Entangled in the grass in glewy strings ;
How others stamp to stones, with rushing sound
Fall from their chrystal quarries to the ground
How some are laid in trains, that kindled fly,
In harmless fires by night, about the sky

How

BLACKMORE.

204

How some

in

winds blow with impetuous force.

carry ruin where they bend their course,

And

While some conspire

To

to

fan the air, and play

form a gentle breeze,

among the

trees

How

some, enraged, grow turbulent an loud,

Pent in the bowels of a frowning cloud,
That cracks, as if the axis of the world
Was broke, and heaven's bright towers were downwards
I

hurl'd.

He sung how
Did

in

earth's

wide

ball, at

Jove's

the midst on airy culumns stand

command,

And how the soul of plants, in prison held,

And bound with sluggish fetters, lies conceal'd,
Till, with the Spring's warm beams, almost releas'd
From the dull weight with which it lay opprest,
vigour spreads, and makes the teeming earth
Heave up, and labour with the sprouting birth
The active spirit freedom seeks in vain,
It only works and twists a stronger chain
Urging its prison's sides to break away,
It makes that wider where 'tis forced to stay
Its

Till,

having form'd

its

living house,

it

rears

head, and in a tender plant appears.

Hence springs the oak, the beauiy of the grove,
Its

Whose

Stately trunk fierce

storms can scarcely move.

Hence grows the cedar, hence the swelling vine

Docs round the elm its purple clusters twine.
Hence painted flowers the smiling gardens bless,
Both with their fragrant scent and gaudy dress.
Hence the white lily in full beauty grows,
Hence the blue violet, and blushing rose.

He sung how sun-beams brood upon the earth,

And in the glebe hatch such a numerous birth
Which way the genial warmth in Summer storms
;

bed of worms ;
power,
Falls from the clouds an animated shower.
He sung the embryo's growth within the womb,
And how the parts their shapes assume
\\ ith what rare art the wondrous structure's wrought
From one crude mass to such perfection brought ;
That no part useless, none misplac'd we see,

Turns putrid vapours

How

to a

rain transform'd by this prolific

X'-' e

are

he.

FENTON.

X HE

brevity with which I

ELIJAH

FENTON

is

am

to write the account of

not the effect of indifference or

negligence. I have sought intelligence

in his native country,

He was

born near Newcastle

cient family,*

among

but have not obtained

his relations
it.

in Staffordshire, of

an an-

whose estate was very considerable

but

* He was born at Shelton, near Newcastle, May 20, 1683 and

was the youngest of eleven children of John Fenton, an attor
ney at law, and one of the coroners of the county of Stafford.
His father died in 1694
and his grave, in the church -yard of
Stoke upon Trent, is distinguished by the following elegant
Latin inscription from the pen of his son -^
;

H.

S.

E.

Johannes Fenton
de Shelton
antiqua stirpe generosus
juxta reliquias conjugis

Catharinje
forma, moribus, pietate,
optimo viro dignissimx
:

Qui
intemerata in ecclesiam fide,
et virtutibus intaminitatis enituit

necnon ingenii lepore

bonis artibus expoliti,

FENTON.

:o6

was the youngest

lie

was

of eleven children,

and being there-

necessarily destined to some lucrative

fore

sent

first

but, with

to school,

many

and afterwards

to

employment
Cambridge,*

other wise and virtuous men,

who

at that

time of discord and debate consulted conscience, whether

well or

ill

informed, more than interest, he doubted the

and refusing

legality of the government,

for public

to qualify himself

employment by the oaths required,

university without a degree; but

left

the

never heard that the

enthusiasm of opposition impelled him

to separation

from

the church.

By this perverseness of integrity he was driven out a

commoner of nature, excluded from the regular modes of
profit

and prosperity, and reduced

uncertain and fortuitous; but

he kept

his

name

and dishonourable

many

to

pick up a livelihood

must be remembered that

and never suffered himself

unsullied,

be reduced, like too

it

of

the same

sect, to

mean

Whoever mentioned

shifts.

to

arts

Fenton,

mentioned him with honour.

The

life

that passes in penury

obscurity.
to year,

It

is

must necessarily pass

impossible to trace Fenton

in

from year

or to discover what means he used for his sup-

ac animo erga omnes benevolo,

sibi suisque jucundus vtxit.
Decern annos uxori dilectex superstes
magnum sui desiderium bonis

omnibus

Anno

C salutis

J
)

reliquit,

liumana: 1694,
e.

.-clans sua: 56.

See Gent. Mag. 1791, Vol. LXI.

p. 703.

N.

college, and took a bachelor's de1704 but it appears by the list of Cambridge graduN.
ates that he removed in 1726 to Trinity Hall.
*

cree

He was entered of leMl

in

FENTON.

He was

port.

207

awhile secretary to Charles earl of Or-

rery in Flanders,

and tutor

to his

young

son,

who

after-

wards mentioned him with great esteem and tenderness.

He was

at one time assistant in the school of

wicke

Surrey

in

and at another kept a school

Mr. Bon-

for himself

at Sevenoaks in Kent, which he brought into reputation

but was persuaded to leave

it

(1710) by Mr. St. John, with

promises of a more honourable employment.

His opinions, as he was a nonjuror, seem not to have

been remarkably

He

rigid.

affection the praises of

wrote with great zeal and

queen Anne, and very willingly

and liberally extolled the duke

was (1707)

He

expressed

his family
ford,

ness

of

Marlborough, when he

at the height of his glory.

still

more

attention to

Marlborough and

by an elegiac pastoral on the marquis of Bland-

which could be prompted only by respect or kindfor neither the duke nor duchess desired the praise,

or liked the cost, of patronage.

The

elegance of his poetry entitled him to the company

of the wits of his time, and the amiableness of his

made him

loved wherever he was known.

ship to Southern and

He

Pope there are

Of

lasting

manners

his friend-

monuments.

published in 1707 a collection of poems.

By Pope he was once placed

have been
advanced

own want

in

to

a station that might

Craggs, when he was

of great advantage.

be secretary of state (about 1720) feeling his

of literature, desired

instructor, by

of his education.

Craggs found

Pope

to

procure him an

whose help he might supply the

deficiencies

Pope recommended Fenton,

all that

in

whom

There was now a

Fenton had merit and

he was seeking.

prospect of ease and plenty, for

Craggs had generosity

but the small-pox suddenly put

an end to the pleasing expectation,

FENTON.

208

When Pope,

after the great success of his Itiad, under-

took the Odyssey, being, as

he determined

to

seems, weary of translating,

it

engage auxiliaries.

Twelve

books he

took to himself and twelve he distributed between

and Fenton; the books allotted toFenton were the

fourth, the nineteenth

and the twentieth.

committed

it

their parts

to
is

neither did Pope claim

How

Broome.

well

known

the

observable,

which he had before

that he did not take the eleventh,

translated into blank verse

It is

Broome

first,

but

it,

the too associates performed

to the

readers of poetry,

who

have never been able to distinguish their books from those

of

Pope.
In 1723

was performed

.vhich Southern, at

his

tragedy of Mariamne

whose house

it

was

written,

is

to

said to

have contributed such hints as his theatrical experience

supplied.

When

it

was shewn

to

Cibber,

it

was rejected

by him, with the additional insolence of advising Fenton

to

engage himself

in

some employment

of honest labour,

by

which he might obtain that support which he could never

hope from his poetry.

The

play was acted at the other

theatre; and the brutal petulance of Cibber was confuted,

though, perhaps, not shamed, by general applause. Fenton *s

profits are said

to

have amounted

to

near a thousand

pounds, with which he discharged a debt contracted by his

attendance at court.

Fenton seems
versification.

to

have had some peculiar system

Mariamne

is

written in lines of ten

with few of those redundant terminations which the

not only admits but requires, as
to real dialogue.
'.t

The

he so constructed

it,

is

drama

more nearly approaching

tenor of his verse

cannot be thought casual

of

s\ llables,

is so

uniform that

and yet upon what principlt

difficult to discover.

t'ENTON.

The mention
of

my mind

of his play brings to

Fenton was one day

occurrence.

trifling

209

in the

a very

company

Broome, his associate, and Ford, a clergyman, at that

time too well known, whose

convivial

merriment

to

might have enabled him

the wise.

abilities, instead of furnishing

voluptuous

the

to excel

They determined

among

all to see

and

The Merry Wives

of Windsor, which was acted that night

and Fenton, as

a dramatic poet, took them to the stage-door

door keeper, inquiring

who

dissolute,

the virtuous and

where the

they were, was told that they

were three very necessary men, Ford, Broome, and Fen-

The name

ton.

the play which Pope restored to

in

Brook

was then Broome.

was perhaps

It

after this play that

he undertook to

revise the punctuation of Milton's poems, which, as the

author neither wrote the original copy nor corrected the

press,

was supposed capable

of

amendment.

To

this edi-

tion

he prefixed a short and elegant account of Milton's

life,

written at once with tenderness and integrity.

He

published likewise (1729) a very splendid edition of

Waller, with notes, often useful, often entertaining, but

much extended by long quotations from Clarendon.

Illustrations drawn from a book so easily consulted should
be made by reference rather than transcription.
too

The

latter part of his life

relict of Sir

was calm and

William Trumbull

recommendation,

to

pleasant.

The

invited him, by Pope's

educate her son;

whom he

first in-

structed at home, and then attended to Cambridge.

The

lady afterwards detained him with her as the auditor of

her accompts.

He

often

wandered

to

London, and amused

himself with the conversation of his friends

Vol. Hi

FENTON.

210

He

died

1730, at Easthampstead

in

seat of lady
his friend,

honoured him with an epitaph

borrowed the two

Fenton was

which he did

first lines

and bulky, inclined

tall

not lessen by

down

much

in

corpulence,

to

exercise; for he was

late,

and when he had

to his books or papers.

once waited on him

which he

of

from Crashaw.

very sluggish and sedentary, rose

risen, sat

Berkshire, the

in

Trumbull; and Pope, who had been always

woman

that

a lodging told him, as she said, that

he would "lie a-bed, and be fed with a spoon." This,

however, was not the worst that might have been prognosticated
:

for

Pope

says, in his letters, that

"he died

of

ndolence ;" but his immediate distemper was the gout.

Of
form
as a

his morals and his conversation the account

;

is

man

in

the highest degree amiable and

Such was the character given him

his pupil, such

the suffrages of

is

excellent.

by the earl of Orrery,

the testimony of Pope ;* and such were

all

who

By a former writer

could boast of his acquaintance.

of his

a story

life

He

ought not to be forgotten.

is

told

which

used, in the latter part of

his time, to pay his relations in the country a yearly

At an entertaiment made

for

the

ried unfortunately,

that distress

was absent

who had mar-

and found, upon inquiry,

had made her thought unworthy

of invitation.

she was at no great distance, he refused to

table

till

visit.

family by his elder

brother, he observed, that one of his sisters,

As

uni-

he was never named but with praise and fondness,

sit

at the

she was called, and when she had taken her

place was careful to show her particular attention.

His collection
ode to the Sun

of
is

poems

is

now

written upon a

Spence

to be considered.

common

The

plan, without

FEN TON.
uncommon sentiments

No poem

but

211

greatest fault

its

is its

should be long of which the purpose

is

length.

only to

strike the fancy, without enlightening the understanding

by precept, ratiocination, or narrative.

pleases and

Of. Florelio

pastoral,

it is

sufficient to say, that

an occasional

it is

which implies something neither natural nor ar-

next ode

is

As

irregular, and therefore defective.

the sentiments are pious, they cannot easily be

what ean be added

have been employed

Of

first

neither comic nor serious.

tificial,

The

blaze

then tires the sight.

new

for

which successive ages

to topics on
?

the Parafihrase on Isaiah nothing very favourable

Sublime and solemn prose gains

can be said.

change

to

blank verse

his original,

little

by a

and the paraphrast has deserted

by admitting images not Asiatic, at least not

Judaical

Returning' peace,

Dove eyed, and rob'd

Of

his petty

is

unlucky

tale with
lates

white

poems some are very

thing to be praised, either

He

in

in his

in

without any

trifling,

the thought or expression.

competitions

Congreve, and does not

He

tells

tell it so

the same idle

well.

from Ovid the same epistle as Pope;

He transam

but I

afraid not with equal happiness.

To examine
will

find

rhyme

his

performances one by one would be

His translation from

tedious.

Homer

The.piece addressed

to

Lambarde

able specimen of epistolary poetry

lord

into blank verse

few readers, while another can be had

Gower was pronounced by Pope

and

in

no disagree-

his ode to the

the next ode in the

English language to Dryden's Cecilia.

justly styled an excellent versifier

is

Fenton

and a good

may be

poet,

FEN TON

212

WHATEVER
Pope

in

letter,

have said of Fenton

confirmed by

is

by which he communicated to Broome an

account of his death.

TO

The Revd Mr. BROOME.

At Pi'luam, near Harlestonk

Nor
Eeccles

[By

SlR,

INTENDED

to write to

you on

have informed myself and you

All

hear

in iile, ;;d
I

that he

is,

of y'

for 5 or 6

apprehended, the Gout

rather a complication

y**

came

months.

it.

tho' so early
It

was

Stomach, but

in his

first of

but stay'd

circumstances of

a Gradual Decay,

felt

was declining

melancholy sub-

this

death of Mr. Fenton, before

ject, the

to

Suffolke

Bag.]

not, as

believe

gross humours, as he

was

naturally corpulent, not discharging themselves, as he used

no sort of
of his

No man better bore y e

I am told) or
with

exercise.

Dissolution (as

The

tation yielded 'up his Being.

than

in his last

(no doubt)

in

he lived, with
to

moments

you

instance

himself honest, true,

his own.

that secret, yet sufficient,

much

thought

an

a conscious satisfaction

in feeling

left

behind

for this reason, he

or

own merit

He had

more than

to

any Papers

be but few

of

the

that

Love

of

at least I

Ease,

way
I

and

faucy

hear

of

hiin,

if

So he dyed, as
Contentment.

dare say they can

never wrote out of Vanity,

Applause

where he did

sort

w ch

to

acting right,

and unpretending

As

osten-

less

great modesty

him, and y e great Contempt he had

sorts of Vanity and Parade, never appeared more

know was natural

for all

approaches

his

we

of

men.

know

utmost to conceal

his

join to this his natural

we must expect

littla

of

none except some few rem

tlii-

FENTON.

213

made him leave ao

on Waller (w cl his cautious integrity

>

order to be given to Mr. Tonson) and perhaps, tho'

many years

He

Oppian.

a Translation of y e

it,

had began a tragedy

small progress

As

saw

since I

in

to his other

he dyed poor, but honest,

Affairs,

Mr. Trumbull and my Lady,

&

in

except of a few p ds to
token of respect, Grate-

mutual Esteem.

with pleasure take upon

I shall

me

ters,

shew
of

ia

Poetry,

a few words

them

leave

own Fine

as for Flourish,

younger and more

for writing sake,

my

condole with you from

worthy a man, and a Friend

I

must

tell

mistook you, or

knew you

for

am

Oratory,

wd

Wri-

rather

renounce.

Now

light to

not.

he

office,

is

gone,

and set

some who either

doubt not he has done

me.

Adieu: Let us love

ple.

5c

lively

and

you he has done you many a good

in y e fairest

same

ami-

heart, on the loss of so

to us both.

your character

the

this

Parts, y n Report the valuable ones

So the Elegy

any other man.

I

to

such as love writing

their

draw

There truth may

losophical character, in his Epitaph.

8c

to

deserving, unpretending Christian and Phi-

able, quiet,

be spoken

made

but

of Dion,

'tis

Book of

it.

leaving no Debts, or Legacies

fulness,

first

his

memory, and

profit

by his exam-

very sincerely

Dr SIR
Your

affectionate

& real Servant

A POPE,
.

Aug. 29th, 1720.

GAY.

JOHN GAY,
been long

descended from an old family that had

manor

possession of the

in

Devonshire, was born

1688,

in

Goldworthy*

of

in

near Barnstaple,

at or

where he was educated by Mr. Luck, who taught the

school of that town with good reputation,

before he retired from

and English verses.

to

form a taste

Under such a master he was

for poetry.

little

likely

Being born without prospect of

hereditary riches, he was sent to London

nnd placed apprentice with a

How

and, a

published a volume of Latin

it,

silk

in his youth,

mercer.

long he continued behind the counter, or with

what degree

of softness

accommodated the
not

and dexterity he received and

ladies, as

known.

he probably took no delight

The

report

that he

in

was soon

telling

it,

weary

of either the restraint or servility of his occupation,

is

and easily persuaded

The

master

to

discharge him.

duchess of Monmouth, remarkable

perseverance
in

his

is,

in

1712 took Gay

for

inflexible

her demand to be treated as a princess,

into

her service as secretary

by quitting

a shop for such service he might gain leisure, but he certainly

advanced

his leisure

little in

the boast of

ii.

dependence.

year a poem on Kural

S'/iorts,

and inscribed

Culdieorthy does not appear in the J'iUarr.

worthy

is

Of

he made so good use, that he published next

probably meant

C.

Dr.

it

J.

to

Mr,

GAY.

215

Pope was

Pope, who was then rising fast into reputation.

when he became acquainted

pleased with the honour; and,

with Gay, found such attractions

inmost confidence

them which

in his

manners and con-

have received him

versation, that he seems to

into his

and a friendship was formed between

lasted to their separation by death, without

any known abatement on either part.

Gay was

ral favourite of the whole association of wits

the gene-

but they

regarded him as a play-fellow rather than a partner, and

him with more fondness than respect.

Next year he published the Shepherd's Week,

treated

English pastorals,
real

life,

in

such as

it

appears among the rustics

England remote from London.

Steele, in

The Guardian, had praised Ambrose

Pope,

who had

in

parts of

some papers

of

Philips, as the pas-

toral writer that yielded only to Theocritus,

Spencer.

six

which the images are drawn from

Virgil

and

also published pastorals,

not

pleased to be overlooked, drew up a comparison of his

own compositions with

those of Philips, in

vertly gave himself the preference, while

Not content with

disown

it.

incited

Gay

to write

this,

he

is

which he cohe seemed

to

supposed to have

The She/iherd's Week,

to

show, that

if it

be necessaiy to copy nature with minuteness, rural

life

must be exhibited such as grossness and ignorance

it.
So far the plan was reasonable ; but the

have made

pastorals are introduced by a

Proeme, written with such

imitation as they could obtain of obsolete language,

by consequence

in

a style that

was never spoken nor

and
writ-

ten in any age or in any place.

But the

effect of reality

and truth became conspicuous,

even when the intention was to show them grovelling and

degraded.

These pastorals became popular, and were

read with delight, as just representations of rural

manners

BAT.

.16

and occupations, by those

who had no

interest in the ri-

valry of the poets, nor knowledge of the critical dispute.

in 3

In

he brought a comedy called The Wife of Bath

upon the stage, but

received no applause

it

however, and seventeen years

it,

and, as he thought, adapted

he offered

again to the town

it

it

more

he printed

having altered

after,

it,

to the public taste,

but though he was flushed

with the success of the Beggar's Opera, had the mortification to see

it

again rejected.

In the last year of queen Anne's

Gay was made

life,

secretary to the earl of Clarendon,

ambassador

to the

court of Hanover. This was a station that naturally gave

him hopes

from every party

of kindness

but the queen's

death put an end to her favours, and he had dedicated his

Week

Sh-/ihrra"s

Bolingbroke, which Swift considered

to

as the crime that obstructed all kindness from the house

of

Hanover.

He

did not, however, omit to improve the right which

his office

On

had given him

to the notice of

and obtained

so

much

favour, that both the prince and

princess went to see his Jt'hat d' ye call

tragedy,

grave
not

the royal family.

the arrival of the princess of Wales, he wrote a poem,

in

it,

a kind of

mock-

which the images were comic, and the action

so that, as

Pope

hear what was

relates,

said,

Mr. Cromwell, who could

was at a

loss

how

to reconcile

the laughter of the audience with the solemnity of the

scene.

Of
but

this

it

performance the value certainly

was one

novelty, and

lucky

of the

was

so

much favoured

envy appeared against

Griffin, a player, in

man

trifles that

it

in

is

but

little ;

give pleasure by

by the audience, th^t

the form of criticism

conjunction with

and

Mr. Theobald, a

afterwards more remarkable, produced a pamphlet

GAY.
The Key

called

Gay, "

to the

me

calls

What

217

d' ye call

"which," says

it ;

a blockhead, and Mr. Pope a knave."

Not long

But fortune has always been inconstant.

afterwards (1717) he endeavoured to entertain the town

with Three Hours after Marriage
there

is sufficient

a comedy written, as

reason for believing, by the joint assis-

One
Woodward

tance of Pope and Arbuthnot.

purpose

bring into contempt Dr.

the

not really or justly contemptible.

such outrages deserve

was

directly

tion of a

It

of

was

it

fossilist,

had the

the scene in which

to

man

which

fate

Woodward

and apparently ridiculed, by the introduc-

mummy

and a

crocodile, disgusted the audience,

and the performance was driven

the stage with gene-

off

ral condemnation.

Gay

is

represented as a

man

easily incited to hope,

and

deeply depressed when his hopes were disappointed. This

is

not the character of a hero

but

it

something more generally welcome, a

naturally imply

may

and

soft

civil

compa-

Whoever is apt to hope good from others is diligent

to please them; but he that believes his powers strong
enough to force their own way, commonly tries only to
nion.

please himself.

He had

been simple enough to imagine that those

laughed at the What a" ye

of

its

tion.

author

call it

would

and, finding nothing done, sunk into dejec-

His friends endeavoured

to divert him.

The

Burlington sent him (1716) into Devonshire;

after,

who

raise the fortune

Mr Pulteney took him to

Aix

and

in

earl of

the year

the following

year lord Harcourt invited him to his seat, where, during

his visit, the

as

is

two rural lovers were

killed with lightening,

particularly told in Pope's Letters.

Being now generally known, he published (1720) his

Poems by

subscription, with such success, that he raised a

GAY.

216

thousand pounds

what use might be

and called his friends

best

made

of

to a consultation

Lewis, the steward of

it.

lord

Oxford, advised him

live

upon the interest; Arbuthnot bade him

to intrust

to the funds,

it

providence, and live upon the principal

to intrust

and
it

to

Pope directed

him, and was seconded by Swift, to purchase an annuity.

Gay
Craggs

in

that disastrous year* had a present from young

of

some South-sea

persuaded him
nity

and once supposed him-

stock,

be master of twenty thousand pounds.

self to

to sell his share

but he

and splendour, and could not bear

fortune.

He was

then importuned

make you

as

" which," says

the calamity so low that his

This counsel was rejected

der of mutton every day."

to

life,

own

much

sure of a clean shirt and a shoul

the profit and principal were

By

of dig-

to obstruct his

to sell as

would purchase an hundred a year for

Fenton, " will

His friends

dreamed

lost,

life

the care of his friends,

and Gay sunk under

became

in

danger.

among whom Pope appears

have shown particular tenderness,

his health

was

re-

stored; and returning to his studies, he wrote a tragedy

The

called

Cafitives,

which he was

When

the princess of Wales.

invited to read before

the hour came, he

saw

the princess and her ladies all in expectation, and ad-

vancing with reverence too great for any other attention,

stumbled at a

and

stool,

falling forwards,

The

weighty japan screen.

screamed, and poor Gay, after

-till

all the disturbance,

was

to read his play.

The

fate of

The

I-ane in 1723-4,

by

threw down a

princess started, the ladies

Spence.

It

Ca/itives,

know

was acted seven

command

which was acted

not ;\ but he

nights.

The

at

Drury-

now thought himself

author's third night was

of their royal highnesses.

R.

GAY.

and undertook (1726) to write a volume of

in favour,

fables for the

For

land.

219

improvement

this

he

is

said to

of the

young duke of Cumber-

have been promised a l'eward,

which he had doubtless magnified with

all the

wild ex-

pectations of indigence and vanity.

Next year the prince and princess became king and

Gay was to be great and happy but upon the

queen, and

settlement of the household he found himself appointed

gentleman usher

By

to the princess Louisa.

this offer

he

thought himself insulted, and sent a message to the queen,

that he was too old for the place.

There seem

to

have

many machinations employed afterwards in his favour and diligent court was paid to Mrs. Howard, afterwards contess of Suffolk, who was much beloved by the
been

king and queen, to engage her interest for his promotion

the lady heard

them and did

nothing.

All the pain which he suffered from the neglect,

he perhaps termed

it,

away

but solicitations, verses, and flatteries, were thrown

or,

as

the ingratitude, of the court, may-

be supposed to have been driven away by the unexampled

success of the Beggar's Opera.

This play, written

drama, was

ridicule of the musical Italian

first

Gibber and his brethren at Drury-Lane, and rejected;

being then carried
crously said, of

Of
know
tion

this

to-

Rich, had the

making Gay

rich,

effect,

in

offered to
it

as was ludi-

and Rich gay.

lucky piece, as the reader cannot but wish to

the original and progress, I have inserted the rela-

which Spence has given

in

Pope's words.

" Dr. Swift had been observing once

to

Mr. Gay, what

an odd pretty sort of a thing a Newgate Pastoral might

make.
time

Gay was

inclined to try at such a thing for

but afterwards thought

a comedy on the same plan.

it

some

would be better to write

This was what gave

rise to

OAT.

220

He began

the Beggar's O/iera.

mentioned

As he

project.

both of us, and

word
ting.

or

two

carried

it

foundedly.

it

and when

much

bat

it

own wri-

of his

of us thought
;

would

it

who, after reading

We were

all,

at the first night of

in

it,

we were very much

till

in

the

see

it in

the

This was a good while before the

first

act

to us say,

eyes of them.'

'

do

It will

it

must do

over, and so gave us ease soon

was quite

in

duke (be-

for that

taste) has a particular knack, as any

own good

sides his

one now living,

great

encou-

raged by overhearing the duke of Argyle, who sat

was

it

would either take greatly, or be damned con-

uncertainty of the event;

next box

he

correction, or a

was wholly

it

Congreve

to

first

like the

he showed what he wrote to

on,

it

was done, neither

We showed

over, said,

it

we now and then gave a

of advice

When

succeed.

on

to Swift, the doctor did not

it

He

discovering the taste of the public.

right in this as usual

the good nature of the

audience appeared stronger and stronger every act, and

ended

a clamour of applause."

in

reception

Its

thus recorded

is

in

the notes to the

Dun-

ciad.

" This piece was received with greater applause than

was ever known.

Besides being acted

three days without interruption, and

season with equal applause,

towns

made
where

of

it

its
it

fortieth

it

was played

time

in

London

spread into

in

all

many places

at Bath and Bristol

was performed twenty-four days

fans, and

houses

The fame of
The person who

it

the great

fifty,

Sec.

It

Ireland,

successively'

them the favourite songs

were furnished

was

sixty-

to the thir-

progress into Wales, Scotland, and

ladies carried about with

screens.
tm\f.

England

and

tieth

The

of

in

renewed the next

with

it

in

not confined to the author

acted Polly,

till

then obscure.

GAY.
became

221

once the favourite of the town

all at

were engraved, and sold

in

great numbers

her

writ-

life

books of letters and verses to her published, and

ten,

pamphlets made even of her sayings and

more,

it

Of this performance, when

it

it

for ten years."

was printed, the reception

according to the different opinion of

different,

commended

Swift

ders.

Further-

jests.

drove out of England (for that season) the Italian

opera, which had carried all before

was

pictures

hex'

it

its i*ea-

mo-

for the excellence of its

rality, as a piece that " placed all kinds of vice in the

strongest and most odious light ;" but others, and

them Dr. Herring, afterwards archbishop

censured

it

as giving

of

among

Canterbury,

encouragement not only

to vice

by making a highwayman the hero, and

to crimes,

missing him at last unpunished.

but
dis-

has been even said,

It

that after the exhibition of the Beggar's Ofiera, the gangs

were evidently multiplied.

of robbers

Both these decisions are surely exaggerated.

like

many

others,

was

plainly written

without any moral purpose, and

do good
tion

than

nor can

it

is

The

therefore not likely t

be conceived, without more specula-

requires or admits, to be productive of

life

Highwaymen and house-breakers seldom

evil.

possible for any one to imagine that he

safety,

may

much

frequent

the play-house, or mingle in any elegant diversion

it

play,

only to divert 5

nor

is

rob with

because he sees Mackheath reprieved upon the

stage.

This objection however, or some other, rather

political

than moral, obtained such prevalence, that when

Gay

produced a second part under the name of Polly,

was

prohibited by the lord chamberlain

recompense

his repulse

have been so

Vol. II.

and he was forced

by a subscription, which

liberally bestowed, that

it

is

tc

said to

what he called on

BM

GAY.

prcssion ended

The

in profit.

favoured, that though the

first

was

publication

so

mud

part gained him four hun-

dred pounds, near thrice as much was the

profit of the

second.*

He

received yet another recompense for this supposed

hardship

in

the affectionate attention of the

duchess of Queensberry,

into

and with whom he passed the remaining part

The
the

duke and

whose house he was taken,

of his

life.

duke, considering his want of ceconomy, undertook

management

Wanted

it.f

But

of his
it is

money, and gave

to

it

him as he

supposed that the discountenance of

the court sunk deep into his heart, and gave him more
discontent than the applauses or tenderness of his friends

could overpower.

He

soon

fell into his

old distemper,

habitual cholic, and languished, though with

vals of ease and cheerfulness,

him

seized him, and hurried

till

many

a violent

to the grave,

fit

an

inter-

at last

as Arbuthnot

reported, with more precipitance than he had ever known.

He died on

173?, and was buried

the fourth of December,

in Westminsterabbey. Theletterwhich brought an account

of his death to Swift

was

laid

because when he received

by for some days unopened,

it lie

was imprest with the pre-

conception of some misfortune.

After his death, was published a second volume

more

fables,

Achilles

political

than

was acted, and

dow

sisters,

heirs

who

former.

His opera

oi

of

the profits were given to two wi-

what he

left,

as his lawful

for he died without a will, though he

had gathered!;

inherited

three thousand pounds.

There have appeared likewise

name a comedy
under
The Re hem sal at {iothrn:^
his

1 he

the

called

The Diatrcat Wife an J

a piece of humour.

cnaracter given him by Pope

Spcoce.

fJbid.

is this,

that " he
*lbid.

GAY.
a natural

223

man, without design, who spoke what he thought,

and just as he thought

;" and" that " he

it

was

of a timid

temper, and fearful of giving offence to the great ;"* which

caution however, says Pope, was of no avail.

As a
I

poet, he cannot be rated very high.

He

was, as

once heard a female critic remark, " of a lower order."

He had

not in any great degree the

author of a

new

of

only by

We

owe

comedy which at

its

divinior, the dig-

be allowed to the

species of composition, though

the highest kind.

mode

mens

Much however must

nity of genius.

Gay

to

first

novelty, but has

it

be not of

the ballad opera

was supposed

to delight

now by the experience

of half a

century been found so well accomodated to the disposition of

a popular audience, that

it is

Whether

this

of the^stage.

likely to

of judgment or of luck, the praise of

inventor

keep long possession

new drama was

it

the product

must be given

to the

and there are many writs** read with more,

reverence, to

whom

such merit of originality cannot be

attributed

His

was

first

performance, The Rural S/wrts,

easily planned

and executed;

The Fan

ble nor never excellent.

logical fictions

is

The

use, are of little value.

from a new tale

of

His fables seem

lie

is

such as

never contempti-

one of those mytho-

which antiquity delivers ready

but which, like other things that

to the

hand,

open to every one's

attention naturally retires

Venus, Diana, and Minerva.

to

have been a favourite work

having published one volume he

Of

it is

left

this kind of fables, the authors

for

another behind him.

do not appear

to

have

Ph^drus evidently

formed any distinct or settled

notion.

confounds them with Tales

and Gay both with Tales

Spence,

GAY.
and Allegorical Prsofio/Krias.
such as

now under

is

Fable or Jfiologue t

consideration, seems to be, in

nuine state, a narrative

which beings

in

ge-

its

and

irrational,

^sometimes inanimate, arborcs loquuntur^ non tantum Jera:,

are

for the

purpose of moral instruction, feigned

To

speak with human interest and passions.

compositions of

tion the

Gay

and

to act

this descrip-

do not always conform.

For

a fable he gives now and then a tale, or an abstracted allegory

and from some, by whatever name they may be called,

be

II

difficult to

extract any moral principle.

Kowever, told with liveliness

and the

Trivia

may

sprightly, various,

is

They
is

are,

smooth

constrained by

little

generally happy.

be allowed all that

and pleasant.

The

claims

it

subject

is

it

is

of that

Gay was by nature qualified to adorn; yet

may be justly wished away. An

kind which

some

the versification

though now and then a

diction,

measure on the rhyme,

To

of his decoration**

henest

blacksmith might have done for Tatty what

The appearance

performed by Vulcan.

is

of Cloacina is

nauseous and superfluous; a shoe-boy could have been

produced by the casual cohabitation of mere mortals. Horace's rule

'ice

is

mortal

trumpet.

Of
pised.

there

On

no dignus

any supernatural

great occasions, and on small, the mind

poems the public judgment seems

he story

is

and apparent falsehood.

they are neither

'I

is

may be made by the hammer of

and a bastard may be dropped by a human

his little
;

both cases

pattern

repelled by useless

right

in

7iodus, no difficulty that required

interposition.

broken

much esteemed

of the apparition is

to

be

nor totally des-

borrowed from one

of

the tales of Poggio. Those that please least are the pieces
to

which Gulliver gave occasion;

light in the

echo

of unnatural

for

fiction t

who can much

de-

GAY.
Dione

a counterpart

is

and other

225

Amynta and Pastor

same kind

of the

trifles

to

Fido,

easily imitated,

and

What the Italians call comedies

from a happy conclusion, Gay calls a tragedy from a
mournful event but the style of the Italians and of Gay
unworthy

of imitation.

is

There

equally tragical.

is

something

in

the poetical

Arcadia so remote from known reality and speculative

possibility,

that

we can never support

through a long work.

be endured

but

who

its

representation

pastoral of an hundred lines

will

myrtle bowers and purling rivulets, through

Such scenes please barbarians

and children

in

the

dawn

may

hear of sheep and goats, and

of life

in the
;

dawn

five acts

of literature,

but will be for the most

thrown away, as men grow wise } and nations grow learned,

GRANVILLE.

Of GEORGE
Greenville,

or

GRANVILLE,

or,

as

others

Grenville, afterwards lord

writs.

Landsdown.

known than
name and high rank might give reason to expect.
He was born about 1667, the son of Berna "d Greenville,
who was instructed by Monk with the most private
Bideford

of

in the

county of Devon, less

is

his

transactions of the restoration, and the grandson of

Greenville,

Bevil

battle of

who

Landsdown.

His early education was superintended by

Ellis

sir

died in the king's cause, at the

sir

William

and his progress was such, that before the age

ol

twelve he was sent to Cambridge,* where he pronounced

a copy of his own verses to the prineess

Modena, then duchess of York,

Mary

when she

d'Este

visited

o?

the

university.

At the

accession of king James, being

now

at eighteen,

he again exerted his poetical powers, and addressed the

new monarch

in

three short pieces, of which the

first

profane, and the two others such as a boy might be expect-

ed

to

produce

but he

who perhaps was

lines,

was commended by

old Waller,

pleased to find himself imitated

in

si>;

which, though they begin with nonsense and end with

To

Trinity College.

By

the university register

that be was admitted to his Master's degree in 1679

therefore, set the year of his birth

it
j

some years back.

appears

we must;
II.

GRANVILLE

227

dulness, excited in the young author a rapture of acknow-

ledgment.
In

number such

was probably

It

as Waller's self

might use.

about this time that he wrote the

poem

to the earl of Peterborough,

ment

of the

duke

upon his accomplish-

marriage with the prin-

of York's

Modena, whose charms appear

cess of

to

have gained a

strong prevalence over his imagination, and upon

whom

nothing ever has been charged but imprudent piety, and

intemperate and misguided zeal for the propagation

of

Popery.

However

faithful Granville

however enamoured

king, or

might have been to the

of the queen, he

has

left

no

reason for supposing that he approved either the artifices

or the

with

violence

insinuated or obtruded.

which the king's

He

religion

was

endeavoui'ed to be true a*

once to the king and to the church.

Of

this regulated loyalty

terity a

he has transmitted

sufficient proof, in the letter

to pos-

which he wrote

tc

a month before the prince of Orange

his father about

landed.

"Mar,

"To

the honourable

near Doncaster, Oct.

Mr. Barnard Granville,

6, 1688.

at the earl

of Bathe's St. James's.

"SIR,
" Your having no prospect

me

can no way alter or cool

juncture to venture
for

my

king and

my

"I cannot bear

obscure and idle

man who

in

my

life,

of obtaining a commission for

my
in

desire at this important

some manner or other

country.
iiving

under the reproach of lying

a country retirement,

when every

has the least sense of honour should be pre;

paring for the

field.

GRANVILLE.

228

"You may remember, sir, with what reluctance I

to your commands upon Monmouth's rebel-

submitted

when no importunity could

lion,

permit

me

be hazarded

age

any

but, give

me

was

leave to say,

one's count ly

for

to ilie

prevail

academy

lea\e the

to

it

with you

is

to

young

too

to

glorious at

and the sooner, the

nobler the sacrifice.

"

was

am now

battle of

My

older by three years.

when he was

not so old

Newbury

among

left

nor you yourself,

your escape from your

uncle

Bathe

the slain at the

when you made

sir,

to join your brotuer at the

tutor's,

defence of Scilly.

"The same
The

cause has now come round about again.

king has been misled

him be answerable
sacred

duty to defend

"You

and

to

say,

Hollanders are rash enough to

will, 1

it

be presented
tion

it is

after the

"The

to

who have misled

Nobody can deny but he

is

every honest man's

is

it

it.

are pleased

be that as

those

let

it.

own person

his

in

for

to

Ms majesty,

devote his

example
gentry

make

beg leave to

life

of all

yet doubtful

is

it

insist

as one

upon

assembled

the

it,

that

but

may

whose utmost ambiand my country's

to his service,

my

if

such an attempt

ancestors.
at

York,

to

agree upon the

choice of representatives for the county, have prepared

an address,

to

assure

sacrifice their lives

all

other occasions

beseech him

to give

his

majesty they

and fortunes
but at the

are ready to

him upon

this

and

same time they humbly

them such magistrates as may be

agreeable to the laws of the land

is

for

for,

at present,

there

no authority to which they can legally submit.

" They have been beating up

for volunteers at

York

the towns adjacent, to supply the regiments at Hull

nobody will

list

and.

but

GRANVILLE.
*

By what

king

"

229

can hear, every body wishes well

to the

but they would be glad his ministers were hanged.

The winds

continue so contrary, that no landing can

be so soon as was appi'ehended

may hope

therefore I

with your leave and assistance, to be in readiness before

any action can begin.

and most earnestly

many

to so

to

beseech you,

add

sir,

this one act of

most humbly

indulgence more

other testimonies which %{ have constantly

received of your goodness

and be pleased

to believe

always, with the utmost duty and submission,

me

sir,

" Your most dutiful son,

and most obedient servant,

Geo. Granville."
Through the whole reign
posed to have lived
for

of king

William he

some time few other pleasures but those

power.

He

is

sup

retirement, and indeed had

in literary

of study in his

was, as the biographers observe, the younger

son of a younger brother

a denomination by which our

ancestors proverbially expressed the lowest state of pe-

nury and dependance.

He

is

said,

however, to have pre-

served himself at this time from disgrace and

by ceconomy, which he forgot or neglected

vanced, and

About
of

difficulties

in life

more ad-

in better fortune.

this

time he became enamoured of the countess

New burgh, whom

he has celebrated with so

dour by the name of Mira.

He

wrote verses

to

much

ar-

her before

he was three-and-twenty, and may be forgiven if he

regarded the face more than the mind. Poets are sometimes

in too

much

haste to praise.

In the time of his retirement

composed
1696),

his

it
is probable that he
dramatic pieces, the She Gallants (acted

which he

revised,

and called Once a Lover and

GRANVILLE.

230

always a Lover

theJciv of Venice, altered from Shake

Merchant of Venice (1698); Heroic Love, a

The British Enchanters (1706), a dra;

speare's

tragedy (1701)

matic poem
to

and Pcltus arid Thetis^ a masque, written

accompany The Jciv of Venice.

The comedies, which he has

always a Lover

and gross.

is

not printed in his

never saw

of his works, I

edition

own

Once a Lover and

said to be in a great degree indecent

Granville could not admire without bigotry

he copied the wrong as well as the right from his mas-

and may be supposed

ters,

Wycherley,

as

have learned obscenity from

to

he learned mythology from Waller.

Rowe remarks, the charactei

made comic, and we are prompted to

In his Jciv of Venice, as

Shylock

of

is

laughter instead of detestation.

evident that Heroic

It is

Love was

written and pre-

sented on the stage before the death of Dryden.

mythological tragedy, upon the love of

It is

u.

Agamemnon and

Chryseis, and therefore easily sunk into neglect, though

praised
It is

in

verse by Dryden, and

Fate holds the strings, and

as they're led success

the

accession

of

earl of Bath,

soon

he was chosen

after

men
is

like children

move

from above.

engaged

in

his father,
into

and

his uncle the

parliament for Fowey.

a joint

translation

Invectives against Philifi, with a design, surely

puerile, of turning the thunder of

head

queen Anne, having his fortune

improved by bequests from

He

prose by Pope.

concluded by the wise Ulysses with this speech

But

At

in

of

the

weak and

Demosthenes upon the

of Louis.

He

afterwards (in

1706) had his estate again aug

mented by an inheritance from

his

elder brother, Sir

GRANVILLE.

of Barbadoes, died

parliament

as he returned from the government

who

Bevil Grenville,

231

at

He

sea.

continued to serve in

and in the ninth year of queen Anne was

chosen knight of the shire for Coritwall.

At

he

of the ministry (1710,)

memorable change

the

was made secretary

at war, in the place of

Mr. Robert

Walpole.

Next
peers

in

year,

when

made twelve

the violence of party

a day, Mr. Granville became lord Landsdown

baron Bideford, by a promotion justly remarked to be

not invidious,

because he was the heir of a family

in

which two peerages, that of the earl of Bath and lord

Granville

of

Potheridge,

Being now high

in

appointed

comptroller of

counsellor,

and

Of

to be

become

lately

Windsor Forest.

privy

was added the de-

He was advanced

treasurer of the household.

these favours he soon lost all but his

the accession of king George

the earl of Cholmondeley,

the rest of his party.

for attainting

extinct.

household, and a

the

to his other honours

dication of Pope's

next year

had

the queen's favour, he (1712) was

title

for at

was given

his place

Having protested against the

Ormond and

to

and he was persecuted with

Bolingbroke, he was,

bill

after

the insurrection in Scotland, seized Sep. 26, 1715, as a

suspected man, and confined in the tower

When he was

at last released,

till

and restored

Feb.

8,

1717,

to his seat in

parliament: where (1719), he made a very ardent and

animated speech against the repeal of the

occasional conformity,

bill to

which, however, though

prevent
it

was

then printed, he has not inserted into his works.

Sometimes afterwards (about 1722), being perhaps

embarrassed
countries,

by his

profusion,

with the usual

he went

into

foreign

pretence of recovering his

GRANVILLE.

Jj3

and retirement he

In this state of leisure

health.

ceived the

first

volume

of Burnet's history, of

re-

which be

cannot be supposed to have approved the general ten-

and where he thought himself able

dency,

some particular

vindication of general

hard.

This was

net and

Oldmixon

Monk, from some calumnies of

answered

civilly

performance

relation sir

Richard Greenville,

has shewn

in

urged

this

in

form very

that the reader

is

lord

many

Clarendon

So much

is

actions that have

culpable, and to palliate the rest,

reconciled

made very probable

enmity disposed

Mr. Ec-

of

Thomas Bur-

a defence of his

is

whom

unamiable.

apology to justify

been represented as

it is

by Mr.

and more roughly by Dr. Colbatch.

historical

to detect

therefore undertook the

some misrepresentations

Dr. Burnet, and

His other

He

falsehoods.

for the greater part

that Clarendon

to think

the

and

was by personal

worst of Greenville,

as

Greenville was also very willing to think the worst of

These pieces were published

Clarendon.
'o

at his return

England.

Being now desirous

to

conclude his labours, and enjoy

his reputation, he published (1732) a very beautiful

splendid edition of his works,

in

and

which he omitted wiuit

he disapproved and enlarged what seemed deficient.

He now went
queen Caroline

to court,
to

and was kindly received by

whom and

presented his works, with

to

the princess

Anne he

verses on the blank leaves,

with which he concluded his poetical labours.

He

died

in

Hanover-square, Jan. 30, 1735, having a

few days before buried his wife, the lady Anne

widow

to

Mr. Thynne, by whom he had

Villiers,

four daughters,

but no son.

Writers commonly derive their reputation from their

GRANVILLE.

233

works; but there are works which owe their reputation

to the

The public sometimes has

whom it rewards for one speciesof excellence
From him whom we
honours due to another.

character of the writer.

favourites

its

with the

we do not

reverence for his beneficence

the praise of genius

man

of

willingly withold

exalted merit becomes at

once an accomplished writer, as a beauty finds no great

difficulty in passing for a wit.

man

Granville was a

therefore attracted notice

polite,"

illustrious
;

since

he

is

he must be supposed elegant

by his birth, and

by Pope styled " the
manners, and

in his

generally loved; he was in times of contest and turbulence steady to

which
cy.

party,

his

and obtained that esteem

always conferred upon firmness and consisten-

is

With

those advantages, having learned the art of

he declared himself a poet ; and his claim to

versifying,

the laurel

was

But by a

allowed.

critic of

a later generation,

who

takes up

any favourable prejudices, the praise

his book without

already received will be thought sufficient

do not show him

to

for his

nature or- illumination from learning.

He seems

to

had no ambition above the imitation of Waller, of

he has copied the faults, and very little more.
for ever

works

have had much comprehension from

have

whom
He is

amusing himself with puerilities of mythology ;

if the queen brings no children,

his king is Jupiter, who,

has a barren Juno.

The queen

Venus, and Minerva.

is

compounded

of Juno,

His poem on the duchess of

Grafton's lawsuit, after having rattled awhile with Juno

and Pallas, Mars and Alcides, Cassiope, Niobe, and the

Propetides, Hercules, Minos, and Rhadamanthus, at last

concludes

its folly

His verses
tioned,

have

to

with profaneness.

Mira, which are most frequently men-

little in

them

of either art or nature, of the

sentiments of a lover or the language of a poet :_there

Vol.

II.

may

GRANV1LLK

2J4

be found, now and then, a happier

commonly

effort

but they are

and unaffecting, or forced and extrava-

feeble

gant.

His

little

pieces are seldom either sprightly or ele-

gant, either keen or weighty.

They

are

trifles

written

by idleness and published by vanity. But his prologues

and epilogues have a just claim to praise.

The Progress of Beauty seems one of his most
and

borate pieces,
gaiety

not

is

deficient

in

but the merit of original thought

Its highest praise

ela-

splendour and
is

wanting.

which he celebrates king James's consort, when she was a queen no

is

the spirit with

longer.

The Essay

on unnatural Flights in Poetry

is

not in-

elegant nor injudicious, and has something of vigour

beyond most of

his other

performances

his precepts

are just, and his cautions proper; they are indeed not

new, but

in a didactic

poem

novelty

is to

only in the ornaments and illustrations.

be expected

His poetical

precepts are accompanied with agreeable and instructive notes.

The Masque

of Pcleus and Thetis has here

there a pretty line

the conclusion

is

but

it is

and

not always melodious, and

wretched.

In his British Enchanters he has bidden defiance to

all

chronology, by confounding the inconsistent man-

ners of different ages

air of
ly,

but the dialogue has often the

Dryden's rhyming plays

though not very correct. This

of his works

for, if

it

wise passages which are

do not

rise to any

has

and his songs are

is, I

many

at least

live-

think, far the best

faults,

pretty,

it

has like-

though they

high degree of excellence.

YALDEN,

THOMAS

YALDEN,

the sixth son of

Mr. John

Yalden, of Sussex, was born in the city of Exeter, in

Having been educated

1671.

the grammar-school

in

belonging to Magdalen college

in

Oxford, he was in

1690, at the age of nineteen, admitted

commoner

of

Magdalen Hall, under the tuition of Josiah Pullen, a

man whose name is still remembered in the university.
He became next year one of the scholars of Magdalen
college, where he was distinguished by a lucky accident.
It

was his turn, one day,

to

pronounce a declamation

and Dr. Hough, the president, happening to attend,

thought the composition too good to be the speaker's.

Some time
larly

busy

nishment
artifice,

library,

been

lately

with

little difficulty

Yalden, as

it

happened, had

reading on the subject given, and produced

a composition

president, that he told

Among

set

and that he might not be deceived by any

locked the door.

promised

him a little irreguhim an exercise for pu-

after, the doctor finding

in the

to

his

which so pleased the

former suspicions, and

favour him.

his

contemporaries

dison and Sacheverell,

friends, and

him

who

in the college

men who were

were Ad-

in those

times

both adopted Yalden to their intimacy.

Yalden continued, throughout his life, to think as probably he thought at first, yet did not forfeit the friend^
ship of Addison.

YALDEN.

When Namur
made

was taken by king William, Yalden

There never was any reign more cele-

an ode.

brated by the poets than that of William,

who had

very

regard for song himself, but happened to employ

little

who

ministers

pleased themselves with the praise of

patronage.

Of

this

ode mention

that time, called

many

is

made

in a

humorous poem

The Oxford Laurait

made and

claims had been

in

rejected,

of

which, after

Yalden

is re-

presented as demanding the laurel, and as being called to his trial, instead of receiving a reward.

His crime was for being a felon

And

in verse,

presenting his theft to the king;

The

first was a trick not uncommon or scarce,

But the last was an impudent thing
Yet what he had stol'n was so little worth stealing,
They forgave him the damage and costs,
Had he ta'en the whole ode as he took it piece-mealing,
They had fin'd him but tenpence at most.

The

poet

whom

he was charged with robbing was

Congreve.

He

wrote another poem, on the death of the duke of

Gloucester.
In 1700 he

became

fellow of the college

and next

was presented by the society

Warwickshire,* consistent with his fel-

year, entering into orders,

with a living in

lowship, and chosen

very honourable

On
poem
to

lecturer of moral philosophy, a

office.

the accession of queen

;

and

is said,

Anne he wrote another

by the author of the Biogra/ihia, to

have declared himself of the party

who had

the ho-

nourable distinction of high-churchmen.

*

The vicarage

of Willoughhy, which he resigned in 1T08.

YALDEX.

237

In 1706 he was received into the family of the duke

Next year he became doctor in divinity,

of Beaufort.
and soon after resigned his fellowship and lecture ; and
as a token of his gratitude,

gave the college a picture

of their founder.

He

was made rector of Chalton and

Cleanville,*

two

and
had the prebends, or sinecures, of Deans, Hains and Pendies, in Devonshire.
He had beforef been chosen, in
adjoining towns and benefices in Hertfordshire

1698, preacher of Bridewell hospital, upon the resignation of Dr. Atterbury.J

From

time he seems

this

inoffensive

life, till

to

have led a quiet and

the clamour was raised about Atter-

bury's plot. Every loyal eye was on the watch for abethorrid conspiracy

tors or partakers of the

Yalden, having

some acquaintance with

and Dr.

the bishop, and

being familiarly conversant with Kelly his secretary,

fell

under suspicion, and was taken into custody.

Upon

examination he was charged with a dan-

his

gerous correspondence with Kelly.

The

correspon-

dence he acknowledged

treasonable tendency.

His papers were seized

but maintained that

nothing was found that could

had no
;

but

a crime

upon him,
pocket-book, thorough paced

except two words in his

doctrine.

it

fix

This expression the imagination of his ex-

aminers had impregnated with treason, and the doctor

was enjoined

them

them.

to explain

that the

words had

laid

Thus

pressed, he told

unheeded

in his

pocket-

book from the time of queen Anne, and that he was

*

fort.

This preferment was given him by the duke of Beau*

f Not long after.

* Dr. Atterbury retained the office of preacher at Bridewell
1

till

his promotion to the bishoprick of Rochester. Dr. Yalden

succeeded him as preacher

in

June, 1713. N.

U2

YALDLN'.

238

ashamed

to

give an account of them

but the truth

was, that he had gratified his curiosity one day by hear-

ing Daniel Burgess

in the pulpit, and those words were

memorial hint of a remarkable sentence by which he
warned his congregation to " beware of thorough paced
doctrine, that doctrine which, coming in at one ear

paces through the head, and goes out the other."

Nothing worse than this appearing in his papers,

no evidence arising against him, he was set at

.ind

.ibcrty.

man

not be supposed that a

It will

attuned high dignities

tained the friendship

of a very

in the

church

of this character
;

but he

still

re-

and frequented the conversation

numerous and splendid

set of acquaintance.

He died July 16, 1736, in the 66th year cf his age.

Of his poems, many are of that irregular kind which,
when he formed
to

as a

his poetical character,

Having

be Pindaric.

model he has attempted

some

in

sort to rival

Hymn to Darkness,
Cowley's Hymn to Light.

and has written a

counterpart to

was supposed
Cowley

fixed his attention on

him,

evidently as a

This hymn seems to be his best performance, and is,

most part, imagined with great vigour and ex-

for the

pressed with great propriety.

The

seven

first

I will

stanzas arc good

and seventh, are the best

a contradiction; the tenth

the eighth
is

not transcribe

it.

but the third, fourth,

seems

to involve

exquisitely beautiful; the

thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth, are partly mythological

and partly religious, and therefore not suitable to

he might better have made the whole

each other

merely philosophical.

There

may be

are two stanzas in this

poem where Yalden

suspected, though hardly convicted, of having

consulted the

Hymnus ad Umbram of Wowcrus, in the

some sort to these lines

sixth stanza, which answers in

YALDEN.
Ilia

'239

suo prxest nocturnis numine sacris

vias errare novis dat spectra figuris,

Perque

Manesque

excitos medios ululare per agros

Sub nootem.

And
Ilia

et

questunotos complerc penates.

again, at the conclusion

suo senium secludit corpore toto

Haud numerans

jugi fugientia secula lapsu,

Ergoubi postremum mundi compage soluta

Hanc rerum molem suprema absumpserit bora

nube amplectetur opacka,

Et prisco imperio rursus donunabitur umbra.

.Ipsa leves cineres

His Hymn to Light is not equal to the other. He

seems to think that there is an east absolute and positive where morning rises.
In the last stanza, having mentioned the sudden
eruption of new-created light, he says,
Awhile

He ought

to

th'

Almighty wond'ring stood.

have remembered that infinite knowledge

can never wonder. All wonder

is

the effect of novelty

upon ignorance.

Of

his other

poems

it is

sufficient to say, that they

deserve perusal, though they are not always exactly

polished, though the
sorted, and

though

rhymes are sometimes very ill

seem rather the omissions

his faults

of idleness than the negligences of enthusiasm.

TICKELL.

THOMAS

TICKELL,

son of the reverend

the

Richard Tickell, was born in 1686, at Bridekirk, in

Cumberland and in April, 1701, became a member of
Queen's college in Oxford; in 1708 he was made
;

master of

arts

and, two years afterwards, was chosen

fellow; for which, as he did not

comply with the stafrom

tutes, by taking orders, he obtained a dispensation

The crown.

vacated

it,

He

held his fellowship

by marrying,

till

1726, and then

in that year, at

Dublin.

Tickell was not one of those scholars

away

who wear

their lives in closets; he entered early into the

world, and was long busy in public

affairs, in which
under the patronage of Addison, whose
notice he is said to have gained by his verses in praise
of Rosamond.

he was

To

initiated

those verses

it

would not have been just to deny

some of the most elegant enco-

regard, for they contain

miastic strains

and,

of the same kind,

it

among

will

the innumerable

be hard

they need io fear a comparison.

vation,

when Pope

that,

to find
It

may deserve obser-

wrote long afterwards

praise of Addison, he has copied,

bled, Tickell

at least

fair

Tlosumonda's shade,

And wreaths of myrtle crown the lovely maid,

While now perhaps with Dido's ghosts she roves,
And hears and tells the storv of their loves
:

in

has resem-

Let joy salute

poems

one with which

241

TICKELL.

Alike they mourn, alike they bless their fate,

made them wretched, made them

Since love, which

great

Nor longer

Which

doom bemoan,

that relentless

gain'd a Virgil and an Addison.

TlCKELL.

Then

How
Or

future ages with delight shall see

Plato's, Bacon's,

Newton's looks agree

bards be shown,

in fair series laurell'd

Virgil there, and here an Addison.

Pope.

He produced another piece of the same kind at the

appearance of Cato, with equal skill but not equal happiness.

When

Anne were

the minsiters of queen

negocia-

ting with France, Tickell published The Prospect of

Peace, a poem, of which the tendency was to reclaim

the nation from the pride of conquest to the pleasures

of tranquillity. How far Tickle, whom Swift after-

wards mentioned as Wkiggissimus, had then connect*

ed himself with any party I know not this poem certainly did not flatter the practices or promote the opi;

men by whom he was

nions of the

afterwards befriend-

ed.

Mr. Addison, however he hated the men then

in

power, suffered his friendship to prevail over his public spirit, and gave in the Spectator such praises of
Tickell's

peruse

poem,

that

when,

after

having long wished

thought it unehad received, and found

it a piece to be approved rather than admired. But
the hope excited by a work of genius being general
and indefinite, is rarely gratified. It was read at that
to

it,

I laid

hold on

qual to the honours which

time with so

At

much

at last, I

it

favour, that six editions were sold.

George he sung The Royal

which being inserted in the Spectator is

the arrival of king

Progress

it

TICKELL.

known and of which

neither high nor low.

well

The

poetical incident of

kell's life

was

it

is

just to say, that

it

is

most importance in Ticbook of the

his publication of the first

Iliad, as translated

by himself, an apparent opposition

Pope's Homer, of which the first part made its entrance into the world at the same time.
to

Addison declared that the rival versions were both

good, but that Tickell's was the best thai ever was
made; and with Addison, the wits, his adherents and
followers,

were certain

pear to have been

Pope does not ap-

to concur.

much dismayed

" for," says he,

"I have the town, that is the mob, on my side." But

he remarks, " that it is common for the smaller party
to make up in diligence what they Want in numbers ;
he appeals

to the

people as his proper judges

they are not inclined to

condemn him, he

and,

if

is in little

care about the high-flyers at Button's."

Pope
judge

did
for

not long think Addison an impartial

he considered him as the writer of Tic-

The

kell's version.

reasons for his suspicion

I will

from Mr. Spence's collection.

" There had been a coldness (said Mr. Pope) between Mr. Addison and me for some time and we
had not been in company together, for a good while,

literally transcribe

any where but

Button's coffee-house, where

I used
meeting me
there one day in particular, he took me aside, and
said he should be glad to dine with me, at such a tavern, if I staid till those people were gonc(Budgell
and Philips). We went accordingly; and after dinner

to see

Mr. Addison
to talk with

whilst at
r//arf|

at

him almost every day

said,

me

On

his

'That he had wanted

for

some time
fonm rly

that his friend Tickell had

Oxford, translated the

that he designed to print

book of the
and had desired

first
it,

T1CKELL.

243

him to look it over that he must therefore beg that I

would not desire him to look over my first book, because if he did, it would have the air of double-deal;

ing.' I assured

him

that

did not at

all

take

it ill

of,

Mr. Tickell that he was going to publish his translathat he certainly had as much right to translate
any author as myself; and that publishing both was
entering on a fair stage. I then added, that I would
not desire him to look over my first book of the /Had,
because he had looked over Mr. TickelPs but could

tion

wish to have the benefit of his observations on the second, which I had then finished, and which Mr. Tic-

had not touched upon. Accordingly I sent him the

second book the next morning and Mr. Addison a
few days after returned it, with very high commenda-

kell

Soon after it was generally known that Mr.

was publishing the first book of the Iliad, I
met Dr Young in the street and upon our falling

tions.

Ti'ckell

into that subject, the doctor expressed a great deal of

surprise at Tickell's having had such a translation so

long by him

He

said, that

it

was inconceivable

to

him, and that there must be some mistake in the matthat each used to communicate to the other
ter
;

whatever verses they wrote, even to the

least things

that Tickell could not have

been busied in so long a

work there without his knowing something of the
matter andthat he had never heard a single word of
it till on this occasion.
The surprise of Dr Young,
;

together with what Steele has said against Tickell in

relation to this affair, make it highly probable that
there was some underhand dealing in that business;
and indeed Tickell himself, who is a very fair worthy

man, has since in a manner as good as owned it to

me. When it was introduced into a conversation between Mr. Tickell and Mr. Pope, by a third person.

TICKELL.

JPifl

Tickell did not deny

and zeal

for his

it

which, considering his honour

departed friend, was the same as own-

in**.*

Upon

these suspicions, with which Dr.

Warburton
Pope always
book as the work of

hints that other circumstances concurred,

his

in

Art of Sinking quotes

this

Addison.

To compare
the palm

is

the two translations would he tedious

now given

universally to

Pope

but

think

of Tickell's were rather to be perferrcd

Pope seems to have since borrowed something
from them in the correction of his own.
When the Hanover succession was disputed, Tickell

the

first lines

and

gave what assistance his pen would supply.

to Avignon stands high among party-poems

His
;

it

letter

expres-

ses contempt without coarseness, and superiority with-

out insolence.

being

five

It

had the success which

it

deservedj

times printed.

He was now intimately united to Mr. Addison, who,

when he went into Ireland as secretary to the lord
Sunderland, took him thither and employed him in
and when (1T17) afterwards he rose
public business
to be secretary of state, made him undersecretary.
;

Their friendship seems to have continued without

for when Addison died, he left him the
abatement
charge of publishing his works, with a solemn recom;

mendation

To

to the

patroage of Craggs.

these works he prefixed an elegy on the author,

which could owe none of its beauties to the assistance

which might be suspected to have strengthened or embellished his earlier compositions

but neither he nor

Addison ever produced nobler lines than arc contained

nor is a more subin the third and fourth paragraphs
;

lime or more elegant funeral-poem to be found

whole compass of English literature.

in the

TICKELL,

He

345

was afterwards (about 1725) made secretary

to

the lords justices of Ireland, a place of great honour;

in

which he continued

till

740,

when he

died on the

twenty-third of April, at Bath.

Of

poems

the

yet unmentioned the longest

sington Gardens, of which the versification

and elegant, but

Grecian

deities

tlie

exploded beings

those

when they

To

other contemptible.

be furgotten

the 3/iectator.

he

is

could

is Kensmooth

compounded of

Neither species of

have done

much and
make each
;

Tickell, however, cannot be

among the minor

that

poets ; nor should

he was one of the contributors to

With respect

said to have

least a

fairies.

are brought together they only

refused a high place

it

fiction unskilfully

and Gothic

is

been a

to his personal character,

man

of gay conversation, at
temperate lover of wine and company, and in his

domestic relations without censure.

Vol.

II.

HAMMOND.

Of

Mr.

HAMMOND,

bered as a

and the great,

was

at

memorials than such

fibber's

though he be well remem-

man esteemed

lives

and caressed by the elegant

able to obtain no other

first

by a book called

as are supplied

of the Poets

of which

take this op-

was not written, nor, I believe,

ever seen, by either of the Cibbers but was the works
portunity to testify that

it

man

of Robert Shiels, a native of Scotland, a

acute understanding, though with

who, not long

cation,

his

end was pious.

His

work,

was virtuous,

life

Theophilus Cibber, then a

soner for debt, imparted, as

ten guineas.

of very

scholastic edu-

after the publication of his

died in London of a consumption.

and

little

The manuscript

was

pris-

name for
now in my

his

told,

of Shiels

is

possession.
I

have since found that Mr. Shiels, though he was no

negligent inquirer, had been misled by false accounts

for

he relates that James

Hammond,

the author of the

was the son of a Turkey merchant, and had

some office at the prince of Wales's court, till love of
a lady, whose name was Dashwood, for a time disorHe was unextinguishably
dered his understanding.
elegies,

amorous, and

Of

his mistress inexorably cruel.

this narrative, part is true

the second son of Anthony

and part

Hammond,

false.

man

He was
of note

HAMMOND.
among

247

the wits, poets, and parliamentary orators, in the

Beginning of this century,

Walpole by marrying

who was

Robert
was born about

allied to sir

He

his sister.*

1710, and educated at Westminster-school

it

does

He

was

but

not appear that he was of any university, t

equerry to the prince of Wales, and seems to have

come very

early into public notice, and to have been

by those whose friendships prejudiced

time in favour of the man on whom
they were bestowed ; for he was the companion of Cobdistinguished

mankind
ham,

at that

Lyttelton, and Chesterfield.

divided his

tirement forgetting the town, and

the student.

He

Of

have

said to

is

between pleasure and books

life

in his re-

in his gaiety losing

his literary hours all the

effects are

here exhibited, of which the elegies were written very

early,

and the prologue not long before

his death.

In 1741, he was chosen into parliament for Truro in

Cornwell, probably one of those

the prince's influence

who were

elected by

and died next year, in June,

Stowe, the famous seat of lord Cobham.

The

1779 died unmarried.

long outlived him, and in

at

His mistress

character which her lover bequeathed her was, indeed,

not likely to attract courtship.

The

elegies

were

while the writer's

ness, they

published after his death

name was remembered

were read with a resolution

The recommendatory
then believed, and
*

This

account

is

is

admire them.

affirmed by Dr.

who was
Maty to be

erroneous

James

Hammond,

author, was of a different family, the second son of

Hammond,

and

preface of the editor,

now
still

to

with fond-

our

Anthony

of Somersham-place, in the county of Huntingdon,

See Gent. Mag. vol. LVII. p. 780. R.
f Mr. Cole gives him to Cambridge. MSS. Athens Cantab.

Esq.

inMus.

Brit. C.

HAMMOND.

248

of

the earl

raised

Chesterfield,

strong prejudices

iji

their favour.

But of the prefaccr, whoever he was,

sonably suspected

it

may be

he never read the poems

that

rea;

for

he professes to value them for a very high species of

excellence, and recommends them as the genuine effusions of the

mind, wluch expresses a real passion

in

have

But the truth is, these elegies

Where
neither passion, nature, nor manners.

there

is

the language of nature.

fiction,

there

no passion

is

he that decribes

himself as a shepherd, and his Neaera or Delia as a

shepherdess, and talks of goats and lambs, feels no pas-

He

sion.

that courts his mistress with

deserves to lose her

suspect his sincerity.

for

she

may

Hammond

Roman imagery

with

good reason

has few sentiments

drawn from nature and few images from modern life.

He produces nothing but frigid pedantry. It would be
hard to find

in

ail

his

productions three stanzas that

deserve to be remembered.

Like other lovers, he threatens the lady with dying

and what then

shall follow

\\\h thou in tears thy lover's corse attend?

With eyes averted light the solemn pyre
Till all

Then, slowly sinking, by degrees expire

To

around the doleful flames ascend,

?

sooth the hovering soul be thine the care,

With

plainlitc cries to lead the mournful

band,

n sable weeds the golden vast- o bear.

And cull my ashes with tby trembling hand
1

I'anchaia's

And

all

odours be their costly

feast,

the pride of Asia's fragrant year;

Give them the treasures of

And, what

is still

more

tin

tardiest east,

precious, give thy

HAMMOND.
Surely no blame can
a swain of so

little

fall

249

upon a nymph who rejected

meaning.

His verses are not rugged, but they have no sweetWhy

they never glide in a stream of melody.

ness

Hammond

or other writers have thought the quatrain

of ten syllables elegaic,

it is

difficult to tell.

racter of the elegy is gentleness and tenuity

The
;

cha-

but this

stanza has been pronounced by Dryden, whose

know-

ledge of English metre was not inconsiderable, to be

the most magnificent of

guage

all

the measures which our lan-

affords,.

x2

SOMERVILE.

Of

Mr * SOMERVILE'S

any thing that can

He was
shire

life

am

not able to say

satisfy curiosity.

whose estate was in Warwickwhere he was born in 1692, is called

a gentleman

his house,

Edston, a seat inherited from a long line of ancestors

was

for he

He

said to be of the first family in his county.

tells of

himself that he was born near the Avon's

He

was bred at the Winchester school, and

was elected fellow of New College. It does not ap-

banks.

pear that

in the

places of his education he exhibited

uncommon

any

powers were

His

proofs of genius or literature.

first

displayed in the country, where he

was distinguished

as a poet, a gentleman, and a skilful

and useful justice of the peace.

Of

the close of his

life,

those

whom

his

poems have

delighted will read with pain the following account,

copied from the letters of his friend Shenstone, by

he was too much resembled.
"
Our old friend Somcrvile

gine

is

dead

could have been so sorry as

find

whom

did not ima-

myself on

this

occasion Sublatum i/uarimus. I can now excuse all his

foibles impute them to age, and to distress of circum;

stances;

tin

last

of

these considerations wrings

For a man of high

very soul to think on.

'

William.

spirit,

my
con-

SOMERVILE.

251

scious of having (at least in one production) generally

pleased the world, to be plagued and threatened

bjr

wretches that are low in every sense ; to be forced to

drink himself into pains of the body, in order to get
rid of the pains of the

He

mind,

a misery."

is

died July 19, 1742, and was bur ried at Wotton,

near Henly on Arden.

His distresses need not be much pitied ; his estate

said to have been fifteen hundred a year, which by
His
his death devolved to lord Somervile of Scotland.

is

mother indeed, who

lived

ninety,

till

had a jointure of

six hundred.
It is

with regret that I find myself not better enabled

to exhibit

memorials of a writer who

at least

allowed to have set a good example to

class,

by devoting part of

ledge

must be

of his

own

time to elegant know-

his

and who has shewn, by the subject which his

poetry has adorned, that

men

skilful

practicable to be at once

it is

sportsman and a man of

letters.

Somervile has tried many modes of poetry

though perhaps he has not

lence as to raise
at least, that

much

in

envy,

and

any reached such excel-

it

may commonly be

said

" he writes very well for a gentlemen."

His serious pieces are sometimes elevated, and his trifles are sometimes elegant.
In his verses to Addison
t

the couplet which mentions Clio

is

written with the

most exquisite delicacy of praise ; it exhibits one of

those happy strokes which are seldom attained.
In his
Odes to Marlborough there are beautiful lines ; but in
the second Ode he shews that he knew little of his hero, when he talks of his private virtues.
His subjects
are commonly such as require no great depth of thought
or energy of expression.
His Fables are generally
stale,

ite

and therefore excite no curiosity.

The Two Springs, the

Of

his favour-

fiction is unnatural

and the

B0MERVILE.

252

moral inconsequential.
coarseness, with too

In his Tales there

little

is

too

much

care of language, and not

sufficient rapidity of narration.

His great work

his

is

the Chase, which he undertook in

matuier age, when

his ear

was improved

to the ap-

probation of blank verse, of which however his two

lines

be

To

gave a bad specimen.

He

totally denied.

is

this

poem

allowed by sportsman

with great intelligence of his subject, which

requisite to excellence
interest the

common

and though

it is

first

praise cannot

is

to write

the

first

impossible to

readers of verse in the dangers or

pleasures of the chase, he has done

and variety could easily effect

priety enlarged his plan by the

all

that

transition

and has with great pro-

modes

of hunting used

in other countries.

With

still

le-s

judgment

did he choose blank verse as

the vehicle of Hural Sports.

mid and gorgeous,

images

in

it

is

If blank verse be not tu-

crippled prose; and familiar

laboured language have nothing to recom-

mend them but absurd

novelty, which, wanting the

attractions of nature, cannot please long.

lence of The SfileJidid Shilling

is,

guise can gratify no longer than

that

it

it is

One
short.

deceives.

excel-

Dis-

SAVAGE.*

IT

has been observed in

all

ages, that the advantages

of nature or of fortune have contributed very

promotion of happiness

and that those

little to

whom

the

the splen-

dour of their rank or the extent of their capacity have

placed upon the summits of

human

life,

given any just occasion to envy in those

them from

lower station

superiority incites

whether

it

have not often

who

look up to

be that apparent

great designs, and

great designs

are naturally liable to fatal miscarriages, or that the ge-

mankind

neral lot of

is

those whose eminence

attention have

misery, and the misfortunes of

drew upon them

a universal

been more carefully recorded, because

they were more generally observed, and have in reality

been only more conspicuous than those of others, not

more frequent

or

more

severe.

affluence and power, advantages extrinsic and

That

adventitious, and therefore easily separable

whom

by
the

mind with expectations

* The
to

first

of felicity which they can-

edition of this interesting narrative, according*

1

Boswell, was published in 1744, by Roberts.

Mr.

second,

from those

they are possessed, should very often flatter

now

by Cave.
he added

Very few
it

The

before me, bears date 1748, and was published

alterations

were made by the author when

to the present collection.

C,

SAVAGE.

254

not give, raises no astonishment

but

seems

it

to hope, that intellectual greatness should

ter effects

should

who

that

first

minds qualified

for

great attainments

endeavour their own benefit

are most able to teach others the

should with most certainty follow

But

however

this expectation,

very frequently disappointed.

as well as civil history

markable

for

it

way

and that they

to happiness,

themselves.

plausible, has

The

been

heroes of literary

have been very often no less re-

what they have suffered, than

they have achieved

rational

produce bet-

for

what

and volumes have been writtten

only to enumerate the miseries of the learned, and relate their

To
life

unhappy

lives

and untimely deaths.

I am
man whose

these mournful narratives,

of Richard Savage, a

about to add the

writings entitle

him to an eminent rank in the classes of learning, and

whose misfortunes claim a degree of compassion not
always due to the unhappy, as they were often the con-

sequences of the crimes of others, rather than

In the year 1697,

Anne countess

his

own.

of Macclesfield,

having lived some time upon very uneasy terms with

her husband, thought a public confession of adultery
the

most obvious and expeditious method of obtaining

her liberty

and therefore declared, that the child with

which she was then great was begotten by the carl

Rivers.
This, as may be imagined made her husband
no

less desirous of a

prosecuted his design

for

separation than herself, and he

in

the

most

effectual

manner;

he applied not to the ecclesiastical courts for a

di-

vorce, but to the parliament for an act, by which his

marriage might be dissolved, the nuptial contract

tally annulled,

ed.

This

and the children of

act, alter the usurd deliberation,

though without the

to-

his wife illegitimat-

he obtained,

approbation of some, who

consider-

ed marriage as an affair only cognizable by ccclesias-

SAVAGE.

25a

March 3d was separated from

whose fortune, which was very great, was repaid her, and who having, as well as her husband, the
deal judges;* and on

his

wife,

liberty of

making another

was

choice,

in a short

time

married to Col. Brett.

While

the earl of Macclesfield was prosecuting this

affair, his

wife was, on the 10th of January, 1697-8, de-

livered of a son

consider

him

and the earl Rivers, by appearing

as his

own,

left

none any reason

of the sincerity of her declaration

father, and

gave him

his

for he

to

was

his

to

doubt
god-

own name, which was by

his

Andrew's parHolborn, but unfortunately left him to the care

mother, whom, as she was now set free from her

direction inserted in the register of St.

ish in

of his

husband, he

probably imagined

pleasing an event.

It

is

treat

with

not indeed easy to discover

what motives could be found

affection

likely to

that had contributed to so

great tenderness the child

to overbalance that natural

of a parent, or what interest could be promo-

The dread of shame or of

some wretches have been incited to
murder their children, cannot be suppo-

ted by neglect or cruelty.

poverty, by which

abandon or to

sed to have affected a

woman who had

crimes and solicited reproach and on

proclaimed her

whom

*This year was made remarkable by the

marriage solemnized in the face of

the clem-

dissolution of a

the church.

Salmon's

Reyiew.

The

following protest

is

registered in the books of the house

of lords.
Dissentient.

Because we conceive that this is the first bill of that nature

where there was not a divorce first obtained
in the spiritual court which we look upon as an ill precedent
and may be of dangerous consequence in the future.
that hath passed,

Halifax.

Rochesteb.

SAVAGE.

256

cncy of the

legislature

fortune, which

had undeservedly bestowed a

would have been very

little diminished
by the expenses which the care of her child could have
brought upon her. It was therefore not likely that she

would be wicked without temptation that she would

look upon her son from his birth with a kind of resentment and abhorrence and, instead of supporting, as;

and defending

sisting,

hi:n, delight to

see

him strug-

gling with misery, or that she would take every opportunity of aggravating
his

his

misfortunes, and

obstructing

resources and with an implacable and restless cru-

elty continue her persecution

the

life to

from the

first

hour of his

last.

But whatever were her motives, no sooner was her

son born, than she discovered a resolution of disowning

him

and

very short time removed him from her

in a

sight,

by committing him to the care of a poor woman,

whom

she directed to educate him as her own, and en-

him of his true parents.

Such was the beginning of the life of Richard Savage.
Born with a legal claim to honour and to affluence, he
was In two months illegitimated by the parliament, and
disowned by his mother, doomed to poverty and obscurity, and launched upon the ocean of life, only that
joined never to inform

he might be swallowed by

upon

its

its

quick-sands, or dashed

rocks.

His mother could not indeed infect others with the

same

cruelty.

quiries

As

which the

it

was impossible

to avoid

the in-

curiosities or tenderness of her rela-

made after her child, she was obliged to give

some account of the measures she had taken and her
tions

mother, the lady Mason, whether

design, or to prevent

gaged
care,

to

and

transact
to

in

more criminal

approbation of her
contrivances, en-

with the nurse, to pay her for her

superintend the education of the child

SAVAGE.

25r

In this charitable office she was assisted by his godmother Mrs. Lloyd, who, while she lived, always looked upon him with that tenderness which the barbarity
of his mother made peculiarly necessary but her
death, which happened in his tenth year, was another
for though she
of the misfortunes of his childhood
;

kindly endeavoured to alleviate his loss by a legacy of

three hundred pounds, yet, as he had none to prosecute
his claim, to shelter

him from oppression, or

executors, and no part of the

He

money was ever

paid.

was, however, not yet wholly abandoned.

Mason

lady

still

law

call in

her will was eluded by the

to the assistance of justice,

The

continued her care, and directed him

to be placed at a small

grammer-school near

ban's where he was called by the

name

St.

Al-

of the nurse,

without the least intimation that he had a claim to any

other.

Here he was initiated in literature, and passed

through several of the classes, with what rapidity or
'with what applause cannot now be known.
As he always spoke with respect of his master, it is probable
that the mean rank in which he then appeared did not
hinder his genius from being distinguished, or his industry from being rewarded

and

obtained distinction and rewards,

if in
it

so low a state he
is

not likely that

they were gained but by genius and industry.

It is

very reasonable to conjecture, that this applica-

was equal

to his abilities, because his improvement

was more than proportioned to the opportunities which
he enjoyed nor can it be doubted, that if his earliest

tion

productions had been preserved, like those of happier

students,

we might in some have found vigorous sallies

humour which distinguishes The Au-

of that sprightly
thor to be

Vol.

let,

II.

and

in others

strong touches of that ar-

SAVAGE.

258

dent imagination which painted the solemn scenes of

The Wanderer.

While he was

thus cultivating his genius, his father

the earl Rivers was seized with a distemper, which in

He had frequently

a short time put an end to his life*

inquired after his son, and had always been

with fallacious and evasive answers
his opinion on his

amused
now in

but, being

death bed, he thought

it

duty

his

him among his other natural children,

and therefore demanded a positive account of him,
to provide for

His

with an importunity not to be diverted or denied.

who

mother,

mined

could no longer refuse an answer, deter-

such as should cut him off for

at least to give

ever from that happiness which competence affords,

and therefore declared that he was dead

haps the

first

instance of a

lie

which

is

per-

invented by a mother to

deprive her son of a provision which was designed him

by another, and which she could not expect herself,

though he should lose

it.

This was therefore an act of wickedness which could

not be defeated, because it could not be suspected the
;

carl did not imagine there could exist in a

human form

a mother that would ruin her son without enriching

herself,

and therefore bestowed upon some other per-

son six thousand pounds, which he had

in his will

be-

queathed to Savage.

The same

cruelty which incited his mother to inter-

cept this provision

prompted her

which had been intended him.

in a short

time to another project, a pro-

ject worthy of such a disposition.

lid herself

known

to

He

at

any time

to

made

him, by sending him secretly to the Ameri-

can plantations.

She endeavoured

from the dangers of being

died August 18th, 1712.

R.

| Savage's preface to his miscellanies

SAVAGE.

259

By whose kindness this scheme was counteracted, or

by whose interposition she was induced to lay aside her
design, I know not ; it is not improbable that the lady
Mason might persuade
perhaps she

enough

to

compel her

or

could not easily find

concur

in so cruel

conceived, that those,

an action

who had by

to desist,

or

accomplices wicked
;

for

it

may be

a long gradation of

guilt

hardened their hearts against the sense of com-

mon

wickedness, would yet be shocked

at the

design

of a mother to expose her son to slavery and want, to

expose him without interest, and without provocation

and Savage might on this occasion find protectors and
advocates among those who had long traded in crimes,
and whom compassion had never touched before.
Being hindered, by whatever means, from banishing
;

him into another country, she formed soon after a

scheme for burying him in poverty and obscurity in
his own and that his station of life, if not the place of
his residence, might keep him for ever at a distance
from her, she ordered him to be placed with a shoemaker in Holborn, that, after the usual time of trial, he
might become his apprentice.*
;

It

is

generally reported, that this project was for

some time
at the

was

it

successful, and that

Savage was employed

awl longer than he was willing to confess ; nor

perhaps any great advantage to him, that an un-

expected discovery determined him

to quit his

occupa-

tion.

About this time his nurse, who had always

him as her own son, died and it was natural
;

to take care of those effects

as he imagined,

become

his

treated
for

him

which by her death were,

own he
;

therefore went to

her house, opened her boxes, and examined her papers,

* Savage's preface to his miscellanies.

'J60

Oil

among which

he found some letters written to her b)

Mason, which informed him of his birth, and

the reasons for which it was concealed.
II- was no longer satisfied with the employment
which had been allotted him, but thought he bad a
the lady

light to share the affluence of ids

mother

and there-

without scruple applied to her as her son, and

Rire

made

use of every art to awaken her tenderness, and

But neither

attract her regard.

terposition of those friends

which

his letters,

nor the

in-

merit or his di>

Ids

procured him, made any impression upon her

tress

mind.

She

still

resolved to neglect, though she could

no longer disown him.

It

to

was

to

no purpose that he frequently solicited her

admit him

to see

her; she avoided him with the

most vigilant precaution, and ordered him

to

be ex-

cluded from her house, by whomsoever he might be

introduced, and what reason soever he might give for
entering

it.

Savage was

the

at

same time

so touched with the

discovery of his real mother, that

it

was

his frequent

practice to walk in the dark evenings* for several hours

re

come

her door

in

hopes of seeing her as she might

by accident to the window, or cross her apartment

with a candle in her band.

But
e fleet,

all

his assiduity

for he

and tenderness were

without

could neither soften her heart nor open

her hand, and was reduced

to the

utmost miseries of

want, while he was endeavouring to awaken the affeclie was therefore obliged to seek
tion of a mother.

some other means of support; and having no

sion, became by necessity ah author.
\t this

time the attention of

See

th<

all

profes-

the literary world

ik,

SAVAGE.

261

was engrossed by the Bangorian controversy, which

filled

the press with pamphlets, and the coffee-houses

Of

with disputants.

made choice

for

his

this subject, as

most popular, he
any

attempt, and without

first

other knowledge of the question than he had casually

collected from conversation, published a

poem

against

the bishop.*

What was

the success or merit of this performance,

was probably lost among the innumerable

pamphlets to which that dispute gave occasion. Mr.
Savage was himself in a little time ashamed of it, and
I

know not,

it

endeavoured

suppress

to

it

by destroying

all

the copies

that he could collect.

He
and

then attempted a moi^eeainful kind of writi:ig,f

in his

eighteenth year offered to the stage a

comedy

borrowed from a Spanish plot which was refused by

the players, and was therefore given by him to Mr.
Bullock, who, having more interest, made some slight
alterations,
title

of

and brought

upon the stage, under the

it

Woman's a Riddle,\ but allowed

author no part of the

the

unhappy

profit.

Not discouraged however

two years afterwards Love

at Jris

repulse, he wrote

another comedy,
borrowed likewise from the Spanish, but with little
better success than before

and acted, yet

it

in

for

appeared so

Veil,

though

it

was received

late in the year, that the

author obtained no other advantage from

acquaintance of

whom

sir

it,

than the

Richard Steele and Mr. Wilks, by

he was pitied, caressed, and relieved.

Sir Richard Steele, having declared in his favour

with

all

the ardour of benevolence

which constituted

* It was called " The Battle of the Pamphlets."

K.
f Jacob's Lives of the dramatic poets. Dr. J.
* This play was printed first in 8vo
and afterwards
;

the fifth edition.

Dr. J,

t 2

in

12mo

SAVAGE.

his character,

promoted

interest with the

his

zeal, related his misfortunes,

all

the opportunities of

applauded

utmost

his merit,

recommending him, and

took

assert-

ed, that H the inhumanity of his mother, had given

man

a right to find every good

Nor was Mr. Savage admitted

only, but to his confidence, of

him

his father."*

acquaintance

his

to

which he sometimes

re-

lated an instance too extraordinary to be omitted, as

it

affords a very just idea of his patron's character.

He was

once desired by Sir Richard, with an

air

of

the utmost importance, to

come very early to his house

Mr. Savage came as he had pro-

the next morning.

mised, found the chariot at the door, and Sir Richard

waiting for him, and ready to go out.
What was intended, and whither they

were

to go,

Savage could not con-

jecture, and was not willing to inquire

Ru

ately seated himself with Sii

was ordered
most

to drive,

expedition

stopped

to

but immedi-

The coachman

hard.

and they hurried with the ut-

Hyde-Park comer, where they

and retired

at a petty tavern,

Sir Richard then informed

to a private

room.

him, that he intended to

puLlish a pamphlet, \ d that

he had desired him to

come thither ihat he might write for him. They soou

down to the work. Sir Richard dictated, and Sav
--.it

age wrote,

upon the
ot the

the dinner that had been ordered

till

table.

Savage was supprised

eatertainmenti and after some

red to ask for

some wine, which

was put

meanness

hesitation ventu-

Sir Richard, not with-

out reluctance, ordtrcd to be brought.

ished their dinner, and

proceeded

which they conduced

the afternoon.

in

at the

They

in their

then

fin-

pamphlet,

Mr. Savage then imagined his task was over, and

expected that S:ir Hi' hard would call for the reckoning,
and return boBl

ul

is

xi eeiations

Plain Dealer.

Dr.

decieved him,.

SAVAGE.

263

Richard told him that he was without money,

and that the pamphlet must be sold before the dinner
could be paid for ; and Savage was therefore obliged
ibr Sir

new production for sale for two

some difficulty he obtained. Sir
Richard then returned home, having retired that day
only to avoid his creditors, and composed the pamphlet
to

go and

offer their

guineas, which with

only to discharge his reckoning.

Mr. Savage
which, though

related another fact equally

has no relation to his

uncommon,

ought to
be preserved. Sir Richard Steele having one day invited
to his house a great number of persons of the first
it

were surprised
which surrounded the table
wine and mirth had set them
quality, they

of rigid ceremony, one of

ard,

at
:

of liveries

free

from the obvervation

train of

Sir Rich-

domestics could

Sir Richard very frankwere fellows of whom he would

his fortune.

that they

ly confessed,

number

and after dinner, when

them inquired of

how such an expensive

be consistent with

the

life,

very willingly be rid: and being then asked

not discharge them,

why he

they were

declared that

did

bailiffs

who had introduced themselves with an execution, and

whom, since he could not send them away, he had
thought

it

convenient to

embellish with liveries, that

they might do him credit while they

staid.

His friends where diverted with the expedient, and by

paying

the

debt discharged their attendance, having

obliged Sir Richard to promise that they should never

him graced with a retinue of the same kind.

Under such a tutor Mr. Savage was not likely to
learn prudence or frugality and perhaps many of the
again find

misfortunes which the want of those virtues brought

upon him
justly

in

imputed

the following parts

to so

of his

life,

unimproving an example,

might be

SAVAGE

264

Nor

the kindness of Sir Richard end in

did

He

favours.
settled
alliance

on

ter,

proposed

scheme

for

life,

to

and

6ome

in

have contracted a kind of

to

with him, by marrying

whom

common

have established him

him

to a natural

daugh-

he intended to bestow a thousand pounds.

But, though he was always lavish of future bounties, he

conducted

his affairs in

seldom able
intentions

keep

to

such a manner, that he was very

his promises, or

he never was able

and, as

execute his own

sum

to raise the

which he had offered, the marriage was delayed. In the

mean time he was officiously informed, that Mr. Savage
had ridiculed him

is

not indeed

er

for his

easily

sometimes

incite

little

that

few

follies,

discovered,

him

to

his

which, as his
imagination

dis-

might

mention too ludicrously.

knowledge of the world is sufficient to discover

such weakness is very common, and that there are

who do

not sometimes, in the wantonness of thought-

less mirth, or the heat

though

tempt,

the

transient resentment, speak

in their cooler

their sense of their

virtue

of

and benefactors with levity and con-

of their freinds

fault

moments

Mr. Savage was rather

But sir Richard must like-

therefore of

wise be acquitted of severity, for

patiently bear contempt,
unci

they want nel-

kindness, nor reverence for theip

negligence than ingratitude.

ed

his

to the malice of a talebear-

many

patron had

cernment

to his house.

Savage might by

unlikely that

imprudence expose himself

exaspe-

which he had paid

him, and never afterwards admitted him

It

much

by which he was so

rated, that he withdrew the allowance

from one

who

is

there thai can

whom

he has reliev-

supported, for whose establishment he has

boured, and whose interest he has promoted

lie

was now again abandoned

other friend than Mr.

Wilks

to fortune without

a man,

la-

any

who whatever

SAVAGE.

be remembered

to
to

as an actor, deserves at least

his abilities or skill

were

be found in

265

which are not often

for his virtues^*

world, and perhaps less often in his

the,

profession

than in

and candid,

is

To

others.

humane, generous,

be

a very high degree of merit in any case,

but those qualities deserves

when
makes almost

greater praise,

still

they are found in that condition which

every other man, for whatever reason, contemptuous)

insolent, petulant, selfish,

and brutal.

As Mr. Wilks was one

of those to

seldom complained without

whom

calamity

he naturally took an

relief,

unfortunate wit into his protection, and not only assist*

As

when any good

a loss to mankind

it is

action is for-

gotten, I shall insert another instance of Mr. Wilks's genero-

very little known. Mr. Smith, a gentleman educated at

Dublin, being hindered by an impediment in his pronouncia-

sity,

tion,

from engaging

him,

left his

own

in orders, for

country, and

came

which
to

ployment, but found his solicitations

sities

designed

his friends

London

quest of em-

in

fruitless,

and his neces-

every day more pressing. In this distress he wrote a

gedy, and offered

Thus were

it

to

the players, by

whom

it

tra-

was rejected.

hopes defeated, and he had no other prosBut Mr. Wilks

performance, though not perfect, at least worthy

his last

pect than of the most deplorable poverty.

thought his
of

some reward, and therefore offered him a

benefit.

This

fa-

vour he improved with so much diligence, that the housa|afforded him a considerable sum, with which he went to Leyden, applied himself to the study of physic, and prosecuted his

design with so much diligence and success, that, when Dr*

Boerhaave was desired by the Czarina to recommend proper
persons to introduce into Russia the practice and study of physic,

Dr. Smith was one of those

considerable pension

One of the chief physicians

letter

from Dr. Smith

whom

on him

settled

Dr.

at

the Russian court.

in

Russia to Mr. Wilks

ghetWQod's History of the Stage.- R.

He hd

he selected.
at his arrival,

is

and was

J.

printed

lit

SAY At.

266

ed him

any casual distresses, but continued an equal

in

and steady kindness

By

i.

to the

his interposition

time of his death.

Mr. Savage once obtained from

mother* fifty pounds, and a promise of one hundred

fifty more
but it was the fate of this unhappy man,
that few promises of any advantage to him were performed. His mother was infected, among others, with
the general madness of the South Sea traffic ; and, ha-

his

and

ving been disappointed

in

her expectations, refused to

pay what perhaps nothing but the prospect of sudden

af-

fluence prompted her to promise.

Being thus obliged to depend upon the friendship of

Mr. Wilks, he was consequently an assiduous frequenter of the theatre
and in a short time the amusements
;

of the stage took such possessions of his mind, that he-

nevcr was absent from

a play in several years.

This constant attendance naturally procured him the

acquaintance of the players, and
Oldfield,

who was

so

much

among

Mrs.

and touched with his misfortunes, that she allowed

tion,

him

a settled

during her

That

pension of

pounds a year, which was

fifty

regularly paid.

life

may

this act of generosity

receive

and that the good actions of Mrs. Oldfield

lied

others, of

pleased with his conversa-

by her general character,

Mr. Savage

it

is

proper

its

may
to

due

praise,

not be sul-

mention what

often declared, in the strongest terms, that

he never saw her alone, or

in

any other place than behind

the scenes.

the

credit of
I write upon tinwhich was published in 17-7 ami was

" This," says Dr. Johnson, "

author of his

life,

a small pamphlet, intended to

while

under the

James

Sinclair,

at

Price 6s. Robertt."

plead his cause with the public

sentence of death for the murder of Mr.

Robinson's coffee hoctse at Charing -Cross.

<

SAVAGE.

At her death he endeavoured

in

267
to

shew

his gratitude

the most decent manner, by wearing mourning as

for a

mother but did not celebrate her

;

in

elegies,* be-

cause he knew that too great a profusion of praise would

only have revived those faults which his natural equity
did not allow

mitted by one

him to think less, because they were comwho favoured him but of which, though
:

would not endeavour to palliate them, his

gratitude would not suffer him to prolong the memory

his virtue

or diffuse the censure.

In his Wanderer he has indeed taken an opportunity

of mentioning her

but celebrates her not for her virtue,

but her beauty, an excellence which none ever denied

her; this is the only encomium with which he has re-

warded her liberality, and perhaps he has even in this

been too lavish of his praise. He seems to have
thought, that never to mention his benefactress would
have an appearance of ingratitude, though to have dededicated any particular performance to her memory

would only have betrayed an

officious

partiality, that,

without exalting her character would have depressed

his

own.

He

had sometimes, by the kindness of Mr. Wilks,

the advantage of a benefit, on which occasions he often

uncommon marks of regard and compassion ;

and was once told by the duke of Dorset, that it was

received

just to consider
in

him

as an injured nobleman,

his opinion the nobility

ought

to

think

and that

themselves

obliged, without solicitation, to take every opportunity

him by their countenance and patronage.

But he had generally the mortification to hear that the

of supporting

* Chetwood, however, has printed a poem on her death,

which he ascribes to Mr. Savage. See History of the Stage,

p. 260.

R.

SAVAGE

268

whole
his

mother was employed

interest of his

she never

applications, and that

to frustrate

any expedient

left

untried by which he might he put off from the possibility

of supporting

deavoured

The same disposition she enamong all those over whom nature

life.

to diffuse

or fortune gave her any influence, and indeed succeed-

ed too well

her design

in

but could not always propa-

gate her effrontery with her cruelty

whom

for,

some of

those.

she incited against him, were ashamed of their

own conduct, and

boasted of that relief which they ne-

ver gave him.

In this censure
his

relations;

humanity of one
recollect, and to

do not indiscriminately involve

lady,

whose name

whom therefore

which she deserves

for

tion to influence, precept

am now

having acted well

its

justice ever

who

only to
his

inflict

life

been contested

destroy a child in

be severe enough

for

inflict

well

her

who

its

opposi-

make him

upon those
known, nor

but, if they deserve

what pains can

birth,

forbears to destroy him

sharper miseries upon him

only to

in

and example.

The punishment which our laws

who murder their infants is

death

unable to

cannot pay the praises

parents

has

all

he has mentioned with gratitude the

for

miserable

who prolongs
who exposes

and

him, without care and without, pity, to the nv.dice of

oppression, the caprices of chance, and the temptations
of poverty

calamities

who

rejoices to see

him overwhelmed with

and when his own industry or the charity

of others has enabled him to rise for a short time above

his miseries,

tress

plunges him again into

his

former

dis-

The
constant

kindness of his friends not affording

supply, and the

him any

prospect of improving his

fortune bv enlarging his acquaintance necessarily lead-

SAVAGE.

mg

him

to places of

expense, he found

endeavour once more

was now better

269

at

it

necessary* to

dramatic poetry, for which he

qualified by a

ledge, and longer observation.

more extensive knowBut having been un-

succesful in comedy, though rather for want of opportunities than genius, he resolved

he should not be more

The

story

now to

try

whether

fortunate in exhibiting a tragedy.

which he chose

of Sir

Thomas Overbury,

stage,

though perhaps not

for the

was

subject,

a story well adapted to

that

the

enough removed from

far

the present age to admit properly the fictions necessary

complete the plan

to

loves truth,

is

the mind, which naturally

for

always most offended with the violations

we

of those truths of which

are most certain

and we

of course conceive those facts most certain, which ap-

proach nearest

Out

to

our own time.

of this story he formed a tragedy, which,

circumstances

in

afford at once an

which he wrote

uncommon

it

if

the

be considered, will

proof of strength of genius,

and evenness of mind, of a serenity not to be ruffled,

and an imagination not to be suppressed.

During a considerable
was employed upon

this

part of the time in

which he

performance, he was without

lodging, and often without meat

nor had he any other

conveniencies for study than the fields or the streets al-

lowed him
es,

there he used to walk and form his speech-

and afterwards step

into a shop,

beg

for a

few mo-

ments the use of the pen and ink, and write* down what
he had composed, upon paper which he had picked up
by accident.
If the performance of a writer thus distressed
perfect, its faults

ought surely

to

In 1724.

Vol.

II.

is

not

be imputed to a cause

>\\

U70

\i.;.

very different from want of genius, and must rathei

exite pity than provoke censure.

But when under these discouragements the tragedy

was finished, there yet remained the labour of introducing

it

on the stage, an undertaking, which,

genious mind, was

disgusting

for,

was obliged

to

to

an

in-

very high degree vexatious and

in a

having

little

interest or reputation,

submit himself wholly

he

to the players,

and admit, with whatever reluctance, the emendations

of

Mr. Gibber, which he always considered

as the

dis-

grace of his performance.

He had

indeed

different clsss,

assistance on

Mr.

in

Hill another critic of a very

from whose friendship he received great

many

occasions, and

whom

he never men-

tioned but with the utmost tenderness and regard.

He

some time distinguished by him with very

particular kindness, and on this occasion he was natural
to apply to him as an author of an established charac-

had been

ter.

He

for

therefore sent this tragedy to him, with a short

copy of verses,*

in which he desired his correction.

Mr. Hill, whose humanity and politeness arc generallyknown, readily complied with his request but as he is
;

remarkable
periments
play

in

language, Mr. Savage did not think his

much improved

that time the

by his innovation, and had even

to reject several passages

courage

he could not approve

Mr.

and, what

is still

more

at

which

laudable,

Hill lwl the generosity not to resent the neglect of

his alterations, but wrote

in

and bold ex-

for singularity of sentiment,

the prologue and

epilogue,

which he touches on the circumstances of the author

with great tenderness.

After

all

these obstructions and compliance^, he

not able to bring his play

upon the stage

Printed in the late collection of

in

wu

the sun.-

SAVAGE.

mer when
were

the chief actors had retired, and the rest

in the possession of the

Among

tage.

271

house for their own. advan-

the part of sir

Mr. Savage was admitted to play

Thomas Overbury,* by which he gained
these,

no great reputation, the theatre being a province

which nature seems not

to

have designed him

ther his voice, look, nor gesture,

pected on the stage

having been reduced

were such

and he was so
to

appear

as

for

for nei-

were ex-

much ashamed

as a player, that

he

of
al-

ways blotted out his name from the list, when a copy of
his tragedy was to be shewn to his friends.
In the publication of his performance he was more
successful for the ray of genius that glimmered in it,
that glimmered through all the mists which poverty
and Gibber had been able to spread over it, procured
him the notice and esteem of many persons eminent for
;

their rank, their virtue,

Of this
mulated
thought

and their wit.

play, acted, printed, and dedicated, the accu-

hundred pounds, which he

profits arose to a

time a very large sum, having been

at that

never master of so

much

before.

In the dedication,! for which he received ten guineas

there

is

nothing remarkable.

very liberal

encomium on

The

preface contains a

the blooming excellency of

Mr. Theophilus Gibber, which Mr. Savage could

in the latter part of his life see his friends

without snatching the play out of their hands.

generosity of Mr. Hill did not end on this occasion
afterwards,

when Mr. Savage's

encouraged a subscription

not

about to read

The
;

necessities returned,

to a miscellany cf

for

he

poems

in
a very extraordinary manner, by'publishing his story in

was acted only three nig-hts, the first on June 12, 1723.
opened -for the winter season it was once
more performed for the anthor's benfit, Oct. 2. R.
It

When
f

the house was

To Herbert

Tryst, Esq. of Herefordshire.

Dr. J.

272

9X\ lge.

The Plain Dealer, with some

which b<

affecting lines,

asserts to have been written by

Mr. Savage upon the

treatment, received by him from his mother, but of

which he was himself the author, as Mr. SavaSc afterwards declared. These lines, and the paper* in which

they were inserted, had a very powerful effect upon

but

his

all

mother, whom, by making her cruelty more

public, they only hardened in her aversion.

Mr.

Hill not only

promoted the subscription

to

the

miscellany, but furnished likewise the greatest part of

poems of which it is composed, and particularly

The Ha/i/iy Man, which he published as a specimen.

the

The

subscriptions of those

whom

influence to patronise merit

in

these papers should

other solicitation, were directed to be

coffee house

without any

distress,
left

at

Button's

and Mr. Savage going thither a few days

afterwards, without expectation of any effect from his

proposal, found to his surprise seventy guineas, t which

had been sent

to

him

in

consequence of the compassion

excited by Mr. Hill's pathetic representation.

To

this miscellany

he wrote a preface,

in

which he

gives an account of his mother's cruelly in a very un* The Plain Dealer was a periodical paper, written by

Mr

Mid Mr

Bond, whom Savage called the two conten

powers of light and darkness. They wrote by turns each six
character of the work was observed regularly to

Hill,

rise in

relief)

to

Mr.

Mill's

The names

week, ami

of those

Mr. Bond's.

Dr. J.

so generously contributed to his

having been mentioned in u former account, ought not

be omitted here.

lady

fall in

who

Cheynev, lady

They were
(.'astlcmain,

the
lad)

duchess of Cleveland,

Gower, lady J.cchmerc,

dm Ins-, Dowager and dutchesa of Rutland, lady Strafford

eouateM Dowager of Warn ick, Mrs. Man Flower, Mra, Sofa*
el Noel, duke of Rutland, lord Gainsborough, lord Mishngton,
Mr. John Savage. Dr. J.

the

the

SAVAGE.

27S

common
nation,

strain of humour, and with a gaiety of imagiwhich the success of his subscription probably

produced.

The

dedication

Montagu,

ley

is

he

flatters

confess the truth, with very

servation

Mary Wort-

addressed to the lady

whom

may be extended

without reserve, and, to

little

to all

The same

art.*

his dedications

obhis

compliments are constrained and violent, heaped together

without the grace of order, or the decency of introduction

he seems

to

have written his panegyrics for the

perusnl only of his patrons, and to imagine that he had

no other task than

pamper them with

would make

to

ever gross, and that

flattery

praises

how-

way

to the

its

heart, without the assistance of elegance or invention.

Soon afterward, the death of the king furnished a

general subject for a poetical contest, in which Mr.

allowed to have carried the

Savage engaged, and

prize of honour from

his

competitors

whether he gained by

his

peforniance any other advan-

is

but

tage than the increase of his reputatipn

know

though

it

not

must

* This the following extract from it will prove

Since our country has been honoured with the glory of
your wit, as elevated and immortal as your soul, it no longer
remains a doubt whether your sex have a strength of mind in
proportion to their sweetness. There is something in your
1

"

verses as distinguished as your

air.

They

are

as

strong as

and as smooth
as beauty.
They contain a nameless and peculiar mixture of
force and grace, which is at once so movingly serene, and so
majestically lovely, that it is too amiable to appear any where but

deep

truth, as

as reason, as clear as innocence,

in

your eyes and in your writings.

" As fortune is not more my enemy than

flattery, I

know

not

ladyship, because

say

more than

lence."

how

their

I believe,

is

am

the

enemy of

can forbear this application to your

scarce a possibility that

when

Dr. J.

z 2

should

am speaking of your excel*

SAVAGE.

274

certainly have been with further views that he prevail-

ed upon himself to attempt a speciesof wiiting, of which

the topics had been long before exhausted, and which

all

was made
failed in

it,

at

once

difficult

by the multitudes that had

and those that had succeeded.

He was now

advancing

in reputation,

and though

fre-

quently involved in very distressful perplexities, ap-

peared however
of which

it is

be gaining upon mankind, when

to

both his fame and

his life

were endangered by an event,

it ought to be

not yet determined whether

mentioned as a crime or a calamity.

On

the 20th of

November,

1727,

Mr. Savage came

from Richmond, where he then lodged, that he might

pursue
tent

to

his studies with

Westminster

Gregory, he went
fee-house, and sat

in-

of the

in

whose names were Merchant and

with them to a neighbouring cofdrinking till it was late, it being in no
in

time of Mr. Savage's

first

with an

and accidentally meeting two gentlemen,

his acquaintances,

the

less interruption,

discharge another lodging which he had

life

company

any part of his character to be

that desired to separate.

He

would willingly have gone to bed in the same house

but there was not room for the whole company, and
therefore they agreed to ramble about the streets, and
divert themselves with such amusements as should of;

fer

themselves

till

morning.

In this walk they

happened unluckily

light in Robinson's coffee-house

and therefore went

in.

to discover a

near Charing-cross,

Merchant with some rudeness

was told that there was a good

fire in the next parlour, which the company were about
Merchant,
to leave, being then paying their reckoning.
not satisfied with this answer, rushed into the room, and

demanded

a room, and

was fallowed by

his

companions.

He

then pctuUntly

placed himself between the company and the

fire,

and

SAVAGE.

275

down the

table.
This produced a
drawn on both sides, and one Mr.
was killed. Savage having wounded

soon after kicked

quarrel, swords were

James

Sinclair

maid that held him, forced his way with

Merchant out of the house but being intimidated and
likewise a

confused, without

were taken

some

in a

soldiers^

resolution

either to fly or stay, they

back court by one of the campany, and

whom

he had called to

his assistance.

Being secured and guarded that night, they were in

the morning carried before three justices, who committed them to the gatehouse, from whence, upon the
death of Mr. Sinclair, which happened the same day,
they were removed in the night to Newgate, where

however treated with some distinction, exempted from the ignomy of chains, and confined, not

they were

among

the

When
in

common

a very unusual

interest

criminals, but in the press-yard.

trial came, the court was crowded
manner? and the public appeared to

the day of

itself as

in

a cause of general concern.

The

Mr. Savage and his friends were, the

woman who kept the house, which was a house of ill
fame, and her maid, the men who were in the room
with Mr. Sinclair, and a woman of the town, who had
witnesses against

been drinking with them, and with

had been seen

in

bed.

whom

They swore

one of them

in general, that

Merchant gave the provocation, which Savage and

Gregory drew their swords to justify that Savage drew
first, and that he stabbed Sinclair when he was not in
a posture of defence, or while Gregory commanded
;

sword

he had given the thrust he turned

; and after
and would have retired, but that the maid clung
round him, and one of the company endeavoured to dehis

pale,

tain

him, from

whom

he broke by cutting the maid on

the head, but was afterwards taken in a court,

SAVAGE.

871

There was some

difference in their dispositions; one

did not sec Savage Live the wound, another saw

giv-

it

en when Sinclair held his point towards the ground';

and the woman of the town asserted, that she did not
see Sinclair's sword at

all
this difference however was
from amounting to inconsistency ; but it was
sufficient to shew, that the hurry of the dispute was
such, that it was not easy to discover the truth with re-

very

far

and that therefore

to particular circumstances,

lation

some deductions were

to

be made from the credibility

of the testimonies.
Sinclair had declared several times before his death,
that

age

he received
at his

extenuate
tion,

trial
it,

his

wound from Savage

deny the

malice

by urging the suddenness of the whole ac-

and partly

of self defence, and the

lost

that

nor did Sav-

but endeavoured partly to

and the impossibility of any

itated

had

fact,

ill

design, or premed-

to justify

by the necessity

it

hazard of his

own

he

life, if

opportunity of given the thrust

he ob-

man

to

wait for the blow which was threatened, and, which

if

served, that neither reason nor law

he should suffer
that

it,

obliged a

he might never be able

to return

was always allowable to prevent an assault, and

life by taking away that of the adversary by

it

to preserve

whom

it

was endangered.

With regard

to the violence

with which he endea-

voured to escape, he declared, that

sign to

fly

from justice, or decline a

was not

it

the expenses and severities of a prison

his de-

but to avoid

trial,

and that he

in-

tended to have appeared at the bar without compulsion.

This defence, which took up more than an hour, was

heard by the multitude that thronged the court with

the most attentive and respectful silence

those

who

thought he ought not to be acquitted, owned that ap-

SAVAGE.

him and those who before

now reverenced his abilities.

plause could not be refused

pitied his misfortunes,

The

witnesses

proved

277
:

which appeared against him were

be persons of characters which did not en-

to

a common strumpet, a wotitle them to much credit

man by whom strumpets were entertained, and a man
;

whom

by

they were supported

and the character of

Savage was by several persons of

to

distinction asserted

be that of a modest inoffensive man, not inclined

or to insolence, and

broils

only

known

Had

his

who had

for his misfortues

and

to that time

to

been

his wit.

audience been his judges, he had undoubt-

edly been acquitted

who was

but Mr. Page,

then upon

the bench, treated him with his usual insolence and severity,

and when he had

summed up

deavoured to exasperate the jury

to relate

it,

as

the evidence, en-

Mr. Savage used

with this eloquent harangue

" Gentlemen of the jury, you are to consider that

Mr. Savage is a very great man, a much greater man
than

you or

gentlemen of the jury

that he wears
you or I, gentlemen of the jury that he has abundance of money
in his pocket, much more money than you or I, gentlemen of the jury; but, gentlemen of the jury, is it not
a very hard case, gentlemen of the jury, that Mr. Savage should therefore kill you or me, gentlemen of

very

I,

fine clothes,

much

finer clothes than

the jury ?"

Mr. Savage, hearing

ed, and the

against
serted,

gan to

him

his defence thus misrepresent-

men who were

to decide his fate incited

by invidious comparisons, resolutely

as-

was not candidly explained, and berecapitulate what he had before said with re-

that his case

gard to his condition, and the necessity of endeavour-

ing to escape the expens.es of imprisonment

judge having ordered him

to

be

silent,

but the

and repeated his

$8

W.U.E.

commanded

orders without effect,

should be

that he

bar by force.

The

then heard the opinion of the judge, that

jury

were

characters

weight against positive

of no

evidence, though they might turn the scale where

was doubtful

and that though, when two

other, the death of

tat h

where one

but

tiiem, and,

is

either

the

it

attack

only man-slaughter;

is

as in the case bcfoic

r,

pursuance of

in

men

his first

afack,

kills

the

however sudden, to
be malicious.
They then deliberated upon their veraid determined dMt Mr. Savage and Mr. Gregory were guilty of murder; a:.d Mr. Merchant, who had
law supposes the action,

other, tie

no sword,

of man-slaughter.

(inly

Thus ended this memorable trial, which lasted eight

hours.
Mr. Savage and Mr. Gregory were conducted
back to prison, where they were more closely confined,
and loaded with irons of

fifty

pounds weight

four days

afterwards they were sent back to the court to receive

sentence; on which occasion Mr. Savage made, as

as

could be retained

it
41

It

is

now,

my

in

memory,

lord, too

way of defence or

vindication

your

this court,

lordships, in

late
;

far

the following speech

to offer

any thing by

nor can we expeu

from

but the Bentl ncc which

the laws require you, as judges, to pronounce against

men

of our calamitous condition.

suaded, that as

But we arc

mere men, and out

also per-

of this seat of rigor-

ous justice, you are susceptive of the tender passion^,

and too humane not to commiserate the unhappy shuaof (hose,

lioii

from

acts

tinguish

ex-

the law sometimes perhaps

pronounce upon.

you
between offences whirl)
to

No

doubt you

arise out of pre

dis-

medi-

and a disposition habituated to vice or imnioraliand transgressions, which arc the unhappy and nn- of casual absence of reason, and sudden

tation,
i\

whom

SAVAGE.
of passion

ini pulse

tribute all

you can

we

therefore hope you will con-

an extension of that mercy, which

to

the gentlemen of the jury have been pleased to

Mr. Merchant, who (allowing

facts as

by the evidence) has led us into

hope

this

will not

279

'

this

be construed as

if

shew

sworn against us
our calamity.

we meant

to re-

remove any thing from

more at our fate,
because he has no participation of it No, my lord
for my part, I declare nothing could more soften my
grief, than to be without any companion in so great a
flect

upon

that gentleman, or

us upon him, or that

we

repine the

misfortune."*

Mr. Savage had now no hopes of life, but from the

mercy of the crown, which was very earnestly solicited
by

friends,

his

story

may

and which, with whatever

obtain belief,

difficulty the

was obstructed only by

his

mother.

To

prejudice the queen against him, she

made use

of an incident, which was omitted in the order of time,

might be mentioned together with the purpose

was made to serve. Mr. Savage, when he had
discovered his birth, had an incessant desire to speak

that

it

Avhich

to

it

his

refused

who always avoided him in public, and

him admission into her house. One evening

mother,

walking, as

it

was

his

custom, in the street that she

in-

saw the door of her house by accident open

he entered it, and, finding no person in the passage to
habited, he

hinder him, went up

stairs to salute her.

She discover-

ed him before he could enter her chamber, alarmed the

family with the most distressful outcries, and,

when she

had by her screams gathered them about her, ordered

them to drive out of the house that villain, who had
forced himself in upon her, and endeavoured to mur*Mr, Savage's

life.

SAVAGE.
Savage,

dcr her.

who had attempted

with the most sub-

missive tenderness to soften her rage, bearing her utter

so detestable an accusation, thought
tire

and,

prudent

it

to

re-

believe, never attempted afterwards to speak

to her.

But, shocked us he was with her falshood and her

cruelty, he imagined that she intended no other use of

her

lie,

than to set herself free

and was very

solicitations,

would treasure

in

it

her

from

embraces and

his

from suspecting that she

far

memory

as

an instrument of

future wickedness, or that she would endeavour

fictitious assault to

deprive him of his

But when the queen was

for this

life.

solicited for his

pardon, and

informed of the severe treatment which he

had suffer-

ed from his judge, she answered, that, however unjus-

might be the manner of his trial, or whatever

which he was condemned

tifiable

extenuation the action for

man

might admit, she could not think that

who had been

object of the king's mercy,

a proper

capable of en-

tering his mother's house in the night, with an intent to

murder her.
By whom

calumny had been

this attrocious

mitted to the queen

whether she

that

the front to relate it; Whether she found any one

enough
her

in

to credit

it,

had been taken

the truth of

it,

or corrupt

design

her hateful
to

who

Thus had Savage

not

to
:

had

weak

concur with
but methods

persuade the queen so strongly of

that she for

any one of those

enough

know

trans-

invented

a long

time refused to hear

petitioned for his

life.

perished by the evidence of a bawd,

not justice and comhim an advocate of rank too great to

a strumpet, and his mother, had

passion procured

be rejected unheard, and of virtue too eminent

head without being believed.

tics

happened

lis

merit and

to

be

his calami-

to reach the car of the countess of

Hert-

SAVAGE.
ford,

who engaged

ness that

is

in his

281

support with

excited by pity, and

kindled by generosity

all

the tender-

the zeal which

is

demanding an audience of

and,

all

the queen, laid before her the whole series of his

mother's cruelty, exposed the improbability of an accusation by which he was charged with an interest to

commit a murder

that could

soon convinced her

how

produce no advantage, and

former conduct could

little his

deserve to be mentioned as a reason for extraordinary

severity.

The interposition of this lady was so successful, that

he was soon after admitted to bail, and, on the 9th of
March, 1728, pleaded the king's pardon.
It is natural to inquire upon what motives his mother
could persecute him in a manner so outrageous and
implacable for what reason she could employ all the
;

arts'

of malice, and

away the

of her

all

the snares of calumny, to take

own

son, of a son who never injured her, who was never supported by her expense, nor
obstructed any prospect of pleasure or advantage why
life

she would endeavour to destroy him by a lie a lie

which could not gain credit, but must vanish of itself
at the first moment of examination, and of which only
this can be said to make it probable, that it may be observed from her conduct, that the most execrable crimes
are sometimes committed without apparent temptation.

This mother
yet,

is still alive,* and may perhaps even

though her malice was so often defeated, enjoy the

pleasure of reflecting, that the

deavoured

to destroy,

was

at

life

which she often enby her

least shortened

maternal offices

she couid not transport

; that though
her son to the plantations, bury him in the shop of
a
* She died, Oct. 11, 1753, at her. house in Old Bond
StreetR.

aged above fourscore.

Vol.

II.

Aa

282

>V\AC.l.

mechanic, or hasten the hand of the public executioner,

she has yet had the satisfaction of embittering all his
hours, and forcing

him

into exigences that

hurried on

his death.
It is

by no means necessary to aggravate the enor-

mity of this woman's conduct, by placing

tion to that of the countess of Hertford

to observe
to oppress,

how much more amiable

it is

it

in

opposi-

no one can

fail

to relieve, than

and to rescue innocence from destruction,

than to destroy without an injury.

Mr. Savage, during

his

imprisonment, his

and

trial,

the time in which he lay under sentence of death, be-

haved with great firmness and equality of mind, and

confirmed by his fortitude the esteem of those who

The

before admired him for his abilities.*

peculiar cir-

were made more generally known

by a short account^ which was then published, and of
which several thousands were in a few weeks dispersed
cumstances of

his life

over the nation

and the compassion of mankind ope-

rated so powerfully in his favour, that he

was enabled,

by frequent presents, not only to support himself, but

to assist
It

Mr. Gregory

in prison

and,

when he was

appears that during his confinement

to his mother, W liich

lie

lie

par-

wrote a letter

sent to Thcophilus Cibbei, that

it

might be transmitted to her through the means of Mr. Wilks.

" As to death, I am easy, and
In his letter to Cibber he says

dare meet

my

it

friends,

like a

man all

express the agony

felt

me is the concern of
my mother I cannot

that touches

and a reconcilement with

when

wrote the letter to her

can find any decent excuse for shewing

it

if

to Mrs. Oldfield,

you
do
;

would have all my friends (and that admirable lady in

particular) be satisfied I have done my duty towards it l)r
Young to day sent me a letter, most passionately kind." H.
by Mr. lleckingham, and mother gentleman
f Written

for

Dr.

J.

savage.

283

doned and released, he found the number of

his friends

not lessened.

The
was

nature of the act for which he had been tried

in itself doubtful

of the evidences which appear-

man was not unwoman notoriously infamous

ed against him, the character of the

exceptionable, that of the
she,

whose testimony

demn him,

chiefly influenced the jury to con-

afterwards retracted her assertions.

He

always himself denied that he was drunk, as had been

criminal than

favoured him
that he
all

who

now (in 1744)

him far less
he was imagined, even by some who

generally reported. Mr. Gregory,

collector of Antigua,

is

is

said to declare

and Page himself afterwards confessed,

had treated him with uncommon rigour.

When

these particulars are rated together, perhaps the

memory of Savage may not be much sullied by his trial.

Some time after he obtained his liberty, he met in
the street the woman who had sworn with so much maShe informed him,

him.

lignity against
in distress, and,

that she

was

with a degree of confidence not easily

attainable, desired

him

to relieve her.

He, instead of

insulting her misery, and taking pleasure in the cala-

mities of one who had brought his

proved her gently for her perjury
only guinea that he had, divided

it

life
;

into danger,

re-

and changing the

equally between her

and himself.

This

made

is

an action which in

some ages would have

a saint, and perhaps in others a hero, and which,

without any hyperbolical encomiums, must be allowed

to

be an instance of

complicated virtue

uncommon

poor, corrected the vicious, and

by which he

at

generosity, an act of

by which he

at

once relieved the

forgave an

enemy

once remitted the strongest provocations,

and exercised the most ardent charity.

SAVAGE
Compassion was indeed the distinguishing quality ot
he never appeared inclined to take advantage

Savage

weakness,

oi

ihc

to attack the defenceless, or to press

whoever was

falling:

was

upon

certain

at

and when he could give no

extricate them from misfortunes, he en-

good wishes

least of his

distressed,

assistance to

them by sympathy and tenderness.

was not softened by the sight of
misery, lie was sometimes obstinate in his resentment,
and did not quickly lose the remembrance of an injury,
deavoured

to sooih

But when

his heart

lie always continued to

speak with anger of the inso-

lence and partiality ot Page, and a short time before his

death revenged
It is

by a

it

satire.*

Mr. Savage
was over,

natural to inquire in what terms

spoke of

this

when

fatal action,

the danger

and he was under no necessity of using

conduct in the
dwell upon

it

fairest

and

if

light.

He was

art to set his

not willing to

he transiently mentioned

it,

ap-

peared neither to consider himself as a murderer, nor

man wholly free from the guilt of blood. t How

much and how long lie regretted it, appeared in a poem

as a

which he published many years afterwards. On occasion of a copy of verses, in which the failings of good
men were recounted. ?i d in which the author had endeavoured to illustrate his position, that " the best may
sometimes deviate from virtue," by an instance of murder committed by Savage in the heat of wine, Savage

was no very just representation of a

remarked,

that

good man,

to suppose,

disposed

it

him

liable

to

drunkenness, and

in his riots to cut throats.

He was now

indeed

at

liberty, but

was, as before,

without any other support than accidental favours and

* Printed in the late collection.
I

in

one of

known."

Dr.

his letters
J.

he

styles

it

" a fatal quarrel, but too veil

285

SAVAGE.

him

uncertain patronage afforded

sources by which

very liberally supplied,

he was sometimes
at other times were suddenly stopped

and which

so that he spent

between want and plenty or, what was yet

between beggary and extravagance for, as
whatever he received was the gift of chance, which
might as well favour him at one time as another, he
was tempted to squander what he had, because he alhis life

worse,

ways hoped to be immediately supplied.

Another cause of his profusion was the absurd kindness of his friends, who at once rewarded and enjoyed
his abilities,

by treating him

at taverns,

and habituating

him to pleasures which he could not afford to enjoy,

and which he was not able to deny himself, though he
purchased the luxury of a single night by the anguish
of cold and hunger for a week.

The
him

to

experience of these inconveniences determined

endeavour after some settled income, which,

having long found submission and intrealies

he attempted
methods.

to extort

He

had now,

as

fruitless,

mother by rougher
he acknowledged, host that

from

his

tenderness for her, which the whole series of her cruelty

had not been able wholly

by the efforts which she

to repress,

made

till

he found,

for his destruction, that

she was not content with refusing to assist him, and

being neutral

ready

fortunes

my

in

to snatch
;

his struggles

and that she was to be considered as an ene-

implacably malicious,

could

with poverty, but was

every opportunity of adding to his mis-

satisfy.

He

whom

nothing but his blood

therefore threatened to harass her

with lampoons, and to publish a copious narrative of

her conduct, unless she consented to purchase an ex-

emption from infamy by allowing* him a pension.

This expedient proved successtul.
still

Whether shame

survived, though virtue was extinct, or whether

a 3

SAVAGE.

286

her relations had more delicacy than herself, and imagined that some of the darts which satire might point

would glance upon them

at her

lord Tyrconnel, what-

ever were his motives, upon his promise to lay aside

his design of

exposing the cruelty of

ceived him into his family, treated

and engaged

him

allow

to

his

him

mother, reas his equal,

pension of two hundred

pounds a year.
This was the golden part of Mr. Savage's life and
for some time he had no reason to complain of fortune ;
;

his

appearance was splendid,

his

acquaintance extensive.

expenses large, and

his

He

was courted by

all

who endeavoured to be thought men of genius, and

caressed by all who valued themselves upon a refined

To admire Mr.

taste.

ment

and

to

title

His presence was sufficient

poetical reputation.

make

Savage, was a proof of discern-

be acquainted with him, was a

to

to

any place of public entertainment popular; and

his approbation

So powei

ful is

and example constituted the fashion.

genius,

ter of affluence!

when

Men

it

is

invested with the glit-

willingly pay to fortune

that

regard winch they owe to merit, and are pleased when

they have an opportunity at once of gratifying their vanity,

and practising their duty.

This interval of prosperity furnished him with opportunities of enlarging his knowledge of human nature,
by contemplating
lowest

etry, he
for, as

life

from

its

highest gradations to

its

and, had he afterwards applie<l to dramatic po-

would perhaps, not have had many superiors;

he never suffered any scene to pass before his

eyes without notice, he had treasured in his mind

all

the different combinations of passions, and the innumerable mixtures of vice and virtue, which

one character from another

was strong,

Ids expressions

distinguish

and, as his conception

were

clear, he

easily re-

SAVAGE.
from

eeived impressions

them

transmitted

Of his

28f

and very forcibly

objects,

to others.

exact observations on

human

life

he has

left

which would do honour to the greatest names,

in a small pamphlet called The Author to be let,* where
he introduces Iscariot Hackney, a prostitute scribbler,
proof,

giving an account of his birth, his education, his disposition

and morals, habits of

life

In the introduction are related

-the

and maxims of conduct

many

secret histories of

petty writers of that time, but sometimes

with ungenerous reflections

cumstances or those of their

denied, that

mixed

on their birth, their

relations

some passages are such

nor can

as Iscariot

cir-

be

it

Hack-

ney might himself have produced.

He was accused likewise of living in an appearance
of friendship with some whom he satirised, and of making use of the confidence which he gained by a seeming kindness, to discover failings and expose

them

it

Mr. Savage's esteem was no

very certain possession, and that he would lampoon at

must be confessed,
onetime those
It

may

that

whom

he had praised at another.

his principles

and that he

commended may be
justice

man may change

who was once deservedly

be alleged, that the same

or, that the

afterwards satirised with

ance of virtue, and found the

brated,

equal

poet was dazzled with the appear-

man whom he had

when he had an opportunity

more narrowly, unworthy

of examining

cele-

him

of the panegyric which he

had too hastily bestowed and that, as a false satire

ought to be recanted, for the sake of him whose reputation may be injured, false praise ought likewise to be
obviated, lest the distinction between vice and virtue
;

should be

lost, le&t

a bad

man

should be trusted upoa

* Printed in his Works, vol.

II.

p. 231.,

aq

wage.

the credit of his encomiast, or lest others should ento obtain the like praises by the same means.
But though these excuses may be often plausible,
and sometimes just, they are very seldom satisfactory
to mankind
and the writer who is not constant to his

deavour

subject, quickly sinks into contempt, his satire loses

force, and his panegyric

sidered at one

time as a

its

value

flatterer,

and he

is

its

only con-

and as a calumniator

at another.

To

avoid these imputations,

it

is

only necessary to

follow the rules of virtue, and to preserve an unvaried

For though it is undoubtedly possible

man, however cautious, may be sometimes deceived by an artful appearance of virtue, or by false

regard to truth.
that a

evidences of guilt, such errors will not be frequent

and

it

will

be allowed, that the

name

of an author would

never have been made contemptible, bad no

said

man

ever

what he did not think, or misled others but when

he was himself deceived.

The Author to be let was

first

published

pamphlet, and afterwards inserted

in

in

a single

a collection of

pieces relating to the Dunciad, which were addressed

by Mr. Savage to the carl of Middlesex,

in

a dedica-

was prevailed upon to sign, though he

did no', write it, and in which there are some positions,
that the true author would perhaps not have published
under his own name, and on which Mr. Savage aftertion* wliich he

wards

refle. ted

tion of the

with no great satisfaction: the enumera-

bad effects of the uncontrolled freedom of

the assertion that the liberties taken by

the press, and

the writers of journals with" their superiors, were exorbitant and

unjustifiable," very

ill

became men, who

have themselves not always shewn the exactest regard

to the laws of subordination in their writings, and

See

liis

works,

vol.

D. p. 233.

wlw

SAVAGB.
have often

satirised those that

289

at

selves their superiors, as they

thought them-

least

were eminent

for their

hereditary rank and employed in the highest offices of

he

kingdom. But

this is only an instance of that

parti-

which almost every man indulges with regard to

ality

himself: the liberty of the press

is

a blessing

when we
when

are inclined to write against others, and a calamity

we

overborne by the multitude of our

find ourselves

assailants

power of the crown

as the

too great by those

little

by those

in

who

suffer by

whose favour

its
it

always thought

is

influence, and too

exerted

is

and a

army is generally accounted necessary by

those who command, and dangerous and oppressive by
those who support it.
Mr. Savage was likewise very far from believing that
standing

the letters annexed to each species of bad poets in the

to assert, " set down at
when he was charged by one of his friends
with putting his name to such an improbability, he had
;"
no other answer to make than a he did not think of it

Bathos were, as he was directed

random

;" for

and his friend had too

next

to

the

crime

much

of

tenderness to reply, that

writing

contrary to what

he

thought, was that of writing without thinking.

After having remarked what

tion,

it is

proper that

is

in

false

this

dedica.

observe the impartiality which

recommend, by declaring what Savage

asserted that the

account of the circumstances which attended the publication of the

ble,

Dunciad, however strange and improba-

was exactly

The

true.

publication of this piece at this time raised

Mr-

Savage a great number of enemies -among those thai

were attacked by Mr. Pope, with whom he was considered as a kind of confederate, and

whom

he was

suspected of supplying with private intelligence

and

SA*

290
secret
was*

incidents

added

so that the

ignomy of an informer

to the terror of a satirist.

That he was
crisy,

and

altogether free ficm literary hypo-

not

he sometimes spoke one thing and

that

wrote another, cannot be denied

confessed, mat,

when

lie

because he himself

lived in great familiarity with

Dennis, he wrote an epigram* against him.

Mr. Savage, however, set all the malice of all the

pigmy writers at defiance, and thought the friendship of
Mr. Pope cheaply purchased by being exposed to their
censure and their hatred

nor had he any reason to re-

pent of the preference, for he found Mr. Pope a steady

and unalienable friend almost to the end of his

About

life.

notwithstanding his avowed neutra-

with rjgard to party, be published a panegyric on

lity

sir

this tine,

Robert Walpole,

with twenty guineas

for
;

which he was rewarded by him

sum

not very large, if either the

excellence of the performance, or the affluence of tue

patron, be considered

but greater than he afterwards

obtained from a person of

yet higher rank, and

more

desirous in appearance of being distinguished as a patrfon

of literature.

As he was very
sir

far

Robert Walpole, and

from approving the conduct of

in conversation mentioned him

sometimes with acrimony, and generally with contempt; as he was one of those who were always zealous in their assertions of the justice of the late opposi* This epigram

arts, I believe, never published.

" Should Dennis publish you had stabb'd your brother,

L.ampoon'd your monarch, or debauch'd your mother

.

what revenue on Dennis can be had,

Too dull for laughter, for reply too mad

On one so poor you cannot tike the law,
On one so old your sword you scorn to draw.
'

L'ncap'd then, let the harmless monster rage,

Secure

in

dulncss, madness, want, and age."

Dr. J

SAVAGE.
tion,

291

jealous of the rights of the people, and alarmed by

the

long continued triumph of the court

ral

to ask.

it

was natu-

him what could induce him to employ his

praise of that man who was, in his opinion, an

poetry

in

enemy

to liberty, and an oppressor of his country

He

was then dependant upon the lord Tyrconnel, who was an inplicit follower of the ministry

alleged, that he

and
to

that,

being enjoined by him, not without menaces,

write in praise of

sufficient to sacrifice

his leader,

he had not resolution

the pleasure of affluence to that

of integrity.

On
to

and on many other occasions, he was ready

this,

lament the misery of living

men, which was

of his

life

at

the tables of other

from the beginning to the end

know not whether he ever had, for

his fate

for I

three months together, a settled habitation, in which he

could claim a right of residence.

To

this

unhappy

state

it

just to

is

the inconstancy of his conduct

impute much of

though a readiness
to comply with the inclination of others was no part of
his natural character, yet he was some times obliged to
for

relax his obstinacy, and submit his

own judgment, and

even his virtue, to the government of those by

he was supported

so that,

if his

times the consequences of his

to

be wholly excluded fro>n

faults

were very often the

In this gay period*

whom

miseries were some-

faults,

he ought not yet

compassion, because his

effects of his misfortunes.

of his

life,

while he was sur-

rounded by affluence and pleasure, he published The

Wanderer, a moral poem, of which the design is comprised in these lines
I fly

To

all

public care,

try the

still,

all

venal

strife,

compar'd with active

*

1729.

life

SAVAGE,

292

To

prove, by these, the sons of

men may o\\ i

wo

Tlie fruits of bliss to bursting clouds of

That cv'n calamity by thought refin'd,

Inspirits and adorns the thinking mind.

And more
By

distinctly in the following

(i,

passage

the soul to daring action swells;

By wo, in plaintless patience it excels

Prom patience, prudent clear experience spring's,
And traces know lege through the course of things!
Thence hope is fonn'd, thence fortitude, success,
lienown

us

whate'er men covet and caress.

This performance was always considered by himself

his master-piece ; and Mr. Pope, when he was ask-

ed his opinion of

it,

told

him

and was not displeased with

pleasure

more
It

the

at

the second

that he read
it;

that

it

it

once over,

gave him more

him

still

The Wanderer,

that

perusal, and delighted

at the third.

has been generally objected

of the parts

disposition

sign

is

to

irregular

is

obscure, and the plan perplexed

that the de-

that the ima-

succeed each other without

and that the whole performance is not so much

ges,

however

order:

beautiful,

a regular fabric, as a heap of sinning materials thrown

together

solemn

by accident, which

strikes

rather with

tie

magnificence of a stupendous ruin, than the

elegant grandeur of a finished pile.

The

criticism

able

to believe

Mr.

Savage

thought

his

it

is

universal, and therefore

at

least in

was always of
drift

a gicat
i

it

is

reason-

degree just

but

contrary opinion, and

could only be missed by negligence

or stupidity, and that the whole plan was regular, and

the parts distinct.
It

was never denied

tations of nature,

to

abound with strong represen-

and just observations upon

life

and

SAVAGE.

may

it

easily

be obseiwed, that most of his pictures

have an evident tendency to

position, that

292

good

illustrate

his first great

the consequence of evil."

is

The

sun that burns up the mountains fructifies the vales ;

the deluge that rushes down the broken rocks with
dreadful impetuosity, is separated into purling brooks
and the rage of the hurricane purifies the air.

Even in this poem he has not been able to forbear

one touch upon the cruelty of his mother, which though,
remarkably delicate and tender, is a proof how deep an
impression

it had upon his mind.

This must be at least acknowledged, which ought
be thought equivalent to many other excellences,

to

that this

poem can promote no

of virtue, and that

other purposes than those

written with a very strong sense

it is

of the efficacy of religion.

But

my

province

is

rather to give the history of

Mr.

Savage's performances than to display their beauties,

or to obviate the criticisms which they have occasion-

ed ; and therefore I shall not dwell upon the particular

passages which deserve applause ; I shall neither shew
fhe excellence of his descriptions, nor expatiate on
the terrific portrait of suicide, nor point out the artful

touches by which he has distinguished the intellectual

features of the rebels
to.

It is,

who

suffer death in his last can-

however proper Ho observe,

that

Mr. Savage

always declared the characters wholly fictitious, and

without the least allusion to any real persons or actions.

From

poem

fully finished,

it

so diligently laboured, and so successmight be reasonbly expected that he

should have gained considerable advantage ; nor can it

without some degree of indignation and concern be
told, that he sold the copy for ten guineas, of which
he afterwards returned two, that the two last sheets of
the work might be reprinted, of -which he had in his

Vol.

II.

'*

2H

SAVAGL

absence intrusted the correction to a friend,

too indolent to perform

A superstitious regard

who

was-

with accuracy.

it

to the correction of his sheets

was one of Mr. Savage's peculiarities

he often alter-

ed, revised, recurred to his first reading or punctuation,

and again adopted the alteration

ous and irresolute without end, as on

last

importance, and at

intrusion or a

last

he was dubi-

a question of the

was seldom

commission of a

satisfied

comma was

the

sufficient to

discompose him, and he would lament an error of a

single letter as a heavy calamity.

relating to an impression of

In one of his letters

some

rerses, he

remarks

that he had, with regard to the correction of the proof

" a spell

which he
ties

upon him ;" and indeed the anxiety with

upon the minutest and most trifling nice-

felt

deserved no other

name

than that of fascination.

That he sold so valuable a performance for so small

a price, was not to be imputed either to necessity, by
which the learned and ingenious are often obliged to
submit to very hard conditions or to avarice, by which
;

the booksellers are frquently incited to oppress that

genius by which they are supported

temperate desire of pleasure, and

his passions,

He

of some

ney

which involved him

happened

at that

in

but to that in-

iiabitual slavery to

many

lime to be engaged

trifling gratification, and,

first

pursuit

being without mo-

for the present occasion, sold his

bidder, and perhaps for the

perplexities.

in the

poem

to the

posed, and would probably have been content with

if less

first

price that was proless,

had been offered him.

This poem was addressed

only in the

first lines,

but

to the lord

in a

Tyrconnel, not

formal dedication

filled

with the highest strains of panegyric, and the warmest

professions of gratitude, but by no means remarkable
for delicacy of

connexion or elegance of style.

SAVAGE,
These praises

in a short

295

time he found himself

clined to retract, being discarded by the

he had bestowed them, and

rel,

whom

he then immediate-

have deserved them.

ly discovered not to

which every day made more

in-

man on whom

Of

bitter, lord

this

quar-

Tyrconnel

and Mr. Savage assigned very different reasons, which

might perhaps all in reality concur, though they were
Lord
not all convenient to be alleged by either party.

Tyrconnel affirmed, that

Mr. Savage,
proposed

it,

ny were willing

him

any company that

when the reckoning was demanded, to

if, as it often happened, his compa-

be without money

tory,

was the constant practice of

drink the most expensive wines with great

profusion, and

without any

it

to enter a tavern with

ill

to

defray his part, the affair ended

consequences

but

if

they were refrac-

and expected that the wine should be paid for by

that

drank

it,

his

method of composition was, to

own apartment, assume the

take them with him to his

government of the house, and order the Butler

imperious manner
fore his

to set the best

wine

company, who often drank

in an

in the cellar be-

till

they forgot the

respect due to the house in which they were entertained, indulged themselves in the utmost extravagance of
merriment, practised the most licentious frolics, and
committed all the outrages of drunkenness.

Nor was

charge which lord Tyrconnel

Having given him a collection of
valuable books, stamped with his own arms, he had the
mortification to see them in a short time exposed to sale
upon the stalls, it being usual with Mr. Savage, when
he wanted a small sum, to take his books to the pawnthis the oniy

brought against him.

broker.

Whoever was

acquainted with Mr. Savage easily

credited both these accusations

ged, from his

first

for having

been

obli-

entrance into the world, to subsist

SAVAGE.

296

upon expedients, affluence was not able to exalt Mm

and so much was he delighted with wine
and conversation, and so long had he been accustomed
to live by chance, that he would at any time go to the
above them

tavern, without scruple, and trust for the reckoning to

the liberality of his company, and frequently of

pany

to

whom

he was very

little

known.

com-

This conduct

indeed very seldom drew upon him those inconveniences that might be feared by any other person

for

his

conversation was so entertaining, and his address so

pleasing, that few thought the pleasure

which they re-

ceived from him dearly purchased, by paying for his

wine.

It

was

his

peculiar happiness, that he scarcely

ever found a stranger,

whom

he did not leave a friend

must likewise be added, that he had not often a

friend long, without obliging him to become a stran-

but

it

ger.

Mr. Savage, on the other hand, declared,

that lord

would not
own luxury and extravagance what

L'yrconnel* quarrelled with him, because he

subtract from his

he had promised to allow him, and that his resentment

was only a plea

for the violation of his promise.

He

ought to exclude him from that subsistance which he thought not

so much a favour as a debt, since it was offered him

asserted that he had done nothing that

upon conditions which he had never broken

his only fault was, that

and that

he could not be supported with

nothing.

He

acknowledged, that lord Tyrconnel often exhorted him to regulate his method of life, and not to spend
all his nights in taverns, and that he appeared very de-

His expression in one of his letters

Mud

had involved hk

estate,

oceasion to quarrel with him,"

Will,

"that lord Tyr

and therefore poorly sought BR

Dr.

J.

SAVAGE.

297

would pass those hours with him, which

This demand Mr.
Savage considered as a censure of his conduct, which he
could never patiently bear, and which, in the latter and
sirous that he

he so freely bestowed upon others.

cooler parts of his

declared

it

life,

was so offensive to him, that he

" to spurn that friend who

as his resolution,

should presume to dictate to him ;" and

it is

not likely

that in his earlier years he received admonitions with

more calmness.
He was likewise
tions

inclined to resent such expecta-

which he

as tending to infringe his liberty, of

was very

jealous,

when

it

was necessary

to the gratifi

cation of his passions and declared, that the request

was still more unreasonable, as the company to which
he was to have been confined was insupportably disagreeable.
This assertion affords another instance of
;

with his conversa-

that inconsistency of his writings

tion,

which was

so often to be observed.

He

forgot

how

The Wanderer, extolled the delicacy and penetration, the humanity and
generosity, the candour and politeness of the man,
lavishly he had in his dedication to

whom, when he no longer

loved him, he declared to be

a wretch without understanding, without good-nature,

and without justice j of whose name he thought himself

obliged to leaves no trace in any future edition of his

writings

and accordingly blotted

it

out of that copy of

The Wanderer which was in his hands.

During his continuance with the lord Tyrconnel, he
wrote The Triumph of Health and Mirth,on the recovery
of lady Tyrconnel from a languishing illness. This perremarkable, not only for the gaiety of the
ideas, and the melody of the numbers, but for the
agreeable fietion upon which it is formed. Mirth, over-

formance

is

whelmed

with sorrow for the sickness of her favourite,

whom she

takes a flight in quest of her sister Health,

Bb2

SAVAGE.

:98

upon the brow of

finds reclined

lofty

mountain,

amidst the fragrance of perpetual spring, with the

breezes of the morning sporting about her. Being solicited

by her

sister

away

assistance, flies

Mirth, she readily promises her

and impregnates the

in a cloud,

waters of Bath with new virtues, by which the sickness

of Belinda

As

is

relieved.

the reputation of his abilities, the particular cir-

cumstances of

his birth

and

life,

the splendour

of his

appearance, and the distinction which was for some

time paid him by lord Tyrconnel, entitled him to

miliarity with

fa-

persons of higher rank than those to

whose conversation he had been before admitted he

did not fail to gratify that curiosity which induced him
;

to take a nearer

whom

view of those

their birth, their

employments, or their fortunes, necessarily place at the

distance from the greatest part of mankind, and to exa-

mine whether
by the

their merit

was magnified Or diminished

medium through which

it

was contemplated

whether the splendour with which they dazzled

admirers was inherent

in

themselves, or only reflected

on them by the objects that surrounded them

whether great men were selected

high stations made great men.

For

this

their

purpose he took

versing familiarly with those

for

and

high stations, or

opportunities of con-

all

who were most

conspic-

uous at that time for their power or their influence ;

he watched their looser moments, and examined their
domestic behaviour,

v\ith that

had given hi m, and which the

life

had contributed

acuteness which nature

uncommon

to increase,

which must always be produced

by an absolute freedom from
engagements.

all

variety of his

and that inquisitiveness

in a vigorous

mind,

pressing or domestic

299

SAVAGE.

His discernment was quick, and therefore he soon

found in every person, and in every affair, something
that deserved attention ; he was supported by others
without any care for himself, and was therefore at

lei-

sure to pursue his observations.

More

circumstances to constitute a

could not easily concur

life

who assumed from

critic

human

on

nor indeed could any man,

accidental advantages

more

praise

than he could justly claim from his real merit, admit

any acquaintance more dangerous than that of Savage

of

whom

likewise

above the

really exalted

from

must be confessed,

it

common

level, or virtue refined

passion, or proof against corruption,

easily find an abler judge, or a

that abilities

warmer

could not

advocate.

What was the result of Mr. Savage's inquiry, though

he was not much accustomed to conceal his discoveries,
it may not be entirely safe to relate, because the persons whose characters he criticised are powerful

power and resentment

it

perhaps be wholly

are seldom strangers

just,

and

nor would

because what he asserted in

might, though

ttwys in general, be heightened by some momentary ardour of imagination, and,

conversation

as

it

can be delivered only from memory,

perfectly represented

so that

may be im-

the picture, at

gravated, and then unskilfully copied,

first

may be

ag-

justly

suspected to retain no great resemblance of the original.

It

may, however, be observed, that he did not appear

formed very elevated ideas of those to whom

to have

the administration of affairs,

has been intrusted

or the conduct of parties,

who have been

considered as the

advocates of the crown, or the guardians of the people

and

who have

and the loudest applause.

who

has been

esteemed, and

obtained the most implicit confidence,

at

at

Of

one particular person,

one time so popular as to be generally

another so formidable as to be univer-

SAVAGK

300

he observed, that his acquisitions had

detested,

sally

been small, Or that his capacity was narrow, and that

the whole range of his mind was from obscenity to politics,

and from

politics to obscenity.

But the opportunity of indulging his speculations on

He was banished
great characters was now at an end.
the table of lord Tyrconnel, and turned again

from

upon the world, without prospect of finding

As prudence was not one
of the virtues by which he was distinguished, he had
made no provision against a misfortune like this. And
though it is not to be imagined but that the separation
must for some time have been preceded by coldness,
peevishness, or neglect, though it was undoubtedly the
adrift

quickly any other harbour.

consequence of accumulated provocation on both sides

that knew Savage will readily believe,
;

yet every one

that

him

to

it

was sudden asja stroke of thunder;

that

though he might have transiently suspected it, he had

never suffered any thought so unpleasing to sink into
his

mind; but

that

he had driven

ments, or dreams of future

felicity

away by amuse-

it

and affluence, and

had never taken any i..*;asures by which he might prevent a precipitation from plenty to indigence.

This quarrel and separation, and the difficulties to

which Mr. Savage was exposed by them, were soon
known both to his friends and enemies nor was it long
;

before

much

he perceived, from the behaviour of both, how

is

added

to the lustre of genius by the

ornaments

of wealth.

His condition did not appear to excite much comfor he had not always been careful to use the
;

passion

advantages he

enjoyed with

that

moderation which

ought to have been with more than usual caution preserved by him, who knew, if he had reflected, that he

was only a dependant on the bounty of another,

whom

SAVAGE.
he could expect

SQ1

him no longer than he en-

to support

deavoured to preserve his favour by complying with his

and

inclinations,

and was

whom

he nevertheless

set at

defiance,

by negligence

continually irritating

or en-

croachments.

Examples need

not be sought at any great

distance

to pi-ove, that superiority of fortune has a natural ten-

dency

to kindle

pride,

and that pride, seldom

exert itself in contempt and insult

and

fails

if this is

to

often

the effect of hereditary wealth, and of honours enjoyed

only by the merit of others,

is

it

some extenuation of

unhappy man may

was heightened
by the force of novelty, and made more intoxicating by
a sense of the misery in which he had so long languished, and perhaps of the insults which he had formerly
borne, and which he might now think himself entitled
any indecent triumphs to which
have been betrayed, that

to revenge.

It is too

this

his prosperity

common

justly suffered pain, to inflict

for those
it

who have un-

likewise in their turn

with the same injustice, and to imagine that they have

a right to treat others as they have themselves been
treated".

That Mr. Savage was too much elevated by any good

known and some passages of his
introduction to The author to be let sufficiently shew
that he did not wholly refrain from such satire as he
afterwards thought very unjust when he was exposed
to it himself; for, when he was afterwards ridiculed in
the character of a distressed poet, he very easily discovered, that distress was not a proper subject for merriment, nor topic of invective. He was then able to discern that if misery be the effect of virtue, it ought to
fortune, is generally

be reverenced
vice, not to

if

of ill-fortune, to be pitied

be insulted, because

it

is

and

perhaps

punishment adequate to the crime by which

it

if

of

itself a

was pro

SAVAGE.

And the humanity of that man can

who is capable of reproaching a

duced.

panegyric,

deserve no
criminal in

the hands of the executioner.

But these
to

him

afraid, for a

though they readily occurred

reflections,

in the

first

and

parts of his

last

long time forgotten

life,

were,

am

they were, like

at least

treasured up in his mind rather

shew than use, and operated very little upon his
conduct, however elegantly he might sometimes explain, or however forcibly he might inculcate them.
His degradation, therefore, from the condition which
he had enjoyed with such wanton thoughtlessness, wa&
Those
considered by many as an occasion of triumph.

many other maxims,

for

who had
cess, soon

fered

him without

before paid their court to

suc-

returned the contempt which they had suf-

and they

who had

received favours from him, for

of such favours as he could bestow he was very

liberal,

So much more

certain

did not always

remember them.

are the effects of resentment than of gratitude

not only to
faults

many more

pleasing

recollect

to

it

is

those

which place others below them, than those

vir-

tues by which they arc themselves comparatively de-

pressed

but

it

more easy

likewise

is

to neglect, than

and though there are few who wilr

practise a laborious virtue, there will never be wanting

to

recompense

multitudes that will indulge

Savage, however,

in

easy vice.

was very

marks of contempt which

little

disturbed at the

Ins ill-fortune

brought upon

whom

he never esteemed, and with

himself as levelled by any
considered
never
whom he
and though it was not without some uncalamities
him,

from those

easiness

that

he

ued, change their

coldness

without

saw some, whose friendship he valyet he observed their

behaviour

much

emotion, considered them as

the slaves of fortune, and the

wprshippeM of prospcri

SAVAGE.

SOS

and was more inclined to despise them, than to

ty,

ment
It

does not appear

that, after this

return of his wants,

he found mankind equally favourable to him as

His tory, though
first appearance in the world.
ality
it

at

his

in re-

not less melancholy, was less affecting, because

was no longer new

new

la-

himself.

friends

it

him no

therefore procured

and those that had formerly relieved him,

thought they might now consign him to others. He

was now likewise considered by many rather a3 criminal, than as unhappy for the friends of lord Tyrconnel, and of his mother, were sufficiently industrious to
publish his weaknesses, which were indeed very numerous and nothing was forgotten, that might make
him either hateful or ridiculous.
;

It

cannot but be imagined, that such

representa-

must make great numbers less sendistress

many, who had only an opportu-

tions of his faults

sible of his
nity to

hear one part,

made no

account which they received

scruple to propagate the

many

culation from malice or revenge

pretended

to credit

assisted their

and perhaps

cir-

many

them, that they might with a better

grace withdraw their regard, or withhold their assistance.

Savage, however, was not one of those

who

suffered

himself to be, injured without resistance, nor was less

diligent in

over

drove him
for

exposing the

whom he

faults

of lord

Tyrconnel:

obtained at least this advantage, that he

first to

the practice of outrage and violence

much provoked by the wit and virulence

that he came with a number of attend-

he was so

of Savage,

ants, that did

no honour to his courage, to beat him

But it happened that he had left the

at a coffee-house.

place a few minutes

and his lordship had, without

danger, the pleasure of boasting

how he would have

treated him. Mr. Savage went next day

to

repay his

savage.

:hh

own house

his

visit at

but was prevailed on, by his

domestics, to retire without insisting upon seeing him.

Lord Tyrconnel was accused by Mr. Savage of

some actions, which scarcely any provocations will be
thought sufficient

had

to justify

in his lodgings,

such as seizing what he

and other instances of wanton cru-

by which he increased the distress of Savage,

elty,

without any advantage to himself.

These mutual accusation

many

sides for

lence and rage

than

diminish

rel

but

felt

it

on both

retorted

utmost degree of viruto augment

That the anger of

and time seemed rather

their resentment.

Mr. Savage should be kept

cause he

were

years, with the

alive, is

not strange, be-

every day the consequences of the

quar-

might reasonably have been hoped, that lord

Tyrconnel might have relented, and

at

length have for-

got those provocations, which, however they might have

once inflamed him, had not

The

spirit of

to solicit a reconciliation

proach, and

in reality

much

hurt him.

Mr. Savage indeed never suffered him

insult

for

he returned reproach for reinsult

his superiority of wit

supplied the disadvantages of his fortune, and enabled

him

to

form

a party, and prejudice great

numbers

in

his favour.

but though
vanity,

it

this

might be some

afforded very

little

gratification of his

relief to his necessities

and he was very frequently reduced to uncommon hardships, of which, however he never made any mean or
importunate complaints, being formed rather to bear

miseiy with fortitude, than enjoy prosperity with moderation.

He now

thought himself again

the cruelty of his

mother

about tins time, published

markable

at

liberty to

and therefore,

expose
beliere,

The Bastardy a poem

re-

lor the vivacious sallies of thought in the be-

SAVAGE.
ginning,

where he makes

305

pompous enumeration

the imaginary advantages of base birth

tic

unci

of

the pathe-

sentiments at the end, where he recounts the real

calamities

which he suffered by the crime of

his

pa-

rents.

The vigour and spirit of the verses, the peculiar circumstances of the author, the novelty of the subject,
and the notoriety of the story to which the allusions are
made, procured this performance a very favourable reception ; great numbers were immediately dispersed,
and editions were multiplied with unusual rapidity.
One circumstance attended the publication which
Savage used to relate with great satisfaction. His mother, to whom the poem was with " due reverence"
inscribed, happened then to be at Bath, where she
could not conveniently retire from censure, or conceal
herself from observation and no sooner did the repu;

poem

tation of the

repeated in

all

begin to spread, than she heard

places of concourse

it

nor could she enter

the assembly rooms, or cross the walks, without being

saluted with

some

lines

from The Bastard.

This was perhaps the first time that she ever discovered a sense of shame, and on this occasion the power
of wit was very conspicuous

the wretch

who had

without scruple proclaimed herself an adulteress, and

who

at

first

endeavoured

to starve

her son, then to

transport him, and afterwards to hang him, was not

able to bear the representation of her

but fled from reproach, though she

own conduct
no pain from

Bath with the utmost haste,

herself among the crowds of London.

guilt,

and

felt

left

to shelter

Thus Savage had the satisfaction of finding, that

though he could not reform his mother, he could punish her, and that he did not always suffer alone.
Vol.

II.

JATAGEj

306

The

pleasure which he received from this increase

of his poetical reputation, was sufficient fur some time

which

to overbalance the miseries of want,

formance did not much alleviate

this

per-

was sold for a

very trivial sum to a bookseller, who, though the success was so uncommon that five impressions were sold,
of which many were undoubtedly very numerous, had
;

not generosity sufficient to admit

to

any part of the

The

for

it

the

unhappy writer

profit.

sale of this

poem was always mentioned by

Sa-

vage with the utmost elevation of heart, and referred

to

by him as an incontestable proof of a general acknow-

ledgment of his abilities. It was indeed the only production of which he could justly boast a general reception.

But though he

did not loose

the opportunity which

success gave him of setting a high rate on his

abilities,

but paid due deference to the suffrages of mankind

when they were given

in his favour,

he did not suffer

his esteem of himself to depend upon others, nor found

voice of the people

any thing sacred

in the

were inclined

censure him

to

when they

he then readily shewed

the folly of expecting that the public should judge right,

observed how slowly poetical merit had often forced

way

into the

plause of
to

world

men

exclude

all

its

he contented himself with the ap-

of judgment, and was

somewhat disposed

those from the character of

men

of judg-

ment who did not applaud him.

But he was at other times more favourable to mankind than to think them blind to the beauties of his
works, and imputed the slowness of their sale to other
rauscs cither tiny were published at a time when the
town was empty, or when tl/c attention of the public
wai engrossed by some struggle in the parliament, or
some other object of general concern ; or they were by
;

SAVAGE.

307

the neglect of the publisher not diligently dispersed, or

by his avarice not advertised with sufficient frequency.

Address, or industry, or

and the blame was

was always wanting

liberality,

laid rather

on any person than the

author.

By

which every man practises in

arts like these, arts

some degree, and

which too much of the little tranbe ascribed, Savage was always able

to

quillity of life is to

peace with himself.

to live at

Had he indeed

use of these expedients to alleviate the

loss,

only

made

or want, of

fortune or reputation, or any other advantages which

is

it

not in man's power to bestow upon himself, they

might have been justly mentioned

as instances of a phy-

mind, and very properly proposed

losophical

imitation of multitudes, who, for

to

the

want of diverting their

imaginations with the same dexterity, languish under

which might be

afflictions
It

were doubtless

easily

wei*e universally prevalent

teemed according

removed.

to be wished, that truth

;

to its real value

and that

secure themselves from being disappointed

deavours after happiness, by placing

which

is

always to be obtained

but,

foreign pleasures must be pursued,

of

some

benefit, since that pursuit

fruitless, if the

that folly

and reason

that every thing

it

if

in their

en-

only in virtue,
adventitious and

would be perhaps

must frequently be

practice of Savage

might be an antidote

it

were es-

men would

could be taught,

to folly,

and one

fallacy-

be obviated by another.

But the danger of

be concealed
observed the
against

it.

this

life

of

Savage, need to be

By imputing none

he continued
follow the
sufferings,

pleasing intoxication must not

nor indeed can any one, after having

cautioned

of his miseries to himself,

to act upon the same principles, and to

same path was never made wiser by his
nor preserved by one misfortune from fall;

5AVAGE

J8

He proceeded

ing into another.

tread the

same

steps on the

plauding his past conduct, or

muise

circle

at least

with phantoms of

himself

were dancing before him

from the

throughout his

same

forgetting

it,

to

happiness, which

and willingly turned

when

life to

always ap-

his eyes

would have discovered

and shewn him, what he never wished to

tight of reason,

the illusion,

it

sec. his real state.

Me

is

even accused, after having lulled his imagina-

with those ideal opiates, of having tried the

tion

experiment upon

tomed himself

to

to foreign causes,

his conscience

impute
it

is

all

same

and, having accus-

deviations from the right

certain that he

was upon every

occasion too easily reconciled to himself ; and that he

appeared very

little to

regret those practices which had

impaired his reputation.

The

reigning error of his

life

was, that he mistook the love for the p'-actice of virtue,

and was indeed not so

much of a good man, as

the friend

of goodness.

This

at

least

must be allowed him,

that

he always

preserved a strong sense of the dignity, the beauty, and

the necessity of virtue ; and that he never contributed
deliberately to

His

actions,

spread corruption amongst mankind.

which were generally

ten blameablc

precipitate,

were

of-

but his writings, being the productions

of study, uniformly tended to the exaltation of the mind,

and the propagation of morality and piety.

These writings may improve mankind, when his failings shall be forgotten and therefore he must be con;

upon the whole, as a benefactor to the world ;

his
personal example do any hurt, since whonor can
his faults will hear of the miseries which
hcarsot
ever
sidered,

brought upon him and which would deserve less

had not his condtion been such as made his fault<
He may be considered as a child exposcr
lonable.

309

SAVAGE.
to all the temptations of indigence, at an

age when re-

solution was not yet strengthened by conviction, nor

virtue confirmed by habit

a circumstance which, in his

Bastard, he laments in a very affecting manner.

-No mother's care
Shielded

my

No father's

infant innocence with prayer

guardian hand

Call'd forth

my

virtues, or

The Bastard, however

my youth maintain'd,
from vice

restrain'd.

might provoke or mortify

to melt her to comunder the same want of

it

his mother, could not be expected

passion, so that he

the necessaries of

which

interest

was

life

still

and he therefore exerted

all

the

his wit, or his birth, or his misfortunes

could procure, to obtain, upon the death

of Eusden,

the place of poet Laureat, and prosecuted his application with so

clared

it

was the

much diligence,

his intention to

fate of

that the king publicly de-

bestow

it

upon him

but such

Savage, that even the king, when he

in-

tended his advantage, was disappointed in his schemes

for the lord chamberlain,
laurel, as

not

know

who

has the disposal of the

one of the appendages of

his office, either did

the king's design, or did not approve

it,

or

thought the nomination of the laureat an encroach-

ment upon

his rights,

and therefore bestowed the laurel

upon Colley Cibber.

Mr. Savage, thus disappointed, took

a resolution of

applying to the queen, that, having once given bin*

life,

she would enable him to support

published a short

gave the odd

title

poem on her

it,

and therefore

birth- day, to

of " Volunteer Laureat,"

which he

The

event

of this essay he has himself related in the following

letter, which he prefixed to the poem, when he afterwards reprinted it in " The Gentlemen's Magazine/

o c 2

SAVAGE.
whence I have copied it entire, as this was one of the
few attempts in which Mr. Savtge succeeded.
" Mr. Ukiian,
M In your Magazine for February you published the
last

'

Volunteer Laureat,' written on a very melancholy

occasion, the death of the royal patroness

of arts and

literature in general, and of the author of that

particular

now send you

wrote under that

the

first

that

poem

in

Mr. Savage

This gentleman, notwithstand-

title.

ing a very considerable interest, being, on the death of

Mr. F.usdeu, disappointed of the Laureat's place, wrote

the following verses

which were no sooner published

The

but the late queen sent to a bookseller for them.

author had not at that time a friend either to get him

introduced, or his

poem

presented at court

such

yet,

was the unspeakable goodness of that princess, that,

notwithstanding this act of ceremony was wanting, in a
few days after publication, Mr. Savage received a bankbill

of

fifty

pounds, and a gracious message from

her

majesty, by the lord North and Guilford, to this effect

That

Iter

majesty was highly pleased with the verses

that she took particularly kind his lines there

king

to the

that he

had permission to write annually

on the same subject

and that he should yearly re-

ceive the like present,

till

something better (which was

her majesty's intention) could be done for him,'

this

he was permitted

poems

relating

to her majesty,

to

After

present one of his annual

had the honour of kissing her

hand, and met with the most gracious reception,

" Yours, Sec."

Such was

the performance,* and such

a reception, which,

yet not in the highest degree generous

This pocpi

is

its

reception

though by no means unkind, was

:

to chain

inserted in the Utc collection

down

SAVAGE.
the

31 i

genius of a writer to an annual panegyric, shewed

queen too much desire of hearing her own

in the

praises,

and a greater regard to herself than to him on

her bounty was conferred.

generosity, by

which

whom

was a kind of avaricious

was rather purchased than

It

flattery

genius rewarded.

Mrs. Oldfield had formerly given him the same

lowance with

much more

heroic intention

al-

she had no

other view than to enable him to prosecute his studies,

and to set himself above the want of assistance, and

was contented with doing good without stipulating for
encomiums.

Mr. Savage, however, was not at liberty to make exwas ravished with the favours which he
had received, and probably yet more with those which
he was promised he considered himself now as a faceptions, but

vourite of the queen, and did not doubt but a few an-

nual

poems would

establish

him

in

some

profitable

employment.

He

title of " Volunteer Lausome reprehensions from Cibber,

therefore assumed the

not without

reat,"

who informed him, that the title

mark of honour conferred by the
honour

is

of " Laureat," was a

king, from

derived, and which therefore no

right to bestow

upon himself

whom
man

all

has a

and added, that he might

with equal propriety style himself a volunteer Lord, op

Volunteer Baronet.

mark was

just;

It

cannot be denied that the re-

but Savage did not think any

title,

which was conferred upon Mr. Cibber, so honourable

as that the usurpation of it could be imputed to him as
an instance of very exorbitant vanity, and therefore con*
tinned to write under the same title, and received every
year the same reward.

He
tests

encomiums as
more than annual

did not appear to consider these

of his

abilities,

or as any thing

SAVAGE.

312
hints to the

queen of her promise

or acts of ceremony,

by the performance of which he was entitled to his

pension ; and therefore did not labour them with great
diligence, or print more than fifty each year, except
that for some of the last years he regularly inserted
them in " The Gentleman's Magazine," by which they
were dispersed over the kingdom.
Of some of them he had himself so low an opinion
that he intended to omit them in the collection of poems,

which he printed proposals, and

for

tions

nor can

seem

it

solicited subscrip-

strange, that, being confined to

the same subject, he should he at some times indolent,

sometimes
was too late to perform
well
or that he should sometimes repeat the same
it
sentiment on the same occasion, or at others be misled

and

others unsuccessful

at

delay a disagreeable task

that he should

till it

by an attempt after novelty

to forced conceptions

and

far-fetched images.

He
plied

wrote indeed with a double intention, which sup-

him with some

variety

for his business was, to

queen for the favours which he had received,

complain to her of the delay of those which she

praise the

and to

had promised
tude

in

some

of his pieces, therefore, grati-

predominant, and

is

in

some

discontent

in

he represents himself as happy in her patronage

in others, as disconsolate to find

Her promise,
fortunate

like obher

and.

himself neglected.

promises

made

to this un-

man, was never performed, though he took

sufficient care that

lication

some
;

of

his

it

should not be forgo' ten.

other regard than a regular remittance of

He was

The pub-

" Volunteer Laureat" procured

fifty

him no
pounds.

not so dcpres.ed by his disappointments as

to neglect any opportunity that

his interest.

When

was offered of advancing

the princess

Anne was married, he

SAVAGE
wrote a

Si?

departure, " only," as he dewas expected from him," and he

bar his own prospects by any appear-

poem* upon her

clared, " because

was not willing

to

it

ance of neglect.

He

mentioned any advantage gained by

never

poem, or any regard

it

likely that

is

it

was paid

that

was considered

to
at

it

this

and therefore

court as an act of

duty, to which he was obliged by his dependance, and

which

new

it

was therefore not necessary

favour

advancement, and therefore thought

lavish

to

reward by any

or perhaps the queen really intended his

man whom

presents upon a

it

superfluous to

she intended to esta-

blish for life.

About

this

time not only his hopes were

in

danger of

being frustrated, but his pension likewise of being ob-

by an accidental calumny.
The writer of
a paper then published under
the direction of the ministry, charged him with a crime,
which though not very great in itself, would have been
remarkably invidious in him, and might very justly
have incensed the queen against him. He was accused
structed,

* The Daily Courant,"

by name of influencing elections against the court, by

appearing at the head of a tory mob nor did the accuser fail 4o aggravate his crime, by representing it as
the effect of the most atrocious ingratitude, and a kind
of rebellion against the queen, who had first preserved
;

him from an infamous death, and afterwards distinguished him by her favour, and supported him by her
charity.

The

charge, as

it

was open and confident, was

likewise by good fortune very particular.

The

place of

the transaction was mentioned, and the whole series of

This exactness made Mr.
the rioter's conduct related.

Savage's vindication easy

for

he never had

in his life

seen the place which was declared to be the scene of his

* Printed

in the late collection.

SAVAGE

ol4

wickedness, nor

when

its

ever had been present

made

therefore

haste to publish, with

stances necessary to
ably

in any town
This answer he

representatives were chosen.

make

it

credible

all

the circum-

and very reason-

demanded that the accusation should be

same paper, that he might no longer

in the

retracted
suffer the

imputation of sedition and ingratitude.

This demand
was likewise pressed by him in a private letter to the
author of the paper, who, eitV.er trusting to the protection of those whose defence he had undertaken, or hav-

ing entertained some personal malice against Mr. Salest, by retracting so confident an as-

vage, or fearing

sertion, he should

impair the credit of

his paper, refus-

him that satisfaction.

Mr. Savage therefore thought it necessary to his own
vindication, to prosecute him in the King's Bench but

ed

to give

as he did not find any

ill

effects

from the accusation,

having sufficiently cleared his innocence, he

any farther procedure

revenge

He

and therefore willingly dropped

saw soon afterwards

same court

thought

would have the appearance of

a process

it.

commenced

in

the

against himself, on an information in which

he was accused of writing and publishing an obscene

pamphlet.
It

was always Mr. Savage's desire

to

be distinguish-

when any controversy became popular, he

never wanted some reason for engaging in it with great
ed

and,

ardour, and appearing at the head of the party which

he had chosen.

As he was never

prudence, he had no sooner taken

celebrated for his

his side,

and inform-

ed himself of the chief topics of the dispute, then he

took all opportunities of asserting and propagating his
principles, without

much

regard to his

own

interest

or any other visible design but that of drawing upon

himself the attention of mankind.

SAVAGE.

The

315

dispute between the bishop of

chancellor

is

well

known

to

the chief topic of political

London and the

have been for sometime

conversation

and there-

Mr. Savage, in pursuance of his character, endeavoured to become conspicuous among the contro-

fore

with which every coffee-house was

vertists

on that

filled

He

was an indefatigable opposer of all the

claims of ecclesiasticl power, though he did not know
on what they were founded and was therefore no friend

occasion.

London. But he had another reason for

appearing as a warm advocate for Dr. Rundle ; for he

to the bishop of

was the
were the

friend of

friends of

Mr. Foster and Mr. Thomson, who

Mr. Savage.

Thus remote was

that

was not

it

sufficient to

him

so nearly,

harangue and dispute, but

necessary likewise to write upon

He

which,

his interest in the question,

however, as he imagined, concerned

therefore engaged with

it.

great ardour in a

new

poem, called by him, The Progress of a Divine ; in

which he conducts a profligate priest, by all the gradations of wickedness, from a poor curacy in the country
to the highest preferments of the church
and describes,
with that humour which was natural to him, and that
knowledge which was extended to all the diversities of
;

human

life,

his behaviour in every station

ates, Xhat this priest, thus

and insinu-

accomplished, found

at last

a patron in the bishop of London.

When

he was asked, by one of

his

on what

friends,

pretence he could charge the bishop with such an action

he had no more

verted the accusation

to say than that

;

able to believe, that he

a good

man

mote the

he had only

and that he thought

who had

it

in-

reason-

obstructed the rise of

without reasen, would for bad reasons pro-

exaltation of a villain.

v\\

316

The

..!

clergy were universally provoked by this satire

and Savage, who as was

his constant

practice,

had

set

name to his performance, was censured in" The

Weekly Miscellany"* with severity which he did not

his

seem inclined to forget.

But a return of invective was
punishment.

moved

The

against

not thought a sufficient

court of king's bench was therefore

him

and he was obliged to return an

answer to a charge of obscenity.

It

was urged

when

defence, that obscenity was criminal

tended

promote the practice of vice

to

Savage had only introduced obscene

it

in

was

his
in-

but that Mr.

with the

ideas,

view of exposing them to detestation, and of amending

the age by shewing the deformity of wickedness.

presided

in

then

that court, dismissed the information

with

and

Philip Yorke,

sir

encomiums upon

the purity and excellence of

vage's writings.

The

in

Mr. Sa-

prosecution, however, answered

some measure the purpose of those by whom it was

on foot for Mr. Savage was so far intimidated by

set

*
in

This

who

plea was admitted

A short satire was likewise published

which were the following lines

same paper,

in the

" For cruel murder doom'd to

hempen

Savage by royal grace prolong' d

Well might you think he spent

death,

his breath.

his future years

In prayer, and fasting, and repentant tears.

"

But, O vain hope the truly Savage

!"

" Priests, and their slavish doctrines,

Shall I
" Who, by free-thinking to free action

"In midnight brawls

a deathless

"

Now

"

No, arm'd with rhyme,

name

stoop to learn of ecclesiastic

* Though prudence bids

fir'd,

acquired,

men

at priests

me murder

cries,

despise.

I'll

take

my

aim.

but their fame"

Weekly

MlSClLLAITr.

SAVAGE.
it

that,

when

the edition of his

not venture to reprint

it

SU-

poem was

so that

it

was

forgotten, or forgotten by all but those

An

sold,

he did

in a short

whom

time

offended.

it

in " The Gentleman's Maunknown hand, from which the

answer was published

gazine," written by an

following lines are selected

" Transform'd by thoughtless rage, and midnight wine,
free, and push'd without design
In equal brawl if Savage lungM a thrust,
And brought the youth a victim to the dust

From malace

So strong the hand of accident appeal's,

The royal hand from guilt and vengeance
Instead of wasting

'

all

Savage, in prayer and vain repentant

Exert thy pen to

To

mend

clears.

thy future years,

tears,'

a vicious age,

curb the priest, and sink his high-church rage

To shew what frauds

the holy vestments hide,

The nests of av'rice, lust, and pedant pride

Then change the scene, let merit brightly shine,
And round the patriot twist the wreath divine
The heav'nly guide deliver down to fame
:

In well tun'd lays transmit a Foster's

Touch

name

ev'ry passion with harmonious art,

Exalt the genius, and correct the heart.

Thus future times shall royal grace extol

Thus polish'd lines thy present fame enrol.
But grant
j

Maliciously that Savage plung'dthe steel,

And made the youth

My soul

abhors the

shining vengeance feel

its

the

act,

But more the bigotry in

man

detests,

priestly breasts."

Gentleman's Magazine,
It is said that

II.

Dr.

J.

at least part of their effect

Vol.

1735.

some endeavours were used to incense

him but he found advocates to obviate

the queen against

advanced, he

May

still

;
for though he was never
continued to receive his pension.

SAVAGE.

318

This poem drew more infamy upon him that any in

life
and, as his conduct cannot be vindicated, it is proper to secure his memory from reproach
cident of his

by informing those

whom

he made

his

enemies, that he

never intended to repeat the provocation

and that,
though whenever he thought he had any reason to
complain of the clergy, he used to threaten them with
a

new

He

The Progress of a Divine,

edition of

calm and

settled resolution to suppress

once intended

to

have

made

it

was

it

his

for ever.

a better reparation

which he might be charged

by writing another poem called The Progress of a Freefor the folly or injustice with

thinker,

whom

of vice and

he intended

folly, to

from religion

ness, and

to lead

through

all

the stages

convert him from virtue to wickedto infidelity,

sophistry used for that purpose

by

and

all

the modish

dismiss

at last to

him by his own hand into the other world.

That he did not execute this design is a real
mankind for he was too well acquainted with
;

loss to
all

the

scenes of debauchery to have failed in his representations of

them, and too zealous

presented them

in

for virtue not to

have re-

such a manner as should expose

them either to ridicule or detestation.

But this plan was, like others, formed and

laid aside

was spent, and the

effervescence of invention had subsided but soon gave
way to some other design, which pleased by its novelty
till

the vigour of his imagination,

for a while,

He was
tain

and then was neglected like the former.

still in

his usual exigencies,

having no cer-

support but the pension allowed him by the queen

economist
it might have kept an exact
from want, was very far from being sufficient for Mr.
Savage, who had never been accustomed to dismiss any
of his appetites without the gratification which they

which, though

solicited,

and

whom

nothing but want of

money

with-

SAVAGE.

319

held from partaking- of every pleasure that

fell

within

his view.

His conduct with regard to his pension was very

No sooner had he changed the bill, than

particular.

he vanished from the sight of

all

acquaintance,

his

and lay for some time out of the reach of

At length he appeared

him.

the in-

all

make

curiosity could

quiries that friendship or

after

again, pennyless as before

but never informed even those

whom

regard most, where he had been

he seemed to

nor was his retreat

ever discovered.

This was

constant practice 'during the

his

whole

time that he received the pension from the queen.

He

regularly disappeared and returned. He, indeed, affirm-

ed that he retired

to

the money
many months but

study, and that

ported him in solitude

for

which

friends declared, that the short time in

spent sufficiently confuted his

own account

it

suphis

was

of his con-

duct.

His politeness and

who were

that indigence of

ed

his wit

desirous of setting

him

raised

still

him

at

friends,

length free from

which he had been hitherto oppresssir Robert Walpole in his

and therefore solicited

favour with so

much

earnestness, that they obtained a

promise of the next place that should become vacant,

not exceeding two hundred pounds a year.
This pro-

mise was made with an uncommon declaration, " that

it was not the promise of a minister to a petitioner
but of a friend to his friend.' 1

Mr. Savage now concluded himself

ever, and, as he observes in a

cident of his

life,

was

ill

at last

grounded, and

promise was not inviolable.

and

set at

He

ease for

written on that in-

trusted and was trusted

that his confidence

solicitations,

poem

but soon found

this

friendly

spent a long time in

despaired and desisted.

SAVAGE.

720

He

did not indeed deny that he had given

tne min-

some reason to believe that he should not strengthen his own interest by advancing him, for he had ta-

ister

ken care

himself in coffee-houses as an

to distinguish

advocate for the ministry of the

Anne, and was always ready

last

years of queen

to justify the conduct,

and

whom

he

exalt the character, of lord

Bolingbroke,

mentions with great regard

an Efii&tle upon Authors,

which

lie

in

wrote about that time, but was too wise to

some fragments have apMagazine" after his

publish, and of which only

peared, inserted by

him

the "

in

retirement.

To
vage

despair was not, however, the character of Sa;

when one patronage

The

another.

had very liberally

whom Mr.
this

he had recourse to

Savage did not think superior

and therefore he resolved

Tor

failed,

now extremely popular, and

rewarded the merit of some writers

prince was

to address a

to

poem

to

himself;

him.

purpose he made choice of a subj.ct which

could regard only persons of

the highest rank

and

greatest affluence, and which was therefore proper for

a

poem

intended to procure the patronage of a prince

and, having retired for

he might prosecute

some time
his

design

to
in

Richmond,
full

that

tranquillity,

without the temptations of pleasure, or the solicitations

meditations were in equal

of creditors, by which his

danger of being disconcerted, he produced a poem On

r
Public Spirit, with regard to Public 1l ork.s.
The plan of this poem is very extensive, and comprises a multitude of topics, each of

which might furnish

math r sufficient for a long performance, and of which

some have already cmploved more eminent writers;
but as

lie

was perhaps not

whole extent of
supply

his

<>f

own

fully acquainted

with the

design, and was writing to

wants too piessing

to

admit of long

SAVAGE.

321

or accurate inquiries, he passes negligently over

own

public works, which, even in his

to

many

opinion, deserved

be more elaborately treated.

But, though he may sometimes disappoint his reader

by transient touches upon these subjects, which have
often been considered, and therefore naturally raise
expectations, he must be allowed amply to compensate
his omissions, by expatiating, in the conclusion of his
work, upon a kind of beneficence not yet celebrated
by any eminent poet, though it now appears more sus-

ceptible of embellishments,
ideas,

more adapted

to exalt the

and affect the passions, than many of those which

have hitherto been thought most worthy of the orna-

ments of verse.

The

settlement of colonies in uninhasecurity

bited countries, the establishment of those in

whose misfortunes have made

longer pleasing or

their

own country no

safe, the acquisition of

property with-

out injury to any, the approbation of the waste and

luxuriant bounties of nature, and the enjoyment of those

gifts

which heaven has scattered upon regions uncul-

tivated and unoccupied, cannot be considered without

giving rise

to a 'great

number

bewildering the imagination

of pleasing ideas, and

in

delightful prospects

and threfore, whatever speculations they may produce

in

those

who have

confined themselves to

studies, naturally fixed the

applause, of a poet.

men

The

political

attention, and excited

politician,

the

when he considers

driven into other countries for shelter, and obliged

to retire to forests

and deserts, and pass their

lives,

and

fix their posterity, in the

remotest corners of the world,

to avoid those hardships

which they

their native place,

may

suffer or fear in

very properly inquire,

legislature does not provide a

remedy

rather than encourage an escape from them.

conclude that the

flight of

every honest

Dd2

why

the

for these miseries,

man

He may
is

a loss

SAVAGE.
community

to the

guilt

ought

to

that those

be relieved

who

are

and the

burdened by accidental calamities

care of the public

and that those

unhappy without
which is over-

life

set at case

by the

who have by miscon-

duct forfeited their claim to favour, ought rather to be

made

useful to the society which they have injured,

than be driven from

more

But the poet

it.

is

employed

in

pleasing undertaking than that of proposing laws

which, however just or expedient, will never be made

or endeavouring to reduce to

rational

schemes of go-

vernment societies which were formed by chance, and

arc conducted by the private passions of those who preHe guides the unhappy fugitive, from
side in ihem.
want and persecution,
and seats himself

in

to

plenty, quiet,

and security,

scenes of peaceful solitude, and

undisturbed peace.

Savage has not forgotten, amidst the pleasing sentiments which this prospect of retirement suggested to
I, to censure those crimes which have been generally
committed by the discoverers of new regions, and to
expose the enormous wickedness of making war upon
Warbarous nations because they canned resist, and of
invading countries because they are fruitful
ing navigation only to propagate vice,
distant lands only to lay

them

waste.

of extend-

and of visiting

He

has asserted

the natural equality of mankind, and endeavoured to

suppress that pride which inclines men to imagine that

right is the consequence of power.

His description of the various miseries which force

men

to

seek for refuge

in

distant countries,

another instance of his proficiency

extensive study of

human

life

in the

affords

important and

and the tenderness with

which he recounts them, another proof of his humanity

and benevolence

SAVAGE,
It

is

323

observable that the close of this

poem

discovers

made in Mr. Savage's

by him in his youth, and

a change which experience had

opinions.

In a

published

in

poem

written

his miscellanies,

he declares

his

contemot

of the contracted views and narrow prospects of the

middle state of life, and declares his resolution either
to

tower like the cedar, or

but

in this

tions this state of life

most

to

be trampled like the shrub

poem, though addressed

as

to a prince,

he men-

comprising those who ought

who merit most the con-

to attract reward, those

fidence of power and the familiarity of greatness

and,

accidentally mentioning this passage to one of his friends,

declared, that in his opinion

was comprehended
In describing

condemn

that

all

the virtue of

mankind

in that state.

and gardens, he did not omit to

villas

absurd custom which prevails

English, of permitting servants to receive

among the
money from

strangers for the entertainment that they receive, and

therefore inserted in his

poem

these lines

But what the flow'ring pride of gardens rare*

royal, or however fair,
If gates, which to access should still give way,

However

Ope but

like Peter's paradise, for

If perquisited varlets

pay

frequent stand,

And each new walk must a new tax demand

What foreign eye but with contempt surveys ?
What muse shall from oblivion snatch their praise?
But before the publication of his performance he requeen allowed her garden and cave
Richmond to be shewn for money and that she so,

collected, that the

at

openly countenanced the practice, that she had bestow-

ed the privilege of shewing them as a place of profit

on a man, whose merit she valued herself upon reward-*

SAVAGE

324
ing,

though she gave him only the

liberty of disgracing

his country.

He

therefore, thought with

more prudence than was

often exerted by him, that the publication of these lines

might be

officiously represented

queen, to

whom

he owed

and that the propriety of

security against the

ness of

as an insult

observation would be no

his

censures which the unseasonable-

might draw upon him

it

upon the

and his subsistarTce

his life

pressed the passage in the

first

he therefore supbut after the

edition,

queen's death thought the same caution no longer necessary, and restored

The poem was

it

to the ] roper place.

therefore, published without any po-

and inscribed to the prince

litical

faults,

vage,

having no friend upon

present

it

to

whom

but Mr. Sa-

he could prevail

to

him, had no other method of attracting his

observation than the publication of frequent advertise-

ments, and therefore received no reward from his pa-

however generous on other occasions.

This disappointment he never mentioned without indignation, being by some means or ollur confident that
tron,

the prince

was not ignorant of

insinuated, that

if

any advances

his address to

in

him

and

popularity could have

been made by distinguishing him, he had not written

without notice, or without reward.
He was once inclined to have presented his poems in
person, and sent to the printer for a copy with that design

but cither his opinion changed, or his resolution

deserted him, and he continued to resent neglect without attempting to force himself into regard.

Nor was
patron

the public

for only

much more

favourable than his

seventy-two were Bold, though the per-

formance was much commended by some whose judgment in that kind of writing is generally allowed. Hut
Savage easily reconciled himself to mankind, without

SAVAGE.
imputing any defect to

poem was

his

S25

work, by observing that his

unluckily published two days after the pro-

rogation of the parliament, and by consequence at a

time when

who

those

all

could be expected to regard

were in the hurry of preparing for their departure,

or engaged in taking leave of others upon their dismission from public affairs.
It must be however allowed, in justification of the
public, that this performance is not the most excellent
it

Mr.

of

Savage's

denied to contain
lines,

ently

works

many

that,

and just observations,

polished

Thus

poem

his

his poverty,

though

cannot be

it

it is

in

majestic

general not

suffici-

in the language, or enlivened in the

imagery, or digested
of

striking sentiments,

in

the plan.

contributed nothing to the alleviation

which was such

supported with equal patience

as veiy few could have

;

but to which,

it

must

would have been exposed who received punctually fifty pounds a year a

likewise

confessed, that few

be

salary which,

though by no means equal

of vanity and luxury,

families above

is

life

turnded

in

more than

require.

But no sooner had he received

his

demands

yet found sufficient to support

want, and was undoubtedly

the necessities of

withdrew to

to the

his pension, than

darling privacy, from which

a short time to his former distress,

he

he reand for

some part of the year generally lived by chance, eating

only when he was invited to the tables of his acquaintances, from which the meanness of his dress often excluded him, when the politeness and variety of his conversation would have been thought a sufficient recompence

He

for his entertainment.

lodged as

much by

accident as he dined, and

passed the night sometimes in

set

open

at

mean

houses, which are

night to any casual wanderers, sometimes

326

in cellars,

most

among

WAGE.

the riot and

of the meanest and

filth

sometimes, when he

profligate of the rabble; and

had not money

to

support even the expenses of these

receptacles, walked about the streets

and lay down

ter,

in the

summer upon

he was weary,

till

a bulk, or in the win-

among

with bis associates in poverty,

the ashes of

a glass-house.
In this

manner were passed those days and those

him to have employed

nights which nature had enabled

in

elevated

speculations,

On

conversation.

house,

among

useful

a bulk, in a

studies,
cellar,

or

pleasing

or in a

glass-

thievs and beggars, was to be found the

author of The

Wanderer, the

man

of exalted senti-

ments, extensive views, and curious observations; the

man whose remarks

on

life

might have

the

assisted

statesman, whose ideas of virtue might have enlighten-

ed the moralist, whose eloquence might have influenced senates, and whose delicacy might have polished
courts.
It cannot but be imagined that such necessities might
sometimes force him upon disreputable practices and
his probable that these lines in The Wanderer were oc;

casioned by his reflections on his conduct

Though misery
Unequal

leads to happiness, and truth,

to thr loud

tliis

(O, let none, censure,

It".

:<miilst

Which then,

in

to low arts of

sums, which the frequency of the

time considerable

fore quickly shunned by those

liar

enough

shame,

acquainted with him was certain to

for small

made

untried by grief,

ev'n then, he scorn'd, and blush'd to name.

Whoever was
request

languid youth,

wo, untempted by relief)

Hestoop'd reluctant

be solicited

if,

and he was there-

who were become

to be trusted with his necessities

fami-

but his

SAVAGE.

327

rambling manner of

life, and constant appearance at

houses of public resort, always procured him a new

succession of friends, whose kindness had not been ex-

hausted by repeated requests

so that

he was seldom

absolutely without resources, but had in his utmost ex-

igencies this comfort) that he always imagined himself

sure of speedy
It

relief.

was observed,

that

he always asked favours of

this

kind without the least submission or apparent consciousness of dependance, and that he did not

seem

to

look upon a compliance with his request as an obligation that deserved any extraordinary

by him

but a refusal was resented

complained of as an injury

acknowledgments
an

as

affront, or

nor did he readily recon-

cile himself to those who either denied to lend, or

gave him afterwards any intimation that they expected
to be repaid.

He was

sometimes

who knew

both

his

so

far

compassioned by those

merit and

distresses, that

they

received him into their families, but they soon discov-

ered him to be a very incommodious inmate

ing always accustomed to an irregular

he could not confine himself

to

for,

manner of

belife,

any stated hours, or pay

any regard to the rules of a family, but would prolong

his conversation

till

midnight, without considering that

business might require his friend's application in the

morning

artd,

tire to bed,

was

to dinner

it

when he had persuaded himself

riot

to re-

without equal difficulty called up

was therefore impossible

to

pay him any

distinction without the entire subversion of all econo-

my, a kind of establishment which, wherever he went,

he always appeared ambitious to overthrow.
It

must, therefore, be acknowledged,

in justification

was not alwsys by the negligence or

coldness of his friends that Savage was distressed, but

of mankind, that

it

9AYAI.K

328

because
long

it

was

in a state

very

in reality

To

of ease.

a hopeless attempt

difficult

preserve him

to

supply him with money was

no sooner did he sec himself

for

master of a sum sufficient to set him free from care for

When
a day, than he became profuse and luxurious.
once he had entered a tavern, or engaged
of pleasure, he never retired

him

to

some new expedient.

a scheme

in

want of money obliged

till

he was entertained

If

in

family, nothing was any longer to be regarded there

but amusements and

jollity

he immediately expected
fly

before him, that

all

wherever Savage entered,

that order

and business should

should thenceforward be

left

to

hazard, and that no dull principle of domestic manage-

ment should be opposed

upon his gaiety.
His

him

distresses,

however

in his lowest state

his inclination, or intrude

to

afflictive,

never

he wanted not

dejected

spirit to assert

was always ready to rewhich the superiority of fortune

the natural dignity of wit, and

press that insolence
incited,

and to trample on that reputation which rose

upon any other

basis than

that

of merit

he never ad-

mitted any gross familiarities, or submitted to be treat-

Once, when

ed otherwise than as an equal.

lie

was

without lodging, meat, or clothes, one of his friends, a

man

indeed not remarkable

perity, left a

for

moderation

message, that he desired

nine in the morning.

Savage knew

to

see

that

in his pros-

him about

his

intention

him but was very much disgusted that he

should presume to prescribe the hour of his attendance,
was

and,

to assist

believe, refused

to

visit

him, and rejected his

kindness.

The same

invincible temper,

whether firmness or

obstinacy, appeared in his conduct to the

nel,

from

whom

lord

Tyrcon-

he very frequently demanded, that the

allowance which was once paid him should be restored

SAVAGE.

329

but with

whom

moment

the thought of soliciting a reconciliation, and

whom

he never appeared

he treated

superiority, and

once with

at

all

all

for a

entertain

to

the haughtiness of

the bitterness of resentment.

He

wrote to him not in a style of supplication or respect,

but of reproach, menace, and contempt; and appeared

determined,
it

if

he ever regained his allowance, to hold

only by the right of conquest.

As many more can

than that he

is

understanding
of fortune

is

nor

man

discover that a

is

richer

wiser than themselves, superiority of

not so readily acknowledged
is

that haughtiness

as that

which the consci-

ousness of great abilities ineites borne with the same

submission as the tyranny of affluence

Savage, by asserting

his

and therefore

claim to deference and regard,

and by treating those with contempt

whom

tune animated to rebel against him, did not

a great

number

better forfail

to raise

of enemies in the different classes of

Those who thought themselves raised above

hated him because
they found no protection from the petulance of his wit.
Those who were esteemed for their wridngs feared
him as a critic, and maligned him as a rival and almost
all the smaller wits were his professed enemies.
Among these Mr. Miller so far indulged his resentment as to introduce him in a farce, and direct him to

mankind.

him by

the advantages of riches,

be personated on the stage,

he then wore
that

mean

Savage had but one

that which
which only insinuated
and which was therefore

in a dress like

insult,

coat,

despised by him rather than resented

for, though he
wrote a lampoon against Miller, he never printed it;
and as no other person ought to prosecute that revenge
;

from which the person who was injured

desisted, I shall

not preserve what Mr. Savage suppressed

Vol.JI.

Ee

of which

BAYAGE.

310

the publication would indeed have been a punishment

too severe for so impotent an assault.

The

great hardships of poverty were to Savage not

the want of lodging or of food, but the neglect and con-

tempt which
as his affairs

lie complained that,

it drew upon him.
grew desperate, he found his reputation

for capacity visibly decline

that his opinion in

ques-

was no longer regarded, when his

coat was out of fashion and that those who, in the interval of his prosperity, were always encouraging him
tions of criticism

to great

undertakings by encomiums on his genius and

assurances of success,

now received any mention

of his

designs with coldness, thought that the subjects on

which he proposed

to

write were very difficult, and

were ready to inform him, that the event of a poem

was uncertain, that an author ought to employ much
lime in the confidence of his plan, and not presume to
^it

down

to write in confidence of a

few cursory ideas,

and a superficial knowledge difficulties were started on

all sides, and he was no longer qualified for any perfor;

mance but " The Volunteer Laureat."

Vet even

this

kind of contempt never depressed

always preserved a steady confidence in

him ;
and believed nothing above his reach
capacity,
own
his
which he should at any time earnestly endeavour to atfor he

He formed schemes of the same kind with regard

knowledge and to fortune, and flattering himself with

tain.

to

advances to be made
enjoyed

in

some

in science, as

with riches, to be

distant period of his

life.

For the ac-

knowledge he was indeed far better qualiinquisified than for that of riches; for he was naturally
from
those
of
conversation
tive, and desirous of the

quisition of

any information was to be obtained, but by no

means solicitous to improve those opportunities that

whom

were sometimes offered of

raising his fortune; and he

SAVAGE.
was remarkably retentive of
once he was
a quality

331
ideas,

his

which, when

them, rarely forsook him

in possession of

which could never be communicated

his

to

money.

While he was thus wearing out his life in expectaqueen would some time recollect her pro-

tion that the

mise, he had recourse to the usual practice of writers,

and published proposals for printing his works by sub-

which he was encouraged by the success

scription, to

of

many who had

not a better right to the favour of the

whatever was the reason, he did not find

the worid equally inclined to favour him ; and- he ob-

public

but,

some

served, with

works

his

a small

though he offered

discontent, that,

at half-a-guinea,

he was able to procure but

number in comparison
as much to Duck.

who

with those

subscri-

bed twice

Nor was

it

without indignation that he saw his pro-

who

posals neglected by the queen,

Duck's with uncommon ardour, and

tion

among

who

those

patronised

Mr.

incited a competi-

attended the court,

and who should

who should

most promote

his interest,

subscription.

This was a distinction to which Mr. Sa-

vage made no scruple of asserting, that

misfortunes, and his genius

could be pleaded by him on

first

his birth, his

gave a fairer

whom

it

offer a

title

than

was conferred.

Savage's applications were, however, not universally

unsuccessful

for

some of

the nobility countenanced his

design, encouraged his proposals, and subscribed with

great liberality.
ticularly, that,

He

related of the

upon receiving

him ten guineas.

But the money which
was not

schemes

he sent

his subscriptions afforded

less volatile than that

his other

duke of Chandos par-

his proposals,

him

which he received from

whenever a subscription was paid

him, he went to a tavern

and, as

money

so collected

SAVAGE.

332
is

necessarily received in small sums, he never

send his poems to the press, but for

to

many

was able

years con-

tinued his solicitation, and squandered whatever he obtained.

works was frequently

grew obsolete, new ones
were printed with fresher dates. To fonn schemes for
the publication, was one of his favourite amusements;
nor was he ever more at ease than when, with any
friend who readily fell in with his schemes, he was adThis project of priming

revived

and as

his

his proposals

justing the print, forming the advertisements, and regulating the dispersion of his
ly

intended

some time

new

edition,

to publish,

which he

real-

and which, as long

had shewn him the impossibility of printvolume together, he at last determined to diinto weekly or monthly numbers, that the profits

as experience

ing the
vide

of the first

Thus he

might supply the expenses of the next.

spent his time in mean expedients and

tor-

menting suspense, living for the greatest part in feat

of prosecutions from his creditors, and consequently
skulking in obscure pails of the town, of which he was
no stranger to the remotest corners. But wherever he
secured him friends, whom his necesso that he had, perhaps, a more
sities soon alieniatcd
than any man ever before atacquaintance
numerous

came,

his address

tained, there

account
mc

to

was not

To

the

being scarcely any person eminent on

whom
in

am

he was not known, or whose character

some degree

able to delineate.

acquisition of this

every circumstance of his

life

extensive acquaintance

contributed.

He

excelled

and therefore willingly pracHe had seldom any home, or even a lodgtised them.
and therefore was
ing in which he could be private
conveniences
common
driven into public-houses for the

in the arts of conversation,

of

life

and supports of nature.

He was always ready

tu

SAVAGE.
comply with every

invitation,

to withhold him, and often no

self

33j

having no employment

money

to

provide for him-

and by dining with one company, he never failed

of obtaining an introduction into another.

Thus
sistence

der

was

dissipated
;

his life,

and thus casual

his sub-

yet did not the distraction of his views hin-

him from

reflection, nor the uncertainty of his con-

dition depress his gaiety.

When

he had wandered about

without any fortunate adventure by which he was led

a tavern, he sometimes

into

and was able

to

employ

with pleasing imaginations

retired

mind

his

into

study or

in

the fields,

amuse

and seldom appeared

melancholy, but when some sudden misfortune

fallen

upon him

and even then

would disentangle himself from

This

life,

unhappy

was yet imbittered,

as

it

his perplexity,

presented to

may be

in 1738, with

new

death of the queen deprived him of

it

be

had

few moments he

in a

adopt

mind whol-

the subject of conversation, and apply his

ly to the objects that others

to

it.

already imagined,
calamities.

all

The

the prospects of

preferment with which he so long entertained his imagination

and, as sir Robert

him reason

to believe that

formance of

his promise,

Walpole had before given

he never intended the perhe was now abandoned again

to fortune.

He
and as

was, however, at that time, supported by a friend

it

was not

his

custom

to

look out for distant ca-

lamities, or to feel any other pain than that

ed

itself

his loss,

sion

which forcupon his senses, he was not much afflicted at

and perhaps comforted himself that his pen-

would be now continued without the annual

tri-

bute of a panegyric.

Another expectation contributed likewise to support

; he had taken a resolution to write a second trage-

him

dy upon the story of

sir

Thomas Overbury,
e e 2

in

which he

334

SATAGE.

preserved a few

of the former play, but

lines

total alteration of the

introduced new characters

made

added new incidents, and

plan,

so that

it

was a new

tra-

gedy, not a revival of the former.

Many

and that he thought

memory

of the

first

for

making

not

but, in vindication of him-

it

was not easy

it

his

he asserted, that

self,

him

of his friends blamed

choice of another subject

to find a

better

to extinguish

interest

the

tragedy, which he could only do

upon the same story

by
which he should entirely defeat the artifice of the book-

by writing one

sellers,

who,

tion, are

less defective

after the death

of any author of reputa-

always industrious to swell

his

works, by unit-

ing his worst productions with his best.

In the execution of this scheme, however, he pro-

ceeded but slowly, and probably only employed himself

upon

it

when he could

find

no other amusement

he pleased himself with counting the

profits,

but

and per-

haps imagined that the theatrical reputation which he

to acquire, would be equivalent to all that he

was about
liad lost

by the death of his patroness.

lie did not, in confidence of his approaching richer

neglect the measures proper to secure the continuance

of his pension, though

some of

favourers thought

his

him culpable for omitting to write on her death but

on her birth-day next year, he gave a proof of the soli;

dity of his

knew
hat

it

judgment, and the power of his genius. He

been so long beaten,

that the track of elegy had

was impossible

the footsteps of those

that therefore

it

to travel in

it

without treading

who had gone

was necessary,

that

before hiin

in

and

he might distin-

guish himself from the herd of encomiasts, to find out

>ome new walk of luncial panegyric.

This
ihat

ills

difficult task

poem may

he performed in such a maimer,

he justly ranked

among

the

ber.t

SAVAGE.

335

By

princes has produced.

pieces that the death of

transferring the mention of her death to her birth-day,

he has formed a happy combination of topics, which

any other man would have thought it very difficult to
connect in one view, but which he has united in such a

manner, that the

ral

and

may

it

relation

be justly

would have thought on,

ble for any

The
is

man

many

now appears

man

scarcely possi-

peculiar combination of images

this

so masterly, that
;

what no other

said, that

it

to miss.

beauty of

censure

between them appears natu-

sufficient to set this

it is

and therefore

it

is

poem above

not necessary to mention

may

other delicate touches which

be found

and which would deservedly be admired

in

in

it,

any other

performance.

To

these proofs of his genius

may be

added, from the

same poem, an instance of his prudence, an excellence

for which he was not so often distinguished he does
;

not forget to remind the king, in the most delicate and

manner, of continuing

artful

With regard
for some time

in

solicitous about

it

new tradegy
had

for a

It

this address,

he was

suspense, but was in no great degree

;

and continued his labour upon his

with great tranquillity,

till

the friend

who

considerable time supported him, removing

his family to another

him.

his pension.

to the success of

place, took occasion to dismiss

then became necessary to inquire more

dili-

gently what was determined in his affair, having reason

to suspect that

no great favour was intended him, be-

he had not received

cause

his

pension

at

the usual

time.
It

is said,

that

he did not take those methods of

trieving his interest,

ceed

which were most

and some of those

re-

likely to suc-

who were employed in the

much violence

exchequer, cautioned him against too

SAVAGE.

336
in

his

proceedings

but Mr. Savage,

who seldom

re-

gulated his conduct by the advice of others, gave way

to his
at

passion,

and demanded of

Robert Walpole,

sir

his levee, the reason of the distinction that

was made

between him and the other pensioners of the queen,

with a degree of roughness which perhaps determined

him to withdraw what had been only delayed.

Whatever was the crime of which he was accused
or suspected, and whatever influence was employed
against

him, he received soon after an account that

took from

him

all

hopes of regaining his pension

and

he had now no prospect of subsistence but from his

play, and he knew no way of living for the time requir-

ed

to finish

it.

So peculiar were the misfortunes of

prived of an estate and

title

this

man, de-

by a particular law, ex-

posed and abandoned by a mother, defrauded by a mother of a fortune which his father, had allotted him, he

entered the world without a friend

abilities

and though

his

forced themselves into esteem and reputation,

he was never able to abiain any real advantage and

whatever prospects arose, were always intercepted as
;

he began to approach them. The king's intentions in

his dedication to the prince,
his favour were frustrated
whose generosity on every other occasion was eminent,
;

procured him no reward ; sir Robert Walpole, who

valued himself upon keeping his promise to others,

him without regret and the bounty of the

it to
queen was, after her death, withdrawn from him, and
from him only.
Such were his misfortunes, which yet he bore, not
only with decency, but with cheerfulness nor was his

broke

geaity clouded even by his last disappointments, though

he was in a short time reduced to the lowest degree of

At
distress, and often wanted both lodging and food.

SAVAGE.
this

337

time he gave another instance of the insurmounta-

ble obstinacy of his spirit

his clothes

and he received notice, that at a

clothes and linen were
sent

was

them
to

did not,

left

for

were worn out

coffee-house

him

believe, inform

some

who

the person

him

to

whom

he

be obliged, that he might spare the perplexity

of acknowledging the benefit

but though the offer was

was made with some neglect of ceremonies, which Mr. Savage so much resented, that
he refused the present, and declined to enter the house
till the
clothes that had been designed for him were
so far generous,

it

taken away.

His

distress

was now publicly known, and

therefore, thought

it

his friends,

proper to concert some measures

for his relief; and one of them wrote a letter to him,

in which he expressed his concern " for the miserable

withdrawing of
in a short

his pension ;"

and gave him hopes, that

time he should find himself supplied with

a competence, without any dependance " on those

m

little

creatures which Ave are pleased to call the great."

The scheme proposed

for this

happy and indepen-

dent subsistence was, that he should retire into Wales,

and receive an allowance of fifty pounds a year, to be raised by a subscription, on which he was to live privately
in a cheap place, without aspiring any more to affluence,
or having any farther care of reputation.

This

offer

Mr. Savage gladly accepted, though with

from those of his friends for

intentions very different

they proposed that he could continue an exile from

London

for ever,

his life at

and spend

Swansea

all

the

opportunity, which their

scheme offered him, of remight prepare his

and his other works for the press,

treating for a short

play for the stage,

remaining part of

but he designed only to take the

time, that he

SAVAGE.

>J8

and then
live

London

return to

upon the

to exhibit

own

profits of his

his tragedy,

auu

labour.

With regard to his works, he proposed very great

improvements, which would have required much time,
or great application

and,

when he had

he designed to do justice to
ing

them according

As he was

finished them,

his subscribers,

by publish-

to his proposals.

ready to entertain

himself with future

scheme of life for the

country, of which he had no knowledge but from paspleasures, he had planned out a

He imagined

torals and songs.

ported

to

scenes of flowery

that he should

felicity,

one poet has reflected to another

be trans-

those which

like

and had projected

a perpetual round of innocent pleasures, of which he

-suspected no interruption from pride, or ignorance or
brutality.

With these expectations he was so enchanted, that

when he was once gently reproached by a friend for
upon a subscription, and

advised

rather by a resolute exertion of his abilities to

support

submitting

to

live

himself, he co-ikl

not b.^ar to

happiness which was

to

be found

debar himself from the

in

the calm of a cottage,

or lose the opportunity of listening, without

intermission,

melody of the nightingale, which he believed was

to be heard* from every bramble, and which he did not
fail to mention as a very important part of the happiness

to the

of a country

life.

While this scheme was

him to take a lodging in

ripening*) his

he might be secure from

every

Monday

a guinea,

friends directed

the liberties of the Fleet, that

his creditors

and sent him

which he commonly spent be-

fore the next morning, and trusted, after his usual

manner, the remaining part of the week to the bounty

of fortune.

SAVAGE.

He now

began very sensibly

dependance.

began

Those by

to prescribe

to

whom

339

to feel

the miseries of

he was

lo

him with an

be supported
of authority,

air

which he knew not how decently to resent, nor patiently to bear

and he soon discovered, from the conduct
of most of his subscribers, that he was yet in the hands"
of" little creatures."
;

Of

the insolence that he was obliged to suffer, he

gave many instances, of which none appeared to raise

his indignation to a greater height, than the method
which was taken of furnishing him with clothes. Instead of consulting him, and allowing him to send a

orders for what they thought proper to allow

tailor his

him, they proposed

to

send for a

tailor

to take

his

measure, and then to consult how they shoidd equip

him.

This treatment was not very

as

on

delicate, nor

was

it

such

Savage's humanity would have suggested to him

occasion

a like

tion,

had

it

not,

but

it

had scarcely deserved men-

by affecting him

in

gree, shewn the peculiarity of his

hearing the

an

uncommon deUpon

character.

design that was formed, he

came

to the

lodging of a friend with the most violent agonies of

rage

and, being asked what

it

such disturbance, he replied

mence
to

could be that gave him

with the

utmost vehe-

of indignation," That they had sent for a tailor

measure him."

How

the affair ended was never inquired, for fear of

renewing

his uneasiness.

It is

probable that, upon re-

he submitted with a good grace to what he

could not avoid, and that he discovered no resentment
where he had no power.
He was however, not humbled to implicit and uni-

collection,

versal compliance
first

for

when

the gentleman,

who had
him

informed him of the design of supporting

BAVAGE.

-4v>

by a subscripticn, attempted
Tyrconnel,

With the lord

to

procure a reconciliation

he could

by no means be

prevailed upon to comply with the measures that were

proposed.

letter

mon,

was written

to prevail

for

upon him

him*

William Legood offices

to sir

to interpose

his

with lord Tyrconnel, in which he solicited

Wil-

sir

liam's assistance, " for a

man who

much

well do ;" and informed him,

man could

as any

really

needed

it

as

he was retiring " for ever, to a place where he

that

should no more trouble his relations, friends, or ene-

mies

;"

he confessed that his passion had betrayed him

some conduct, with

to

regard to lord Tyrconnel, for

which he could not but heartily ask

pardon

his

and as

he imagined that lord Tyrconnel's passion might be

yet so high that he would not " receive a letter from
him," begged that

sir
William would endeavour to
him; and expressed his hopes that he would comwith his request, and that "so small a relation would

soften

ply

not harden his heart against him."

That any man should presume

to dictate a

him, was not very agreeable to Mr. Savage

fore he was, before he had opened,
to

approve

it.

not

it

But when he read

much

inclined

he found

it,

tained sentiments entirely opposite

letter to

and there-

to

his

it

con-

own, and, as

he asserted, to the truth, and therefore, instead of copying

it,

ment and

wrote

his friend a letter full of

warm

expostulations.

that the style

and that he ought

him complain with "

He

masculine resent-

very justly observed,

was too supplicatory, and the representa-

tion too abject,

tress."

He

at least to

the dignity of a

have made

gentleman

in

dis-

declared that he would not write the para-

graph in which he was to ask lord Tyrconnel's pardon ;

for, M he despised his pardon, and therefore could not
Ry Mr. Tope.

Dr.

.1.

SAVAGE.

341

heartily,

and would not hypocritically, ask

marked

that

his friend

made

it."

He re-

a very unreasonable dis-

between himself and him ; " for," says he

" when you mention men of high rank in your own

tinction

character, they are

'

those

pleased to call the great

in

mine, no servility

is

creatures whom we arc

when
you address them
but

little

;'

sufficiently

with great propriety explained

humble." He then
ill consequences

the

which might be expected from such a

his relations

would

which would

for

their

print in

own

ever be produced as a

he should allege against them

all that

letter,

which

defence, and
full

answer

to

he always

for

intended to publish a minute account of the treatment

which he had received. It is to be remembered, to the

honour of the gentlemen by whom this letter was drawn
up, that he yielded to Mr. Savage's reasons, and agreed
that

it

ought

After

to

many

be suppressed.

at length raised,

a year,

was
pounds

alterations and delays, a subscription

which did not amount

to fifty

though twenty were paid by one gentleman

;*

such was the generosity of mankind, that what had

been done by a player without

now be

solicitation,

effected by application and interest

could not

and Savage

had a great number

less than that

to court and to obey for a pension

which Mrs. Oldfield paid him without ex-

acting any servilities.

Mr. Savage, however, was

satisfied,

and willing to

and was convinced that the allowance, though

scanty would be more than sufficient for him, being

retire,

now determined

to

commence

a rigid economist, and

to live according to the exactest rules of frugality

nothing was

in his opinion

man, who, when he knew

his

income, exceeded

* Mr. Pope.

Vol

II.

for

more contemptible than a

Ff

K.

it

and

SAVAGE.
yet he confessed, that instances of such folly were

common, and lamented that some men were

trusted with their own money.
Full of these salutary resolutions, he

left

toe*

not to be

London

in

July, 1739, having taken leave with great tenderness of

his friends,
tive with

and parted from the author of

He was

tears in his eyes.

fifteen guineas,

this

narra-

furnished with

and informed that they would be suf-

not only for the expense of his journey, but for

ficient,

Wales for some time and that there

more of the first collection. He
strict adherence to his maxims of parsi-

his support in

remained but

little

promised a
mony, and went away

in the

friends expect to hear from

stage-coach

him

till

nor did his

he informed them

of his arrival at Swansea.

when

But,

they least expected, arrived a letter dated

the fourteenth day after his departure, in which he sent

them word,

money and
;

that he

out a remittance.

was

in their

was yet upon the road, and without

proceed with

that he therefore could not

They

then sent

him the money

that

hands, with which he was enabled to reach

from whence he was

Swansea by water.
upon the shipping, so that he could not immediately obtain a passage
and being therefore obliged to stay there some time, he
Bristol,

At

Bristol he found an

to

go

embargo

to

laid

with his usual felicity ingratiated himself with

the principal inhabitants, was invited

to

many

of

their houses,

distinguished by their public feasts, and treated with a

regard that gratified his vanity, and therefore easily en-

gaged

He

his affection.

began very early

after his retirement to

complain

London, and

irritated

of the conduct of his friends

in

them so much by his letters, that they withdrew, however honourably, their contributions and it
is believed that little more was paid him than the twenty

many

of

333

SAVAGE.

pounds a year, which were allowed him by the gentleman who proposed the subscription.
After some stay at Bristol he retired to Swansea, the
place original)' proposed for his residence, where he
lived about a year, very

much

diminution of his salary

but contracted, as in other

the

dissatisfied with

who were most distinamong whom he has celebrated

Mr. Powel and Mrs. Jones, by some verses which he
inserted in " The Gentleman's Magazine."*

places, acquaintance with those

guished in that country,

Here he completed his tragedy, of which two acts

were wanting when he left London ; and was desirous
This deof coming to town, to bring it upon the stage.
and he was advised,
sign was very warmly opposed
by his chief benefactor, to put it into the hands of Mr.
;

Thomson and Mr.

Mallet, that

it

might be

fitted for

the

stage, and to allow his friends to recieve the profits, out

of which an annual pension should be paid him.

This proposal he rejected with the utmost contempt.

was by no means convinced that the judgment of

He

those, to
to
it,

whom

he was required

to submit,

was superior

own. He now determined, as he expressed

to be " no longer kept in leading-strings," and had
his

no elevated idea of "

sion

him out

He

his bounty,

of the profits of his

attempted

for his works,

in

Wales

to

who proposed
own labours."

to

pen-

promote a subscription

and had once hopes of success

but in a

short time afterwards formed a resolution of leaving

that part of the country, to

which he thought

it

not rea-

sonable to be confined, for the gratification of those

who

having promised him a liberal income, had no sooner

banished him to a remote corner, than they reduced his

* Reprinted

in the late collection.

SAVAGE.

44

allowance to a salary scarcely equal to the necessities

of

life.

His resentment of
opinion

broke

at least,

off all

this treatment,

nd oppressors

own

in his

correspondence with most of

them

butors, and appeared to consider

and

in

his contri-

as persecutors

the latter part of his

him

clared, that their conduct toward

ture from

which,

he had not deserved, was such, that he

life

de-

since his depar-

London " had been perfidiousness improving

on perfuliousness, and inhumanity on inhumaniiy."

It is not to be supposed
Savage did not sometimes

him

gerations of the behaviour of those by

himself reduced to them.

But

it

to satirical

whom

and that those

who withdrew

man, who, upon the

Into a kind of

he thought

rind

no easy task

may

It

from

promise, had gone

banishment, and abandoned

he had been before relieved

thai

hardship,

their subscription

faith of their

whom
it

exag-

must be granted,

;he diminution of his allowance was a great

Mr.

that the necessities of

incite

all

those by

in his distresses, will

to vindicate their

conduct.

be alleged, and perhaps justly, that he was

petulent and contemptuous

reproached

that

his subscribers for not

he more frequently
giving him more,

than thanked them for what he received ; but it is to

be remembered, that his conduct, and this is the worst
charge that can be drawn up against him, did them no
real injury, and that it therefore ought rather to have
been pitied than resented ; at least, the resentment it
might provoke ought to have been generous and manly

epithets which his conduct will hardly deserve, that

starves the
into his
It

that

man whom

he has persuaded to put himself

power.

might have been reasonably demanded by Savage,

they should, before they had taken away what they

promised, have replaced him

in hii

former

state,

that

SAVAGE.

345

they should have taken no advantages from the situa-

which the appearance of their kindness had

duced him, and that he should have been recalled
London before he was abandoned. He might justly

tion to

reto

re-

present, that he ought to have-been considered as a lion

in the toils,

and demand

to

be released before the dogs

should be loosed upon him.

He

endeavoured, indeed, to release himself, and, with

an intent to return to London, went to Bristol, where a

repetition of the kindness

him

which he had formerly found

He was

not only carressed and

had a collection made for him of about
pounds, with which it had been happy if he had

invited

to stay.

treated, but
thirty

immediately departed
did not suffer

him

for

London

to consider, that

but his negligence

such proofs of kind-

ness were not often to be expected, and that this ardour

of benevolence was in a great degree the effect of novel-

and might, probably, be every day

ty,

less

and there-

improve the happy time, but

was encouraged by one favour to hope for another, till
at length generosity was exhausted, and officiousness
fore he took no care to

wearied.

Another part of
prolonging his
concerting

all

his

misconduct was the practice of

visits to

unseasonable hours, and dis-

the families into which he was admitted.

This was an error

in the place of

commerce, which

all

the charms of his conversation could not compensate

for

what trader would purchase such

by the

loss of solid gain,

airy satisfaction

which must be the consequence

of midnight merriment, as those hours which were

gained at night were generally lost in the morning ?

Thus Mr. Savage,

was

after the curiosity of the inhabit-

found the number of his friends

daily decreasing, perhaps without suspecting for what
tants

gratified,

reason their conduct was altered

f f 2

for he

still

continued

SAVAGE.

:'

to harass, with his nocturnal

intrusions, those that yet

countenanced him, and admitted him to their houses.

But he did not spend all the time of his residence at
Bristol in visits or at taverns

ed

to his studies,

When

signs.

he

he sometimes return-

for

and began several considerable defelt

an inclination to write, he always

Retired from the knowledge of his friends, and lay hid in

an obscure part of the suburbs,

till

again desirous of company, to which

tervals of absence

He

he found himself
likely that in-

it is

made him more welcome.

was always full of his design, of returning

don, to bring his tragedy upon the stage

neglected to depart with the

money

to

Lon-

but, having

was raised

that

fur

him, he could not afterwards procure a sum sufficient

to defray the

would a

expenses of the journey

nor perhaps

fresh supply have had any other effect than, by

putting immediate pleasures into his power, to

have

driven the thoughts of his journey out of his mind.

While he was thus spending the day in contriving a

scheme for the morrow, distress stole upon him by imperceptible degrees.

some

of those

versation
to others,

His conduct had already wearied

who were

at first

enamoured of

but he might, perhaps,

whom

still

his con-

have devolved

be might have entertained with equal

made

success, had not the decay of his clothes

it

no

longer consistent with their vanity to admit him to their

tables, or to associate with

now began
lie

called

to find

every

him

in

public

man from home

at

He

places.

whose house

and was therefore no longer able

to

procure

the necessaries of life, but wandered about the town,

slighted and neglected, in quest of a dinner, which he
did not always obtain.

To

complete

his misery,

ficers for small debts

was therefore obliged

he was pursued by the

which he had contracted

to

of-

and

withdraw from the small num-

SAVAGE.

whom

ber of friends from

he had

His custom was, to

for favours.

347
still

lie in

reason to hope

bed the greatest

part of the day, and to go out in the dark with the ut-

most privacy, and after having paid his visit, return

again before morning to his lodging, which was the
garret of an obscure inn>

Being thus excluded on one hand, and confined on

the other, he suffered the utmost extremities of pover-

and often fasted so long that he was seized with

ty,

and had

faintness,

lost

his appetite,

bear the smell of meat,

was restored by

till

not being able to

the action of his stomach

a cordial.

he received a remittance of five

pounds from London, with which he provided himself
a decent coat, and determined to go to London, but unIn

this

distress,

happily spent his

money

at a

Thus

favourite tavern.

where he was every

was he again confined

to Bristol,

day hunted by

In this exigence he once

found a friend,
at

who

sheltered

him

in his house,

the usual inconveniences with which

was attended
to

bailiffs.

bed
It

for he could neither

in the night,

is

nor to

his

more

though

company

be persuaded to go

rise in the day.

observable, that in these various scenes of mi-

was always disengaged and cheerful : he at

his studies, and at others continued
or enlarged his epistolary correspondence nor was he
ever so far dejected as to endeavour to procure an in-

sery he

some times pursued

crease of his allowance by any other methods than accusations and reproaches.

He

had now no longer any hopes of assistance from

at Bristol, who as merchants, and by conse-

his friends

quence
posed

sufficiently
to

studious of profit, cannot be sup-

have looked with

much compassion upon

ne-

gligence .and extravagence, or to think any excellence

equivalent to a fault of such consequence as neglect ol

SAVAGE.

349

It is natural to imagine, many of those,

economy.
who would have relieved his real wants, were discouraged from the exertion of their benevolence by observation of the use which was made of their favours, and
conviction that relief would only be momentary, and
that the same necessity would quickly return.
At last he quitted the house of his friend, and return-

ed

lodging

to his

in a

few days

1742-3, having been

he was

the inn,

at

London

for

still

intending to set out

but on the

Oth of January,

supper with two of

at

his

friends,

rtturn to his lodgings arrested for a debt

at his

of about eight pounds, which

he owed

at

coffee-

house, and conducted to the house of a sheriff's officer.

The
to

account which he gives of this misfortune,

one of the gentlemen with

remarkable
"

It

to

whom

me

have

was not a

little

unfortunate forme, that

from entering on

now

is

too

be omitted.

yesterday's evening with you

ed

in a letter

he had supped,

spent

because the hour hinder-

my new

lodging

got one, but such a one as

however,

believe nobody

would choose.
" I was arrested at the suit of Mrs. Read, just as I
was going up stairs to bed, at Mr. Bowyer's but taken
in so private a manner, that I believe nobody at the
"White Lion is apprised of it though I let the officers
know the strength or rather weakness of my pocket, yet
;

they treated

me

they conducted
ner, that

with the utmost

me

civility

to confinement,

verily believe

it

and even when

was

in

such a man-

could have escaped, which

would rather be ruined than have done, notwithstanding the whole amount of my finances was but three
pence half-penny.
" In the
triously

first

place, I

cenceal

this

must
from

insist, that

you

Mrs. S

s,

will indus-

because

SAVAGE.

349

would not have her good-nature suffer that pain, which,

know, she would be apt to feel on this occasion.
" Next, I conjure you, dear sir, by all the ties of

friendship, by no

my

account

means

have one uneasy thought

to

tenance, and unruffled serenity of mind, which

praised

have

!)

my

friendship as trufy as

even harbour, the

I

and have had

in this,

Furthermore,

verer calamity.
lue

her) I would,

good, than
absolutely

will

at

utter, or

me, but

I freely

forgive her

never more have any intimacy with

a clue distance, rather do her an act of

ill-will.

(pardon the expression)

Lastly,

command you

me

you may, dear

friend,

me

any pecuniary

any,

from any one

not to offer

At another time,

of your friends.

se-

you va-

if

do yours, not to

assistance, nor to attempt getting

sion,

charge you,

(God be

much

in a

resentment against Mrs. Read.

least

believe she has ruined

and (though

oil

but to have the same pleasantry of coun-

or on any other occa-

be well assured,

would

ra-

ther write to you in the submissive style of a request

than that of a peremptory

my

" However, that

command.

truly*,

valuable friend

may

not

am too proud to ask a favour, let me intreat you

to let me have your boy to attend me for this day, not
only for the sake of saving me the expense of porters,
think

but for the delivery of some letters

names

"The

would not have known

civil

people whose

I have thus far met from those

am, makes me thankful to the Al-

treatment

whose prisoner

mighty, that though he has thought

my

to

to strangers.

fit

to visit

birth-night) with affliction, yet (such

goodness!)
cumstances.

my
I

the divine will.

affliction

is

murmei* not

As

me

(on

his great

not without alleviating cir;

but

am

to the world, I

endued by heaven with

is

all

hope

resignation to
that I shall

be

that presence of mind, that se-

rene dignity in misfortune, that constitutes the charac-

SAVAGE.

350

true nobleman

ter of a

coronets

beyond that of

a dignity far

a nobility arising from the just

principles of

philosophy, refined and exalted by those of Christianity."

He

continued five days

he should be able

The

of going to prison.

sity

at the officer's in

procure

to

his time, and the treatment

justly expressed

by him

The whole

in

which he passed

which he received, arc very

in a letter

ed

various people's

filling

which he wrote

my

head with their

which has obliged

ish chimerical systems,

(as far as

state

done

me

fool-

coolly

accommoway of think-

hurried from one wild system to another,

made

quite

to a

nature will admit) to digest, and

date myself to every different person's

ing

hopes that

and avoid the neces-

day," says he," has been employ-

friend
in

bail,

a chaos of

my

till

it

has

imagination, and nothing

promised disappointed ordered

to send, every

hour, from one part of the town to the other."

When

who had

his friends,

hitherto caressed and ap-

plauded him, found that to give

was the same, they

all

prison at the expense

bail

and pay the debt

refused to preserve
of eight pounds

him from

and therefore,

been for some lime at the officer's house

immense expense," as he observes in his letter,
was at length removed to Newgate.

after having

" at an
lie

This expense

was enabled to support by the

Nash at Bath, who upon receiving

he

generosity of Mr.

from him an account of his condition, immediately sent

him five guineas, and promised to promote his subscription
at

Bath with

By

his

all his interest.

removal

to

Newgate, he obtained at least a

rest from the disturbing

freedom from suspense, and

vicissitudes of

that

his

he now found
were only companions, who were wil-

hope and disappointment

friends

ling to share his gaiety but

not to partake of his mis-

SAVAGE.

351

and therefore he no longer expected any asfrom them.

must, however be observed of one gentleman,

fortunes

sistance
It

he offered to release him by paying the debt ; but

Mr. Savage would not consent, I suppose, because
he thought he had before been too burthensome to him.
He was offered by some of his friends that a collec-

that

that

should be made for his enlargement ; but he

u treated the proposal," and declared* " he should again

tion
:

treat
ters,

with disdain.

it,

As

he had too high a

some

write to

to writing

spirit,

any mendicant

let-

and determined only

to

ministers of state to try to regain his

pension."

He

continued to complain

him into

f of

those that had sent

the country, and objected to them, that he had

"

lost the profit of his play, which had been finished

three years ;" and in another letter declares his resolu-

tion to publish a

pamphlet, that the world might know

how " he had been

used."

This pamphlet was never written

for

he

in a

very

short time recovered his^usual tranquillity, and cheerfully applied himself to

more

inoffensive

He

studies.

indeed steadily declared, that he was promised a yearly

allowance of

sum

fifty

pounds, and never received half the

but he seemed to resign himself to that as well

as to other misfortunes, and lose the

in his

remembrance of

it

amusements and employments.

The

cheerfulness with which he bore his confinement

appears from the following

letter,

which he wrote Janu-

ary the 30th, to one of his friends in London.

"

gate,

now

write to you from

where

my

confinement

have been ever since Monday

* In a letter after his confinement.

f Letter, Jan. 15.

Dr. J.

in

New-

last

was

SAVAGE,

352
se'nnight, and

where

tranquility than

much more

enjoy myself with

have known for upwards of a twelve-

month past; having a room entirely to myself, and

pursuing the amusement of my poetical studies, unin-

my

terrupted, and agreeable to

mighty,

my

am now

person

ample and
able.

to

my mind

confinement,

thank the Al-

can expatiate on

freedom imaginnow more conversant with the Nine than

if,

instead of a

Newgate

be a bird of the muses,

very freely

mind.

collected in myself; and, though

useful subjects with all the

am

ever, and

ed

is in

all

in

my

cage

may be

bird, I

assure you,

sometimes indeed

tive notes of the nightingale

allow-

sir. 1

sing

in the plain-

but at others in cheerful

strains of the lark."

In another letter he

observes, that he ranges from

one subject to another, without confining

any particular task

himself to

and that he was employed one week

upon one attempt, and the next upon another.

Surely the fortitude of
to

this

be mentioned with applause

may be imputed

to

man

deserves, at least,

and, whatever faults

him, the virtue of suffering well

rannot be denied him.

The two powers

opinion of Epictetus, constituted

of bearing and forbearing

which

it

which,

in the

man, are those

a wise

cannot indeed be

affirmed to have been equally possessed by

Savage

and indeed the want of one obliged him very frequcntlyto practise the other.

He

was treated by Mr. Dagge, the keeper of the

humanity was supported by him at

own table, without any certainty of recompense
had a room to himself, to which he could at any time

prison, with great

his

retire

from

all

disturbance

was allowed

to stand at the

door of the prison, and sometimes taken out into the

fields ;*

so that he suffered fewer hardships in prison

See this confirmed, Gent, Mag.

vol.

LVII. 1140.

SAVAGE.

3S3

than he had been accustomed to undergo in the greatest part of his life.

The keeper

did not confine

his

benevolence to a

made some

gentle execution of his office, but

over-

tures to the creditor for his release, though without effect

and continued, during the whole time of his im-

prisonment, to treat him with the

and

utmost tenderness

civility.

Virtue

is

which makes

undoubtedly most

most

it

difficult

laudable

manity of a gaoler certainly deserves

tion

in that state

and therefore the huthis

public attesta-

and the man, whose heart has not been hardened

by such an employment, may be

justly

proposed as a

pattern of benevolence. If an inscription was once en-

graved " to the honest toll-gatherer,"

less

honours ought

not to be paid " to the tender gaoler."

Mr. Savage very frequently received

sometimes presents, from

amount

did not

his

visits,

acquaintances

to a subsistence, for the

and

but they

greater part

was indebted to the generosity of this

keeper but these favours, however they might endear
to him the particular persons from whom he received
of which

he

them, were very

far

from impressing upon

his

mind any

advantageous ideas of the people of Bristol, and therethought he could not more properly employ
than in writing a poem called " Lon-

fore he

himself

in prison,

don and Bristol delineated."*

When

he had brought

this

poem

to its present state,

which, without considering the chasm,

is

not perfect,

he wrote to London an account of his design, and informed his friend, t that he was determined to print it
*

The

Bristol

title to that of " London and

when he began the piece 3 he in-

author preferred thi9

compared

;"

tended to prefix to

which,

it.

Dr. J.

f This friend wag Mr. Cave the printer.

Vol

II.

Gg

N.

BA\ AGL.

name

with his

but enjoined him not to communicate

his intention to his Bristol

The

acquaintance.

gentle-

man, surprised at his resolution, endeavoured to dissuade him from publishing it, at least from prefixing
his

name

and declared, that he could not reconcile the

own

injunction of secrecy with his resolution to

To

appearance.

first

agreeable to his character,

answer,

it

at its

Mr. Savage returned an

this

in

the following

terms
"
a

received yours

tion with

and

why

Bristol,

W oolaston add
ture?
it

will

case

and

are pleased to

secrecy

is

it

tell

was

it

to his

his will

not obliged to explain to any one.

what

Mr.
is it

calls

air, 1

say,

me

is

himself

would spurn

seem

You doubt my

my

to dictate to

me

at his friendship

do,

what then

reasons for that disapprobation,

my name

any

man

it

You

with contempt.

him know it

Perhaps

can give

in

My

saying,

Suppose

answer

;s,

that I

any such thing being determined to

would I have you suppose

will not suppose,

the contrary

to

If

very foreign from what

you would imagine. You go on

should not put

should assume such an

friend

not to think so by not letting

And suppose

to

private reasons, which I

agine that Mr. S

who

my

have

would not approve of it And

whether he does or not ? Do you im-

to

my name

intend to set

am

friend

Mr.

Na-

and pleasure to add

My

is

did

mine to do so in my own. You

me, that you understand not why

it.

answer

Why

Religion of

is

enjoined, and yet

answer a ques-

concerning London

add delineated ?

supi.ose that

in his

me

same word

the

and not without

To

contents.

you ask

question,

morning

this

surprise at the

little

neither, sir,

that 1 applied

to

>tr.

you

for

want of another press

Strong, of the post-office,

N.

nor

SAVAGE.
would

355.

have you imagine, that

owe Mr. S

obli-

gations which I do not."

Such was his imprudence, and such his obstinate adherence to his own resolutions, however absurd
!

prisoner

supported by charity

and, whatever insults

he might have received during the

latter part of his

stay at Bristol, once caressed, esteemed, and present-

ed with a liberal collection, he could forget on a sud-

den

his

lance

danger and his obligations to gratify the petu-

of his

or the eagerness of his resentment,

wit,

and publish a

satire,

by which he might reasonably ex-

pect that he should alienate those

him, and provoke those

whom

who

then supported

he could neither

resist

nor escape.

This resolution, from the execution of which

it is

probable that only his death couid have hindered him,

is sufficient to

shew, how

much

he disregarded

all

con-

opposed his present passions, and how

readily he hazarded all future advantages for any imWhatever was his predominant
mediate gratifications.
siderations that

neither hope nor fear hindered

inclination,

complying with

it

him from

nor had opposition any other

fect than to heighten his ardour,

and

irritate his

ef-

vehe-

mence.
This performance was however laid aside, while he
was employed in soliciting assistance from several
and one interruption succeeding anothgreat persons
er, hindered him from supplying the chasm, and perhaps from retouching the other parts, which he can
hardly be imagined to have finished in his own opinion
for it is very unequal, and some of the lines are rather
;

inserted to

the

sense

rhyme

to others, than to support or

but the

first

and

with great spirit and elegance,

last parts
f

improve

are worked up

SAVAGE.

356

His time was spent

prison for the most part

in the

but sometimes he deamusements, and diverted himself

study, or in receiving visits

in

scended
in the

lower

to

kitchen with the conversation of the criminals

was not pleasing to him to be much without

company; and, though he was very capable of a judicious choice, he was often contented with the first that
offered; for this he was sometimes reproved by his friends,
for

it

who

found him surrounded

proof was on

he continued

that, as

with

felons

but the re-

on other occasions, thrown away

to gratify himself,

and

to set very little

value

on the opinion of others.

But here,

as in every other scene of his

life,

he made

use of such opportunities as occurred of benefiting those

who were more

miserable than himself, and was always

ready to perform any office of humanity to his fellowprisoners.

He

had now ceased from corresponding with any of

his subscribers except one,

him

who

yet continued to remit

had promised

the twenty pounds a year which he

him, and by

been

in

whom it

was expected

he would have

that

a very short time enlarged,

because he had

directed the keeper to inquire after the state of his

debts.

However, he took care

to

enter his

name according

forms of the court,* that the creditors might be

obliged to make some allowance, if he was continued
to the

a prisoners and,

when on

that occasion

he appeared

in

the hall, was treated with very unusual respect.

But the resentment of the city was afterwards raised

by some accounts that had been spread of the satire

informed that some of the merchants in-

and he was

tended to pay the allowance which the law required,

and

to detain

him

a prisoner

See Gent Map

vol

at their
l.VII. I'M

own expend

SAVAGE.

3^/

This he treated as an empty menace ; and perhaps

might have hastened the publication, only to shew how
much he was superior to their insults, had not all his

schemes been suddenly destroyed.

When he had been six months in prison, he received
from one of his friends,* in whose kindness he had the
greatest confidence, and on whose assistance he chiefly
depended, a

that contained a

letter,

drawn up

atrocious ingratitude,

in

charge of very

such terms as sudden

resentment dictated. Henley, in one of his advertisements, had mentioned, " Pope's treatment of Savage."

This was supposed by Pope to be the consequence of

a complaint

made by Savage

to

Henley, and was there-

mentioned by him with much resentment. Mr.

Savage returned a very solemn protestation of his in-

fore

nocence, but however appeared

Some

accusation.

much

disturbed at the

days afterwards he was seized with

a pain in his back and side, which, as

was not suspected

lent,

daily

more languid and

he confined himself
spirits.

The

any assistance.
his bedside,
I

room, and a fever seized his

The symptoms grew

was on July the

"

dejected, on the 25th of July

to his

every day more formida-

but his condition did not enable him to procure

ble,

at

last

said,

time that the keeper saw him

1743

31st,

with an

when Savage,

moved

hand

his

in

communicate,

* Mr. Pope.

said,

him

left

sir ;"

but after a

manner and,
what he was going

a melancholy

" 'Tis

gone

!"

The keeper

and the next morning he died.

See some extracts of

letters

from that gen-

tleman to and concerning Mr. Savage, in Ruffhead's

Pope, p. 503.

him

earnestness,

finding himself unable to recollect

soon after

seeing

uncommon

have something to say to you,

pause,

to

was not vio-

it

be dangerous; but growing

to

R-

Gg2

life

of

bJ8

He

SAVAGE.

was buried

the church-yard of St. Peter, at the

in

expense of the keeper.

Such was

man
and

the

equally

and death of Richard Savage, a

by his virtues and vices

life

distinguished

once remarkable for

at

his

weaknesses and

abili-

ties.

He

was of a middle

stature, of a thin habit of body,

long visage, coarse features, and melancholy aspect;

of a grave and manly deportment, a solemn dignity of

mien, but which, upon a nearer acquaintance, softened

engaging easiness of manners. His walk was

into an

slow, and
easily

his voice

excited

tremulous and mournful.

to smiles, but very

He

was

seldom provoked

to

laughter.

His mind was

in

uncommon degree

an

vigorous and

His judgment was accurate, his apprehension

uctivc.

quick, and his

memory so tenacious, that he was freknow what he had learned from

quently observed to

those by

others, in a short time, better than

was informed; and could frequently

whom

he

recollect incidents,

all their combination of circumstances, which few

would have regarded at the present time, but which the
quickness of his apprehension impressed upon him.

with

He

had the peculiar

felicity that

attention

his

never

him; he was present to every object, and reHe had the

of
the most trifling occurrences.
gardful
art of escaping from his own reflections, and accommodeserted

dating himself to every

To

this quality

is

to

new

scene.

be imputed the extent of his

knowledge, compared with the small time which he

He mingled
spent in visible endeavours to acquire it.
in cursory conversation with the

same

tention as others appl y to a lecture

pearance

was

of thoughtless gaity, lost

started, nor

steadiness of

tt-

and amidst the ap-

no

new

idea that

any hint that could be improved.

He

SAVAGE.
had therefore made

same

coffee-houses the

in

ency as others in their closets

that the writings of a

359

man

of

and

little

it is

profici-

remarkable,

education and

little

reading, have an air of learning scarcely to be found in

any other performances, but which perhaps as often

obscures as embellishes them.

His judgment was eminently exact both with regard

and to men. The knowledge of life was in-

to writings

deed

his chief attainment

satisfaction, that I

and

it is

not without

some

can produce the suffrage of Savage

in favour of

human

to entertain

such odious ideas as some who perhaps had

neither his

judgment nor experience, have published,

nature, of which he never appeared

either in ostentation of their sagacity, vindication of their

crimes, or gratification of their malice.

His method of life particularly qualified him for conwhich he knew how to practice all the

versation, of

graces.

He

was never vehement or loud, but

at

once

modest and easy, open and respectful his language

was vivacious and elegant, and equally happy upon
;

grave or humorous subjects.

when

sured for not knowing

He

was generally cen-

to retire

but that was not

the defect of his judgment, but of his fortune;

he

left his

company, he was frequently

maining part of the night

abandoned

to

gloomy

in the street,

reflections,

which

that he delayed as long as he could

got that he gave others pain to avoid

It

cannot be said, that he

manner of

when

spend the re-

or at least Was*

it is

not strange

and sometimes forit

himself.

made use

of his abilities

own conduct an irregular and

life had made him the slave of

for the direction of his

dissipated

to

every passion that happened to be excited by the presence of its object, and that slavery to his passions reciprocally produced a

life

irregular and dissipated.

He

SAVAGE.

360

was not master of

his

own motions, nor could promise

any thing for next day.

With regard

to his

economy, nothing can he added

He appeared to think him-

to the relation of his life.

self born to

be supported by others, and dispensed from

necessity of providing for himself;

all

he therefore

never prosecuted any scheme of advantage, nor endea-

voured even to secure the profits which his writings

might have afforded him. His temper was, in consequence of the dominion of his passions, uncertain and
capricious he was easily engaged, and easily disgust;

ed

but he

is

accused of retaining his hatred more

tenaciously than his benevolence.

He

was compassionate both by natui'e and principle,

but
to perform offices of humanity
when he was provoked (and very small offences were
sufficient to provoke him) he would prosecute his reand always ready

venge with the utmost acrimony

till

had

his passion

subsided.

His friendship was therefore of

though he was zealous

whom

those

in

little

value

for

the support or vindication of

he loved, yet

it

wits

always dangerous

him, because he considered himself as dis-

to trust

charged by the
gratitude

quarrel from

first

all ties

of honour or

and would betray those secrets which

in the

warmth of confidence had been imparled to him. This

practice drew upon him a universal accusation of ingratitude
to set

nor can

it

be denied that he was very ready

himself free from the load of an obligation

he could not bear

to

conceive himself

in a state

for

of de-

pendancc, his pride being equally powerful with his

other passions ; and appearing in the form of insolence
at

one time, and of vanity

at another.

Vanity, the most

innocent species of pride, was most frequently predo-

minant

he could not easily leave

offj

when he had once

SAVAGE,
begun

S61

mention himself or his works ; nor ever read

from the page, to

to

his verses without stealing his eyes

discover in the t'aces of his audience,

how they were

affected with any favourite passage.

kinder

name

to the delicacy

parate his

than that of vanity ought to be given

with which he was always careful to se-

own merit from every

reject that praise to

forget, in
line that

other man's, and to

He did

which he had no claim.

not

mentioning his performances, to mark every

had been suggested or amended

accurate, as to relate that he

owed

three

and was so
words in The
;

Wanderer to the advice of his friends.

His veracity was questioned, but with little reason ;
his accounts, though not indeed always the same, were
generally consistent.
When he loved any man, he suppressed

all his faults

and,

when he had been offended

by him, concealed all his virtues : but his characters

were generally true, so far as he proceeded though it
cannot be denied, that his partiality might have some;

times the effect of falsehood.

In cases indifferent, he was zealous for virtue, truth,

and justice

he knew very well the necessity of good-

ness to the present and future happiness of mankind

nor

is

there perhaps any writer,

voured

to please

by

who

has less endea-

flattering the appetites, or pervert-

ing the judgment.

As

an author, therefore, and he

ence mankind

in

which he had resolved

very

little to

censure.

fear

now

ceases to influ-

any other character,

to

if

one piece

suppress be excepted, he has

from the

strictest

And though he may not

against the objections of the critic,

moral or religious

be altogether secure
it

must however be

acknowledged, that his works are the productions of a

genius truly poetical

and, what

many

writers

who

have been mo,re lavishly applauded cannot boast, that

9AVAGE.

S62

they have an original

which has no resemblance of

air,

any foregoing writer, that the versification and senti-

ments have a

man

Savage would

in

peculiar to themselves, which no

cast

can imitate with success, because what was nature

another be affectation.

in

It

must be

confessed, that his descriptions are striking, his images

animated, his fictions justly imagined, and his allegories

pursued

artfully

numbers sonorious and mathough frequently sluggish and encumbered.

jestic,

Ol

elevated, though

that his diction is

sometimes forced, and

his style, the

neral excell nee

beauty

vailing

his

general fault
is

is

dignity

is

harshness, and

ge-

its

of his sentiments, the pre-

simplicity, and uniformity the pre-

vailing defect-

For

his life, or for his writings, none,

who

candidly

consider his fortune, will think an apology either necessary or difficult.

If he

was not always sufficiently

was at least

instructed on his subject, his knowledge

greater

same

thm c

state.

uld have been attained by others in the

If his

works were sometimes unfinished,

accuracy cannot reasonably be exacted from a

man

op-

pressed with want, which he has no hope of relieving

but by a speedy publication.

sentment of which he

is

The

insolence and re-

accused were not easily

avoided by a great mind, irritated by

to

be

perpetual hard-

and constrained hourly to reiurn the spurns of

contempt, and repress the insolence of prosperity ; and
vanity may surely be readily pardoned in him, to whom
ships,

life

afforded no other comforts than barren praises, and

the consciousness of deserving them.

Those are no proper judges of his conduct, who have

slumbered away their time on the down of plenty nor
will any wise m*n presume to say, " had 1 been in Sa;

vage's condition,
than Savage."

should have lived or written bcttei

SAVAGE.
This relation
chose,
shall

who

will not

363

be wholly without

its

use, if

languish under any part of his sufferings,

be enabled to

fortify their patience,

by reflecting

from which the abiof Savage did not exempt him or those, who, in

that they feel only those afflictions

lities

confidence of superior capacities or attainments, dis-

regarded the

common maxims of

life,

be remindprudence and

shall

ed, that nothing will supply the want of

that negligence and irregularity long continued,

make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and

will

genius con-

temptible.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.