* * * * *

Our author's Poem, condoling the death of Mr. Philips, is full of the noblest beauties, and pays a just tribute to the venerable ashes of that great man. Mr. Smith had contracted for Mr. Philips the most perfect friendship, a passion of which he was very susceptible, and whole laws he considered as sacred and inviolable.

* * * * *

In the year 1707 Mr. Smith's Tragedy called Phaedra and Hippolitus was acted at the Theatre-Royal. This play was introduced upon the stage, at a time when the Italian Opera so much engrossed the attention of the polite world, that sense was sacrificed to sound. It was dress'd and decorated, at an extraordinary expence:——and inimitably perform'd in all its parts, by Betterton, Booth, Barry, and Oldfield. Yet it brought but few, and slender audiences.——To say truth, 'twas a fine Poem; but not an extraordinary Play. Notwithstanding the intrinsic merit of this piece, and the countenance it met with from the most ingenious men of the age, yet it languished on the stage, and was soon neglected. Mr. Addison wrote the Prologue, in which he rallies the vitiated taste of the public, in preferring the unideal entertainment of an Opera, to the genuine sense of a British Poet.

The PROLOGUE.

Long has a race of Heroes fill'd the stage, That rant by note, and thro' the gamut rage; In songs, and airs, express their martial fire, Combat in trills, and in a feuge expire; While lull'd by sound, and undisturb'd by wit, Calm and serene, you indolently fit; And from the dull fatigue of thinking free, Hear the facetious fiddle's rapartee; Our home-spun authors must forsake the field, And Shakespear to the soft Scarlatti yield. To your new taste, the poet of this day, Was by a friend advis'd to form his play; Had Valentini musically coy, Shun'd Phaedra's arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd joy, It had not mov'd your wonder to have seen, An Eunuch fly from an enamour'd queen. How would it please, should me in English speak, And could Hippolitus reply in Greek?

We have been induced to transcribe these lines of Mr. Addison, in order to have the pleasure of producing so great an authority in favour of the English drama, when placed in contradistinction to an entertainment, exhibited by Eunuchs and Fidlers, in a language, of which the greatest part of the audience are ignorant; and from the nature of which no moral instruction can be drawn.

The chief excellence of this play certainly consists in the beauty and harmony of the verification. The language is luxuriantly poetical. The passion of Phaedra for her husband's son has been considered by some critics as too unnatural to be shewn on the stage; and they have observed that the poet would have written more successfully if he had converted the son into a brother. Poetical justice is carefully distributed; Phaedra and Lycon are justly made the sufferers, while Hippolitus and Ismena escape the vengeance of Theseus. The play is not destitute of the pathetic, tho' much more regard is paid to the purity and elegance of the language, than a poet more acquainted with the workings of the heart would have done. We shall give an example to illustrate this observation. When Theseus reproaches Hippolitus for his love to Ismena, and at the same time dooms him as the victim, of his revenge and jealousy, he uses these words,

Canst thou be only clear'd by disobedience, And justified by crimes?—What! love my foe! Love one descended from a race of tyrants, Whose blood yet reeks on my avenging sword! I'm curst each moment I delay thy fate: Haste to the shades, and tell, the happy Pallas, Ismena's flames, and let him taste such joys As thou giv'st me; go tell applauding Minos, The pious love you bore his daughter Phaedra; Tell it the chatt'ring ghosts, and hissing furies, Tell it the grinning fiends, till Hell found nothing To thy pleas'd ears, but Phaedra and Ismena.

We cannot suppose that a man wrought up to fury, by the flame of jealousy, and a sense of afronted dignity, could be so particular in giving his son directions how to behave in hell, and to whom he should relate the story of his fate. When any passion violently overwhelms the soul, the person who feels it, always speaks sententiously, avoids repetitions, and is not capable of much recollection, at least of making a minute detail of circumstances. In how few words, and with greater force would Shakespear have conduced this speech of Theseus. An example will prove it: when Othello is informed that Cassio is slain, he replies,

Had all his hairs been lives, My great revenge had stomach for them all.

When Phaedra is made acquainted with the ruin of Hyppolitus, the poet makes her utter the following beautiful speech, which, however, is liable to the same objection as the former, for it seems rather a studied declamation, than an expression of the most agonizing throes she is then supposed to experience.

What's life? Oh all ye Gods! can life attone For all the monstrous crimes by which 'tis bought? Or can I live? when thou, O Soul of honour! O early hero! by my crimes art ruin'd. Perhaps even now, the great unhappy youth, Falls by the sordid hands of butchering villains; Now, now he bleeds, he dies,—O perjur'd traitor! See his rich blood in purple torrents flows, And nature sallies in unbidden groans; Now mortal pangs distort his lovely form, His rosy beauties fade, his starry eyes Now darkling swim, and fix their closing beams; Now in short gasps his lab'ring spirit heaves, And weakly flutters on his falt'ring tongue, And struggles into sound. Hear, monster hear, With his last breath, he curses purjured Phaedra: He summons Phaedra to the bar of Minos; Thou too shalt there appear; to torture thee Whole Hell shall be employ'd, and suff'ring Phaedra Shall find some care to see thee still more wretched.

No man had a juster notion of the difficulty of composing, than Mr. Smith, and he sometimes would create greater difficulties than he had reason to apprehend. Mr. Smith had, indeed, some defects in his conduct, which those are more apt to remember, who could imitate him in nothing else. Amongst the blemishes of an innocent kind, which attended Mr. Smith, was his extreme carelessness in the particular of dress; this oddity procured him the name of Captain Ragg. His person was so well formed, and he possessed so much natural gracefulness, that notwithstanding the disadvantage of his appearance, he was called, by the Ladies, the Handsome Sloven.

It is to be wondered at (says Mr. Oldisworth) that a man under poverty, calamities, and disappointments, could make so many friends, and those so truly valuable. He had, indeed, a noble idea of the passion of friendship, in the success of which, consisted the greatest, if not the only happiness of his Life. He was serene and chearful under the dispensations of providence; he avoided having any dealings with mankind in which he could not be just, and therefore refused to embrace some opportunities of amending his fortune.

Upon Mr. Smith's coming to town, no man was more surrounded by all those who really had, or pretended to wit, or more courted by the great men, who had then a power and opportunity of encouraging arts and sciences. Mr. Smith's character grew upon his friends by intimacy, and exceeded the strongest prepossessions which had been conceived in his favour. A few years before his death, Mr. Smith engaged in some considerable Undertakings; in all which he raised expectations in the world, which he lived not to gratify. Mr. Oldisworth observes, that he had seen about ten sheets of Pindar translated into English, which, he says, exceeded any thing of that kind, he could ever hope for in our language. He had drawn out a plan for a tragedy of Lady Jane Grey, and had written several scenes of it: a subject afterwards nobly executed by Mr. Rowe. His greatest undertaking was Longinus, which he executed in a very masterly manner. He proposed a large addition to this work, of notes and observations of his own, with an intire system of the art of poetry in three books, under the title of Thoughts, Action, and Figure; in this work he proposed to reform the art of Rhetoric, by reducing that confused heap of Terms, with which a long succession of Pedants had incumbered the world, to a very narrow compass; comprehending all that was useful and ornamental in poetry under each head, and chapter. He intended to make remarks upon all the ancients and moderns, the Greek, Latin, English, French, Spanish, and Italian poets, and to anamadvert upon their several beauties and defects.

Mr. Smith died in the year 1710, in the 42d of his age, at the seat of George Ducket esq; called Hartham, in Wiltshire; and was buried in the parish church there. We shall give the character of this celebrated poet in the words of Mr. Oldisworth:—"He had a quickness of apprehension and vivacity of understanding, which easily took in, and surmounted, the most knotty parts of mathematics and metaphysics. His wit was prompt and flowing, yet solid and piercing; his taste delicate, his head clear, and his manner of expressing his thoughts perspicuous, and engaging; an eager, but generous, emulation grew up in him, which push'd him upon striving to excel in every art and science, that could make him a credit to his college: and it was his happiness to have several cotemporaries, and fellow students, who exercised and excited this virtue in themselves and others: his judgment naturally good, soon ripened into an exquisite fineness, and distinguishing sagacity, which as it was active and busy, so it was vigorous and manly, keeping even pace with a rich and strong imagination, always on the wing, and never tired with aspiring; there are many of his first essays in oratory, in epigram, elegy and epic, still handed about the university in manuscript, which shew a masterly hand, and though maimed and injured by frequent transcribing, make their way into our most celebrated miscellanies, where they mine with uncommon lustre. As his parts were extraordinary, so he well knew how to improve them; and not only to polish the diamond, but enchase it in the most solid and durable metal.

"Though he was an academic the greatest part of his life, yet he contracted no sourness of temper, no tincture of pedantry, no itch of disputation, or obstinate contention for the old, or new philosophy, no assuming way of dictating to others, which are faults which some are insensibly led into, who are constrained to dwell within the walls of a private college." Thus far Mr. Oldisworth, who has drawn the character of his deceased friend, with a laudable fondness. Mr. Smith, no doubt, possessed the highest genius for poetry; but it is certain he had mixed but too little in life. His language, however luxuriously poetical, yet is far from being proper for the drama, and there is too much of the poet in every speech he puts in the mouths of his characters, which produces an uniformity, that nothing could teach him to avoid, but a more general knowledge of real life and characters. It is acknowledged that Mr. Smith was much inclined to intemperance, though Mr. Oldisworth has glossed it over with the hand of a friend; nor is it improbable, that this disposition sunk him in that vis inertiae, which has been the bane of many of the brightest geniuses of the world. Mr. Smith was, upon the whole, a good natured man, a great poet, a finished scholar, and a discerning critic.

[Footnote A: See the Life and Character of Mr. Smith, by Mr. Oldisworth, prefixed to his Phaedra and Hippolitus, edit. 1719.]

[Footnote B: Oldisworth, ubi supra.]

* * * * *



DANIEL DE FOE,

This gentleman acquired a very considerable name by his political and poetical works; his early attachment to the revolution interest, and the extraordinary zeal and ability with which he defended it. He was bred, says Mr. Jacob, a Hosier, which profession he forsook, as unworthy of him, and became one of the most enterprizing authors this, or any other age, ever produced. The work by which he is most distinguished, as a poet, is his True Born Englishman, a Satire, occasioned by a poem entitled Foreigners, written by John Tutchin, esq;[A]. This gentleman (Tutchin) was of the Monmouth faction, in the reign of King Charles II. and when that unhappy prince made an attempt upon his uncle's crown, Mr. Tutchin wrote a political piece in his favour, for which, says Jacob, he was so severely handled by Judge Jeffries, and his sentence was so very uncommon, and so rigorously executed, that he petitioned King James to be hanged.

Soon after the revolution, the people, who are restless in their inclinations, and loath that, to-day, for which they would yesterday have sacrificed their lives, began to be uneasy at the partiality their new King discovered to his countrymen. The popular discontent rose to such a heighth, that King William was obliged to dismiss his Dutch guards, and though he died in possession of the crown of England, yet it proved to him a crown of thorns, and he spent fewer peaceful moments in his regal station, than before his head was envisioned with an uneasy diadem. De Foe, who seems to have had a very true notion of civil liberty, engaged the enemies of the new government, and levelled the force of his satire against those, who valued themselves for being true-born Englishmen. He exposes the fallacy of that prepossession, by laying open the sources from whence the English have sprung. 'Normans, Saxons, and Danes, says he, were our forefathers; we are a mixed people; we have no genuine origin; and why should not our neighbours be as good as we to derive from? and I must add[B], that had we been an unmixed nation, I am of opinion, it had been to our disadvantage: for to go no farther, we have three nations about us clear from mixture of blood, as any in the world, and I know not which of them we could wish ourselves to be like; I mean the Scotch, Welsh, and Irish, and if I were to write a reverse to the satire, I would examine all the nations of Europe, and prove, that these nations which are the most mixed, are the best, and have least of barbarism and brutality amongst them.' Mr. De Foe begins his satire with the following lines,

Wherever God erects a house of pray'r, The devil always builds a chapel there: And 'twill be found upon examination, The latter has the largest congregation.

After passing a general censure on the surrounding nations, Italy, Germany, France, &c. he then takes a view of England, which he charges with the black crime of ingratitude. He enumerates the several nations from whence we are derived, Gauls, Saxons, Danes, Irish, Scots, &c. and says,

From this amphibious ill-born mob began That vain ill-natur'd thing, an Englishman.

This satire, written in a rough unpolished manner, without art, or regular plan, contains some very bold and masculine strokes against the ridiculous vanity of valuing ourselves upon descent and pedigree. In the conclusion he has the following strong, and we fear too just, observation.

Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate, And see their offspring thus degenerate; How we contend for birth, and names unknown, And build on their past actions, not our own; They'd cancel records, and their tombs deface, And openly disown the vile degenerate race: For fame of families is all a cheat, 'Tis pers'nal virtue only makes us great.

The next satire of any consequence which De Foe wrote, was entitled Reformation of Manners, in which some private characters are severely attacked. It is chiefly aimed at some persons, who being vested with authority to suppress vice, yet rendered themselves a disgrace to their country, encouraging wickedness by that very authority they have to suppress it.

Poetry was far from being the talent of De Foe. He wrote with more perspicuity and strength in prose, and he seems to have understood, as well as any man, the civil constitution of the kingdom, which indeed was his chief study.

In the first volume of his works there is a prose essay, which he entitles The Original Power of the Collective Body of the People of England, Examined and Asserted; this was intended to refute a very ridiculous opinion, which politicians, more zealous than wise, had industriously propagated, viz. 'That the representatives of the people, i.e. the House of Commons had a right to enact whatever laws, and enter into whatever measures they please, without any dependence on, or even consulting the opinion of, their constituents; and that the collective body of the people have no right to call them to an account, or to take any cognizance of their conduct.' In answer to which Mr. De Foe very sensibly observes, 'that it is possible for even a House of Commons to be in the wrong. They may be misled by factions and parties, and it is as ridiculous to suppose them infallible; as to suppose the Pope of Rome, or the Popish conclave infallible, which have more than once determined against one another. It is possible (says he) for them to be bribed by pensions and places, and by either of those extremes to betray their trust, and abuse the people who entrust them; and if the people should have no redress in such a case, then would the nation be in hazard of being ruined by their own representatives. And it is a wonder to find it asserted in a certain treatise, That it is not to be supposed, that ever the House of Commons can injure the people who entrust them. There can be no better way to demonstrate the possibility of a thing, than by proving that it has been already; and we need go no further back than to the reign of King Charles II. in which we have seen lists of 180 members, who received private pensions from the court; and if any body should ask whether that parliament preserved the ballance of power in the three branches of our constitution, in the due distribution some have mentioned? I am not afraid to answer in the negative. And why, even to this day, are gentlemen so fond of spending their estates to sit in the House, that ten thousand pounds have been spent at a time to be chosen, and now that way of procuring elections is at an end, private briberies, and clandestine contrivances are made use of to get into the House? No man would give a groat to sit, where he cannot get a groat himself for sitting, unless there were either parties to gratify, profits to be made, or interest to support. In this case it is plain a people may be ruined by their representatives, and the first law of nature, self-preservation, give the people a right to resent public encroachments upon their valuable liberties.'

In the same volume is a tract entitled The Shortest Way with the Dissenters, which contained reflexions against some ecclesiastics in power, for breathing too much a spirit of perfection. He became obnoxious to the ministry on this account, and was obliged to justify himself by writing an explanation of it. Mr. De Foe in his preface to the second volume of his works, collected by himself, takes occasion to mention the severe hardships he laboured under, occasioned by those Printers, more industrious than himself, who make a practice of pirating every work attended with success. As an instance of this kind of oppression, he mentions the True Born Englishman, by which, had he enjoyed the full profit of his own labours, he must have gained near a thousand pounds; for besides nine editions which passed under his own inspection, this poem was twelve times pirated: but the insolence of those fraudulent dealers did not stop here. A Printer of a bad reputation collected a spurious and erroneous copy of several pieces of De Foe, and entitled them The Works of the Author of the True Born Englishman; and though he was then embroiled with the government for one of the pamphlets which this collection contained, yet had this man the impudence to print amongst them the same pamphlets, presuming so far upon the partiality of the public resentment, that he should pass with impunity for publishing that very thing for which the author was to be prosecuted with the utmost severity. This, however, was an irresistible testimony, that the resentment shewn to the author was on some other, and less justifiable account, than the publication of that book; so was it a severe satire on the unwariness of the ministry, who had not eyes to discern their justice plainly exposed, and their general proceedings bantered by a Printer, for publishing in defiance of them that same book for which another man stood arraigned.

Mr. De Foe, who possessed a resolute temper, and a most confirmed fortitude of mind, was never awed by the threats of power, nor deterred from speaking truth by the insolence of the great. Wherever he found vice he lashed it, and frequently, as Pope says, he

Dash'd the proud gam'ster from his gilded car, Bar'd the mean breast that lurk'd beneath a star.

For some vigorous attacks against the measures of a prevailing party, which Mr. De Foe reckoned unconstitutional and unjust, he was prosecuted, and received sentence to stand on the pillory; which punishment he underwent.

At the very time he was in the hands of the ministry, to shew the invincible force of his mind, he wrote a Hymn to the Pillory, as a kind of defiance of their power. 'The reader (says he)[C] is desired to observe this poem was the author's declaration, even when in the cruel hands of a merciless, as well as unjust ministry; that the treatment he had from them was unjust, exorbitant, and consequently illegal.' As the ministry did not think proper to prosecute him for this fresh insult against them, that forbearance was construed a confession of guilt in their former proceedings.

* * * * *

In the second volume of our author's works, is a piece entitled More Reformation, a satire upon himself. We have already taken notice of a satire of his called Reformation of Manners, in which some personal characters are stigmatized, which drew much odium on Mr. De Foe. This satire called More Reformation, is a kind of supplement to the former. In the preface he complains of the severe usage he had met with, but, says he, 'that the world may discern that I am not one of those who practice what they reprove, I began this satire with owning in myself those sins and misfortunes which I am no more exempted from, than other men; and as I am far from pretending to be free from human frailties, but forwarder to confess any of the errors of my life, than any man can be to accuse me; I think myself in a better way to reformation, than those who excuse their own faults by reckoning up mine.

'Some that have heard me complain of this hard usage, have told me, there is something of a retaliation of providence in it, for my being so very free with the character's of other men in a late satire called The Reformation of Manners. To this I answer, first, in that satire, or any other I ever wrote, I have always carefully avoided lashing any man's private infirmities, as being too sensible of my own, but if I have singled out any man by character, it has either been such, as intending to reform others, and execute the laws against vice, have been the greatest examples, and encouragers of it in their own practice; or such as have been entrusted with the executive power of justice, and having been called upon by the laws to reform us, have been a public reproach to the magistracy of this nation, and ought to be punished by the laws they have been protected by.

'Secondly, I have never made any man's disasters, or misfortunes, the subject of my satire. I never reproached any man for having his house burnt, ships cast away, or his family ruined. I never lampooned a man because he could not pay his debts, or for his being a cuckold.

'Thirdly, I never reproached any man for his opinion in religion, or esteemed him the worse for differing in judgment from me.

'If therefore the scandalous treatment I have received is just on me, for abusing others, I must ask such, who is the man? Where is the character I have given that is not just? and where is the retaliation of providence, that these men entitle themselves to in loading me with falsities and lies, as a just punishment for my speaking truth.

'But p-x on him, said a certain sober gentleman, he is a Whig, and what need he have meddled with his own party, could not he have left them out, there were characters enough on the other side?

'Why really I must own, I know no Whig or Tory in vice; the vicious and the virtuous are the only two parties I have to do with; if a vicious, lewd, debauched magistrate happened to be a Whig, what then? let him mend his manners, and he may be a Whig still, and if not, the rest ought to be ashamed of him.'

We have been induced to make this extract, as it seems to mew the genius and spirit of the author in a more advantageous light, than we could have otherwise done. Though he was a resolute asserter of Whig principles, and a champion for the cause of liberty, yet was he never blinded by party prejudice, but could discern designing, and selfish men, and strip them of their disguises, though, joined with him in the same political contests.

In the conclusion of the Hymn to the Pillory, which is written with great strength of expression, he assigns the reasons for his being doomed to that ignominy.

Thou Bugbear of the law stand up and speak, Thy long misconstru'd silence break, Tell us, who 'tis upon thy ridge stands there, So full of fault, and yet so void of fear; And from the paper in his hat. Let all mankind be told for what.

Tell them it was because he was too bold, And told those truths which should not ha' been told. Extol the justice of the land Who punish what they will not understand; Tell them that he stands there For speaking what we would not hear; And yet he might ha' been secure, Had he said less, or would he ha' said more. Tell them that it was his reward, And worse is yet for him prepar'd, Because his foolish virtue was so nice As not to tell his friends, according to his friends advice.

And thus he's an example made, To make men of their honesty afraid, That from the time to come they may More willingly their friends betray, Tell them the ministers that plac'd him here, Are scandal to the times, Are at a loss to find his guilt, And can't commit his crimes.

There are in the same volume many other poetical pieces, and political, and polemical tracts, the greatest part of which are written with great force of thought, though in an unpolished irregular stile. The natural abilities of the author (for he was no scholar) seem to have been very high. He had a great knowledge of men and things, particularly what related to the government, and trade of these kingdoms. He wrote many pamphlets on both, which were generally well received, though his name was never prefixed. His imagination was fertile, strong, and lively, as may be collected from his many works of fancy, particularly his Robinson Crusoe, which was written in so natural a manner, and with so many probable incidents, that, for some time after its publication, it was judged by most people to be a true story. It was indeed written upon a model entirely new, and the success and esteem it met with, may be ascertained by the many editions it has sold, and the sums of money which have been gained by it. Nor was he lest remarkable in his writings of a serious and religious turn, witness his Religious Courtship, and his Family Instructor; both of which strongly inculcate the worship of God, the relative duties of husbands, wives, parents, and children, not in a dry dogmatic manner, but in a kind of dramatic way, which excites curiosity, keeps the attention awake, and is extremely interesting, and pathetic.

We have already seen, that in his political capacity he was a declared enemy to popery, and a bold defender of revolution principles. He was held in much esteem by many great men, and though he never enjoyed any regular pod under the government, yet he was frequently employed in matters of trust and confidence, particularly in Scotland, where he several times was sent on affairs of great importance, especially those relative to the union of the kingdoms, of which he was one of the negotiators.

It is impossible to arrive at the knowledge of half the tracts and pamphlets which were written by this laborious man, as his name is not prefixed, and many of them being temporary, have perished like all other productions of that kind, when the subjects upon which they were written are forgot. His principal performances, perhaps, are these,

A Plan of Commerce, an esteemed Work, in one large vol. 8vo. of which a new edition was lately published.

Memoirs of the Plague, published in 1665.

Religious Courtship.

Family Instructor. Two Volumes.

History of Apparitions (under the name of Moreton.)

Robinson Crusoe. Two Volumes.

Political History of the Devil.

History of Magic.

Caledonia, a Poem in praise of Scotland.

De Jure Divino, a Poem.

English Tradesman, &c.

History of Colonel Jack.

Cleveland's Memoirs, &c. are also said to be his. Considered as a poet, Daniel De Foe is not so eminent, as in a political light: he has taken no pains in verification; his ideas are masculine, his expressions coarse, and his numbers generally rough. He seems rather to have studied to speak truth, by probing wounds to the bottom, than, by embellishing his verification, to give it a more elegant keenness. This, however, seems to have proceeded more from carelessness in that particular, than want of ability: for the following lines in his True Born Englishman, in which he makes Britannia rehearse the praises of her hero, King William, are harmoniously beautiful, and elegantly polished.

BRITANNIA.

The fame of virtue 'tis for which I found, And heroes with immortal triumphs crown'd. Fame built on solid virtue swifter flies, Than morning light can spread my eastern skies. The gath'ring air returns the doubling sound, And long repeating thunders force it round: Ecchoes return from caverns of the deep; Old Chaos dreamt on't in eternal sleep, Time helps it forward to its latest urn, From whence it never, never shall return; Nothing is heard so far, or lasts so long; 'Tis heard by ev'ry ear, and spoke by ev'ry tongue.

My hero, with the sails of honour furl'd, Rises like the great genius of the world. By fate, and fame, wisely prepared to be The soul of war, and life of victory. He spreads the wings of virtue on the throne, And every wind of glory fans them on. Immortal trophies dwell upon his brow, Fresh as the garlands he has won but now.

What provocation De Foe had given to Pope we cannot determine, but he has not escaped the lash of that gentleman's pen. Mr. Pope in his second book of his Dunciad thus speaks of him;

Earless on high flood unabash'd De Foe, And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge below.

It may be remarked that he has joined him with Tutchin, a man, whom judge Jeffries had ordered to be so inhumanly whipt through the market-towns, that, as we have already observed, he petitioned the King to be hanged. This severity soured his temper, and after the deposition and death of King James, he indulged his resentment in insulting his memory. This may be the reason why Pope has stigmatized him, and perhaps no better a one can be given for his attacking De Foe, whom the author of the Notes to the Dunciad owns to have been a man of parts. De Foe can never, with any propriety, be ranked amongst the dunces; for whoever reads his works with candour and impartiality, must be convinced that he was a man of the strongest natural powers, a lively imagination, and solid judgment, which, joined with an unshaken probity in his moral conduit, and an invincible integrity in his political sphere, ought not only to screen him from the petulant attacks of satire, but transmit his name with some degree of applause to posterity.

De Foe, who enjoyed always a competence, and was seldom subject to the necessities of the poets, died at his house at Islington, in the year 1731. He left behind him one son and one daughter. The latter is married to Mr. Henry Baker, a gentleman well known in the philosophical world.

[Footnote A: Jacob, vol. ii. p. 309.]

[Footnote B: See Preface to the True Born Englishman.]

[Footnote C: See Preface to vol. ii.]

* * * * *



Mrs. ELIZABETH ROWE,

This lady was born at Ilchester in Somersetshire September 11, 1674, being the eldest of three daughters of Mr. Walter Singer, a gentleman of good family, and Mrs. Elizabeth Portnel, both persons of great worth and piety. Her father was not a native of Ilchester, nor an inhabitant, before his imprisonment there for non-conformity in the reign of King Charles II. Mrs. Portnel, from a principle of tenderness, visited those who suffered on that account, and by this accident an acquaintance Commenced, which terminated in the nuptial union. They who were acquainted with the lady, who is the subject of this article, in her early, years, perhaps observed an uncommon display of genius as prophetic of that bright day which afterwards ensued.

There is so great a similitude between painting and poetry, that it is no ways surprising, a person, who possessed the latter of these graces in so high a degree, should very easily discover an inclination to the former, which has often the same admirers. Accordingly we find Mrs. Rowe discover a taste for painting; she attempted to carry her taste into execution, when she had hardly steadiness of hand sufficient to guide the pencil. Her father perceiving her fondness for this art, was at the expence of a matter to instruct her in it; and she never failed to make it an amusement 'till her death. Every one acquainted with her writings, and capable of relishing the melifluent flow of her numbers, will naturally suppose, that she had a genius for music, particularly that of a grave and solemn kind, as it was best suited to the grandeur of her sentiments, and the sublimity of her devotion. But her most prevailing propension was to poetry. This superior grace was indeed the most favourite employment of her youth, and in her the most distinguished excellence. So powerful was her genius in this way, that her prose hath all the charms of verse without the fetters; the same fire and elevation; the same richness of imagery, bold figures, and flowing diction.

It appears by a life of Mrs. Rowe, prefixed to the first volume of her miscellaneous works, that in the year 1696, the 22d of her age, a Collection of her Poems on various Occasions was published at the desire of two of her friends, which we suppose did not contain all she had by her, since the ingenious author of the preface, Mrs. Elizabeth Johnson, gives the reader room to hope, that Mrs. Rowe might, in a little while, be prevailed upon to oblige the world with a second part, no way inferior to the former.

Mrs. Rowe's Paraphrase on the 38th Chapter of Job was written at the request of bishop Kenn, which gained her a great reputation. She had no other tutor for the French and Italian languages, than the honourable Mr. Thynne, son to the lord viscount Weymouth, and father to the right honourable the countess of Hertford, who willingly took the talk upon himself, and had the pleasure to see his fair scholar improve so fast by his lessons, that in a few months she was able to read Tasso's Jerusalem with ease. Her shining merit, with the charms of her person and conversation, had procured her many admirers: among others, the celebrated Mr. Prior made his addresses to her; so that allowing for the double licence of the poet and the lover, the concluding lines in his Answer to Mrs. Singer's Pastoral on Love and Friendship, were not without foundation in truth; but Mr. Thomas Rowe, a very ingenious and learned gentleman, was the person destined to fill the arms of this amiable poetess.

As this gentleman was a poet of no inconsiderable rank, a man of learning and genius, we shall here give some account of him, in place of assigning him a particular Article, as the incidents of his life will be more naturally blended with that of his wife.——He was born at London, April the 25th, 1687, the eldest son of the revd. Mr. Rowe: who with a very accurate judgment, and a considerable stock of useful learning, joined the talents in preaching and a most lively and engaging manner in conversation. He was of a genteel descent, both on his father's and mother's side; but he thought too justly to value himself on such extrinsic circumstances. His superior genius, and insatiable thirst after knowledge were conspicuous in his earliest years. He commenced his acquaintance with the Classics at Epsom, while his father resided there, and by the swift advances in this part of learning, quickly became the delight of his master, who treated him with very particular indulgence, in spight of the natural ruggedness and severity of his temper.

When his father removed to London, he accompanied him, and was placed under the famous Dr. Walker, master of the Charter-House-School. His exercises here never failed of being distinguished even among those who had the approbation of that excellent master, who would fain have persuaded his father to place him at one of our English universities; but how honourably soever Mr. Rowe might think of the learning of those noble feats of the Muses, yet not having the same advantageous notions of their political principles, he chose to enter him in a private academy in London, and some time before his death sent him to Leyden: Here he studied Jeuriel's Antiquities, civil law, the Belles Lettres, and experimental philosophy; and established a reputation for capacity, application, and an obliging deportment, both among the professors and students. He returned from that celebrated seat of literature, with a great accession of knowledge, entirely incorrupt in his morals, which he had preferred as inviolate, as he could have done under the most vigilant eye, though left without any restraints but those of his own virtue and prudence.

The love of liberty had always been one of Mr. Rowe's darling passions. He was very much confirmed therein, by his familiar acquaintance with the history and noble authors of Greece and Rome, whose very spirit was transferred into him: By residing so long at a Republic, he had continual examples of the inestimable value of freedom, as the parent of industry, and the universal source of social happiness. Tyranny of every kind he sincerely detested; but most of all ecclesiastical tyranny, deeming the slavery of the mind the most abject and ignominious, and in its consequences more pernicious than any other.

He was a perfect matter of the Greek, Latin and French languages; and, which is seldom known to happen, had at once such a prodigious memory, and unexhaustible fund of wit, as would have singly been admired, and much more united. These qualities, with an easy fluency of speech, a frankness, and benevolence of disposition, and a communicative temper, made his company much sollicited by all who knew him. He animated the conversation, and instructed his companions by the acuteness of his observations.

He had formed a design to compile the lives of all the illustrious persons of antiquity, omitted by Plutarch; and for this purpose read the antient historians with great care. This design he in part executed. Eight lives were published since his decease, in octavo, by way of Supplement to that admired Biographer; in which though so young a guide, he strikes out a way like one well acquainted with the dark and intricate paths of antiquity. The stile is perfectly easy, yet concise, and nervous: The reflections just, and such as might be expected from a lover of truth and of mankind.

Besides these Lives, he had finished for the press, the Life of Thrasybulus, which being put into the hands of Sir Richard Steele, for his revisal, was unhappily lost, and could never since be recovered.

The famous Mr. Dacier, having translated Plutarch's Lives into French, with Remarks Historical and Critical, the Abbe Bellenger added in 1734 a ninth tome to the other eight, consisting of the Life of Hannibal, and Mr. Rowe's Lives made French by that learned Abbe: In the Preface to which version, he transcribes from, the Preface to the English edition, the character of the author with visible approbation; and observes, that the Lives were written with taste; though being a posthumous work, the author had not put his last hand to it.

Such is the character of Mr. Rowe, the husband of this amiable lady; and when so accomplished a pair meet in conjugal bonds, what great expectations may not be formed upon them! A friend of Mr. Rowe's upon that occasion wrote the following beautiful Epigram,

No more proud Gallia, bid the world revere Thy learned pair, Le Fevre and Dacier: Britain may boast, this happy day unites, Two nobler minds, in Hymen's sacred rites. What these have sung, while all th' inspiring nine, Exalt the beauties of the verse divine, Those (humble critics of th' immortal strain,) Shall bound their fame to comment and explain.

Mr. Rowe being at Bath, in the year 1709, was introduced into the company of Miss Singer, who lived in a retirement not far from the city. The idea he had conceived of her from report and her writings, charmed him; but when he had seen and conversed with her, he felt another kind of impression, and the esteem of her accomplishments was heightened into the rapture of a lover. During the courtship, he wrote a poetical Epistle to a friend, who was a neighbour of Mrs. Singer, and acquainted with the family, in which were the following lines.

Youth's liveliest bloom, a never-fading grace, And more than beauty sparkles in her face. How soon the willing heart, her empire feels? Each look, each air, each melting action kills: Yet the bright form creates no loose desires; At once she gives and purifies our fires, And passions chaste, as her own soul inspires. Her soul, heav'n's noblest workmanship design'd, To bless the ruined age, and succour lost mankind, To prop abandon'd virtue's sinking cause, And snatch from vice its undeserv'd applause.

He married her in the year 1710, and Mrs. Rowe's exalted merit, and amiable qualities, could not fail to inspire the most generous and lading passion. Mr. Rowe knew how to value that treasure of wit, softness and virtue, with which heaven had blessed him; and made it his study to repay the felicity with which she crowned his life. The esteem and tenderness he had for her is inexpressible, and possession seems never to have abated the fondness and admiration of the lover; a circumstance which seldom happens, but to those who are capable of enjoying mental intercourse, and have a relish for the ideal transports, as well as those of a less elevated nature. It was some considerable time after his marriage, that he wrote to her a very tender Ode, under the name of Delia, full of the warmed sentiments of connubial friendship and affection. The following lines in it may appear remarkable, as it pleased Heaven to dispose events, in a manner so agreeable to the wishes expressed in them,

——So long may thy inspiring page, And bright example bless the rising age; Long in thy charming prison mayst thou stay, Late, very late, ascend the well-known way, And add new glories to the realms of day! At least Heav'n will not sure, this prayer deny! Short be my life's uncertain date, And earlier long than thine, the destin'd hour of fate! When e'er it comes, may'st thou be by, Support my sinking frame, and teach me how to die; Banish desponding nature's gloom, Make me to hope a gentle doom, And fix me all on joys to come. With swimming eyes I'll gaze upon thy charms, And clasp thee dying in my fainting arms; Then gently leaning on thy breast; Sink in soft slumbers to eternal rest. The ghastly form shall have a pleasing air, And all things smile, while Heav'n and thou art there.

This part of the Ode which we have quoted, contains the most tender breathings of affection, and has as much delicacy and softness in it, as we remember ever to have seen in poetry. As Mr. Rowe had not a robust constitution, so an intense application to study, beyond what the delicacy of his frame could bear, might contribute to that ill state of health which allayed the happiness of his married life, during the greater part of it. In the latter end of the year 1714, his weakness increased, and he seemed to labour under all the symptoms of a consumption; which distemper, after it had confined him some months, put a period to his most valuable life, at Hampstead, in 1715, when he was but in the 28th year of his age. The exquisite grief and affliction, which his amiable wife felt for the loss of so excellent a husband, is not to be expressed.

She wrote a beautiful Elegy on his death, and continued to the last moments of her life, to express the highest veneration and affection for his memory, and a particular regard and esteem for his relations. This Elegy of Mrs. Rowe, on the death of her much lamented husband, we shall here insert.

An ELEGY, &c.

In what soft language shall my thoughts get free, My dear Alexis, when I talk of thee? Ye Muses, Graces, all ye gentle train, Of weeping loves, O suit the pensive train! But why should I implore your moving art? 'Tis but to speak the dictates of my heart; And all that knew the charming youth will join, Their friendly sighs, and pious tears to mine; For all that knew his merit, must confess, In grief for him, there can be no excess. His soul was form'd to act each glorious part Of life, unstained with vanity, or art, No thought within his gen'rous mind had birth, But what he might have own'd to Heav'n and Earth. Practis'd by him, each virtue grew more bright, And shone with more than its own native light. Whatever noble warmth could recommend The just, the active, and the constant friend, Was all his own——But Oh! a dearer name, And softer ties my endless sorrow claim. Lost in despair, distracted, and forlorn, The lover I, and tender husband mourn. Whate'er to such superior worth was due, Whate'er excess the fondest passion knew; I felt for thee, dear youth; my joy, my care, My pray'rs themselves were thine, and only where Thou waft concern'd, my virtue was sincere. When e'er I begg'd for blessings on thy head, Nothing was cold or formal that I said; My warmest vows to Heav'n were made for thee, And love still mingled with my piety. O thou wast all my glory, all my pride! Thro' life's uncertain paths my constant guide; Regardless of the world, to gain thy praise Was all that could my just ambition raise. Why has my heart this fond engagement known? Or why has Heav'n dissolved the tye so soon? Why was the charming youth so form'd to move? Or why was all my soul so turn'd for love? But virtue here a vain defence had made, Where so much worth and eloquence could plead. For he could talk——'Twas extacy to hear, 'Twas joy! 'twas harmony to every ear. Eternal music dwelt upon his tongue, Soft, and transporting as the Muses song; List'ning to him my cares were charm'd to rest, And love, and silent rapture fill'd my breast: Unheeded the gay moments took their flight, And time was only measur'd by delight. I hear the lov'd, the melting accents still, And still the kind, the tender transport feel. Again I see the sprightly passions rise, And life and pleasure sparkle in his eyes. My fancy paints him now with ev'ry grace, But ah! the dear delusion mocks my fond embrace; The smiling vision takes its hasty flight, And scenes of horror swim before my sight. Grief and despair in all their terrors rise; A dying lover pale and gasping lies, Each dismal circumstance appears in view, The fatal object is for ever new.

* * * * *

For thee all thoughts of pleasure I forego, For thee my tears shall never cease to flow: For thee at once I from the world retire, To feed in silent shades a hopeless fire. My bosom all thy image shall retain; The full impression there shall still remain. As thou hast taught my constant heart to prove; The noblest height and elegance of love; That sacred passion I to thee confine; My spotless faith shall be for ever thine.

After Mr. Rowe's decease, and as soon as her affairs would permit, our authoress indulged her inconquerable inclination to solitude, by retiring to Froome in Somersetshire, in the neighbourhood of which place the greatest part of her estate lay. When she forsook the town, she determined to return no more but to spend the remainder of her life in absolute retirement; yet upon some few occasions she thought it her duty to violate this resolution. In compliance with the importunate request of the honourable Mrs. Thynne, she passed some months with her at London, after the death of her daughter the lady Brooke, and upon the decease of Mrs. Thynne herself, she could not dispute the commands of the countess of Hertford, who earnestly desired her company, to soften the severe affliction of the loss of so excellent a mother, and once or twice more, the power which this lady had over Mrs. Rowe, drew her, with an obliging kind of violence, to spend a few months with her in the country. Yet, even on these occasions she never quitted her retreat without sincere regret, and always returned to it, as soon as she could with decency disengage herself from the importunity of her noble friends. It was in this recess that she composed the most celebrated of her works, in twenty Letters from the Dead to the Living; the design of which is to impress the notion of the soul's immortality, without which all virtue and religion, with their temporal and eternal good conferences must fall to the ground.

* * * * *

Some who pretend to have no scruples about the being of a God, have yet doubts about their own eternal existence, though many authors have established it, both by christian and moral proofs, beyond reasonable contradiction. But since no means should be left untried, in a point of such awful importance, a virtuous endeavour to make the mind familiar with the thoughts of immortality, and contract as it were unawares, an habitual persuasion of it, by writings built on that foundation, and addressed to the affections, and imagination, cannot be thought improper, either as a doctrine or amusement: Amusement, for which the world makes so large a demand, and which generally speaking is nothing but an art of forgetting that immortality, the form, belief, and advantageous contemplation, of which this higher amusement would recommend.

In the year 1736, the importunity of some of Mrs. Rowe's acquaintance who had seen the History of Joseph in MS. prevailed on her to print it. The publication of this piece did not long precede the time of her death, to prepare for which had been the great business of her life; and it stole upon her according to her earnest wishes, in her beloved recess. She was favoured with a very uncommon strength of constitution, and had pass'd a long series of years with scarce any indisposition, severe enough to confine her to bed.——But about half a year before her decease, she was attacked with a distemper, which seemed to herself as well as others, attended with danger. Tho' this disorder found her mind not quite so serene and prepared to meet death as usual; yet when by devout contemplation, she had fortified herself against that fear and diffidence, from which the most exalted piety does not always secure us in such an awful hour, she experienced such divine satisfaction and transport, that she said with tears of joy, she knew not that she ever felt the like in all her life, and she repeated on this occasion Pope's beautiful soliloquy of the dying Christian to his soul.

An ELEGY, &c. The dying CHRISTIAN to his Soul.

I.

Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit this mortal frame; Trembling, hoping, lingr'ing, flying; Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. II.

Hark! they whisper; Angels say, Sister spirit, come away! What is this absorbs me quite, Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

III.

The world recedes; it disappears! Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring; Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?

She repeated the above, with an air of intense pleasure. She felt all the elevated sentiments of pious extasy and triumph, which breath in that exquisite piece of sacred poetry. After this threatening illness she recovered her usual good state of health; and though at the time of her decease she was pretty far advanced in years, yet her exact temperance, and the calmness of her mind, undisturbed with uneasy cares, and turbulent passions, encouraged her friends to hope a much longer enjoyment of so valuable a life, than it pleased heaven to allow them. On the day when she was seized with that distemper, which in a few hours proved mortal, she seemed to those about her to be in perfect health and vigour. In the evening about eight o'clock she converted with a friend, with her usual vivacity, mixed with an extraordinary chearfulness, and then retired to her chamber. About 10 her servant hearing some noise in her mistress's room, ran instantly into it, and found her fallen off the chair on the floor, speechless, and in the agonies of death. She had the immediate assistance of a physician and surgeon, but all the means used were without success, and having given one groan she expired a few minutes before two o'clock, on Sunday morning, February the 20th, 1736-7: Her disease was judged to be an apoplexy. A pious book was found lying open by her, as also some loose papers, on which she had written the following devout ejaculations,

O guide, and council, and protect my soul from sin! O speak! and let me know thy heav'nly will. Speak evidently to my list'ning soul! O fill my soul with love, and light of peace, And whisper heav'nly comfort to my soul! O speak celestial spirit in the strain Of love, and heav'nly pleasure to my soul.

In her cabinet were found letters to several of her friends, which she had ordered to be delivered to the persons to whom they were directed immediately after her decease.

* * * * *

Mrs. Rowe lived in friendship with people of the first fashion and distinction in life, by whom she was esteemed and respected. To enumerate them would be needless; let it suffice to remark, that her life was honoured with the intimacy, and her death lamented with the tears, of the countess of Hertford. Many verses were published to celebrate her memory, amongst which a copy written by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter are the best.

* * * * *

Thus lived honoured, and died lamented, this excellent poetess, whose beauty, though not her highest excellence, yet greatly contributed to set off her other more important graces to advantage; and whose piety will ever shine as a bright example to posterity, and teach them how to heighten the natural gifts of understanding, by true and unaffected devotion.——The conduct and behaviour of Mrs. Rowe might put some of the present race of females to the blush, who rake the town for infamous adventures to amuse the public. Their works will soon be forgotten, and their memories when dead, will not be deemed exceeding precious; but the works of Mrs. Rowe can never perish, while exalted piety and genuine goodness have any existence in the world. Her memory will be ever honoured, and her name dear to latest posterity.

* * * * *

Mrs. Rowe's Miscellaneous Works were published a few years ago at London, in octavo, and her Devotions were revised and published by the reverend Dr. Watts, under the title of Devout Exercises, to which that worthy man wrote a preface; and while he removes some cavils that wantonness and sensuality might make to the stile and manner of these Devotions, he shews that they contain the most sublime sentiments, the most refined breathings of the soul, and the most elevated and coelestial piety.

* * * * *

Mrs. Rowe's acquaintance with persons of fashion had taught her all the accomplishments of good-breeding, and elegance of behaviour, and without formality or affectation she practised in the most distant solitude, all the address and politeness of a court.

She had the happiest command over her passions, and maintained a constant calmness of temper, and sweetness of disposition, that could not be ruffled by adverse accidents. She was in the utmost degree an enemy to ill-natured satire and detraction; she was as much unacquainted with envy, as if it had been impossible for so base a passion to enter into the human mind. She had few equals in conversation; her wit was lively, and she expressed her thoughts in the most beautiful and flowing eloquence.

When she entered into the married state, the highest esteem and most tender affection appeared in her conduct to Mr. Rowe, and by the most gentle and obliging manner, and the exercise of every social and good natured virtue, she confirmed the empire she had gained over his heart. In short, if the most cultivated understanding, if an imagination lively and extensive, a character perfectly moral, and a soul formed for the most exalted exercises of devotion, can render a person amiable, Mrs. Rowe has a just claim to that epithet, as well as to the admiration of the lovers of poetry and elegant composition.

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The Revd. Dr. THOMAS YALDEN.

This Gentleman was born in the city of Exeter, and the youngest of six sons of Mr. John Yalden of Sussex. He received his education at a Grammar-school, belonging to Magdalen-College in Oxford. [A]In the year 1690 he was admitted a commoner of Magdalen-Hall, under Mr. John Fallen, who was esteemed an excellent tutor, and a very great master of logic, and the following year he was chosen scholar of Magdalen-College. Here he became a fellow-pupil with the celebrated Mr. Addison and Dr. Henry Sacheverel, and early contracted a particular friendship with those two gentlemen. This academical affection Mr. Addison preserved not only abroad in his travels, but also on his advancement to considerable employments at home, and kept the same easy and free correspondence to the very last, as when their fortunes were more on a level. This preservation of affection is rendered more singular, by Mr. Yalden's having espoused a very opposite interest to that of Mr. Addison, for he adhered to the High-Church party, and was suspected of an attachment to an exiled family, for which he afterwards was brought into very great trouble.

In the year 1700 he was admitted actual and perpetual fellow of Magdalen-College, and qualified himself the next year, by taking orders, as the founder's statutes require. After his admission he received two public marks of favour from that society: The first was a presentation to a living in Warwickshire, consistent with his fellowship; and the other, his being elected moral philosophy-reader, an office for life, endowed with a handsome stipend and peculiar privileges.

* * * * *

In 1706 he was received into the family of his noble and kind patron the duke of Beaufort; with whom he was in very great favour, having in many instances experienced his bounty and generosity. In the following year he compleated his academical degrees, by commencing doctor in divinity: He presented to the society their founder's picture in full length, which now hangs up in the public-hall; and afterwards he delivered in to the president a voluntary resignation of his fellowship, and moral philosophy-lecture. He was afterwards preferred to be rector of Chalten in Cleanville, two adjoining towns and rectories in Hampshire. He was elected by the president and governors of Bridewell, preacher of that hospital, upon the resignation of Dr. Atterbury, afterwards lord bishop of Rochester.

* * * * *

Having mentioned this prelate, it will be proper here to observe, that upon a suspicion of Dr. Yalden's being concerned with him in a plot to restore the exiled family; and for which the bishop was afterwards banished, he was seized upon by authority, and committed to prison. When he was examined before the council, concerning his correspondence and intimacy with Mr. Kelley the bishop's secretary; he did not deny his knowledge of, and correspondence with, him, but still persisted in averting, that no measures contrary to the constitution were ever canvassed between them. There was found in his pocket book, a copy of verses reflecting on the reigning family, and which might well bear the construction of a libel; but when he was charged with them, he denied that he ever composed such verses, or that the hand-writing was his own, and asserted his innocence in every circumstance relating to the plot. The verses in all probability were put into his pocket-book, by the same person, who with so much dexterity placed a treasonable paper in bishop Atterbury's close-stool, and then pretending to be the discoverer of it, preferred it against his lordship, as an evidence of his disaffection. The particulars of that memorable tryal are recorded in the Life of Atterbury, written by the authors of Biographia Britannica.—The heats raised by Atterbury's tryal subsiding, those who were suspected of being concerned with him, as no evidence appeared strong enough to convict them, were released.

Dr. Yalden was still favoured with the patronage of the generous duke of Beaufort, and his residence in that noble family recommended him to the acquaintance of many of the first quality and character in the kingdom, and as he was of a chearful temper, and of a pleasing and instructive conversation, he retained their friendship and esteem till his death, which happened the 16th of July, 1736, in the 66th year of his age.

His poetical works are chiefly these.

On the Conquest of Namure; A Pindaric Ode, inscribed to his most sacred and victorious majesty, folio 1695.

The Temple of Fame; a Poem to the memory of the most illustrious Prince, William Duke of Gloucester, folio 1700. On the late Queen's Accession to the Throne, a Poem.

AEsop at Court, or State Fables.

An Essay on the Character on Sir Willoughby Ashton, a Poem. Fol. 1704.

On the Mines of Sir Carbery Price, a Poem; occasioned by the Mine-adventure Company.

On the Death of Mr. John Partridge, Professor in Leather, and Astrologer.

Advice to a Lover.

To Mr. Watson, on his Ephemeris on the Caelestial Motions, presented to Queen Anne.

Against Immoderate Grief.

The Force of Jealousy.

An Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, 1693, set to music by Dr. Purcel.

A Hymn to the Morning in Praise of Light.

* * * * *

We shall extract the following stanza from this Hymn, as a specimen of his poetry.

Parent of day! whose beauteous beams of light Spring from the darksome womb of night, And midst their native horrors mow Like gems adorning of the negro's brow. Not Heaven's fair bow can equal thee, In all its gawdy drapery: Thou first essay of light, and pledge of day! Rival of shade! eternal spring! still gay! From thy bright unexhausted womb The beauteous race of days and seasons come. Thy beauty ages cannot wrong, But 'spite of time, thou'rt ever young. Thou art alone Heav'n's modest virgin light. Whose face a veil of blushes hide from human sight. At thy approach, nature erects her head; The smiling universe is glad; The drowsy earth and seas awake And from thy beams new life and vigour take. When thy more chearful rays appear, Ev'n guilt and women cease to fear; Horror, despair, and all the sons of night Retire before thy beams, and take their hasty flight. Thou risest in the fragrant east, Like the fair Phoenix from her balmy nest; But yet thy fading glories soon decay, Thine's but a momentary stay; Too soon thou'rt ravish'd from our fight, Borne down the stream of day, and overwhelm'd with night. Thy beams to thy own ruin haste, They're fram'd too exquisite to last: Thine is a glorious, but a short-liv'd state: Pity so fair a birth should yield so soon to fate;

Besides these pieces, this reverend gentleman has translated the second book of Ovid's Art of Love, with several other occasional poems and translations published in the third and fourth volumes of Tonson's Miscellanies.

The Medicine, a Tale in the second Volume of the Tatlers, and Mr. Partridge's Appeal to the Learned World, or a Further Account of the Manner of his Death, in Prose, are likewise written by him.

[Footnote A: Jacob.]

* * * * *



Mr. JOSEPH MITCHEL,

This gentleman was the son of a Stone-cutter in Scotland, and was born about the year 1684. He received an university education while he remained in that kingdom, and having some views of improving his fortune, repaired to the metropolis. We are not able to recover many particulars concerning this poet, who was never sufficiently eminent to excite much curiosity concerning him. By a dissipated imprudent behaviour he rendered those, who were more intimately acquainted with him, less sollicitous to preserve the circumstances of his life, which were so little to his advantage. We find him enjoying the favour of the earl of Stair, and Sir Robert Walpole, to whom he addresses some of his poems. He received so many obligations from the latter, and was so warm in his interest, that he obtained the epithet of Sir Robert Walpole's Poet, and for a great part of his life had an entire dependence on the bounty of that munificent statesman. Mr. Mitchel, who was a slave to his pleasures, and governed by every gust of irregular appetite, had many opportunities of experiencing the dangerous folly of extravagance, and the many uneasy moments which it occasions. Notwithstanding this, his conduct was never corrected, even when the means of doing it were in his power. At a time when Mr. Mitchel laboured under severe necessities, by the death of his wife's uncle several thousand pounds devolved to him, of which he had no sooner got possession, than he planned schemes of spending it, in place of discharging the many debts he had contracted. This behaviour, as it conveyed to his creditors no high idea of his honesty, so it obliged him to be perpetually skulking, and must consequently have embittered even those hours which he falsly dedidicated to pleasure; for they who live under a perpetual dread of losing their liberty, can enjoy no great comfort even in their most careless moments.

Of the many poems which Mr. Mitchel wrote, but few succeeded to any degree, nor indeed much deserved it. At a time when the politicians were engaged in settling the Land-Tax, and various opinions were offered concerning the ability of that branch of the commonwealth, so that a proper medium or standard might be fixed; he versified the Totness Address, much about the time of his present Majesty's accession to the throne; in which it is humourously proposed, that the landed interest should pay twenty shillings in the pound. This poem having a reference to a fashionable topic of conversation, was better received than most of his other pieces.

There was likewise a poem of Mr. Mitchel's, called The Shoe-heel, which was much read on account of the low humour it contains. He has addressed to Dr. Watts a poem on the subject of Jonah in the Whale's Belly. In the dedication he observes, 'That it was written for the advancement of true virtue and reformation of manners; to raise an emulation amongst our young poets to attempt divine composures, and help to wipe off the censures which the numerous labours of the muses are justly charged with. If (says he) it shall serve any of these purposes, I shall be satisfied, though I gain no reputation by it among those who read a new poem with no other view, than to pass a judgment on the abilities of the author.' When the antagonists of Pope were threatened with the publication of the Dunciad, Mr. Mitchel had some suspicion that he himself was to be stigmatized in it: conscious that he had never offended Mr. Pope, he took an opportunity to write to him upon that subject. He informed him, that he had been an admirer of his writings; that he declined all connexion with those men, who combined to reduce his reputation, and that when no offence was given, no resentment should be discovered. Mr. Pope, upon receiving this letter from Mitchel, protesting his innocence as to any calumny published against him, was so equitable as to strike him out of his Dunciad, in which, by misrepresentation he had assigned him a place.

* * * * *

Mr. Mitchel lived in good correspondence with many of the most eminent wits of the time, and was particularly honoured with the friendship of Aaron Hill, esq; a gentleman of so amiable a disposition, that whoever cultivated an intimacy with him, was sure to be a gainer. Once, when Mr. Mitchel was in distress, Mr. Hill, who could not perhaps conveniently relieve him by pecuniary assistance, gave him a higher instance of friendship, than could be shewn by money. He wrote a beautiful dramatic piece in two acts, called The Fatal Extravagant, in which he exposed the hideous vice of gaming. This little dramatic work is planned with such exquisite art, wrought up with so much tenderness, and the scenes are so natural, interesting and moving, that I know not if Mr. Hill has any where touched the passions with so great a mastery. This play met the success it deserved, and contributed to relieve Mr. Mitchel's necessities, who had honour enough, however, to undeceive the world, and acknowledge his obligations to Mr. Hill, by making mankind acquainted with the real author of The Fatal Extravagant. As this was a favour never to be forgotten, so we find Mr. Mitchel taking every proper occasion to express his gratitude, and celebrate his patron. Amongst the first of his poems, is An Ode, addressed to Mr. Hill, which is one of the best of his compositions. The two last stanza's are as follow,

Heedless of custom, and the vulgar breath, I toil for glory in a path untrod, Or where but few have dared to combat death, And few unstaggering carry virtue's load. Thy muse, O Hill, of living names, My first respect, and chief attendance claims. Sublimely fir'd, thou look'st disdainful down On trifling subjects, and a vile renown. In ev'ry verse, in ev'ry thought of thine, There's heav'nly rapture and design. Who can thy god-like Gideon view[A], And not thy muse pursue, Or wish, at least, such miracles to do?

Sure in thy breast the ancient Hebrew fire Reviv'd, glows hot, and blazes forth, How strong, how fierce the flames aspire! Of thy interior worth, When burning worlds thou sett'st before our eyes[B], And draw'st tremendous judgment from the flues! O bear me on thy seraph wing, And teach my weak obsequious muse to sing. To thee I owe the little art I boast; Thy heat first melted my co-genial frost. Preserve the sparks thy breath did fan, And by thy likeness form me into true poetic man.

Mr. Mitchel died in the year 1738. He seems to have been a poet of the third rate; he has seldom reached the sublime; his humour, in which he more succeeded, is not strong enough to last; his verification holds a state of mediocrity; he possessed but little invention, and if he was not a bad rhimester, he cannot be denominated a fine poet, for there are but few marks of genius in his writings. His poems were printed in two vol. 8vo. in the year 1729.

He wrote also, The Union of the Clans; or the Highland-Fair. A Scot's Opera. 'Twas acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, about the year 1730; but did not succeed.

[Footnote A: An epic poem by Aaron Hill, esq;]

[Footnote B: See The Judgment, a poem by Aaron Hill, esq;]

* * * * *



Mr. John Ozell,

This gentleman added considerably to the republic of letters by his numerous translations. He received the rudiments of his education from Mr. Shaw, an excellent grammarian, master of the free school at Ashby De la Zouch in Leicestershire: he finished his grammatical learning under the revd. Mr. Mountford of Christ's Hospital, where having attained the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew tongues, he was designed to be sent to the university of Cambridge, to be trained up for holy Orders. But Mr. Ozell, who was averse to that confinement which he must expect in a college life, chose to be sooner settled in the world, and be placed in a public office of accounts, having previously qualified himself by attaining a knowledge of arithmetic, and writing the necessary hands. This choice of an occupation in our author, could no other reasons be adduced, are sufficient to denominate him a little tinctured with dulness, for no man of genius ever yet made choice of spending his life behind a desk in a compting-house.

He still retained, however, an inclination to erudition, contrary to what might have been expected, and by much conversation with travellers from abroad, made himself matter of most of the living languages, especially the French, Italian, and Spanish, from all which, as well as from the Latin and Greek, he has favoured the world with a great[A] many translations, amongst which are the following French plays;

1. Britannicus and Alexander the Great, Two Tragedies from Racine.

2. The Litigant, a Comedy of 3 Acts; Mandated from the French of M. Racine, who took it from the Wasps of Aristophanes, 8vo. 1715. Scene in a city of Lower Normandy.

3. Manlius Capitolinus, a Tragedy from the French of M. La Fosse, 1715. When the earl of Portland was ambassador at the French court, this play was acted at Paris threescore nights running; the subject is related by Livy. This French author studied some time at Oxford, and, upon his return home, applied himself to dramatic poetry, in which he acquired great reputation. He died about the year 1713.

4. The Cid, a Tragedy from Corneille.

5. Cato of Utica, a Tragedy from M. Des Champs; acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields 1716, dedicated to Count Volkra his Excellency the Imperial Ambassador: to which is added a Parallel between this Play and Mr. Addison's Cato.

Besides these, Mr. Ozell has translated all Moliere's plays, which are printed in 6 vol. 12mo. and likewise a collection of some of the best Spanish and Italian plays, from Calderon, Aretin, Ricci, and Lopez de Vega. Whether any of these plays, translated from the Spanish, were ever printed, we cannot be positive. Mr. Ozell's translation of Moliere is far from being excellent, for Moliere was an author to whom none, but a genius like himself, could well do justice. His other works are

The History of Don Quixote, translated by several hands, published by Peter Motteux; revised and compared with the best edition, printed at Madrid, by Mr. Ozell, 5th edition, 1725.

Reflexions on Learning, by M. de Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambray, made English from the Paris Edition 12mo. 1718.

Common Prayer not Common Sense, in several Places of the Portugueze, Spanish, Italian, French, Latin, and Greek Translations of the English Liturgy; Being a Specimen of the Manifold Omissions, &c. in all, or most of the said Translations, some of which were printed at Oxford, and the rest at Cambridge, or London, 1722.

Vertot's Revolutions of Rome, translated by Mr. Ozell.

Logic, or the Art of Thinking; from the French of M. Nicole, 1723.

Mr. Ozell finished a Translation from the Portugueze, begun by Dr. Geddes, of the most celebrated, popish, ecclesiastical Romance; being the Life of Veronica of Milan, a book certified by the heads of the university of Conimbra in Portugal, to be revised by the Angels, and approved of by God.

* * * * *

These are the works of Mr. Ozell, who, if he did not possess any genius, has not yet lived in, vain, for he has rendered into English some very useful pieces, and if his translations are not elegant; they are generally pretty just, and true to their original.

Mr. Ozell is severely touched by Mr. Pope in the first book of the Dunciad, on what account we cannot determine; perhaps that satyrist has only introduced him to grace the train of his Dunces. Ozell was incensed to the last degree by this usage, and in a paper called The Weekly Medley, September 1729, he published the following strange Advertisement[B]. 'As to my learning, this envious wretch knew, and every body knows, that the whole bench of bishops, not long ago, were pleased to give me a purse of guineas for discovering the erroneous translations of the Common Prayer in Portugueze, Spanish, French, Italian, &c. As for my genius, let Mr. Cleland shew better verses in all Pope's works, than Ozell's version of Boileau's Lutrin, which the late lord Hallifax was so well pleased with, that he complimented him with leave to dedicate it to him, &c. &c. Let him shew better and truer poetry in The Rape of the Lock, than in Ozell's Rape of the Bucket, which, because an ingenious author happened to mention in the same breath with Pope's, viz.

'Let Ozell sing the Bucket, Pope the Lock,

'the little gentleman had like to have run mad; and Mr. Toland and Mr. Gildon publicly declared Ozell's Translation of Homer to be, as it was prior, so likewise superior, to Pope's.——Surely, surely, every man is free to deserve well of his country!'

John Ozell.

This author died about the middle of October 1743, and was buried in a vault of a church belonging to St. Mary Aldermanbury. He never experienced any of the vicissitudes of fortune, which have been so frequently the portion of his inspired brethren, for a person born in the same county with him, and who owed particular obligations to his family, left him a competent provision: besides, he had always enjoyed good places. He was for some years auditor-general of the city and Bridge accounts, and, to the time of his decease, auditor of the accounts of St. Paul's Cathedral, and St. Thomas's Hospital. Though, in reality, Ozell was a man of very little genius, yet Mr. Coxeter asserts, that his conversation was surprizingly pleasing, and that he had a pretty good knowledge of men and things. He possibly possessed a large share of good nature, which, when joined with but a tolerable understanding, will render the person, who is blessed with it, more amiable, than the most flashy wit, and the highest genius without it.

[Footnote A: Jacob.]

[Footnote B: Notes on the Dunciad.]



End of the Fourth Volume.