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diff --git a/4679-h/4679-h.htm b/4679-h/4679-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..134a436 --- /dev/null +++ b/4679-h/4679-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6702 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Lives of the English Poets, by Samuel Johnson</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .5em; + text-decoration: none;} + span.red { color: red; } + body {background-color: #ffffc0; } + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lives of the English Poets, by Samuel +Johnson, Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Lives of the English Poets + Addison, Savage, Swift + + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: May 31, 2020 [eBook #4679] +[This book was first released Feburary 26, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1888 Cassell & Company edition by Les +Bowler.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/cover.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<h1><span class="GutSmall">LIVES</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OF THE</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">English Poets</span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>Addison</b> +<b>Savage</b> <b>Swift</b></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">, </span><span +class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS</i></span><span class="GutSmall">, +</span><span class="GutSmall"><i>NEW YORK & +MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1888.</span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Johnson’s</span> “Lives of the +Poets” were written to serve as Introductions to a trade +edition of the works of poets whom the booksellers selected for +republication. Sometimes, therefore, they dealt briefly with men +in whom the public at large has long ceased to be interested. +Richard Savage would be of this number if Johnson’s account +of his life had not secured for him lasting remembrance. +Johnson’s Life of Savage in this volume has not less +interest than the Lives of Addison and Swift, between which it is +set, although Savage himself has no right at all to be remembered +in such company. Johnson published this piece of biography when +his age was thirty-five; his other lives of poets appeared when +that age was about doubled. He was very poor when the Life of +Savage was written for Cave. Soon after its publication, we are +told, Mr. Harte dined with Cave, and incidentally praised it. +Meeting him again soon afterwards Cave said to Mr. Harte, +“You made a man very happy t’other day.” +“How could that be?” asked Harte. “Nobody was +there but ourselves.” Cave answered by reminding him +that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to +Johnson, dressed so shabbily that he did not choose to +appear.</p> +<p>Johnson, struggling, found Savage struggling, and was drawn to +him by faith in the tale he told. We have seen in our own time +how even an Arthur Orton could find sensible and good people to +believe the tale with which he sought to enforce claim upon the +Tichborne baronetcy. Savage had literary skill, and he could +personate the manners of a gentleman in days when there were +still gentlemen of fashion who drank, lied, and swaggered into +midnight brawls. I have no doubt whatever that he was the son of +the nurse with whom the Countess of Macclesfield had placed a +child that died, and that after his mother’s death he found +the papers upon which he built his plot to personate the child, +extort money from the Countess and her family, and bring himself +into a profitable notoriety.</p> +<p>Johnson’s simple truthfulness and ready sympathy made it +hard for him to doubt the story told as Savage told it to him. +But when he told it again himself, though he denounced one whom +he believed to be an unnatural mother, and dealt gently with his +friend, he did not translate evil into good. Through all the +generous and kindly narrative we may see clearly that Savage was +an impostor. There is the heart of Johnson in the noble appeal +against judgment of the self-righteous who have never known the +harder trials of the world, when he says of Savage, “Those +are no proper judges of his conduct, who have slumbered away +their time on the down of plenty; nor will any wise man easily +presume to say, ‘Had I been in Savage’s condition, I +should have lived or written better than +Savage.’” But Johnson, who made large allowance +for temptations pressing on the poor, himself suffered and +overcame the hardest trials, firm always to his duty, true +servant of God and friend of man.</p> +<p>Richard Savage’s whole public life was built upon a lie. +His base nature foiled any attempt made to befriend him; and the +friends he lost, he slandered; Richard Steele among them. Samuel +Johnson was a friend easy to make, and difficult to lose. There +was no money to be got from him, for he was altogether poor in +everything but the large spirit of human kindness. Savage drew +largely on him for sympathy, and had it; although Johnson was too +clear-sighted to be much deceived except in judgment upon the +fraudulent claims which then gave rise to division of opinion. +The Life of Savage is a noble piece of truth, although it rests +on faith put in a fraud.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p> +<h2>ADDISON.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Addison</span> was born on the 1st +of May, 1672, at Milston, of which his father, Lancelot Addison, +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, which from the character of his +father may be reasonably supposed to have given him strong +impressions of piety, he was committed to the care of Mr. Naish +at Ambrosebury, and afterwards of Mr. Taylor at Salisbury.</p> +<p>Not to name the school or the masters of men illustrious for +literature, is a kind of historical fraud, by which honest fame +is injuriously diminished: I would therefore trace him through +the whole process of his education. In 1683, in the beginning of +his twelfth year, his father, being made Dean of Lichfield, +naturally carried his family to his new residence, and, I +believe, placed him for some time, probably not long, under Mr. +Shaw, then master of the school at Lichfield, father of the late +Dr. Peter Shaw. Of this interval his biographers have given no +account, and I know it only from a story of a <i>barring-out</i>, +told me, when I was a boy, by Andrew Corbet, of Shropshire, who +had heard it from Mr. Pigot, his uncle.</p> +<p>The practice of <i>barring-out</i> was a savage licence, +practised in many schools to the end of the last century, by +which the boys, when the periodical vacation drew near, growing +petulant at the approach of liberty, some days before the time of +regular recess, took possession of the school, of which they +barred the doors, 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; yet, if tradition may be +credited, he often struggled hard to force or surprise the +garrison. The master, when Pigot was a schoolboy, was <i>barred +out</i> at Lichfield; and the whole operation, as he said, was +planned and conducted by Addison.</p> +<p>To judge better of the probability of this story, I have +inquired when he was sent to the Chartreux; but, as he was not +one of those who enjoyed the founder’s benefaction, there +is no account preserved of his admission. At the school of the +Chartreux, to which he was removed either from that of Salisbury +or Lichfield, he pursued his juvenile studies under the care of +Dr. Ellis, and contracted that intimacy with Sir Richard Steele +which their joint labours have so effectually recorded.</p> +<p>Of this memorable friendship the greater praise must be given +to Steele. It is not hard to love those from whom nothing can be +feared; and Addison never considered Steele as a rival; but +Steele lived, as he confesses, under an habitual subjection to +the predominating genius of Addison, whom he always mentioned +with reverence, and treated with obsequiousness.</p> +<p>Addison, who knew his own dignity, could not always forbear to +show it, by playing a little upon his admirer; but he was in no +danger of retort; his jests were endured without resistance or +resentment. 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 felt with great sensibility the obduracy of his creditor, +but with emotions of sorrow rather than of anger.</p> +<p>In 1687 he was entered into Queen’s College in Oxford, +where, in 1689, the accidental perusal of some Latin verses +gained him the patronage of Dr. Lancaster, afterwards Provost of +Queen’s College; by whose recommendation he was elected +into Magdalen College as a demy, a term by which that society +denominates those who are elsewhere called scholars: young men +who partake of the founder’s benefaction, and succeed in +their order to vacant fellowships. Here he continued to cultivate +poetry and criticism, and grew first eminent by his Latin +compositions, which are indeed entitled to particular praise. He +has not confined himself to the imitation of any ancient author, +but has formed his style from the general language, such as a +diligent perusal of the productions of different ages happened to +supply. His Latin compositions seem to have had much of his +fondness, for he collected a second volume of the +“Musæ Anglicanæ” perhaps for a convenient +receptacle, in which all his Latin pieces are inserted, and where +his poem on the Peace has the first place. He afterwards +presented the collection to Boileau, 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 profession of regard was +probably the effect of his civility rather than approbation.</p> +<p>Three of his Latin poems are upon subjects on which perhaps he +would not have ventured to have written in his own language: +“The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes,” “The +Barometer,” and “A Bowling-green.” When +the matter is low or scanty, a dead language, in which nothing is +mean because nothing is familiar, affords great conveniences; and +by the sonorous magnificence of Roman syllables, the writer +conceals penury of thought, and want of novelty, often from the +reader and often from himself.</p> +<p>In his twenty-second year he first showed his power of English +poetry by some verses addressed to Dryden; and soon after +published a translation of the greater part of the Fourth Georgic +upon Bees; after which, says Dryden, “my latter swarm is +scarcely worth the hiving.” About the same time he +composed the arguments prefixed to the several books of +Dryden’s Virgil; and produced an Essay on the Georgics, +juvenile, superficial, and uninstructive, without much either of +the scholar’s learning or the critic’s penetration. +His next paper of verses contained a character of the principal +English poets, inscribed to Henry Sacheverell, who was then, if +not a poet, a writer of verses; as is shown by his version of a +small part of Virgil’s Georgics, published in the +Miscellanies; and a Latin encomium on Queen Mary, in the +“Musæ Anglicanæ.” These verses +exhibit all the fondness of friendship; but, on one side or the +other, friendship was afterwards too weak for the malignity of +faction. In this poem is a very confident and discriminate +character of Spenser, whose work he had then never read; so +little sometimes is criticism the effect of judgment. It is +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. By the influence of Mr. Montague, concurring, according +to Tickell, with his natural modesty, he was diverted from his +original design of entering into holy orders. Montague alleged +the corruption of men who engaged in civil employments without +liberal education; and declared that, though he was represented +as an enemy to the Church, he would never do it any injury but by +withholding Addison from it.</p> +<p>Soon after (in 1695) he wrote a poem to King William, with a +rhyming introduction addressed to Lord Somers. 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 his own, he procured, without intention, a very liberal +patronage to poetry. Addison was caressed both by Somers and +Montague.</p> +<p>In 1697 appeared his Latin verses on the Peace of Ryswick, +which he dedicated to Montague, and which was afterwards called, +by Smith, “the best Latin poem since the +‘Æneid.’” Praise must not be too +rigorously examined; but the performance cannot be denied to be +vigorous and elegant. Having yet no public employment, he +obtained (in 1699) a pension of three hundred pounds a year, that +he might be enabled to travel. He stayed a year at Blois, +probably to learn the French language and then proceeded in his +journey to Italy, which he surveyed with the eyes of a poet. +While he was travelling at leisure, he was far from being idle: +for he not only collected his observations on the country, but +found time to write his “Dialogues on Medals,” and +four acts of <i>Cato</i>. Such, at least, is the relation of +Tickell. Perhaps he only collected his materials and formed his +plan. Whatever were his other employments in Italy, he there +wrote the letter to Lord Halifax which is justly considered as +the most elegant, if not the most sublime, of his poetical +productions. But in about two years he found it necessary to +hasten home; being, as Swift informs us, distressed by indigence, +and compelled to become the tutor of a travelling squire, because +his pension was not remitted.</p> +<p>At his return he published his Travels, with a dedication to +Lord Somers. As his stay in foreign countries was short, his +observations are such as might be 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.</p> +<p>The most amusing passage of his book is his account of the +minute republic of San Marino; of many parts it is not a very +severe censure to say that they might have been written at home. +His elegance of language, and variegation of prose and verse, +however, gain upon the reader; and the book, though awhile +neglected, became in time so much the favourite of the public +that before it was reprinted it rose to five times its price.</p> +<p>When he returned to England (in 1702), with a meanness of +appearance which gave testimony of the difficulties to 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 so cultivated gives reason to believe that +little time was lost. But he remained not long neglected or +useless. The victory at Blenheim (1704) spread triumph and +confidence over the nation; and Lord Godolphin, lamenting to Lord +Halifax that it had not been celebrated in a manner equal to the +subject, desired him to propose it to some better poet. Halifax +told him that there was no encouragement for genius; that +worthless men were unprofitably enriched with public money, +without any care to find or employ those whose appearance might +do honour to their country. To this Godolphin replied that such +abuses should in time be rectified; and that, if a man could be +found capable of the task then proposed, he should not want an +ample recompense. Halifax then named Addison, but required that +the Treasurer should apply to him in his own person. Godolphin +sent the message by Mr. Boyle, afterwards Lord Carlton; and +Addison, having undertaken the work, communicated it to the +Treasury 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 Appeals.</p> +<p>In the following year he was at Hanover with Lord Halifax: and +the year after he was made Under Secretary of State, first to Sir +Charles Hedges, and in a few months more to the Earl of +Sunderland. About this time the prevalent taste for Italian +operas inclined him to try what would be the effect of a musical +drama in our own language. He therefore wrote 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—a woman without skill, or pretensions to skill, +in poetry or literature. His dedication was therefore an instance +of servile absurdity, to be exceeded only by Joshua +Barnes’s dedication of a Greek Anacreon to the Duke. 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 the most successful scenes. To this play +Addison supplied a prologue.</p> +<p>When the Marquis of Wharton was appointed Lord Lieutenant of +Ireland, Addison attended him as his secretary; 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 than +nominal, and the salary was augmented for his accommodation. +Interest and faction allow little to the operation of particular +dispositions or private opinions. Two men of personal characters +more opposite than those of Wharton and Addison could not easily +be brought together. Wharton was impious, profligate, and +shameless; without regard, or appearance of regard, to right and +wrong. Whatever is contrary to this may be said of Addison; but +as agents of a party they were connected, and how they adjusted +their other sentiments we cannot know.</p> +<p>Addison must, however, not be too hastily condemned. It is not +necessary to refuse benefits from a bad man when the acceptance +implies no approbation of his crimes; nor has the subordinate +officer any obligation to examine the opinions or conduct of +those under whom he acts, except that he may not be made the +instrument of wickedness. It is reasonable to suppose that +Addison counteracted, as far as he was able, the malignant and +blasting influence of the Lieutenant; and that at least by his +intervention some good was done, and some mischief prevented. +When he was in office he made a law to himself, as Swift has +recorded, never to remit his regular fees in civility to his +friends: “for,” said he, “I may have a hundred +friends; and if my fee be two guineas, I shall, by relinquishing +my right, lose two hundred guineas, and no friend gain more than +two; there is therefore no proportion between the good imparted +and the evil suffered.” He was in Ireland when +Steele, without any communication of his design, began the +publication of the <i>Tatler</i>; but he was not long concealed; +by inserting a remark on Virgil which Addison had given him he +discovered himself. It is, indeed, not easy for any man to write +upon literature or common life so as not to make himself known to +those with whom he familiarly converses, and who are acquainted +with his track of study, his favourite topic, his peculiar +notions, and his habitual phrases.</p> +<p>If Steele desired to write in secret, he was not lucky; a +single month detected him. His first <i>Tatler</i> was published +April 22 (1709); and Addison’s contribution appeared May +26. Tickell observes that the <i>Tatler</i> began and was +concluded without his concurrence. This is doubtless literally +true; but the work did not suffer much by his unconsciousness of +its commencement, or his absence at its cessation; for he +continued his assistance to December 23, and the paper stopped on +January 2. He did not distinguish his pieces by any signature; +and I know not whether his name was not kept secret till the +papers were collected into volumes.</p> +<p>To the <i>Tatler</i>, in about two months, succeeded the +<i>Spectator</i>: a series of essays of the same kind, but +written with less levity, upon a more regular plan, and published +daily. Such an undertaking showed the writers not to distrust +their own copiousness of materials or facility of composition, +and their performance justified their confidence. They found, +however, in their progress many auxiliaries. To attempt a single +paper was no terrifying labour; many pieces were offered, and +many were received.</p> +<p>Addison had enough of the zeal of party; but Steele had at +that time almost nothing else. The <i>Spectator</i>, in one of +the first papers, showed the political tenets of its authors; but +a resolution was soon taken of courting general approbation by +general topics, and subjects on which faction had produced no +diversity of sentiments—such as literature, morality, and +familiar life. To this practice they adhered with few deviations. +The ardour of Steele once broke out in praise of Marlborough; 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 <i>Spectator</i>.</p> +<p>To teach the minuter decencies and inferior duties, to +regulate the practice of daily conversation, to correct those +depravities which are rather ridiculous than criminal, and remove +those grievances which, if they produce no lasting calamities, +impress hourly vexation, was first attempted by Casa in his book +of “Manners,” and Castiglione in his +“Courtier:” two books yet celebrated in Italy for +purity and elegance, and which, if they are now less read, are +neglected only because they have effected that reformation which +their authors intended, and their precepts now are no longer +wanted. Their usefulness to the age in which they were written is +sufficiently attested by the translations which almost all the +nations of Europe were in haste to obtain.</p> +<p>This species of instruction was continued, and perhaps +advanced, by the French; among whom La Bruyère’s +“Manners of the Age” (though, as Boileau remarked, it +is written without connection) certainly deserves praise for +liveliness of description and justness of observation.</p> +<p>Before the <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i>, if the writers +for the theatre are excepted, England had no masters of common +life. No writers had yet undertaken to reform either the +savageness of neglect, or the impertinence of civility; to show +when to speak, or to be silent; how to refuse, or how to comply. +We had many books to teach us our more important duties, and to +settle opinions in philosophy or politics; but an <i>arbiter +elegantiarum</i>, (a judge of propriety) was yet wanting who +should survey the track of daily conversation, and free it from +thorns and prickles, which tease the passer, though they do not +wound him. For this purpose nothing is so proper as the frequent +publication of short papers, which we read, not as study, but +amusement. If the subject be slight, the treatise is short. The +busy may find time, and the idle may find patience. This mode of +conveying cheap and easy knowledge began among us in the civil +war, when it was much the interest of either party to raise and +fix the prejudices of the people. At that time appeared +<i>Mercurius Aulicus</i>, <i>Mercurius Rusticus</i>, and +<i>Mercurius Civicus</i>. It is said that when any title grew +popular, it was stolen by the antagonist, who by this stratagem +conveyed his notions to those who would not have received him 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 nowhere to be found.</p> +<p>These Mercuries were succeeded by L’Estrange’s +<i>Observator</i>; and that by Lesley’s <i>Rehearsal</i>, +and perhaps by others; but hitherto nothing had been conveyed to +the people, in this commodious manner, but controversy relating +to the Church or State; of which they taught many to talk, whom +they could not teach to judge.</p> +<p>It has been suggested that the Royal Society was instituted +soon after the Restoration to divert the attention of the people +from public discontent. The <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i> +had the same tendency; they were published at a time when two +parties—loud, restless, and violent, each with plausible +declarations, and each perhaps without any distinct termination +of its views—were agitating the nation; to minds heated +with political contest they supplied cooler and more inoffensive +reflections; 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 gay to unite merriment +with decency—an effect which they can never wholly lose +while they continue to be among the first books by which both +sexes are initiated in the elegances of knowledge.</p> +<p>The <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i> adjusted, like Casa, +the unsettled practice of daily intercourse by propriety and +politeness; and, like La Bruyère, exhibited the +“Characters 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 the +<i>Tatler</i> this is told by Steele in his last paper; and of +the <i>Spectator</i> by Budgell in the preface to +“Theophrastus,” a book which Addison has recommended, +and which he was suspected to have revised, if he did not write +it. Of those portraits which 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 two or three eminent writers, is to give them but a +small part of their due praise; they superadded literature and +criticism, and sometimes towered far above their predecessors; +and taught, with great justness of argument and dignity of +language, the most important duties and sublime truths. All these +topics were happily varied with elegant fictions and refined +allegories, and illuminated with different changes of style and +felicities of invention.</p> +<p>It is recorded by Budgell, that of the characters feigned or +exhibited in the <i>Spectator</i>, the favourite of Addison was +Sir Roger de Coverley, of whom he had formed a very delicate and +discriminate idea, which he would not suffer to be violated; and +therefore when Steele had shown him innocently picking up a girl +in the Temple, and taking her to a tavern, he drew upon himself +so much of his friend’s indignation that he was forced to +appease him by a promise of forbearing Sir Roger for the time to +come.</p> +<p>The reason which induced Cervantes to bring his hero to the +grave, <i>para mi sola nacio Don Quixote</i>, <i>y yo para +el</i>, made Addison declare, with undue vehemence of expression, +that he would kill Sir Roger; being of opinion that they were +born for one another, and that any other hand would do him +wrong.</p> +<p>It may be doubted whether Addison ever filled up his original +delineation. He describes his knight as having his imagination +somewhat warped; but of this perversion he has made very little +use. The irregularities in Sir Roger’s conduct seem not so +much the effects of a mind deviating from the beaten track of +life, by the perpetual pressure of some overwhelming idea, as of +habitual rusticity, and that negligence which solitary grandeur +naturally generates. The variable weather of the mind, the flying +vapours of incipient madness, which from time to time cloud +reason without eclipsing it, it requires so much nicety to +exhibit that Addison seems to have been deterred from prosecuting +his own design.</p> +<p>To Sir Roger (who, as a country gentleman, appears to be a +Tory, or, as it is gently expressed, an adherent to the landed +interest) is opposed Sir Andrew Freeport, a new man, a wealthy +merchant, zealous for the moneyed interest, and a Whig. Of this +contrariety of opinions, it is probable more consequences were at +first intended than could be produced when the resolution was +taken to exclude party from the paper. Sir Andrew does but +little, and that little seems not to have pleased Addison, who, +when he dismissed him from the club, changed his opinions. Steele +had made him, in the true spirit of unfeeling commerce, declare +that he “would not build an hospital for idle +people;” but at last he buys land, settles in the country, +and builds, not a manufactory, but an hospital for twelve old +husbandmen—for men with whom a merchant has little +acquaintance, and whom he commonly considers with little +kindness.</p> +<p>Of essays thus elegant, thus instructive, and thus +commodiously distributed, it is natural to suppose the +approbation general, and the sale numerous. I once heard it +observed that the sale may be calculated by the product of the +tax, related in the last number to produce more than twenty +pounds a week, and therefore stated at one-and-twenty pounds, or +three pounds ten shillings a day: this, at a halfpenny a paper, +will give sixteen hundred and eighty for the daily number. This +sale is not great; yet this, if Swift be credited, was likely to +grow less; for he declares that the <i>Spectator</i>, whom he +ridicules for his endless mention of the <i>fair sex</i>, had +before his recess wearied his readers.</p> +<p>The next year (1713), in which <i>Cato</i> came upon the +stage, was the grand climacteric of Addison’s reputation. +Upon the death of <i>Cato</i> he had, as is said, planned a +tragedy in the time of his travels, and had for several years the +four first acts finished, which were shown to such as were likely +to spread their admiration. They were seen by Pope and by Cibber, +who relates that Steele, when he took back the copy, told him, in +the despicable cant of literary modesty, that, whatever spirit +his friend had shown in the composition, he doubted whether he +would have courage sufficient to expose it 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 +that a stage-play might preserve it; and Addison was importuned, +in the name of the tutelary deities of Britain, to show his +courage and his zeal by finishing his design.</p> +<p>To resume his work he seemed perversely and unaccountably +unwilling; and by a request, which perhaps he wished to be +denied, desired Mr. Hughes to add a fifth act. Hughes supposed +him serious; and, undertaking the supplement, brought in a few +days some scenes for his examination; but he had in the meantime +gone to work himself, and produced half an act, which he +afterwards completed, but with brevity irregularly +disproportionate to the foregoing parts, like a task performed +with reluctance and hurried to its conclusion.</p> +<p>It may yet be doubted whether <i>Cato</i> was made public by +any change of the author’s purpose; for Dennis charged him +with raising prejudices in his own favour by false positions of +preparatory criticism, and with <i>poisoning the town</i> by +contradicting in the <i>Spectator</i> the established rule of +poetical justice, because his own hero, with all his virtues, was +to fall before a tyrant. The fact is certain; the motives we must +guess.</p> +<p>Addison was, I believe, sufficiently disposed to bar all +avenues against all danger. When Pope brought him the prologue, +which is properly accommodated to the play, there were these +words, “Britains, arise! be worth like this +approved;” meaning nothing more than—Britons, erect +and exalt yourselves to the approbation of public virtue. Addison +was frighted, lest he should be thought a promoter of +insurrection, and the line was liquidated to “Britains, +attend.”</p> +<p>Now “heavily in clouds came on the day, the great, the +important day,” when Addison was to stand the hazard of the +theatre. That there might, however, be left as little hazard as +was possible, on the first night Steele, as himself relates, +undertook to pack an audience. “This,” says Pope, +“had been tried for the first time in favour of the +<i>Distressed Mother</i>; and was now, with more efficacy, +practised for <i>Cato</i>.” The danger was soon over. +The whole nation was at that time on fire with faction. The Whigs +applauded every line in which liberty was mentioned, as a satire +on the Tories; and the Tories echoed every clap, to show that the +satire was unfelt. The story of Bolingbroke is well known; he +called Booth to his box, and gave him fifty guineas for defending +the cause of liberty so well against a perpetual dictator. +“The Whigs,” says Pope, “design a second +present, when they can accompany it with as good a +sentence.”</p> +<p>The play, supported thus by the emulation of factious praise, +was acted night after night for a longer time than, I believe, +the public had allowed to any drama before; and the author, as +Mrs. Porter long afterwards related, wandered through the whole +exhibition behind the scenes with restless and unappeasable +solicitude. When it was printed, notice was given that the Queen +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.”</p> +<p>Human happiness has always its abatements; the brightest +sunshine of success is not without a cloud. No sooner was +<i>Cato</i> offered to the reader than it was attacked by the +acute malignity of Dennis with all the violence of angry +criticism. Dennis, though equally zealous, and probably by his +temper more furious than Addison, for what they called liberty, +and though a flatterer of the Whig Ministry, could not sit quiet +at a successful play; but was eager to tell friends and enemies +that they had misplaced their admirations. The world was too +stubborn for instruction; with the fate of the censurer of +Corneille’s <i>Cid</i>, his animadversions showed his anger +without effect, and <i>Cato</i> continued to be praised.</p> +<p>Pope had now an opportunity of courting the friendship of +Addison by vilifying his old enemy, and could give resentment its +full play without appearing to revenge himself. He therefore +published “A Narrative of the Madness of John +Dennis:” a performance which left the objections to the +play in their full force, and therefore discovered more desire of +vexing the critic than of defending the poet.</p> +<p>Addison, who was no stranger to the world, probably saw the +selfishness of Pope’s friendship; and, resolving that he +should have the consequences of his officiousness to himself, +informed Dennis by Steele that he was sorry for the insult; and +that, whenever he should think fit to answer his remarks, he +would do it in a manner to which nothing could be objected.</p> +<p>The greatest weakness of the play is in the scenes of love, +which are said by Pope to have been added to the original plan +upon a subsequent review, in compliance with the popular practice +of the stage. Such an authority it is hard to reject; yet the +love is so intimately mingled with the whole action that it +cannot easily be thought extrinsic and adventitious; for if it +were taken away, what would be left? or how were the four acts +filled in the first draft? At the publication the wits +seemed proud to pay their attendance with encomiastic verses. The +best are from an unknown hand, which will perhaps lose somewhat +of their praise when the author is known to be Jeffreys.</p> +<p><i>Cato</i> had yet other honours. It was censured as a +party-play by a scholar of Oxford; and defended in a favourable +examination by Dr. Sewel. It was translated by Salvini into +Italian, and acted at Florence; and by the Jesuits of St. +Omer’s into Latin, and played by their pupils. Of this +version a copy was sent to Mr. Addison: it is to be wished that +it could be found, for the sake of comparing their version of the +soliloquy with that of Bland.</p> +<p>A tragedy was written on the same subject by Des Champs, a +French poet, which was translated with a criticism on the English +play. But the translator and the critic are now forgotten.</p> +<p>Dennis lived on unanswered, and therefore little read. Addison +knew the policy of literature too well to make his enemy +important by drawing the attention of the public upon a criticism +which, though sometimes intemperate, was often irrefragable.</p> +<p>While <i>Cato</i> was upon the stage, another daily paper, +called the <i>Guardian</i>, was published by Steele. To this +Addison gave great assistance, whether occasionally or by +previous engagement is not known. The character of +<i>Guardian</i> was too narrow and too serious: it might properly +enough admit both the duties and the decencies of life, but +seemed not to include literary speculations, and was in some +degree violated by merriment and burlesque. What had the +<i>Guardian</i> of the Lizards to do with clubs of tall or of +little men, with nests of ants, or with Strada’s +prolusions? Of this paper nothing is necessary to be said +but that it found many contributors, and that it was a +continuation of the <i>Spectator</i>, with the same elegance and +the same variety, till some unlucky sparkle from a Tory paper set +Steele’s politics on fire, and wit at once blazed into +faction. He was soon too hot for neutral topics, and quitted the +<i>Guardian</i> to write the Englishman.</p> +<p>The papers of Addison are marked in the <i>Spectator</i> by +one of the letters in the name of Clio, and in the +<i>Guardian</i> by a hand; whether it was, as Tickell pretends to +think, that he was unwilling to usurp the praise of others, or as +Steele, with far greater likelihood, insinuates, that he could +not without discontent impart to others any of his own. I have +heard that his avidity did not satisfy itself with the air of +renown, but that with great eagerness he laid hold on his +proportion of the profits.</p> +<p>Many of these papers were written with powers truly comic, +with nice discrimination of characters, and accurate observation +of natural or accidental deviations from propriety; but it was +not supposed that he had tried a comedy on the stage, till Steele +after his death declared him the author of <i>The Drummer</i>. +This, however, Steele did not know to be true by any direct +testimony, for when Addison put the play into his hands, he only +told him it was the work of a “gentleman in the +company;” and when it was received, as is confessed, with +cold disapprobation, he was probably less willing to claim it. +Tickell omitted it 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 it is now +printed with other poetry. Steele carried <i>The Drummer</i> to +the play-house, and afterwards to the press, and sold the copy +for fifty guineas.</p> +<p>To the opinion of Steele may be added the proof supplied by +the play itself, of which the characters are such as Addison +would have delineated, and the tendency 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 +theatrical praise.</p> +<p>He was not all this time an indifferent spectator of public +affairs. He wrote, as different exigences required (in 1707), +“The Present State of the War, and the Necessity of an +Augmentation;” which, however judicious, being written on +temporary topics, and exhibiting no peculiar powers, laid hold on +no attention, and has naturally sunk by its own weight into +neglect. This cannot be said of the few papers entitled the +<i>Whig Examiner</i>, in which is employed all the force of gay +malevolence and humorous satire. Of this paper, which just +appeared and expired, Swift remarks, with exultation, that +“it is now down among the dead men.” He might +well rejoice at the death of that which he could not have killed. +Every reader of every party, since personal malice is past, and +the papers which once inflamed the nation are read only as +effusions of wit, must wish for more of the <i>Whig +Examiners</i>; for on no occasion was the genius of Addison more +vigorously exerted, and on none did the superiority of his powers +more evidently appear. His “Trial of Count Tariff,” +written to expose the treaty of commerce with France, lived no +longer than the question that produced it.</p> +<p>Not long afterwards an attempt was made to revive the +<i>Spectator</i>, at a time indeed by no means favourable to +literature, when the succession of a new 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 actually 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 +<i>Spectator</i>, though it had not lessened his power of humour, +seems to have increased his disposition to seriousness: the +proportion of his religious to his comic papers is greater than +in the former series.</p> +<p>The <i>Spectator</i>, from its re-commencement, was published +only three times a week; and no discriminative marks were added +to the papers. To Addison, Tickell has ascribed twenty-three. The +<i>Spectator</i> 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, the product of his former studies, which +he now reviewed and completed: among these are named by Tickell +the Essays on Wit, those on the Pleasures of the Imagination, and +the Criticism on Milton.</p> +<p>When the House of Hanover took possession of the throne, it +was reasonable to expect that the zeal of Addison would be +suitably rewarded. Before the arrival of King George, he was made +Secretary to the Regency, and was required by his office to send +notice to Hanover that the Queen was dead, and that the throne +was vacant. To do this would not have been difficult to any man +but Addison, who was so overwhelmed with the greatness of the +event, and so distracted by choice of expression, that the lords, +who could not wait for the niceties of criticism, called Mr. +Southwell, a clerk in the House, and ordered him to despatch the +message. Southwell readily told what was necessary in the common +style of business, and valued himself upon having done what was +too hard for Addison. He was better qualified for the +<i>Freeholder</i>, a paper which he published twice a week, from +December 23, 1715, to the middle of the next year. This was +undertaken in defence of the established Government, sometimes +with argument, and sometimes with mirth. In argument he had many +equals; but his humour was singular and matchless. Bigotry itself +must be delighted with the “Tory Fox-hunter.” +There are, however, some strokes less elegant and less decent; +such as the “Pretender’s Journal,” in which one +topic of ridicule is his poverty. This mode of abuse had been +employed by Milton against King Charles II.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> “Jacobœi.<br +/> +Centum exulantis viscera Marsupii regis.”</p> +<p>And Oldmixon delights to tell of some alderman of London that +he had more money than the exiled princes; but that which might +be expected from Milton’s savageness, or Oldmixon’s +meanness, was not suitable to the delicacy of Addison.</p> +<p>Steele thought the humour of the <i>Freeholder</i> too nice +and gentle for such noisy times, and is reported to have said +that the Ministry made use of a lute, when they should have +called for a trumpet.</p> +<p>This year (1716) he married the Countess Dowager of Warwick, +whom he had solicited by a very long and anxious courtship, +perhaps with behaviour not very unlike that of Sir Roger to his +disdainful widow; and who, I am afraid, diverted herself often by +playing with his passion. He is said to have first known her by +becoming tutor to her son. “He formed,” said Tonson, +“the design of getting that lady from the time when he was +first taken into the family.” In what part of his +life he obtained the recommendation, or how long, and in what +manner he lived in the family, I know not. His advances at first +were certainly timorous, but grew bolder as his reputation and +influence increased; till at last the lady was persuaded to marry +him, on terms much like those on which a Turkish princess is +espoused, to whom the Sultan is reported to pronounce, +“Daughter, I give thee this man for thy slave.” +The marriage, if uncontradicted report can be credited, made no +addition to his happiness; it neither found them nor made them +equal. She always remembered her own rank, and thought herself +entitled to treat with very little ceremony the tutor of her son. +Rowe’s ballad of the “Despairing Shepherd” is +said to have been written, either before or after marriage, upon +this memorable pair; and it is certain that Addison has left +behind him no encouragement for ambitious love.</p> +<p>The year after (1717) he rose to his highest elevation, being +made Secretary of State. For this employment he might be justly +supposed qualified by long practice of business, and by his +regular ascent through other offices; but expectation is often +disappointed; it is universally confessed that he was unequal to +the duties of his place. In the House of Commons he could not +speak, and therefore was useless to the defence of the +Government. “In the office,” says Pope, “he +could not issue an order without losing his time in quest of fine +expressions.” What he gained in rank he lost in +credit; and finding by experience his own inability, was forced +to solicit his dismission, with a pension of fifteen hundred +pounds a year. His friends palliated this relinquishment, 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 life. He purposed a tragedy +on the death of Socrates: a story of which, as Tickell remarks, +the basis is narrow, and to which I know not how love could have +been appended. There would, however, have been no want either of +virtue in the sentiments, or elegance in the language. He engaged +in a nobler work, a “Defence of the Christian +Religion,” of which part was published after his death; and +he designed to have made a new poetical version of the +Psalms.</p> +<p>These pious compositions Pope imputed to a selfish motive, +upon the credit, as he owns, of Tonson; who, having quarrelled +with Addison, and not loving him, said that when he laid down the +Secretary’s office he intended to take orders and obtain a +bishopric; “for,” said he, “I always thought +him a priest in his heart.”</p> +<p>That Pope should have thought this conjecture of Tonson worth +remembrance, is a proof—but indeed, so far as I have found, +the only proof—that he retained some malignity from their +ancient rivalry. Tonson pretended to guess it; no other mortal +ever suspected it; and Pope might have reflected that a man who +had been Secretary of State in the Ministry of Sunderland knew a +nearer way to a bishopric than by defending religion or +translating the Psalms.</p> +<p>It is related that he had once a design to make an English +dictionary, and that he considered Dr. Tillotson as the writer of +highest authority. There was formerly sent to me by Mr. Locker, +clerk of the Leathersellers Company, who was eminent for +curiosity and literature, a collection of examples selected from +Tillotson’s works, as Locker said, by Addison. It came too +late to be of use, so I inspected it but slightly, and remember +it indistinctly. I thought the passages too short. Addison, +however, did not conclude his life in peaceful studies, but +relapsed, when he was near his end, to a political dispute.</p> +<p>It so happened that (1718–19) a controversy was agitated +with great vehemence between those friends of long continuance, +Addison and Steele. It may be asked, in the language of Homer, +what power or what cause should set them at variance. The subject +of their dispute was of great importance. The Earl 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, unless when an old family should be +extinct. To this the Lords would naturally agree; and the King, +who was yet little acquainted with his own prerogative, and, as +is now well known, almost indifferent to the possessions of the +Crown, had been persuaded to consent. The only difficulty was +found among the Commons, who were not likely to approve the +perpetual exclusion of themselves and their posterity. The Bill, +therefore, was eagerly opposed, and, among others, by Sir Robert +Walpole, whose speech was published.</p> +<p>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: +an act of authority violent enough, yet certainly legal, and by +no means to be compared with that contempt of national right with +which some time afterwards, by the instigation of Whiggism, the +Commons, chosen by the people for three years, chose themselves +for seven. But, whatever might be the disposition of the Lords, +the people had no wish to increase their power. The tendency of +the Bill, as Steele observed in a letter to the Earl of Oxford, +was to introduce an aristocracy: for a majority in the House of +Lords, so limited, would have been despotic and irresistible.</p> +<p>To prevent this subversion of the ancient establishment, +Steele, whose pen readily seconded his political passions, +endeavoured to alarm the nation by a pamphlet called “The +Plebeian.” To this an answer was published by +Addison, under the title of “The Old Whig,” in which +it is not discovered that Steele was then known to be the +advocate for the Commons. Steele replied by a second +“Plebeian;” and, whether by ignorance or by courtesy, +confined himself to his question, without any personal notice of +his opponent. Nothing hitherto was committed against the laws of +friendship or proprieties of decency; but controvertists cannot +long retain their kindness for each other. The “Old +Whig” answered “The Plebeian,” and could not +forbear some contempt of “little <i>Dicky</i>, whose trade +it was to write pamphlets.” Dicky, however, did not +lose his settled veneration for his friend, but contented himself +with quoting some lines of <i>Cato</i>, which were at once +detection and reproof. The Bill was laid aside during that +session, and Addison died before the next, in which its +commitment was rejected by two hundred and sixty-five to one +hundred and seventy-seven.</p> +<p>Every reader surely must regret that these two illustrious +friends, after so many years passed in confidence and endearment, +in unity of interest, conformity of opinion, and fellowship of +study, should finally part in acrimonious opposition. Such a +controversy was “bellum plusquam <i>civile</i>,” as +Lucan expresses it. Why could not faction find other +advocates? But among the uncertainties of the human state, +we are doomed to number the instability of friendship. Of this +dispute I have little knowledge but from the “Biographia +Britannica.” “The Old Whig” is not +inserted in Addison’s works: nor is it mentioned by Tickell +in his Life; why it was omitted, the biographers doubtless give +the true reason—the fact was too recent, and those who had +been heated in the contention were not yet cool.</p> +<p>The necessity of complying with times, and of sparing persons, +is the great impediment of biography. History may be formed from +permanent monuments and records: but lives can only be written +from personal knowledge, which is growing every day less, and in +a short time is lost for ever. What is known can seldom be +immediately told; and when it 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 folly, however they might delight +in the description, should be silently forgotten, than that, by +wanton merriment and unseasonable detection, a pang should be +given to a widow, a daughter, a brother, or a friend. As the +process of these narratives is now bringing me among my +contemporaries, I begin to feel myself “walking upon ashes +under which the fire is not extinguished,” and coming to +the time of which it will be proper rather to say “nothing +that is false, than all that is true.”</p> +<p>The end of this useful life was now approaching. Addison had +for some time been oppressed by shortness of breath, which was +now aggravated by a dropsy; 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. The purpose for which +the interview had been solicited was then discovered. Addison +told him that he had injured him; but that, if he recovered, he +would recompense him. What the injury was he did not explain, nor +did Gay ever know; but supposed that some preferment designed for +him had, by Addison’s intervention, been withheld.</p> +<p>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 endeavoured to reclaim him, but his +arguments and expostulations had no effect. One experiment, +however, remained to be tried; when he found his life near its +end, he directed the young lord to be called, and when he desired +with great tenderness to hear his last injunctions, told him, +“I have sent for you that you may see how a Christian can +die.” What effect this awful scene had on the earl, I +know not; he likewise died himself in a short time.</p> +<p>In Tickell’s excellent Elegy on his friend are these +lines:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“He taught us how to live; and, oh! too +high<br /> +The price of knowledge, taught us how to die”—</p> +<p>in which he alludes, as he told Dr. Young, to this moving +interview.</p> +<p>Having given directions to Mr. Tickell for the publication of +his works, and dedicated them on his death-bed to his friend Mr. +Craggs, he died June 17, 1719, at Holland House, leaving no child +but a daughter.</p> +<p>Of his virtue it is a sufficient testimony that the resentment +of party has transmitted no charge of any crime. He was not one +of those who are praised only after death; for his merit was so +generally acknowledged that Swift, having observed that his +election passed without a contest, adds that if he proposed +himself for King he would hardly have been refused. His zeal for +his party did not extinguish his kindness for the merit of his +opponents; when he was Secretary in Ireland, he refused to +intermit his acquaintance with Swift. Of his habits or external +manners, nothing is so often mentioned as that timorous or sullen +taciturnity, which his friends called modesty by too mild a name. +Steele mentions with great tenderness “that remarkable +bashfulness which is a cloak that hides and muffles merit;” +and tells us “that his abilities were covered only by +modesty, which doubles the beauties which are seen, and gives +credit and esteem to all that are concealed.” +Chesterfield affirms that “Addison was the most timorous +and awkward man that he ever saw.” And Addison, +speaking of his own deficiency in conversation, used to say of +himself that, with respect to intellectual wealth, “he +could draw bills for a thousand pounds, though he had not a +guinea in his pocket.” That he wanted current coin +for ready payment, and by that want was often obstructed and +distressed; and that he was often oppressed by an improper and +ungraceful timidity, every testimony concurs to prove; but +Chesterfield’s representation is doubtless hyperbolical. +That man cannot be supposed very unexpert in the arts of +conversation and practice of life who, without fortune or +alliance, by his usefulness and dexterity became Secretary of +State, and who died at forty-seven, after having not only stood +long in the highest rank of wit and literature, but filled one of +the most important offices of State.</p> +<p>The time in which he lived had reason to lament his obstinacy +of silence; “for he was,” says Steele, “above +all men in that talent called humour, and enjoyed it in such +perfection that I have often reflected, after a night spent with +him apart from all the world, that I had 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 and delightful than any other man ever +possessed.” This is the fondness of a friend; let us +hear what is told us by a rival. “Addison’s +conversation,” says Pope, “had something in it more +charming than I have found in any other man. But this was only +when familiar: before strangers, or perhaps a single stranger, he +preserved his dignity by a stiff silence.” This +modesty was by no means inconsistent with a very high opinion of +his own merit. He demanded to be the first name in modern wit; +and, with Steele to echo him, used to depreciate Dryden, whom +Pope and Congreve defended against them. There is no reason to +doubt that he suffered too much pain from the prevalence of +Pope’s poetical reputation; nor is it without strong reason +suspected that by some disingenuous acts he endeavoured to +obstruct it; Pope was not the only man whom he insidiously +injured, though the only man of whom he could be afraid. His own +powers were such as might have satisfied him with conscious +excellence. Of very extensive learning he has indeed given no +proofs. He seems 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” show that +he had perused the works with great diligence and skill. The +abundance of his own mind left him little indeed of adventitious +sentiments; his wit always could suggest what the occasion +demanded. He had read with critical eyes the important volume of +human life, and knew the heart of man, from the depths of +stratagem to the surface of affectation. What he knew he could +easily communicate. “This,” says Steele, “was +particular in this writer—that when he had taken his +resolution, or made his plan for what he designed to write, he +would walk about a room and dictate it into language with as much +freedom and ease as any one could write it down, and attend to +the coherence and grammar of what he dictated.”</p> +<p>Pope, who can be less suspected of favouring his memory, +declares that he wrote very fluently, but was slow and scrupulous +in correcting; that many of his <i>Spectators</i> were written +very fast, and sent immediately to the press; and that it seemed +to be for his advantage not to have time for much revisal. +“He would alter,” says Pope, “anything to +please his friends before publication, but would not re-touch his +pieces afterwards; and I believe not one word of <i>Cato</i> to +which I made an objection was suffered to stand.”</p> +<p>The last line of <i>Cato</i> is Pope’s, having been +originally written—</p> +<p class="poetry">“And oh! ’twas this that ended +Cato’s life.”</p> +<p>Pope might have made more objections to the six concluding +lines. In the first couplet the words “from hence” +are improper; and the second line is taken from Dryden’s +Virgil. Of the next couplet, the first verse, being included in +the second, is therefore useless; and in the third <i>Discord</i> +is made to produce <i>Strife</i>.</p> +<p>Of the course of Addison’s familiar day, before his +marriage, Pope has given a detail. He had in the house with him +Budgell, and perhaps Philips. His chief companions were Steele, +Budgell, Philips [Ambrose], Carey, Davenant, and Colonel Brett. +With one or other of these he always breakfasted. He studied all +morning; then dined at a tavern; and went afterwards to +Button’s. Button had been a servant in the Countess of +Warwick’s family, who, under the patronage of Addison, kept +a coffee-house on the south side of Russell Street, about two +doors from Covent Garden. Here it was that the wits of that time +used to assemble. It is said when Addison had suffered any +vexation from the countess, he withdrew the company from +Button’s house. From the coffee-house he went again to a +tavern, where he often sat late, and drank too much wine. In the +bottle discontent seeks for comfort, cowardice for courage, and +bashfulness for confidence. It is not unlikely that Addison was +first seduced to excess by the manumission which he obtained from +the servile timidity of his sober hours. He that feels oppression +from the presence of those to whom he knows himself superior will +desire to set loose his powers of conversation; and who that ever +asked succours from Bacchus was able to preserve himself from +being enslaved by his auxiliary?</p> +<p>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 +parson in a tie-wig, 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 Mandeville.</p> +<p>From any minute knowledge of his familiar manners the +intervention of sixty years has now debarred us. Steele once +promised Congreve and the public a complete description of his +character; but the promises of authors are like the vows of +lovers. Steele thought no more on his design, or thought on it +with anxiety that at last disgusted him, and left his friend in +the hands of Tickell.</p> +<p>One slight lineament of his character Swift has preserved. It +was his practice, when he found any man invincibly wrong, to +flatter his opinions by acquiescence, and sink him yet deeper in +absurdity. This artifice of mischief was admired by Stella; and +Swift seems to approve her admiration. His works will supply some +information. It appears, from the various pictures of the world, +that, with all his bashfulness, he had conversed with many +distinct classes of men, had surveyed their ways with very +diligent observation, and marked with great acuteness the effects +of different modes of life. He was a man in whose presence +nothing reprehensible was out of danger; quick in discerning +whatever was wrong or ridiculous, and not unwilling to expose it. +“There are,” says Steele, “in his writings many +oblique strokes upon some of the wittiest men of the +age.” His delight was more to excite merriment than +detestation; and he detects follies rather than crimes. If any +judgment be made from his books of his moral character, nothing +will be found but purity and excellence. Knowledge of mankind, +indeed, less extensive than that of Addison, will show that to +write, and to live, are very different. Many who praise virtue, +do no more than praise it. Yet it is reasonable to believe that +Addison’s professions and practice were at no great +variance, since amidst that storm of faction in which most of his +life was passed, though his station made him conspicuous, and his +activity made him formidable, the character given him by his +friends was never contradicted by his enemies. Of those with whom +interest or opinion united him he had not only the esteem, but +the kindness; and of others whom the violence of opposition drove +against him, though he might lose the love, he retained the +reverence.</p> +<p>It is justly observed by Tickell that he employed wit on the +side of virtue and religion. He not only made the proper use of +wit himself, but taught it to others; and from his time it has +been generally subservient to the cause of reason and of truth. +He has dissipated the prejudice that had long connected gaiety +with vice, and easiness of manners with laxity of principles. He +has restored virtue to its dignity, and taught innocence not to +be ashamed. This is an elevation of literary character +“above all Greek, above all Roman fame.” No +greater felicity can genius attain than that of having purified +intellectual pleasure, separated mirth from indecency, and wit +from licentiousness; of having taught a succession of writers to +bring elegance and gaiety to the aid of goodness; and, if I may +use expressions yet more awful, of having “turned many to +righteousness.”</p> +<p>Addison, in his life and for some time afterwards, was +considered by a greater part of readers as supremely excelling +both in poetry and criticism. Part of his reputation may be +probably ascribed to the advancement of his fortune; when, as +Swift observes, he became a statesman, and saw poets waiting at +his levée, it was no wonder that praise was accumulated +upon him. Much likewise may be more honourably ascribed to his +personal character: he who, if he had claimed it, might have +obtained the diadem, was not likely to be denied the laurel. But +time quickly puts an end to artificial and accidental fame; and +Addison is to pass through futurity protected only by his genius. +Every name which kindness or interest once raised too high is in +danger, lest the next age should, by the vengeance of criticism, +sink it in the same proportion. A great writer has lately styled +him “an indifferent poet, and a worse critic.” +His poetry is first to be considered; of which it must be +confessed that it has not often those felicities of diction which +give lustre to sentiments, or that vigour of sentiment that +animates diction: there is little of ardour, vehemence, or +transport; there is very rarely the awfulness of grandeur, and +not very often the splendour of elegance. He thinks justly, but +he thinks faintly. This is his general character; to which, +doubtless, many single passages will furnish exception. Yet, if +he seldom reaches supreme excellence, he rarely sinks into +dulness, and is still more rarely entangled in absurdity. He did +not trust his powers enough to be negligent. There is in most of +his compositions a calmness and equability, deliberate and +cautious, sometimes with little that delights, but seldom with +anything that offends. Of this kind seem to be his poems to +Dryden, to Somers, and to the King. His ode on St. Cecilia has +been imitated by Pope, and has something in it of Dryden’s +vigour. Of his Account of the English Poets he used to speak as a +“poor thing;” but it is not worse than his usual +strain. He has said, not very judiciously, in his character of +Waller—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Thy verse could show even +Cromwell’s innocence,<br /> +And compliment the storms that bore him hence.<br /> +Oh! had thy Muse not come an age too soon,<br /> +But seen great Nassau on the British throne,<br /> +How had his triumph glittered in thy page!”</p> +<p>What is this but to say that he who could compliment Cromwell +had been the proper poet for King William? Addison, +however, printed the piece.</p> +<p>The Letter from Italy has been always praised, but has never +been praised beyond its merit. It is more 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, of which notice may properly be +taken:—</p> +<p +class="poetry"> “Fired +with that name—<br /> +I bridle in my struggling Muse with pain,<br /> +That longs to launch into a nobler strain.”</p> +<p>To <i>bridle a goddess</i> is no very delicate idea; but why +must she be <i>bridled</i>? because she <i>longs to launch</i>; +an act which was never hindered by a <i>bridle</i>: and whither +will she <i>launch</i>? into a <i>nobler strain</i>. She is in +the first line a <i>horse</i>, in the second a <i>boat</i>; and +the care of the poet is to keep his <i>horse</i> or his +<i>boat</i> from <i>singing</i>.</p> +<p>The next composition is the far-famed “Campaign,” +which Dr. Warton has termed a “Gazette in Rhyme,” +with harshness not often used by the good-nature of his +criticism. Before a censure so severe is admitted, let us +consider that war is a frequent subject of poetry, and then +inquire who has described it with more justice and force. Many of +our own writers tried their powers upon this year of victory: yet +Addison’s is confessedly the best performance; his poem is +the work of a man not blinded by the dust of learning; his images +are not borrowed merely from books. The superiority which he +confers upon his hero is not personal prowess and “mighty +bone,” but deliberate intrepidity, a calm command of his +passions, and the power of consulting his own mind in the midst +of danger. The rejection and contempt of fiction is rational and +manly. It may be observed that the last line is imitated by +Pope:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Marlb’rough’s exploits +appear divinely bright—<br /> +Raised of themselves their genuine charms they boast,<br /> +And those that paint them truest, praise them most.”</p> +<p>This Pope had in his thoughts, but, not knowing how to use +what was not his own, he spoiled the thought when he had borrowed +it:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“The well-sung woes shall soothe my +pensive ghost;<br /> +He best can paint them who shall feel them most.”</p> +<p>Martial exploits may be <i>painted</i>; perhaps <i>woes</i> +may be <i>painted</i>; but they are surely not <i>painted</i> by +being <i>well sung</i>: it is not easy to paint in song, or to +sing in colours.</p> +<p>No passage in the “Campaign” has been more often +mentioned than the simile of the angel, which is said in the +<i>Tatler</i> to be “one of the noblest thoughts that ever +entered into the heart of man,” and is therefore worthy of +attentive consideration. Let it be first inquired whether it be a +simile. A poetical simile is the discovery of likeness between +two actions in their general nature dissimilar, or of causes +terminating by different operations in some resemblance of +effect. But the mention of another like consequence from a like +cause, or of a like performance by a like agency, is not a +simile, but an exemplification. It is not a simile to say that +the Thames waters fields, as the Po waters fields; or that as +Hecla vomits flames in Iceland, so Ætna vomits flames in +Sicily. When Horace says of Pindar that he pours his violence and +rapidity of verse, as a river swollen with rain rushes from the +mountain; or of himself, that his genius wanders in quest of +poetical decorations, as the bee wanders to collect honey; he, in +either case, produces a simile: the mind is impressed with the +resemblance of things generally unlike, as unlike as intellect +and body. But if Pindar had been described 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 would +have exhibited almost identity; he would have given the same +portraits with different names. In the poem now examined, when +the English are represented as gaining a fortified pass by +repetition of attack and perseverance of resolution, their +obstinacy of courage and vigour of onset are well illustrated by +the sea that breaks, with incessant battery, the dykes of +Holland. This is a simile. But when Addison, having celebrated +the beauty of Marlborough’s person, tells us that +“Achilles thus was formed of every grace,” here is no +simile, but a mere exemplification. A simile may be compared to +lines converging at a point, and is more excellent as the lines +approach from greater distance: an exemplification may be +considered as two parallel lines, which run on together without +approximation, never far separated, and never joined.</p> +<p>Marlborough is so like the angel in the poem that the action +of both is almost the same, and performed by both in the same +manner. Marlborough “teaches the 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.” The lines on +Marlborough are just and noble, but the simile gives almost the +same images a second time. But perhaps this thought, though +hardly a simile, was remote from vulgar conceptions, and required +great labour and research, or dexterity of application. Of this +Dr. Madden, a name which Ireland ought to honour, once gave me +his opinion. “If I had set,” said he, “ten +schoolboys to write on the battle of Blenheim, and eight had +brought me the angel, I should not have been +surprised.”</p> +<p>The opera of <i>Rosamond</i>, though it is seldom mentioned, +is one of the first of Addison’s compositions. The subject +is well chosen, the fiction is pleasing, and the praise of +Marlborough, for which the scene gives an opportunity, is, what +perhaps every human excellence must be, the product of good luck +improved by genius. The thoughts are sometimes great, and +sometimes tender; the versification is easy and gay. There is +doubtless some advantage in the shortness of the lines, which +there is little temptation to load with expletive epithets. The +dialogue seems commonly better than the songs. The two comic +characters of Sir Trusty and Grideline, 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 grossly absurd. The whole +drama is airy and elegant; engaging in its process, and pleasing +in its conclusion. If Addison had cultivated the lighter parts of +poetry, he would probably have excelled.</p> +<p>The tragedy of <i>Cato</i>, which, contrary to the rule +observed in selecting the works of other poets, has by the weight +of its character forced its way into the late collection, is +unquestionably the noblest production of Addison’s genius. +Of a work so much read, it is difficult to say anything new. +About things on which the public thinks long, it commonly attains +to think right; and of <i>Cato</i> it has been not unjustly +determined that it is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama, +rather a succession of just sentiments in elegant language than a +representation of natural affections, or of any state probable or +possible in human life. Nothing here “excites or assuages +emotion:” here is “no magical power of raising +phantastic terror or wild anxiety.” The events are +expected without solicitude, and are remembered without joy or +sorrow. Of the agents we have no care; we consider not what they +are doing, or what they are suffering; we wish only to know what +they have to say. <i>Cato</i> is a being above our solicitude; a +man of whom the gods take care, and whom we leave to their care +with heedless confidence. To the rest neither gods nor men can +have much attention; for there is not one amongst them that +strongly attracts either affection or esteem. But they are made +the vehicles of such sentiments and such expression that there is +scarcely a scene in the play which the reader does not wish to +impress upon his memory.</p> +<p>When <i>Cato</i> was shown to Pope, he advised the author to +print it, without any theatrical exhibition, supposing that it +would be read more favourably than heard. Addison declared +himself of the same opinion, but urged the importunity of his +friends for its appearance on the stage. The emulation of parties +made it successful beyond expectation; and its success has +introduced or confirmed among us the use of dialogue too +declamatory, of unaffecting elegance, and chill philosophy. The +universality of applause, however it might quell the censure of +common mortals, had no other effect than to harden Dennis in +fixed dislike; but his dislike was not merely capricious. He +found and showed many faults; he showed them indeed with anger, +but he found them indeed with acuteness, such as ought to rescue +his criticism from oblivion; though, at last, it will have no +other life than it derives from the work which it endeavours to +oppress. Why he pays no regard to the opinion of the audience, he +gives his reason by remarking that—</p> +<p>“A deference is to be paid to a general applause when it +appears that the applause is natural and spontaneous; but that +little regard is to be had to it when it is affected or +artificial. Of all the tragedies which in his memory have had +vast and violent runs, not one has been excellent, few have been +tolerable, most have been scandalous. When 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 expectation, or delusive +imagination, or invincible prepossession; that such an audience +is liable to receive the impressions which the poem shall +naturally make on them, and to judge by their own reason, and +their own judgments; and that reason and judgment are calm and +serene, not formed by nature to make proselytes, and to control +and lord it over the imagination of others. But that when an +author writes a tragedy who knows he has neither genius nor +judgment, he has recourse to the making a party, and he +endeavours to make up in industry what is wanting in talent, and +to supply by poetical craft the absence of poetical art: that +such an author is humbly contented to raise men’s passions +by a plot without doors, since he despairs of doing it by that +which he brings upon the stage. That party and passion, and +prepossession, are clamorous and tumultuous things, and so much +the more clamorous and tumultuous by how much the more erroneous: +that they domineer and tyrannise over the imaginations of persons +who want judgment, and sometimes too of those who have it, and, +like a fierce and outrageous torrent, bear down all opposition +before them.”</p> +<p>He then condemns the neglect of poetical justice, which is one +of his favourite principles:—</p> +<p>“’Tis certainly the duty of every tragic poet, by +the exact distribution of poetical justice, to imitate the Divine +Dispensation, and to inculcate a particular Providence. +’Tis true, indeed, upon the stage of the world, the wicked +sometimes prosper and the guiltless suffer; but that is permitted +by the Governor of the World, to show, from the attribute of His +infinite justice, that there is a compensation in futurity, to +prove the immortality of the human soul, and the certainty of +future rewards and punishments. But the poetical persons in +tragedy exist no longer than the reading or the representation; +the whole extent of their enmity is circumscribed by those; and +therefore, during that reading or representation, according to +their merits or demerits, they must be punished or rewarded. If +this is not done, there is no impartial distribution of poetical +justice, no instructive lecture of a particular Providence, and +no imitation of the Divine Dispensation. And yet the author of +this tragedy does not only run counter to this, in the fate of +his principal character; but everywhere, throughout it, makes +virtue suffer, and vice triumph: for not only Cato is vanquished +by Cæsar, but the treachery and perfidiousness of Syphax +prevail over the honest simplicity and the credulity of Juba; and +the sly subtlety and dissimulation of Portius over the generous +frankness and open-heartedness of Marcus.”</p> +<p>Whatever pleasure there may be in seeing crimes punished and +virtue rewarded, yet, since wickedness often prospers in real +life, the poet is certainly at liberty to give it prosperity on +the stage. For if poetry has an imitation of reality, how are its +laws broken by exhibiting the world in its true form? The +stage may sometimes gratify our wishes; but if it be truly the +“<i>mirror of life</i>,” it ought to show us +sometimes what we are to expect.</p> +<p>Dennis objects to the characters that they are not natural or +reasonable; but as heroes and heroines are not beings that are +seen every day, it is hard to find upon what principles their +conduct shall be tried. It is, however, not useless to consider +what he says of the manner in which Cato receives the account of +his son’s death:—</p> +<p>“Nor is the grief of Cato, in the fourth act, one jot +more in nature than that of his son and Lucia in the third. Cato +receives the news of his son’s death, not only with dry +eyes, but with a sort of satisfaction; and in the same page sheds +tears for the calamity of his country, and does the same thing in +the next page upon the bare apprehension of the danger of his +friends. Now, since the love of one’s country is the love +of one’s countrymen, as I have shown upon another occasion, +I desire to ask these questions:—Of all our countrymen, +which do we love most, those whom we know, or those whom we know +not? And of those whom we know, 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 our relations, for which have we most +tenderness, for those who are near to us, or for those who are +remote? And of our near relations, which are the nearest, +and consequently the dearest to us, our offspring, or +others? Our offspring, most certainly; as Nature, or in +other words Providence, has wisely contrived for the preservation +of mankind. Now, does it not follow, from what has been said, +that for a man to receive the news of his son’s death with +dry eyes, and to weep at the same time for the calamities of his +country, is a wretched affectation and a miserable +inconsistency? 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 so dear to us, and at the same time to shed +tears for those for whose sakes our country is not a name so dear +to us?”</p> +<p>But this formidable assailant is less resistible when he +attacks the probability of the action and the reasonableness of +the plan. Every critical reader must remark that Addison has, +with a scrupulosity almost unexampled on the English stage, +confined himself in time to a single day, and in place to +rigorous unity. The scene never changes, and the whole action of +the play passes in the great hall of Cato’s house at Utica. +Much, therefore, is done in the hall for which any other place +had been more fit; and this impropriety affords Dennis many hints +of merriment and opportunities of triumph. The passage is long; +but as such disquisitions are not common, and the objections are +skilfully formed and vigorously urged, those who delight in +critical controversy will not think it tedious:—</p> +<p>“Upon the departure of Portius, Sempronius makes but one +soliloquy, and immediately in comes Syphax, and then the two +politicians are at it immediately. They lay their heads together, +with their snuff-boxes in their hands, as Mr. Bayes has it, and +feague it away. But, in the midst of that wise scene, Syphax +seems to give a seasonable caution to Sempronius:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Syph</i>. But is it true, +Sempronius, that your senate<br /> +Is called together? Gods! thou must be cautious;<br /> +Cato has piercing eyes.’</p> +<p>“There is a great deal of caution shown, indeed, in +meeting in a governor’s own hall to carry on their plot +against him. Whatever opinion they have of his eyes, I suppose +they have none of his ears, or they would never have talked at +this foolish rate so near:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘Gods! thou must be +cautious.’</p> +<p>Oh! yes, very cautious: for if Cato should overhear you, and +turn you off for politicians, Cæsar would never take +you.</p> +<p>“When Cato, Act II., turns the senators out of the hall +upon pretence of acquainting Juba with the result of their +debates, he appears to me to do a thing which is neither +reasonable nor civil. Juba might certainly 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 way for another, and that is to give Juba an +opportunity to demand Marcia of her father. But the quarrel and +rage of Juba and Syphax, in the same act; the invectives of +Syphax against the Romans and Cato; the advice that he gives Juba +in her father’s hall to 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, +at least some of his guards or domestics must necessarily be +supposed to be within hearing; is a thing that is so far from +being probable, that it is hardly possible.</p> +<p>“Sempronius, in the second act, comes back once more in +the same morning to the governor’s hall to carry on the +conspiracy with Syphax against the governor, his country, and his +family: which is so stupid that it is below the wisdom of the +O—s, the Macs, and the Teagues; even Eustace Commins +himself would never have gone to Justice-hall to have conspired +against the Government. If officers at Portsmouth should lay +their heads together in order to the carrying off J— +G—’s niece or daughter, would they meet in J— +G—’s hall to carry on that conspiracy? There +would be no necessity for their meeting there—at least, +till they came to the execution of their plot—because there +would be other places to meet in. There would be no probability +that they should meet there, because there would be places more +private and more commodious. Now there ought to be nothing in a +tragical action but what is necessary or probable.</p> +<p>“But treason is not the only thing that is carried on in +this hall; that, and love and philosophy take their turns in it, +without any manner of necessity or probability occasioned by the +action, as duly and as regularly, without interrupting one +another, as if there were a triple league between them, and a +mutual agreement that each should give place to and make way for +the other in a due and orderly succession.</p> +<p>“We now come to the third act. Sempronius, in this act, +comes into the governor’s hall with the leaders of the +mutiny; but as soon as Cato is gone, Sempronius, who but just +before had acted like an unparalleled knave, discovers himself, +like an egregious fool, to be an accomplice in the +conspiracy.</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Semp</i>. Know, villains, when +such paltry slaves presume<br /> +To mix in treason, if the plot succeeds,<br /> +They’re thrown neglected by; but, if it fails,<br /> +They’re sure to die like dogs, as you shall do.<br /> +Here, take these factious monsters, drag them forth<br /> +To sudden death.’</p> +<p>“’Tis true, indeed, the second leader says there +are none there but friends; but is that possible at such a +juncture? Can a parcel of rogues attempt to assassinate the +governor of a town of war, in his own house, in midday, and, +after they are discovered and defeated, can there be none near +them but friends? Is it not plain, from these words of +Sempronius—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘Here, take these factious +monsters, drag them forth<br /> +To sudden death—’</p> +<p>and from the entrance of the guards upon the word of command, +that those guards were within ear-shot? Behold Sempronius, +then, palpably discovered. How comes it to pass, then, that +instead of being hanged up with the rest, he remains secure in +the governor’s hall, and there carries on his conspiracy +against the Government, the third time in the same day, with his +old comrade Syphax, who enters at the same time that the guards +are carrying 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 may expect a very +extraordinary scene. There is not abundance of spirit, indeed, +nor a great deal of passion, but there is wisdom more than enough +to supply all defects.</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Syph</i>. Our first design, my +friend, has proved abortive;<br /> +Still there remains an after-game to play:<br /> +My troops are mounted; their Numidian steeds<br /> +Snuff up the winds, and long to scour the desert.<br /> +Let but Sempronius lead us in our flight,<br /> +We’ll force the gate where Marcus keeps his guard,<br /> +And hew down all that would oppose our passage;<br /> +A day will bring us into Cæsar’s camp.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <i>Semp</i>. Confusion! I +have failed of half my purpose;<br /> +Marcia, the charming Marcia’s left behind.’</p> +<p>Well, but though he tells us the half-purpose he has failed +of, he does not tell us the half that he has carried. But what +does he mean by</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘Marcia, the charming +Marcia’s left behind’?</p> +<p>He is now in her own house! and we have neither seen her nor +heard of her anywhere else since the play began. But now let us +hear Syphax:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘What hinders, then, but that you +find her out,<br /> +And hurry her away by manly force?’</p> +<p>But what does old Syphax mean by finding her out? They +talk as if she were as hard to be found as a hare in a frosty +morning.</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Semp</i>. But how to gain +admission?’</p> +<p>Oh! she is found out then, it seems.</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘But how to gain admission? for +access<br /> +Is giv’n to none but Juba and her brothers.’</p> +<p>But, raillery apart, why access to Juba? For he was +owned and received as a lover neither by the father nor by the +daughter. Well, but let that pass. Syphax puts Sempronius out of +pain immediately; and, being a Numidian, abounding in wiles, +supplies him with a stratagem for admission that, I believe, is a +<i>nonpareil</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Syph</i>. Thou shalt have +Juba’s dress, and Juba’s guards;<br /> +The doors will open when Numidia’s prince<br /> +Seems to appear before them.’</p> +<p>“Sempronius is, it seems, to pass for Juba in full day +at Cato’s house, where they were both so very well known, +by having Juba’s dress and his guards; as if one of the +Marshals of France could pass for the Duke of Bavaria at noonday, +at Versailles, by having his dress and liveries. But how does +Syphax pretend to help Sempronius to young Juba’s +dress? Does he serve him in a double capacity, as general +and master of his wardrobe? But why Juba’s +guards? For the devil of any guards has Juba appeared with +yet. Well, though this is a mighty politic invention, yet, +methinks, they might have done without it: for, since the advice +that Syphax gave to Sempronius was</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘To hurry her away by manly +force,’</p> +<p>in my opinion the shortest and likeliest way of coming at the +lady was by demolishing, instead of putting on an impertinent +disguise to circumvent two or three slaves. But Sempronius, it +seems, is of another opinion. He extols to the skies the +invention of old Syphax:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Semp</i>. Heavens! what a +thought was there!’</p> +<p>“Now, I appeal to the reader if I have not been as good +as my word. Did I not tell him that I would lay before him a very +wise scene?</p> +<p>“But now let us lay before the reader that part of the +scenery of the fourth act which may show the absurdities which +the author has run into, through the indiscreet observance of the +unity of place. I do not remember that Aristotle has said +anything expressly concerning the unity of place. ’Tis +true, implicitly he has said enough in the rules which he has +laid down for the chorus. For by making the chorus an essential +part of tragedy, and by bringing it on the stage immediately +after the opening of the scene, and retaining it there till the +very catastrophe, he has so determined and fixed the place of +action that it was impossible for an author on the Grecian stage +to break through that unity. I am of opinion that if a modern +tragic poet can preserve the amity of place, without destroying +the probability of the incidents, ’tis always best for him +to do it; because by the preservation of that unity, as we have +taken notice above, he adds grace and clearness and comeliness to +the representation. But since there are no express rules about +it, and we are under no compulsion to keep it, since we have no +chorus as the Grecian poet had; if it cannot be preserved without +rendering the greater part of the incidents unreasonable and +absurd, and perhaps sometimes monstrous, ’tis certainly +better to break it.</p> +<p>“Now comes bully Sempronius, comically accoutred and +equipped with his Numidian dress and his Numidian guards. Let the +reader attend to him with all his ears, for the words of the wise +are precious:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Semp</i>. The deer is lodged; +I’ve tracked her to her covert.’</p> +<p>“Now I would fain know why this deer is said to be +lodged, since we have not heard one word since the play began of +her being at all out of harbour: and if we consider the discourse +with which 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 pleasure Sempronius, let us suppose, for once, that +the deer is lodged:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘The deer is lodged; I’ve +tracked her to her covert.’</p> +<p>“If he had seen her in the open field, what occasion had +he to track her when he had so many Numidian dogs at his heels, +which, with one halloo, he might have set upon her +haunches? If he did not see her in the open field, how +could he possibly track her? If he had seen her in the +street, why did he not set upon her in the street, since through +the street she must be carried at last? Now here, instead +of having his thoughts upon his business, and upon the present +danger; instead of meditating and contriving how he shall pass +with his mistress through the southern gate, where her brother +Marcus is upon the guard, and where he would certainly prove an +impediment to him (which is the Roman word for the +<i>baggage</i>); instead of doing this, Sempronius is +entertaining himself with whimsies:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘<i>Semp</i>. How will the young +Numidian rave to see<br /> +His mistress lost! If aught could glad my soul<br /> +Beyond th’ enjoyment of so bright a prize,<br /> +’Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian.<br /> +But hark! what noise? Death to my hopes! ’tis he,<br +/> +’Tis Juba’s self! There is but one way left!<br +/> +He must be murdered, and a passage cut<br /> +Through those his guards.’</p> +<p>“Pray, what are ‘those guards’? I +thought at present that Juba’s guards had been +Sempronius’s tools, and had been dangling after his +heels.</p> +<p>“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 +meets Juba there, and resolves to murder him with his own guards. +Upon the guards appearing a little bashful, he threatens +them:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘Hah! dastards, do you tremble?<br +/> +Or act like men; or, by yon azure heav’n!’—</p> +<p>“But the guards still remaining restive, Sempronius +himself attacks Juba, while each of the guards is representing +Mr. Spectator’s sign of the Gaper, awed, it seems, and +terrified by Sempronius’s threats. Juba kills Sempronius, +and takes his own army prisoners, and carries them in triumph +away to Cato. Now I would fain know if any part of Mr. +Bayes’s tragedy is so full of absurdity as this?</p> +<p>“Upon hearing the clash of swords, Lucia and Marcia come +in. The question is, why no men come in upon hearing the noise of +swords in the governor’s hall? Where was the governor +himself? Where were his guards? Where were his +servants? Such an attempt as this, so near the governor of +a place of war, was enough to alarm the whole garrison: and yet, +for almost half an hour after Sempronius was killed, we find none +of those appear who were the likeliest in the world to be +alarmed; and the noise of swords is made to 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 an hysterical gentlewoman:—</p> +<p class="poetry"> “‘<i>Luc</i>. +Sure ’twas the clash of swords! my troubled heart<br /> +Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,<br /> +It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound!’</p> +<p>And immediately her old whimsy returns upon her:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“O Marcia, should thy brothers, for my +sake—<br /> +I die away with horror at the thought.’</p> +<p>“She fancies that there can be no cutting of throats but +it must be for her. If this is tragical, I would fain know what +is comical. Well, upon this they spy the body of Sempronius; and +Marcia, deluded by the habit, it seems, takes him for Juba; for, +says she,</p> +<p class="poetry">“‘The face is muffled up within the +garment.’</p> +<p>“Now, how a man could fight, and fall, with his face +muffled up in his garment, is, I think, a little hard to +conceive! Besides, Juba, before he killed him, 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 muffled face, Marcia falls a-raving; +and, owning her passion for the supposed defunct, begins to make +his funeral oration. Upon which Juba enters listening, I suppose +on tip-toe; for I cannot imagine how any one can enter listening +in any other posture. I would fain know how it came to pass that, +during all this time, he had sent nobody—no, not so much as +a candle-snuffer—to take away the dead body of Sempronius. +Well, but let us regard him listening. Having left his +apprehension behind him, he, at first, applies what Marcia says +to Sempronius; but finding at last, with much ado, that he +himself is the happy man, he quits his eaves-dropping, and +discovers himself just time enough to prevent his being cuckolded +by a dead man, of whom the moment before he had appeared so +jealous, and greedily intercepts the bliss which was fondly +designed for one who could not be the better for it. But here I +must ask a question: how comes Juba to listen here, who had not +listened before throughout the play? Or how comes he to be +the only person of this tragedy who listens, when love and +treason were so often talked in so public a place as a +hall? I am afraid the author was driven upon all these +absurdities only to introduce this miserable mistake of Marcia, +which, after all, is much below the dignity of tragedy; as +anything is which is the effect or result of trick.</p> +<p>“But let us come to the scenery of the fifth act. Cato +appears first upon the scene, sitting in a thoughtful posture; in +his hand Plato’s Treatise on the Immortality of the Soul; a +drawn sword on the table by him. Now let us consider the place in +which this sight is presented to us. The place, forsooth, is a +long hall. Let us suppose that any one should place himself in +this posture, in the midst of one of our halls in London; that he +should appear solus, in a sullen posture, a drawn sword on the +table by him; in his hand Plato’s Treatise on the +Immortality of the Soul, translated lately by Bernard Lintot: I +desire the reader to consider whether such a person as this would +pass with them who beheld him for a great patriot, a great +philosopher, or a general, or some whimsical person who fancied +himself all these? and whether the people who belonged to the +family would think that such a person had a design upon their +midriffs or his own?</p> +<p>“In short, that Cato should sit long enough in the +aforesaid posture, in the midst of this large hall, to read over +Plato’s Treatise on the Immortality of the Soul, which is a +lecture of two long hours; that he should propose to himself to +be private there upon that occasion; that he should be angry with +his son for intruding there; then that he should leave this hall +upon the pretence of sleep, give himself the mortal wound in his +bedchamber, and then be brought back into that hall 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 to +be improbable, incredible, impossible.”</p> +<p>Such is the censure of Dennis. There is, as Dryden expresses +it, perhaps “too much horse-play in his railleries;” +but if his jests are coarse, his arguments are strong. Yet, as we +love better to be pleased than to be taught, <i>Cato</i> is read, +and the critic is 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 +cavils and minute objections.</p> +<p>Of Addison’s smaller poems no particular mention is +necessary; they have little that can employ or require a critic. +The parallel of the princes and gods in his verses to Kneller is +often happy, but is too well known to be quoted. His +translations, so far as I compared them, want the exactness of a +scholar. That he understood his authors, cannot be doubted; but +his versions will not teach others to understand them, being too +licentiously paraphrastical. They are, however, for the most +part, smooth and easy; and, what is the first excellence of a +translator, such as may be read with pleasure by those who do not +know the originals. His poetry is polished and pure; the product +of a mind too judicious to commit faults, but not sufficiently +vigorous to attain excellence. He has sometimes a striking line, +or a shining paragraph; but in the whole he is warm rather than +fervid, and shows more dexterity than strength. He was, however, +one of our earliest examples of correctness. The versification +which he had learned from Dryden he debased rather than refined. +His rhymes are often dissonant; in his Georgic he admits broken +lines. He uses both triplets and Alexandrines, but triplets more +frequently in his translation than his other works. The mere +structure of verses seems never to have engaged much of his care. +But his lines are very smooth in <i>Rosamond</i>, and too smooth +in <i>Cato</i>.</p> +<p>Addison is now to be considered as a critic: a name which the +present generation is scarcely willing to allow him. His +criticism is condemned as tentative or experimental rather than +scientific; and he is considered as deciding by taste rather than +by principles.</p> +<p>It is not uncommon for those who have grown wise by the labour +of others to add a little of their own, and overlook their +masters. Addison is 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 he would think it necessary to write now, +cannot be affirmed; his instructions were such as the characters +of his readers made proper. That general knowledge which now +circulates in common talk was in his time rarely to be found. Men +not professing learning were not ashamed of ignorance; and, in +the female world, any acquaintance with books was distinguished +only to be censured. His purpose was to infuse literary +curiosity, by gentle and unsuspected conveyance, into the gay, +the idle, and the wealthy; he therefore presented knowledge in +the most alluring form, not lofty and austere, but accessible and +familiar. When he showed them their defects, he showed them +likewise that they might be easily supplied. His attempt +succeeded; inquiry was awakened, and comprehension expanded. An +emulation of intellectual elegance was excited, and from this +time to our own life has been gradually exalted, and conversation +purified and enlarged.</p> +<p>Dryden had, not many years before, scattered criticism over +his prefaces with very little parsimony; but though he sometimes +condescended to be somewhat familiar, his manner was in general +too scholastic for those who had yet their rudiments to learn, +and found it not easy to understand their master. His +observations were framed rather for those that were learning to +write than for those that read only to talk.</p> +<p>An instructor like Addison was now wanting, whose remarks, +being superficial, might be easily understood, and being just, +might prepare the mind for more attainments. Had 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 still have been neglected; but by the +blandishments of gentleness and facility he has made Milton an +universal favourite, with whom readers of every class think it +necessary to be pleased. He descended now and then to lower +disquisitions: and by a serious display of the beauties of +“Chevy Chase” exposed himself to the ridicule of +Wagstaff, who bestowed a like pompous character on Tom Thumb; and +to the contempt of Dennis, who, considering the fundamental +position of his criticism, that “Chevy Chase” +pleases, and ought to please, because it is natural, observes; +“that there is a way of deviating from nature, by bombast +or tumour, which soars above nature, and enlarges images beyond +their real bulk; by affectation, which forsakes nature in quest +of something unsuitable; and by imbecility, which degrades nature +by faintness and diminution, by obscuring its appearances, and +weakening its effects.” In “Chevy Chase” +there is not much of either bombast or affectation; but there is +chill and lifeless imbecility. The story cannot possibly be told +in a manner that shall make less impression on the mind.</p> +<p>Before the profound observers of the present race repose too +securely on the consciousness of their superiority to Addison, +let them consider his Remarks on Ovid, in which may be found +specimens of criticism sufficiently subtle and refined: let them +peruse likewise his Essays on Wit, and on the Pleasures of +Imagination, in which he founds art on the base of nature, and +draws the principles of invention from dispositions inherent in +the mind of man with skill and elegance, such as his contemners +will not easily attain.</p> +<p>As a describer of life and manners, he must be allowed to +stand perhaps the first of the first rank. His humour, which, as +Steele observes, is peculiar to himself, is so happily diffused +as to give the grace of novelty to domestic scenes and daily +occurrences. He never “o’ersteps the modesty of +nature,” nor raises merriment or wonder by the violation of +truth. His figures neither divert by distortion nor amaze by +aggravation. He copies life with so much fidelity that he can be +hardly said to invent; yet his exhibitions have an air so much +original, that it is difficult to suppose them not merely the +product of imagination.</p> +<p>As a teacher of wisdom, he may be confidently followed. His +religion has nothing in it enthusiastic or superstitious: he +appears neither weakly credulous nor wantonly sceptical; his +morality is neither dangerously lax nor impracticably rigid. All +the enchantment of fancy, and all the cogency of argument, are +employed to recommend to the reader his real interest, the care +of pleasing the Author of his being. Truth is shown sometimes as +the phantom of a vision; sometimes appears half-veiled in an +allegory; sometimes attracts regard in the robes of fancy; and +sometimes steps forth in the confidence of reason. She wears a +thousand dresses, and in all is pleasing.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Mille habet ornatus, mille decenter +habet.”</p> +<p>His prose is the model of the middle style; on grave subjects +not formal, on light occasions not grovelling; pure without +scrupulosity, and exact without apparent elaboration; always +equable, and always easy, without glowing words or pointed +sentences. Addison never deviates from his track to snatch a +grace; he seeks no ambitious ornaments, and tries no hazardous +innovations. His page is always luminous, but never blazes in +unexpected splendour.</p> +<p>It was apparently his principal endeavour to avoid all +harshness and severity of diction; he is therefore sometimes +verbose in his transitions and connections, and sometimes +descends too much to the language of conversation; yet if his +language had been less idiomatical it might have lost somewhat of +its genuine Anglicism. What he attempted, he performed; he is +never feeble and he did not wish to be energetic; he is never +rapid and he never stagnates. His sentences have neither studied +amplitude nor affected brevity; his periods, though not +diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever wishes to +attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but +not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of +Addison.</p> +<h2>SAVAGE.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> has been observed in all ages +that the advantages of nature or of fortune have contributed very +little to the promotion of happiness: and that those whom the +splendour of their rank, or the extent of their capacity, has +placed upon the summit of human life, have not often given any +just occasion to envy in those who look up to them from a lower +station; whether it be that apparent superiority incites great +designs, and great designs are naturally liable to fatal +miscarriages; or that the general lot of mankind is misery, and +the misfortunes of those whose eminence drew upon them universal +attention have 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.</p> +<p>That affluence and power, advantages extrinsic and +adventitious, and therefore easily separable from those by whom +they are possessed, should very often flatter the mind with +expectations of felicity which they cannot give, raises no +astonishment: but it seems rational to hope that intellectual +greatness should produce better effects; that minds qualified for +great attainments should first endeavour their own benefit, and +that they who are most able to teach others the way to happiness, +should with most certainty follow it themselves. But this +expectation, however plausible, has been very frequently +disappointed. The heroes of literary as well as civil history +have been very often no less remarkable for what they have +suffered than for what they have achieved; and volumes have been +written only to enumerate the miseries of the learned, and relate +their unhappy lives and untimely deaths.</p> +<p>To these mournful narratives I am about to add the Life of +<span class="smcap">Richard Savage</span>, a man whose 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 consequences of the crimes of +others rather than his own.</p> +<p>In the year 1697, Anne, Countess 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 Earl +Rivers. This, as may be imagined, made her husband no less +desirous of a separation than herself, and he prosecuted his +design in the most effectual manner: for he applied, not to the +ecclesiastical courts for a divorce, but to the Parliament for an +Act by which his marriage might be dissolved, the nuptial +contract annulled, and the children of his wife illegitimated. +This Act, after the usual deliberation, he obtained, though +without the approbation of some, who considered marriage as an +affair only cognisable by ecclesiastical judges; and on March 3rd +was separated from his wife, whose fortune, which was very great, +was repaid her, and who having, as well as her husband, the +liberty of making another choice, she in a short time married +Colonel Brett.</p> +<p>While the Earl of Macclesfield was prosecuting this affair, +his wife was, on the 10th of January, 1607–8,[sic] +delivered of a son: and the Earl Rivers, by appearing to consider +him as his own, left none any reason to doubt of the sincerity of +her declaration; for he was his godfather and gave him his own +name, which was by his direction inserted in the register of St. +Andrew’s parish in Holborn, but unfortunately left him to +the care of his mother, whom, as she was now set free from her +husband, he probably imagined likely to treat with great +tenderness the child that had contributed to so pleasing an +event. It is not indeed easy to discover what motives could be +found to overbalance that natural affection of a parent, or what +interest could be promoted by neglect or cruelty. The dread of +shame or of poverty, by which some wretches have been incited to +abandon or murder their children, cannot be supposed to have +affected a woman who had proclaimed her crimes and solicited +reproach, and on whom the clemency of the Legislature had +undeservedly bestowed a fortune, which 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, assisting, and defending him, delight to +see him struggling with misery, or that she would take every +opportunity of aggravating his misfortunes, and obstructing his +resources, and with an implacable and restless cruelty continue +her persecution from the first hour of his life to the last. But +whatever were her motives, no sooner was her son born than she +discovered a resolution of disowning him; and in a very short +time removed him from her sight, by committing him to the care of +a poor woman, whom she directed to educate him as her own, and +enjoined never to inform him of his true parents.</p> +<p>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 he might be swallowed by its quicksands, +or dashed upon its rocks. His mother could not indeed infect +others with the same cruelty. As it was impossible to avoid the +inquiries which the curiosity or tenderness of her relations made +after her child, she was obliged to give some account of the +measures she had taken; and her mother, the Lady Mason, whether +in approbation of her design, or to prevent more criminal +contrivances, engaged to transact with the nurse, to pay her for +her care, and to superintend the education of the child.</p> +<p>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 of the misfortunes of his childhood, for though she +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 call in law to the assistance of +justice, her will was eluded by the executors, and no part of the +money was ever paid. He was, however, not yet wholly abandoned. +The Lady Mason still continued her care, and directed him to be +placed at a small grammar school near St. Albans, where he was +called by the name of his 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 if +in so low a state he obtained distinctions and rewards, it is not +likely that they were gained but by genius and industry.</p> +<p>It is very reasonable to conjecture that his application 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 productions had been preserved, like +those of happier students, we might in some have found vigorous +sallies of that sprightly humour which distinguishes “The +Author to be Let,” and in others strong touches of that +imagination which painted the solemn scenes of “The +Wanderer.”</p> +<p>While he was thus cultivating his genius, his father, the Earl +Rivers, was seized with a distemper, which in a short time put an +end to his life. He had frequently inquired after his son, and +had always been amused with fallacious and evasive answers; but +being now in his own opinion on his death-bed, he thought it his +duty to provide for him among his other natural children, and +therefore demanded a positive account of him, with an importunity +not to be diverted or denied. His mother, who could no longer +refuse an answer, determined at least to give such as should cut +him off for ever from that happiness which competence affords, +and therefore declared that he was dead; which is perhaps the +first instance of a lie 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 earl did not imagine that +there could exist in a human form a mother that would ruin her +son without enriching herself, and therefore bestowed upon some +other person six thousand pounds which he had in his will +bequeathed to Savage.</p> +<p>The same cruelty which incited his mother to intercept this +provision which had been intended him, prompted her in a short +time to another project, a project worthy of such a disposition. +She endeavoured to rid herself from the danger of being at any +time made known to him, by sending him secretly to the American +Plantations. 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 +or compel her to desist, or perhaps she could not easily find +accomplices wicked enough to concur in so cruel an action; for it +may be conceived that those who had by a long gradation of guilt +hardened their hearts against the sense of common 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>It is generally reported that this project was for some time +successful, and that Savage was employed at the awl longer than +he was willing to confess: nor was it perhaps any great advantage +to him, that an unexpected discovery determined him to quit his +occupation.</p> +<p>About this time his nurse, who had always treated him as her +own son, died; and it was natural for him to take care of those +effects which by her death were, as he imagined, become his own: +he therefore went to her house, opened her boxes, and examined +her papers, among which he found some letters written to her by +the Lady Mason, which informed him of his birth, and the reasons +for which it was concealed. He was no longer satisfied with the +employment which had been allotted him, but thought he had a +right to share the affluence of his mother; and therefore without +scruple applied to her as her son, and made use of every art to +awaken her tenderness and attract her regard. But neither his +letters, nor the interposition of those friends which his merit +or his distress procured him, made any impression on her mind. +She still resolved to neglect, though she could no longer disown +him. It was to no purpose that he frequently solicited her to +admit him to see her; she avoided him with the most vigilant +precaution, and ordered him to be excluded from her house, by +whomsoever he might be introduced, and what reason soever he +might give for entering it.</p> +<p>Savage was at the 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 before her door, in hopes of +seeing her as she might come by accident to the window, or cross +her apartment with a candle in her hand. But all his assiduity +and tenderness were without effect, for he 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 +affection of a mother. He was therefore obliged to seek some +other means of support; and, having no profession, became by +necessity an author.</p> +<p>At this time the attention of the literary world was engrossed +by the Bangorian controversy, which filled the press with +pamphlets, and the coffee-houses with disputants. Of this +subject, as most popular, he made choice for his first attempt, +and, without any 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 I +know not; it 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 endeavoured to suppress it, by +destroying all the copies that he could collect. He then +attempted a more gainful kind of writing, and 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, and brought it upon the stage, under the title of +<i>Woman’s a Riddle</i>, but allowed the unhappy author no +part of the profit.</p> +<p>Not discouraged, however, at his repulse, he wrote two years +afterwards <i>Love in a Veil</i>, another comedy, borrowed +likewise from the Spanish, but with little better success than +before; for though it was received and acted, yet it appeared so +late in the year, that the author obtained no other advantage +from it than the acquaintance of Sir Richard Steele and Mr. +Wilks, by whom he was pitied, caressed, and relieved.</p> +<p>Sir Richard Steele, having declared in his favour with all the +ardour of benevolence which constituted his character, promoted +his interest with the utmost zeal, related his misfortunes, +applauded his merit, took all the opportunities of recommending +him, and asserted that “the inhumanity of his mother had +given him a right to find every good man his father.” +Nor was Mr. Savage admitted to his acquaintance only, but to his +confidence, of which he sometimes related 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 the next morning. Mr. Savage came as he had promised, 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 conjecture, and was not willing to inquire; but +immediately seated himself with Sir Richard. The coachman was +ordered to drive, and they hurried with the utmost expedition to +Hyde Park Corner, where they stopped at a petty tavern, and +retired to a private room. Sir Richard then informed him that he +intended to publish a pamphlet, and that he had desired him to +come thither that he might write for him. He soon sat down to the +work. Sir Richard dictated, and Savage wrote, till the dinner +that had been ordered was put upon the table. Savage was +surprised at the meanness of the entertainment, and after some +hesitation ventured to ask for wine, which Sir Richard, not +without reluctance, ordered to be brought. They then finished +their dinner, and proceeded in their pamphlet, which they +concluded in the afternoon.</p> +<p>Mr. Savage then imagined his task over, and expected that Sir +Richard would call for the reckoning, and return home; but his +expectations deceived him, for Sir 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 to go +and offer their new production to sale for two guineas, which +with some difficulty he obtained. Sir Richard then returned home, +having retired that day only to avoid his creditors, and composed +the pamphlet only to discharge his reckoning.</p> +<p>Mr. Savage related another fact equally uncommon, which, +though it has no relation to his life, ought to be preserved. Sir +Richard Steele having one day invited to his house a great number +of persons of the first quality, they were surprised at the +number of liveries which surrounded the table; and after dinner, +when wine and mirth had set them free from the observation of a +rigid ceremony, one of them inquired of Sir Richard how such an +expensive train of domestics could be consistent with his +fortune. Sir Richard very frankly confessed that they were +fellows of whom he would very willingly be rid. And being then +asked why he did not discharge them, declared that they were +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 stayed. His friends were diverted with the +expedient, and by paying the debt, discharged their attendance, +having obliged Sir Richard to promise that they should never +again find him graced with a retinue of the same kind.</p> +<p>Under such a tutor, Mr. Savage was not likely to learn +prudence or frugality; and perhaps many of the misfortunes which +the want of those virtues brought upon him in the following parts +of his life, might be justly imputed to so unimproving an +example. Nor did the kindness of Sir Richard end in common +favours. He proposed to have established him in some settled +scheme of life, and to have contracted a kind of alliance with +him, by marrying him to a natural daughter, on whom he intended +to bestow a thousand pounds. But though he was always lavish of +future bounties, he conducted his affairs in such a manner that +he was very seldom able to keep his promises, or execute his own +intentions; and, as he was never able to raise the sum which he +had offered, the marriage was delayed. In the meantime he was +officiously informed that Mr. Savage had ridiculed him; by which +he was so much exasperated that he withdrew the allowance which +he had paid him, and never afterwards admitted him to his +house.</p> +<p>It is not, indeed, unlikely that Savage might by his +imprudence expose himself to the malice of a talebearer; for his +patron had many follies, which, as his discernment easily +discovered, his imagination might sometimes incite him to mention +too ludicrously. A little knowledge of the world is sufficient to +discover that such weakness is very common, and that there are +few who do not sometimes, in the wantonness of thoughtless mirth, +or the heat of transient resentment, speak of their friends and +benefactors with levity and contempt, though in their cooler +moments they want neither sense of their kindness nor reverence +for their virtue; the fault, therefore, of Mr. Savage was rather +negligence than ingratitude. But Sir Richard must likewise be +acquitted of severity, for who is there that can patiently bear +contempt from one whom he has relieved and supported, whose +establishment he has laboured, and whose interest he has +promoted?</p> +<p>He was now again abandoned to fortune without any other friend +than Mr. Wilks; a man who, whatever were his abilities or skill +as an actor, deserves at least to be remembered for his virtues, +which are not often to be found in the world, and perhaps less +often in his profession than in others. To be humane, generous, +and candid is a very high degree of merit in any case; but those +qualifications deserve still greater praise when they are found +in that condition which makes almost every other man, for +whatever reason, contemptuous, insolent, petulant, selfish, and +brutal.</p> +<p>As Mr. Wilks was one of those to whom calamity seldom +complained without relief, he naturally took an unfortunate wit +into his protection, and not only assisted him in any casual +distresses, but continued an equal and steady kindness to the +time of his death. By this interposition Mr. Savage once obtained +from his mother fifty pounds, and a promise of one hundred and +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 having been disappointed in her expectations, +refused to pay what perhaps nothing but the prospect of sudden +affluence prompted her to promise.</p> +<p>Being thus obliged to depend upon the friendship of Mr. Wilks, +he was consequently an assiduous frequenter of the theatres: and +in a short time the amusements of the stage took such possession +of his mind that he never was absent from a play in several +years. This constant attendance naturally procured him the +acquaintance of the players, and, among others, of Mrs. Oldfield, +who was so much pleased with his conversation, and touched with +his misfortunes, that she allowed him a settled pension of fifty +pounds a year, which was during her life regularly paid. That +this act of generosity may receive its due praise, and that the +good actions of Mrs. Oldfield may not be sullied by her general +character, it is proper to mention that Mr. Savage often +declared, in the strongest terms, that he never saw her alone, or +in any other place than behind the scenes.</p> +<p>At her death he endeavoured to show his gratitude in the most +decent manner, by wearing mourning as for a mother; but did not +celebrate her in elegies, because he knew that too great a +profusion of praise would only have revived those faults which +his natural equity did not allow him to think less because they +were committed by one who favoured him; but of which, though his +virtue would not endeavour to palliate them, his gratitude would +not suffer him to prolong the memory or diffuse the censure.</p> +<p>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 rewarded 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 dedicated any particular performance to her memory would +have only betrayed an officious partiality, and 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 received uncommon marks of +regard and compassion; and was once told by the Duke of Dorset +that it was just to consider him as an injured nobleman, and that +in his opinion the nobility ought to think themselves obliged, +without solicitation, to take every opportunity of supporting him +by their countenance and patronage. But he had generally the +mortification to hear that the whole interest of his mother was +employed to frustrate his applications, and that she never left +any expedient untried by which he might be cut off from the +possibility of supporting life. The same disposition she +endeavoured to diffuse among all those over whom nature or +fortune gave her any influence, and indeed succeeded too well in +her design; but could not always propagate her effrontery with +her cruelty; for some of those whom she incited against him were +ashamed of their own conduct, and boasted of that relief which +they never gave him. In this censure I do not indiscriminately +involve all his relations; for he has mentioned with gratitude +the humanity of one lady, whose name I am now unable to +recollect, and to whom, therefore, I cannot pay the praises which +she deserves for having acted well in opposition to influence, +precept, and example.</p> +<p>The punishment which our laws inflict upon those parents who +murder their infants is well known, nor has its justice ever been +contested; but, if they deserve death who destroy a child in its +birth, what pain can be severe enough for her who forbears to +destroy him only to inflict sharper miseries upon him; who +prolongs his life only to make him miserable; and who exposes +him, without care and without pity, to the malice of oppression, +the caprices of chance, and the temptations of poverty; who +rejoices to see him overwhelmed with calamities; and, when his +own industry, or the charity of others, has enabled him to rise +for a short time above his miseries, plunges him again into his +former distress?</p> +<p>The kindness of his friends not affording him any constant +supply, and the prospect of improving his fortune by enlarging +his acquaintance necessarily leading him to places of expense, he +found it necessary to endeavour once more at dramatic poetry; for +which he was now better qualified by a more extensive knowledge +and longer observation. But having been unsuccessful in comedy, +though rather for want of opportunities than genius, he resolved +to try whether he should not be more fortunate in exhibiting a +tragedy. The story which he chose for the subject was that of Sir +Thomas Overbury, a story well adapted to the stage, though +perhaps not far enough removed from the present age to admit +properly the fictions necessary to complete the plan; for the +mind, which naturally loves truth, is always most offended with +the violation of those truths of which we are most certain; and +we of course conceive those facts most certain which approach +nearer to our own time. Out of this story he formed a tragedy, +which, if the circumstances in which he wrote it be considered, +will afford at once an uncommon proof of strength of genius and +evenness of mind, of a serenity not to be ruffled and an +imagination not to be suppressed.</p> +<p>During a considerable part of the time in which he was +employed upon this performance, he was without lodging, and often +without meat; nor had he any other conveniences for study than +the fields or the streets allowed him; there he used to walk and +form his speeches, and afterwards step into a shop, beg for a few +moments the use of the pen and ink, and write down what he had +composed upon paper which he had picked up by accident.</p> +<p>If the performance of a writer thus distressed is not perfect, +its faults ought surely to be imputed to a cause very different +from want of genius, and must rather excite 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, to an ingenuous mind, was in a very +high degree vexatious and disgusting; for, having little interest +or reputation, he was obliged to submit himself wholly to the +players, and admit, with whatever reluctance, the emendations of +Mr. Cibber, which he always considered as the disgrace of his +performance. He had, indeed, in Mr. Hill another critic of a very +different class, from whose friendship he received great +assistance on many occasions, and whom he never mentioned but +with the utmost tenderness and regard. He had been for some time +distinguished by him with very particular kindness, and on this +occasion it was natural to apply to him as an author of an +established character. He therefore sent this tragedy to him, +with a short copy of verses, in which he desired his correction. +Mr. Hill, whose humanity and politeness are generally known, +readily complied with his request; but as he is remarkable for +singularity of sentiment, and bold experiments in language, Mr. +Savage did not think this play much improved by his innovation, +and had even at that time the courage to reject several passages +which he could not approve; and, what is still more laudable, Mr. +Hill had the generosity not to resent the neglect of his +alterations, but wrote the prologue and epilogue, in which he +touches on the circumstances of the author with great +tenderness.</p> +<p>After all these obstructions and compliances, he was only able +to bring his play upon the stage in the summer, when the chief +actors had retired, and the rest were in possession of the house +for their own advantage. Among these, Mr. Savage was admitted to +play the part of Sir Thomas Overbury, by which he gained no great +reputation, the theatre being a province for which nature seems +not to have designed him; for neither his voice, look, nor +gesture were such as were expected on the stage, and he was so +much ashamed of having been reduced to appear as a player, that +he always blotted out his name from the list when a copy of his +tragedy was to be shown to his friends.</p> +<p>In the publication of his performance he was more successful, +for the rays of genius that glimmered in it, that glimmered +through all the mists which poverty and Cibber had been able to +spread over it, procured him the notice and esteem of many +persons eminent for their rank, their virtue, and their wit. Of +this play, acted, printed, and dedicated, the accumulated profits +arose to a hundred pounds, which he thought at that time a very +large sum, having been never master of so much before.</p> +<p>In the dedication, for which he received ten guineas, there is +nothing remarkable. The preface contains a very liberal encomium +on the blooming excellence of Mr. Theophilus Cibber, which Mr. +Savage could not in the latter part of his life see his friends +about to read without snatching the play out of their hands. The +generosity of Mr. Hill did not end on this occasion; for +afterwards, when Mr. Savage’s necessities returned, he +encouraged a subscription to a Miscellany of Poems in a very +extraordinary manner, by publishing his story in the <i>Plain +Dealer</i>, with some affecting lines, which he 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. +Savage afterwards declared. These lines, and the paper in which +they were inserted, had a very powerful effect upon all but his +mother, whom, by making her cruelty more public, they only +hardened in her aversion.</p> +<p>Mr. Hill not only promoted the subscription to the Miscellany, +but furnished likewise the greatest part of the poems of which it +is composed, and particularly “The Happy Man,” which +he published as a specimen.</p> +<p>The subscriptions of those whom these papers should influence +to patronise merit in distress, without any other solicitation, +were directed to be left at Button’s Coffee-house; and Mr. +Savage going thither a few days afterwards, without expectation +of any effect from his proposal, found, to his surprise, seventy +guineas, which had been sent him in consequence of the compassion +excited by Mr. Hill’s pathetic representation.</p> +<p>To this Miscellany he wrote a preface, in which he gives an +account of his mother’s cruelty in a very uncommon strain +of humour, and with a gaiety of imagination which the success of +his subscription probably produced. The dedication is addressed +to the Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whom he flatters without +reserve, and, to confess the truth, with very little art. The +same observation may be extended to all his dedications: his +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 perusal only of his patrons, +and to imagine that he had no other task than to pamper them with +praises, however gross, and that flattery would make its way to +the heart, without the assistance of elegance or invention.</p> +<p>Soon afterwards the death of the king furnished a general +subject for a poetical contest, in which Mr. Savage engaged, and +is allowed to have carried the prize of honour from his +competitors: but I know not whether he gained by his performance +any other advantage than the increase of his reputation, though +it must certainly have been with farther views that he prevailed +upon himself to attempt a species of writing, of which all the +topics had been long before exhausted, and which was made at once +difficult by the multitudes that had failed in it, and those that +had succeeded.</p> +<p>He was now advancing in reputation, and though frequently +involved in very distressful perplexities, appeared, however, to +be gaining upon mankind, when both his fame and his life were +endangered by an event, of which it is not yet determined whether +it ought to be mentioned as a crime or a calamity.</p> +<p>On the 20th of November, 1727, Mr. Savage came from Richmond, +where he then lodged that he might pursue his studies with less +interruption, with an intent to discharge another lodging which +he had in Westminster; and accidentally meeting two gentlemen, +his acquaintances, whose names were Merchant and Gregory, he went +in with them to a neighbouring coffee-house, and sat drinking +till it was late, it being in no time of Mr. Savage’s life +any part of his character to be the first of the company 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 offer themselves till +morning. In this walk they happened unluckily to discover a light +in Robinson’s Coffee-house, near Charing Cross, and +therefore went in. Merchant with some rudeness demanded a room, +and was told that there was a good fire in the next parlour, +which the company were about to leave, being then paying their +reckoning. Merchant, not satisfied with this answer, rushed into +the room, and was followed by his companions. He then petulantly +placed himself between the company and the fire, and soon after +kicked down the table. This produced a quarrel, swords were drawn +on both sides, and one Mr. James Sinclair was killed. Savage, +having likewise wounded a maid that held him, forced his way, +with Merchant, out of the house; but being intimidated and +confused, without resolution either to fly or stay, they were +taken in a back court by one of the company, and some soldiers, +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 they were, however, +treated with some distinction, exempted from the ignominy of +chains, and confined, not among the common criminals, but in the +Press yard.</p> +<p>When the day of trial came, the court was crowded in a very +unusual manner, and the public appeared to interest itself as in +a cause of general concern. The witnesses against 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 been drinking with +them, and with whom one of them had been seen. They swore 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 his sword; that after he had given the +thrust he turned pale, and would have retired, but the maid clung +round him, and one of the company endeavoured to detain him, from +whom he broke by cutting the maid on the head, but was afterwards +taken in a court. There was some difference in their depositions; +one did not see Savage give the wound, another saw it given 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 very far from amounting to +inconsistency; but it was sufficient to show, that the hurry of +the dispute was such that it was not easy to discover the truth +with relation to particular circumstances, and that therefore +some deductions were to be made from the credibility of the +testimonies.</p> +<p>Sinclair had declared several times before his death that he +received his wound from Savage: nor did Savage at his trial deny +the fact, but endeavoured partly to extenuate it, by urging the +suddenness of the whole action, and the impossibility of any ill +design or premeditated malice; and partly to justify it by the +necessity of self-defence, and the hazard of his own life, if he +had lost that opportunity of giving the thrust: he observed, that +neither reason nor law obliged a man to wait for the blow which +was threatened, and which, if he should suffer it, he might never +be able to return; that it was allowable to prevent an assault, +and to preserve life by taking away that of the adversary by whom +it was endangered. With regard to the violence with which he +endeavoured to escape, he declared that it was not his design to +fly from justice, or decline a trial, but to avoid the expenses +and severities of a prison; and that he intended to appear at the +bar without compulsion.</p> +<p>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 applause could not be refused him; and those +who before pitied his misfortunes now reverenced his abilities. +The witnesses which appeared against him were proved to be +persons of characters which did not entitle them to much credit; +a common strumpet, a woman by whom strumpets were entertained, a +man by whom they were supported: and the character of Savage was +by several persons of distinction asserted to be that of a +modest, inoffensive man, not inclined to broils or to insolence, +and who had, to that time, been only known for his misfortunes +and his wit. Had his audience been his judges, he had undoubtedly +been acquitted, but Mr. Page, who was then upon the bench, +treated him with his usual insolence and severity, and when he +had summed up the evidence, endeavoured to exasperate the jury, +as Mr. Savage used to relate it, with this eloquent +harangue:—</p> +<p>“Gentlemen of the jury, you are to consider that Mr. +Savage is a very great man, a much greater man than you or I, +gentlemen of the jury; that he wears very fine clothes, much +finer clothes than you or I, gentlemen of the jury; that he has +abundance of money in his pockets, 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 the jury?”</p> +<p>Mr. Savage, hearing his defence thus misrepresented, and the +men who were to decide his fate incited against him by invidious +comparisons, resolutely asserted that his cause was not candidly +explained, and began to recapitulate what he had before said with +regard to his condition, and the necessity of endeavouring to +escape the expenses of imprisonment; but the judge having ordered +him to be silent, and repeated his orders without effect, +commanded that he should be taken from the bar by force.</p> +<p>The jury then heard the opinion of the judge, that good +characters were of no weight against positive evidence, though +they might turn the scale where it was doubtful; and that though, +when two men attack each other, the death of either is only +manslaughter; but where one is the aggressor, as in the case +before them, and, in pursuance of his first attack, kills the +other, the law supposes the action, however sudden, to be +malicious. They then deliberated upon their verdict, and +determined that Mr. Savage and Mr. Gregory were guilty of murder, +and Mr. Merchant, who had no sword, only of manslaughter.</p> +<p>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 far as it could be retained in memory, the following +speech:—</p> +<p>“It is now, my lord, too late to offer anything by way +of defence or vindication; nor can we expect from your lordships, +in this court, but the sentence which the law requires you, as +judges, to pronounce against men of our calamitous condition. But +we are also persuaded that as mere men, and out of this seat of +rigorous justice, you are susceptive of the tender passions, and +too humane not to commiserate the unhappy situation of those whom +the law sometimes perhaps exacts from you to pronounce upon. No +doubt you distinguish between offences which arise out of +premeditation, and a disposition habituated to vice or +immorality, and transgressions which are the unhappy and +unforeseen effects of casual absence of reason, and sudden +impulse of passion. We therefore hope you will contribute all you +can to an extension of that mercy which the gentlemen of the jury +have been pleased to show to Mr. Merchant, who (allowing facts as +sworn against us by the evidence) has led us into this our +calamity. I hope this will not be construed as if we meant to +reflect upon that gentleman, or remove anything from us upon him, +or that we repine the 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 misfortune.”</p> +<p>Mr. Savage had now no hopes of life but from the mercy of the +Crown, which was very earnestly solicited by his friends, and +which, with whatever difficulty the story may obtain belief, was +obstructed only by his mother.</p> +<p>To prejudice the queen against him, she made use of an +incident which was omitted in the order of time, that it might be +mentioned together with the purpose which it was made to serve. +Mr. Savage, when he had discovered his birth, had an incessant +desire to speak to his mother, who always avoided him in public, +and refused him admission into her house. One evening, walking, +as was his custom, in the street that she inhabited, he saw the +door of her house by accident open; he entered it, and finding no +person in the passage to hinder him, went up-stairs to salute +her. She discovered him before he entered the 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 murder her. Savage, who had attempted with the +most submissive tenderness to soften her rage, hearing her utter +so detestable an accusation, thought it prudent to retire, and, I +believe, never attempted afterwards to speak to her.</p> +<p>But shocked as he was with her falsehood and her cruelty, he +imagined that she intended no other use of her lie than to set +herself free from his embraces and solicitations, and was very +far from suspecting that she would treasure it in her memory as +an instrument of future wickedness, or that she would endeavour +for this fictitious assault to deprive him of his life. But when +the queen was solicited for his pardon, and informed of the +severe treatment which he had suffered from his judge, she +answered that, however unjustifiable might be the manner of his +trial, or whatever extenuation the action for which he was +condemned might admit, she could not think that man a proper +object of the king’s mercy who had been capable of entering +his mother’s house in the night with an intent to murder +her.</p> +<p>By whom this atrocious calumny had been transmitted to the +queen, whether she that invented had the front to relate it, +whether she found any one weak enough to credit it, or corrupt +enough to concur with her in her hateful design, I know not, but +methods had been taken to persuade the queen so strongly of the +truth of it, that she for a long time refused to hear any one of +those who petitioned for his life.</p> +<p>Thus had Savage perished by the evidence of a bawd, a +strumpet, and his mother, had not justice and compassion procured +him an advocate of rank too great to be rejected unheard, and of +virtue too eminent to be heard without being believed. His merit +and his calamities happened to reach the ear of the Countess of +Hertford, who engaged in his support with all the tenderness that +is excited by pity, and all the zeal which is kindled by +generosity, and, demanding an audience of 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 +intent to commit a murder that could produce no advantage, and +soon convinced her how little his former conduct could deserve to +be mentioned as a reason for extraordinary severity.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 all the +snares of calumny, to take away the life of her 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 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.</p> +<p>This mother is still (1744) alive, and may perhaps even yet, +though her malice was so often defeated, enjoy the pleasure of +reflecting that the life which she often endeavoured to destroy +was at last shortened by her maternal offices; that though she +could not transport her son to the plantations, bury him in the +shop of a mechanic, or hasten the hand of the public executioner, +she has yet had the satisfaction of embittering all his hours, +and forcing him into exigencies that hurried on his death. It is +by no means necessary to aggravate the enormity of this +woman’s conduct by placing it in opposition to that of the +Countess of Hertford. No one can fail to observe how much more +amiable it is to relieve than to oppress, and to rescue innocence +from destruction than to destroy without an injury.</p> +<p>Mr. Savage, during his imprisonment, his trial, and the time +in which he lay under sentence of death, behaved with great +firmness and equality of mind, and confirmed by his fortitude the +esteem of those who before admired him for his abilities. The +peculiar circumstances of his life were made more generally known +by a short account which was then published, and of which several +thousands were in a few weeks dispersed over the nation; and the +compassion of mankind operated so powerfully in his favour, that +he was enabled, by frequent presents, not only to support +himself, but to assist Mr. Gregory in prison; and when he was +pardoned and released, he found the number of his friends not +lessened.</p> +<p>The nature of the act for which he had been tried was in +itself doubtful; of the evidences which appeared against him, the +character of the man was not unexceptionable, that of the woman +notoriously infamous; she whose testimony chiefly influenced the +jury to condemn him afterwards retracted her assertions. He +always himself denied that he was drunk, as had been generally +reported. Mr. Gregory, who is now (1744) collector of Antigua, is +said to declare him far less criminal than he was imagined, even +by some who favoured him; and Page himself afterwards confessed +that he had treated him with uncommon rigour. When all 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 malignity against him. She informed him that she was in +distress, and, with a degree of confidence not easily attainable, +desired him to relieve her. He, instead of insulting her misery, +and taking pleasure in the calamities of one who had brought his +life into danger, reproved her gently for her perjury, and, +changing the only guinea that he had, divided it equally between +her and himself. This is an action which in some ages would have +made a saint, and perhaps in others a hero, and which, without +any hyperbolical encomiums, must be allowed to be an instance of +uncommon generosity, an act of complicated virtue, by which he at +once relieved the poor, corrected the vicious, and forgave an +enemy; by which he at once remitted the strongest provocations, +and exercised the most ardent charity. Compassion was indeed the +distinguishing quality of Savage: he never appeared inclined to +take advantage of weakness, to attack the defenceless, or to +press upon the falling. Whoever was distressed was certain at +least of his good wishes; and when he could give no assistance to +extricate them from misfortunes, he endeavoured to soothe them by +sympathy and tenderness. But when his heart was not softened by +the sight of misery, he was sometimes obstinate in his +resentment, and did not quickly lose the remembrance of an +injury. He always continued to speak with anger of the insolence +and partiality of Page, and a short time before his death +revenged it by a satire.</p> +<p>It is natural to inquire in what terms Mr. Savage spoke of +this fatal action when the danger was over, and he was under no +necessity of using any art to set his conduct in the fairest +light. He was not willing to dwell upon it; and, if he +transiently mentioned it, appeared neither to consider himself as +a murderer, nor as a man wholly free from the guilt of blood. How +much and how long he regretted it appeared in a poem which he +published many years afterwards. On occasion of a copy of verses, +in which the failings of good men are recounted, and 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 remarked that it was no very just representation of a good +man, to suppose him liable to drunkenness, and disposed in his +riots to cut throats.</p> +<p>He was now indeed at liberty, but was, as before, without any +other support than accidental favours and uncertain patronage +afforded him; sources by which he was sometimes very liberally +supplied, and which at other times were suddenly stopped; so that +he spent his life between want and plenty, or, what was yet +worse, 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 always 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.</p> +<p>The experience of these inconveniences determined him to +endeavour after some settled income, which, having long found +submission and entreaties fruitless, he attempted to extort from +his mother by rougher methods. He had now, as he acknowledged, +lost that tenderness for her which the whole series of her +cruelty had not been able wholly to repress, till he found, by +the efforts which she made for his destruction, that she was not +content with refusing to assist him, and being neutral in his +struggles with poverty, but was ready to snatch every opportunity +of adding to his misfortunes; and that she was now to be +considered as an enemy implacably malicious, whom nothing but his +blood could satisfy. He therefore threatened to harass her with +lampoons, and to publish a copious narrative of her conduct, +unless she consented to purchase an exemption from infamy by +allowing him a pension.</p> +<p>This expedient proved successful. Whether shame still +survived, though virtue was extinct, or whether her relations had +more delicacy than herself, and imagined that some of the darts +which satire might point at her would glance upon them, Lord +Tyrconnel, whatever were his motives, upon his promise to lay +aside his design of exposing the cruelty of his mother, received +him into his family, treated him as his equal, and engaged to +allow him a 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 expenses large, and his acquaintance extensive. He was +courted by all who endeavoured to be thought men of genius, and +caressed by all who valued themselves upon a refined taste. To +admire Mr. Savage was a proof of discernment; and to be +acquainted with him was a title to poetical reputation. His +presence was sufficient to make any place of public entertainment +popular, and his approbation and example constituted the fashion. +So powerful is genius, when it is invested with the glitter of +affluence! Men willingly pay to fortune that regard which +they owe to merit, and are pleased when they have an opportunity +at once of gratifying their vanity and practising their duty.</p> +<p>This interval of prosperity furnished him with opportunities +of enlarging his knowledge of human nature, by contemplating life +from its highest gradations to its lowest; and, had he afterwards +applied to dramatic poetry, he would perhaps not have had many +superiors, for, as 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 distinguished one character from +another; and, as his conception was strong, his expressions were +clear, he easily received impressions from objects, and very +forcibly transmitted them to others. Of his exact observations on +human life he has left a proof, 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, giving an account of his birth, his education, his +disposition and morals, habits of life, and maxims of conduct. In +the introduction are related many secret histories of the petty +writers of that time, but sometimes mixed with ungenerous +reflections on their birth, their circumstances, or those of +their relations; nor can it be denied that some passages are such +as Iscariot Hackney 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 +must be confessed that Mr. Savage’s esteem was no very +certain possession, and that he would lampoon at one time those +whom he had praised at another.</p> +<p>It may be alleged that the same man may change his principles, +and that he who was once deservedly commended may be afterwards +satirised with equal justice, or that the poet was dazzled with +the appearance of virtue, and found the man whom he had +celebrated, when he had an opportunity of examining him more +narrowly, unworthy 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, lest a bad man should be trusted upon +the credit of his encomiast, or lest others should endeavour to +obtain 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 subject, quickly sinks into contempt, his satire loses its +force, and his panegyric its value; and he is only considered at +one time as a flatterer, and a calumniator at another. To avoid +these imputations, it is only necessary to follow the rules of +virtue, and to preserve an unvaried regard to truth. For though +it is undoubtedly possible that a man, however cautious, may be +sometimes deceived by an artful appearance of virtue, or by false +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 had no man ever said what he did not think, or +misled others but when he was himself deceived.</p> +<p>“The Author to be Let” was first published in a +single pamphlet, and afterwards inserted in a collection of +pieces relating to the “Dunciad,” which were +addressed by Mr. Savage to the Earl of Middlesex, in a dedication +which he was prevailed upon to sign, though he did not 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 afterwards reflected with no great satisfaction. The +enumeration of the bad effects of the uncontrolled freedom of the +press, and the assertion that the “liberties taken by the +writers of journals with their superiors were exorbitant and +unjustifiable,” very ill became men who have themselves not +always shown the exactest regard to the laws of subordination in +their writings, and who have often satirised those that at least +thought themselves their superiors, as they were eminent for +their hereditary rank, and employed in the highest offices of the +kingdom. But this is only an instance of that partiality which +almost every man indulges with regard to himself: the liberty of +the press is a blessing when we are inclined to write against +others, and a calamity when we find ourselves overborne by the +multitude of our assailants; as the power of the Crown is always +thought too great by those who suffer by its influence, and too +little by those in whose favour it is exerted; and a standing +army is generally accounted necessary by those who command, and +dangerous and oppressive by those who support it.</p> +<p>Mr. Savage was likewise very far from believing that the +letters annexed to each species of bad poets in the Bathos were, +as he was directed to assert, “set down at random;” +for 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 that “he did not think of it;” and his friend +had too much tenderness to reply, that next to the crime of +writing contrary to what he thought was that of writing without +thinking.</p> +<p>After having remarked what is false in this dedication, it is +proper that I observe the impartiality which I recommend, by +declaring what Savage asserted—that the account of the +circumstances which attended the publication of the +“Dunciad,” however strange and improbable, was +exactly true.</p> +<p>The publication of this piece at this time raised Mr. Savage a +great number of enemies among those that 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 +secret incidents; so that the ignominy of an informer was added +to the terror of a satirist. That he was not altogether free from +literary hypocrisy, and that he sometimes spoke one thing and +wrote another, cannot be denied, because he himself confessed +that, when he lived with great familiarity with Dennis, he wrote +an epigram against him.</p> +<p>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 repent of the preference, for he +found Mr. Pope a steady and unalienable friend almost to the end +of his life.</p> +<p>About this time, notwithstanding his avowed neutrality with +regard to party, he published a panegyric on Sir Robert Walpole, +for which he was rewarded by him with twenty guineas, a sum not +very large, if either the excellence of the performance or the +affluence of the 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 patron of +literature.</p> +<p>As he was very far from approving the conduct of Sir Robert +Walpole, and 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 opposition, jealous of the rights of the people, and alarmed +by the long-continued triumph of the Court, it was natural to ask +him what could induce him to employ his poetry in praise of that +man who was, in his opinion, an enemy to liberty, and an +oppressor of his country? He alleged that he was then +dependent upon the Lord Tyrconnel, who was an implicit follower +of the ministry: and that, being enjoined by him, not without +menaces, to write in praise of the leader, he had not resolution +sufficient to sacrifice the pleasure of affluence to that of +integrity.</p> +<p>On this, and on many other occasions, he was ready to lament +the misery of living at the tables of other men, which was his +fate from the beginning to the end of his life; for I know not +whether he ever had, for three months together, a settled +habitation, in which he could claim a right of residence.</p> +<p>To this unhappy state it is just to impute much of the +inconsistency of his conduct, for though a readiness to comply +with the inclinations of others was no part of his natural +character, yet he was sometimes obliged to relax his obstinacy, +and submit his own judgment, and even his virtue, to the +government of those by whom he was supported. So that if his +miseries were sometimes the consequences of his faults, he ought +not yet to be wholly excluded from compassion, because his faults +were very often the effects of his misfortunes.</p> +<p>In this gay period of his life, while he was surrounded by +affluence and pleasure, he published “The Wanderer,” +a moral poem, of which the design is comprised in these +lines:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“I fly all public care, all venal +strife,<br /> +To try the still, compared with active, life;<br /> +To prove, by these, the sons of men may owe<br /> +The fruits of bliss to bursting clouds of woe;<br /> +That ev’n calamity, by thought refined,<br /> +Inspirits and adorns the thinking mind.”</p> +<p>And more distinctly in the following passage:—</p> +<p class="poetry">“By woe, the soul to daring action +swells;<br /> +By woe, in plaintless patience it excels:<br /> +From patience prudent, clear experience springs,<br /> +And traces knowledge through the course of things.<br /> +Thence hope is formed, thence fortitude, success,<br /> +Renown—whate’er men covet and caress.”</p> +<p>This performance was always considered by himself as his +masterpiece; and Mr. Pope, when he asked his opinion of it, told +him that he read it once over, and was not displeased with it; +that it gave him more pleasure at the second perusal, and +delighted him still more at the third.</p> +<p>It has been generally objected to “The Wanderer,” +that the disposition of the parts is irregular; that the design +is obscure, and the plan perplexed; that the images, however +beautiful, succeed each other without order; and that the whole +performance is not so much a regular fabric, as a heap of shining +materials thrown together by accident, which strikes rather with +the solemn magnificence of a stupendous ruin than the elegant +grandeur of a finished pile. This criticism is universal, and +therefore it is reasonable to believe it at least in a degree +just; but Mr. Savage was always of a contrary opinion, and +thought his drift could only be missed by negligence or +stupidity, and that the whole plan was regular, and the parts +distinct. It was never denied to abound with strong +representations of nature, and just observations upon life; and +it may easily be observed that most of his pictures have an +evident tendency to illustrate his first great position, +“that good is the consequence of evil.” 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.</p> +<p>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 to be +thought equivalent to many other excellences, that this poem can +promote no other purposes than those of virtue, and that it is +written with a very strong sense 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 occasioned, and therefore I shall not +dwell upon the particular passages which deserve applause. I +shall neither show the 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, who suffer death in his last canto. It +is, however, proper to observe, that Mr. Savage always declared +the characters wholly fictitious, and without the least allusion +to any real persons or actions.</p> +<p>From a poem so diligently laboured, and so successfully +finished, it might be reasonably 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 +absence entrusted the correction to a friend, who was too +indolent to perform it with accuracy.</p> +<p>A superstitious regard to the correction of his sheets was one +of Mr. Savage’s peculiarities: he often altered, revised, +recurred to his first reading or punctuation, and again adopted +the alteration; he was dubious and irresolute without end, as on +a question of the last importance, and at last was seldom +satisfied. The intrusion or omission of a comma was sufficient to +discompose him, and he would lament an error of a single letter +as a heavy calamity. In one of his letters relating to an +impression of some verses he remarks that he had, with regard to +the correction of the proof, “a spell upon him;” and +indeed the anxiety with which he dwelt upon the minutest and most +trifling niceties, 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 +frequently incited to oppress that genius by which they are +supported, but to that intemperate desire of pleasure, and +habitual slavery to his passions, which involved him in many +perplexities. He happened at that time to be engaged in the +pursuit of some trifling gratification, and, being without money +for the present occasion, sold his poem to the first bidder, and +perhaps for the first price that was proposed, and would probably +have been content with less if less had been offered him.</p> +<p>This poem was addressed to the Lord Tyrconnel, not only in the +first lines, but in a formal dedication filled with the highest +strains of panegyric, and the warmest professions of gratitude, +but by no means remarkable for delicacy of connection or elegance +of style. These praises in a short time he found himself inclined +to retract, being discarded by the man on whom he had bestowed +them, and whom he then immediately discovered not to have +deserved them. Of this quarrel, which every day made more bitter, +Lord Tyrconnel and Mr. Savage assigned very different reasons, +which might perhaps all in reality concur, though they were not +all convenient to be alleged by either party. Lord Tyrconnel +affirmed that it was the constant practice of Mr. Savage to enter +a tavern with any company that proposed it, drink the most +expensive wines with great profusion, and when the reckoning was +demanded to be without money. If, as it often happened, his +company were willing to defray his part, the affair ended without +any ill consequences; but if they were refractory, and expected +that the wine should be paid for by him that drank it, his method +of composition was, to take them with him to his own apartment, +assume the government of the house, and order the butler in an +imperious manner to set the best wine in the cellar before his +company, who often drank 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 +this the only charge which Lord Tyrconnel brought against him. +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 +pawnbroker.</p> +<p>Whoever was acquainted with Mr. Savage easily credited both +these accusations; for having been obliged, from his first +entrance into the world, to subsist upon expedients, affluence +was not able to exalt him above them; 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 +tavern without scruple, and trust for the reckoning to the +liberality of his company, and frequently of company to whom he +was very little known. 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 received +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; but it must likewise be added, that he +had not often a friend long without obliging him to become a +stranger.</p> +<p>Mr. Savage, on the other hand, declared that Lord Tyrconnel +quarrelled with him because he would not subtract from his own +luxury and extravagance what he had promised to allow him, and +that his resentment was only a plea for the violation of his +promise. He asserted that he had done nothing that ought to +exclude him from that subsistence which he thought not so much a +favour as a debt, since it was offered him upon conditions which +he had never broken: and that his only fault was, 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 +desirous that he would pass those hours with him which he so +freely bestowed upon others. This demand Mr. Savage considered as +a censure of his conduct which he could never patiently bear, and +which, in the latter and cooler parts of his life, was so +offensive to him, that he declared it as his resolution “to +spurn that friend who should pretend to dictate to him;” +and it is not likely that in his earlier years he received +admonitions with more calmness. He was likewise inclined to +resent such expectations, as tending to infringe his liberty, of +which he was very jealous, when it was necessary to the +gratification 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 that inconsistency of his writings +with his conversation which was so often to be observed. He +forgot how lavishly he had, in his dedication to “The +Wanderer,” extolled the delicacy and penetration, the +humanity and generosity, the candour and politeness of the man +whom, when he no longer loved him, he declared to be a wretch +without understanding, without good nature, and without justice; +of whose name he thought himself obliged to leave 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.</p> +<p>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 performance is +remarkable, not only for the gaiety of the ideas and the melody +of the numbers, but for the agreeable fiction upon which it is +formed. Mirth, overwhelmed with sorrow for the sickness of her +favourite, takes a flight in quest of her sister Health, whom she +finds reclined upon the brow of a lofty mountain, amidst the +fragrance of perpetual spring, with the breezes of the morning +sporting about her. Being solicited by her sister Mirth, she +readily promises her assistance, flies away in a cloud, and +impregnates the waters of Bath with new virtues, by which the +sickness of Belinda is relieved. As the reputation of his +abilities, the particular circumstances 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 +familiarity with 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 view of +those whom their birth, their employments, or their fortunes +necessarily placed at a distance from the greatest part of +mankind, and to examine whether their merit was magnified or +diminished by the medium through which it was contemplated; +whether the splendour with which they dazzled their admirers was +inherent in themselves, or only reflected on them by the objects +that surrounded them; and whether great men were selected for +high stations, or high stations made great men.</p> +<p>For this purpose he took all opportunities of conversing +familiarly with those who were most conspicuous at that time for +their power or their influence; he watched their looser moments, +and examined their domestic behaviour, with that acuteness which +nature had given him, and which the uncommon variety of his life +had contributed to increase, and that inquisitiveness which must +always be produced in a vigorous mind by an absolute freedom from +all pressing or domestic engagements. 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 leisure to +pursue his observations. More circumstances to constitute a +critic on human life could not easily concur; nor, indeed, could +any man, who assumed from 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 it must be +confessed, that abilities really exalted above the common level, +or virtue refined from passion, or proof against corruption, +could not easily find an abler judge or a warmer advocate.</p> +<p>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, and power and resentment are seldom +strangers; nor would it perhaps be wholly just, because what he +asserted in conversation might, though true in general, be +heightened by some momentary ardour of imagination, and as it can +be delivered only from memory, may be imperfectly represented, so +that the picture, at first aggravated, and then unskilfully +copied, may be justly suspected to retain no great resemblance of +the original.</p> +<p>It may, however, be observed, that he did not appear to have +formed very elevated ideas of those to whom the administration of +affairs, or the conduct of parties, has been intrusted; who have +been considered as the advocates of the Crown, or the guardians +of the people; and who have obtained the most implicit +confidence, and the loudest applauses. Of one particular person, +who has been at one time so popular as to be generally esteemed, +and at another so formidable as to be universally detested, he +observed that his acquisitions had 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.</p> +<p>But the opportunity of indulging his speculations on great +characters was now at an end. He was banished from the table of +Lord Tyrconnel, and turned again adrift upon the world, without +prospect of finding quickly any other harbour. As prudence was +not one of the virtues by which he was distinguished, he 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 consequence of accumulated provocations on both +sides, yet every one that knew Savage will readily believe that +to him it was sudden as a 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 it away by amusements or dreams of future felicity and +affluence, and had never taken any measures 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 he perceived, from the behaviour of both, +how much is added to the lustre of genius by the ornaments of +wealth. His condition did not appear to excite much compassion, +for he had not been always careful to use the 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 dependent on the bounty of another, +whom he could expect to support him no longer than he endeavoured +to preserve his favour by complying with his inclinations, and +whom he nevertheless set at defiance, and was continually +irritating by negligence or encroachments.</p> +<p>Examples need not be sought at any great distance to prove +that superiority of fortune has a natural tendency to kindle +pride, and that pride seldom fails to exert itself in contempt +and insult; and if this is often the effect of hereditary wealth, +and of honours enjoyed only by the merits of others, it is some +extenuation of any indecent triumphs to which this unhappy man +may have been betrayed, that his prosperity 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 to revenge. It is too common for those who have +unjustly suffered pain to inflict it 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.</p> +<p>That Mr. Savage was too much elevated by any good fortune is +generally known; and some passages of his Introduction to +“The Author to be Let” sufficiently show 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 or topic of invective. He was then able to discern, +that if misery be the effect of virtue, it ought to be +reverenced; if of ill fortune, to be pitied; and if of vice, not +to be insulted, because it is perhaps itself a punishment +adequate to the crime by which it was produced. And the humanity +of that man can deserve no panegyric who is capable of +reproaching a criminal in the hands of the executioner. But these +reflections, though they readily occurred to him in the first and +last parts of his life, were, I am afraid, for a long time +forgotten; at least they were, like many other maxims, treasured +up in his mind rather for show 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, was considered by many as an occasion of +triumph. Those who had before paid their court to him without +success soon returned the contempt which they had suffered; and +they who had received favours from him, for of such favours as he +could bestow he was very liberal, did not always remember them. +So much more certain are the effects of resentment than of +gratitude. It is not only to many more pleasing to recollect +those faults which place others below them, than those virtues by +which they are themselves comparatively depressed: but it is +likewise more easy to neglect than to recompense. And though +there are few who will practise a laborious virtue, there will +never be wanting multitudes that will indulge in easy vice.</p> +<p>Savage, however, was very little disturbed at the marks of +contempt which his ill fortune brought upon him from those whom +he never esteemed, and with whom he never considered himself as +levelled by any calamities: and though it was not without some +uneasiness that he saw some whose friendship he valued change +their behaviour, he yet observed their coldness without much +emotion, considered them as the slaves of fortune, and the +worshippers of prosperity, and was more inclined to despise them +than to lament himself.</p> +<p>It does not appear that after this return of his wants he +found mankind equally favourable to him, as at his first +appearance in the world. His story, though in reality not less +melancholy, was less affecting, because it was no longer new. It +therefore procured him no new friends, and those that had +formerly relieved him thought they might now consign him to +others. He was now likewise considered by many rather as 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 representations of his faults must make great +numbers less sensible of his distress; many who had only an +opportunity to hear one part made no scruple to propagate the +account which they received; many assisted their circulation from +malice or revenge; and perhaps many pretended to credit them, +that they might with a better grace withdraw their regard, or +withhold their assistance.</p> +<p>Savage, however, was not one of those who suffered himself to +be injured without resistance, nor was he less diligent in +exposing the faults of Lord Tyrconnel, over whom he obtained at +least this advantage, that he drove him first to the practice of +outrage and violence; for he was so much provoked by the wit and +virulence of Savage, that he came with a number of attendants, +that did no honour to his courage, to beat him at a coffee-house. +But it happened that he had left the 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 +visit at his own house, but was prevailed on by his domestics to +retire without insisting on seeing him.</p> +<p>Lord Tyrconnel was accused by Mr. Savage of some actions which +scarcely any provocation will be thought sufficient to justify, +such as seizing what he had in his lodgings, and other instances +of wanton cruelty, by which he increased the distress of Savage +without any advantage to himself.</p> +<p>These mutual accusations were retorted on both sides, for many +years, with the utmost degree of virulence and rage; and time +seemed rather to augment than diminish their resentment. That the +anger of Mr. Savage should be kept alive is not strange, because +he felt every day the consequences of the quarrel; but it might +reasonably have been hoped that Lord Tyrconnel might have +relented, and at length have forgot those provocations, which, +however they might have once inflamed him, had not in reality +much hurt him. The spirit of Mr. Savage, indeed, never suffered +him to solicit a reconciliation; he returned reproach for +reproach, and insult for insult; 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 this +might be some gratification of his vanity, it afforded very +little relief to his necessities, and he was frequently reduced +to uncommon hardships, of which, however, he never made any mean +or importunate complaints, being formed rather to bear misery +with fortitude than enjoy prosperity with moderation.</p> +<p>He now thought himself again at liberty to expose the cruelty +of his mother; and therefore, I believe, about this time, +published “The Bastard,” a poem remarkable for the +vivacious sallies of thought in the beginning, where he makes a +pompous enumeration of the imaginary advantages of base birth, +and the pathetic sentiments at the end, where he recounts the +real calamities which he suffered by the crime of his parents. +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.</p> +<p>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 +reputation of the poem begin to spread, than she heard it +repeated in all places of concourse; nor could she enter the +assembly-rooms or cross the walks without being saluted with some +lines from “The Bastard.”</p> +<p>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 had first endeavoured to starve +her son, then to transport him, and afterwards to hang him, was +not able to bear the representation of her own conduct, but fled +from reproach, though she felt no pain from guilt, and left Bath +in the utmost haste to shelter herself among the crowds of +London. 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.</p> +<p>The pleasure which he received from this increase of his +poetical reputation was sufficient for some time to overbalance +the miseries of want, which this performance did not much +alleviate; for it 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 the unhappy +writer to any part of the profit. The sale of this poem was +always mentioned by Mr. Savage with the utmost elevation of +heart, and referred to by him as an incontestable proof of a +general acknowledgment of his abilities. It was, indeed, the only +production of which he could justly boast a general reception. +But, though he did not lose 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 anything sacred in the voice of the people when +they were inclined to censure him; he then readily showed the +folly of expecting that the public should judge right, observed +how slowly poetical merit had often forced its way into the +world; he contented himself with the applause of men of judgment, +and was somewhat disposed to exclude all those from the character +of men of judgment 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 causes; either they were published at a time when the town +was empty, or when the attention of the public was engrossed by +some struggle in the Parliament or some other object of general +concern; or they were, by the neglect of the publisher, not +diligently dispersed, or, by his avarice, not advertised with +sufficient frequency. Address, or industry, or liberality was +always wanting, and the blame was laid rather on any person than +the author.</p> +<p>By arts like these, arts which every man practises in some +degree, and to which too much of the little tranquillity of life +is to be ascribed, Savage was always able to live at peace with +himself. Had he, indeed, only made use of these expedients to +alleviate the loss or want of fortune or reputation, or any other +advantages which it is not in a man’s power to bestow upon +himself, they might have been justly mentioned as instances of a +philosophical mind, and very properly proposed to the imitation +of multitudes who, for want of diverting their imaginations with +the same dexterity, languish under afflictions which might be +easily removed.</p> +<p>It were doubtless to be wished that truth and reason were +universally prevalent; that everything were esteemed according to +its real value; and that men would secure themselves from being +disappointed, in their endeavours after happiness, by placing it +only in virtue, which is always to be obtained; but, if +adventitious and foreign pleasures must be pursued, it would be +perhaps of some benefit, since that pursuit must frequently be +fruitless, if the practice of Savage could be taught, that folly +might be an antidote to folly, and one fallacy be obviated by +another. But the danger of this pleasing intoxication must not be +concealed; nor, indeed, can any one, after having observed the +life of Savage, need to be cautioned against it. By imputing none +of his miseries to himself, he continued to act upon the same +principles, and to follow the same path; was never made wiser by +his sufferings, nor preserved by one misfortune from falling into +another. He proceeded throughout his life to tread the same steps +on the same circle; always applauding his past conduct, or at +least forgetting it, to amuse himself with phantoms of happiness, +which were dancing before him; and willingly turned his eyes from +the light of reason, when it would have discovered the illusion, +and shown him, what he never wished to see, his real state. He is +even accused, after having lulled his imagination with those +ideal opiates, of having tried the same experiment upon his +conscience; and, having accustomed himself to impute all +deviations from the right to foreign causes, it is 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 practice of virtue, and was indeed +not so much a good man as the friend of goodness.</p> +<p>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 spread +corruption amongst mankind. His actions, which were generally +precipitate, were often blameable; but his writings, being the +production 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 considered, upon the whole, as a benefactor +to the world. Nor can his personal example do any hurt, since +whoever hears of his faults will hear of the miseries which they +brought upon him, and which would deserve less pity had not his +condition been such as made his faults pardonable. He may be +considered as a child exposed to all the temptations of +indigence, at an age when resolution was not yet strengthened by +conviction, nor virtue confirmed by habit; a circumstance which, +in his “Bastard,” he laments in a very affecting +manner:—</p> +<p +class="poetry"> “No +mother’s care<br /> +Shielded my infant innocence with prayer;<br /> +No father’s guardian hand my youth maintained,<br /> +Called forth my virtues, or from vice restrained.”</p> +<p>“The Bastard,” however it might provoke or mortify +his mother, could not be expected to melt her to compassion, so +that he was still under the same want of the necessaries of life; +and he therefore exerted all the interest which his wit, or his +birth, or his misfortunes could procure to obtain, upon the death +of Eusden, the place of Poet Laureate, and prosecuted his +application with so much diligence that the king publicly +declared it his intention to bestow it upon him; but such was the +fate of Savage that even the king, when he intended his +advantage, was disappointed in his schemes; for the Lord +Chamberlain, who has the disposal of the laurel as one of the +appendages of his office, either did not know the king’s +design, or did not approve it, or thought the nomination of the +Laureate an encroachment upon his rights, and therefore bestowed +the laurel upon Colley Cibber.</p> +<p>Mr. Savage, thus disappointed, took a resolution of applying +to the queen, that, having once given him life, she would enable +him to support it, and therefore published a short poem on her +birthday, to which he gave the odd title of “Volunteer +Laureate.” 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 <i>The Gentleman’s +Magazine</i>, whence I have copied it entire, as this was one of +the few attempts in which Mr. Savage succeeded.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Mr. +Urban</span>,—In your Magazine for February you published +the last ‘Volunteer Laureate,’ written on a very +melancholy occasion, the death of the royal patroness of arts and +literature in general, and of the author of that poem in +particular; I now send you the first that Mr. Savage wrote under +that title. This gentleman, notwithstanding a very considerable +interest, being, on the death of Mr. Eusden, disappointed of the +Laureate’s place, wrote the following verses; which were no +sooner published, but the late queen sent to a bookseller for +them. The author had not at that time a friend either to get him +introduced, or his poem presented at Court; yet, such 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 bank-bill of fifty pounds, and a gracious +message from her Majesty, by the Lord North and Guilford, to this +effect: ‘That her Majesty was highly pleased with the +verses; that she took particularly kind his lines there relating +to the king; that he had permission to write annually on the same +subject; and that he should yearly receive the like present, till +something better (which was her Majesty’s intention) could +be done for him.’ After this he was permitted to +present one of his annual poems to her Majesty, had the honour of +kissing her hand, and met with the most gracious reception.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“Yours, etc.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such was the performance, and such its reception; a reception +which, though by no means unkind, was yet not in the highest +degree generous. To chain down the genius of a writer to an +annual panegyric showed in the queen too much desire of hearing +her own praises, and a greater regard to herself than to him on +whom her bounty was conferred. It was a kind of avaricious +generosity, by which flattery was rather purchased than genius +rewarded.</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldfield had formerly given him the same allowance with +much more heroic intention: 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.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Mr. Savage, however, was not at liberty to make exceptions, +but was ravished with the favours which he had received, and +probably yet more with those which he was promised: he considered +himself now as a favourite of the queen, and did not doubt but a +few annual poems would establish him in some profitable +employment. He therefore assumed the title of “Volunteer +Laureate,” not without some reprehensions from Cibber, who +informed him that the title of “Laureate” was a mark +of honour conferred by the king, from whom all honour is derived, +and which, therefore, no man has a right to bestow upon himself; +and added that he might with equal propriety style himself a +Volunteer Lord or Volunteer Baronet. It cannot be denied that the +remark was just; 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 continued to write under the same title, +and received every year the same reward. He did not appear to +consider these encomiums as tests of his abilities, or as +anything more than annual 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 <i>The +Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, by which they were dispersed over +the kingdom.</p> +<p>Of some of them he had himself so low an opinion that he +intended to omit them in the collection of poems for which he +printed proposals, and solicited subscriptions; nor can it seem +strange that, being confined to the same subject, he should be at +some times indolent and at others unsuccessful; that he should +sometimes delay a disagreeable task till it was too late to +perform it well; or that he should sometimes repeat the same +sentiment on the same occasion, or at others be misled by an +attempt after novelty to forced conceptions and far-fetched +images. He wrote indeed with a double intention, which supplied +him with some variety; for his business was to praise the queen +for the favours which he had received, and to complain to her of +the delay of those which she had promised: in some of his pieces, +therefore, gratitude is predominant, and in some discontent; in +some, he represents himself as happy in her patronage; and, in +others, as disconsolate to find himself neglected. Her promise, +like other promises made to this unfortunate man, was never +performed, though he took sufficient care that it should not be +forgotten. The publication of his “Volunteer +Laureate” procured him no other reward than a regular +remittance of fifty pounds. He was not so depressed by his +disappointments as to neglect any opportunity that was offered of +advancing his interest. When the Princess Anne was married, he +wrote a poem upon her departure, only, as he declared, +“because it was expected from him,” and he was not +willing to bar his own prospects by any appearance of neglect. He +never mentioned any advantage gained by this poem, or any regard +that was paid to it; and therefore it is likely that it was +considered at Court as an act of duty, to which he was obliged by +his dependence, and which it was therefore not necessary to +reward by any new favour: or perhaps the queen really intended +his advancement, and therefore thought it superfluous to lavish +presents upon a man whom she intended to establish for life.</p> +<p>About this time not only his hopes were in danger of being +frustrated, but his pension likewise of being obstructed, by an +accidental calumny. The writer of <i>The Daily Courant</i>, a +paper then published under the direction of the Ministry, charged +him with a crime, which, though very great in itself, would have +been remarkably invidious in him, and might very justly have +incensed the queen against him. He was accused by name of +influencing elections against the Court by appearing at the head +of a Tory mob; nor did the accuser fail to 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 the rioter’s conduct +related. This exactness made Mr. Savage’s vindication easy; +for he never had in his life seen the place which was declared to +be the scene of his wickedness, nor ever had been present in any +town when its representatives were chosen. This answer he +therefore made haste to publish, with all the circumstances +necessary to make it credible; and very reasonably demanded that +the accusation should be retracted in the same paper, that he +might no longer 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, either trusting to the +protection of those whose defence he had undertaken, or having +entertained some personal malice against Mr. Savage, or fearing +lest, by retracting so confident an assertion, he should impair +the credit of his paper, refused to give him that satisfaction. +Mr. Savage therefore thought it necessary, to his own +vindication, to prosecute him in the King’s Bench; but as +he did not find any ill effects from the accusation, having +sufficiently cleared his innocence, he thought any further +procedure would have the appearance of revenge; and therefore +willingly dropped it. He saw soon afterwards a process commenced +in the same court against himself, on an information in which he +was accused of writing and publishing an obscene pamphlet.</p> +<p>It was always Mr. Savage’s desire to be distinguished; +and, when any controversy became popular, he never wanted some +reason for engaging in it with great ardour, and appearing at the +head of the party which he had chosen. As he was never celebrated +for his prudence, he had no sooner taken his side, and informed +himself of the chief topics of the dispute, than he took all +opportunities of asserting and propagating his principles, +without much regard to his own interest, or any other visible +design than that of drawing upon himself the attention of +mankind.</p> +<p>The dispute between the Bishop of London and the chancellor is +well known to have been for some time the chief topic of +political conversation; and therefore Mr. Savage, in pursuance of +his character, endeavoured to become conspicuous among the +controvertists with which every coffee-house was filled on that +occasion. He was an indefatigable opposer of all the claims of +ecclesiastical power, though he did not know on what they were +founded; and was therefore no friend to the Bishop of London. But +he had another reason for appearing as a warm advocate for Dr. +Rundle; for he was the friend of Mr. Foster and Mr. Thomson, who +were the friends of Mr. Savage.</p> +<p>Thus remote was his interest in the question, which, however, +as he imagined, concerned him so nearly, that it was not +sufficient to harangue and dispute, but necessary likewise to +write upon it. He therefore engaged with 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; +and insinuates that this priest, thus accomplished, found at last +a patron in the Bishop of London. When he was asked, by one of +his friends, on what pretence he could charge the bishop with +such an action, he had no more to say than that he had only +inverted the accusation; and that he thought it reasonable to +believe that he who obstructed the rise of a good man without +reason would for bad reasons promote the exaltation of a villain. +The clergy were universally provoked by this satire; and Savage, +who, as was his constant practice, had set his name to his +performance, was censured in <i>The Weekly Miscellany</i> with +severity, which he did not seem inclined to forget.</p> +<p>But return of invective was not thought a sufficient +punishment. The Court of King’s Bench was therefore moved +against him; and he was obliged to return an answer to a charge +of obscenity. It was urged, in his defence, that obscenity was +criminal when it was intended to promote the practice of vice; +but that Mr. Savage had only introduced obscene ideas with the +view of exposing them to detestation, and of amending the age by +showing the deformity of wickedness. This plea was admitted; and +Sir Philip Yorke, who then presided in that court, dismissed the +information, with encomiums upon the purity and excellence of Mr. +Savage’s writings. The prosecution, however, answered in +some measure the purpose of those by whom it was set on foot; for +Mr. Savage was so far intimidated by it that, when the edition of +his poem was sold, he did not venture to reprint it; so that it +was in a short time forgotten, or forgotten by all but those whom +it offended. It is said that some endeavours were used to incense +the queen against him: but he found advocates to obviate at least +part of their effect; for though he was never advanced, he still +continued to receive his pension.</p> +<p>This poem drew more infamy upon him than any incident of his +life; and, as his conduct cannot be vindicated, it is proper to +secure his memory from reproach 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 edition of +“The Progress of a Divine,” it was his calm and +settled resolution to suppress it for ever.</p> +<p>He once intended to have made a better reparation for the +folly or injustice with which he might be charged, by writing +another poem, called “The Progress of a +Free-thinker,” whom he intended to lead through all the +stages of vice and folly, to convert him from virtue to +wickedness, and from religion to infidelity, by all the modish +sophistry used for that purpose; and at last to dismiss him by +his own hand into the other world. That he did not execute this +design is a real loss to mankind; for he was too well acquainted +with all the scenes of debauchery to have failed in his +representations of them, and too zealous for virtue not to have +represented them in such a manner as should expose them either to +ridicule or detestation. But this plan was, like others, formed +and laid aside, till the vigour of his imagination was spent, and +the effervescence of invention had subsided; but soon gave way to +some other design, which pleased by its novelty for awhile, and +then was neglected like the former.</p> +<p>He was still in his usual exigencies, having no certain +support but the pension allowed him by the queen, which, though +it might have kept an exact economist 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 solicited, and whom nothing but want of +money withheld from partaking of every pleasure that fell within +his view. His conduct with regard to his pension was very +particular. No sooner had he changed the bill than he vanished +from the sight of all his acquaintance, and lay for some time out +of the reach of all the inquiries that friendship or curiosity +could make after him. At length he appeared again, penniless as +before, but never informed even those whom he seemed to regard +most where he had been; nor was his retreat ever discovered. This +was his constant practice during the whole time that he received +the pension from the queen: he regularly disappeared and +returned. He, indeed, affirmed that he retired to study, and that +the money supported him in solitude for many months; but his +friends declared that the short time in which it was spent +sufficiently confuted his own account of his conduct.</p> +<p>His politeness and his wit still raised him friends who were +desirous of setting him at length free from that indigence by +which he had been hitherto oppressed; and therefore solicited Sir +Robert Walpole in his 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 promise 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.”</p> +<p>Mr. Savage now concluded himself set at ease for ever, and, as +he observes in a poem written on that incident of his life, +trusted, and was trusted; but soon found that his confidence was +ill-grounded, and this friendly promise was not inviolable. He +spent a long time in solicitations, and at last despaired and +desisted. He did not indeed deny that he had given the minister +some reason to believe that he should not strengthen his own +interest by advancing him, for he had taken care to distinguish +himself in coffee-houses, as an advocate for the ministry of the +last years of Queen Anne, and was always ready to justify the +conduct, and exalt the character, of Lord Bolingbroke, whom he +mentions with great regard in an Epistle upon Authors, which he +wrote about that time, but was too wise to publish, and of which +only some fragments have appeared, inserted by him in the +Magazine after his retirement.</p> +<p>To despair was not, however, the character of Savage; when one +patronage failed, he had recourse to another. The Prince was now +extremely popular, and had very liberally rewarded the merit of +some writers whom Mr. Savage did not think superior to himself, +and therefore he resolved to address a poem to him. For this +purpose he made choice of a subject 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 some time to Richmond, that he +might prosecute his design in full tranquillity, without the +temptations of pleasure, or the solicitations of creditors, by +which his meditations were in equal danger of being disconcerted, +he produced a poem “On Public Spirit, with regard to Public +Works.”</p> +<p>The plan of this poem is very extensive, and comprises a +multitude of topics, each of which might furnish matter +sufficient for a long performance, and of which some have already +employed more eminent writers; but as he was perhaps not fully +acquainted with the whole extent of his own design, and was +writing to obtain a supply of wants too pressing to admit of long +or accurate inquiries, he passes negligently over many public +works which, even in his own opinion, deserved to be more +elaborately treated.</p> +<p>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 +susceptible of embellishments, more adapted to exalt the ideas +and affect the passions, than many of those which have hitherto +been thought most worthy of the ornament of verse. The settlement +of colonies in uninhabited countries, the establishment of those +in security whose misfortunes have made their own country no +longer pleasing or safe, the acquisition of property without +injury to any, the appropriation of the waste and luxuriant +bounties of nature, and the enjoyment of those gifts which Heaven +has scattered upon regions uncultivated and unoccupied, cannot be +considered without giving rise to a great number of pleasing +ideas, and bewildering the imagination in delightful prospects; +and therefore, whatever speculations they may produce in those +who have confined themselves to political studies, naturally +fixed the attention, and excited the applause, of a poet. The +politician, when he considers men 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 suffer or fear in +their native place, may very properly inquire why the legislature +does not provide a remedy for these miseries rather than +encourage an escape from them. He may conclude that the flight of +every honest man is a loss to the community; that those who are +unhappy without guilt ought to be relieved; and the life which is +overburthened by accidental calamities set at ease by the care of +the public; and that those who have by misconduct forfeited their +claim to favour ought rather to be made useful to the society +which they have injured than be driven from it. But the poet is +employed in a more pleasing undertaking than that of proposing +laws which, however just or expedient, will never be made; or +endeavouring to reduce to rational schemes of government +societies which were formed by chance, and are conducted by the +private passions of those who preside in them. He guides the +unhappy fugitive, from want and persecution, to plenty, quiet, +and security, and seats him in scenes of peaceful solitude and +undisturbed repose.</p> +<p>Savage has not forgotten, amidst the pleasing sentiments which +this prospect of retirement suggested to him, 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 barbarous nations because they cannot resist, and of +invading countries because they are fruitful; of extending +navigation only to propagate vice; and of visiting distant lands +only to lay them waste. 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 affords another instance of his +proficiency in the important and extensive study of human life; +and the tenderness with which he recounts them, another proof of +his humanity and benevolence.</p> +<p>It is observable that the close of this poem discovers a +change which experience had made in Mr. Savage’s opinions. +In a poem written by him in his youth, and published in his +Miscellanies, he declares his contempt of the contracted views +and narrow prospects of the middle state of life, and declares +his resolution either to tower like the cedar, or be trampled +like the shrub; but in this poem, though addressed to a prince, +he mentions this state of life as comprising those who ought most +to attract reward, those who merit most the confidence of power +and the familiarity of greatness; and, accidentally mentioning +this passage to one of his friends, declared that in his opinion +all the virtue of mankind was comprehended in that state.</p> +<p>In describing villas and gardens he did not omit to condemn +that absurd custom which prevails among the English of permitting +servants to receive money from strangers for the entertainment +that they receive, and therefore inserted in his poem these +lines:</p> +<p class="poetry">“But what the flowering pride of gardens +rare,<br /> +However royal, or however fair,<br /> +If gates which to excess should still give way,<br /> +Ope but, like Peter’s paradise, for pay;<br /> +If perquisited varlets frequent stand,<br /> +And each new walk must a new tax demand;<br /> +What foreign eye but with contempt surveys?<br /> +What Muse shall from oblivion snatch their praise?”</p> +<p>But before the publication of his performance he recollected +that the queen allowed her garden and cave at Richmond to be +shown for money; and that she so openly countenanced the practice +that she had bestowed the privilege of showing them as a place of +profit on a man whose merit she valued herself upon rewarding, +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 as an insult upon the queen, to whom he owed his life +and his subsistence; and that the propriety of his observation +would be no security against the censures which the +unseasonableness of it might draw upon him; he therefore +suppressed the passage in the first edition, but after the +queen’s death thought the same caution no longer necessary, +and restored it to the proper place. The poem was, therefore, +published without any political faults, and inscribed to the +prince; but Mr. Savage, having no friend upon whom he could +prevail to present it to him, had no other method of attracting +his observation than the publication of frequent advertisements, +and therefore received no reward from his patron, however +generous on other occasions. This disappointment he never +mentioned without indignation, being by some means or other +confident that the prince was not ignorant of his address to him; +and insinuated that if any advances in 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 poem +in person and sent to the printer for a copy with that design; +but either his opinion changed or his resolution deserted him, +and he continued to resent neglect without attempting to force +himself into regard. Nor was the public much more favourable than +his patron; for only seventy-two were sold, though the +performance was much commended by some whose judgment in that +kind of writing is generally allowed. But Savage easily +reconciled himself to mankind without imputing any defect to his +work, by observing that his poem was unluckily published two days +after the prorogation of the parliament, and by consequence at a +time when all those who could be expected to regard it 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 of Mr. Savage’s +works; and that, though it cannot be denied to contain many +striking sentiments, majestic lines, and just observations, it is +in general not sufficiently polished in the language, or +enlivened in the imagery, or digested in the plan. Thus his poem +contributed nothing to the alleviation of his poverty, which was +such as very few could have supported with equal patience; but to +which it must likewise be confessed that few would have been +exposed who received punctually fifty pounds a year; a salary +which, though by no means equal to the demands of vanity and +luxury, is yet found sufficient to support families above want, +and was undoubtedly more than the necessities of life +require.</p> +<p>But no sooner had he received his pension than he withdrew to +his darling privacy, from which he returned in a short time to +his former distress, and 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 recompense for his +entertainment. He lodged as much by accident as he dined, and +passed the night sometimes in mean houses which are set open at +night to any casual wanderers; sometimes in cellars, among the +riot and filth of the meanest and most profligate of the rabble; +and sometimes, when he had not money to support even the expenses +of these receptacles, walked about the streets till he was weary, +and lay down in the summer upon the bulk, or in the winter, with +his associate, in poverty, among the ashes of a glass-house.</p> +<p>In this manner were passed those days and those nights which +nature had enabled him to have employed in elevated speculations, +useful studies, or pleasing conversation. On a bulk, in a cellar, +or in a glass-house, among thieves and beggars, was to be found +the author of “The Wanderer,” the man of exalted +sentiments, extensive views, and curious observations; the man +whose remarks on life might have assisted the statesman, whose +ideas of virtue might have enlightened 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 it is probable that these lines in “The +Wanderer” were occasioned by his reflections on his own +conduct:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Though misery leads to happiness and +truth,<br /> +Unequal to the load this languid youth,<br /> +(Oh, let none censure, if, untried by grief,<br /> +If, amidst woe, untempted by relief),<br /> +He stooped reluctant to low arts of shame,<br /> +Which then, e’en then, he scorned, and blushed to +name.”</p> +<p>Whoever was acquainted with him was certain to be solicited +for small sums, which the frequency of the request made in time +considerable; and he was therefore quickly shunned by those who +were become familiar enough to be trusted with his necessities; +but his 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 exhausted by repeated +requests; so that he was seldom absolutely without resources, but +had in his utmost exigencies this comfort, that he always +imagined himself sure of speedy relief. It was observed that he +always asked favours of this kind without the least submission or +apparent consciousness of dependence, and that he did not seem to +look upon a compliance with his request as an obligation that +deserved any extraordinary acknowledgments; but a refusal was +resented by him as an affront, or complained of as an injury; nor +did he readily reconcile himself to those who either denied to +lend, or gave him afterwards any intimation that they expected to +be repaid. He was sometimes so far compassionated by those who +knew both his merit and distresses that they received him into +their families, but they soon discovered him to be a very +incommodious inmate; for, being always accustomed to an irregular +manner of life, he could not confine himself to 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; and, +when he had persuaded himself to retire to bed, was not, without +equal difficulty, called up to dinner: it was therefore +impossible to pay him any distinction without the entire +subversion of all economy, a kind of establishment which, +wherever he went, he always appeared ambitious to overthrow. It +must therefore be acknowledged, in justification of mankind, that +it was not always by the negligence or coldness of his friends +that Savage was distressed, but because it was in reality very +difficult to preserve him long in a state of ease. To supply him +with money was a hopeless attempt; for no sooner did he see +himself master of a sum sufficient to set him free from care for +a day than he became profuse and luxurious. When once he had +entered a tavern, or engaged in a scheme of pleasure, he never +retired till want of money obliged him to some new expedient. If +he was entertained in a family, nothing was any longer to be +regarded there but amusement and jollity; wherever Savage +entered, he immediately expected that order and business should +fly before him, that all should thenceforward be left to hazard, +and that no dull principle of domestic management should be +opposed to his inclination or intrude upon his gaiety. His +distresses, however afflictive, never dejected him; in his lowest +state he wanted not spirit to assert the natural dignity of wit, +and was always ready to repress that insolence which the +superiority of fortune incited, and to trample on that reputation +which rose upon any other basis than that of merit: he never +admitted any gross familiarities, or submitted to be treated +otherwise than as an equal. Once when he was without lodging, +meat, or clothes, one of his friends, a man indeed not remarkable +for moderation in his prosperity, left a message that he desired +to see him about nine in the morning. Savage knew that his +intention was to assist him, but was very much disgusted that he +should presume to prescribe the hour of his attendance, and, I +believe, refused to visit him, and rejected his kindness.</p> +<p>The same invincible temper, whether firmness or obstinacy, +appeared in his conduct to the Lord Tyrconnel, from whom he very +frequently demanded that the allowance which was once paid him +should be restored; but with whom he never appeared to entertain +for a moment the thought of soliciting a reconciliation, and whom +he treated at once with all the haughtiness of superiority and +all 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, if he ever regained his +allowance, to hold it only by the right of conquest.</p> +<p>As many more can discover that a man is richer than that he is +wiser than themselves, superiority of understanding is not so +readily acknowledged as that of fortune; nor is that haughtiness +which the consciousness of great abilities incites, borne with +the same submission as the tyranny of affluence; and therefore +Savage, by asserting his claim to deference and regard, and by +treating those with contempt whom better fortune animated to +rebel against him, did not fail to raise a great number of +enemies in the different classes of mankind. Those who thought +themselves raised above him by the advantages of riches hated him +because they found no protection from the petulance of his wit. +Those who were esteemed for their writings feared him as a +critic, and maligned him as a rival; and almost all the smaller +wits were his professed enemies.</p> +<p>Among these Mr. Miller so far indulged his resentment as to +introduce him in a farce, and direct him to be personated on the +stage in a dress like that which he then wore; a mean insult, +which only insinuated that Savage had but one coat, and which was +therefore 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; of which the publication would indeed have +been a punishment too severe for so impotent an assault.</p> +<p>The great hardships of poverty were to Savage not the want of +lodging or food, but the neglect and contempt which it drew upon +him. He complained that, as his affairs grew desperate, he found +his reputation for capacity visibly decline; that his opinion in +questions of criticism 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 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 time in the consideration of +his plan, and not presume to sit down to write in consequence of +a few cursory ideas and a superficial knowledge; difficulties +were started on all sides, and he was no longer qualified for any +performance but “The Volunteer Laureate.”</p> +<p>Yet even this kind of contempt never depressed him: for he +always preserved a steady confidence in his own capacity, and +believed nothing above his reach which he should at any time +earnestly endeavour to attain. He formed schemes of the same kind +with regard to knowledge and to fortune, and flattered himself +with advances to be made in science, as with riches, to be +enjoyed in some distant period of his life. For the acquisition +of knowledge he was indeed much better qualified than for that of +riches; for he was naturally inquisitive, and desirous of the +conversation of those from whom any information was to be +obtained, but by no means solicitous to improve those +opportunities that were sometimes offered of raising his fortune; +and he was remarkably retentive of his ideas, which, when once he +was in possession of them, rarely forsook him; a quality which +could never be communicated to his money.</p> +<p>While he was thus wearing out his life in expectation that the +queen would some time recollect her promise, he had recourse to +the usual practice of writers, and published proposals for +printing his works by subscription, to which he was encouraged by +the success of many who had not a better right to the favour of +the public; but, whatever was the reason, he did not find the +world equally inclined to favour him; and he observed with some +discontent, that though he offered his works at half a guinea, he +was able to procure but a small number in comparison with those +who subscribed twice as much to Duck. Nor was it without +indignation that he saw his proposals neglected by the queen, who +patronised Mr. Duck’s with uncommon ardour, and incited a +competition among those who attended the court who should most +promote his interest, and who should first offer a subscription. +This was a distinction to which Mr. Savage made no scruple of +asserting that his birth, his misfortunes, and his genius, gave a +fairer title than could be pleaded by him on whom it was +conferred.</p> +<p>Savage’s applications were, however, not universally +unsuccessful; for some of the nobility countenanced his design, +encouraged his proposals, and subscribed with great liberality. +He related of the Duke of Chandos particularly, that upon +receiving his proposals he sent him ten guineas. But the money +which his subscriptions afforded him was not less volatile than +that which he received from his other schemes; whenever a +subscription was paid him, he went to a tavern; and as money so +collected is necessarily received in small sums, he never was +able to send his poems to the press, but for many years continued +his solicitation, and squandered whatever he obtained.</p> +<p>The project of printing his works was frequently revived; and +as his proposals grew obsolete, new ones were printed with +fresher dates. To form 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 +adjusting the print, forming the advertisements, and regulating +the dispersion of his new edition, which he really intended some +time to publish, and which, as long as experience had shown him +the impossibility of printing the volume together, he at last +determined to divide into weekly or monthly numbers, that the +profits of the first might supply the expenses of the next.</p> +<p>Thus he spent his time in mean expedients and tormenting +suspense, living for the greatest part in fear of prosecutions +from his creditors, and consequently skulking in obscure parts of +the town, of which he was no stranger to the remotest corners. +But wherever he came, his address secured him friends, whom his +necessities soon alienated; so that he had perhaps a more +numerous acquaintance than any man ever before attained, there +being scarcely any person eminent on any account to whom he was +not known, or whose character he was not in some degree able to +delineate. To the acquisition of this extensive acquaintance +every circumstance of his life contributed. He excelled in the +arts of conversation, and therefore willingly practised them. He +had seldom any home, or even a lodging, in which he could be +private, and therefore was driven into public-houses for the +common conveniences of life and supports of nature. He was always +ready to comply with every invitation, having no employment to +withhold him, and often no money to provide for himself; and by +dining with one company he never failed of obtaining an +introduction into another.</p> +<p>Thus dissipated was his life, and thus casual his subsistence; +yet did not the distraction of his views hinder him from +reflection, nor the uncertainty of his condition depress his +gaiety. When he had wandered about without any fortunate +adventure by which he was led into a tavern, he sometimes retired +into the fields, and was able to employ his mind in study, to +amuse it with pleasing imaginations; and seldom appeared to be +melancholy but when some sudden misfortune had just fallen upon +him; and even then in a few moments he would disentangle himself +from his perplexity, adopt the subject of conversation, and apply +his mind wholly to the objects that others presented to it. This +life, unhappy as it may be already imagined, was yet embittered +in 1738 with new calamities. The death of the queen deprived him +of all the prospects of preferment with which he so long +entertained his imagination; and as Sir Robert Walpole had before +given him reason to believe that he never intended the +performance of his promise, he was now abandoned again to +fortune. He was, however, at that time supported by a friend; and +as it was not his custom to look out for distant calamities, or +to feel any other pain than that which forced itself upon his +senses, he was not much afflicted at his loss, and perhaps +comforted himself that his pension would be now continued without +the annual tribute of a panegyric. Another expectation +contributed likewise to support him; he had taken a resolution to +write a second tragedy upon the story of Sir Thomas Overbury, in +which he preserved a few lines of his former play, but made a +total alteration of the plan, added new incidents, and introduced +new characters; so that it was a new tragedy, not a revival of +the former.</p> +<p>Many of his friends blamed him for not making choice of +another subject; but in vindication of himself he asserted that +it was not easy to find a better; and that he thought it his +interest to extinguish the memory of the first tragedy, which he +could only do by writing one less defective upon the same story; +by which he should entirely defeat the artifice of the +booksellers, who, after the death of any author of reputation, +are always industrious to swell his works by uniting his worst +productions with his best. In the execution of this scheme, +however, he proceeded but slowly, and probably only employed +himself upon it when he could find no other amusement; but he +pleased himself with counting the profits, and perhaps imagined +that the theatrical reputation which he was about to acquire +would be equivalent to all that he had lost by the death of his +patroness. He did not, in confidence of his approaching riches, +neglect the measures proper to secure the continuance of his +pension, though some of his favourers thought him culpable for +omitting to write on her death; but on her birthday next year he +gave a proof of the solidity of his judgment and the power of his +genius. He knew that the track of elegy had been so long beaten +that it was impossible to travel in it without treading in the +footsteps of those who had gone before him; and that therefore it +was necessary, that he might distinguish himself from the herd of +encomiasts, to find out some new walk of funeral panegyric. This +difficult task he performed in such a manner that his poem may be +justly ranked among the best pieces that the death of princes has +produced. By transferring the mention of her death to her +birthday, 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 relation +between them appears natural; and it may be justly said that what +no other man would have thought on, it now appears scarcely +possible for any man to miss.</p> +<p>The beauty of this peculiar combination of images is so +masterly that it is sufficient to set this poem above censure; +and therefore it is not necessary to mention many other delicate +touches which may be found in it, and which would deservedly be +admired in 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 artful +manner, of continuing his pension.</p> +<p>With regard to the success of his address he was for some time +in suspense, but was in no great degree solicitous about it; and +continued his labour upon his new tragedy with great +tranquillity, till the friend who had for a considerable time +supported him, removing his family to another place, took +occasion to dismiss him. It then became necessary to inquire more +diligently what was determined in his affair, having reason to +suspect that no great favour was intended him, because he had not +received his pension at the usual time.</p> +<p>It is said that he did not take those methods of retrieving +his interest which were most likely to succeed; and some of those +who were employed in the Exchequer cautioned him against too much +violence in his proceedings; but Mr. Savage, who seldom regulated +his conduct by the advice of others, gave way to his passion, and +demanded of Sir Robert Walpole, at his levée, 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.</p> +<p>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 required to +finish it.</p> +<p>So peculiar were the misfortunes of this man, deprived of an +estate and title by a particular law, exposed 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; and though +his abilities forced themselves into esteem and reputation, he +was never able to obtain any real advantage; and whatever +prospects arose, were always intercepted as he began to approach +them. The king’s intentions in his favour were frustrated; +his dedication to the prince, whose generosity on every other +occasion was eminent, procured him no reward; Sir Robert Walpole, +who valued himself upon keeping his promise to others, broke it +to him without regret; and the bounty of the queen was, after her +death, withdrawn from him, and from him only.</p> +<p>Such were his misfortunes, which yet he bore, not only with +decency, but with cheerfulness; nor was his gaiety clouded even +by his last disappointments, though he was in a short time +reduced to the lowest degree of distress, and often wanted both +lodging and food. At this time he gave another instance of the +insurmountable obstinacy of his spirit: his clothes were worn +out, and he received notice that at a coffee-house some clothes +and linen were left for him: the person who sent them did not, I +believe, inform him to whom he was to be obliged, that he might +spare the perplexity of acknowledging the benefit; but though the +offer was so far generous, it 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 taken away.</p> +<p>His distress was now publicly known, and his friends therefore +thought it proper to concert some measures for his relief; and +one of them [Pope] wrote a letter to him, in which he expressed +his concern “for the miserable withdrawing of this +pension;” and gave him hopes that in a short time he should +find himself supplied with a competence, “without any +dependence on those little creatures which we are pleased to call +the Great.” The scheme proposed for this happy and +independent 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 +further care of reputation. This offer Mr. Savage gladly +accepted, though with intentions very different from those of his +friends; for they proposed that he should continue an exile from +London for ever, and spend all the remaining part of his life at +Swansea; but he designed only to take the opportunity which their +scheme offered him of retreating for a short time, that he might +prepare his play for the stage, and his other works for the +press, and then to return to London to exhibit his tragedy, and +live upon the profits of his own labour. With regard to his works +he proposed very great improvements, which would have required +much time or great application; and, when he had finished them, +he designed to do justice to his subscribers by publishing them +according to his proposals. As he was ready to entertain himself +with future pleasures, he had planned out a scheme of life for +the country, of which he had no knowledge but from pastorals and +songs. He imagined that he should be transported to scenes of +flowery felicity, like those which one poet has reflected to +another; 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 +submitting to live upon a subscription, and advised rather by a +resolute exertion of his abilities to support himself, he could +not bear to debar himself from the happiness which was to be +found in the calm of a cottage, or lose the opportunity of +listening, without intermission, to the 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 of a country life.</p> +<p>While this scheme was ripening, his friends directed him to +take a lodging in the liberties of the Fleet, that he might be +secure from his creditors, and sent him every Monday a guinea, +which he commonly spent before the next morning, and trusted, +after his usual manner, the remaining part of the week to the +bounty of fortune.</p> +<p>He now began very sensibly to feel the miseries of dependence. +Those by whom he was to be supported began to prescribe to him +with an air of authority, 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 tailor his orders for +what they thought proper to allow him, they proposed to send for +a tailor to take his measure, and then to consult how they should +equip him. This treatment was not very delicate, nor was it such +as Savage’s humanity would have suggested to him on a like +occasion; but it had scarcely deserved mention, had it not, by +affecting him in an uncommon degree, shown the peculiarity of his +character. Upon hearing the design that was formed, he came to +the lodging of a friend with the most violent agonies of rage; +and, being asked what it could be that gave him such disturbance, +he replied with the utmost vehemence of indignation, “That +they had sent for a tailor to measure him.”</p> +<p>How the affair ended was never inquired, for fear of renewing +his uneasiness. It is probable that, upon recollection, 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 universal compliance; for +when the gentleman who had first informed him of the design to +support him by a subscription attempted to procure a +reconciliation with the Lord Tyrconnel, he could by no means be +prevailed upon to comply with the measures that were +proposed.</p> +<p>A letter was written for him to Sir William Lemon, to prevail +upon him to interpose his good offices with Lord Tyrconnel, in +which he solicited Sir William’s assistance “for a +man who really needed it as much as any man could well do;” +and informed him that he was retiring “for ever to a place +where he should no more trouble his relations, friends, or +enemies;” he confessed that his passion had betrayed him to +some conduct, with regard to Lord Tyrconnel, for which he could +not but heartily ask his pardon; and as he imagined 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 soften him; and expressed his hopes that he +would comply with this request, and that “so small a +relation would not harden his heart against him.”</p> +<p>That any man should presume to dictate a letter to him was not +very agreeable to Mr. Savage; and therefore he was, before he had +opened it, not much inclined to approve it. But when he read it +he found it contained sentiments entirely opposite to his own, +and, as he asserted, to the truth; and therefore, instead of +copying it, wrote his friend a letter full of masculine +resentment and warm expostulations. He very justly observed, that +the style was too supplicatory, and the representation too +abject, and that he ought at least to have made him complain with +“the dignity of a gentleman in distress.” He +declared that he would not write the paragraph in which he was to +ask Lord Tyrconnel’s pardon; for, “he despised his +pardon, and therefore could not heartily, and would not +hypocritically, ask it.” He remarked that his friend +made a very unreasonable distinction between himself and him; +for, says he, “when you mention men of high rank in your +own character,” they are “those little creatures whom +we are pleased to call the Great;” but when you address +them “in mine,” no servility is sufficiently humble. +He then with propriety explained the ill consequences which might +be expected from such a letter, which his relations would print +in their own defence, and which would for ever be produced as a +full answer to all that he should allege against them; for he +always intended to publish a minute account of the treatment +which he had received. It is to be remembered, to the honour of +the gentleman by whom this letter was drawn up, that he yielded +to Mr. Savage’s reasons, and agreed that it ought to be +suppressed.</p> +<p>After many alterations and delays, a subscription was at +length raised, which did not amount to fifty pounds a year, +though twenty were paid by one gentleman; such was the generosity +of mankind, that what had been done by a player without +solicitation, could not now be effected by application and +interest; and Savage had a great number to court and to obey for +a pension less than that which Mrs. Oldfield paid him without +exacting any servilities. Mr. Savage, however, was satisfied, and +willing to retire, and was convinced that the allowance, though +scanty, would be more than sufficient for him, being now +determined to commence a rigid economist, and to live according +to the exact rules of frugality; for nothing was in his opinion +more contemptible than a man who, when he knew his income, +exceeded it; and yet he confessed that instances of such folly +were too common, and lamented that some men were not trusted with +their own money.</p> +<p>Full of these salutary resolutions, he left London in July, +1739, having taken leave with great tenderness of his friends, +and parted from the author of this narrative with tears in his +eyes. He was furnished with fifteen guineas, and informed that +they would be sufficient, not only for the expense of his +journey, but for his support in Wales for some time; and that +there remained but little more of the first collection. He +promised a strict adherence to his maxims of parsimony, and went +away in the stage-coach; nor did his friends expect to hear from +him till he informed them of his arrival at Swansea. But when +they least expected, arrived a letter dated the fourteenth day +after his departure, in which he sent them word that he was yet +upon the road, and without money; and that he therefore could not +proceed without a remittance. They then sent him the money that +was in their hands, with which he was enabled to reach Bristol, +from whence he was to go to Swansea by water.</p> +<p>At Bristol he found an embargo laid upon the shipping, so that +he could not immediately obtain a passage; and being therefore +obliged to stay there some time, he with his usual felicity +ingratiated himself with many of the principal inhabitants, was +invited to their houses, distinguished at their public feasts, +and treated with a regard that gratified his vanity, and +therefore easily engaged his affection.</p> +<p>He began very early after his retirement to complain of the +conduct of his friends in London, and irritated many of 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 pounds a year, which were allowed him by the +gentleman who proposed the subscription.</p> +<p>After some stay at Bristol he retired to Swansea, the place +originally proposed for his residence, where he lived about a +year, very much dissatisfied with the diminution of his salary; +but contracted, as in other places, acquaintance with those who +were most distinguished in that country, among whom he has +celebrated Mr. Powel and Mrs. Jones, by some verses which he +inserted in <i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i>. Here he +completed his tragedy, of which two acts were wanting when he +left London; and was desirous of coming to town, to bring it upon +the stage. This design was very warmly opposed; and he was +advised, 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 receive the profits, out of which an +annual pension should be paid him.</p> +<p>This proposal he rejected with the utmost contempt. He was by +no means convinced that the judgment of those to whom he was +required to submit was superior to his own. He was now +determined, as he expressed it, to be “no longer kept in +leading-strings,” and had no elevated idea of “his +bounty, who proposed to pension him out of the profits of his own +labours.”</p> +<p>He attempted in Wales to promote a subscription for his works, +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 reasonable 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 allowance +to a salary scarcely equal to the necessities of life. His +resentment of this treatment, which, in his own opinion at least, +he had not deserved, was such, that he broke off all +correspondence with most of his contributors, and appeared to +consider them as persecutors and oppressors; and in the latter +part of his life declared that their conduct towards him since +his departure from London “had been perfidiousness +improving on perfidiousness, and inhumanity on +inhumanity.”</p> +<p>It is not to be supposed that the necessities of Mr. Savage +did not sometimes incite him to satirical exaggerations of the +behaviour of those by whom he thought himself reduced to them. +But it must be granted that the diminution of his allowance was a +great hardship, and that those who withdrew their subscription +from a man who, upon the faith of their promise, had gone into a +kind of banishment, and abandoned all those by whom he had been +before relieved in his distresses, will find it no easy task to +vindicate their conduct. It may be alleged, and perhaps justly, +that he was petulant and contemptuous; that he more frequently +reproached his subscribers for not 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 man whom +he has persuaded to put himself into his power.</p> +<p>It might have been reasonably demanded by Savage, that they +should, before they had taken away what they promised, have +replaced him in his former state, that they should have taken no +advantages from the situation to which the appearance of their +kindness had reduced him, and that he should have been recalled +to London before he was abandoned. He might justly represent, +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 which he had formerly found, invited him to stay. He was +not only caressed and treated, but had a collection made for him +of about thirty pounds, with which it had been happy if he had +immediately departed for London; but his negligence did not +suffer him to consider that such proofs of kindness were not +often to be expected, and that this ardour of benevolence was in +a great degree the effect of novelty, and might, probably, be +every day less; and therefore he took no care to improve the +happy time, but was encouraged by one favour to hope for another, +till at length generosity was exhausted, and officiousness +wearied.</p> +<p>Another part of his misconduct was the practice of prolonging +his visits to unseasonable hours, and disconcerting all the +families into which he was admitted. This was an error in a place +of commerce which all the charms of his conversation could not +compensate; for what trader would purchase such airy satisfaction +by the loss of solid gain, 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, after +the curiosity of the inhabitants was gratified, found the number +of his friends daily decreasing, perhaps without suspecting for +what reason their conduct was altered; for he still continued to +harass, with his nocturnal intrusions, those that yet +countenanced him, and admitted him to their houses.</p> +<p>But he did not spend all the time of his residence at Bristol +in visits or at taverns, for he sometimes returned to his +studies, and began several considerable designs. When he felt an +inclination to write, he always retired from the knowledge of his +friends, and lay hid in an obscure part of the suburbs, till he +found himself again desirous of company, to which it is likely +that intervals of absence made him more welcome. He was always +full of his design of returning to London, to bring his tragedy +upon the stage; but, having neglected to depart with the money +that was raised for him, he could not afterwards procure a sum +sufficient to defray the expenses of his journey; nor perhaps +would a 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. His conduct had already wearied +some of those who were at first enamoured of his conversation; +but he might, perhaps, still have devolved to others, whom he +might have entertained with equal success, had not the decay of +his clothes made it no longer consistent with their vanity to +admit him to their tables, or to associate with him in public +places. He now began to find every man from home at whose house +he called; 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.</p> +<p>To complete his misery, he was pursued by the officers for +small debts which he had contracted; and was therefore obliged to +withdraw from the small number of friends from whom he had still +reason to hope for favours. His custom was to lie in bed the +greatest part of the day, and to get out in the dark with the +utmost privacy, and, after having paid his visit, return again +before morning to his lodging, which was in the garret of an +obscure inn. Being thus excluded on one hand, and confined on the +other, he suffered the utmost extremities of poverty, and often +fasted so long that he was seized with faintness, and had lost +his appetite, not being able to bear the smell of meat till the +action of his stomach was restored by a cordial. In this +distress, he received a remittance of five pounds from London, +with which he provided himself a decent coat, and determined to +go to London, but unhappily spent his money at a favourite +tavern. Thus was he again confined to Bristol, where he was every +day hunted by bailiffs. In this exigence he once more found a +friend, who sheltered him in his house, though at the usual +inconveniences with which his company was attended; for he could +neither be persuaded to go to bed in the night nor to rise in the +day.</p> +<p>It is observable, that in these various scenes of misery he +was always disengaged and cheerful: he at some times pursued his +studies, and at others continued or enlarged his epistolary +correspondence; nor was he ever so far dejected as to endeavour +to procure an increase of his allowance by any other methods than +accusations and reproaches.</p> +<p>He had now no longer any hopes of assistance from his friends +at Bristol, who as merchants, and by consequence sufficiently +studious of profit, cannot be supposed to have looked with much +compassion upon negligence and extravagance, or to think any +excellence equivalent to a fault of such consequence as neglect +of economy. It is natural to imagine, that many of those 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 be only +momentary, and that the same necessity would quickly return.</p> +<p>At last he quitted the house of his friend, and returned to +his lodgings at the inn, still intending to set out in a few days +for London, but on the 10th of January, 1742–3, having been +at supper with two of his friends, he was at his return to his +lodgings arrested for a debt of about eight pounds, which he owed +at a coffee-house, and conducted to the house of a +sheriff’s officer. The account which he gives of this +misfortune, in a letter to one of the gentlemen with whom he had +supped, is too remarkable to be omitted.</p> +<p>“It was not a little unfortunate for me, that I spent +yesterday’s evening with you; because the hour hindered me +from entering on my new lodging; however, I have now got one, but +such an one as I believe nobody would choose.</p> +<p>“I was arrested at the suit of Mrs. Read, just as I was +going upstairs 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 with the +utmost civility; and even when they conducted me to confinement, +it was in such a manner, that I verily believe I could have +escaped, which I would rather be ruined than have done, +notwithstanding the whole amount of my finances was but +threepence halfpenny.</p> +<p>“In the first place, I must insist that you will +industriously conceal this from Mrs. S—s, because I would +not have her good nature suffer that pain which I know she would +be apt to feel on this occasion.</p> +<p>“Next, I conjure you, dear sir, by all the ties of +friendship, by no means to have one uneasy thought on my account; +but to have the same pleasantry of countenance, and unruffled +serenity of mind, which (God be praised!) I have in this, and +have had in a much severer calamity. Furthermore, I charge you, +if you value my friendship as truly as I do yours, not to utter, +or even harbour, the least resentment against Mrs. Read. I +believe she has ruined me, but I freely forgive her; and (though +I will never more have any intimacy with her) I would, at a due +distance, rather do her an act of good than ill-will. Lastly +(pardon the expression), I absolutely command you not to offer me +any pecuniary assistance nor to attempt getting me any from any +one of your friends. At another time, or on any other occasion, +you may, dear friend, be well assured I would rather write to you +in the submissive style of a request than that of a peremptory +command.</p> +<p>“However, that my truly valuable friend may not think I +am too proud to ask a favour, let me entreat 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, but for the delivery of some +letters to people whose names I would not have known to +strangers.</p> +<p>“The civil treatment I have thus far met from those +whose prisoner I am, makes me thankful to the Almighty, that +though He has thought fit to visit me (on my birth-night) with +affliction, yet (such is His great goodness!) my affliction is +not without alleviating circumstances. I murmur not; but am all +resignation to the divine will. As to the world, I hope that I +shall be endued by Heaven with that presence of mind, that serene +dignity in misfortune, that constitutes the character of a true +nobleman; a dignity far beyond that of coronets; a nobility +arising from the just principles of philosophy, refined and +exalted by those of Christianity.”</p> +<p>He continued five days at the officer’s, in hopes that +he should be able to procure bail, and avoid the necessity of +going to prison. The state in which he passed his time, and the +treatment which he received, are very justly expressed by him in +a letter which he wrote to a friend: “The whole day,” +says he, “has been employed in various people’s +filling my head with their foolish chimerical systems, which has +obliged me coolly (as far as nature will admit) to digest, and +accommodate myself to every different person’s way of +thinking; hurried from one wild system to another, till it has +quite made a chaos of my imagination, and nothing +done—promised—disappointed—ordered to send, +every hour, from one part of the town to the other.”</p> +<p>When his friends, who had hitherto caressed and applauded, +found that to give bail and pay the debt was the same, they all +refused to preserve him from a prison at the expense of eight +pounds: and therefore, after having been for some time at the +officer’s house “at an immense expense,” as he +observes in his letter, he was at length removed to Newgate. This +expense he was enabled to support by the generosity of Mr. Nash +at Bath, who, upon receiving from him an account of his +condition, immediately sent him five guineas, and promised to +promote his subscription at Bath with all his interest.</p> +<p>By his removal to Newgate he obtained at least a freedom from +suspense, and rest from the disturbing vicissitudes of hope and +disappointment: he now found that his friends were only +companions who were willing to share his gaiety, but not to +partake of his misfortunes; and therefore he no longer expected +any assistance from them. It must, however, be observed of one +gentleman, that he offered to release him by paying the debt, but +that 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 collection should be made for his +enlargement; but he “treated the proposal,” and +declared “he should again treat it, with disdain. As to +writing any mendicant letters, he had too high a spirit, and +determined only to write to some ministers of state, to try to +regain his pension.”</p> +<p>He continued to complain of those that had sent him into the +country, and objected to them, that he had “lost the +profits of his play, which had been finished three years;” +and in another letter declares his resolution to publish a +pamphlet, that the world might know how “he had been +used.”</p> +<p>This pamphlet was never written; for he in a very short time +recovered his usual tranquillity, and cheerfully applied himself +to more inoffensive studies. He, indeed, steadily declared that +he was promised a yearly allowance of fifty pounds, and never +received half the sum; but he seemed to resign himself to that as +well as to other misfortunes, and lose the remembrance of it in +his amusements and employments. The cheerfulness with which he +bore his confinement appears from the following letter, which he +wrote January the 30th, to one of his friends in London:</p> +<p>“I now write to you from my confinement in Newgate, +where I have been ever since Monday last was se’nnight, and +where I enjoy myself with much more tranquillity than I have +known for upwards of a twelvemonth past; having a room entirely +to myself, and pursuing the amusement of my poetical studies, +uninterrupted, and agreeable to my mind. I thank the Almighty, I +am now all collected in myself; and, though my person is in +confinement, my mind can expatiate on ample and useful subjects +with all the freedom imaginable. I am now more conversant with +the Nine than ever, and if, instead of a Newgate bird, I may be +allowed to be a bird of the Muses, I assure you, sir, I sing very +freely in my cage; sometimes, indeed, in the plaintive notes of +the nightingale; but at others, in the cheerful strains of the +lark.”</p> +<p>In another letter he observes, that he ranges from one subject +to another, without confining himself to any particular task; and +that he was employed one week upon one attempt, and the next upon +another.</p> +<p>Surely the fortitude of this man deserves, at least, to be +mentioned with applause; and, whatever faults may be imputed to +him, the virtue of suffering well cannot be denied him. The two +powers which, in the opinion of Epictetus, constituted a wise +man, are those of bearing and forbearing, which it cannot indeed +be affirmed to have been equally possessed by Savage; and indeed +the want of one obliged him very frequently to practise the +other. He was treated by Mr. Dagge, the keeper of the prison, +with great humanity; was supported by him at his own table, +without any certainty of a recompense; had a room to himself, to +which he could at any time 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 than he had been accustomed to undergo in the greatest +part of his life.</p> +<p>The keeper did not confine his benevolence to a gentle +execution of his office, but made some overtures to the creditor +for his release, though without effect; and continued, during the +whole time of his imprisonment, to treat him with the utmost +tenderness and civility.</p> +<p>Virtue is undoubtedly most laudable in that state which makes +it most difficult; and therefore the humanity of a gaoler +certainly deserves this public attestation; 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 +engraved “to the honest toll-gatherer,” less honours +ought not to be paid “to the tender gaoler.”</p> +<p>Mr. Savage very frequently received visits, and sometimes +presents, from his acquaintances: but they did not amount to a +subsistence, for the greater part of which he was indebted to the +generosity of this keeper; but these favours, however they might +endear to him the particular persons from whom he received them, +were very far from impressing upon his mind any advantageous +ideas of the people of Bristol, and therefore he thought he could +not more properly employ himself in prison than in writing a poem +called “London and Bristol Delineated.”</p> +<p>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 that he was +determined to print it with his name; but enjoined him not to +communicate his intention to his Bristol acquaintance. The +gentleman, surprised at his resolution, endeavoured to persuade +him from publishing it, at least from prefixing his name; and +declared that he could not reconcile the injunction of secrecy +with his resolution to own it at its first appearance. To this +Mr. Savage returned an answer agreeable to his character, in the +following terms:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I received yours this morning; and not +without a little surprise at the contents. To answer a question +with a question, you ask me concerning London and Bristol, why +will I add <i>delineated</i>? Why did Mr. Woolaston add the +same word to his Religion of Nature? I suppose that it was +his will and pleasure to add it in his case: and it is mine to do +so in my own. You are pleased to tell me that you understand not +why secrecy is enjoined, and yet I intend to set my name to it. +My answer is,—I have my private reasons, which I am not +obliged to explain to any one. You doubt my friend Mr. S— +would not approve of it. And what is it to me whether he does or +not? Do you imagine that Mr. S— is to dictate to +me? If any man who calls himself my friend should assume +such an air, I would spurn at his friendship with contempt. You +say, I seem to think so by not letting him know it. And suppose I +do, what then? Perhaps I can give reasons for that +disapprobation, very foreign from what you would imagine. You go +on in saying, Suppose I should not put my name to it. My answer +is, that I will not suppose any such thing, being determined to +the contrary: neither, sir, would I have you suppose that I +applied to you for want of another press: nor would I have you +imagine that I owe Mr. S— obligations which I do +not.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such was his imprudence, and such his obstinate adherence to +his own resolutions, however absurd! A prisoner! supported +by charity! and, whatever insults he might have received during +the latter part of his stay at Bristol, once caressed, esteemed, +and presented with a liberal collection, he could forget on a +sudden his danger and his obligations, to gratify the petulance +of his wit or the eagerness of his resentment, and publish a +satire by which he might reasonably expect that he should +alienate those who then supported him, and provoke those whom he +could neither resist nor escape.</p> +<p>This resolution, from the execution of which it is probable +that only his death could have hindered him, is sufficient to +show how much he disregarded all considerations that opposed his +present passions, and how readily he hazarded all future +advantages for any immediate gratifications. Whatever was his +predominant inclination, neither hope nor fear hindered him from +complying with it; nor had opposition any other effect than to +heighten his ardour and irritate his vehemence.</p> +<p>This performance was, however, laid aside while he was +employed in soliciting assistance from several great persons; and +one interruption succeeding another, 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 +rhyme to others, than to support or improve the sense; but the +first and last parts are worked up with great spirit and +elegance.</p> +<p>His time was spent in the prison for the most part in study, +or in receiving visits; but sometimes he descended to lower +amusements, and diverted himself in the kitchen with the +conversation of the criminals; for it 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, who +found him surrounded with felons; but the reproof was on that, as +on other occasions, thrown away; he continued 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 fellow-prisoners.</p> +<p>He had now ceased from corresponding with any of his +subscribers except one, who yet continued to remit him the twenty +pounds a year which he had promised him, and by whom it was +expected that he would have been in 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 to +the forms of the court, that the creditor might be obliged to +make him some allowance, if he was continued a prisoner, 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; and +he was informed that some of the merchants intended to pay the +allowance which the law required, and to detain him a prisoner at +their own expense. This he treated as an empty menace; and +perhaps might have hastened the publication, only to show how +much he was superior to their insults, had not all his schemes +been suddenly destroyed.</p> +<p>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 letter that +contained a charge of very atrocious ingratitude, drawn up in +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 +therefore mentioned by him with much resentment. Mr. Savage +returned a very solemn protestation of his innocence, but, +however, appeared much disturbed at the accusation. Some days +afterwards he was seized with a pain in his back and side, which, +as it was not violent, was not suspected to be dangerous; but +growing daily more languid and dejected, on the 25th of July he +confined himself to his room, and a fever seized his spirits. The +symptoms grew every day more formidable, but his condition did +not enable him to procure any assistance. The last time that the +keeper saw him was on July the 31st, 1743; when Savage, seeing +him at his bedside, said, with an uncommon earnestness, “I +have something to say to you, sir;” but, after a pause, +moved his hand in a melancholy manner; and, finding himself +unable to recollect what he was going to communicate, said, +“’Tis gone!” The keeper soon after left +him; and the next morning he died. He was buried in the +churchyard of St. Peter, at the expense of the keeper.</p> +<p>Such were the life and death of Richard Savage, a man equally +distinguished by his virtues and vices; and at once remarkable +for his weaknesses and abilities. He was of a middle stature, of +a thin habit of body, a 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 +into an engaging easiness of manners. His walk was slow, and his +voice tremulous and mournful. He was easily excited to smiles, +but very seldom provoked to laughter. His mind was in an uncommon +degree vigorous and active. His judgment was accurate, his +apprehension quick, and his memory so tenacious, that he was +frequently observed to know what he had learned from others, in a +short time, better that those by whom he was informed; and could +frequently recollect incidents with all their combination of +circumstances, which few would have regarded at the present time, +but which the quickness of his apprehension impressed upon him. +He had the art of escaping from his own reflections, and +accommodating himself to every new scene.</p> +<p>To this quality is to be imputed the extent of his knowledge, +compared with the small time which he spent in visible endeavours +to acquire it. He mingled in cursory conversation with the same +steadiness of attention as others apply to a lecture; and amidst +the appearance of thoughtless gaiety lost no new idea that was +started, nor any hint that could be improved. He had therefore +made in coffee-houses the same proficiency as others in their +closets; and it is remarkable that the writings of a man of +little 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.</p> +<p>His judgment was eminently exact both with regard to writings +and to men. The knowledge of life was indeed his chief +attainment; and it is not without some satisfaction that I can +produce the suffrage of Savage in favour of human nature, of +which he never appeared to entertain such odious ideas as some +who perhaps had neither his judgment nor experience, have +published, either in ostentation of their sagacity, vindication +of their crimes, or gratification of their malice.</p> +<p>His method of life particularly qualified him for +conversation, of which he knew how to practise all the graces. He +was never vehement or loud, but at once modest and easy, open and +respectful; his language was vivacious or elegant, and equally +happy upon grave and humorous subjects. He was generally censured +for not knowing when to retire; but that was not the defect of +his judgment, but of his fortune: when he left his company he +used frequently to spend the remaining part of the night in the +street, or at least was abandoned to gloomy reflections, which it +is not strange that he delayed as long as he could; and sometimes +forgot that he gave others pain to avoid it himself.</p> +<p>It cannot be said that he made use of his abilities for the +direction of his own conduct; an irregular and dissipated manner +of life had made him the slave of 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 was not master of his own motions, nor could promise anything +for the next day.</p> +<p>With regard to his economy, nothing can be added to the +relation of his life. He appeared to think himself born to be +supported by others, and dispensed from all necessity of +providing for himself; he therefore never prosecuted any scheme +of advantage, nor endeavoured 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 disgusted; but he +is accused of retaining his hatred more tenaciously than his +benevolence. He was compassionate both by nature and principle, +and always ready to perform offices of humanity; but when he was +provoked (and very small offences were sufficient to provoke +him), he would prosecute his revenge with the utmost acrimony +till his passion had subsided.</p> +<p>His friendship was therefore of little value; for though he +was zealous in the support or vindication of those whom he loved, +yet it was always dangerous to trust him, because he considered +himself as discharged by the first quarrel from all ties of +honour and gratitude; and would betray those secrets which in the +warmth of confidence had been imparted to him. This practice drew +upon him an universal accusation of ingratitude; nor can it be +denied that he was very ready to set himself free from the load +of an obligation; for he could not bear to conceive himself in a +state of dependence, 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 predominant: he could not easily +leave off, when he had once begun to mention himself or his +works; nor ever read his verses without stealing his eyes from +the page, to discover in the faces of his audience how they were +affected with any favourite passage.</p> +<p>A kinder name than that of vanity ought to be given to the +delicacy with which he was always careful to separate his own +merit from every other man’s, and to reject that praise to +which he had no claim. He did not forget, in mentioning his +performances, to mark every line that had been suggested or +amended; and was so accurate as to relate that he owed <i>three +words</i> 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 +sometimes the effect of falsehood.</p> +<p>In cases indifferent he was zealous for virtue, truth, and +justice: he knew very well the necessity of goodness to the +present and future happiness of mankind; nor is there perhaps any +writer who has less endeavoured to please by flattering the +appetites, or perverting the judgment.</p> +<p>As an author, therefore, and he now ceases to influence +mankind in any other character, if one piece which he had +resolved to suppress be excepted, he has very little to fear from +the strictest moral or religious censure. And though he may not +be altogether secure against the objections of the critic, it +must however be acknowledged that his works are the productions +of a genius truly poetical; and, what many writers who have been +more lavishly applauded cannot boast, that they have an original +air, which has no resemblance of any foregoing writer, that the +versification and sentiments have a cast peculiar to themselves, +which no man can imitate with success, because what was nature in +Savage would in another be affectation. It must be confessed that +his descriptions are striking, his images animated, his fictions +justly imagined, and his allegories artfully pursued; that his +diction is elevated, though sometimes forced, and his numbers +sonorous and majestic, though frequently sluggish and encumbered. +Of his style the general fault is harshness, and its general +excellence is dignity; of his sentiments, the prevailing beauty +is simplicity, and uniformity the prevailing defect.</p> +<p>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 instructed in his subject, his +knowledge was at least greater than could have been attained by +others in the same state. If his works were sometimes unfinished, +accuracy cannot reasonably be expected from a man oppressed with +want, which he has no hope of relieving but by a speedy +publication. The insolence and resentment of which he is accused +were not easily to be avoided by a great mind irritated by +perpetual hardships and constrained hourly to return the spurns +of contempt, and repress the insolence of prosperity; and vanity +surely may be readily pardoned in him, to whom life afforded no +other comforts than barren praises, and the consciousness of +deserving them.</p> +<p>Those are no proper judges of his conduct who have slumbered +away their time on the down of plenty; nor will any wise man +easily presume to say, “Had I been in Savage’s +condition, I should have lived or written better than +Savage.”</p> +<p>This relation will not be wholly without its use, if those who +languish under any part of his sufferings shall be enabled to +fortify their patience by reflecting that they feel only these +afflictions from which the abilities of Savage did not exempt +him; or those who, in confidence of superior capacities or +attainments, disregard the common maxims of life, shall be +reminded that nothing will supply the want of prudence; and that +negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make knowledge +useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible.</p> +<h2>SWIFT.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">An</span> account of Dr. Swift has been +already collected, with great diligence and acuteness, by Dr. +Hawkesworth, according to a scheme which I laid before him in the +intimacy of our friendship. I cannot therefore be expected to say +much of a life, concerning which I had long since communicated my +thoughts to a man capable of dignifying his narrations with so +much elegance of language and force of sentiment.</p> +<p>Jonathan Swift was, according to an account said to be written +by himself, the son of Jonathan Swift, an attorney, and was born +at Dublin on St. Andrew’s day, 1667: according to his own +report, as delivered by Pope to Spence, he was born at Leicester, +the son of a clergyman who was minister of a parish in +Herefordshire. During his life the place of his birth was +undetermined. He was contented to be called an Irishman by the +Irish; but would occasionally call himself an Englishman. The +question may, without much regret, be left in the obscurity in +which he delighted to involve it.</p> +<p>Whatever was his birth, his education was Irish. He was sent +at the age of six to the school at Kilkenny, and in his fifteenth +year (1682) was admitted into the University of Dublin. In his +academical studies he was either not diligent or not happy. It +must disappoint every reader’s expectation, that, when at +the usual time he claimed the Bachelorship of Arts, he was found +by the examiners too conspicuously deficient for regular +admission, and obtained his degree at last by <i>special +favour</i>; a term used in that university to denote want of +merit.</p> +<p>Of this disgrace it may be easily supposed that he was much +ashamed, and shame had its proper effect in producing +reformation. He resolved from that time to study eight hours a +day, and continued his industry for seven years, with what +improvement is sufficiently known. This part of his story well +deserves to be remembered; it may afford useful admonition and +powerful encouragement to men whose abilities have been made for +a time useless by their passions or pleasures, and who having +lost one part of life in idleness, are tempted to throw away the +remainder in despair. In this course of daily application he +continued three years longer at Dublin; and in this time, if the +observation and memory of an old companion may be trusted, he +drew the first sketch of his “Tale of a Tub.”</p> +<p>When he was about one-and-twenty (1688), being by the death of +Godwin Swift, his uncle, who had supported him, left without +subsistence, he went to consult his mother, who then lived at +Leicester, about the future course of his life; and by her +direction solicited the advice and patronage of Sir William +Temple, who had married one of Mrs. Swift’s relations, and +whose father Sir John Temple, Master of the Rolls in Ireland, had +lived in great familiarity of friendship with Godwin Swift, by +whom Jonathan had been to that time maintained.</p> +<p>Temple received with sufficient kindness the nephew of his +father’s friend, with whom he was, when they conversed +together, so much pleased, that he detained him two years in his +house. Here he became known to King William, who sometimes +visited Temple, when he was disabled by the gout, and, being +attended by Swift in the garden, showed him how to cut asparagus +in the Dutch way. King William’s notions were all military; +and he expressed his kindness to Swift by offering to make him a +captain of horse.</p> +<p>When Temple removed to Moor Park, he took Swift with him; and +when he was consulted by the Earl of Portland about the +expedience of complying with a bill then depending for making +parliaments triennial, against which King William was strongly +prejudiced, after having in vain tried to show the earl that the +proposal involved nothing dangerous to royal power, he sent Swift +for the same purpose to the king. Swift, who probably was proud +of his employment, and went with all the confidence of a young +man, found his arguments, and his art of displaying them, made +totally ineffectual by the predetermination of the king; and used +to mention this disappointment as his first antidote against +vanity. Before he left Ireland he contracted a disorder, as he +thought, by eating too much fruit. The original of diseases is +commonly obscure. Almost everybody eats as much fruit as he can +get, without any great inconvenience. The disease of Swift was +giddiness with deafness, which attacked him from time to time, +began very early, pursued him through life, and at last sent him +to the grave, deprived of reason. Being much oppressed at Moor +Park by this grievous malady, he was advised to try his native +air, and went to Ireland; but finding no benefit, returned to Sir +William, at whose house he continued his studies, and is known to +have read, among other books, Cyprian and Irenæus. He +thought exercise of great necessity, and used to run half a mile +up and down a hill every two hours.</p> +<p>It is easy to imagine that the mode in which his first degree +was conferred left him no great fondness for the University of +Dublin, and therefore he resolved to become a Master of Arts at +Oxford. In the testimonial which he produced the words of +disgrace were omitted; and he took his Master’s degree +(July 5, 1692) with such reception and regard as fully contented +him.</p> +<p>While he lived with Temple, he used to pay his mother at +Leicester a yearly visit. He travelled on foot, unless some +violence of weather drove him into a waggon; and at night he +would go to a penny lodging, where he purchased clean sheets for +sixpence. This practice Lord Orrery imputes to his innate love of +grossness and vulgarity: some may ascribe it to his desire of +surveying human life through all its varieties: and others, +perhaps with equal probability, to a passion which seems to have +been deeply fixed in his heart, the love of a shilling. In time +he began to think that his attendance at Moor Park deserved some +other recompense than the pleasure, however mingled with +improvement, of Temple’s conversation; and grew so +impatient, that (1694) he went away in discontent. Temple, +conscious of having given reason for complaint, is said to have +made him deputy Master of the Rolls in Ireland; which, according +to his kinsman’s account, was an office which he knew him +not able to discharge. Swift therefore resolved to enter into the +Church, in which he had at first no higher hopes than of the +chaplainship to the Factory at Lisbon; but being recommended to +Lord Capel, he obtained the prebend of Kilroot in Connor, of +about a hundred pounds a year. But the infirmities of Temple made +a companion like Swift so necessary, that he invited him back, +with a promise to procure him English preferment in exchange for +the prebend, which he desired him to resign. With this request +Swift complied, having perhaps equally repented their separation, +and they lived on together with mutual satisfaction; and, in the +four years that passed between his return and Temple’s +death, it is probable that he wrote the “Tale of a +Tub,” and the “Battle of the Books.”</p> +<p>Swift began early to think, or to hope, that he was a poet, +and wrote Pindaric Odes to Temple, to the king, and to the +Athenian Society, a knot of obscure men, who published a +periodical pamphlet of answers to questions, sent, or supposed to +be sent, by letters. I have been told that Dryden, having perused +these verses, said, “Cousin Swift, you will never be a +poet;” and that this denunciation was the motive of +Swift’s perpetual malevolence to Dryden. In 1699 Temple +died, and left a legacy with his manuscripts to Swift, for whom +he had obtained, from King William, a promise of the first +prebend that should be vacant at Westminster or Canterbury. That +this promise might not be forgotten, Swift dedicated to the king +the posthumous works with which he was intrusted; but neither the +dedication, nor tenderness for the man whom he once had treated +with confidence and fondness, revived in King William the +remembrance of his promise. Swift awhile attended the Court; but +soon found his solicitations hopeless. He was then invited by the +Earl of Berkeley to accompany him into Ireland, as his private +secretary; but, after having done the business till their arrival +at Dublin, he then found that one Bush had persuaded the earl +that a clergyman was not a proper secretary, and had obtained the +office for himself. In a man like Swift, such circumvention and +inconstancy must have excited violent indignation. But he had yet +more to suffer. Lord Berkeley had the disposal of the deanery of +Derry, and Swift expected to obtain it; but by the +secretary’s influence, supposed to have been secured by a +bribe, it was bestowed on somebody else; and Swift was dismissed +with the livings of Laracor and Rathbeggin in the diocese of +Meath, which together did not equal half the value of the +deanery. At Laracor he increased the parochial duty by reading +prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays, and performed all the offices +of his profession with great decency and exactness.</p> +<p>Soon after his settlement at Laracor, he invited to Ireland +the unfortunate Stella, a young woman whose name was Johnson, the +daughter of the steward of Sir William Temple, who, in +consideration of her father’s virtues, left her a thousand +pounds. With her came Mrs. Dingley, whose whole fortune was +twenty-seven pounds a year for her life. With these ladies he +passed his hours of relaxation, and to them he opened his bosom; +but they never resided in the same house, nor did he see either +without a witness. They lived at the Parsonage when Swift was +away, and, when he returned, removed to a lodging, or to the +house of a neighbouring clergyman.</p> +<p>Swift was not one of those minds which amaze the world with +early pregnancy: his first work, except his few poetical Essays, +was the “Dissensions in Athens and Rome,” published +(1701) in his thirty-fourth year. After its appearance, paying a +visit to some bishop, he heard mention made of the new pamphlet +that Burnet had written, replete with political knowledge. When +he seemed to doubt Burnet’s right to the work, he was told +by the bishop that he was “a young man,” and still +persisting to doubt, that he was “a very positive young +man.”</p> +<p>Three years afterwards (1704) was published “The Tale of +a Tub;” of this book charity may be persuaded to think that +it might be written by a man of a peculiar character without ill +intention; but it is certainly of dangerous example. That Swift +was its author, though it be universally believed, was never +owned by himself, nor very well proved by any evidence; but no +other claimant can be produced, and he did not deny it when +Archbishop Sharp and the Duchess of Somerset, by showing it to +the queen, debarred him from a bishopric. When this wild work +first raised the attention of the public, Sacheverell, meeting +Smalridge, tried to flatter him by seeming to think him the +author, but Smalridge answered with indignation, “Not all +that you and I have in the world, nor all that ever we shall +have, should hire me to write the ‘Tale of a +Tub.’”</p> +<p>The digression relating to Wotton and Bentley must be +confessed to discover want of knowledge or want of integrity; he +did not understand the two controversies, or he willingly +misrepresented them. But Wit can stand its ground against Truth +only a little while. The honours due to Learning have been justly +distributed by the decision of posterity.</p> +<p>“The Battle of the Books” is so like the +“<i>Combat des Livres</i>,” which the same question +concerning the Ancients and Moderns had produced in France, that +the improbability of such a coincidence of thoughts without +communication, is not, in my opinion, balanced by the anonymous +protestation prefixed, in which all knowledge of the French book +is peremptorily disowned.</p> +<p>For some time after, Swift was probably employed in solitary +study, gaining the qualifications requisite for future eminence. +How often he visited England, and with what diligence he attended +his parishes, I know not. It was not till about four years +afterwards that he became a professed author; and then one year +(1708) produced “The Sentiments of a Church of England +Man;” the ridicule of Astrology under the name of +“Bickerstaff;” the “Argument against abolishing +Christianity;” and the defence of the “Sacramental +Test.”</p> +<p>“The Sentiments of a Church of England Man” is +written with great coolness, moderation, ease, and perspicuity. +The “Argument against abolishing Christianity” is a +very happy and judicious irony. One passage in it deserves to be +selected:—</p> +<p>“If Christianity were once abolished, how could the +free-thinkers, the strong reasoners, and the men of profound +learning, be able to find another subject so calculated, in all +points, whereon to display their abilities? What wonderful +productions of wit should we be deprived of from those whose +genius, by continual practice, hath been wholly turned upon +raillery and invectives against religion, and would therefore +never be able to shine or distinguish themselves upon any other +subject! We are daily complaining of the great decline of +wit among us, and would take away the greatest, perhaps the only +topic we have left. Who would ever have suspected Asgill for a +wit, or Toland for a philosopher, if the inexhaustible stock of +Christianity had not been at hand to provide them with +materials? What other subject, through all art or nature, +could have produced Tindal for a profound author, or furnished +him with readers? It is the wise choice of the subject that +alone adorns and distinguishes the writer. For had a hundred such +pens as these been employed on the side of religion, they would +have immediately sunk into silence and oblivion.”</p> +<p>The reasonableness of a <i>Test</i> is not hard to be proved; +but perhaps it must be allowed that the proper test has not been +chosen. The attention paid to the papers published under the name +of “Bickerstaff,” induced Steele, when he projected +the <i>Tatler</i>, to assume an appellation which had already +gained possession of the reader’s notice.</p> +<p>In the year following he wrote a “Project for the +Advancement of Religion,” addressed to Lady Berkeley, by +whose kindness it is not unlikely that he was advanced to his +benefices. To this project, which is formed with great purity of +intention, and displayed with sprightliness and elegance, it can +only be objected, that, like many projects, it is, if not +generally impracticable, yet evidently hopeless, as it supposes +more zeal, concord, and perseverance than a view of mankind gives +reason for expecting. He wrote likewise this year a +“Vindication of Bickerstaff,” and an explanation of +an “Ancient Prophecy,” part written after the facts, +and the rest never completed, but well planned to excite +amazement.</p> +<p>Soon after began the busy and important part of Swift’s +life. He was employed (1710) by the Primate of Ireland to solicit +the queen for a remission of the First Fruits and Twentieth Parts +to the Irish Clergy. With this purpose he had recourse to Mr. +Harley, to whom he was mentioned as a man neglected and oppressed +by the last Ministry, because he had refused to co-operate with +some of their schemes. What he had refused has never been told; +what he had suffered was, I suppose, the exclusion from a +bishopric by the remonstrances of Sharp, whom he describes as +“the harmless tool of others’ hate,” and whom +he represents as afterwards “suing for pardon.”</p> +<p>Harley’s designs and situation were such as made him +glad of an auxiliary so well qualified for his service: he +therefore soon admitted him to familiarity, whether ever to +confidence some have made a doubt; but it would have been +difficult to excite his zeal without persuading him that he was +trusted, and not very easy to delude him by false persuasions. He +was certainly admitted to those meetings in which the first hints +and original plan of action are supposed to have been formed; and +was one of the sixteen ministers, or agents of the Ministry, who +met weekly at each other’s houses, and were united by the +name of “Brother.” Being not immediately +considered as an obdurate Tory, he conversed indiscriminately +with all the wits, and was yet the friend of Steele; who, in the +<i>Tatler</i>, which began in April, 1709, confesses the +advantage of his conversation, and mentions something contributed +by him to his paper. But he was now emerging into political +controversy; for the year 1710 produced the <i>Examiner</i>, of +which Swift wrote thirty-three papers. In argument he may be +allowed to have the advantage: for where a wide system of +conduct, and the whole of a public character, is laid open to +inquiry, the accuser, having the choice of facts, must be very +unskilful if he does not prevail: but with regard to wit, I am +afraid none of Swift’s papers will be found equal to those +by which Addison opposed him.</p> +<p>He wrote in the year 1711 a “Letter to the October +Club,” a number of Tory gentlemen sent from the country to +Parliament, who formed themselves into a club, to the number of +about a hundred, and met to animate the zeal and raise the +expectations of each other. They thought, with great reason, that +the Ministers were losing opportunities; that sufficient use was +not made of the ardour of the nation; they called loudly for more +changes, and stronger efforts; and demanded the punishment of +part and the dismission of the rest, of those whom they +considered as public robbers. Their eagerness was not gratified +by the queen, or by Harley. The queen was probably slow because +she was afraid; and Harley was slow because he was doubtful; he +was a Tory only by necessity, or for convenience; and, when he +had power in his hands, had no settled purpose for which he +should employ it; forced to gratify to a certain degree the +Tories who supported him, but unwilling to make his reconcilement +to the Whigs utterly desperate, he corresponded at once with the +two expectants of the Crown, and kept, as has been observed, the +succession undetermined. Not knowing what to do, he did nothing; +and, with the fate of a double dealer, at last he lost his power, +but kept his enemies.</p> +<p>Swift seems to have concurred in opinion with the +“October Club;” but it was not in his power to +quicken the tardiness of Harley, whom he stimulated as much as he +could, but with little effect. He that knows not whither to go, +is in no haste to move. Harley, who was perhaps not quick by +nature, became yet more slow by irresolution; and was content to +hear that dilatoriness lamented as natural, which he applauded in +himself as politic. Without the Tories, however, nothing could be +done; and, as they were not to be gratified, they must be +appeased; and the conduct of the Minister, if it could not be +vindicated, was to be plausibly excused.</p> +<p>Early in the next year he published a “Proposal for +Correcting, Improving, and Ascertaining the English +Tongue,” in a Letter to the Earl of Oxford; written without +much knowledge of the general nature of language, and without any +accurate inquiry into the history of other tongues. The certainty +and stability which, contrary to all experience, he thinks +attainable, he proposes to secure by instituting an academy; the +decrees of which every man would have been willing, and many +would have been proud, to disobey, and which, being renewed by +successive elections, would in a short time have differed from +itself.</p> +<p>Swift now attained the zenith of his political importance: he +published (1712) the “Conduct of the Allies,” ten +days before the Parliament assembled. The purpose was to persuade +the nation to a peace; and never had any writer more success. The +people, who had been amused with bonfires and triumphal +processions, and looked with idolatry on the General and his +friends, who, as they thought, had made England the arbitress of +nations, were confounded between shame and rage, when they found +that “mines had been exhausted, and millions +destroyed,” to secure the Dutch or aggrandise the Emperor, +without any advantage to ourselves; that we had been bribing our +neighbours to fight their own quarrel; and that amongst our +enemies we might number our allies. That is now no longer +doubted, of which the nation was then first informed, that the +war was unnecessarily protracted to fill the pockets of +Marlborough; and that it would have been continued without end, +if he could have continued his annual plunder. But Swift, I +suppose, did not yet know what he has since written, that a +commission was drawn which would have appointed him General for +life, had it not become ineffectual by the resolution of Lord +Cowper, who refused the seal.</p> +<p>“Whatever is received,” say the schools, “is +received in proportion to the recipient.” The power +of a political treatise depends much upon the disposition of the +people; the nation was then combustible, and a spark set it on +fire. It is boasted, that between November and January eleven +thousand were sold: a great number at that time, when we were not +yet a nation of readers. To its propagation certainly no agency +of power or influence was wanting. It furnished arguments for +conversation, speeches for debate, and materials for +parliamentary resolutions. Yet, surely, whoever surveys this +wonder-working pamphlet with cool perusal, will confess that its +efficacy was supplied by the passions of its readers; that it +operates by the mere weight of facts, with very little assistance +from the hand that produced them.</p> +<p>This year (1712) he published his “Reflections on the +Barrier Treaty,” which carries on the design of his +“Conduct of the Allies,” and shows how little regard +in that negotiation had been shown to the interest of England, +and how much of the conquered country had been demanded by the +Dutch. This was followed by “Remarks on the Bishop of +Sarum’s Introduction to his third Volume of the History of +the Reformation;” a pamphlet which Burnet published as an +alarm, to warn the nation of the approach of Popery. Swift, who +seems to have disliked the bishop with something more than +political aversion, treats him like one whom he is glad of an +opportunity to insult.</p> +<p>Swift, being now the declared favourite and supposed confidant +of the Tory Ministry, was treated by all that depended on the +Court with the respect which dependents know how to pay. He soon +began to feel part of the misery of greatness; he that could say +that he knew him, considered himself as having fortune in his +power. Commissions, solicitations, remonstrances crowded about +him; he was expected to do every man’s business; to procure +employment for one, and to retain it for another. In assisting +those who addressed him, he represents himself as sufficiently +diligent; and desires to have others believe what he probably +believed himself, that by his interposition many Whigs of merit, +and among them Addison and Congreve, were continued in their +places. But every man of known influence has so many petitions +which he cannot grant, that he must necessarily offend more than +he gratifies, because the preference given to one affords all the +rest reason for complaint. “When I give away a +place,” said Lewis XIV., “I make a hundred +discontented, and one ungrateful.”</p> +<p>Much has been said of the equality and independence which he +preserved in his conversation with the Ministers; of the +frankness of his remonstrances, and the familiarity of his +friendship. In accounts of this kind a few single incidents are +set against the general tenour of behaviour. No man, however, can +pay a more servile tribute to the great, than by suffering his +liberty in their presence to aggrandise him in his own esteem. +Between different ranks of the community there is necessarily +some distance; he who is called by his superior to pass the +interval, may properly accept the invitation; but petulance and +obtrusion are rarely produced by magnanimity; nor have often any +nobler cause than the pride of importance, and the malice of +inferiority. He who knows himself necessary may set, while that +necessity lasts, a high value upon himself; as, in a lower +condition, a servant eminently skilful may be saucy; but he is +saucy only because he is servile. Swift appears to have preserved +the kindness of the great when they wanted him no longer; and +therefore it must be allowed, that the childish freedom, to which +he seems enough inclined, was overpowered by his better +qualities. His disinterestedness has likewise been mentioned; a +strain of heroism which would have been in his condition romantic +and superfluous. Ecclesiastical benefices, when they become +vacant, must be given away; and the friends of power may, if +there be no inherent disqualification, reasonably expect them. +Swift accepted (1713) the deanery of St. Patrick, the best +preferment that his friends could venture to give him. That +Ministry was in a great degree supported by the clergy, who were +not yet reconciled to the author of the “Tale of a +Tub,” and would not without much discontent and indignation +have borne to see him installed in an English cathedral. He +refused, indeed, fifty pounds from Lord Oxford; but he accepted +afterwards a draught of a thousand upon the Exchequer, which was +intercepted by the queen’s death, and which he resigned, as +he says himself, “<i>multa gemens</i>, with many a +groan.” In the midst of his power and his politics, +he kept a journal of his visits, his walks, his interviews with +Ministers, and quarrels with his servant, and transmitted it to +Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Dingley, to whom he knew that whatever +befell him was interesting, and no accounts could be too minute. +Whether these diurnal trifles were properly exposed to eyes which +had never received any pleasure from the presence of the Dean may +be reasonably doubted: they have, however, some odd attraction; +the reader, finding frequent mention of names which he has been +used to consider as important, goes on in hope of information; +and as there is nothing to fatigue attention, if he is +disappointed he can hardly complain. It is easy to perceive, from +every page, that though ambition pressed Swift into a life of +bustle, the wish for a life of ease was always returning. He went +to take possession of his deanery as soon as he had obtained it; +but he was not suffered to stay in Ireland more than a fortnight +before he was recalled to England, that he might reconcile Lord +Oxford and Lord Bolingbroke, who began to look on one another +with malevolence, which every day increased, and which +Bolingbroke appeared to retain in his last years.</p> +<p>Swift contrived an interview, from which they both departed +discontented; he procured a second, which only convinced him that +the feud was irreconcilable; he told them his opinion, that all +was lost. This denunciation was contradicted by Oxford; but +Bolingbroke whispered that he was right. Before this violent +dissension had shattered the Ministry, Swift had published, in +the beginning of the year (1714), “The Public Spirit of the +Whigs,” in answer to “The Crisis,” a pamphlet +for which Steele was expelled from the House of Commons. Swift +was now so far alienated from Steele, as to think him no longer +entitled to decency, and therefore treats him sometimes with +contempt, and sometimes with abhorrence. In this pamphlet the +Scotch were mentioned in terms so provoking to that irritable +nation, that resolving “not to be offended with +impunity,” the Scotch lords in a body demanded an audience +of the queen, and solicited reparation. A proclamation was +issued, in which three hundred pounds were offered for the +discovery of the author. From this storm he was, as he relates, +“secured by a sleight;” of what kind, or by whose +prudence, is not known; and such was the increase of his +reputation, that the Scottish nation “applied again that he +would be their friend.” He was become so formidable +to the Whigs, that his familiarity with the Ministers was +clamoured at in Parliament, particularly by two men, afterwards +of great note, Aislabie and Walpole. But, by the disunion of his +great friends, his importance and designs were now at an end; and +seeing his services at last useless, he retired about June (1714) +into Berkshire, where, in the house of a friend, he wrote what +was then suppressed, but has since appeared under the title of +“Free Thoughts on the present State of +Affairs.” While he was waiting in this retirement for +events which time or chance might bring to pass, the death of the +Queen broke down at once the whole system of Tory politics; and +nothing remained but to withdraw from the implacability of +triumphant Whiggism, and shelter himself in unenvied +obscurity.</p> +<p>The accounts of his reception in Ireland, given by Lord Orrery +and Dr. Delany, are so different, that the credit of the writers, +both undoubtedly veracious, cannot be saved, but by supposing, +what I think is true, that they speak of different times. When +Delany says, that he was received with respect, he means for the +first fortnight, when he came to take legal possession; and when +Lord Orrery tells that he was pelted by the populace, he is to be +understood of the time when, after the Queen’s death, he +became a settled resident.</p> +<p>The Archbishop of Dublin gave him at first some disturbance in +the exercise of his jurisdiction; but it was soon discovered, +that between prudence and integrity, he was seldom in the wrong; +and that, when he was right, his spirit did not easily yield to +opposition.</p> +<p>Having so lately quitted the tumults of a party, and the +intrigues of a court, they still kept his thoughts in agitation, +as the sea fluctuates a while when the storm has ceased. He +therefore filled his hours with some historical attempts, +relating to the “Change of the Ministers,” and +“The Conduct of the Ministry.” He likewise is +said to have written a “History of the Four last Years of +Queen Anne,” which he began in her lifetime, and afterwards +laboured with great attention, but never published. It was after +his death in the hands of Lord Orrery and Dr. King. A book under +that title was published with Swift’s name by Dr. Lucas; of +which I can only say, that it seemed by no means to correspond +with the notions that I had formed of it, from a conversation +which I once heard between the Earl of Orrery and old Mr. +Lewis.</p> +<p>Swift now, much against his will, commenced Irishman for life, +and was to contrive how he might be best accommodated in a +country where he considered himself as in a state of exile. It +seems that his first recourse was to piety. The thoughts of death +rushed upon him at this time with such incessant importunity, +that they took possession of his mind, when he first waked, for +many years together. He opened his house by a public table two +days a week, and found his entertainments gradually frequented by +more and more visitants of learning among the men, and of +elegance among the women. Mrs. Johnson had left the country, and +lived in lodgings not far from the deanery. On his public days +she regulated the table, but appeared at it as a mere guest, like +other ladies. On other days he often dined, at a stated price, +with Mr. Worral, a clergyman of his cathedral, whose house was +recommended by the peculiar neatness and pleasantry of his wife. +To this frugal mode of living, he was first disposed by care to +pay some debts which he had contracted, and he continued it for +the pleasure of accumulating money. His avarice, however, was not +suffered to obstruct the claims of his dignity; he was served in +plate, and used to say that he was the poorest gentleman in +Ireland that ate upon plate, and the richest that lived without a +coach. How he spent the rest of his time, and how he employed his +hours of study, has been inquired with hopeless curiosity. For +who can give an account of another’s studies? Swift +was not likely to admit any to his privacies, or to impart a +minute account of his business or his leisure.</p> +<p>Soon after (1716), in his forty-ninth year, he was privately +married to Mrs. Johnson, by Dr. Ashe, Bishop of Clogher, as Dr. +Madden told me, in the garden. The marriage made no change in +their mode of life; they lived in different houses, as before; +nor did she ever lodge in the deanery but when Swift was seized +with a fit of giddiness. “It would be difficult,” +says Lord Orrery, “to prove that they were ever afterwards +together without a third person.”</p> +<p>The Dean of St. Patrick’s lived in a private manner, +known and regarded only by his friends; till, about the year +1720, he, by a pamphlet, recommended to the Irish the use, and +consequently the improvement, of their manufactures. For a man to +use the productions of his own labour is surely a natural right, +and to like best what he makes himself is a natural passion. But +to excite this passion, and enforce this right, appeared so +criminal to those who had an interest in the English trade, that +the printer was imprisoned; and, as Hawkesworth justly observes, +the attention of the public being, by this outrageous resentment, +turned upon the proposal, the author was by consequence made +popular.</p> +<p>In 1723 died Mrs. Van Homrigh, a woman made unhappy by her +admiration of wit, and ignominiously distinguished by the name of +Vanessa, whose conduct has been already sufficiently discussed, +and whose history is too well known to be minutely repeated. She +was a young woman fond of literature, whom Decanus, the dean, +called <i>Cadenus</i> by transposition of the letters, took +pleasure in directing and instructing: till, from being proud of +his praise, she grew fond of his person. Swift was then about +forty-seven, at an age when vanity is strongly excited by the +amorous attention of a young woman. If it be said that Swift +should have checked a passion which he never meant to gratify, +recourse must be had to that extenuation which he so much +despised, “men are but men;” perhaps, however, he did +not at first know his own mind, and, as he represents himself, +was undetermined. For his admission of her courtship, and his +indulgence of her hopes after his marriage to Stella, no other +honest plea can be found than that he delayed a disagreeable +discovery from time to time, dreading the immediate bursts of +distress, and watching for a favourable moment. She thought +herself neglected, and died of disappointment, having ordered, by +her will, the poem to be published, in which Cadenus had +proclaimed her excellence and confessed his love. The effect of +the publication upon the Dean and Stella is thus related by +Delany:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I have good reason to believe that they +both were greatly shocked and distressed (though it may be +differently) upon this occasion. The Dean made a tour to the +south of Ireland for about two months at this time, to dissipate +his thoughts and give place to obloquy. And Stella retired (upon +the earnest invitation of the owner) to the house of a cheerful, +generous, good-natured friend of the Dean’s, whom she +always much loved and honoured. There my informer often saw her, +and, I have reason to believe, used his utmost endeavours to +relieve, support, and amuse her, in this sad situation. One +little incident he told me of on that occasion I think I shall +never forget. As his friend was an hospitable, open-hearted man, +well beloved and largely acquainted, it happened one day that +some gentlemen dropped in to dinner, who were strangers to +Stella’s situation; and as the poem of <i>Cadenus and +Vanessa</i> was then the general topic of conversation, one of +them said, ‘Surely that Vanessa must be an extraordinary +woman that could inspire the Dean to write so finely upon +her.’ Mrs. Johnson smiled, and answered, ‘that +she thought that point not quite so clear; for it was well known +that the Dean could write finely upon a +broomstick.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The great acquisition of esteem and influence was made by the +“Drapier’s Letters,” in 1724. One Wood, of +Wolverhampton, in Staffordshire, a man enterprising and +rapacious, had, as is said, by a present to the Duchess of +Munster, obtained a patent, empowering him to coin one hundred +and eighty thousand pounds of halfpence and farthings for the +kingdom of Ireland, in which there was a very inconvenient and +embarrassing scarcity of copper coin, so that it was possible to +run in debt upon the credit of a piece of money; for the cook or +keeper of an alehouse could not refuse to supply a man that had +silver in his hand, and the buyer would not leave his money +without change. The project was therefore plausible. The +scarcity, which was already great, Wood took care to make +greater, by agents who gathered up the old halfpence; and was +about to turn his brass into gold, by pouring the treasures of +his new mint upon Ireland, when Swift, finding that the metal was +debased to an enormous degree, wrote letters, under the name of +<i>M. B. Drapier</i>, to show the folly of receiving, and the +mischief that must ensue by giving gold and silver for coin worth +perhaps not a third part of its nominal value. The nation was +alarmed; the new coin was universally refused, but the governors +of Ireland considered resistance to the king’s patent as +highly criminal; and one Whitshed, then Chief Justice, who had +tried the printer of the former pamphlet, and sent out the jury +nine times, till by clamour and menaces they were frightened into +a special verdict, now presented the Drapier, but could not +prevail on the grand jury to find the bill.</p> +<p>Lord Carteret and the Privy Council published a proclamation, +offering three hundred pounds for discovering the author of the +Fourth Letter. Swift had concealed himself from his printers and +trusted only his butler, who transcribed the paper. The man, +immediately after the appearance of the proclamation, strolled +from the house, and stayed out all night, and part of the next +day. There was reason enough to fear that he had betrayed his +master for the reward; but he came home, and the Dean ordered him +to put off his livery, and leave the house; “for,” +says he, “I know that my life is in your power, and I will +not bear, out of fear, either your insolence or +negligence.” The man excused his fault with great +submission, and begged that he might be confined in the house +while it was in his power to endanger the master; but the Dean +resolutely turned him out, without taking further notice of him, +till the term of the information had expired, and then received +him again. Soon afterwards he ordered him and the rest of his +servants into his presence, without telling his intentions, and +bade them take notice that their fellow-servant was no longer +Robert the butler, but that his integrity had made him Mr. +Blakeney, verger of St. Patrick’s, an officer whose income +was between thirty and forty pounds a year; yet he still +continued for some years to serve his old master as his +butler.</p> +<p>Swift was known from this time by the appellation of <i>The +Dean</i>. He was honoured by the populace as the champion, +patron, and instructor of Ireland; and gained such power as, +considered both in its extent and duration, scarcely any man has +ever enjoyed without greater wealth or higher station. He was +from this important year the oracle of the traders, and the idol +of the rabble, and by consequence was feared and courted by all +to whom the kindness of the traders or the populace was +necessary. The <i>Drapier</i> was a sign; the <i>Drapier</i> was +a health; and which way soever the eye or the ear was turned, +some tokens were found of the nation’s gratitude to the +<i>Drapier</i>.</p> +<p>The benefit was indeed great; he had rescued Ireland from a +very oppressive and predatory invasion, and the popularity which +he had gained he was diligent to keep, by appearing forward and +zealous on every occasion where the public interest was supposed +to be involved. Nor did he much scruple to boast his influence; +for when, upon some attempts to regulate the coin, Archbishop +Boulter, then one of the justices, accused him of exasperating +the people, he exculpated himself by saying, “If I had +lifted up my finger, they would have torn you to +pieces.” But the pleasure of popularity was soon +interrupted by domestic misery. Mrs. Johnson, whose conversation +was to him the great softener of the ills of life, began in the +year of the <i>Drapier’s</i> triumph to decline, and two +years afterwards was so wasted with sickness that her recovery +was considered as hopeless. Swift was then in England, and had +been invited by Lord Bolingbroke to pass the winter with him in +France; but this call of calamity hastened him to Ireland, where +perhaps his presence contributed to restore her to imperfect and +tottering health. He was now so much at ease, that (1727) he +returned to England, where he collected three volumes of +Miscellanies in conjunction with Pope, who prefixed a querulous +and apologetical Preface.</p> +<p>This important year sent likewise into the world +“Gulliver’s Travels,” a production so new and +strange, that it filled the reader with a mingled emotion of +merriment and amazement. It was received with such avidity, that +the price of the first edition was raised before the second could +be made; it was read by the high and the low, the learned and +illiterate. Criticism was for a while lost in wonder; no rules of +judgment were applied to a book written in open defiance of truth +and regularity. But when distinctions came to be made, the part +which gave the least pleasure was that which describes the Flying +Island, and that which gave most disgust must be the history of +Houyhnhnms.</p> +<p>While Swift was enjoying the reputation of his new work, the +news of the king’s death arrived, and he kissed the hands +of the new king and queen three days after their accession. By +the queen, when she was princess, he had been treated with some +distinction, and was well received by her in her exaltation; but +whether she gave hopes which she never took care to satisfy, or +he formed expectations which she never meant to raise, the event +was that he always afterwards thought on her with malevolence, +and particularly charged her with breaking her promise of some +medals which she engaged to send him. I know not whether she had +not, in her turn, some reason for complaint. A letter was sent +her, not so much entreating, as requiring her patronage of Mrs. +Barber, an ingenious Irishwoman, who was then begging +subscriptions for her Poems. To this letter was subscribed the +name of Swift, and it has all the appearance of his diction and +sentiments; but it was not written in his hand, and had some +little improprieties. When he was charged with this letter, he +laid hold of the inaccuracies, and urged the improbability of the +accusation, but never denied it: he shuffles between cowardice +and veracity, and talks big when he says nothing. He seems +desirous enough of recommencing courtier, and endeavoured to gain +the kindness of Mrs. Howard, remembering what Mrs. Masham had +performed in former times; but his flatteries were, like those of +other wits, unsuccessful; the lady either wanted power, or had no +ambition of poetical immortality. He was seized not long +afterwards by a fit of giddiness, and again heard of the sickness +and danger of Mrs. Johnson. He then left the house of Pope, as it +seems, with very little ceremony, finding “that two sick +friends cannot live together;” and did not write to him +till he found himself at Chester. He turned to a home of sorrow: +poor Stella was sinking into the grave, and, after a languishing +decay of about two months, died in her forty-fourth year, on +January 28, 1728. How much he wished her life his papers show; +nor can it be doubted that he dreaded the death of her whom he +loved most, aggravated by the consciousness that himself had +hastened it.</p> +<p>Beauty and the power of pleasing, the greatest external +advantages that woman can desire or possess, were fatal to the +unfortunate Stella. The man whom she had the misfortune to love +was, as Delany observes, fond of singularity, and desirous to +make a mode of happiness for himself, different from the general +course of things and order of Providence. From the time of her +arrival in Ireland he seems resolved to keep her in his power, +and therefore hindered a match sufficiently advantageous by +accumulating unreasonable demands, and prescribing conditions +that could not be performed. While she was at her own disposal he +did not consider his possession as secure; resentment, ambition, +or caprice might separate them: he was therefore resolved to make +“assurance doubly sure,” and to appropriate her by a +private marriage, to which he had annexed the expectation of all +the pleasures of perfect friendship, without the uneasiness of +conjugal restraint. But with this state poor Stella was not +satisfied; she never was treated as a wife, and to the world she +had the appearance of a mistress. She lived sullenly on, in hope +that in time he would own and receive her; but the time did not +come till the change of his manners and depravation of his mind +made her tell him, when he offered to acknowledge her, that +“it was too late.” She then gave up herself to +sorrowful resentment, and died under the tyranny of him by whom +she was in the highest degree loved and honoured. What were her +claims to this eccentric tenderness, by which the laws of nature +were violated to restrain her, curiosity will inquire; but how +shall it be gratified? Swift was a lover; his testimony may +be suspected. Delany and the Irish saw with Swift’s eyes, +and therefore add little confirmation. That she was virtuous, +beautiful, and elegant, in a very high degree, such admiration +from such a lover makes it very probable: but she had not much +literature, for she could not spell her own language; and of her +wit, so loudly vaunted, the smart sayings which Swift himself has +collected afford no splendid specimen.</p> +<p>The reader of Swift’s “Letter to a Lady on her +Marriage,” may be allowed to doubt whether his opinion of +female excellence ought implicitly to be admitted; for, if his +general thoughts on women were such as he exhibits, a very little +sense in a lady would enrapture, and a very little virtue would +astonish him. Stella’s supremacy, therefore, was perhaps +only local; she was great because her associates were little.</p> +<p>In some Remarks lately published on the Life of Swift, his +marriage is mentioned as fabulous, or doubtful; but, alas! poor +Stella, as Dr. Madden told me, related her melancholy story to +Dr. Sheridan, when he attended her as a clergyman to prepare her +for death; and Delany mentions it not with doubt, but only with +regret. Swift never mentioned her without a sigh. The rest of his +life was spent in Ireland, in a country to which not even power +almost despotic, nor flattery almost idolatrous, could reconcile +him. He sometimes wished to visit England, but always found some +reason of delay. He tells Pope, in the decline of life, that he +hopes once more to see him; “but if not,” says he, +“we must part as all human beings have parted.”</p> +<p>After the death of Stella, his benevolence was contracted, and +his severity exasperated; he drove his acquaintance from his +table, and wondered why he was deserted. But he continued his +attention to the public, and wrote from time to time such +directions, admonitions, or censures, as the exigence of affairs, +in his opinion, made proper; and nothing fell from his pen in +vain. In a short poem on the Presbyterians, whom he always +regarded with detestation, he bestowed one stricture upon +Bettesworth, a lawyer eminent for his insolence to the clergy, +which, from very considerable reputation, brought him into +immediate and universal contempt. Bettesworth, enraged at his +disgrace and loss, went to Swift, and demanded whether he was the +author of that poem? “Mr. Bettesworth,” +answered he, “I was in my youth acquainted with great +lawyers, who, knowing my disposition to satire, advised me, that +if any scoundrel or blockhead whom I had lampooned should ask, +‘Are you the author of this paper?’ I should tell him +that I was not the author; and therefore, I tell you, Mr. +Bettesworth, that I am not the author of these lines.”</p> +<p>Bettesworth was so little satisfied with this account, that he +publicly professed his resolution of a violent and corporal +revenge; but the inhabitants of St. Patrick’s district +embodied themselves in the Dean’s defence. Bettesworth +declared in Parliament that Swift had deprived him of twelve +hundred pounds a year.</p> +<p>Swift was popular awhile by another mode of beneficence. He +set aside some hundreds to be lent in small sums to the poor, +from five shillings, I think, to five pounds. He took no +interest, and only required that, at repayment, a small fee +should be given to the accountant, but he required that the day +of promised payment should be exactly kept. A severe and +punctilious temper is ill qualified for transactions with the +poor: the day was often broken, and the loan was not repaid. This +might have been easily foreseen; but for this Swift had made no +provision of patience or pity. He ordered his debtors to be sued. +A severe creditor has no popular character; what then was likely +to be said of him who employs the catchpoll under the appearance +of charity? The clamour against him was loud, and the +resentment of the populace outrageous; he was therefore forced to +drop his scheme, and own the folly of expecting punctuality from +the poor.</p> +<p>His asperity continually increasing, condemned him to +solitude; and his resentment of solitude sharpened his asperity. +He was not, however, totally deserted; some men of learning, and +some women of elegance, often visited him; and he wrote from time +to time either verse or prose: of his verses he willingly gave +copies, and is supposed to have felt no discontent when he saw +them printed. His favourite maxim was “Vive la +bagatelle:” he thought trifles a necessary part of life, +and perhaps found them necessary to himself. It seems impossible +to him to be idle, and his disorders made it difficult or +dangerous to be long seriously studious, or laboriously diligent. +The love of ease is always gaining upon age, and he had one +temptation to petty amusements peculiar to himself; whatever he +did, he was sure to hear applauded; and such was his predominance +over all that approached, that all their applauses were probably +sincere. He that is much flattered soon learns to flatter +himself; we are commonly taught our duty by fear or shame, and +how can they act upon the man who hears nothing but his own +praises? As his years increased, his fits of giddiness and +deafness grew more frequent, and his deafness made conversation +difficult; they grew likewise more severe, till in 1736, as he +was writing a poem called “The Legion Club,” he was +seized with a fit so painful and so long continued, that he never +after thought it proper to attempt any work of thought or labour. +He was always careful of his money, and was therefore no liberal +entertainer, but was less frugal of his wine than of his meat. +When his friends of either sex came to him in expectation of a +dinner, his custom was to give every one a shilling, that they +might please themselves with their provision. At last his avarice +grew too powerful for his kindness; he would refuse a bottle of +wine, and in Ireland no man visits where he cannot drink. Having +thus excluded conversation, and desisted from study, he had +neither business nor amusement; for, having by some ridiculous +resolution, or mad vow, determined never to wear spectacles, he +could make like little use of books in his latter years; his +ideas, therefore, being neither renovated by discourse, nor +increased by reading, wore gradually away, and left his mind +vacant to the vexations of the hour, till at last his anger was +heightened into madness. He, however, permitted one book to be +published, which had been the production of former +years—“Polite Conversation,” which appeared in +1738. The “Directions for Servants,” was printed soon +after his death. These two performances show a mind incessantly +attentive, and, when it was not employed upon great things, busy +with minute occurrences. It is apparent that he must have had the +habit of noting whatever he observed; for such a number of +particulars could never have been assembled by the power of +recollection. He grew more violent, and his mental powers +declined, till (1741) it was found necessary that legal guardians +should be appointed of his person and fortune. He now lost +distinction. His madness was compounded of rage and fatuity. The +last face that he knew was that of Mrs. Whiteway; and her he +ceased to know in a little time. His meat was brought him cut +into mouthfuls: but he would never touch it while the servant +stayed, and at last, after it had stood perhaps an hour, would +eat it walking; for he continued his old habit, and was on his +feet ten hours a day. Next year (1742) he had an inflammation in +his left eye, which swelled it to the size of an egg, with boils +in other parts; he was kept long waking with the pain, and was +not easily restrained by five attendants from tearing out his +eye.</p> +<p>The tumour at last subsided; and a short interval of reason +ensuing; in which he knew his physician and his family, gave +hopes of his recovery; but in a few days he sank into a lethargic +stupidity, motionless, heedless, and speechless. But it is said +that after a year of total silence, when his housekeeper, on the +30th of November, told him that the usual bonfires and +illuminations were preparing to celebrate his birthday, he +answered, “It is all folly; they had better let it +alone.”</p> +<p>It is remembered that he afterwards spoke now and then, or +gave some intimation of a meaning; but at last sank into a +perfect silence, which continued till about the end of October, +1744, when, in his seventy-eighth year, he expired without a +struggle.</p> +<p>When Swift is considered as an author, it is just to estimate +his powers by their effects. In the reign of Queen Anne he turned +the stream of popularity against the Whigs, and must be confessed +to have dictated for a time the political opinions of the English +nation. In the succeeding reign he delivered Ireland from plunder +and oppression: and showed that wit, confederated with truth, had +such force as authority was unable to resist. He said truly of +himself, that Ireland “was his debtor.” It was +from the time when he first began to patronise the Irish, that +they may date their riches and prosperity. He taught them first +to know their own interest, their weight, and their strength, and +gave them spirit to assert that equality with their +fellow-subjects to which they have ever since been making +vigorous advances, and to claim those rights which they have at +last established. Nor can they be charged with ingratitude to +their benefactor; for they reverenced him as a guardian, and +obeyed him as a dictator.</p> +<p>In his works he has given very different specimens both of +sentiments and expression. His “Tale of a Tub” has +little resemblance to his other pieces. It exhibits a vehemence +and rapidity of mind, a copiousness of images, and vivacity of +diction, such as he afterwards never possessed, or never exerted. +It is of a mode so distinct and peculiar, that it must be +considered by itself; what is true of that, is not true of +anything else which he has written. In his other works is found +an equable tenour of easy language, which rather trickles than +flows. His delight was in simplicity. That he has in his works no +metaphor, as has been said, is not true; but his few metaphors +seem to be received rather by necessity than choice. He studied +purity; and though perhaps all his strictures are not exact, yet +it is not often that solecisms can be found; and whoever depends +on his authority may generally conclude himself safe. His +sentences are never too much dilated or contracted; and it will +not be easy to find any embarrassment in the complication of his +clauses, any inconsequence in his connections, or abruptness in +his transitions. His style was well suited to his thoughts, which +are never subtilised by nice disquisitions, decorated by +sparkling conceits, elevated by ambitious sentences, or +variegated by far-sought learning. He pays no court to the +passions; he excites neither surprise nor admiration: he always +understands himself, and his readers always understand him: the +peruser of Swift wants little previous knowledge; it will be +sufficient that he is acquainted with common words and common +things; he is neither required to mount elevations, nor to +explore profundities; his passage is always on a level, along +solid ground, without asperities, without obstruction. This easy +and safe conveyance of meaning it was Swift’s desire to +attain, and for having attained he deserves praise. For purposes +merely didactic, when something is to be told that was not known +before, it is the best mode; but against that inattention by +which known truths are suffered to lie neglected, it makes no +provision; it instructs, but does not persuade.</p> +<p>By his political education he was associated with the Whigs; +but he deserted them when they deserted their principles, yet +without running into the contrary extreme; he continued +throughout his life to retain the disposition which he assigns to +the “Church-of-England Man,” of thinking commonly +with the Whigs of the State, and with the Tories of the Church. +He was a Churchman, rationally zealous; he desired the +prosperity, and maintained the honour of the clergy; of the +Dissenters he did not wish to infringe the Toleration, but he +opposed their encroachments. To his duty as Dean he was very +attentive. He managed the revenues of his church with exact +economy; and it is said by Delany, that more money was, under his +direction, laid out in repairs, than had ever been in the same +time since its first erection. Of his choir he was eminently +careful; and though he neither loved nor understood music, took +care that all the singers were well qualified, admitting none +without the testimony of skilful judges.</p> +<p>In his church he restored the practice of weekly communion, +and distributed the sacramental elements in the most solemn and +devout manner with his own hand. He came to church every morning, +preached commonly in his turn, and attended the evening anthem, +that it might not be negligently performed. He read the service, +“rather with a strong, nervous voice, than in a graceful +manner; his voice was sharp and high-toned, rather than +harmonious.” He entered upon the clerical state with +hope to excel in preaching; but complained that, from the time of +his political controversies, “he could only preach +pamphlets.” This censure of himself, if judgment be +made from those sermons which have been printed, was unreasonably +severe.</p> +<p>The suspicions of his irreligion proceeded in a great measure +from his dread of hypocrisy; instead of wishing to seem better, +he delighted in seeming worse than he was. He went in London to +early prayers, lest he should be seen at church; he read prayers +to his servants every morning with such dexterous secrecy, that +Dr. Delany was six months in his house before he knew it. He was +not only careful to hide the good which he did, but willingly +incurred the suspicion of evil which he did not. He forgot what +himself had formerly asserted, that hypocrisy is less mischievous +than open impiety. Dr. Delany, with all his zeal for his honour, +has justly condemned this part of his character.</p> +<p>The person of Swift had not many recommendations. He had a +kind of muddy complexion, which, though he washed himself with +Oriental scrupulosity, did not look clear. He had a countenance +sour and severe, which he seldom softened by any appearance of +gaiety. He stubbornly resisted any tendency to laughter. To his +domestics he was naturally rough: and a man of a rigorous temper, +with that vigilance of minute attention which his works discover, +must have been a master that few could bear. That he was disposed +to do his servants good, on important occasions, is no great +mitigation; benefaction can be but rare, and tyrannic peevishness +is perpetual. He did not spare the servants of others. Once, when +he dined alone with the Earl of Orrery, he said of one that +waited in the room, “That man has, since we sat to the +table, committed fifteen faults.” What the faults +were, Lord Orrery, from whom I heard the story, had not been +attentive enough to discover. My number may perhaps not be +exact.</p> +<p>In his economy he practised a peculiar and offensive +parsimony, without disguise or apology. The practice of saving +being once necessary, became habitual, and grew first ridiculous, +and at last detestable. But his avarice, though it might exclude +pleasure, was never suffered to encroach upon his virtue. He was +frugal by inclination, but liberal by principle: and if the +purpose to which he destined his little accumulations be +remembered, with his distribution of occasional charity, it will +perhaps appear that he only liked one mode of expense better than +another, and saved merely that he might have something to give. +He did not grow rich by injuring his successors, but left both +Laracor and the Deanery more valuable than he found them. With +all this talk of his covetousness and generosity, it should be +remembered that he was never rich. The revenue of his Deanery was +not much more than seven hundred a year. His beneficence was not +graced with tenderness or civility; he relieved without pity, and +assisted without kindness; so that those who were fed by him +could hardly love him. He made a rule to himself to give but one +piece at a time, and therefore always stored his pocket with +coins of different value. Whatever he did he seemed willing to do +in a manner peculiar to himself, without sufficiently considering +that singularity, as it implies a contempt of the general +practice, is a kind of defiance which justly provokes the +hostility of ridicule; he, therefore, who indulges peculiar +habits, is worse than others, if he be not better.</p> +<p>Of his humour, a story told by Pope may afford a specimen.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Dr. Swift has an odd, blunt way, that is +mistaken by strangers for ill nature.—’Tis so odd, +that there’s no describing it but by facts. I’ll tell +you one that first comes into my head. One evening Gay and I went +to see him: you know how intimately we were all acquainted. On +our coming in, ‘Heyday, gentlemen’ (says the doctor), +‘what’s the meaning of this visit? How came you +to leave the great Lords that you are so fond of, to come hither +to see a poor Dean?’—‘Because we would rather +see you than any of them.’—‘Ay, anyone that did +not know so well as I do might believe you. But since you are +come, I must get some supper for you, I +suppose.’—‘No, Doctor, we have supped +already.’—‘Supped already? that’s +impossible! why, ’tis not eight o’clock yet: +that’s very strange; but if you had not supped, I must have +got something for you. Let me see, what should I have had? +A couple of lobsters; ay, that would have done very well; two +shillings—tarts, a shilling; but you will drink a glass of +wine with me, though you supped so much before your usual time +only to spare my pocket?’—‘No, we had rather +talk with you than drink with you.’—‘But if you +had supped with me, as in all reason you ought to have done, you +must then have drunk with me. A bottle of wine, two +shillings—two and two is four, and one is five; just +two-and-sixpence a-piece. There, Pope, there’s half a crown +for you, and there’s another for you, sir; for I +won’t save anything by you. I am +determined.’—This was all said and done with his +usual seriousness on such occasions; and, in spite of everything +we could say to the contrary, he actually obliged us to take the +money.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the intercourse of familiar life, he indulged his +disposition to petulance and sarcasm, and thought himself injured +if the licentiousness of his raillery, the freedom of his +censures, or the petulance of his frolics was resented or +repressed. He predominated over his companions with very high +ascendancy, and probably would bear none over whom he could not +predominate. To give him advice was, in the style of his friend +Delany, “to venture to speak to him.” This +customary superiority soon grew too delicate for truth; and +Swift, with all his penetration, allowed himself to be delighted +with low flattery. On all common occasions, he habitually affects +a style of arrogance, and dictates rather than persuades. This +authoritative and magisterial language he expected to be received +as his peculiar mode of jocularity: but he apparently flattered +his own arrogance by an assumed imperiousness, in which he was +ironical only to the resentful, and to the submissive +sufficiently serious. He told stories with great felicity, and +delighted in doing what he knew himself to do well; he was +therefore captivated by the respectful silence of a steady +listener, and told the same tales too often. He did not, however, +claim the right of talking alone; for it was his rule, when he +had spoken a minute, to give room by a pause for any other +speaker. Of time, on all occasions, he was an exact computer, and +knew the minutes required to every common operation.</p> +<p>It may be justly supposed that there was in his conversation, +what appears so frequently in his Letters, an affectation of +familiarity with the great, an ambition of momentary equality +sought and enjoyed by the neglect of those ceremonies which +custom has established as the barriers between one order of +society and another. This transgression of regularity was by +himself and his admirers termed greatness of soul. But a great +mind disdains to hold anything by courtesy, and therefore never +usurps what a lawful claimant may take away. He that encroaches +on another’s dignity puts himself in his power; he is +either repelled with helpless indignity, or endured by clemency +and condescension.</p> +<p>Of Swift’s general habits of thinking, if his Letters +can be supposed to afford any evidence, he was not a man to be +either loved or envied. He seems to have wasted life in +discontent, by the rage of neglected pride, and the languishment +of unsatisfied desire. He is querulous and fastidious, arrogant +and malignant; he scarcely speaks of himself but with indignant +lamentations, or of others but with insolent superiority when he +is gay, and with angry contempt when he is gloomy. From the +letters that passed between him and Pope it might be inferred +that they, with Arbuthnot and Gay, had engrossed all the +understanding and virtue of mankind; that their merits filled the +world; or that there was no hope of more. They show the age +involved in darkness, and shade the picture with sullen +emulation.</p> +<p>When the Queen’s death drove him into Ireland, he might +be allowed to regret for a time the interception of his views, +the extinction of his hopes, and his ejection from gay scenes, +important employment, and splendid friendships; but when time had +enabled reason to prevail over vexation, the complaints, which at +first were natural, became ridiculous because they were useless. +But querulousness was now grown habitual, and he cried out when +he probably had ceased to feel. His reiterated wailings persuaded +Bolingbroke that he was really willing to quit his deanery for an +English parish; and Bolingbroke procured an exchange, which was +rejected; and Swift still retained the pleasure of +complaining.</p> +<p>The greatest difficulty that occurs, in analysing his +character, is to discover by what depravity of intellect he took +delight in revolving ideas, from which almost every other mind +shrinks with disgust. The ideas of pleasure, even when criminal, +may solicit the imagination; but what has disease, deformity, and +filth, upon which the thoughts can be allured to dwell? +Delany is willing to think that Swift’s mind was not much +tainted with this gross corruption before his long visit to Pope. +He does not consider how he degrades his hero, by making him at +fifty-nine the pupil of turpitude, and liable to the malignant +influence of an ascendant mind. But the truth is, that Gulliver +had described his Yahoos before the visit; and he that had formed +those images had nothing filthy to learn.</p> +<p>I have here given the character of Swift as he exhibits +himself to my perception; but now let another be heard who knew +him better. Dr. Delany, after long acquaintance, describes him to +Lord Orrery in these terms:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“My Lord, when you consider Swift’s +singular, peculiar, and most variegated vein of wit, always +rightly intended, although not always so rightly directed; +delightful in many instances, and salutary even where it is most +offensive; when you consider his strict truth, his fortitude in +resisting oppression and arbitrary power; his fidelity in +friendship; his sincere love and zeal for religion; his +uprightness in making right resolutions, and his steadiness in +adhering to them; his care of his church, its choir, its economy, +and its income; his attention to all those who preached in his +cathedral, in order to their amendment in pronunciation and +style; as also his remarkable attention to the interest of his +successors preferably to his own present emoluments; his +invincible patriotism, even to a country which he did not love; +his very various, well-devised, well-judged, and extensive +charities, throughout his life; and his whole fortune (to say +nothing of his wife’s) conveyed to the same Christian +purposes at his death; charities, from which he could enjoy no +honour, advantage, or satisfaction of any kind in this world: +when you consider his ironical and humorous, as well as his +serious schemes, for the promotion of true religion and virtue; +his success in soliciting for the First Fruits and Twentieths, to +the unspeakable benefit of the Established Church of Ireland; and +his felicity (to rate it no higher) in giving occasion to the +building of fifty new churches in London:</p> +<p>“All this considered, the character of his life will +appear like that of his writings; they will both bear to be +reconsidered, and re-examined with the utmost attention, and +always discover new beauties and excellences upon every +examination.</p> +<p>“They will bear to be considered as the sun, in which +the brightness will hide the blemishes; and whenever petulant +ignorance, pride, malignity, or envy interposes to cloud or sully +his fame, I take upon me to pronounce, that the eclipse will not +last long.</p> +<p>“To conclude—No man ever deserved better of his +country, than Swift did of his; a steady, persevering, inflexible +friend; a wise, a watchful, and a faithful counsellor, under many +severe trials and bitter persecutions, to the manifest hazard +both of his liberty and fortune.</p> +<p>“He lived a blessing, he died a benefactor, and his name +will ever live an honour to Ireland.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the poetical works of Dr. Swift there is not much upon +which the critic can exercise his powers. They are often +humorous, almost always light, and have the qualities which +recommend such compositions, easiness and gaiety. They are, for +the most part, what their author intended. The diction is +correct, the numbers are smooth, and the rhymes exact. There +seldom occurs a hard-laboured expression, or a redundant epithet; +all his verses exemplify his own definition of a good style; they +consist of “proper words in proper places.”</p> +<p>To divide this collection into classes, and show how some +pieces are gross, and some are trifling, would be to tell the +reader what he knows already, and to find faults of which the +author could not be ignorant, who certainly wrote not often to +his judgment, but his humour.</p> +<p>It was said, in a Preface to one of the Irish editions, that +Swift had never been known to take a single thought from any +writer, ancient or modern. This is not literally true; but +perhaps no writer can easily be found that has borrowed so +little, or that, in all his excellences and all his defects, has +so well maintained his claim to be considered as original.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">Printed by +Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, +E.C.</span></p> +<pre> + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS*** + + +***** This file should be named 4679-h.htm or 4679-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/7/7/4679 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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