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diff --git a/4679-0.txt b/4679-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2379891 --- /dev/null +++ b/4679-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6242 @@ +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: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS*** + + +Transcribed from the 1888 Cassell & Company edition by Les Bowler. + + [Picture: Book cover] + + CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY. + + * * * * * + + + + + + LIVES + OF THE + ENGLISH POETS + + + Addison Savage Swift + + * * * * * + + BY + SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic] + + CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: + _LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_. + 1888. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +JOHNSON’S “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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + H. M. + + + + +ADDISON. + + +JOSEPH ADDISON 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. + +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 _barring-out_, told me, +when I was a boy, by Andrew Corbet, of Shropshire, who had heard it from +Mr. Pigot, his uncle. + +The practice of _barring-out_ 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 _barred out_ at Lichfield; and +the whole operation, as he said, was planned and conducted by Addison. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Cato_. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Tatler_; 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. + +If Steele desired to write in secret, he was not lucky; a single month +detected him. His first _Tatler_ was published April 22 (1709); and +Addison’s contribution appeared May 26. Tickell observes that the +_Tatler_ 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. + +To the _Tatler_, in about two months, succeeded the _Spectator_: 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. + +Addison had enough of the zeal of party; but Steele had at that time +almost nothing else. The _Spectator_, 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 _Spectator_. + +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. + +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. + +Before the _Tatler_ and _Spectator_, 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 _arbiter elegantiarum_, (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 +_Mercurius Aulicus_, _Mercurius Rusticus_, and _Mercurius Civicus_. 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. + +These Mercuries were succeeded by L’Estrange’s _Observator_; and that by +Lesley’s _Rehearsal_, 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. + +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 _Tatler_ and _Spectator_ 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. + +The _Tatler_ and _Spectator_ 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 _Tatler_ this is told by +Steele in his last paper; and of the _Spectator_ 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. + +It is recorded by Budgell, that of the characters feigned or exhibited in +the _Spectator_, 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. + +The reason which induced Cervantes to bring his hero to the grave, _para +mi sola nacio Don Quixote_, _y yo para el_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Spectator_, whom he ridicules for his endless mention +of the _fair sex_, had before his recess wearied his readers. + +The next year (1713), in which _Cato_ came upon the stage, was the grand +climacteric of Addison’s reputation. Upon the death of _Cato_ 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. + +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. + +It may yet be doubted whether _Cato_ 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 +_poisoning the town_ by contradicting in the _Spectator_ 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. + +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.” + +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 _Distressed +Mother_; and was now, with more efficacy, practised for _Cato_.” 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.” + +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.” + +Human happiness has always its abatements; the brightest sunshine of +success is not without a cloud. No sooner was _Cato_ 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 _Cid_, his animadversions +showed his anger without effect, and _Cato_ continued to be praised. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_Cato_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +While _Cato_ was upon the stage, another daily paper, called the +_Guardian_, was published by Steele. To this Addison gave great +assistance, whether occasionally or by previous engagement is not known. +The character of _Guardian_ 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 _Guardian_ 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 _Spectator_, 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 _Guardian_ to write the Englishman. + +The papers of Addison are marked in the _Spectator_ by one of the letters +in the name of Clio, and in the _Guardian_ 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. + +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 _The Drummer_. 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 _The Drummer_ to the play-house, and +afterwards to the press, and sold the copy for fifty guineas. + +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. + +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 _Whig +Examiner_, 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 _Whig Examiners_; 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. + +Not long afterwards an attempt was made to revive the _Spectator_, 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 _Spectator_, 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. + +The _Spectator_, 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 _Spectator_ had many contributors; +and Steele, whose negligence kept him always in a hurry, when it was his +turn to furnish a paper, called loudly for the letters, of which Addison, +whose materials were more, made little use—having recourse to sketches +and hints, 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. + +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 _Freeholder_, 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. + + “Jacobœi. + Centum exulantis viscera Marsupii regis.” + +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. + +Steele thought the humour of the _Freeholder_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Dicky_, 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 _Cato_, 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. + +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 +_civile_,” 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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +In Tickell’s excellent Elegy on his friend are these lines:— + + “He taught us how to live; and, oh! too high + The price of knowledge, taught us how to die”— + +in which he alludes, as he told Dr. Young, to this moving interview. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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 _Spectators_ 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 _Cato_ to which I made an objection was +suffered to stand.” + +The last line of _Cato_ is Pope’s, having been originally written— + + “And oh! ’twas this that ended Cato’s life.” + +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 _Discord_ +is made to produce _Strife_. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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— + + “Thy verse could show even Cromwell’s innocence, + And compliment the storms that bore him hence. + Oh! had thy Muse not come an age too soon, + But seen great Nassau on the British throne, + How had his triumph glittered in thy page!” + +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. + +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:— + + “Fired with that name— + I bridle in my struggling Muse with pain, + That longs to launch into a nobler strain.” + +To _bridle a goddess_ is no very delicate idea; but why must she be +_bridled_? because she _longs to launch_; an act which was never hindered +by a _bridle_: and whither will she _launch_? into a _nobler strain_. She +is in the first line a _horse_, in the second a _boat_; and the care of +the poet is to keep his _horse_ or his _boat_ from _singing_. + +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:— + + “Marlb’rough’s exploits appear divinely bright— + Raised of themselves their genuine charms they boast, + And those that paint them truest, praise them most.” + +This Pope had in his thoughts, but, not knowing how to use what was not +his own, he spoiled the thought when he had borrowed it:— + + “The well-sung woes shall soothe my pensive ghost; + He best can paint them who shall feel them most.” + +Martial exploits may be _painted_; perhaps _woes_ may be _painted_; but +they are surely not _painted_ by being _well sung_: it is not easy to +paint in song, or to sing in colours. + +No passage in the “Campaign” has been more often mentioned than the +simile of the angel, which is said in the _Tatler_ 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. + +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.” + +The opera of _Rosamond_, 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. + +The tragedy of _Cato_, 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 _Cato_ 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. _Cato_ 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. + +When _Cato_ 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— + +“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.” + +He then condemns the neglect of poetical justice, which is one of his +favourite principles:— + +“’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.” + +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 “_mirror of life_,” it ought to show us sometimes what +we are to expect. + +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:— + +“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?” + +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:— + +“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:— + + “‘_Syph_. But is it true, Sempronius, that your senate + Is called together? Gods! thou must be cautious; + Cato has piercing eyes.’ + +“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:— + + “‘Gods! thou must be cautious.’ + +Oh! yes, very cautious: for if Cato should overhear you, and turn you off +for politicians, Cæsar would never take you. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + + “‘_Semp_. Know, villains, when such paltry slaves presume + To mix in treason, if the plot succeeds, + They’re thrown neglected by; but, if it fails, + They’re sure to die like dogs, as you shall do. + Here, take these factious monsters, drag them forth + To sudden death.’ + +“’Tis true, indeed, the second leader says there are none there but +friends; 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— + + “‘Here, take these factious monsters, drag them forth + To sudden death—’ + +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. + + “‘_Syph_. Our first design, my friend, has proved abortive; + Still there remains an after-game to play: + My troops are mounted; their Numidian steeds + Snuff up the winds, and long to scour the desert. + Let but Sempronius lead us in our flight, + We’ll force the gate where Marcus keeps his guard, + And hew down all that would oppose our passage; + A day will bring us into Cæsar’s camp. + + _Semp_. Confusion! I have failed of half my purpose; + Marcia, the charming Marcia’s left behind.’ + +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 + + “‘Marcia, the charming Marcia’s left behind’? + +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:— + + “‘What hinders, then, but that you find her out, + And hurry her away by manly force?’ + +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. + + “‘_Semp_. But how to gain admission?’ + +Oh! she is found out then, it seems. + + “‘But how to gain admission? for access + Is giv’n to none but Juba and her brothers.’ + +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 _nonpareil_. + + “‘_Syph_. Thou shalt have Juba’s dress, and Juba’s guards; + The doors will open when Numidia’s prince + Seems to appear before them.’ + +“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 + + “‘To hurry her away by manly force,’ + +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:— + + “‘_Semp_. Heavens! what a thought was there!’ + +“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? + +“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. + +“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:— + + “‘_Semp_. The deer is lodged; I’ve tracked her to her covert.’ + +“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:— + + “‘The deer is lodged; I’ve tracked her to her covert.’ + +“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 _baggage_); instead of doing this, Sempronius is entertaining himself +with whimsies:— + + “‘_Semp_. How will the young Numidian rave to see + His mistress lost! If aught could glad my soul + Beyond th’ enjoyment of so bright a prize, + ’Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian. + But hark! what noise? Death to my hopes! ’tis he, + ’Tis Juba’s self! There is but one way left! + He must be murdered, and a passage cut + Through those his guards.’ + +“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. + +“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:— + + “‘Hah! dastards, do you tremble? + Or act like men; or, by yon azure heav’n!’— + +“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? + +“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:— + + “‘_Luc_. Sure ’twas the clash of swords! my troubled heart + Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, + It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound!’ + +And immediately her old whimsy returns upon her:— + + “O Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake— + I die away with horror at the thought.’ + +“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, + + “‘The face is muffled up within the garment.’ + +“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. + +“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? + +“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.” + +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, _Cato_ 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. + +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 +_Rosamond_, and too smooth in _Cato_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + “Mille habet ornatus, mille decenter habet.” + +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. + +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. + + + + +SAVAGE. + + +IT 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. + +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. + +To these mournful narratives I am about to add the Life of RICHARD +SAVAGE, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +Being hindered, by whatever means, from banishing him into another +country, she formed soon after a scheme for burying him in poverty and +obscurity in his own; and that his station of life, if not the place of +his residence, might keep him for ever at a distance from her, she +ordered him to be placed with a shoemaker in Holborn, that, after the +usual time of trial, he might become his apprentice. + +It is generally reported that this project was for some time 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Woman’s a Riddle_, but allowed the unhappy author no part of +the profit. + +Not discouraged, however, at his repulse, he wrote two years afterwards +_Love in a Veil_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Plain Dealer_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:— + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +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:— + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The interposition of this lady was so successful, that he was soon after +admitted to bail, and, on the 9th of March, 1728, pleaded the king’s +pardon. + +It is natural to inquire upon what motives his mother could persecute him +in a manner so outrageous and implacable; for what reason she could +employ all the arts of malice, and 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:— + + “I fly all public care, all venal strife, + To try the still, compared with active, life; + To prove, by these, the sons of men may owe + The fruits of bliss to bursting clouds of woe; + That ev’n calamity, by thought refined, + Inspirits and adorns the thinking mind.” + +And more distinctly in the following passage:— + + “By woe, the soul to daring action swells; + By woe, in plaintless patience it excels: + From patience prudent, clear experience springs, + And traces knowledge through the course of things. + Thence hope is formed, thence fortitude, success, + Renown—whate’er men covet and caress.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:— + + “No mother’s care + Shielded my infant innocence with prayer; + No father’s guardian hand my youth maintained, + Called forth my virtues, or from vice restrained.” + +“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. + +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 _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, +whence I have copied it entire, as this was one of the few attempts in +which Mr. Savage succeeded. + + “MR. URBAN,—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. + + “Yours, etc.” + +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. + +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. + + + +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 _The +Gentleman’s Magazine_, by which they were dispersed over the kingdom. + +Of some of them he had himself so low an opinion that he intended to omit +them in the collection of poems 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. + +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 _The Daily Courant_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _The Weekly Miscellany_ with severity, which he did not seem +inclined to forget. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + “But what the flowering pride of gardens rare, + However royal, or however fair, + If gates which to excess should still give way, + Ope but, like Peter’s paradise, for pay; + If perquisited varlets frequent stand, + And each new walk must a new tax demand; + What foreign eye but with contempt surveys? + What Muse shall from oblivion snatch their praise?” + +But before the publication of his performance he 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. + +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. + +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: + + “Though misery leads to happiness and truth, + Unequal to the load this languid youth, + (Oh, let none censure, if, untried by grief, + If, amidst woe, untempted by relief), + He stooped reluctant to low arts of shame, + Which then, e’en then, he scorned, and blushed to name.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _The Gentleman’s Magazine_. 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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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:— + + “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 _delineated_? 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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_three words_ in “The Wanderer” to the advice of his friends. His +veracity was questioned, but with little reason; his accounts, though not +indeed always the same, were generally consistent. When he loved any man, +he suppressed all his faults; and when he had been offended by him, +concealed all his virtues; but his characters were generally true, so far +as he proceeded; though it cannot be denied that his partiality might +have sometimes the effect of falsehood. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + + + + +SWIFT. + + +AN 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. + +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. + +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 _special favour_; a +term used in that university to denote want of merit. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.’” + +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. + +“The Battle of the Books” is so like the “_Combat des Livres_,” 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. + +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.” + +“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:— + +“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.” + +The reasonableness of a _Test_ 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 _Tatler_, to assume an appellation which +had already gained possession of the reader’s notice. + +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. + +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.” + +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 +_Tatler_, 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 _Examiner_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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.” + +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, “_multa +gemens_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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 _Cadenus_ 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:— + + “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 + _Cadenus and Vanessa_ 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.’” + +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 _M. B. Drapier_, 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. + +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. + +Swift was known from this time by the appellation of _The Dean_. 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 _Drapier_ was a sign; the _Drapier_ 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 _Drapier_. + +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 _Drapier’s_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Of his humour, a story told by Pope may afford a specimen. + + “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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:— + + “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: + + “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. + + “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. + + “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. + + “He lived a blessing, he died a benefactor, and his name will ever + live an honour to Ireland.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIVES OF THE ENGLISH POETS*** + + +******* This file should be named 4679-0.txt or 4679-0.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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