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Metuunt. Quid Longo Carmine Plura

  Commemorem? Virtute Nihil Praestantius Ipsa,

  Splendidius Nihil Est. Nihil Est Jove Denique Majus.

  Sed tempus Finem Argutis Imponere Nugis:

  Ne Tibi Si Multa Laudem Mea Carmina Charta,

  De Nihilo Nihili Pariant Fastidia Versus.

 

 

 

[Footnote 67: Dr. Johnson Has Made No Mention Of Valentinian, Altered

From Beaumont And Fletcher, Which Was Published after His Death By A

Friend, Who Describes Him In the Preface, Not Only As Being one Of The

Greatest Geniuses, But One Of The Most Virtuous Men That Ever Existed.

J.B.]

 

 

 

[Footnote 68: I Quote From Memory. Dr. J.] [Footnote 69: The Late George

Steevens, Esq. Made The Selection Of Rochester'S Poems Which Appears In

Dr. Johnson'S Edition; But Mr. Malone Observes, That The Same Task Had

Been Performed, In the Early Part Of The Last Century, By Jacob Tonson.

C.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Roscommon

 

 

 

Wentworth Dillon, Earl Of Roscommon, Was The Son Of James Dillon And

Elizabeth Wentworth, Sister To The Earl Of Strafford. He Was Born In

Ireland[70], During the Lieutenancy Of Strafford, Who, Being both His

Uncle And His Godfather, Gave Him His Own Surname. His Father, The

Third Earl Of Roscommon, Had Been Converted by Usher To The Protestant

Religion[71]; And When The Popish Rebellion Broke Out, Strafford,

Thinking the Family In great Danger From The Fury Of The Irish, Sent For

His Godson, And Placed him At His Own Seat In yorkshire, Where He Was

Instructed in latin; Which He Learned so As To Write It With Purity And

Elegance, Though He Was Never Able To Retain The Rules Of Grammar.

 

 

 

Such Is The Account Given By Mr. Fenton, From Whose Notes On Waller Most

Of This Account Must Be Borrowed, Though I Know Not Whether All That He

Relates Is Certain. The Instructer Whom He Assigns To Roscommon Is One

Dr. Hall, By Whom He Cannot Mean The Famous Hall, Then An Old Man And A

Bishop.

 

 

 

When The Storm Broke Out Upon Strafford, His House Was A Shelter No

Longer; And Dillon, By The Advice Of Usher, Was Sent To Caen, Where The

Protestants Had Then An University, And Continued his Studies Under

Bochart.

 

 

 

Young Dillon, Who Was Sent To Study Under Bochart, And Who Is Represented

As Having already Made Great Proficiency In literature, Could Not Be More

Than Nine Years Old. Strafford Went To Govern Ireland In 1633, And

Was Put To Death Eight Years Afterwards. That He Was Sent To Caen, Is

Certain: That He Was A Great Scholar, May Be Doubted. At Caen He Is Said

To Have Had Some Preternatural Intelligence Of His Father'S Death.

 

 

 

"The Lord Roscommon, Being a Boy Of Ten Years Of Age, At Caen In

Normandy, One Day Was, As It Were, Madly Extravagant In playing, Leaping,

Getting over The Tables, Boards, &C. He Was Wont To Be Sober Enough;

They Said, God Grant This Bodes No Ill Luck To Him! In the Heat Of This

Extravagant Fit, He Cries Out, 'My Father Is Dead.' A Fortnight After,

News Came From Ireland That His Father Was Dead. This Account I Had From

Mr. Knolles, Who Was His Governour, And Then With Him,--Since Secretary

To The Earl Of Strafford; And I Have Heard His Lordship'S Relations

Confirm The Same." Aubrey'S Miscellany.

 

 

 

The Present Age Is Very Little Inclined to Favour Any Accounts Of This

Kind, Nor Will The Name Of Aubrey Much Recommend It To Credit: It Ought

Not, However, To Be Omitted, Because Better Evidence Of A Fact Cannot

Easily Be Found, Than Is Here Offered; And It Must Be By Preserving such

Relations That We May, At Last, Judge How Much They Are To Be Regarded.

If We Stay To Examine This Account, We Shall See Difficulties On Both

Sides: Here Is The Relation Of A Fact Given By A Man Who Had No Interest

To Deceive, And Who Could Not Be Deceived himself; And Here Is, On The

Other Hand, A Miracle Which Produces No Effect; The Order Of Nature Is

Interrupted to Discover Not A Future, But Only A Distant Event, The

Knowledge Of Which Is Of No Use To Him To Whom It Is Revealed. Between

These Difficulties, What Way Shall Be Found? Is Reason Or Testimony To Be

Rejected? I Believe, What Osborne Says Of An Appearance Of Sanctity May

Be Applied to Such Impulses Or Anticipations As This: "Do Not Wholly

Slight Them, Because They May Be True; But Do Not Easily Trust Them,

Because They May Be False."

 

 

 

The State Both Of England And Ireland Was, At This Time, Such, That He

Who Was Absent From Either Country Had Very Little Temptation To Return;

And, Therefore, Roscommon, When He Left Caen, Travelled into Italy, And

Amused himself With Its Antiquities, And, Particularly, With Medals, In

Which He Acquired uncommon Skill. At The Restoration, With The Other

Friends Of Monarchy, He Came To England, Was Made Captain Of The Band Of

Pensioners, And Learned so Much Of The Dissoluteness Of The Court, That

He Addicted himself Immoderately To Gaming, By Which He Was Engaged in

Frequent Quarrels, And Which, Undoubtedly, Brought Upon Him Its Usual

Concomitants, Extravagance And Distress.

 

 

 

After Some Time, A Dispute About Part Of His Estate Forced him Into

Ireland, Where He Was Made, By The Duke Of Ormond, Captain Of The Guards,

And Met With An Adventure Thus Related by Fenton:

 

 

 

"He Was At Dublin, As Much As Ever, Distempered with The Same Fatal

Affection For Play, Which Engaged him In one Adventure, That Well

Deserves To Be Related. As He Returned to His Lodgings From A

Gaming-Table, He Was Attacked, In the Dark, By Three Ruffians, Who Were

Employed to Assassinate Him. The Earl Defended himself With So Much

Resolution, That He Despatched one Of The Aggressors; Whilst A Gentleman,

Accidentally Passing that Way, Interposed, And Disarmed another; The

Third Secured himself By Flight. This Generous Assistant Was A Disbanded

Officer, Of A Good Family And Fair Reputation; Who, By What We Call The

Partiality Of Fortune, To Avoid Censuring the Iniquities Of The Times,

Wanted even A Plain Suit Of Clothes To Make A Decent Appearance At The

Castle. But His Lordship, On This Occasion, Presenting him To The Duke Of

Ormond, With Great Importunity Prevailed with His Grace, That He Might

Resign His Post Of Captain Of The Guards To His Friend; Which, For

About Three Years, The Gentleman Enjoyed, And, Upon His Death, The Duke

Returned the Commission To His Generous Benefactor."

 

 

 

When He Had Finished his Business, He Returned to London; Was Made Master

Of The Horse To The Dutchess Of York; And Married the Lady Frances,

Daughter Of The Earl Of Burlington, And Widow Of Colonel Courteney[72].

 

 

 

He Now Busied his Mind With Literary Projects, And Formed the Plan Of A

Society For Refining our Language And Fixing its Standard;

"In Imitation," Says Fenton, "Of Those Learned and Polite Societies With

Which He Had Been Acquainted abroad." In this Design His Friend Dryden Is

Said To Have Assisted him.

 

 

 

The Same Design, It Is Well Known, Was Revived by Dr. Swift, In the

Ministry Of Oxford; But It Has Never Since Been Publickly Mentioned,

Though, At That Time, Great Expectations Were Formed, By Some, Of Its

Establishment And Its Effects. Such A Society Might, Perhaps, Without

Much Difficulty, Be Collected; But That It Would Produce What Is Expected

From It, May Be Doubted.

 

 

 

The Italian Academy Seems To Have Obtained its End. The Language Was

Refined, And So Fixed that It Has Changed but Little. The French Academy

Thought They Had Refined their Language, And, Doubtless, Thought Rightly;

But The Event Has Not Shown That They Fixed it; For The French Of The

Present Time Is Very Different From That Of The Last Century.

 

 

 

In This Country An Academy Could Be Expected to Do But Little. If An

Academician'S Place Were Profitable, It Would Be Given By Interest; If

Attendance Were Gratuitous, It Would Be Rarely Paid, And No Man Would

Endure The Least Disgust. Unanimity Is Impossible, And Debate Would

Separate The Assembly.

 

 

 

But Suppose The Philological Decree Made And Promulgated, What Would Be

Its Authority? In absolute Governments, There Is, Sometimes, A General

Reverence Paid To All That Has The Sanction Of Power, And The Countenance

Of Greatness. How Little This Is The State Of Our Country Needs Not To Be

Told. We Live In an Age In which It Is A Kind Of Publick Sport To Refuse

All Respect That Cannot Be Enforced. The Edicts Of An English Academy

Would, Probably, Be Read By Many, Only That They Might Be Sure To Disobey

Them.

 

 

 

That Our Language Is In perpetual Danger Of Corruption Cannot Be Denied;

But What Prevention Can Be Found? The Present Manners Of The Nation Would

Deride Authority; And, Therefore, Nothing is Left But That Every Writer

Should Criticise Himself. All Hopes Of New Literary Institutions Were

Quickly Suppressed by The Contentious Turbulence Of King james'S Reign;

And Roscommon, Foreseeing that Some Violent Concussion Of The State Was

At Hand, Purposed to Retire To Rome, Alleging, That "It Was Best To Sit

Near The Chimney When The Chamber Smoked;" A Sentence, Of Which The

Application Seems Not Very Clear.

 

 

 

His Departure Was Delayed by The Gout; And He Was So Impatient Either Of

Hinderance Or Of Pain, That He Submitted himself To A French Empirick,

Who Is Said To Have Repelled the Disease Into His Bowels.

 

 

 

At The Moment In which He Expired, He Uttered, With An Energy Of Voice,

That Expressed the Most Fervent Devotion, Two Lines Of His Own Version Of

Dies Irae:

 

 

 

  My God, My Father, And My Friend,

  Do Not Forsake Me In my End.

 

 

 

He Died in 1684; And Was Buried, With Great Pomp, In westminster Abbey.

 

 

 

His Poetical Character Is Given By Mr. Fenton:

 

 

 

"In His Writings," Says Fenton, "We View The Image Of A Mind Which Was

Naturally Serious And Solid; Richly Furnished and Adorned with All The

Ornaments Of Learning, Unaffectedly Disposed in the Most Regular And

Elegant Order. His Imagination Might Have Probably Been More Fruitful

And Sprightly, If His Judgment Had Been Less Severe. But That Severity,

Delivered in a Masculine, Clear, Succinct Style, Contributed to Make

Him So Eminent In the Didactical Manner, That No Man, With Justice, Can

Affirm, He Was Ever Equalled by Any Of Our Nation, Without Confessing,

At The Same Time, That He Is Inferiour To None. In some Other Kinds Of

Writing his Genius Seems To Have Wanted fire To Attain The Point Of

Perfection; But Who Can Attain It?"

 

 

 

From This Account Of The Riches Of His Mind, Who Would Not Imagine That

They Had Been Displayed in large Volumes And Numerous Performances? Who

Would Not, After The Perusal Of This Character, Be Surprised to Find

That All The Proofs Of This Genius, And Knowledge, And Judgment, Are

Not Sufficient To Form A Single Book, Or To Appear Otherwise Than In

Conjunction With The Works Of Some Other Writer Of The Same Petty

Size[73]? But Thus It Is That Characters Are Written: We Know Somewhat,

And We Imagine The Rest. The Observation, That His Imagination Would,

Probably, Have Been More Fruitful And Sprightly, If His Judgment Had Been

Less Severe, May Be Answered, By A Remarker Somewhat Inclined to Cavil,

By A Contrary Supposition, That His Judgment Would, Probably, Have Been

Less Severe, If His Imagination Had Been More Fruitful. It Is Ridiculous

To Oppose Judgment To Imagination; For It Does Not Appear That Men Have

Necessarily Less Of One, As They Have More Of The Other.

 

 

 

We Must Allow Of Roscommon, What Fenton Has Not Mentioned so Distinctly

As He Ought, And What Is Yet Very Much To His Honour, That He Is,

Perhaps, The Only Correct Writer In verse, Before Addison; And That, If

There Are Not So Many Or So Great Beauties In his Compositions As In

Those Of Some Contemporaries, There Are, At Least, Fewer Faults. Nor Is

This His Highest Praise; For Mr. Pope Has Celebrated him, As The Only

Moral Writer Of King charles'S Reign:

 

 

 

  Unhappy Dryden! In all Charles'S Days,

  Roscommon Only Boasts Unspotted lays.

 

 

 

His Great Work Is His Essay On Translated verse; Of Which Dryden Writes

Thus, In the Preface To His Miscellanies:

 

 

 

"It Was My Lord Roscommon'S Essay On Translated verse," Says Dryden,

"Which Made Me Uneasy, Till I Tried whether Or No I Was Capable Of

Following his Rules, And Of Reducing the Speculation Into Practice. For

Many A Fair Precept In poetry Is Like A Seeming demonstration In

Mathematicks, Very Specious In the Diagram, But Failing in the Mechanick

Operation. I Think I Have Generally Observed his Instructions: I Am Sure

My Reason Is Sufficiently Convinced both Of Their Truth And Usefulness;

Which, In other Words, Is To Confess No Less A Vanity Than To Pretend

That I Have, At Least, In some Places, Made Examples To His Rules."

 

 

 

This Declaration Of Dryden Will, I Am Afraid, Be Found Little More Than

One Of Those Cursory Civilities Which One Author Pays To Another; For

When The Sum Of Lord Roscommon'S Precepts Is Collected, It

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