Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III), Samuel Johnson [good summer reads .TXT] 📗
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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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