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

Was Ulysses; Which, With The Common Fate Of Mythological

Stories, Is Now Generally Neglected. We Have Been Too Early Acquainted

With The Poetical Heroes, To Expect Any Pleasure From Their Revival; To

Show Them As They Have Already Been Shown, Is To Disgust By Repetition;

To Give Them New Qualities, Or New Adventures, Is To Offend By Violating

Received notions.

 

 

 

The Royal Convert, 1708, Seems To Have A Better Claim To Longevity. The

Fable Is Drawn From An Obscure And Barbarous Age, To Which Fictions Are

Most Easily And Properly Adapted; For When Objects Are Imperfectly

Seen, They Easily Take Forms From Imagination. The Scene Lies Among

Our Ancestors In our Own Country, And, Therefore, Very Easily Catches

Attention. Rodogune Is A Personage Truly Tragical, Of High Spirit, And

Violent Passions, Great With Tempestuous Dignity, And Wicked with A Soul

That Would Have Been Heroick If It Had Been Virtuous. The Motto Seems To

Tell That This Play Was Not Successful.

 

 

 

Rowe Does Not Always Remember What His Characters Require. In tamerlane

There Is Some Ridiculous Mention Of The God Of Love; And Rodogune, A

Savage Saxon, Talks Of Venus, And The Eagle That Bears The Thunder Of

Jupiter.

 

 

 

This Play Discovers Its Own Date, By A Prediction Of The Union, In

Imitation Of Cranmer'S Prophetick Promises To Henry The Eighth. The

Anticipated blessings Of Union Are Not Very Naturally Introduced, Nor

Very Happily Expressed.

 

 

 

He Once, 1706, Tried to Change His Hand. He Ventured on A Comedy, And

Produced the Biter; With Which, Though It Was Unfavourably Treated by The

Audience, He Was Himself Delighted; For He Is Said To Have Sat In the

House Laughing with Great Vehemence, Whenever He Had, In his Own Opinion,

Produced a Jest. But, Finding that He And The Publick Had No Sympathy Of

Mirth, He Tried at Lighter Scenes No More.

 

 

 

After The Royal Convert, 1714, Appeared jane Shore, Written, As Its

Author Professes, "In Imitation Of Shakespeare'S Style." In what He

Thought Himself An Imitator Of Shakespeare, It Is Not Easy To Conceive.

The Numbers, The Diction, The Sentiments, And The Conduct, Every Thing in

Which Imitation Can Consist, Are Remote, In the Utmost Degree, From The

Manner Of Shakespeare; Whose Dramas It Resembles Only As It Is An English

Story, And As Some Of The Persons Have Their Names In history. This Play,

Consisting chiefly Of Domestick Scenes And Private Distress, Lays Hold

Upon The Heart. The Wife Is Forgiven, Because She Repents, And The

Husband Is Honoured, Because He Forgives. This, Therefore, Is One Of

Those Pieces Which We Still Welcome On The Stage.

 

 

 

His Last Tragedy, 1715, Was Lady Jane Grey. This Subject Had Been Chosen

By Mr. Smith, Whose Papers Were Put Into Rowe'S Hands, Such As He

Describes Them In his Preface. This Play Has, Likewise, Sunk Into

Oblivion. From This Time He Gave Nothing more To The Stage.

 

 

 

Being, By A Competent Fortune, Exempted from Any Necessity Of Combating

His Inclination, He Never Wrote In distress, And, Therefore, Does Not

Appear To Have Ever Written In haste. His Works Were Finished to His Own

Approbation, And Bear Few Marks Of Negligence Or Hurry. It Is Remarkable,

That His Prologues And Epilogues Are All His Own, Though He Sometimes

Supplied others; He Afforded help, But Did Not Solicit It. As His Studies

Necessarily Made Him Acquainted with Shakespeare, And Acquaintance

Produced veneration, He Undertook, 1709, An Edition Of His Works, From

Which He Neither Received much Praise, Nor Seems To Have Expected it;

Yet, I Believe, Those Who Compare It With Former Copies Will Find, That

He Has Done More Than He Promised; And That, Without The Pomp Of Notes,

Or Boasts Of Criticism, Many Passages Are Happily Restored. He Prefixed

A Life Of The Author, Such As Tradition, Then Almost Expiring, Could

Supply, And A Preface[147], Which Cannot Be Said To Discover Much

Profundity Or Penetration. He, At Least, Contributed to The Popularity Of

His Author.

 

 

 

He Was Willing enough To Improve His Fortune By Other Arts Than Poetry.

He Was Under-Secretary, For Three Years, When The Duke Of Queensberry Was

Secretary Of State, And Afterwards Applied to The Earl Of Oxford For Some

Publick Employment[148]. Oxford Enjoined him To Study Spanish; And When,

Some Time Afterwards, He Came Again, And Said That He Had Mastered it,

Dismissed him, With This Congratulation: "Then, Sir, I Envy You The

Pleasure Of Reading don Quixote In the Original."

 

 

 

This Story Is Sufficiently Attested; But Why Oxford, Who Desired to

Be Thought A Favourer Of Literature, Should Thus Insult A Man Of

Acknowledged merit; Or How Rowe, Who Was So Keen A Whig[148], That He

Did Not Willingly Converse With Men Of The Opposite Party, Could Ask

Preferment From Oxford, It Is Not Now Possible To Discover. Pope, Who

Told The Story, Did Not Say On What Occasion The Advice Was Given; And,

Though He Owned rowe'S Disappointment, Doubted whether Any Injury Was

Intended him, But Thought It Rather Lord Oxford'S _Odd Way_.

 

 

 

It Is Likely That He Lived on Discontented through The Rest Of Queen

Anne'S Reign; But The Time Came, At Last, When He Found Kinder Friends.

At The Accession Of King george He Was Made Poet-Laureate; I Am Afraid,

By The Ejection Of Poor Nahum Tate, Who, 1716, Died in the Mint, Where

He Was Forced to Seek Shelter By Extreme Poverty[150]. He Was Made,

Likewise, One Of The Land-Surveyors Of The Customs Of The Port Of

London. The Prince Of Wales Chose Him Clerk Of His Council; And The Lord

Chancellor Parker, As Soon As He Received the Seals, Appointed him,

Unasked, Secretary Of The Presentations. Such An Accumulation Of

Employments Undoubtedly Produced a Very Considerable Revenue.

 

 

 

Having already Translated some Parts Of Lucan'S Pharsalia, Which Had Been

Published in the Miscellanies, And Doubtless Received many Praises, He

Undertook A Version Of The Whole Work, Which He Lived to Finish, But Not

To Publish. It Seems To Have Been Printed under The Care Of Dr. Welwood,

Who Prefixed the Author'S Life, In which Is Contained the Following

Character:

 

 

 

"As To His Person, It Was Graceful And Well Made; His Face Regular, And

Of A Manly Beauty. As His Soul Was Well Lodged, So Its Rational And

Animal Faculties Excelled in a High Degree. He Had A Quick And Fruitful

Invention, A Deep Penetration, And A Large Compass Of Thought, With

Singular Dexterity And Easiness In making his Thoughts To Be Understood.

He Was Master Of Most Parts Of Polite Learning, Especially The Classical

Authors, Both Greek And Latin; Understood The French, Italian, And

Spanish Languages; And Spoke The First Fluently, And The Other Two

Tolerably Well.

 

 

 

"He Had Likewise Read Most Of The Greek And Roman Histories In their

Original Languages, And Most That Are Wrote In english, French, Italian,

And Spanish. He Had A Good Taste In philosophy; And, Having a Firm

Impression Of Religion Upon His Mind, He Took Great Delight In divinity

And Ecclesiastical History, In both Which He Made Great Advances In the

Times He Retired into The Country, Which Were Frequent. He Expressed, On

All Occasions, His Full Persuasion Of The Truth Of Revealed religion; And

Being a Sincere Member Of The Established church Himself, He Pitied, But

Condemned not, Those That Dissented from It. He Abhorred the Principles

Of Persecuting men Upon The Account Of Their Opinions In religion; And,

Being strict In his Own, He Took It Not Upon Him To Censure Those Of

Another Persuasion. His Conversation Was Pleasant, Witty, And Learned,

Without The Least Tincture Of Affectation Or Pedantry; And His Inimitable

Manner Of Diverting and Enlivening the Company Made It Impossible For Any

One To Be Out Of Humour When He Was In it. Envy And Detraction Seemed to

Be Entirely Foreign To His Constitution; And Whatever Provocations He

Met With At Any Time, He Passed them Over Without The Least Thought Of

Resentment Or Revenge. As Homer Had A Zoilus, So Mr. Rowe Had Sometimes

His; For There Were Not Wanting malevolent People, And Pretenders To

Poetry Too, That Would Now And Then Bark At His Best Performances; But

He Was Conscious Of His Own Genius, And Had So Much Good-Nature As To

Forgive Them; Nor Could He Ever Be Tempted to Return Them An Answer.

 

 

 

"The Love Of Learning and Poetry Made Him Not The Less Fit For Business,

And Nobody Applied himself Closer To It, When It Required his Attendance.

The Late Duke Of Queensberry, When He Was Secretary Of State, Made Him

His Secretary For Publick Affairs; And When That Truly Great Man Came

To Know Him Well, He Was Never So Pleased as When Mr. Rowe Was In

His Company. After The Duke'S Death, All Avenues Were Stopped to His

Preferment; And, During the Rest Of That Reign, He Passed his Time With

The Muses And His Books, And Sometimes The Conversation Of His Friends.

 

 

 

"When He Had Just Got To Be Easy In his Fortune, And Was In a Fair Way To

Make It Better, Death Swept Him Away, And In him Deprived the World Of

One Of The Best Men, As Well As One Of The Best Geniuses Of The Age. He

Died like A Christian And A Philosopher, In charity With All Mankind,

And With An Absolute Resignation To The Will Of God. He Kept Up His

Good-Humour To The Last; And Took Leave Of His Wife And Friends

Immediately Before His Last Agony, With The Same Tranquillity Of Mind,

And The Same Indifference For Life, As Though He Had Been Upon Taking

But A Short Journey. He Was Twice Married; First To A Daughter Of Mr.

Parsons, One Of The Auditors Of The Revenue; And Afterwards To A Daughter

Of Mr. Devenish, Of A Good Family In dorsetshire[151]. By The First He

Had A Son; And By The Second A Daughter, Married afterwards To Mr. Fane.

He Died the Sixth Of December, 1718, In the Forty-Fifth Year Of His Age;

And Was Buried the Nineteenth Of The Same Month In westminster Abbey,

In The Aisle Where Many Of Our English Poets Are Interred, Over Against

Chaucer, His Body Being attended by A Select Number Of His Friends, And

The Dean And Choir Officiating at The Funeral."

 

 

 

To This Character, Which Is Apparently Given With The Fondness Of A

Friend, May Be Added the Testimony Of Pope, Who Says, In a Letter To

Blount: "Mr. Rowe Accompanied me, And Passed a Week In the Forest. I

Need not Tell You How Much A Man Of His Turn Entertained me; But I Must

Acquaint You, There Is A Vivacity And Gaiety Of Disposition, Almost

Peculiar To Him, Which Makes It Impossible To Part From Him Without That

Uneasiness Which Generally Succeeds All Our Pleasure."

 

 

 

Pope Has Left Behind Him Another Mention Of His Companion, Less

Advantageous, Which Is Thus Reported by Dr. Warburton.

 

 

 

"Rowe, In mr. Pope'S Opinion, Maintained a Decent Character, But Had No

Heart. Mr. Addison Was Justly Offended with Some Behaviour Which Arose

From That Want, And Estranged himself From Him; Which Rowe Felt

Very Severely. Mr. Pope, Their Common Friend, Knowing this, Took An

Opportunity, At Some Juncture Of Mr. Addison'S Advancement, To Tell Him

How Poor Rowe Was Grieved at His Displeasure, And What Satisfaction He

Expressed at Mr. Addison'S Good Fortune, Which He Expressed so Naturally,

That He (Mr. Pope) Could Not But Think Him Sincere. Mr. Addison Replied,

'I Do Not Suspect That He Feigned; But The Levity Of His Heart Is Such,

That He Is Struck With Any New Adventure; And It Would Affect Him Just In

The Same Manner, If He Heard I Was Going to Be Hanged.' Mr. Pope Said He

Could Not Deny But Mr. Addison Understood Rowe Well[152]."

 

 

 

This Censure Time Has Not Left Us The Power Of Confirming or Refuting;

But Observation Daily Shows, That Much Stress Is Not To Be Laid On

Hyperbolical Accusations, And Pointed sentences, Which Even He That

Utters Them Desires To Be Applauded rather Than Credited. Addison Can

Hardly Be Supposed to Have Meant All That He Said. Few Characters Can

Bear The Microscopick Scrutiny Of Wit Quickened by Anger; And, Perhaps,

The Best Advice To Authors Would Be, That They Should Keep Out Of The Way

Of One Another.

 

 

 

Rowe Is Chiefly To Be Considered as A Tragick Writer And A Translator. In

His Attempt At Comedy He Failed so Ignominiously, That His Biter Is Not

Inserted in his Works; And His Occasional Poems And Short Compositions

Are Rarely Worthy Of Either Praise Or Censure; For They Seem The Casual

Sports Of A Mind Seeking rather To Amuse Its Leisure Than To Exercise Its

Powers.

 

 

 

In The Construction Of His Dramas, There Is Not Much Art; He Is Not A

Nice Observer Of The Unities. He Extends Time And Varies Place As His

Convenience Requires. To Vary The Place Is Not, In my Opinion, Any

Violation Of Nature, If The Change Be Made Between The Acts; For It Is No

Less Easy For The Spectator To Suppose Himself At Athens In the Second

Act, Than