The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) Volume III.

by Theophilus Cibber

LADY CHUDLEIGH

Was born in the year 1656, and was daughter of Richard Lee of Winslade, in the county of Devon, esq; She had an education in which literature seemed but little regarded, being taught no other language than her native tongue; but her love of books, incessant industry in the reading of them, and her great capacity to improve by them, enabled her to make a very considerable figure in literature.

She was married to Sir George Chudleigh of Ashton in the county of Devon, Bart, by whom she had issue Eliza Maria, who died in the bloom of life, (much lamented by her mother, who poured out her griefs on that occasion, in a Poem entitled a Dialogue between Lucinda and Marissa) and George, who succeeded to the title and estate, Thomas, and others.

She was a lady of great virtue, as well as understanding, and she made the latter of these subservient to the promotion of the former, which was much improved by study; but though she was enamoured of the charms of poetry, yet she dedicated some part of her time to the severer study of philosophy, as appears from her excellent essays, which discover an uncommon degree of piety, and knowledge, and a noble contempt of those vanities which the unthinking part of her sex so much regard, and so eagerly pursue.

The works which this lady produced, are,

The Ladies Defence, or the Bride-Woman's Counsellor answered, a Poem; in a Dialogue between Sir John Brute, Sir William Loveall, Melissa, and a Parson. This piece has been several times printed; the writing it was occasioned by an angry sermon preached against the fair sex, of which her ladyship gives the following account; 'Mr. Lintot, says she, some time since, intending to reprint my poems, desired me to permit him to add to them a Dialogue I had written in the year 1700, on a Sermon preached by Mr. Sprint, a Nonconformist, at Sherbourne in Dorsetshire; I refusing, for several reasons, to grant his request, he, without my knowledge, bought the copy of the Bookseller who formerly printed it, and, without my consent, or once acquainting me with his resolution, added to it the second edition of my poems; and that which makes the injury the greater, is, his having omitted the Epistle Dedicatory, and the Preface, by which means he has left the reader wholly in the dark, and exposed me to censure. When it was first printed I had reason to complain, but not so much as now: Then the Dedication was left entire as I had written it, but the Preface so mangled, altered, and considerably shortened, that I hardly knew it to be my own; but being then published without a name, I was the less concerned, but since, notwithstanding the great care I took to conceal it, it is known to be mine; I think myself obliged, in my own defence, to take some notice of it[1].' The omission of this Preface, which contained an answer to part of the sermon, and gave her reasons for writing the poem, had occasioned some people to make ill-natured reflexions on it: this put her ladyship on justifying herself, and assuring her readers, that there are no reflexions in it levelled at any particular persons, besides the author of the Sermon; him (says she) I only blame for being too angry, for his not telling us our duty in a softer more engaging way: address, and good manners render reproofs a kindness; but where they are wanting, admonitions are always taken ill: as truths of this sort ought never to be concealed from us, so they ought never to be told us with an indecent warmth; a respectful tenderness would be more becoming a messenger of peace, the disciple of an humble, patient, meek, commiserating Saviour.'

Besides this lady's poems, of which we shall give some account when we quote a specimen; she wrote Essays upon several subjects, in prose and verse, printed in 8vo. 1710. These Essays are upon Knowledge, Pride, Humility, Life, Death, Fear, Grief, Riches, Self-love, Justice, Anger, Calumny, Friendship, Love, Avarice, Solitude, and are much admired for the delicacy of the stile, there being not the least appearance of false wit, or affected expression, the too common blemishes of this sort of writing: they are not so much the excursions of a lively imagination, which can often expatiate on the passions, and actions of men, with small experience of either, as the deliberate result of observations on the world, improved with reading, regulated with judgment, softened by good manners, and heightened with sublime thoughts, and elevated piety. This treatise is dedicated to her Royal Highness the Princess Sophia, Electress, and Duchess Dowager of Brunswick, on which occasion that Princess, then in her 80th year, honoured her with the following epistle, written by the Electress in French, but which we shall here present to the reader in English.

Hanover June 25, 1710.

LADY CHUDLEIGH,

You have done me a very great pleasure in letting me know by your agreeable book, that there is such a one as you in England, and who has so well improved herself, that she can, in a fine manner, communicate her sentiments to all the world. As for me I do not pretend to deserve the commendations you give me, but by the esteem which I have of your merit, and of your good sense, I will be always entirely

Your affectionate friend

to serve you,

SOPHIA ELECTRICE.

At the end of the second volume of the duke of Wharton's poems, are five letters from lady Chudleigh, to the revd. Mr. Norris of Bemmerton, and Mrs. Eliz. Thomas, the celebrated Corinna of Dryden.

She wrote several other things, which, though not printed, are carefully preserved in the family, viz. two Tragedies, two Operas, a Masque, some of Lucian's Dialogues, translated into Verse, Satirical Reflexions on Saqualio, in imitation of one of Lucian's Dialogues, with several small Poems on various Occasions.

She had long laboured under the pains of a rheumatism, which had confined her to her chamber a considerable time before her death, which happened at Ashton in Devonshire, December 15, 1710, in the 55th year of her age, and lies buried there without either monument or inscription.

The poetical Works of this Lady consist chiefly in the Song of the Three Children Paraphrased, some Pindaric Odes, Familiar Epistles, and Songs. We shall select as a specimen, a Dialogue between Lucinda and Marissa, occasioned by the death of her Ladyship's Daughter, in the early bloom of her youth. It is of a very melancholy cast, and expressive of the grief me must have felt upon that tender occasion. Her ladyship has informed us in her preface to her poems, that she generally chose subjects suited to her present temper of mind. 'These pieces (says she) were the employments of my leisure hours, the innocent amusements of a solitary life; in them the reader will find a picture of my mind, my sentiments all laid open to their view; they will sometimes see me chearful, pleased, sedate, and quiet; at other times, grieving, complaining, and struggling with my passions, blaming myself, endeavouring to pay homage to my reason, and resolving for the future with a decent calmness, an unshaken constancy, and a resigning temper, to support all the troubles, all the uneasiness of life, and then, by unexpected emergencies, unforeseen disappointments, sudden, and surprising turns of fortune, discomposed, and shock'd, 'till I have rallied my scattered fears, got new strength, and by making unwearied resistance, gained the better of my afflictions, and restored my mind to its former tranquility. Would we (continues her ladyship) contract our desires, and learn to think that only necessary, which nature has made so; we should be no longer fond of riches, honours, applauses, and several other things, which are the unhappy occasions of much mischief to the world; and doubtless, were we so happy as to have a true notion of the dignity of our nature, of those great things for which we were designed, and of the duration and felicity of that state to which we are hastening, we should scorn to stoop to mean actions, and blush at the thoughts of doing any thing below our character.' In this manner does our authoress discover her sentiments of piety. We now shall subjoin the specimen;

DIALOGUE.

MARISSA.

O my Lucinda! O my dearest friend!
Must my afflictions never, never end!
Has Heav'n for me, no pity left in store,
Must I! O must I ne'er be happy more!
Philanda's loss had almost broke my heart,
From her alas! I did but lately part:
And must there still be new occasions found
To try my patience, and my soul to wound?
Must my lov'd daughter too be snatch'd away,
Must she so soon the call of fate obey?
In her first dawn, replete with youthful charms,
She's fled, she's fled, from my deserted arms.
Long did she struggle, long the war maintain,
But all th' efforts of life, alas! were vain.
Could art have saved her, she had still been
mine,
Both art and care together did combine:
But what is proof against the will divine?
Methinks I still her dying conflict view,
And the sad sight does all my grief renew;
Rack'd by convulsive pains, she meekly lies,
And gazes on me with imploring eyes;
With eyes which beg relief, but all in vain,
I see but cannot, cannot ease her pain.
She must the burden unassisted bear,
I cannot with her in her tortures share:
Would they were mine, and me flood easy by;
For what one loves, sure 'twere not hard to die.
See how me labours, how me pants for breath,
She's lovely still, she's sweet, she's sweet in
death!
Pale as she is, me beauteous does remain,
Her closing eyes their lustre still retain:
Like setting suns with undiminish'd light,
They hide themselves within the verge of night.
She's gone, she's gone, she sigh'd her soul away!
And can I, can I any longer stay?
My life alas has ever tiresome been,
And I few happy easy days have seen;
But now it does a greater burden grow,
I'll throw it off, and no more sorrow know,
But with her to calm peaceful regions go.
Stay, thou dear innocence, retard thy flight,
O stop thy journey to the realms of light;
Stay 'till I come: to thee I'll swiftly move,
Attracted by the strongest passion, love.

LUCINDA.

No more, no more let me such language hear,
I can't, I can't the piercing accents bear:
Each word you utter stabs me to the heart,
I could from life, not from Marissa part:
And were your tenderness as great as mine,
While I were left, you would net thus repine.
My friends are riches, health, and all to me;
And while they're mine I cannot wretched be.

MARISSA.

If I on you could happiness bestow,
I still the toils of life would undergo,
Would still contentedly my lot sustain,
And never more of my hard fate complain:
But since my life to you will useless prove,
O let me hasten to the joys above:
Farewel, farewel, take, take my last adieu,
May Heaven be more propitious still to you,
May you live happy when I'm in my grave,
And no misfortunes, no afflictions have:
If to sad objects you'll some pity lend
And give a sigh to an unhappy friend,
Think of Marissa, and her wretched state,
How's she's been us'd by her malicious fate;
Recount those storms which she has long sustain'd,
And then rejoice that she the part has gain'd;
The welcome haven of eternal rest,
Where she shall be for ever, ever bless'd;
And in her mother's, and her daughter's arms
Shall meet with new, with unexperienc'd charms,
O how I long those dear delights to taste;
Farewel, farewel, my soul is much in haste.
Come death; and give the kind releasing blow,
I'm tir'd of life, and overcharg'd with woe:
In thy cool silent, unmolested shade
O let me be by their dear relics laid;
And there with them from all my troubles free,
Enjoy the blessing of a long tranquillity.

LUCINDA.

O thou dear sufferer, on my breast recline
Thy drooping head, and mix thy tears with
mine:
Here rest awhile, and make a truce with grief:
Consider; sorrow brings you no relief.
In the great play of life, we must not chuse,
Nor yet the meanest character refuse.
Like soldiers we our general must obey,
Must stand our ground, and not to fear give
way,
But go undaunted on'till we have won the day.
Honour is ever the reward of pain,
A lazy virtue no applause will gain.
All such as to uncommon heights would rise,
And on the wings of fame ascend the skies,
Must learn the gifts of fortune to despise;
They to themselves their bliss must still confine,
Must be unmoved, and never once repine:
But few to this perfection can attain,
Our passions often will th' ascendant gain,
And reason but alternately does reign;
Disguised by pride we sometimes seem to bear
A haughty port, and scorn to shed a tear;
While grief within still acts a tragic part,
And plays the tyrant in the bleeding heart.
Your sorrow is of the severest kind,
And can't be wholly to your soul confin'd,
Losses like yours may be allowed to move
A gen'rous mind, that knows what 'tis to love.
These afflictions;—
Will teach you patience, and the careful skill
To rule your passions, and command your will;
To bear afflictions with a steady mind,
Still to be easy, pleas'd, and still resign'd,
And look as if you did no inward sorrow find.

MARISSA.

I know Lucinda this I ought to do,
But oh! 'tis hard my frailties to subdue;
My headstrong passions will resistance make,
And all my firmed resolutions make.
I for my daughter's death did long prepare,
And hop'd I should the stroke with temper bear,
But when it came grief quickly did prevail,
And I soon found my boasted courage fail:
Yet still I strove, but 'twas alas! in vain,
My sorrow did at length th' ascendant gain:
But I'm resolv'd I will no longer yield;
By reason led, I'll once more take the field,
And there from my insulting passions try,
To gain a full, a glorious victory:
Which 'till I've done, I never will give o'er
But still fight on, and think of peace no more;
With an unwearied courage still contend,
'Till death, or conquest, doth my labour end.

[Footnote 1: Preface to her Essays.]

* * * * *

THOMAS CREECH.

This gentleman was born near Sherborne in Dorsetshire, and bred up at the free school in that town, under Mr. Carganven, a man of eminent character, to whom in gratitude he inscribes one of the Idylliums of Theocritus, translated by him. His parents circumstances not being sufficient to bestow a liberal education upon him, colonel Strangeways, who was himself a man of taste and literature, took notice of the early capacity of Creech, and being willing to indulge his violent propensity to learning, placed him at Wadham College in Oxford, in the 16th year of his age, anno 1675, being then put under the tuition of two of the fellows. In the year 1683 he was admitted matter of arts, and soon elected fellow of All-soul's College; at which time he gave distinguished proofs of his classical learning, and philosophy, before those who were appointed his examiners. The first work which brought our author into reputation, was his translation of Lucretius, which succeeded so well, that Mr. Creech had a party formed for him, who ventured to prefer him to Mr. Dryden, in point of genius. Mr. Dryden himself highly commended his Lucretius, and in his preface to the second volume of Poetical Miscellanies thus characterises it. 'I now call to mind what I owe to the ingenious, and learned translator of Lucretius. I have not here designed to rob him of any part of that commendation, which he has so justly acquired by the whole author, whose fragments only fall to my portion. The ways of our translation are very different; he follows him more closely than I have done, which became an interpreter to the whole poem. I take more liberty, because it best suited with my design, which was to make him as pleasing as I could. He had been too voluminous, had he used my method, in so long a work; and I had certainly taken his, had I made it my business to translate the whole. The preference then is justly his; and I join with Mr. Evelyn in the confession of it, with this additional advantage to him, that his reputation is already established in this poet; mine is to make its fortune in the world. If I have been any where obscure in following our common author; or if Lucretius himself is to be condemned, I refer myself to his excellent annotations, which I have often read, and always with some pleasure.'

Many poets of the first class, of those times, addressed Mr. Creech in commendatory verses, which are prefixed to the translation of Lucretius: but this sudden blaze of reputation was soon obscured, by his failing in an arduous task, which the success of his Lucretius prompted him to attempt. This was a translation of the works of Horace, an author more diversified, and consequently more difficult than Lucretius. Some have insinuated, that Mr. Dryden, jealous of his rising fame, and willing to take advantage of his vanity, in order to sink his reputation, strenuously urged him to this undertaking, in which he was morally certain Creech could not succeed. Horace is so, various, so exquisite, and perfectly delightful, that he who culls flowers in a garden so replenished with nature's productions, must be well acquainted with her form, and able to delineate her beauties. In this attempt Creech failed, and a shade was thrown over his reputation, which continued to obscure it to the end of his life. It is from this circumstance alleged, that Mr. Creech contracted a melancholy, and moroseness of temper, which occasioned the disinclination of many towards him, and threw him into habits of recluseness, and discontent. To this some writers likewise impute the rash attempt on his own life, which he perpetrated at Oxford, in 1701. This act of suicide could not be occasioned by want, for Mr. Jacob tells us, that just before that accident, he had been presented by the college to the living of Welling in Hertfordshire. Mr. Barnard in his Nouvelles de la Republiques de Lettres, assigns another cause besides the diminution of his fame, which might occasion this disastrous fate. Mr. Creech, though a melancholy man, was yet subject to the passion of love. It happened that he fixed his affections on a lady who had either previously engaged hers, or who could not bestow them upon him; this disappointment, which was a wound to his pride, so affected his mind, that, unable any longer to support a load of misery, he hanged himself in his own chamber. Which ever of these causes induced him, the event was melancholy, and not a little heightened by his being a clergyman, in whose heart religion should have taken deeper root, and maintained a more salutary influence, than to suffer him thus to stain his laurels with his own blood.

Mr. Creech's works, besides his Lucretius already mentioned, are chiefly these,

The Second Elegy of Ovid's First Book of Elegies. The 6th, 7th, 8th, and 12th Elegies of Ovid's Second Book of Elegies. The 2d and 3d Eclogue of Virgil. The Story of Lucretia, from Ovid de Fastis. B. ii. The Odes, Satires, and Epistles of Horace already mentioned, dedicated to John Dryden, esq; who is said to have held it in great contempt, which gave such a shock to Mr. Creech's pride. The author in his preface to this translation has informed us, that he had not an ear capable of distinguishing one note in music, which, were there no other, was a sufficient objection against his attempting the most musical poet in any language.

The same year he published his Translation of the Idylliums of
Theocritus, with Rapin's Discourse on Pastorals, as also the Life of
Phelopidas, from the Latin of Cornelius Nepos.

In Dryden's Translation of Juvenal and Persius, Mr. Creech did the 13th Satire of Juvenal, and subjoined Notes. He also translated into English, the verses before Mr. Quintenay's Compleat Gardiner. The Life of Solon, from the Greek of Plutarch. Laconic Apophthegms, or Remarkable Sayings of the Spartans, printed in the first Volume of Plutarch's Morals. A Discourse concerning Socrates's Dæmon. The two First Books of the Symposiacs.

These are the works of Mr. Creech: A man of such parts and learning, according to the accounts of all who have written of him, that, had he not by the last act of his life effaced the merit of his labours, he would have been an ornament as well to the clerical profession, as his country in general. He well understood the ancients, had an unusual penetration in discovering their beauties, and it appears by his own translation of Lucretius, how elegantly he could cloath them in an English attire. His judgment was solid; he was perfectly acquainted with the rules of criticism, and he had from nature an extraordinary genius. However, he certainly over-rated his importance, or at lead his friends deceived him, when they set him up as a rival to Dryden! but if he was inferior to that great man in judgment, and genius, there were few of the same age to whom he needed yield the palm. Had he been content to be reckoned only the second, instead of the first genius of the times, he might have lived happy, and died regreted and reverenced, but like Cæsar of old, who would rather be the lord of a little village, than the second man in Rome, his own ambition overwhelmed him.

We shall present the reader with a few lines from the second Book of Lucretius, as a specimen of our author's versification, by which it will be found how much he fell short of Dryden in point of harmony, though he seems to have been equal to any other poet, who preceded Dryden, in that particular.

'Tis pleasant, when the seas are rough, to stand,
And view another's danger, safe at land:
Not 'cause he's troubled, but 'tis sweet to see
Those cares and fears, from which our selves are free.
'Tis also pleasant to behold from far
How troops engage, secure ourselves from war.
But above all, 'tis pleasantest to get
The top of high philosophy, and sit
On the calm, peaceful, flourishing head of it:
Whence we may view, deep, wondrous deep below,
How poor mistaken mortals wand'ring go,
Seeking the path to happiness: some aim
At learning, wit, nobility, or fame:
Others with cares and dangers vex each hour
To reach the top of wealth, and sov'reign pow'r:
Blind wretched man! in what dark paths of strife
We walk this little journey of our life!
While frugal nature seeks for only ease;
A body free from pains, free from disease;
A mind from cares and jealousies at peace.
And little too is needful to maintain
The body sound in health, and free from pain:
Not delicates, but such as may supply
Contented nature's thrifty luxury:
She asks no more. What tho' no boys of gold
Adorn the walls, and sprightly tapers hold,
Whose beauteous rays, scatt'ring the gawdy light,
Might grace the feast, and revels of the night:
What tho' no gold adorns; no music's sound
With double sweetness from the roofs rebound;
Yet underneath a loving myrtle's shade,
Hard by a purling stream supinely laid,
When spring with fragrant flow'rs the earth has spread,
And sweetest roses grow around our head;
Envy'd by wealth and pow'r, with small expence
We may enjoy the sweet delights of sense.
Who ever heard a fever tamer grown
In cloaths embroider'd o'er, and beds of down.
Than in coarse rags?
Since then such toys as these
Contribute nothing to the body's ease,
As honour, wealth, and nobleness of blood,
'Tis plain they likewise do the mind no good:
If when thy fierce embattell'd troops at land
Mock-fights maintain; or when thy navies Hand
In graceful ranks, or sweep the yielding seas,
If then before such martial fights as these,
Disperse not all black jealousies and cares,
Vain dread of death, and superstitious fears
Not leave thy mind; but if all this be vain,
If the same cares, and dread, and fears remain,
If Traytor-like they seize thee on the throne,
And dance within the circle of a crown;
If noise of arms, nor darts can make them fly,
Nor the gay sparklings of the purple dye.
If they on emperors will rudely seize,
What makes us value all such things as these,
But folly, and dark ignorance of happiness?
For we, as boys at night, by day do fear
Shadows as vain, and senseless as those are.
Wherefore that darkness, which o'erspreads our fouls,
Day can't disperse; but those eternal rules,
Which from firm premises true reason draws,
And a deep insight into nature's laws.

* * * * *

ARTHUR MAYNWARING, Esq;

A Gentleman distinguished both for poetry and politics, as well as the gay accomplishments of life. He was born at Ightfield, in the year 1668, and educated at the grammar-school at Shrewsbury, where he remained four or five years; and at about seventeen years of age, was removed to Christ's Church in Oxford, under the tuition of Mr. George Smalridge, afterwards bishop of Bristol. After he removed from Oxford, he went into Cheshire, where he lived several years with his uncle, Mr. Francis Cholmondley, a gentleman of great integrity and honour; but by a political prejudice, very averse to the government of William the IIId, to whom he refused to take the oaths, and instilled anti-revolution principles into his nephew,[1] who embraced them warmly; and on his first entry into life, reduced to practice what he held in speculation. He wrote several pieces in favour of James the IId's party: amongst which was a Panegyric on that King. He wrote another intitled the King of Hearts, to ridicule lord Delamere's entry into London, at his first coming to town after the revolution. This poem was said to be Dryden's, who was charged with it by Mr. Tonson; but he disowned it, and told him it was written by an ingenious young gentleman, named Maynwaring, then about twenty two years of age.

When our author was introduced to the acquaintance of the duke of Somerset, and the earls of Dorset, and Burlington, he began to entertain (says Oldmixon) very different notions of politics: Whether from the force of the arguments made use of by those noblemen; or, from a desire of preferment, which he plainly saw lay now upon the revolution interest, cannot be determined; but he espoused the Whig ministry, as zealously as he had formerly struggled for the exiled monarch.

Our author studied the law till he was five or six and twenty years old, about which time his father died, and left him an estate of near eight-hundred pounds a year, but so incumbred, that the interest money amounted to almost as much as the revenue. Upon the conclusion of the peace of Ryswick, he went to Paris, where he became acquainted with Monsieur Boileau, who invited him to his country house, entertained him very elegantly, and spoke much to him of the English poetry, but all by way of enquiry; for he affected to be as ignorant of the English Muse, as if our nation had been as barbarous as the Laplanders.

A gentleman, a friend of Mr. Maynwaring, visiting him some time after, upon the death of Mr. Dryden 'Boileau, said that he was wonderfully pleased to see by the public papers, that the English nation had paid so extraordinary honours to one of their poets, burying him at the public charge;' and then asked the gentleman who that poet was, with as much indifference as if he had never heard Dryden's name; which he could no more be unacquainted with, than our country was with his; for he often frequented lord Montague's house, when he was embassador in France, and being also an intimate friend of Monsieur De la Fontaine, who had spent some time in England, it was therefore impossible he could be ignorant of the fame of Dryden; but it is peculiar to that nation to hold all others in contempt. The French would as fain monopolize wit, as the wealth and power of Europe; but thanks to the arms and genius of Britain, they have attempted both the one and the other without success.

Boileau's pretending not to know Dryden, to use the words of Milton, 'argued himself unknown.' But perhaps a reason may be assigned, why the wits of France affected a contempt for Mr. Dryden, which is this. That poet, in many of his Prefaces and Dedications, has unanswerably shewn, that the French writers are really deficient in point of genius;' that the correctness for which they are remarkable, and that even pace which they maintain in all their dramatic compositions, is a proof that they are not capable of sublime conceptions; that they never rise to any degree of elevation, and are in truth uninspired by the muses:—Judgment they may have to plan and conduct their designs; but few French poets have ever found the way of writing to the heart. Have they attained the sublime height of Shakespear, the tenderness of Otway, or the pomp of Rowe? and yet these are names which a French versifier will pretend, with an air of contempt, never to have heard of.

The truth is, our poets have lately done the French too much honour, by translating their pieces, and bringing them on the stage; as if our own stock was exhausted and the British genius had failed: But it is some satisfaction that these attempts seem now to be discouraged; we have seen a late play of theirs (we call it a play, for it was neither a tragedy nor a comedy) translated by a languid poet of our own, received with the coolness it deserved.

But to return to Mr. Maynwaring. Upon his arrival in England, from France, he was made one of the commissioners of the customs, in which post he distinguished himself by his skill and fidelity. Of the latter of these qualities we have an instance, in his treatment of a man, who sollicited to be a tide-waiter: Somebody had told him that his best way to succeed would be to make a present. The advice had been perhaps good enough if he had not mistaken his man. For understanding that Mr. Maynwaring had the best interest at the board of any of the commissioners, with the lords of the treasury; he sent him a letter, with a purse of fifty-guineas, desiring his favour towards obtaining the place he sollicited: Afterwards he delivered a petition to the board, which was read, and several of the commissioners having spoke to it, Mr. Maynwaring took out the purse of fifty guineas, and the letter, telling them that as long as he could prevent it, that man should never have this, or any other place in the revenue[2].

Mr. Maynwaring was admitted a member of the Kit-Kat Club, and was considered as one of the chief ornaments of it, by his pleasantry and wit.

In the beginning of queen Anne's reign, lord treasurer Godolphin, engaged Mr. Donne, to quit the office of auditor of the imprests, his lordship paying him several thousand pounds for his doing it, and he never let Mr. Maynwaring know what he was doing for him, till he made him a present of a patent for that office, worth about two-thousand pounds a year in time of business. In the Parliament which met in 1705, our author was chosen a burgess for Preston in Lancashire[3].

He had a considerable share in the Medley, and was author of several other pieces, of which we shall presently give some account.

He died at St. Albans, November the 13th, 1712, having some time before made his will; in which he left Mrs. Oldfield, the celebrated actress his executrix, by whom he had a son, named Arthur Maynwaring. He divided his estate pretty equally between that child, Mrs. Oldfield, and his sister; Mr. Oldmixon tells us, that Mr. Maynwaring loved this actress, for nine or ten years before his death, with the strongest passion: It was in some measure owing to his instructions that she became so finished a player; for he understood the action of the stage as well as any man, and took great pleasure to see her excell in it. He wrote several Prologues and Epilogues for her, and would always hear her rehearse them in private, before she spoke them on the stage. His friends of both sexes quarrelled with him for his attachment to her, and so much resented it, that Mrs. Oldfield frequently remonstrated to him, that it was for his honour and interest to break off the intrigue: which frankness and friendship of hers, did, as he often confessed, but engage him the more firmly; and all his friends at last gave over importuning him to leave her, as she gained more and more upon him.

In honour of our author, Mr. Oldmixon observes, that he had an abhorrence of those that swore, or talked profanely in conversation. He looked upon it as a poor pretence to wit, and never excused it in himself or others.—I have already observed, that our author had a share in the Medley, a paper then set up in favour of the Hanoverian succession, in which he combats the Examiner, who wrote on the opposite, or, at least, the High-Church Interest.

He also wrote the following pieces.

1. Remarks on a late Romance, intitled the Memorial of the Church of England, or the History of the Ten Champions.

2. A Translation of the second Ode, of the first book of Horace.

3. A Translation of the fifth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

4. A Character of the new Ministers, 1710.

5. Several Songs, Poems, Prologues and Epilogues.

6. There was a Manuscript given him to peruse, which contained Memoirs of the duke of Marlborough's famous march to Blenheim: It was written by a chaplain of the duke's, with great exactness as to the incidents, but was defective in form. Mr. Maynwaring was desired to alter and improve it, which he found too difficult a task; but being greatly pleased with the particular account of all that pass'd in that surprizing march, he resolved that it should not be lost, and to give it a new and more perfect form himself, by reducing a kind of diary into a regular history. These papers fell into the hands of Sir Richard Steel.

7. A Translation of part of Tully's Offices.

8. Four Letters to a Friend in North-Britain, written upon the publishing Dr. Sacheveral's Trial.

9. The History of Hannibal, and Hanno, from the best authors: In this piece he is supposed to intend by Hannibal, the duke of Marlborough; by Hanno, the lord treasurer Oxford, by Valerius Flaccus, count Tallard, and by Asdrubal, Dr. Robinson, bishop of Bristol.

10. The Speech of Alcibiades to the Athenians, printed in the Whig-Examiner, Numb. 3.

11. The French King's Promise to the Pretender.

12. A Short Account, and Defence of the Barrier Treaty.

13. Remarks upon the present Negotiation of Peace, begun between Great-Britain and France.

14. The Bewdley Cafe.

15. He had a considerable hand in a Letter to a High-Churchman.

16. He revived and published a treatise called Bouchain, in a Dialogue between the Medley and the Examiner, about the management of the war in 1711.

17. He wrote a Letter to the Free-holders, a little before the election of the new Parliament.

18. He had a great hand in a pamphlet, entitled the British Academy, wherein he rallied Dr. Swift's Letter to the lord treasurer Oxford, about altering the English language.

19. The Letter from Doway, was written by him, or some friend of his, with his assistance.

These are chiefly the works of Maynwaring, who was a gentleman of genius, and appears to have been a good-natur'd honest man. His moral life has only been blamed for his intrigue with Mrs. Oldfield; but I am persuaded when the accomplishments of that lady are remembered, (so bright) is employed in the composition of one book, a bookseller may publish twenty; so that in the very nature of things, a bookseller without oppression, a crime which by unsuccessful writers is generally imputed to them, may grow rich, while the most industrious and able author can arrive at no more than a decent competence: and even to that, many a great genius has never attained.

No sooner had Mr. Head a little recovered himself, than we find him cheated again by the syren alurements of pleasure and poetry, in the latter of which, however, it does not appear he made any proficiency. He failed a second time, in the world, and having recourse to his pen, wrote the first part of the English Rogue, which being too libertine, could not be licensed till he had expunged some of the most luscious descriptions out of it.

Mr. Winstanley, p. 208, has informed us, that at the coming out of this first part, he was with him at the Three Cup tavern in Holborn drinking a glass of Rhenish, and made these verses upon him,

What Gusman, Buscan, Francion, Rablais writ,
I once applauded for most excellent wit;
But reading thee, and thy rich fancy's store,
I now condemn, what I admir'd before.
Henceforth translations pack away, be gone,
No Rogue so well writ, as the English one.

We cannot help observing, that Winstanley has a little ridiculously shewn his vanity, by informing the world, that he could afford to drink a glass of Rhenish; and has added nothing to his reputation by the verses, which have neither poetry nor wit in them.

[Footnote 1: Oldmixon's Life of Maynwaring.]

[Footnote 2: Life, p. xviii. xix.]

[Footnote 3: Ibid. p. xxii.]

* * * * *

The HON. Mrs. MONK.

This Lady was the daughter of the Right Hon. the Lord Molesworth, a nobleman of Ireland, and wife of George Monk, Esq; By the force of her natural genius, she learnt the Latin, Italian, and Spanish tongues, and by a constant reading of the best authors in those languages, became so great a proficient, especially in poetry, that she wrote many pieces that were deemed worthy of publication, and soon after her death, were printed and published with the following title, Marinda. Poems, and Translations upon several occasions, printed in London, 1716. The book is addressed to her Royal Highness Carolina Princess of Wales, in a long dedication, dated March 26, 1716, written by her father, who thus affectionately speaks of the poems and their author.

'Most of them (says he) are the product of the leisure hours of a young gentlewoman lately deceased; who in a remote country retirement, without omitting the daily care due to a large family, not only perfectly acquired the several languages here made use of; but the good morals and principles contained in those books, so as to put them in practice, as well during her life and languishing sickness, as the hour of her death; in short she died not only like a Christian, but a Roman lady, and so became at once the object of the grief, and comfort of her relations. As much as I am obliged to be sparing in commending what belongs to me, I cannot forbear thinking some of these circumstances uncommon enough to be taken notice of: I loved her more, because she deserved it, than because she was mine, and I cannot do greater honour to her memory, than by consecrating her labours, or rather diversion to your Royal Highness, as we found most of them in her escrutore, after her death, written with her own hand, little expecting, and as little desiring the public should have any opportunity, either of applauding or condemning them.'

Mr. Jacob tells us, that these Poems and Translations, shew the true spirit, and numbers of poetry, a delicacy of turn, and justness of thought and expression. They consist of Ecclogues; the Masque of the Virtues against Love, from Guarini; some translations from the French and Italians; Familiar Epistles, Odes and Madrigals.

Her poetry has great warmth, and tenderness of sentiment. The following
Epitaph on a lady of pleasure, was written by her,

O'er this marble drop a tear,
Here lies fair Rosalinde,
All mankind was pleas'd with her,
And she with all mankind.

And likewise this Epigram upon another lady of the same character.

Chloe, her gossips entertains,
With stories of her child-bed pains,
And fiercely against Hymen rails:
But Hymen's not so much to blame;
She knows, unless her memory fails,
E'er she was wed, 'twas much the same.

The following verses, which breathe a true spirit of tenderness, were written by her, on her death-bed at Bath, when her husband was in London,

Thou, who dost all my worldly thoughts employ,
Thou pleasing source of all my earthly joy:
Thou tenderest husband, and thou best of friends,
To thee, this first, this last adieu I send.
At length the conqueror death asserts his right,
And will forever veil me from thy sight.
He wooes me to him, with a chearful grace;
And not one terror clouds his meagre face.
He promises a lasting rest from pain;
And shews that all life's fleeting joys are vain.
Th' eternal scenes of Heaven he sets in view,
And tells me, that no other joys are true.
But love, fond love, would yet resist his power;
Would fain a-while defer the parting hour:
He brings the mourning image to my eyes,
And would obstruct my journey to the skies.
But say thou dearest, thou unwearied friend;
Say should'st thou grieve to see my sorrows end?
Thou know'st a painful pilgrimage I have past,
And should'st thou grieve, that rest is come at last;
Rather rejoice to see me shake off life,
And die as I have liv'd, thy faithful wife.

* * * * *

Mr. THOMAS BROWN.

This humorous poet was the son of a considerable Farmer of Shiffnall, in Shropshire, and educated at Newport-school in that county, under the reverend and learned Dr. Edwards, a gentleman who had the honour to qualify many persons of distinction for the university. Under the tuition of this master, he attained a knowledge of the Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and Spanish languages, and his exercises were generally so well performed, that the Dr. was filled with admiration of his parts. From Newport school he removed to Christ's-Church College in Oxford, and distinguished himself there for his easy attainments in literature; but some little irregularities of his life would not suffer him to continue long at the university. It is probable he became sick of that discipline, which they who spend their life in the recluseness of a college, are in some measure obliged to submit to. The father of Mr. Brown, who intended to have him educated to some profession, was not made acquainted with his design of quitting the university, and having remitted him a sum of money, to be appropriated for the promotion of his studies, his son thought proper to defeat his kind intentions. With this money, our author plann'd a scheme of going to London, which he soon after executed, not very advantageously.—'My first business, says he, was to apply myself to those few friends I had there, who conjecturing I had left the university, exclusive of my father's knowledge, gave but slender encouragement to a young beginner. However, no whit daunted (my first resolution still standing by me) I launched forth into the world, committing myself to the mercy of fortune, and the uncertain temper of the town. I soon acquired a new set of acquaintance; and began to have a relish of what I had only tasted before by hearsay; and indeed, every thing served to convince me, I had changed for the better, except that my slender subsistance began to waste extremely; and ruminating upon the difficulty of obtaining a supply, I was then laid under the necessity of thinking what course to steer. I knew how justly I had incurred the displeasure of an indulgent father, and how far I had put myself from retrieving his favour. Amidst this serious contemplation! I resolved to go through stitch with my enterprize, let what will come on't: However, that I might use discretion, to palliate an unforeseen event, I determined 'twere better to trust to the flexibility of a father's temper, than to lay too great a stress upon the humanity of fortune, who would let a man of morals starve if he depended on her favours. Therefore, without more ado (having taken my sorrowful leave of my last guinea, and reduced Carolus Secundus, from a whole number, to decimal fractions) I dispatched a letter into the country, full of excuse, and penitence, baited with all the submissive eloquence imaginable. In the mean time, I was no less sedulous to find out some employment, that might suit with my genius, and with my dependencies at home, render my life easy.'

Whether his father was touched by the epistle which our author in consequence of this resolution wrote to him, we cannot ascertain, as there is no mention made of it. Soon after this, we find him school master of Kingston upon Thames, and happy for him, had he continued in that more certain employment, and not have so soon exchanged it for beggary and reputation. Mr. Brown, impatient of a recluse life, quitted the school, and came again to London; and as he found his old companions more delighted with his wit, than ready to relieve his necessities, he had recourse to scribbling for bread, which he performed with various success. Dr. Drake, who has written a defence of our author's character, prefixed to his works, informs us, that the first piece which brought him into reputation, was an account of the conversion of Mr. Bays, in a Dialogue, which met with a reception suitable to the wit, spirit, and learning of it. But though this raised his fame, yet it added very little to his profit: For, though it made his company exceedingly coveted, and might have recommended him to the great, as well as to the ingenious, yet he was of a temper not to chuse his acquaintance by interest, and slighted such an opportunity of recommending himself to the powerful and opulent, as, if wisely improved, might have procured him dignities and preferments. The stile of this dialogue, was like that of his ordinary conversation, lively and facetious. It discovered no small erudition, but managed with a great deal of humour, in a burlesque way; which make both the reasoning and the extensive reading, which are abundantly shewn in it, extremely surprizing and agreeable. The same manner and humour runs through all his writings, whether Dialogues, Letters, or Poems.

The only considerable objection, which the critics have made to his works is, that they want delicacy. But in answer to this, it may be affirmed, that there is as much refinement in his works, as the nature of humorous satire, which is the chief beauty of his compositions, will admit; for, as satire requires strong ideas, the language will sometimes be less polished. But the delicacy so much demanded, by softening the colours weakens the drawing. Mr. Brown has been charged with inequality in his writings: which is inseparable from humanity.

Our author's letters, though written carelesly to private friends, bear the true stamp and image of a genius. The variety of his learning may be seen in the Lacedaemonian Mercury, where abundance of critical questions of great nicety, are answered with much solidity and judgment, as well as wit, and humour. But that design exposing him too much to the scruples of the grave and reserved, as well as to the censure, and curiosity of the impertinent, he soon discontinued it. Besides, as this was a periodical work, he who was totally without steadiness, was very ill qualified for such an undertaking. When the press called upon him for immediate supply, he was often found debauching himself at a tavern, and by excessive drinking unable to perform his engagements with the public, by which no doubt the work considerably suffered.

But there is yet another reason why Mr. Brown has been charged with inequality in his writings, viz. that most of the anonymous pieces which happened to please the town, were fathered upon him. This, though in reality an injury to him, is yet a proof of the universality of his reputation, when whatever pleased from an unknown hand was ascribed to him; but by these means he was reputed the writer of many things unworthy of him. In poetry he was not the author of any long piece, for he was quite unambitious of reputation of that kind. They are generally Odes, Satires, and Epigrams, and are certainly not the best part of his works. His Translations in Prose are many, and of various kinds. His stile is strong and masculine; and if he was not so nice in the choice of his authors, as might be expected from a man of his taste, he must be excused; for he performed his translations as a talk, prescribed him by the Booksellers, from whom he derived his chief support. It was the misfortune of our author to appear on the stage of the world, when fears, and jealousies had soured the tempers of men, and politics, and polemics, had almost driven mirth and good nature out of the nation: so that the careless gay humour, and negligent chearful wit, which in former days of tranquility, would have recommended him to the conversation of princes, was, in a gloomy period, lost upon a people incapable of relishing genuine humour.

An anonymous author who has given the world some account of Mr. Brown, observes, 'that it was not his immorality that hindered him from climbing to the top of poetry, and preferment; but that he had a particular way of sinning to himself. To speak in plain English (says he) Tom Brown had less the spirit of a gentleman than the rest of the Wits, and more of a Scholar. Tom thought himself as happy with a retailer of damnation in an obscure hole, as another to have gone to the devil with all the splendour of a fine equipage. 'Twas not the brightness of Caelia's eyes, nor her gaudy trappings that attracted his heart. Cupid might keep his darts to himself; Tom always carried his fire about him. If he had but a mouth, two eyes, and a nose, he never enquired after the regularity of her dress, or features. He always brought a good stomach with him, and used but little ceremony in the preface. As of his mistresses, so he was very negligent in the choice of his companions, who were sometimes mean and despicable, a circumstance which never fails to ruin a man's reputation. He was of a lazy temper, and the Booksellers who gave him credit enough as to his capacity, had no confidence to put in his diligence. The same gentleman informs us, that though Tom Brown was a good-natured man, yet he had one pernicious quality, which eternally procured him enemies, and that was, rather to lose his friend, than his joke.

One of his lampoons had almost cost him a procession at the cart's tail; nor did he either spare friend or foe, if the megrim of abuse once seized him. He had a particular genius for scandal, and dealt it out liberally when he could find occasion. He is famed for being the author of a Libel, fixed one Sunday morning on the doors of Westminster-abbey, and many others, against the clergy and quality. As for religion, Brown never professed any, and used to say, that he understood the world better than to have the imputation of righteousness laid to his charge: and the world, to be even with him, really thought him an Atheist. But though Brown never made any professions of religion, yet it proceeded more from affectation than conviction. When he came upon his death-bed, he expressed remorse for his past life, and discovered at that period, sentiments which he had never before suffered to enter his mind. This penitential behaviour, in the opinion of some, was the occasion why all his brethren neglected him, and did not bestow on his memory one elegiac song, nor any of the rites of verse. We find no encomiums upon him, but what appeared in a Grubstreet Journal, which, however, are much superior to what was usually to be found there.

——A mournful muse from Albion swains produce,
Sad as the song a gloomy genius chuse,
In artful numbers let his wit be shewn,
And as he sings of Doron's speak his own;
Such be the bard, for only such is fit,
To trace pale Doron thro' the fields of wit.

Towards the latter end of our author's life, we are informed by Mr. Jacob, that he was in favour with the earl of Dorset, who invited him to dinner on a Christmas-day, with Mr. Dryden, and some other gentlemen, celebrated for ingenuity, (according to his lordship's usual custom) when Mr. Brown, to his agreeable surprize, found a Bank Note of 50 l. under his plate, and Mr. Dryden at the same time was presented with another of 100 l. Acts of munificence of this kind were very common with that generous spirited nobleman.

Mr. Brown died in the year 1704, and was interred in the Cloyster of Westminster-abbey, near the remains of Mrs. Behn, with whom he was intimate in his life-time. His whole works consisting of Dialogues, Essays, Declamations, Satires, Letters from the Dead to the Living, Translations, Amusements, &c. were printed in 4 vol. 12mo, 1707. In order that the reader may conceive a true idea of the spirit and humour, as well as of the character of Tom Brown, we shall here insert an Imaginary Epistle, written from the Shades to his Friends among the Living; with a copy of Verses representing the Employment of his poetical Brethren in that fancied Region.

TOM. BROWN to his Friends among the Living.

GENTLEMEN,

I bear it with no little concern to find myself so soon forgot among ye; I have paid as constant attendance to post-hours, in expectation to hear from ye, as a hungry Irish Man (at twelve) to a three-penny ordinary, or a decayed beau for nice eating to a roasting-cock's. No amorous-keeping fool, banished from his Chloris in town, to his country solitude, has waited with greater impatience for a kind epistle from her, than I for one from you. I have searched all private packets, and examined every straggling ghost that came from your parts, without being able to get the least intelligence of your affairs. This is the third since my arrival in these gloomy regions, and I can give myself no reason why I have received none in answer, unless the packet-boat has been taken by the French, or that so little time has quite excluded me from your memories. In my first I gave you an account of my journey hither, and my reception among the ingenious in these gloomy regions.

I arrived on the Banks of Acheron, and found Charon scooping his wherry, who seeing me approach him, bid me sit down a little, for he had been hard worked lately, and could not go with a single passenger: I was willing enough to embrace the proposal, being much fatigued and weary. Having finished what he was about, he cast his rueful aspect up to the clouds, and demonstrating from thence (as I suppose) it was near dinner-time, he took from out a locker or cupboard in the stern of his pinnace, some provender pinned up in a clean linnen clout, and a jack of liquor, and fell too without the least shew of ceremony, unless indeed it were to offer me the civility of partaking with him. He muttered something to himself, which might be grace as far as I know; but if it were, 'twas as short as that at an Auction-dinner, nor did he devour what was before him with less application than I have seen some there. For my part, I could not but contemplate on his shaggy locks, his wither'd sun-burnt countenance, together with the mightiness and sanctity of his beard; but above all, his brawny chopt knuckles employed my attention: In short, having satisfied the cormorant in his guts, he had time to ask me what country-man I was? to which I submissively answered, an English-man: O, says he, those English-men are merry rogues, and love mischief; I have sometimes a diverting story from thence: What news have you brought with you? truly I told his highness I came away a little dissatisfied, and had not made any remarks on the world for some time before my death; and for news I had not leisure to bring any thing of moment. But ere we had talked much more, we saw two other passengers approach us, who, by their often turning to one another, and their laying down arguments with their hands, seemed to be in warm debate together; which was as we conjectured; for when they drew nearer to us, they proved to be a termagant High-Flyer, and a puritanical Scripturian, a fiery Scotchman: Occasional Conformity was their subject; for I heard the Scot tell him 'twas all popery, downright popery, and that the inquisition in Spain was christianity to it, by retarding the sons of grace from partaking of the gifts of the Lord; he said it was the building of Babel, and they were confounded in the works of their hands by the confusion of tongues; such crys, says he, went forth before the desolation of the great city.

Thou the son of grace, says the other, thou art a son of Satan, and hast preached up iniquity; ye are the evil tares, and the land can never prosper 'till ye are rooted out from among the good corn.

Thou art an inventer of lies, said the disciple of John Calvin, and the truth is not in thee; ye are bloody minded wretches, and your fury is the only sign of your religion, as the steeple is to the church; your organs are the prophane tinkling of the cimbals of Satan, that tickle the ears with vanity.

Thus the dispute lasted till they came to us, and getting into the boat, they jostled for preeminence, which might have proved a sharp conflict, had not the old fellow took up a stretcher and parted them. After which we parted peaceably over to the other side: being-landed, the Scot and I took our way together, and left the furious churchman to vent his spleen by himself. We had not travelled long before we came to a populous village, where, from the various multitude, our eyes encountered at a distance, we might easily conjecture that something more than ordinary had gathered them together in that manner; it resembled (as near as I can describe it) that famous place called Sherrick-fair, or a Staffordshire-Wake. While we were applying our admiration that way, we arrived at a small hut erected for that purpose, where Nero the tyrant, like a blind fiddler, was surrounded by a confused tribe of all sorts and sexes, like another Orpheus among the beasts.

The various remarks I made (some dancing, some prancing; some clapping, some knapping; some drinking, some winking; some kissing, some pissing; some reeling, some stealing) urged my curiosity to enquire for what it was possible those noble sports might be ordained, and was soon satisfied it was the Anniversary Feast of their Great Lady Proserpine's birth-day. But these things that I took to be diverting, so elevated the spleen of my Puritan companion, that he began loudly to exclaim against those prophane exercises: he said, they were impure, and lifted up the mind to lewdness; that those that followed them, were the sons of Belial, and wore the mark of the beast in their foreheads. I endeavoured to pacify the sanctified brother, by putting him in mind where we were, and that his rashness might draw us into danger, being in a strange place; but all was in vain, I but stirred up his fury more; for, turning his rebukes upon me, he told me, I was myself one of the wicked, and did rejoice in my heart at the deeds of darkness: no, says he, I will not be pacified, I will roar aloud to drown their incantations; yea, I will set out a throat even as the beast that belloweth! so that perceiving the mob gather about him, I thought it prudence to steal off, and leave him to the fury of those, whose displeasure he was about to incur.

I had not gone far, but I 'spied two brawney champions at a rubbers of cuffs, which by the dexterity of their head's, hands, and heels, I judged could be no other than Englishmen: nor were my sentiments groundless, for presently I heard the mob cry out, O! rare Jo! O! rare Jo! and attentively Surveying the combatants, I found it to be the merry Jo Haynes, fallen out with Plowden the famous Lawyer, about a game at Nine-holes; and that shout had proclaimed Joe victorious. I was something scrupulous of renewing my acquaintance, not knowing how the conqueror, in the midst of his success, might use me for making bold with his character in my letters from the read; though I felt a secret desire to discover myself, yet prudence withstood my inclination, 'till a more convenient season might so that I brushed off to a place where I saw a concourse of the better sort of people; there I found Millington the famous Auctioneer, among a crowd of Lawyers, Physicians, Scholars, Poets, Critics, Booksellers, &c. exercising his old faculty; for which, gentlemen, he is as particularly famed in these parts, as Herostratus for firing the famous Temple, or Barthol Swarts, for the invention of Gunpowder. He is head journey-man to Ptolemy, who keeps a Bookseller's shop here, and rivals even Jacob Tonson in reputation among the great wits.

But most of all I was obliged to admire my friend Millington, who, by his powerful knack of eloquence, to the wonder of the whole company, sold Cave's Lives of the Fathers to Solomon the Magnificent, and the Scotch Directory to the Priests of the Sun; nay, he sold-Archbishop Laud's Life to Hugh Peters, Hob's Leviathan to Pope Boniface, and pop'd Bunyan's Works upon Bellarmine for a piece of unrevealed Divinity; After the sale was over, I took an opportunity of making myself known to him, who caressed me with all the freedom imaginable, asking me, how long I had been in these parts? and what news from the other world? and a thousand particular questions about his old friends; to all which I responded as well as I could: and having given me a caution to avoid some people, by whom I was threatened, for exposing them in my letters, we went to take a bottle together.

Now I presume, gentlemen, you will conclude it high time for me to take my leave; nor shall I tire your patience much longer, only permit me to give ye the trouble of some particular services to those honest gentlemen whose generosity gave me the reputation of a funeral above what I e'er expected, especially to Dr. S——t for bestowing the ground I never frequented, to Dr. Garth and the rest for the charge of a hearse and mourning coaches, which I could not have desired, and to Dr. D——ke for designing me a monument I know the world will reflect I never deserved; but for that, let my works testify for me. And though ye are satisfied my genius was never over-fruitful in the product of verse, yet knowing these favours require something a little uncommon to make a suitable return, I shall take my leave in metre, and, if contrary to my opinion, it meets with a kind acceptance from the town, honest Sam. may clap it in the next edition of the State Poems, with Buckingham's name to it.

When a scurvy disease had lain hold of my carcase,
And death to my chamber was mounting the stair-case.
I call'd to remembrance the sins I'd committed,
Repented, and thought I'd for Heaven been fitted;
But alas! there is still an old proverb to cross us,
I found there no room for the sons of Parnassus;
And therefore contented like others to fare,
To the shades of Elizium I strait did repair;
Where Dryden and other great wits o' the town,
To reward all their labours, are damn'd to write on.
Here Johnson may boast of his judgment and plot,
And Otway of all the applause that he got;
Loose Eth'ridge presume on his stile and his wit,
And Shadwell of all the dull plays he e'r writ;
Nat. Lee here may boast of his bombast and rapture,
And Buckingham rail to the end of the chapter;
Lewd Rochester lampoon the King and the court,
And Sidley and others may cry him up for't;
Soft Waller and Suckling, chaste Cowley and others,
With Beaumont and Fletcher, poetical brothers,
May here scribble on with pretence to the bays,
E'en Shakespear himself may produce all his plays,
And not get for whole pages one mouth full of praise.

To avoid this disaster, while Congreve reforms,
His muse and his morals fly to Bracegirdle's arms;
Let Vanbrugh no more plotless plays e'er impose,
Stuft with satire and smut to ruin the house;
Let Rowe, if he means to maintain his applause,
Write no more such lewd plays as his Penitent was.
O Satire! from errors instruct the wild bard,
Bestow thy advice to reclaim each lewd bard;
Bid the Laureat sincerely reflect on the matter;
Bid Dennis drink less, but bid him write better;
Bid Durfey cease scribbling, that libelling song-ster;
Bid Gildon and C——n be Deists no longer;
Bid B——t and C——r, those wits of the age,
Ne'er expose a dull coxcomb, but just on the stage;
Bid Farquhar (tho' bit) to his consort be just,
And Motteux in his office be true to his trust;
Bid Duffet and Cowper no longer be mad,
But Parsons and Lawyers mind each their own trade.
To Grubster and others, bold satire advance;
Bid Ayliffe talk little, and P——s talk sense;
Bid K——n leave stealing as well as the rest;
When this can be done, they may hope to be blest.

* * * * *

The Revd. Mr. JOHN POMFRET.

This Gentleman's works are held in very great esteem by the common readers of poetry; it is thought as unfashionable amongst people of inferior life, not to be possessed of the poems of Pomfret, as amongst persons of taste not to have the works of Pope in their libraries. The subjects upon which Pomfret wrote were popular, his versification is far from being unmusical, and as there is little force of thinking in his writings, they are level to the capacities of those who admire them.

Our author was son of the rev. Mr. Pomfret, rector of Luton in Bedfordshire, and he himself was preferred to the living of Malden in the same county. He was liberally educated at an eminent grammar school in the country, from whence he was sent to the university of Cambridge, but to what college is not certain. There he wrote most of his poetical pieces, took the degree of master of arts, and very early accomplished himself in most kinds of polite literature. A gentleman who writes under the name of Philalethes, and who was an intimate friend of Pomfret's, has cleared his reputation from the charge of fanaticism, which some of his malicious enemies brought against him. It was shortly after his leaving the university, that he was preferred to the living of Malden abovementioned, and was, says that gentleman, so far from being tinctured with fanaticism, that I have often heard him express his abhorrence of the destructive tenets maintained by that people, both against our religious and civil rights. This imputation it seems was cast on him by there having been one of his sur-name, though not any way related to him, a dissenting teacher, and who published some rhimes upon spiritual subjects, as he called them, and which sufficiently proved him an enthusiast.

About the year 1703 Mr. Pomfret came up to London, for institution and induction, into a very considerable living, but was retarded for some time by a disgust taken by dr. Henry Compton, then bishop of London, at these four lines, in the close of his poem entitled The Choice.

And as I near approach'd the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
While I did for a better state prepare.

The parenthesis in these verses was so maliciously represented to the bishop, that his lordship was given to understand, it could bear no other construction than that Mr. Pomfret preferred a mistress before a wife; though the words may as well admit of another meaning, and import no more, than the preference of a single life to marriage; unless the gentlemen in orders will assert, that an unmarried Clergyman cannot live without a mistress. But the bishop was soon convinced that this aspersion against him, was no more than an effort of malice, as Mr. Pomfret at that time was really married. The opposition which his enemies made to him, had, in some measure, its effect; for by the obstructions he met with, he was obliged to stay longer in London than he intended, and as the Small-pox then raged in the metropolis, he sickened them, and died in London in the 36th year of his age.

The above-mentioned friend of Mr. Pomfret, has likewise shewn the ungenerous treatment he met with in regard to his poetical compositions, in a book entitled Poems by the Earl of Roscommon, and Mr. Duke, printed 1717, in the preface to which, the publisher has peremptorily inserted the following paragraph. 'In this collection says he, of my lord Roscommon's poems, care has been taken to insert all I possibly could procure, that are truly genuine, there having been several things published under his name, which were written by others, the authors of which I could set down if it were material. Now, says the gentleman, this arrogant editor would have been more just, both to the public, and to the earl of Roscommon's memory, in telling us what things had been published under his lordship's name by others, than by concealing the authors of any such gross impositions. Instead of which, he is so much a stranger to impartiality, that he has been guilty of the very crime he exclaims against; for he has not only attributed the prospect of death to the earl of Roscommon, which was wrote by Mr. Pomfret, after the decease of that lord; but likewise another piece entitled the Prayer of Jeremy Paraphrased, prophetically representing the passionate grief of the Jewish people, for the loss of their town, and sanctuary, written by Mr. Southcot, a gentleman who published it in the year 1717, so that it is to be hoped, in a future edition of the earl of Roscommon's, and Mr. Duke's poems, the same care will be taken to do these gentlemen justice, as to prevent any other person from hereafter injuring the memory of his lordship.'

Mr. Pomfret published his poems in the year 1690, to which he has prefixed a very modest and sensible preface, 'I am not so fond of fame, says he, as to desire it from the injudicious many; nor as so mortified a temper as not to wish it from the discerning few. 'Tis not the multitude of applauders, but the good fame of the applauders, which establishes a valuable reputation.'

His poetical compositions consist chiefly of

1. The Choice, which we shall insert as a specimen.

2. Cruelty and Lust, an Epistolary Essay, founded upon the famous Story which happened in the reign of King James II. Kirk, who was that Prince's general against the duke of Monmouth. was sollicited by a beautiful lady in behalf of her husband, who then lay under sentence of death. The inhuman general consented to grant his fair petitioner her request; but at no less a price than that of her innocence. The lady doated on her husband, and maintained a hard struggle between virtue, and affection, the latter of which at last prevailed, and she yielded to his guilty embraces. The next morning Kirk, with unparalleled brutality, desired the lady to look out at the window of his bedchamber, when she was struck with the horrid sight of her husband upon a scaffold, ready to receive the blow of the executioner; and before she could reach the place where he was, in order to take a last embrace, her husband was no more.

How far the lady may be justified in this conduct, is not our business to discuss: if it is called by the name of guilt, none ever had more pressing motives; and if such a crime could admit of an excuse, it must be upon such an occasion.

3. Several Epistles to his Friends under affliction.

4. Upon the Divine Attributes.

5. A Prospect of Death.

5. Upon the General Conflagration, and the ensuing Judgment. There were two pieces of our author's, published after his death by his friend Philalethes; the first of these entitled Reason, was wrote by him in the year 1700, when the debates concerning the doctrine of the Trinity were carried on with so much heat by the Clergy one against another, that the royal authority was interposed in order to put an end to a controversy, which could never be settled, and which was pernicious in its consequences. This is a severe satire, upon one of the parties engaged in that dispute, but his not inserting it amongst his other poems when he collected them into a volume, was, on account of his having received very particular favours, from some of the persons therein mentioned. The other is entitled Dies Novissima, or the Last Epiphany, a Pindaric Ode on Christ's second Appearance to judge the World. In this piece the poet expresses much heart-felt piety: It is animated, if not with a poetical, at least with so devout a warmth, that as the Guardian has observed of Divine Poetry, 'We shall find a kind of refuge in our pleasure, and our diversion will become our safety.'

This is all the account we are favoured with of the life and writings of Mr. Pomfret: A man not destitute either of erudition or genius, of unexceptionable morals, though exposed to the malice of antagonists. As he was a prudent man, and educated to a profession, he was not subject to the usual necessities of the poets, but his sphere being somewhat obscure, and his life unactive, there are few incidents recorded concerning him. If he had not fortune sufficient to render him conspicuous, he had enough to keep his life innocent, which he seems to have spent in ease and tranquillity, a situation much more to be envied than the highest blaze of fame, attended with racking cares, and innumerable sollicitudes.

The CHOICE.

If Heav'n the grateful liberty would give,
That I might chuse my method how to live.
And all those hours propitious fate should lend,
In blissful ease and satisfaction spend,

Near some fair town I'd have a private seat,
Built uniform; not little, nor too great:
Better if on a rising ground it flood
On this side fields, on that a neighb'ring wood.
It should within no other things contain,
But what were useful, necessary, plain:
Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'r endure
The needless pomp of gawdy furniture.
A little garden, grateful to the eye,
And a cool rivulet run murm'ring by:
On whose delicious banks a slately row
Of shady Lymes or Sycamores should grow.
At th' end of which a silent study plac'd,
Should be with all the noblest authors grac'd.
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines
Immortal wit and solid learning shines.
Sharp Juvenal, and am'rous Ovid too,
Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew:
He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with stronger nature joins,
Must grant his fancy, does the best excel;
His thoughts so tender, and express'd so well.
With all those moderns, men of steady sense,
Esteem'd for learning, and for eloquence.
In some of these, as fancy should advise.
I'd always take my morning exercise:
For sure no minutes bring us more content,
Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent.

I'd have a clear, and competent estate,
That I might live genteely, but not great:
As much as I could moderately spend,
A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune, they should taste of mine;
And all that objects of true pity were
Should be reliev'd with what my wants could spare:
For that, our Maker has too largely giv'n,
Should be return'd, in gratitude to Heav'n,
A frugal plenty mould my table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, dimes fed:
Enough to satisfy, and something more
To feed the stranger, and the neighb'ring poor:
Strong meat indulges vice, and pamp'ring food
Creates diseases, and inflames the blood.
But what's sufficient to make nature strong,
And the bright lamp of life continue long,
I'd freely take, and, as I did possess,
The bounteous author of my plenty bless.

I'd have a little vault, but always stor'd
With the best wines each vintage could afford.
Wine whets the wit, improves its native force,
And gives a pleasant flavour to discourse:
By making all our spirits debonair,
Throws off the lees, the sediment of care,
But as the greatest blessing Heav'n lends,
May be debauch'd and serve ignoble ends:
So, but too oft, the Grape's refreshing juice
Does many mischievous effects produce.
My house should no such rude disorders know,
As from high drinking consequently flow:
Nor would I use what was so kindly giv'n
To the dishonour of indulgent Heav'n.
If any neighbour came, he should be free,
Us'd with respect, and not uneasy be,
In my retreat, or to himself or me.
What freedom, prudence, and right reason give,
All men may with impunity receive:
But the least swerving from their rule's too much;
For what's forbidden us, 'tis death to touch.

That life might be more comfortable yet,
And all my joys resin'd, sincere, and great;
I'd chuse two friends, whose company would be
A great advance to my felicity.
Well born, of humour suited to my own;
Discreet, and men, as well as books, have known.
Brave, gen'rous, witty, and exactly free
From loose behaviour, or formality.
Airy, and prudent, merry, but not light;
Quick in discerning, and in judging right.
Secret they should be, faithful to their trust;
In reas'ning cool, strong, temperate, and just.
Obliging, open, without huffing, brave,
Brisk in gay talking, and in sober, grave.
Close in dispute, but not tenacious; try'd
By solid reason, and let that decide.
Not prone to lust, revenge, or envious hate;
Nor busy medlers with intrigues of state.
Strangers to slander, and sworn foes to spight:
Not quarrelsome, but stout enough to fight.
Loyal, and pious, friends to Cæsar, true
As dying martyrs, to their Maker too.
In their society I could not miss
A permanent, sincere, substantial bliss.

Would bounteous Heav'n once more indulge; I'd chuse
(For who would so much satisfaction, lose,
As witty nymphs in conversation, give)
Near some obliging, modest fair to live;
For there's that sweetness in a female mind,
Which in a man's we cannot hope to find:
That by a secret, but a pow'rful art,
Winds up the springs of life, and does impart
Fresh vital heat, to the transported heart.

I'd have her reason all her passions sway;
Easy in company, in private gay:
Coy to a fop, to the deserving free,
Still constant to herself, and just to me.
A soul she should have, for great actions fit;
Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit:
Courage to look bold danger in the face,
No fear, but only to be proud, or base:
Quick to advise, by an emergence prest,
To give good counsel, or to take the best.
I'd have th' expression of her thoughts be such
She might not seem reserv'd, nor talk too much.
That shew a want of judgment and of sense:
More than enough is but impertinence.
Her conduct regular, her mirth resin'd,
Civil to strangers to her neighbours kind,
Averte to vanity, revenge, and pride,
In all the methods of deceit untry'd.
So faithful to her friend, and good to all,
No censure might upon her actions fall:
Then would e'en envy be compell'd to say,
She goes the least of woman kind astray.

To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire,
Her conversation would new joys inspire;
Give life an edge so keen, no surly care
Would venture to assault my soul, or dare
Near my retreat to hide one secret snare.
But so divine, so noble a repast
I'd seldom, and with moderation taste,
For highest cordials all their virtue lose
By a too frequent, and too bold an use:
And what would cheer the spirit in distress;
Ruins our health, when taken to excess.

I'd be concern'd in no litigious jar,
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.
Whate'er assistance I had pow'r to bring
T' oblige my country, or to serve my King,
Whene'er they call'd, I'd readily afford
My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my sword.
Law suits I'd shun, with as much studious care,
As I would dens where hungry lions are:
And rather put up injuries, than be
A plague to him, who'd be a plague to me.
I value quiet at a price too great,
To give for my revenge so dear a rate:
For what do we by all our bustle gain,
But counterfeit delight, for real pain;

If Heav'n a date of many years would give,
Thus I'd in pleasure, ease, and plenty live.
And as I near approach'd the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
While I did for a better state prepare.
Then I'd not be with any trouble vex'd;
Nor have the evening of my days perplex'd.
But by a silent, and a peaceful death,
Without a sigh, resign my aged breath:
And when committed to the dust, I'd have
Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave.
Then would my exit so propitious be,
All men would wish to live and die, like me.

* * * * *

The LIFE of

Dr. WILLIAM KING.

This ingenious gentleman, was son of Ezekiel King, of London. He received the rudiments of his education in Westminster-school, under Dr. Busby, and was removed from thence to Christ's-Church in Oxford, in Michaelmas term, 1681, when at the age of eighteen. He studied the civil law, and practiced it at Doctor's Commons, with very great reputation; but the natural gaiety of his temper, and the love of company, betrayed him into those pleasures, which were incompatible with his profession.

Our author, by the reputation of his abilities obtained a patron in the earl of Pembroke, who upon his being appointed lord Lieutenant of Ireland, press'd him to go over to that kingdom.

Upon Dr. King's arrival in Ireland, his excellency appointed him judge advocate, sole commissioner of the prizes, and record keeper. There, he was well received, and countenanced by persons of the most distinguished rank, and could he have changed his disposition with the climate, had then an opportunity of making his fortune; but so far was he from improving this occasion to the purposes of his interest, that he returned back to England, with no other treasure, than a few merry Poems, and humorous Essays. He was naturally of a courteous behaviour, and very obliging: His conversation was chearful, and his wit pleasant and entertaining. But at length he chiefly subsisted on his fellowship in Christ-Church College: Before this time, he had published his most ingenious Poem, called the Art of Cookery, in imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry, with some Letters to Dr. Lister and others; occasioned principally by the title of a book, published by the Dr. being the works of Apicius Coelius, concerning the soups and sauces of the ancients, with an extract of the greatest curiosities contained in that book. Amongst his Letters, is one upon the Denti Scalps, or Tooth-picks of the Antients: Another contains an imitation of Horace: Epist. 5. Book I. being his invitation of Torquatus to supper. And a third, contains remarks on lord Grimston's play, called the Lawyer's Fortune; or Love in a Hollow-Tree.

At his leisure hours he wrote likewise, The Art of Love, an imitation of Ovid, De Arte Amandi. To which he prefixed an account of Ovid. In the latter part of his life, about the year 1711, he published an Historical Account of the Heathen Gods, and Heroes, for the use of Westminster, and other schools; for the better and more easy understanding of the Classics. Besides these performances, we likewise find three numbers of a project, entitled, the Transactioner, or, Useful Transactions: Containing a great number of small pieces, which it would be tedious here to enumerate.[1]

We have already observed, that our author while in Ireland, neglected the best opportunity of encreasing his fortune; and the circumstance which occasioned it we find to be this: He had contracted an intimacy which soon grew into friendship, with judge Upton, a man of the same temper with himself, who delighted in retirement and poetical amusement. He had a country villa called Mountown, near Dublin, where he and Dr. King used to retire, and spend most of their time without any regard to their public offices; and by these means neglecting to pay court to the lord lieutenant, they fell under his displeasure. These two poetical companions, indulged no other thoughts but those of living and dying in their rural retreat. Upon this occasion, Dr. King wrote a Pastoral Poem, called Mully of Mountown: Mully was the name of a Red-Cow which gave him milk, whom he made the chief subject of his Poem; which at that time the critics would have imposed upon the word as a political allegory, tho' this was a manner of writing, with which the Dr. was totally unacquainted.

When Dr. King, after his return from Ireland, had retired to live upon his fellowship at Oxford, he was sollicited by the earl of Anglesey to come to town, and undertake a cause of his, then before the House of Lords, (in relation to some cruelties he was accused of using to his lady) back'd by the violent prosecution of his mother-in-law, the countess of Dorchester. Upon this occasion the Doctor shook off the indolence of his nature, and so strenuously engaged in the cause of his patron, that he gained the reputation of an able lawyer as well as a poet. He naturally hated business, especially that of an advocate; but when appointed as a delegate, made a very discerning and able judge, yet never could bear the fatigue of wrangling. His chief pleasure consisted in trifles, and he was never happier, than when hid from the world. Few people pleased him in conversation, and it was a proof of his liking them, if his behaviour was tolerably agreeable. He was a great dissembler of his natural temper, which was fallen, morose, and peevish, where he durst shew it; but he was of a timorous disposition and the least slight or neglect offered to him, would throw him into a melancholy despondency. He was apt to say a great many ill-natur'd things, but was never known to do one: He was made up of tenderness, pity, and compassion; and of so feminine a disposition, that tears would fall from his eyes upon the smallest occasion.

As his education had been strict, so he was always of a religious disposition, and would not enter upon the business of the day, till he had performed his devotion, and read several portions of scripture out of the Psalms, the Prophets, and the New-Testament.

It appears from his loose papers, which he calls Adversaria, that he had been such an arduous student, that before he was eight-years in the university, he had read over and made reflections on twenty-two thousand books and manuscripts; a few of which, we shall give as specimen, in order to let the reader into the humour and taste of our author.

'Diogenes Lærtius, Book I.——Thales, being asked how a man might most easily brook misfortunes? answered, if he saw his enemies in a worse condition. It is not agreed, concerning the wisemen; or whether indeed they were seven.'

'There is a very good letter of Pisistratus to Solon, and of the same stile and character with those of Phalaris.'

'Solon ordained, that the guardians of orphans should not cohabit with their mothers: And that no person should be a guardian to those, whose estate descended to them at the orphan's decease. That no seal-graver should keep the seal of a ring that was sold: That, if any man put out the eye of him who had but one, he should lose both, his own: That, where a man never planted, it should be death to take away: That, it should be death for a magistrate to be taken in drink. Solon's letters at the end of his life, in Lærtius, give us a truer Idea of the man, than all he has written before, and are indeed very fine: Solon's to Cræsus are very genteel; and Pitaccus's on the other side, are rude and philosophical; However, both shew Cræsus to have been a very good man. These epistles give a further reason to believe, that the others were written by Phalaris. There is a letter from Cleobulus to Solon, to invite him to Lindus.'

'Bion used to say, it was more easy to determine differences, between enemies than friends; for that of two friends, one would become an enemy; but of two enemies, one would become a friend.'

'Anacharsis has an epistle to Cræsus, to thank him for his invitation; and Periander one to all the wise men, to invite them to Corinth to him, after their return from Lydia. Epimenides has an epistle to Solon, to invite him to Crete, under the tyranny of Pisistratus.'

'Epimenides often pretended that he rose from death to life.'

The above notes are sufficient to shew that he read the ancients with attention, and knew how to select the most curious passages, and most deserving the reader's observation.

About the year 1711 the Dr. published a piece called the British Palladium, or a welcome of lord, Bolingbroke from France. Soon after this, Dr. Swift, Dr. Friend, Mr. Prior, with some others of lord Bolingbroke's adherents, paid a visit to Dr. King, and brought along with them, the key of the Gazetteer's office, together with another key for the use of the paper office. The day following this friendly visit, the Dr. entered upon his new post; and two or three days after waited on his benefactor lord Bolingbroke, then secretary of state.

The author of the Doctor's life, published by Curl, has related an instance of inhumanity in alderman Barber, towards Dr. King. This magistrate was then printer of the Gazette, and was so cruel as to oblige the Dr. to sit up till three or four o'clock in the morning, upon those days the Gazette was published, to correct the errors of the press; which was not the business of the author, but a corrector, who is kept for that purpose in every printing-office of any consequence. This slavery the Dr. was not able to bear, and therefore quitted the office. The alderman's severity was the more unwarrantable, as the Dr. had been very kind in obliging him, by writing Examiners, and some other papers, gratis, which were of advantage to him as a printer. Those writings at that juncture made him known to the ministry, who afterwards employed him in a state paper called the Gazettee.

About Midsummer 1712 the Dr. quitted his employ, and retired to a gentleman's house on Lambeth side the water; where he had diverted himself a summer or two before: Here he enjoyed his lov'd tranquility, with a friend, a bottle, and his books; he frequently visited lord Clarendon, at Somerset-house, as long as he was able. It was the autumn season, and the Dr. began insensibly to droop: He shut himself up entirely from his nearest friends, and would not so much as see lord Clarendon; who hearing of his weak condition, ordered his sister to go to Lambeth, and fetch him from thence to a lodging he had provided for him, in the Strand, over against Somerset-house where next day about noon he expired, with all the patience, and resignation of a philosopher, and the true devotion of a christian; but would not be persuaded to go to rest the night before, till he made such a will, as he thought would be agreeable to lord Clarendon's inclinations; who after his death took care of his funeral. He was decently interred in the cloisters of Westminster-Abbey, next to his master Dr. Knipe, to whom a little before, he dedicated his Heathen Gods.——The gentleman already mentioned, who has transmitted some account of our author to posterity, delineates his character in the following manner. 'He was a civilian, exquisitely well read; a skillful judge, and among the learned, an universal scholar, a critic, and an adept; in all sciences and languages expert; and our English. Ovid, among the poets: In conversation, he was grave and entertaining, without levity or spleen: As an author, his character may be also summ'd up in the following lines.'

Read here, in softest sounds the sweetest satire,
A pen dipt deep in gall, a heart good-nature;
An English Ovid, from his birth he seems,
Inspired alike with strong poetic dreams;
The Roman, rants of heroes, gods, and Jove,
The Briton, purely paints the art of love.

As a specimen of our author's versification, we shall select a Poem of his called, the Art of making Puddings; published in his Miscellanies.

I sing of food, by British nurse design'd,
To make the stripling brave, and maiden kind.
Delay not muse in numbers to rehearse
The pleasures of our life, and sinews of our verse.
Let pudding's dish, most wholsome, be thy theme,
And dip thy swelling plumes in fragrant cream.
Sing then that dim so fitting to improve
A tender modesty, and trembling love;
Swimming in butter of a golden hue,
Garnish'd with drops of Rose's spicy dew.
Sometimes the frugal matron seems in haste,
Nor cares to beat her pudding into paste:
Yet milk in proper skillet she will place,
And gently spice it with a blade of mace;
Then set some careful damsel to look to't;
And still to stir away the bishop's-foot;
For if burnt milk shou'd to the bottom stick,
Like over-heated-zeal, 'twould make folks sick.
Into the Milk her flow'r she gently throws,
As valets now wou'd powder tender beaus:
The liquid forms in hasty mass unite,
Both equally delicious as they're white.
In mining dish the hasty mass is thrown,
And seems to want no graces but its own.
Yet still the housewife brings in fresh supplies,
To gratify the taste, and please the eyes.
She on the surface lumps of butter lays,
Which, melting with the heat, its beams displays;
From whence it causes wonder to behold
A silver soil bedeck'd with streams of gold!

[Footnote 1: The design of this work, was to ridicule Sir Hans Sloan's writings, in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal-Society; of which Dr. Sloan was secretary. This work, of Dr. King's, which is now become very scarce, is one of the severest and merriest Satires that ever was written in Prose.]

* * * * *

THOMAS SPRAT (Bishop of ROCHESTER)

Was descended from a very worthy, though obscure family, being the son of a private country minister; but his great merit raised him to that eminent station in the church, wherein he long presided, and was deservedly accounted one of the most considerable prelates of his time. The Oxford antiquary informs us, that on the 16th of January 1654, he was entered in Wadham-College, where he pursued his studies with the closest application, and distinguished himself by his prudent and courteous behaviour.

On the 3d of July 1669, Mr. Sprat took his master of arts degree, and the same day, commenced doctor in divinity. He had not long been in holy orders, till he was introduced at court, and by a happy power in conversation, so attracted the regard of Charles the IId. that he was considered as a man standing fair for preferment. In 1683, broke out the Rye-house Plot, a relation of the particulars of which, Charles the IId. commanded Dr. Sprat to draw up. This the Dr. in a letter to lord Dorset, informs us, he did with great unwillingness, and would have been impelled by no other consideration, than that of a royal command. The reason he executed these orders with so much reluctance, was, because many of the most popular men in the nation were either concerned themselves, or had some relations engaged, so that an account of a plot thus supported, must expose he writer to partial or popular resentments.

He requested the king, that he might be permitted to spare some names, and to represent the behaviour of others in as candid a light as possible, in which request his majesty indulged him; but notwithstanding all the candour he observed, and the most dispassionate representation of facts, yet his composing this relation, was brought against him as a crime, for which an opposite party endeavoured, and had almost effected his ruin. This work, tho' finished in the year 1683 was not published till 1685, when it came into the world, under the immediate direction of king James the IId. It was no doubt in consequence of this court service, that he was made dean of Westminster, Anno 1683; and bishop of Rochester the year following. Another step he took in the short reign of king James, likewise exposed him to the resentment of that power which took place at the revolution, which was his sitting in the ecclesiastical commission. By this he drew upon himself almost an universal censure, which he acknowledges to be just; as appears by a letter he wrote upon that occasion to the earl of Dorset, in the year 1689; which thus begins.

'My Lord,

I think I should be wanting to myself at this time, in my own necessary vindication, should I forbear any longer to give my friends a true account of my behaviour in the late ecclesiastical commission. Though I profess what I now say, I only intend as a reasonable mitigation of the offence I have given, not entirely to justify my sitting in that court; for which I acknowledge I have deservedly incurred the censure of many good men; and I wish I may ever be able to make a sufficient amends to my country for it.'

His crime in this particular was somewhat alleviated, by his renouncing the commission, when he perceived the illegal practices they were going to put in execution. His offences were strenuously urged against him, and had not the earl of Dorset warmly espoused his interest, he had probably been stript of his ecclesiastical preferments. His lordship charged the ill-conduct of both these affairs upon king James and his ministry; and thereby brought the bishop's opponents to a perfect reconciliation with him.

Notwithstanding this accommodation, such was the inquietude of the times, that his lordship had not long enjoyed this tranquility, before there was hatched a most villainous contrivance; not only to take away his life, but, the lives of archbishop Sancroft, lord Marlborough, and several other persons of honour and distinction; by forging an instrument under their hands, setting forth, that they had an intent to restore king James, and to seize upon the person of the princess of Orange, dead or alive; to surprize the tower, to raise a mighty army; and to bring the city of London into subjection. This black conspiracy to murther so many innocent persons, was by the providence of God soon detested; and his lordship drew up, and published an account of it, under this title, A Relation of the Wicked Contrivance of Stephen Blackhead, and Robert Young, against the Lives of several Persons, by forging an Association under their Hands. In two parts. The first being a Relation of what passed at the three Examinations of his Lordship, by a Committee of Lords of the Privy-Council. The second, being an Account of the two Authors of the Forgery; printed in quarto, in the year 1692.

His lordship was honourably acquitted; and he ever after looked upon this escape, as one of the most remarkable blessings of his life. 'In such 'critical times (says he) how little evidence would have sufficed to ruin any man, that had been accused with the least probability of truth? I do therefore, most solemnly oblige myself, and all mine, to keep the grateful remembrance of my deliverance, perpetual and sacred.'

Hitherto, we have considered Dr. Sprat in his episcopal, and public character; in which if he fell into some errors, he has a right to our candour, as they seem rather to have proceeded from misinformation, and excess of good-nature, than any malevolent, or selfish principle: We shall now take a view of him as an author.

His first appearance in that sphere, was in the year 1659, when in concert with Mr. Waller, and Mr. Dryden, he printed a Pindarique Ode, to the Memory of the most renowned Prince, Oliver, Lord Protector, &c. printed in quarto, which he dedicated to the reverend Mr. Wilkin's, then warden of Wadham-College; by whose approbation and request, it was made public, as the author designed it only for a private amusement. This was an unfavourable circumstance for our author, as it more particularly shews the fickleness of his disposition in state-matters, and gave him less credit with those parties he afterwards espoused.

His next production in poetry, was an Ode on the Plague of Athens; which happened in the second year of the Pelopponesian war, first described by Thucydides, afterwards by Lucretius: This Mr. Sprat dedicated to his worthy and learned friend, Dr. Walter Pope. The performance stood the test of the severest critics; and in the opinion of the best judges, the manner of his great original was judiciously imitated. Soon after this, he proceeded to give the public a specimen of his abilities in another kind, and succeeded with the greatest applause; which was his Observations on Monsieur de Serbiere's Voyage into England, written to Dr. Wren, professor of astronomy in Oxford; printed in octavo, in the year 1665.

Mr. Sprat in the beginning of his letter acquaints the Dr. with the motives of his engaging with Monsieur Serbiere, 'Having now (says he) under my hands, the history of the Royal-Society, it will be in vain for me to try to represent its design to be advantageous to the glory of England, if my countrymen shall know, that one who calls himself a member of that society, has escaped unanswered in the public disgraces, which he has cast on our whole nation.'—In this performance Mr. Sprat has given an undeniable proof, that the strength and solidity of an English pen, is infinitely superior to the gallant air of a French author, who is sprightly without propriety, and positive without truth.

About two years after, 1667, our author published his incomparable History of the Royal Society of London, for the improvement of natural knowledge; a work which has acquired him very great reputation, and has ranked him with the most elegant and polite writers of that age. Soon after this, Mr. Sprat lost his amiable and much esteemed friend Mr. Abraham Cowley, who by his will recommended to the care of his reverend friend, the revising of all his works that were printed, and the collecting of those papers which he had designed for the press. This truth Mr. Sprat faithfully discharged, and to the new edition of Mr. Cowley's Works, he prefixed an account of his life and writings, addressed to Mr. Martin Clifford. Happy is it for a good man, when he has such a friend to close his eyes: This is a desire peculiar to all, and the portion of few to enjoy.

For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd;
Left the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor cast one longing lingring look behind.

On some warm breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb, the voice of nature cries,
Awake! and faithful to her wonted fires[1].

This life of Cowley, by Dr. Sprat has been esteemed one of the most elegant compositions in our language; there are several extracts from it in our account of the life of that amiable Poet.

These are the most material performances of Dr. Sprat: a man, who was early introduced into an elevated station in life, which he held not without enemies to his dying moments. Villiers duke of Buckingham was his first patron, who notwithstanding his fickleness, and inconsistent levity, never forsook him; a circumstance which has induced many to believe, that that nobleman owed much to the refinement of our author; and that his Rehearsal had never been so excellent, nor so pungent a satire, had it not first passed under Dr. Sprat's perusal.

This learned prelate died of an apoplexy, May the 20th, 1713, at his episcopal feat in Bromly in Kent, in the 79th year of his age; and was interred in the Abbey-Church of Westminster.

As he lived esteemed by all his acquaintance, as well as the clergy of his diocese, so he died regretted by them, and indeed by all men of taste; for it is the opinion of many, that he raised the English tongue to that purity and beauty, which former writers were wholly strangers to, and which those who have succeeded him, can but imitate[2].

The benevolence of our author is very conspicuous in his last will, in favour of his widow and son; in which he commands them to extend that beneficence to his poor relations, which they always found from him; and not to suffer any of those to want, whose necessitous merit, had shared in all the external advantages he possessed. As he may be proposed (considered meerly as a writer) for an example worthy of imitation; so in the character of a dignified clergyman, he has likewise a claim to be copied in those retired and private virtues, in those acts of beneficence and humility, and that unaffected and primitive piety, for which he was justly distinguished.

[Footnote 1: Elegy in a Country Church-Yard, by Mr. Grey.]

[Footnote 2: Mr. Cooper, in his ingenious work entitled the Life of Socrates, speaks in a very different strain of the bishop's History of the Royal Society, which he calls a 'Fustian History!' and adds, that 'it was esteemed an excellent competition by the metaphor-hunting mob of silly writings in Charles II's reign.']

* * * * *

CHARLES MONTAGUE (Earl of HALLIFAX)

Was born the 16th of April 1661, and received the rudiments of his education at Westminster-school: From thence he was removed to Trinity-College in Cambridge, where by the brightness of his parts he was early distinguished; and coming to town soon after the death of king Charles the IId. he contracted an intimacy with the earl of Dorset, Sir Charles Sedley, and other wits of the age. After the accession of king William and queen Mary, having attached himself to the revolution interest, he was sworn one of the council: He served in parliament for the cities of Durham, and Westminster, at different times, and distinguished himself by his speeches in the House of Commons, on several important affairs. He was constituted one of the lords commissioners of the treasury, on the 21st of March 1691, and soon after sworn of the privy-council. In 1694 he was made chancellor and under treasurer of the exchequer.[1] In the year 1695, when the nation was distress'd, by the ill-state of the current coin of this kingdom, he projected the new coining of the silver money; and by his great prudence, and indefatigable industry brought it to bear. He likewise proposed the issuing exchequer bills, to supply the great scarcity of money, which has since been made use of to the great benefit of the nation. On the 16th of February, 1697.8, the House of Commons, came to a resolution, 'That it is the opinion of this house, that the honourable Charles Montague, Esq; chancellor of the exchequer, for his good services to this government, does deserve his majesty's favour.' His next concern, was the trade to the East-Indies; the settlement of which had been long depending, and was looked on as so nice, and difficult, that it had been referred to the king and council, and from them to the parliament; who on May the 26th, 1698, ordered a bill for settling the trade to that place: Mr. Montague transacted this whole affair; and by his industry and skill, in touching the affections of the people, raised two-millions, by only doubling the duties on paper, parchment, and salt; which to have done by any other means, was at that time matter of the utmost difficulty. These proofs of affection and zeal to his majesty's person and government, induced the king to declare him first: lord commissioner of the treasury; and on the 16th of July, 1698, appointed him one of the persons to whose fidelity, and honour, he reposed the trust of lords justices of England, for the administration of government during his absence. In the year 1700 his lordship resigned the place of first lord commissioner of the treasury, having obtained a grant of the office of auditor of the receipts of the exchequer, vacant by the death of Sir Robert Howard; and on the 4th of December, the same year, was advanced to the dignity of baron Hallifax, in the county of York.

On the accession of queen Anne, he was concerned in vindicating the memory of king William, and on all occasions shewed a disinterested zeal in the service of his country. He first projected the equivalent, which was given to the Scots, in order to promote the Union between the nations; and without which it had never been effected. And as his lordship first moved for appointing commissioners to treat of an Union between the two kingdoms; so he had not only a great share in that treaty, as one of the commissioners, but causing it to be ratified in parliament, and answered, with all the force of which he was master, the various objections made against it. And further, to strengthen the interest of the Whigs, which he thought was essentially connected with the protestant religion, his lordship proposed the bill for the naturalization of the illustrious house of Hanover, and for the better security of the succession of the crown in the protestant line; which being pass'd into an act, her majesty made choice of him to carry the news to our late sovereign; and to invest his son with the ensigns of the most noble order of the Garter. On his arrival at Hanover, he was received with extraordinary marks of distinction, and honour. During his residence there, the prince-royal of Prussia was married to his present majesty's sister; and soon aster that prince set out with his lordship for the confederate army. Hallifax then went to the Hague, where he laid the foundation of a stricter alliance between Great-Britain, and the United Provinces: On his return to England he was graciously received by the-queen, and continued in her favour till the change of the ministry, in the year 1710.

On her majesty's death, our author was one of the regency nominated by king George the Ist. till his arrival; who was no sooner possessed of the crown, but he shewed him distinguishing marks of his favour, having so strenuously promoted his succession to the British throne. He had his majesty's leave to resign his poll of auditor of the exchequer, to his nephew the honourable George Montague; and after being made first lord commissioner of the Treasury, and sworn of the privy-council, he was advanced to the dignity of earl of Hallifax, and viscount Sunbury, by letters patent, bearing date the 26th of October, 1714; and before the end of that year, was installed one of the knights companions of the most noble order of the garter, and made lord lieutenant of the county of Surry.

Lord Hallifax died in the 54th year of his age, on the 19th of May 1715, and on the 26th of the same month, was interred in general Monk's vault in Westminster-Abbey: leaving no issue, his titles devolved on his nephew, George late earl of Hallifax.—Considered as a poet, his lordship makes a less considerable figure than the earl of Dorset; there is a languor in his verses, which seems to indicate that he was not born with a poetical genius. That he was a lover of the muses, there is not the lead doubt, as we find him patronizing the poets so warmly; but there is some difference between a propensity to poetry, and a power of excelling in it. His lordship has writ but few things, and those not of the utmost consequence.

Among others are the following, printed in Tonsen's Minor Poets.

1. Verses On the death of Charles the IId.

2. An Ode on the Marriage of the Princess Anne, and Prince George of Denmark.

3. The Man of Honour, occasioned by a Postscript to Penn's Letter.

4. An Epistle to Charles earl of Dorset; occasioned by King William's Victory in Ireland.

5. Verses written for the toasting Glasses of the Kit-Cat-Club, 1703; which consisted of persons of the first fashion, who were in the interest of the house of Hanover. These Verses are by far the compleatest of lord Hallifax's, and, indeed, genteel compliments to the radiant beauties, who were the chief toasts amongst the Whigs. I shall here present the reader with them.

DUCHESS of BEAUFORT.

Offspring of a tuneful fire,
Blest with more than mortal sire:
Likeness of a mother's face,
Blest with more than mortal grace:
You with double charms surprize,
With his wit, and with her eyes.