'In that year when manna rained on all, why
should the muses fleece be only dry.'
The following epigram is not unworthy of a place here.
Whilst Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive,
No gen'rous patron would a dinner give;
But lo behold! when dead, the mould'ring dust,
Rewarded with a monumental bust!
A poet's fate, in emblem here is shewn,
He ask'd for bread, and he received—a stone.
Footnotes:
- Life of Butler, p 6.
- Posthumous Works of Wycherly, published by Mr. Theobald.
- Juv. Ded.
- Spect. No. 6. Vol. i.
Edmund Waller Esq;
Was descended of a family of his name in Buckinghamshire, a younger branch of the Wallers of Kent. He was born March 3, 1605 at Coleshill, which gives Warwickshire the honour of his birth. His father dying when he was very young, the care of his education fell to his mother, who sent him to Eton School, according to the author of his life, but Mr. Wood says, 'that he was mostly educated in grammaticals under one Dobson, minister of Great Wycombe in Bucks, who had been educated in Eton school,' without mentioning that Mr. Waller had been at all at Eton school: after he had acquired grammar learning, he was removed to King's college in Cambridge, and it is manifest that he must have been extremely assiduous in his studies, since he acquired so fine a taste of the ancients, in so short a time, for at sixteen or seventeen years of age, he was chosen into the last Parliament of King James I. and served as Burgess for Agmondesham.
[241] In the year 1623, when Prince Charles nearly escaped being cast away in the road of St. Andre, coming from Spain, Mr. Waller wrote a Poem on that occasion, at an age when, generally speaking, persons of the acutest parts just begin to shew themselves, and at a time when the English poetry had scarce any grace in it. In the year 1628 he addressed a Poem to his Majesty, on his hearing the news of the duke of Buckingham's death, which, with the former, procured him general admiration: harmony of numbers being at that time so great a novelty, and Mr. Waller having, at once, so polished and refined versification, it is no wonder that he enjoyed the felicity of an universal applause. These poems recommended him to court-favour, and rendered him dear to persons of the best taste and distinction that then flourished. A Writer of his life observes, as a proof of his being much caressed by people of the first reputation, that he was one of the famous club, of which the great lord Falkland, Sir Francis Wainman, Mr. Chillingworth, Mr. Godolphin, and other eminent men were members. These were the immortals of that age, and to be associated with them, is one of the highest encomiums which can possibly be bestowed, and exceeds the most laboured strain of a panegyrist.
A circumstance related of this club, is pretty remarkable: One evening, when they were convened, a great noise was heard in the street, which not a little alarmed them, and upon enquiring the cause, they were told, that a son of Ben Johnson's was arrested. This club was too generous to suffer the child of one, who was the genuine son of Apollo, to be carried to a Jail, perhaps for a trifle: they sent for him, but in place of being Ben Johnson's son, he proved to be Mr. George Morley, afterwards bishop of Winchester. Mr. Waller liked him so well, that he paid the debt, which [242] was no less than one hundred pounds, on condition that he would live with him at Beconsfield, which he did eight or ten years together, and from him Mr. Waller used to say, that he learned a taste of the ancient poets, and got what he had of their manner. But it is evident from his poems, written before this incident of Mr. Morley's arrest, that he had early acquired that exquisite Spirit; however, he might have improved it afterwards, by the conversation and assistance of Mr. Morley, to whom this adventure proved very advantageous.
It is uncertain, at what time our author was married, but, it is supposed, that his first wife Anne, daughter and heir of Edward Banks, esq; was dead before he fell in love with lady Dorothy Sidney, daughter to the earl of Leicester, whom he celebrates under the name of Sacharissa. Mr. Waller's passion for this lady, has been the subject of much conversation; his verses, addressed to her, have been renowned for their delicacy, and Sacharissa has been proposed, as a model to succeeding poets, in the celebration of their mistresses. One cannot help wishing, that the poet had been as successful in his Addresses to her, as he has been in his love-strains, which are certainly the sweetest in the world. The difference of station, and the pride of blood, perhaps, was the occasion, that Sacharissa never became the wife of Waller; though in reality, as Mr. Waller was a gentleman, a member of parliament, and a person of high reputation, we cannot, at present, see so great a disproportion: and, as Mr. Waller had fortune, as well as wit and poetry, lord Leicester's daughter could not have been disgraced by such an alliance. At least we are sure of one thing, that she lives for ever in Waller's strains, a circumstance, which even her beauty could not have otherwise procured, nor the lustre of the earl of Sunderland, whom she afterwards married: the countess of Sunderland, like the radiant circles of that age, long before this time [243] would have slept in oblivion, but the Sacharissa of Waller is consigned to immortality, and can never die but with poetry, taste, and politeness.