It may be justly said of all Rowe's Tragedies, that never poet painted virtue, religion, and all the relative and social duties of life, in a more alluring dress, on the stage; nor were ever vice or impiety, better exposed to contempt and abhorrence.
The same principles of liberty he had early imbibed himself, seemed a part of his constitution, and appeared in every thing he wrote; and he took all occasions that fell in his way, to make his talents subservient to them: His Muse was so religiously chaste, that I do not remember, says Dr. Welwood, one word in any of his plays or writings, that might admit of a double meaning in any point of decency, or morals. There is nothing to be found in them, to flatter a depraved populace, or humour a fashionable folly.
Mr. Rowe's Plays were written from the heart. He practised the virtue he admired, and he never, in his gayest moments, suffered himself to talk loosely or lightly upon religious or moral subjects; or to turn any thing sacred, or which good men reverenced as such, into ridicule.
Our author wrote a comedy of three acts, called the Biter. It was performed at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields; but without success, for Rowe's genius did not lie towards Comedy.—In a conversation he had with Mr. Pope, that great poet advised him to rescue the queen of Scots, from the hands of Banks; and to make that lady to shine on the stage, with a lustre equal to her character. Mr. Rowe observed in answer to this, that he was a great admirer of queen Elizabeth; and as he could not well plan a play upon the queen of Scots's story, without introducing his favourite princess, who in that particular makes but an indifferent figure, he chose to decline it: Besides, he knew that if he favoured the northern lady, there was a strong party concerned to crush it; and if he should make her appear less great than she was, and throw a shade over her real endowments, he should violate truth, and incur the displeasure of a faction, which though by far the minority, he knew would be yet too powerful for a poet to combat with.
The late duke of Queensberry, when secretary of state, made Mr. Rowe secretary for public affairs; and when that nobleman came to know him well, he was never more delighted than when in his company: After the duke's death, all avenues were stopt to his preferment; and during the rest of queen Anne's reign, he passed his time with the Muses and his books, and sometimes with the conversation of his friends.
While Mr. Rowe was thus without a patron, he went one day to pay his court to the earl of Oxford, lord high treasurer of England, then at the head of the Tory faction, who asked him if he understood Spanish well? He answered no: but imagining that his lordship might intend to send him into Spain on some honourable commission, he presently added, that in a short time he did not doubt but he should presently be able, both to understand it, and speak it. The earl approving of what he said, Mr. Rowe took his leave, and immediately retired out of town to a private country farm; where, within a few months, he learned the Spanish tongue, and then waited again on the earl to give him an account of his diligence. His lordship asking him, if he was sure he understood it thoroughly, and Mr. Rowe answering in the affirmative, the earl burst into an exclamation; 'How happy are you Mr. Rowe, that you can enjoy the pleasure of reading, and understanding Don Quixote in the original!'
This wanton cruelty inflicted by his lordship, of raising expectations in the mind, that he never intended to gratify, needs only be told to excite indignation. Upon the accession of king George the 1st. to the throne, Mr. Rowe was made Poet-Laureat, and one of the surveyors of the customs, in the port of London. The prince of Wales conferred on him, the place of clerk of his council, and the lord chancellor Parker, made him his secretary for the presentations, the very day he received the seals, and without his asking it.
He was twice married, first to a daughter of Mr. auditor Parsons; and afterwards to a daughter of Mr. Devenish of a good family in Dorsetshire. By his first wife, he had a son, and by his second a daughter.
Mr. Rowe died the 6th of December 1718, in the 45th year of his age, like a christian and a philosopher, and with an unfeigned resignation to the will of God: He preferred an evenness of temper to the last, and took leave of his wife, and friends, immediately before his last agony, with the same tranquility of mind, as if he had been taking but a short journey.
He was interred in Westminster-Abbey, over against Chaucer; his body being attended with a vast number of friends, and the dean and chapter officiating at the funeral. A tomb was afterwards erected to his memory, by his wife, for which Mr. Pope wrote an epitaph, which we shall here insert; not one word of which is hyperbolical, or more than he deserves. Epitaph on ROWE, by Mr. POPE.