The first introduction of the kind was to John Home, the author of Douglas, who was then, on account of the success of this tragedy, in considerable reputation as a dramatic author. He was an enlightened and agreeable man; and though he had not the dexterity or the power to conciliate the good graces of Garrick, he had the better fortune of being complimented by Hume the historian on his rivalling Shakespeare in genius. Alas! neither his contemporaries, nor posterity acceded, or will accede to this eulogium. He wrote other things for the stage, but this of Douglas alone succeeded, and this, it is to be apprehended, will not perpetuate his name.
The communication with the amiable and accomplished translator of Ariosto and Tasso, was much more frequent, as well as more familiar. When his disadvantages of early education are taken into consideration, for as Dr. Johnson facetiously observed, he was regularly brought up in Grub street, it may reasonably excite surprize, that his progress in knowledge should be so considerable and so diversified.
He was a very respectable scholar, and his acquaintance with the Italian language in particular was remarkably accurate. His versions of the three great Italian poets, still retain no contemptible portion of the public favour; his Metastasio more than either, attracted notice and obtained applause. But his original compositions were few, and not very much distinguished by the animation of genius. His name has not undeservedly found a place in the annals of modern biography, but they who are most partial to his memory, however they may have been delighted with his mild and engaging manners, must be satisfied with having their favourite comprehended in the class of our minor poets.
The next person who was classed among the poets of his day, and rather in the first rank than the second, should perhaps in point of accuracy have preceded those who are here placed before him. This was Soame Jenyns. It would be superfluous to say any thing here of his literary character or pretensions. The public taste has long since decided upon the station to which he is entitled among authors. But he was a poet, and personally known to the Sexagenarian, and therefore not improperly introduced on this occasion.
His appearance, dress, manner, and conversation, were very eccentric, and those of his wife, who generally accompanied him on his visits, were no less so. The lady here alluded to was his second wife, who entertained so exalted an idea of her husband’s accuracy and propriety of conversation, that she acquired the habit of always repeating the last sentence of any thing he said. Thus when the gentleman observed, we had a disagreeable journey to town, the roads were bad, we were sadly jolted, the lady would immediately repeat the observation, “Yes, as Mr. Jenyns says, we were sadly jolted.”
But we have nothing to do here but with his merits as a poet, and his claims to permanent reputation in that character. His poems were published collectively in the volumes of Dodsley, and whoever pleases, may judge of their value. But they excited no great interest when originally written; they excite less at the present period, and will probably glide down the stream of time, till, with the mob of gentlemen who write with ease, they sink into the waters of oblivion.
Much of the same class and pretensions as to poetical merit, though in other respects with less various, and much more limited intellectual powers, was Jerningham.
With this gentleman there was a personal acquaintance of many years continuance, and it was impossible not to be pleased with his amiable and elegant manners. Whilst he lived he was highly respected for his very cultivated mind, and for a long series of years he was ranked in the first class of his contemporary poets. Unluckily for the fabric of his poetical fame, two ill-betiding lines from a wicked satirist overset it almost in a moment.
Nobody was presumptuous enough to praise the versification of this unfortunate bard, after reading in the Baviad,