Chapter V: Part 5

The collection now exhibited to the world is, says Dr. Birch, and we entirely agree with him, so incontestable a proof of the superiority of our author's genius, as in a manner supersedes every thing that can be said upon that head. But her abilities as a writer, and the merit of her works, will not have full justice done them, without a due attention to the peculiar circumstances, in which they were produced: her early youth, when she wrote some, her very advanced age, and ill state of health, when she drew up others; the uneasy situation of her fortune, during the whole course of her life; and an interval of near twenty years in the vigour of it, spent in the cares of a family, without the least leisure for reading or contemplation: after which, with a mind so long diverted and incumbered, resuming her studies, she instantly recovered its intire powers, and in the hours of relaxation from her domestic employments, pursued, to their utmost limits, some of the deepest enquiries of which the human mind is capable!

CONTENTS of the First Volume of Mrs. COCKBURN'S Works.

I. A Discourse concerning a Guide in Controversy. First published in 1707, with a preface by bishop Burnet.

II. A Defence of Mr. Lock's Essay of Human Understanding. First published in 1702.

III. A Letter to Dr. Holdsworth, concerning the Resurrection of the same Body. First published in 1726.

IV. A Vindication of Mr. Lock's Christian Principles, from the injurious Imputations of Dr. Holdsworth. Now first published.

V. Remarks upon some Writers in the Controversy, concerning the Foundation of Moral Virtue, and Moral Obligation. With some Thoughts concerning Necessary Existence; the Reality and Infinity of Space; the Extension and Place of Spirits; and on Dr. Watts's Notion of Substance. First published in 1743.

CONTENTS of the Second Volume.

I. Remarks upon Dr. Rutherforth's Essay on the Nature and Obligations of Virtue. First published in the year 1747.

II. Miscellaneous Pieces. Now first printed. Containing a Letter of Advice to her Son.--Sunday's Journal.--On the Usefulness of Schools and Universities.--On the Credibility of the Historical Parts of Scripture. --On Moral Virtue.--Notes on Christianity as old as the Creation.--On the Infallibility of the Church of Rome.--Answer to a Question concerning the Jurisdiction of the Magistrate over the Life of the Subject.--Remarks on Mr. Seed's Sermon on Moral Virtue.--Remarks upon an Enquiry into the Origin of Human Appetites and Affections.

III. Letters between Mrs. Cockburn and several of her Friends. These take up the greatest part of the volume.

IV. Letters between the Rev. Dr. Sharp, Archdeacon of Northumberland and Mrs. Cockburn concerning the Foundation of Moral Virtue.

V. Fatal Friendship, a Tragedy.

VI. Poems on several Occasions. There are very few of these, and what there are, are of little note. Her poetical talent was the smallest and least valuable of our author's literary accomplishments.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Historia Mulierum Philosopharum. 8vo. Lyons. 1690.

[2] Dr. Birch mentions also Mr. Higgons's verses on this occasion, and
gives a copy of a complimentary letter to our author, from Mr.
George Farquhar.

[3] Author of an excellent pamphlet, entitled, Two Dissertations
concerning the Etymology and Scripture-meaning of the Hebrew Words
Elohim and Berith. Vide Monthly Review.

* * * * *

AMBROSE PHILLIPS, ESQ;

This Gentleman was descended from a very ancient, and considerable family in the county of Leicester, and received his education in St. John's college Cambridge, where he wrote his Pastorals, a species of excellence, in which he is thought to have remarkably distinguished himself. When Mr. Philips quitted the university, and repaired to the metropolis, he became, as Mr. Jacob phrases it, one of the wits at Buttons; and in consequence of this, contracted an acquaintance with those bright genius's who frequented it; especially Sir Richard Steele, who in the first volume of his Tatler inserts a little poem of this author's dated from Copenhagen, which he calls a winter piece; Sir Richard thus mentions it with honour. 'This is as fine a piece, as we ever had from any of the schools of the most learned painters; such images as these give us a new pleasure in our fight, and fix upon our minds traces of reflexion, which accompany us wherever the like objects occur.'

This short performance which we shall here insert, was reckoned so elegant, by men of taste then living, that Mr. Pope himself, who had a confirmed aversion to Philips, when he affected to despise his other works, always excepted this out of the number.

It is written from Copenhagen, addressed to the Earl of Dorset, and dated the 9th of May 1709.

A WINTER PIECE.

From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
From streams that northern winds forbid to flow;
What present shall the Muse to Dorset bring,
Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing?
The hoary winter here conceals from sight,
All pleasing objects that to verse invite.
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
The flow'ry plains, and silver streaming floods,
By snow distinguished in bright confusion lie,
And with one dazling waste, fatigue the eye.

No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring,
No birds within the desart region sing.
The ships unmov'd the boist'rous winds defy,
While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
The vast Leviathan wants room to play,
And spout his waters in the face of day.
The starving wolves along the main sea prowl,
And to the moon in icy valleys howl,
For many a shining league the level main,
Here spreads itself into a glassy plain:
There solid billows of enormous size,
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.

And yet but lately have I seen ev'n here,
The winter in a lovely dress appear.
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow,
Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow;
At ev'ning a keen eastern breeze arose;
And the descending rain unsully'd froze.
Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn disclos'd at once to view,
The face of nature in a rich disguise,
And brighten'd every object to my eyes:

And ev'ry shrub, and ev'ry blade of grass,
And ev'ry pointed thorn seem'd wrought in glass.
In pearls and rubies rich, the hawthorns show,
While through the ice the crimson berries glow.
The thick sprung reeds, the watry marshes yield,
Seem polish'd lances in a hostile field.
The flag in limpid currents with surprize,
Sees crystal branches on his fore-head rise.
The spreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine,
Glaz'd over, in the freezing æther shine.
The frighted birds, the rattling branches shun.
That wave and glitter in the distant sun.

When if a sudden gust of wind arise,
The brittle forest into atoms flies:
The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
And in a spangled show'r the prospect ends.
Or, if a southern gale the region warm,
And by degrees unbind the wintry charm,
The traveller, a miry country sees,
And journeys sad beneath the dropping trees.

Like some deluded peasant, Merlin leads
Thro' fragrant bow'rs, and thro' delicious meads;
While here inchanted gardens to him rise,
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
His wand'ring feet the magic paths pursue;
And while he thinks the fair illusion true,
The trackless scenes disperse in fluid air,
And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways appear:
A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
And, as he goes, the transient vision mourns.

But it was not enough for Sir Richard to praise this performance of Mr. Philips. He was also an admirer of his Pastorals, which had then obtained a great number of readers: He was about to form a Critical Comparison of Pope's Pastorals, and these of Mr. Philips; and giving in the conclusion, the preference to the latter. Sir Richard's design being communicated to Mr. Pope, who was not a little jealous of his reputation, he took the alarm; and by the most artful and insinuating method defeated his purpose.

The reader cannot be ignorant, that there are several numbers in the Guardian, employed upon Pastoral Poetry, and one in particular, upon the merits of Philips and Pope, in which the latter is found a better versifier; but as a true Arcadian, the preference is given to Philips. That we may be able to convey a perfect idea of the method which Mr. Pope took to prevent the diminution of his reputation, we shall transcribe the particular parts of that paper in the Guardian, Number XL. Monday April the 27th.

I designed to have troubled the reader with no farther discourses of Pastorals, but being informed that I am taxed of partiality, in not mentioning an author, whose Eclogues are published in the same volume with Mr. Philips's, I shall employ this paper in observations upon him, written in the free spirit of criticism, and without apprehensions of offending that gentleman, whose character it is, that he takes the greatest care of his works before they are published, and has the least concern for them afterwards. I have laid it down as the first rule of Pastoral, that its idea should be taken from the manners of the Golden Age, and the moral formed upon the representation of innocence; 'tis therefore plain, that any deviations from that design, degrade a poem from being true Pastoral.

So easy as Pastoral writing may seem (in the simplicity we have described it) yet it requires great reading, both of the ancients and moderns, to be a master of it. Mr. Philips hath given us manifest proofs of his knowledge of books; it must be confessed his competitor has imitated some single thoughts of the antients well enough, if we consider he had not the happiness of an university education: but he hath dispersed them here and there without that order and method Mr. Philips observes, whose whole third pastoral, is an instance how well he studied the fifth of Virgil, and how judiciously he reduced Virgil's thoughts to the standard of pastoral; and his contention of Colin Clout, and the Nightingale, shews with what exactness he hath imitated Strada. When I remarked it as a principal fault to introduce fruits, and flowers of a foreign growth in descriptions, where the scene lies in our country, I did not design that observation should extend also to animals, or the sensitive life; for Philips hath with great judgment described wolves in England in his first pastoral. Nor would I have a poet slavishly confine himself, (as Mr. Pope hath done) to one particular season of the year, one certain time of the day, and one unbroken scene in each Eclogue. It is plain, Spencer neglected this pedantry, who in his Pastoral of November, mentions the mournful song of the Nightingale.

Sad Philomel, her song in tears doth sleep.

And Mr. Philips by a poetical creation, hath raised up finer beds of flowers, than the most industrious gardener; his roses, lilies, and daffadils, blow in the same season.

But the better to discover the merit of our two cotemporary pastoral writers. I shall endeavour to draw a parallel of them, by placing several of their particular thoughts in the same light; whereby it will be obvious, how much Philips hath the advantage: With what simplicity he introduces two shepherds singing alternately.

HOBB.

Come Rosalind, O come, for without thee
What pleasure can the country have for me?
Come Rosalind, O come; my brinded kine,
My snowy sheep, my farm and all is thine.

LANG.

Come Rosalind, O come; here shady bowers.
Here are cool fountains, and here springing flowers.
Come Rosalind; here ever let us stay,
And sweetly waste our live-long time away.

Our other pastoral writer in expressing the same thought, deviates into downright poetry.

STREPHON.

In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love,
At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,
But Delia always; forc'd from Delia's sight,
Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.

DAPHNE.

Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May,
More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day;
Ev'n spring displeases when she shines not here:
But blest with her, 'tis spring throughout the year.

In the first of these authors, two shepherds thus innocently describe the behaviour of their mistresses.

HOBB.

As Marian bath'd, by chance I passed by;
She blush'd, and at me cast a side-long eye:
Then swift beneath, the crystal waves she tried,
Her beauteous form, but all in vain, to hide.

LANG.

As I to cool me bath'd one sultry day,
Fond Lydia lurking in the sedges lay,
The woman laugh'd, and seem'd in haste to fly;
Yet often stopp'd, and often turn'd her eye.

The other modern (who it must be confess'd has a knack at versifying) has it as follows,

STREPHON.

Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain,
Thus, hid in shades, eludes her eager swain;
But feigns a laugh, to see me search around,
And by that laugh the willing fair is found.

DAPHNE.

The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green;
She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen;
While a kind glance, at her pursuer flies,
How much at variance are her feet and eyes.

There is nothing the writers of this kind of poetry are fonder of, than descriptions of pastoral presents.

Philips says thus of a Sheep-hook.

Of season'd elm, where studs of brass appear,
To speak the giver's name, the month, and year;
The hook of polished steel, the handle turn'd,
And richly by the graver's skill adorn'd.

The other of a bowl embossed with figures,

--Where wanton ivy twines,
And swelling clusters bend the curling vines,
Four figures rising from the work appear,
The various seasons of the rolling year;
And what is that which binds the radiant sky,
Where twelve bright signs, in beauteous order lye.

The simplicity of the swain in this place who forgets the name of the Zodiac, is no ill imitation of Virgil; but how much more plainly, and unaffectedly would Philips have dressed this thought in his Doric.

And what that height, which girds the welkin-sheen
Where twelve gay signs in meet array are seen.

If the reader would indulge his curiosity any farther in the comparison of particulars, he may read the first Pastoral of Philips, with the second of his contemporary, and the fourth and fifth of the former, with the fourth and first of the latter; where several parallel places will occur to every one.

Having now shewn some parts, in which these two writers may be compared, it is a justice I owe to Mr. Philips, to discover those in which no man can compare with him. First, the beautiful rusticity, of which I shall now produce two instances, out of a hundred not yet quoted.

O woeful day! O day of woe, quoth he,
And woeful I, who live the day to see!

That simplicity of diction, the melancholy flowing of the numbers, the solemnity of the sound, and the easy turn of the words, are extremely elegant.

In another Pastoral, a shepherd utters a Dirge, not much inferior to the former in the following lines.

Ah me the while! ah me, the luckless day!
Ah luckless lad, the rather might I say;
Ah silly I! more silly than my sheep,
Which on the flow'ry plains I once did keep.

How he still charms the ear, with his artful repetition of the epithets; and how significant is the last verse! I defy the most common reader to repeat them, without feeling some motions of compassion. In the next place, I shall rank his Proverbs in which I formerly observed he excels: For example,

A rolling stone is ever bare of moss;
And, to their cost, green years old proverbs cross,
--He that late lies down, as late will rise,
And sluggard like, till noon-day snoring lies.
Against ill-luck, all cunning foresight fails;
Whether we sleep or wake, it nought avails.
--Nor fear, from upright sentence wrong,

Lastly, His excellent dialect, which alone might prove him the eldest born of Spencer, and the only true Arcadian, &c.

Thus far the comparison between the merit of Mr. Pope and Mr. Philips, as writers of Pastoral, made by the author of this paper in the Guardian, after the publication of which, the enemies of Pope exulted, as in one particular species of poetry, upon which he valued himself, he was shewn to be inferior to his contemporary. For some time they enjoyed their triumph; but it turned out at last to their unspeakable mortification.

The paper in which the comparison is inserted, was written by Mr. Pope himself. Nothing could have so effectually defeated the design of diminishing his reputation, as this method, which had a very contrary effect. He laid down some false principles, upon these he reasoned, and by comparing his own and Philips's Pastorals, upon such principles it was no great compliment to the latter, that he wrote more agreeable to notions which are in themselves false.

The subjects of pastoral are as various as the passions of human nature; nay, it may in some measure partake of every kind of poetry, but with this limitation, that the scene of it ought always to be laid in the country, and the thoughts never contrary to the ideas of those who are bred there. The images are to be drawn from rural life; and provided the language is perspicuous, gentle, and flowing, the sentiments may be as elegant as the country scenes can furnish.--In the particular comparison of passages between Pope and Philips, the former is so much superior, that one cannot help wondering, that Steele could be thus imposed upon, who was in other respects a very quick discerner. Though 'tis not impossible, but that Guardian might go to the press without Sir Richard's seeing it; he not being the only person concern'd in that paper.

The two following lines so much celebrated in this paper, are sufficiently convincing, that the whole criticism is ironical.

Ah! silly I, more silly than my sheep,
Which on the flowr'y plains I once did keep.

Nothing can be much more silly than these lines; and yet the author says, "How he still charms the ear with the artful repetitions of epithets."

SILLY I, MORE SILLY THAN MY SHEEP.

The next work Mr. Philips published after his Pastorals, and which it is said he wrote at the university, was his life of John Williams lord keeper of the great-seal, bishop of Lincoln and archbishop of York, in the reigns of king James and Charles the First, in which are related some remarkable occurrences in those times, both in church and state, with an appendix, giving an account of his benefactions to St. John's college.

Mr. Philips, seems to have made use of archbishop William's life, the better to make known his own state principles, which in the course of that work he had a fair occasion of doing. Bishop Williams was the great opposer of High-Church measures, he was a perpetual antagonist to Laud; and lord Clarendon mentions him in his history with very great decency and respect, when it is considered that they adhered to opposite parties.

Mr. Philips, who early distinguished himself in revolution principles, was concerned with Dr. Boulter, afterwards archbishop of Armagh, the right honourable Richard West, Esq; lord chancellor of Ireland; the revd. Mr. Gilbert Burnet, and the revd. Mr. Henry Stevens, in writing a paper called the Free-Thinker; but they were all published by Mr. Philips, and since re-printed in three volumes in 12mo. In the latter part of the reign of queen Anne, he was secretary to the Hanover Club, a set of noblemen and gentlemen, who associated in honour of that succession. They drank regular toasts to the health of those ladies, who were most zealously attached to the Hanoverian family; upon whom Mr. Philips wrote the following lines,

While these, the chosen beauties of our isle,
Propitious on the cause of freedom smile,
The rash Pretender's hopes we may despise,
And trust Britannia's safety to their eyes.

After the accession of his late majesty, Mr. Philips was made a justice of peace, and appointed a commissioner of the lottery. But though his circumstances were easy, the state of his mind was not so; he fell under the severe displeasure of Mr. Pope, who has satirized him with his usual keenness.

'Twas said, he used to mention Mr. Pope as an enemy to the government; and that he was the avowed author of a report, very industriously spread, that he had a hand in a paper called The Examiner. The revenge which Mr. Pope took in consequence of this abuse, greatly ruffled the temper of Mr. Philips, who as he was not equal to him in wit, had recourse to another weapon; in the exercise of which no great parts are requisite. He hung up a rod at Button's, with which he resolved to chastise his antagonist, whenever he should come there. But Mr. Pope, who got notice of this design, very prudently declined coming to a place, where in all probability he must have felt the resentment of an enraged author, as much superior to him in bodily strength, as inferior in wit and genius.

When Mr. Philips's friend, Dr. Boulter, rose to be archbishop of Dublin, he went with him into Ireland, where he had considerable preferments; and was a member of the House of Commons there, as representative of the county of Armagh.

Notwithstanding the ridicule which Mr. Philips has drawn upon himself, by his opposition to Pope, and the disadvantageous light his Pastorals appear in, when compared with his; yet, there is good reason to believe, that Mr. Philips was no mean Arcadian: By endeavouring to imitate too servilely the manners and sentiments of vulgar rustics, he has sometimes raised a laugh against him; yet there are in some of his Pastorals a natural simplicity, a true Doric dialect, and very graphical descriptions.

Mr. Gildon, in his compleat Art of Poetry, mentions him with Theocritus and Virgil; but then he defeats the purpose of his compliment, for by carrying the similitude too far, he renders his panegyric hyperbolical.

We shall now consider Mr. Philips as a dramatic writer. The first piece he brought upon the stage, was his Distress'd Mother, translated from the French of Monsieur Racine, but not without such deviations as Mr. Philips thought necessary to heighten the distress; for writing to the heart is a secret which the best of the French poets have not found out. This play was acted first in the year 1711, with every advantage a play could have. Pyrrhus was performed by Mr. Booth, a part in which he acquired great reputation. Orestes was given to Mr. Powel, and Andromache was excellently personated by the inimitable Mrs. Oldfield. Nor was Mrs. Porter beheld in Hermione without admiration. The Distress'd Mother is so often acted, and so frequently read, we shall not trouble the reader with giving any farther account of it.

A modern critic speaking of this play, observes that the distress of Andromache moves an audience more than that of Belvidera, who is as amiable a wife, as Andromache is an affectionate mother; their circumstances though not similar, are equally interesting, and yet says he, 'the female part of the audience is more disposed to weep for the suffering mother, than the suffering wife.[1]' The reason 'tis imagin'd is this, there are more affectionate mothers in the world than wives.

Mr. Philips's next dramatic performance was The Briton, a Tragedy; acted 1721. This is built on a very interesting and affecting story, whether founded on real events I cannot determine, but they are admirably fitted to raise the passion peculiar to tragedy. Vanoc Prince of the Cornavians married for his second wife Cartismand, Queen of the Brigantians, a woman of an imperious spirit, who proved a severe step-mother to the King's daughter Gwendolen, betrothed to Yvor, the Prince of the Silurians. The mutual disagreement between Vanoc and his Queen, at last produced her revolt from him. She intrigues with Vellocad, who had been formerly the King's servant, and enters into a league with the Roman tribune, in order to be revenged on her husband. Vanoc fights some successful battles, but his affairs are thrown into the greatest confusion, upon receiving the news that a party of the enemy has carried off the Princess his daughter. She is conducted to the tent of Valens the Roman tribune, who was himself in love with her, but who offered her no violation. He went to Vanoc in the name of Didius the Roman general, to offer terms of peace, but he was rejected with indignation. The scene between Vanoc and Valens is one of the most masterly to be met with in tragedy. Valens returns to his fair charge, while her father prepares for battle, and to rescue his daughter by the force of arms. But Cartismand, who knew that no mercy would be shewn her at the hands of her stern husband, flies to the Princess's tent, and in the violence of her rage stabs her. The King and Yvor enter that instant, but too late to save the beauteous Gwendolen from the blow, who expires in the arms of her betrothed husband, a scene wrought up with the greatest tenderness. When the King reproaches Cartismand for this deed of horror, she answers,

Hadst thou been more forgiving, I had been less cruel.

VANOC

Wickedness! barbarian! monster--
What had she done, alas!--Sweet innocence!
She would have interceded for thy crimes.

CARTISMAND

Too well I knew the purpose of thy soul.--
Didst thou believe I would submit?--resign my crown?--
Or that thou only hadst the power to punish?

VANOC

Yet I will punish;--meditate strange torments!--
Then give thee to the justice of the Gods.

CARTISMAND

Thus Vanoc, do I mock thy treasur'd rage.--
My heart springs forward to the dagger's point.

Vanoc

Quick, wrest it from her!--drag her hence to chains.

CARTISMAND

There needs no second stroke--
Adieu, rash man!--my woes are at an end:--
Thine's but begun;--and lasting as thy life.

Mr. Philips in this play has shewn how well he was acquainted with the stage; he keeps the scene perpetually busy; great designs are carrying on, the incidents rise naturally from one another, and the catastrophe is moving. He has not observed the rules which some critics have established, of distributing poetical justice; for Gwendolen, the most amiable character in the play is the chief sufferer, arising from the indulgence of no irregular passion, nor any guilt of hers.

The next year Mr. Philips introduced another tragedy on the stage called Humfrey Duke of Gloucester, acted 1721. The plot of this play is founded on history. During the minority of Henry VI. his uncle, the duke of Gloucester, was raised to the dignity of Regent of the Realm. This high station could not but procure him many enemies, amongst whom was the duke of Suffolk, who, in order to restrain his power, and to inspire the mind of young Henry with a love of independence, effected a marriage between that Prince, and Margaret of Anjou, a Lady of the most consummate beauty, and what is very rare amongst her sex, of the most approved courage. This lady entertained an aversion for the duke of Gloucester, because he opposed her marriage with the King, and accordingly resolves upon his ruin.

She draws over to her party cardinal Beaufort, the Regent's uncle, a supercilious proud churchman. They fell upon a very odd scheme to shake the power of Gloucester, and as it is very singular, and absolutely fact, we shall here insert it.

The duke of Gloucester had kept Eleanor Cobham, daughter to the lord Cobham, as his concubine, and after the dissolution of his marriage with the countess of Hainault, he made her his wife; but this did not restore her reputation: she was, however, too young to pass in common repute for a witch, yet was arrested for high treason, founded on a pretended piece of witchcraft, and after doing public penance several days, by sentence of convocation, was condemned to perpetual imprisonment in the Isle of Man, but afterwards removed to Killingworth-castle. The fact charged upon her, was the making an image of wax resembling the King, and treated in such a manner by incantations, and sorceries, as to make him waste away, as the image gradually consumed. John Hume, her chaplain, Thomas Southwell, a canon of St. Stephen's Westminster, Roger Bolingbroke, a clergyman highly esteemed, and eminent for his uncommon learning, and merit, and perhaps on that account, reputed to have great skill in necromancy, and Margery Jourdemain, commonly called The Witch of Eye, were tried as her accomplices, and condemned, the woman to be burnt, the others to be drawn, hanged, and quartered at Tyburn[2]. This hellish contrivance against the wife of the duke of Gloucester, was meant to shake the influence of her husband, which in reality it did, as ignorance and credulity cooperated with his enemies to destroy him. He was arrested for high treason, a charge which could not be supported, and that his enemies might have no further trouble with him, cardinal Beaufort hired assassins to murder him. The poet acknowledges the hints he has taken from the Second Part of Shakespear's Henry VI, and in some scenes has copied several lines from him. In the last scene, that pathetic speech of Eleanor's to Cardinal Beaufort when he was dying in the agonies of remorse and despair, is literally borrowed.

WARWICK

See how the pangs of death work in his features.

YORK

Disturb him not--let him pass peaceably.

ELEANOR

Lord Cardinal;--if thou think'st of Heaven's bliss
Hold up thy hand;--make signal of that hope.
He dies;--and makes no sign!--

In praise of this tragedy, Mr. Welsted has prefixed a very elegant copy of verses.

Mr. Philips by a way of writing very peculiar, procured to himself the name of Namby Pamby. This was first bestowed on him by Harry Cary, who burlesqued some little pieces of his, in so humorous a manner, that for a long while, Harry's burlesque, passed for Swift's with many; and by others were given to Pope: 'Tis certain, each at first, took it for the other's composition.

In ridicule of this manner, the ingenious Hawkins Brown, Esq; now a Member of Parliament, in his excellent burlesque piece called The Pipe of Tobacco, has written an imitation, in which the resemblance is so great, as not to be distinguished from the original. This gentleman has burlesqued the following eminent authors, by such a close imitation of their turn of verse, that it has not the appearance of a copy, but an original.

SWIFT,

POPE,

THOMSON,

YOUNG,

PHILIPS,

CIBBER.

As a specimen of the delicacy of our author's turn of verification, we shall present the reader with his translation of the following beautiful Ode of Sappho.

Hymn to Venus

1.

O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gayly false, in gentle smiles,
Full of love, perplexing wiles;
O Goddess! from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.

2.

If ever thou hast kindly heard
A song in soft distress preferr'd,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
O gentle goddess! hear me now.
Descend, thou bright immortal guest!
In all thy radiant charms confess'd.

3.

Thou once did leave almighty Jove,
And all the golden roofs above;
The carr thy wanton sparrows drew,
Hov'ring in air, they lightly flew;
As to my bower they wing'd their way,
I saw their quiv'ring pinions play.

4.

The birds dismiss'd (while you remain)
Bore back their empty car again;
Then you, with looks divinely mild,
In ev'ry heav'nly feature smil'd,
And ask'd what new complaints I made,
And why I call'd you to my aid?

5.

What frenzy in my bosom rag'd,
And by what cure to be asswag'd?
What gentle youth I would allure,
Whom in my artful toils secure?
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who!

6.

Tho' now he shuns my longing arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted charms;
Tho' now thy off'rings he despise,
He soon to thee shall sacrifice;
Tho' now he freeze, he soon shall burn,
And be thy victim in his turn.

7.

Celestial visitant once more,
Thy needful presence I implore.
In pity come, and ease my grief,
Bring my distemper'd soul relief,
Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires,
And give me all my heart's desires.

There is another beautiful ode by the same Grecian poetess, rendered into English by Mr. Philips with inexpressible delicacy, quoted in the Spectator, vol. iii,. No. 229.

1.

Blest, as th'immortal Gods is he
The youth who fondly fits by thee,
And hears, and sees thee all the while
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.

2.

'Twas this depriv'd my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast;
For while I gaz'd, in transport tost,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.

3.

My bosom glow'd; the subtle flame
Ran quick thro' all my vital frame,
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung;
My ears with hollow murmurs rung.

4.

In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd;
My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd;
My feeble pulse forgot to play;
I fainted, sunk, and died away.

Mr. Philips having purchased an annuity of 400 l. per annum, for his life, came over to England sometime in the year 1748: But had not his health; and died soon after at his lodgings near Vauxhall.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Vide the ACTOR.

[2] See Cart's History of England, Reign of Henry VI.

* * * * *

RICHARD MAITLAND, EARL OF LAUDERDALE

This learned nobleman was nephew to John, the great duke of Lauderdale, who was secretary of state to King Charles II for Scotch affairs, and for many years had the government of that kingdom entirely entrusted to him. Whoever is acquainted with history will be at no loss to know, with how little moderation he exercised his power; he ruled his native country with a rod of iron, and was the author of all those disturbances and persecutions which have stained the Annals of Scotland, during that inglorious period.

As the duke of Lauderdale was without issue-male of his own body, he took our author into his protection as his immediate heir, and ordered him to be educated in such a manner as to qualify him for the possession of those great employments his ancestors enjoyed in the state. The improvement of this young nobleman so far exceeded his years, that he was very early admitted into the privy council, and made lord justice clerk, anno 1681. He married the daughter of the earl of Argyle, who was tried for sedition in the state, and confined in the castle of Edinburgh. When Argyle found his fate approaching, he meditated, and effected his escape; and some letters of his being intercepted and decyphered, which had been written to the earl of Lauderdale, his lordship fell under a cloud, and was stript of his preferments. These letters were only of a familiar nature, and contained nothing but domestic business; but a correspondence with a person condemned, was esteemed a sin in politics not to be forgiven, especially by a man of the Duke of York's furious disposition.

Though the duke of Lauderdale had ordered our author to be educated as his heir, yet he left all his personal estate, which was very great, to another, the young nobleman having, by some means, disobliged him; and as he was of an ungovernable implacable temper, could never again recover his favour[1]. Though the earl of Lauderdale was thus removed from his places by the court, yet he persisted in his loyalty to the Royal Family, and, upon the revolution, followed the fortune of King James II, and some years after died in France, leaving no surviving issue, so that the titles devolved on his younger brother.

While the earl was in exile with his Royal master, he applied his mind to the delights of poetry, and, in his leisure hours, compleated a translation of Virgil's works. Mr. Dryden, in his dedication of the Aeneis, thus mentions it; 'The late earl of Lauderdale, says he, sent me over his new translation of the Aeneis, which he had ended before I engaged in the same design. Neither did I then intend it, but some proposals being afterwards made me by my Bookseller, I desired his lordship's leave that I might accept them, which he freely granted, and I have his letter to shew for that permission. He resolved to have printed his work, which he might have done two years before I could have published mine; and had performed it, if death had not prevented him. But having his manuscript in my hands, I consulted it as often as I doubted of my author's sense; for no man understood Virgil better than that learned nobleman. His friends have yet another, and more correct copy of that translation by them, which if they had pleased to have given the public, the judges might have been convinced that I have not flattered him.'

Lord Lauderdale's friends, some years after the publication of Dryden's Translation, permitted his lordship's to be printed, and, in the late editions of that performance, those lines are marked with inverted commas, which Dryden thought proper to adopt into his version, which are not many; and however closely his lordship may have rendered Virgil, no man can conceive a high opinion of that poet, contemplated through the medium of his Translation.

Dr. Trapp, in his preface to the Aeneis, observes, 'that his lordship's Translation is pretty near to the original, though not so close as its brevity would make one imagine; and it sufficiently appears, that he had a right taste in poetry in general, and the Aeneid in particular. He shews a true spirit, and, in many places, is very beautiful. But we should certainly have seen Virgil far better translated, by a noble hand, had the earl of Lauderdale been the earl of Roscommon, and had the Scottish peer followed all the precepts, and been animated with the genius of the Irish.'

We know of no other poetical compositions of this learned nobleman, and the idea we have received from history of his character, is, that he was in every respect the reverse of his uncle, from whence we may reasonably conclude, that he possessed many virtues, since few statesmen of any age ever were tainted with more vices than the duke of Lauderdale.

FOOTNOTE: [1] Crawford's Peerage of Scotland.

* * * * *

DR. JOSEPH TRAPP

This poet was second son to the rev. Mr. Joseph Trapp, rector of Cherington in Gloucestershire, at which place he was born, anno 1679. He received the first rudiments of learning from his father, who instructed him in the languages, and superintended his domestic education. When he was ready for the university he was sent to Oxford, and was many years scholar and fellow of Wadham College, where he took the degree of master of arts. In the year 1708 he was unanimously chosen professor of poetry, being the first of that kind. This institution was founded by Dr. Henry Birkhead, formerly fellow of All-Souls, and the place of lecturer can be held only for ten years.

Dr. Trapp was, in the early part of his life, chaplain to lord Bolingbroke, the father of the famous Bolingbroke, lately deceased. The highest preferment Dr. Trapp ever had in the church, though he was a man of extensive learning, was, the rectory of Harlington, Middlesex, and of the united parishes of Christ-Church, Newgate Street, and St. Leonard's Foster-Lane, with the lectureship of St. Lawrence Jewry, and St. Martin's in the Fields. The Dr's principles were not of that cast, by which promotion could be expected. He was attached to the High-Church interest, and as his temper was not sufficiently pliant to yield to the prevalence of party, perhaps for that very reason, his rising in the church was retarded. A gentleman of learning and genius, when paying a visit to the Dr. took occasion to lament, as there had been lately some considerable alterations made, and men less qualified than he, raised to the mitre, that distinctions should be conferred with so little regard to merit, and wondered that he (the Dr.) had never been promoted to a see. To this the Dr. replied, 'I am thought to have some learning, and some honesty, and these are but indifferent qualifications to enable a man to rise in the church.'

Dr. Trapp's action in the pulpit has been censured by many, as participating too much of the theatrical manner, and having more the air of an itinerant enthusiast, than a grave ecclesiastic. Perhaps it may be true, that his pulpit gesticulations were too violent, yet they bore strong expressions of sincerity, and the side on which he erred, was the most favourable to the audience; as the extreme of over-acting any part, is not half so intolerable as a languid indifference, whether what the preacher is then uttering, is true or false, is worth attention or no. The Dr. being once in company with a person, whose profession was that of a player, took occasion to ask him, 'what was the reason that an actor seemed to feel his part with so much sincerity, and utter it with so much emphasis and spirit, while a preacher, whose profession is of a higher nature, and whose doctrines are of the last importance, remained unaffected, even upon the most solemn occasion, while he stood in the pulpit as the ambassador of God, to teach righteousness to the people?' the player replied, 'I believe no other reason can be given, sir, but that we are sincere in our parts, and the preachers are insincere in theirs.' The Dr. could not but acknowledge the truth of this observation in general, and was often heard to complain of the coldness and unaffected indifference of his brethren in those very points, in which it is their business to be sincere and vehement. Would you move your audience, says an ancient sage, you must yourself be moved; and it is a proposition which holds universally true. Dr. Trapp was of opinion, that the highest doctrines of religion were to be considered as infallibly true, and that it was of more importance to impress them strongly on the minds of the audience, to speak to their hearts, and affect their passions, than to bewilder them in disputation, and lead them through labyrinths of controversy, which can yield, perhaps, but little instruction, can never tend to refine the passions, or elevate the mind. Being of this opinion, and from a strong desire of doing good, Dr. Trapp exerted himself in the pulpit, and strove not only to convince the judgment, but to warm the heart, for if passions are the elements of life, they ought to be devoted to the service of religion, as well as the other faculties, and powers of the soul.

But preaching was not the only method by which, this worthy man promoted the interest of religion; he drew the muses into her service, and that he might work upon the hopes and fears of his readers, he has presented them with four poems, on these important subjects; _Death, Judgment, Heaven_, and _Hell._ The reason of his making choice of those themes on which to write, he very fully explains in his preface. He observes, that however dull, and trite it may be to declaim against the corruption of the age one lives in, yet he presumes it will be allowed by every body, that all manner of wickedness, both in principles and practice, abounds amongst men. 'I have lived (says he) in six reigns, but for about these twenty years last past, the English nation has been, and is so prodigiously debauched, its very nature and genius so changed, that I scarce know it to be the English nation, and am almost a foreigner in my own country. Not only barefaced, impudent, immorality of all kinds, but often professed infidelity and atheism. To slop these overflowings of ungodliness, much has been done in prose, yet not so as to supersede all other endeavours: and therefore the author of these poems was willing to try, whether any good might be done in verse. This manner of conveyance may, perhaps, have some advantage, which the other has not; at least it makes variety, which is something considerable. The four last things are manifestly subjects of the utmost importance. If due reflexions upon Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell, will not reclaim men from their vices, nothing will. This little work was intended for the use of all, from the greatest to the least. But as it would have been intolerably flat, and insipid to the former, had it been wholly written in a stile level to the capacities of the latter; to obviate inconveniences on both sides, an attempt has been made to entertain the upper class of readers, and, by notes, to explain such passages in divinity, philosophy, history, &c. as might be difficult to the lower. The work (if it may be so called) being partly argumentative, and partly descriptive, it would have been ridiculous, had it been possible to make the first mentioned as poetical as the other. In long pieces of music there is the plain recitativo, as well as the higher, and more musical modulation, and they mutually recommend, and set off each other. But about these matters the writer is little sollicitous, and otherwise, than as they are subservient to the design of doing good.'

A good man would naturally wish, that such generous attempts, in the cause of virtue, were always successful. With the lower class of readers, it is more than probably that these poems may have inspired religious thoughts, have awaked a solemn dread of punishment, kindled a sacred hope of happiness, and fitted the mind for the four last important period[1]; But with readers of a higher taste, they can have but little effect. There is no doctrine placed in a new light, no descriptions are sufficiently emphatical to work upon a sensible mind, and the perpetual flatness of the poetry is very disgustful to a critical reader, especially, as there were so many occasions of rising to an elevated sublimity.

The Dr. has likewise written a Paraphrase on the 104th Psalm, which, though much superior in poetry to his Four Last Things, yet falls greatly short of that excellent version by Mr. Blacklocke, quoted in the Life of Dr. Brady.

Our author has likewise published four volumes of sermons, and a volume of lectures on poetry, written in Latin.

Before we mention his other poetical compositions, we shall consider him as the translator of Virgil, which is the most arduous province he ever undertook. Dr. Trapp, in his preface, after stating the controversy, which has been long held, concerning the genius of Homer and Virgil, to whom the superiority belongs, has informed us, that this work was very far advanced before it was undertaken, having been, for many years, the diversion of his leisure hours at the university, and grew upon him, by insensible degrees, so that a great part of the Aeneis was actually translated, before he had any design of attempting the whole.

He further informs us, 'that one of the greatest geniuses, and best judges, and critics, our age has produced, Mr. Smith of Christ Church, having seen the first two or three hundred lines of this translation, advised him by all means to go through with it. I said, he laughed at me, replied the Dr. and that I should be the most impudent of mortals to have such a thought. He told me, he was very much in earnest; and asked me why the whole might not be done, in so many years, as well as such a number of lines in so many days? which had no influence upon me, nor did I dream of such an undertaking, 'till being honoured by the university of Oxford with the public office of professor of poetry, which I shall ever gratefully acknowledge, I thought it might not be improper for me to review, and finish this work, which otherwise had certainly been as much neglected by me, as, perhaps, it will now be by every body else.'

As our author has made choice of blank verse, rather than rhime, in order to bear a nearer resemblance to Virgil, he has endeavoured to defend blank verse, against the advocates for rhime, and shew its superiority for any work of length, as it gives the expression a greater compass, or, at least, does not clog and fetter the verse, by which the substance and meaning of a line must often be mutilated, twisted, and sometimes sacrificed for the sake of the rhime.

'Blank verse (says he) is not only more majestic and sublime, but more musical and harmonious. It has more rhime in it, according to the ancient, and true sense of the word, than rhime itself, as it is now used: for, in its original signification, it consists not in the tinkling of vowels and consonants, but in the metrical disposition of words and syllables, and the proper cadence of numbers, which is more agreeable to the ear, without the jingling of like endings, than with it. And, indeed, let a man consult his own ears.

Him th'Almighty pow'r
Hurl'd headlong, flaming from the ætherial sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition; there to dwell
In adamantine chains, and penal fire;
Who durst defy th'Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night

To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquish'd, rowling in the fiery gulph,
Confounded, tho' immortal

Who that hears this, can think it wants rhime to recommend it? or rather does not think it sounds far better without it? We purposely produced a citation, beginning and ending in the middle of a verse, because the privilege of resting on this, or that foot, sometimes one, and sometimes another, and so diversifying the pauses and cadences, is the greatest beauty of blank verse, and perfectly agreeable to the practice of our masters, the Greeks and Romans. This can be done but rarely in rhime; for if it were frequent, the rhime would be in a manner lost by it; the end of almost every verse must be something of a pause; and it is but seldom that a sentence begins in the middle. Though this seems to be the advantage of blank verse over rhime, yet we cannot entirely condemn the use of it, even in a heroic poem; nor absolutely reject that in speculation, which. Mr. Dryden and Mr. Pope have enobled by their practice. We acknowledge too, that in some particular views, what way of writing has the advantage over this. You may pick out mere lines, which, singly considered, look mean and low, from a poem in blank verse, than from one in rhime, supposing them to be in other respects equal. For instance, the following verses out of Milton's Paradise Lost, b. ii.

Of Heav'n were falling, and these elements--
Instinct with fire, and nitre hurried him--

taken singly, look low and mean: but read them in conjunction with others, and then see what a different face will be set upon them.

--Or less than of this frame
Of Heav'n were falling, and these elements
In mutiny had from her axle torn
The stedfast earth. As last his sail-broad vans
He spreads for flight; and in the surging smoke
Uplifted spurns the ground--
--Had not by ill chance
The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud
Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him
As many miles aloft. That fury stay'd;
Quench'd in a boggy syrtis, neither sea,
Nor good dry land: night founder'd on he fares,
Treading the crude consistence.

Our author has endeavoured to justify his choice of blank verse, by shewing it less subject to restraints, and capable of greater sublimity than rhime. But tho' this observation may hold true, with respect to elevated and grand subjects, blank verse is by no means capable of so great universality. In satire, in elegy, or in pastoral writing, our language is, it seems, so feebly constituted, as to stand in need of the aid of rhime; and as a proof of this, the reader need only look upon the pastorals of Virgil, as translated by Trapp in blank verse, and compare them with Dryden's in rhime. He will then discern how insipid and fiat the pastorals of the same poet are in one kind of verification, and how excellent and beautiful in another. Let us give one short example to illustrate the truth of this, from the first pastoral of Virgil.

MELIBÆUS.

Beneath the covert of the spreading beech
Thou, Tityrus, repos'd, art warbling o'er,
Upon a slender reed, thy sylvan lays:
We leave our country, and sweet native fields;
We fly our country: careless in the shade,
Thou teachest, Tityrus, the sounding groves
To eccho beauteous Amaryllis' name.

TITYRUS.

O Melibæus, 'twas a god to us
Indulged this freedom: for to me a god
He shall be ever: from my folds full oft
A tender lamb his altar shall embrue:
He gave my heifers, as thou seest, to roam;
And me permitted on my rural cane
To sport at pleasure, and enjoy my muse,

TRAPP.

MELIBÆUS.