Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III) - Samuel Johnson (classic books to read txt) 📗

Remembered, And, Perhaps, Sometimes

Forgotten, Produce That Particular Designation Of Mind, And Propensity

For Some Certain Science Or Employment, Which Is Commonly Called

Genius. The True Genius Is A Mind Of Large General Powers, Accidentally

Determined to Some Particular Direction. Sir Joshua Reynolds, The Great

Painter Of The Present Age, Had The First Fondness For His Art Excited

By The Perusal Of Richardson'S Treatise.

 

 

 

By His Mother'S Solicitation He Was Admitted into Westminster School,

Where He Was Soon Distinguished. He Was Wont, Says Sprat, To Relate,

"That He Had This Defect In his Memory At That Time, That His Teachers

Never Could Bring it To Retain The Ordinary Rules Of Grammar."

 

 

 

This Is An Instance Of The Natural Desire Of Man To Propagate A Wonder.

It Is, Surely, Very Difficult To Tell Any Thing as It Was Heard, When

Sprat Could Not Refrain From Amplifying a Commodious Incident, Though

The Book To Which He Prefixed his Narrative, Contained its Confutation.

A Memory Admitting some Things And Rejecting others, An Intellectual

Digestion That Concocted the Pulp Of Learning, But Refused the Husks,

Had The Appearance Of An Instinctive Elegance, Of A Particular Provision

Made By Nature For Literary Politeness. But, In the Author'S Own Honest

Relation, The Marvel Vanishes: He Was, He Says, Such "An Enemy To All

Constraint, That His Master Never Could Prevail On Him To Learn The

Rules Without Book." He Does Not Tell, That He Could Not Learn The

Rules; But That, Being able To Perform His Exercises Without Them, And

Being an "Enemy To Constraint," He Spared himself The Labour.

 

 

 

Among The English Poets, Cowley, Milton, And Pope, Might Be Said "To

Lisp In numbers;" And Have Given Such Early Proofs, Not Only Of Powers

Of Language, But Of Comprehension Of Things, As, To More Tardy Minds,

Seems Scarcely Credible. But Of The Learned puerilities Of Cowley There

Is No Doubt, Since A Volume Of His Poems Was Not Only Written, But

Printed, In his Thirteenth Year[6]; Containing, With Other Poetical

Compositions, The Tragical History Of Pyramus And Thisbe, Written When

He Was Ten Years Old; And Constantia And Philetus, Written Two Years

After.

 

 

 

While He Was Yet At School, He Produced a Comedy, Called, Love'S Riddle,

Though It Was Not Published, Till He Had Been Some Time At Cambridge.

This Comedy Is Of The Pastoral Kind, Which Requires No Acquaintance With

The Living world, And, Therefore, The Time At Which It Was Composed adds

Little To The Wonders Of Cowley'S Minority.

 

 

 

In 1636, He Was Removed to Cambridge[7], Where He Continued his Studies

With Great Intenseness; For He Is Said To Have Written, While He Was Yet

A Young Student, The Greater Part Of His Davideis; A Work Of Which The

Materials Could Not Have Been Collected without The Study Of Many Years,

But By A Mind Of The Greatest Vigour And Activity.

 

 

 

Two Years After His Settlement At Cambridge He Published love'S Riddle,

With A Poetical Dedication To Sir Kenelm Digby, Of Whose Acquaintance

All His Contemporaries Seem To Have Been Ambitious; And Naufragium

Joculare, A Comedy, Written In latin, But Without Due Attention To

The Ancient Models; For It Is Not Loose Verse, But Mere Prose. It

Was Printed with A Dedication In verse, To Dr. Comber, Master Of The

College; But, Having neither The Facility Of A Popular, Nor The Accuracy

Of A Learned work, It Seems To Be Now Universally Neglected.

 

 

 

At The Beginning of The Civil War, As The Prince Passed through

Cambridge, In his Way To York, He Was Entertained with A Representation

Of The Guardian, A Comedy, Which, Cowley Says, Was Neither Written Nor

Acted, But Rough-Drawn By Him, And Repeated by The Scholars. That This

Comedy Was Printed during his Absence From His Country, He Appears To

Have Considered as Injurious To His Reputation; Though, During the

Suppression Of The Theatres, It Was Sometimes Privately Acted with

Sufficient Approbation.

 

 

 

In 1643, Being now Master Of Arts, He Was, By The Prevalence Of The

Parliament, Ejected from Cambridge, And Sheltered himself At St. John'S

College, In oxford; Where, As Is Said By Wood, He Published a Satire,

Called the Puritan And Papist, Which Was Only Inserted in the Last

Collection Of His Works[8]; And So Distinguished himself By The Warmth

Of His Loyalty And The Elegance Of His Conversation, That He Gained the

Kindness And Confidence Of Those Who Attended the King, And, Amongst

Others, Of Lord Falkland, Whose Notice Cast A Lustre On All To Whom It

Was Extended.

 

 

 

About The Time When Oxford Was Surrendered to The Parliament, He

Followed the Queen To Paris, Where He Became Secretary To The Lord

Jermyn, Afterwards Earl Of St. Alban'S, And Was Employed in such

Correspondence As The Royal Cause Required, And Particularly In

Ciphering and Deciphering the Letters That Passed between The King and

Queen; An Employment Of The Highest Confidence And Honour. So Wide Was

His Province Of Intelligence, That, For Several Years, It Filled all His

Days And Two Or Three Nights In the Week.

 

 

 

In The Year 1647, His Mistress Was Published; For He Imagined, As

He Declared in his Preface To A Subsequent Edition, That "Poets Are

Scarcely Thought Freemen Of Their Company Without Paying some Duties, Or

Obliging themselves To Be True To Love."

 

 

 

This Obligation To Amorous Ditties Owes, I Believe, Its Original To The

Fame Of Petrarch, Who, In an Age Rude And Uncultivated, By His Tuneful

Homage To His Laura, Refined the Manners Of The Lettered world, And

Filled europe With Love And Poetry. But The Basis Of All Excellence Is

Truth: He That Professes Love Ought To Feel Its Power. Petrarch Was A

Real Lover, And Laura Doubtless Deserved his Tenderness. Of Cowley, We

Are Told By Barnes, Who Had Means Enough Of Information, That, Whatever

He May Talk Of His Own Inflammability, And The Variety Of Characters By

Which His Heart Was Divided, He, In reality, Was In love But Once, And

Then Never Had Resolution To Tell His Passion.

 

 

 

This Consideration Cannot But, Abate, In some Measure, The Reader'S

Esteem For The Work And The Author. To Love Excellence Is Natural; It

Is Natural, Likewise, For The Lover To Solicit Reciprocal Regard By An

Elaborate Display Of His Own Qualifications. The Desire Of Pleasing has,

In Different Men, Produced actions Of Heroism, And Effusions Of Wit; But

It Seems As Reasonable To Appear The Champion As The Poet Of An "Airy

Nothing," And To Quarrel As To Write For What Cowley Might Have Learned

From His Master Pindar, To Call "The Dream Of A Shadow."

 

 

 

It Is Surely Not Difficult, In the Solitude Of A College, Or In the

Bustle Of The World, To Find Useful Studies And Serious Employment. No

Man Needs To Be So Burdened with Life, As To Squander It In voluntary

Dreams Of Fictitious Occurrences. The Man That Sits Down To Suppose

Himself Charged with Treason Or Peculation, And Heats His Mind To An

Elaborate Purgation Of His Character From Crimes Which He Was Never

Within The Possibility Of Committing, Differs Only By The Infrequency Of

His Folly From Him Who Praises Beauty Which He Never Saw; Complains Of

Jealousy Which He Never Felt; Supposes Himself Sometimes Invited, And

Sometimes Forsaken; Fatigues His Fancy, And Ransacks His Memory, For

Images Which May Exhibit The Gaiety Of Hope, Or The Gloominess Of

Despair; And Dresses His Imaginary Chloris Or Phyllis, Sometimes In

Flowers Fading as Her Beauty, And Sometimes In gems Lasting as Her

Virtues.

 

 

 

At Paris, As Secretary To Lord Jermyn, He Was Engaged in transacting

Things Of Real Importance With Real Men And Real Women, And, At That

Time, Did Not Much Employ His Thoughts Upon Phantoms Of Gallantry. Some

Of His Letters To Mr. Bennet, Afterwards Earl Of Arlington, From April

To December, In 1650, Are Preserved in miscellanea Aulica, A Collection

Of Papers, Published by Brown. These Letters, Being written, Like Those

Of Other Men, Whose Minds Are More On Things Than Words, Contribute No

Otherwise To His Reputation, Than As They Show Him To Have Been Above

The Affectation Of Unseasonable Elegance, And To Have Known, That The

Business Of A Statesman Can Be Little Forwarded by Flowers Of Rhetorick.

One Passage, However, Seems Not Unworthy Of Some Notice. Speaking of The

Scotch Treaty, Then In agitation: "The Scotch Treaty," Says He, "Is The

Only Thing now In which We Are Vitally Concerned; I Am One Of The Last

Hopers, And Yet Cannot Now Abstain From Believing that An Agreement Will

Be Made; All People Upon The Place Incline To That Of Union. The Scotch

Will Moderate Something of The Rigour Of Their Demands; The Mutual

Necessity Of An Accord Is Visible, The King is Persuaded of It. And, To

Tell You The Truth, Which I Take To Be An Argument Above All The Rest,

Virgil Has Told The Same Thing to That Purpose."

 

 

 

This Expression From A Secretary Of The Present Time Would Be Considered

As Merely Ludicrous, Or, At Most, As An Ostentatious Display Of

Scholarship; But The Manners Of That Time Were So Tinged with

Superstition, That I Cannot But Suspect Cowley Of Having consulted,

On This Great Occasion, The Virgilian Lots[9], And To Have Given Some

Credit To The Answer Of His Oracle.

 

 

 

Some Years Afterwards, "Business," Says Sprat, "Passed of Course Into

Other Hands;" And Cowley, Being no Longer Useful At Paris, Was, In 1656,

Sent Back Into England, That, "Under Pretence Of Privacy And Retirement,

He Might Take Occasion Of Giving notice Of The Posture Of Things In this

Nation."

 

 

 

Soon After His Return To London, He Was Seized by Some Messengers Of The

Usurping powers, Who Were Sent Out In quest Of Another Man; And, Being

Examined, Was Put Into Confinement, From Which He Was Not Dismissed

Without The Security Of A Thousand Pounds, Given By Dr. Scarborough.

 

 

 

This Year He Published his Poems, With A Preface, In which He Seems To

Have Inserted something suppressed in subsequent Editions, Which Was

Interpreted to Denote Some Relaxation Of His Loyalty. In this Preface He

Declares, That "His Desire Had Been For Some Days Past, And Did Still

Very Vehemently Continue, To Retire Himself To Some Of The American

Plantations, And To Forsake This World For Ever."

 

 

 

From The Obloquy Which The Appearance Of Submission To The Usurpers

Brought Upon Him, His Biographer Has Been Very Diligent To Clear Him,

And, Indeed, It Does Not Seem To Have Lessened his Reputation. His Wish

For Retirement We Can Easily Believe To Be Undissembled; A Man Harassed

In One Kingdom, And Persecuted in another, Who, After A Course Of

Business That Employed all His Days, And Half His Nights, In ciphering

And Deciphering, Comes To His Own Country, And Steps Into A Prison, Will

Be Willing enough To Retire To Some Place Of Quiet And Of Safety. Yet

Let Neither Our Reverence For A Genius, Nor Our Pity For A Sufferer,

Dispose Us To Forget, That, If His Activity Was Virtue, His Retreat Was

Cowardice[10].

 

 

 

He Then Took Upon Himself The Character Of Physician, Still, According

To Sprat, With Intention "To Dissemble The Main Design Of His Coming

Over;" And, As Mr. Wood Relates, "Complying with The Men Then In power,

Which Was Much Taken Notice Of By The Royal Party, He Obtained an Order

To Be Created doctor Of Physick; Which Being done To His Mind, Whereby

He Gained the Ill Will Of Some Of His Friends, He Went Into France

Again, Having made A Copy Of Verses On Oliver'S Death."

 

 

 

This Is No Favourable Representation, Yet Even In this Not Much Wrong

Can Be Discovered. How Far He Complied with The Men In power, Is To Be

Inquired before He Can Be Blamed. It Is Not Said, That He Told Them Any

Secrets, Or Assisted them By Intelligence Or Any Other Act. If He Only

Promised to Be Quiet, That They In whose Hands He Was Might Free Him

From Confinement, He Did What No Law Of Society Prohibits.

 

 

 

The Man Whose Miscarriage In a Just Cause Has Put Him In the Power

Of His Enemy May, Without Any Violation Of His Integrity, Regain His

Liberty, Or Preserve His Life, By A Promise Of Neutrality; For, The

Stipulation Gives The Enemy Nothing which He Had Not Before: The

Neutrality Of A Captive May Be Always Secured by His Imprisonment Or

Death. He That Is At The Disposal Of Another May Not Promise To Aid Him

In Any Injurious Act, Because No Power Can Compel Active Obedience. He

May Engage To Do Nothing, But Not To Do Ill.

 

 

 

There Is Reason To Think That Cowley Promised little. It Does Not Appear

That His Compliance Gained him Confidence Enough To Be Trusted without

Security, For The Bond Of His Bail Was Never Cancelled; Nor That It Made

Him Think Himself Secure, For, At That Dissolution Of Government Which

Followed the Death Of Oliver, He Returned into France, Where He Resumed

His Former Station, And Staid Till The Restoration[11].

 

 

 

"He Continued," Says His Biographer, "Under These Bonds, Till The

General Deliverance;" It Is, Therefore, To Be Supposed, That