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

Which, I Hope, Is Now Rescued from Dilapidation.

 

 

 

He Left Several Children By His Second Wife; Of Whom, His Daughter Was

Married to Dr. Birch. Benjamin, The Eldest Son, Was Disinherited, And

Sent To New Jersey, As Wanting common Understanding. Edmund, The Second

Son, Inherited the Estate, And Represented agmondesham In parliament,

But, At Last, Turned quaker. William, The Third Son, Was A Merchant In

London. Stephen, The Fourth, Was An Eminent Doctor Of Laws, And One Of

The Commissioners For The Union. There Is Said To Have Been A Fifth, Of

Whom No Account Has Descended.

 

 

 

The Character Of Waller, Both Moral And Intellectual, Has Been Drawn By

Clarendon, To Whom He Was Familiarly Known, With Nicety, Which Certainly

None To Whom He Was Not Known Can Presume To Emulate. It Is, Therefore,

Inserted here, With Such Remarks As Others Have Supplied; After Which,

Nothing remains But A Critical Examination Of His Poetry.

 

 

 

"Edmund Waller," Says Clarendon, "Was Born To A Very Fair Estate, By The

Parsimony, Or Frugality, Of A Wise Father And Mother: And He Thought It

So Commendable An Advantage, That He Resolved to Improve It With His

Utmost Care, Upon Which, In his Nature, He Was Too Much Intent; And, In

Order To That, He Was So Much Reserved and Retired, That He Was Scarce

Ever Heard Of, Till, By His Address And Dexterity, He Had Gotten A Very

Rich Wife In the City, Against All The Recommendation And Countenance And

Authority Of The Court, Which Was Thoroughly Engaged on The Behalf Of

Mr. Crofts, And Which Used to Be Successful, In that Age, Against Any

Opposition. He Had The Good Fortune To Have An Alliance And Friendship

With Dr. Morley, Who Had Assisted and Instructed him In the Reading many

Good Books, To Which His Natural Parts And Promptitude Inclined him,

Especially The Poets; And, At The Age When Other Men Used to Give Over

Writing verses, (For He Was Near Thirty Years When He First Engaged

Himself In that Exercise, At Least That He Was Known To Do So,) He

Surprised the Town With Two Or Three Pieces Of That Kind; As If A Tenth

Muse Had Been Newly Born To Cherish Drooping poetry. The Doctor, At That

Time, Brought Him Into That Company Which Was Most Celebrated for Good

Conversation; Where He Was Received and Esteemed with Great Applause And

Respect. He Was A Very Pleasant Discourser, In earnest And In jest, And,

Therefore, Very Grateful To All Kind Of Company, Where He Was Not The

Less Esteemed for Being very Rich.

 

 

 

"He Had Been Even Nursed in parliaments, Where He Sat When He Was Very

Young; And So, When They Were Resumed again, (After A Long Intermission,)

He Appeared in those Assemblies With Great Advantage; Having a Graceful

Way Of Speaking, And By Thinking much On Several Arguments, (Which His

Temper And Complexion, That Had Much Of Melancholick, Inclined him To,)

He Seemed often To Speak Upon The Sudden, When The Occasion Had Only

Administered the Opportunity Of Saying what He Had Thoroughly Considered,

Which Gave A Great Lustre To All He Said; Which Yet Was Rather Of Delight

Than Weight. There Needs No More Be Said To Extol The Excellence And

Power Of His Wit, And Pleasantness Of His Conversation, Than That It Was

Of Magnitude Enough To Cover A World Of Very Great Faults; That Is, So To

Cover Them, That They Were Not Taken Notice Of To His Reproach; Viz. A

Narrowness In his Nature To The Lowest Degree; An Abjectness And Want Of

Courage To Support Him In any Virtuous Undertaking; An Insinuation And

Servile Flattery To The Height, The Vainest And Most Imperious Nature

Could Be Contented with; That It Preserved and Won His Life From Those

Who Were Most Resolved to Take It, And In an Occasion In which He Ought

To Have Been Ambitious To Have Lost It; And Then Preserved him Again From

The Reproach And Contempt That Was Due To Him For So Preserving it, And

For Vindicating it At Such A Price; That It Had Power To Reconcile Him To

Those Whom He Had Most Offended and Provoked; And Continued to His Age

With That Rare Felicity, That His Company Was Acceptable Where His Spirit

Was Odious; And He Was, At Least, Pitied where He Was Most Detested."

 

 

 

Such Is The Account Of Clarendon; On Which It May Not Be Improper To Make

Some Remarks.

 

 

 

"He Was Very Little Known Till He Had Obtained a Rich Wife In the City."

 

 

 

He Obtained a Rich Wife About The Age Of Three-And-Twenty; An Age Before

Which Few Men Are Conspicuous Much To Their Advantage. He Was Known,

However, In parliament And At Court; And, If He Spent Part Of His Time

In Privacy, It Is Not Unreasonable To Suppose, That He Endeavoured the

Improvement Of His Mind, As Well As Of His Fortune.

 

 

 

That Clarendon Might Misjudge The Motive Of His Retirement Is The More

Probable, Because He Has Evidently Mistaken The Commencement Of His

Poetry, Which He Supposes Him Not To Have Attempted before Thirty. As

His First Pieces Were, Perhaps, Not Printed, The Succession Of His

Compositions Was Not Known; And Clarendon, Who Cannot Be Imagined to

Have Been Very Studious Of Poetry, Did Not Rectify His First Opinion By

Consulting waller'S Book.

 

 

 

Clarendon Observes, That He Was Introduced to The Wits Of The Age By Dr.

Morley; But The Writer Of His Life Relates That He Was Already Among

Them, When, Hearing a Noise In the Street, And Inquiring the Cause, They

Found A Son Of Ben Jonson Under An Arrest. This Was Morley, Whom Waller

Set Free, At The Expense Of One Hundred pounds, Took Him Into The Country

As Director Of His Studies, And Then Procured him Admission Into The

Company Of The Friends Of Literature. Of This Fact Clarendon Had A Nearer

Knowledge Than The Biographer, And Is, Therefore, More To Be Credited.

 

 

 

The Account Of Waller'S Parliamentary Eloquence Is Seconded by Burnet,

Who, Though He Calls Him "The Delight Of The House," Adds, That "He Was

Only Concerned to Say That Which Should Make Him Be Applauded; He Never

Laid The Business Of The House To Heart, Being a Vain And Empty, Though A

Witty Man."

 

 

 

Of His Insinuation And Flattery It Is Not Unreasonable To Believe That

The Truth Is Told. Ascham, In his Elegant Description Of Those Whom, In

Modern Language, We Term Wits, Says, That They Are "Open Flatterers, And

Privy Mockers." Waller Showed a Little Of Both, When, Upon Sight Of The

Dutchess Of Newcastle'S Verses On The Death Of A Stag, He Declared that

He Would Give All His Own Compositions To Have Written Them; And, Being

Charged with The Exorbitance Of His Adulation, Answered, That "Nothing

Was Too Much To Be Given, That A Lady Might Be Saved from The Disgrace Of

Such A Vile Performance." This, However, Was No Very Mischievous Or Very

Unusual Deviation From Truth: Had His Hypocrisy Been Confined to Such

Transactions, He Might Have Been Forgiven, Though Not Praised; For Who

Forbears To Flatter An Author Or A Lady.

 

 

 

Of The Laxity Of His Political Principles, And The Weakness Of His

Resolution, He Experienced the Natural Effect, By Losing the Esteem Of

Every Party. From Cromwell He Had Only His Recall; And From Charles The

Second, Who Delighted in his Company, He Obtained only The Pardon Of His

Relation Hampden, And The Safety Of Hampden'S Son.

 

 

 

As Far As Conjecture Can Be Made From The Whole Of His Writing, And His

Conduct, He Was Habitually And Deliberately A Friend To Monarchy. His

Deviation Towards Democracy Proceeded from His Connexion With Hampden,

For Whose Sake He Prosecuted crawley With Great Bitterness; And The

Invective Which He Pronounced on That Occasion Was So Popular, That

Twenty Thousand Copies Are Said, By His Biographer, To Have Been Sold In

One Day.

 

 

 

It Is Confessed that His Faults Still Left Him Many Friends, At Least

Many Companions. His Convivial Power Of Pleasing is Universally

Acknowledged; But Those Who Conversed with Him Intimately, Found Him Not

Only Passionate, Especially In his Old Age, But Resentful; So That The

Interposition Of Friends Was Sometimes Necessary.

 

 

 

His Wit And His Poetry Naturally Connected him With The Polite Writers

Of His Time: He Was Joined with Lord Buckhurst In the Translation Of

Corneille'S Pompey; And Is Said To Have Added his Help To That Of Cowley

In The Original Draught Of The Rehearsal.

 

 

 

The Care Of His Fortune, Which Clarendon Imputes To Him, In a Degree

Little Less Than Criminal, Was Either Not Constant Or Not Successful;

For, Having inherited a Patrimony Of Three Thousand Five Hundred pounds A

Year In the Time Of James The First, And Augmented it, At Least, By One

Wealthy Marriage, He Left, About The Time Of The Revolution, An Income Of

Not More Than Twelve Or Thirteen Hundred; Which, When The Different Value

Of Money Is Reckoned, Will Be Found, Perhaps, Not More Than A Fourth Part

Of What He Once Possessed.

 

 

 

Of This Diminution, Part Was The Consequence Of The Gifts Which He Was

Forced to Scatter, And The Fine Which He Was Condemned to Pay At The

Detection Of His Plot; And If His Estate, As Is Related in his Life, Was

Sequestered, He Had Probably Contracted debts When He Lived in exile;

For We Are Told, That At Paris He Lived in splendour, And Was The Only

Englishman, Except The Lord St. Albans, That Kept A Table.

 

 

 

His Unlucky Plot Compelled him To Sell A Thousand A Year; Of The Waste

Of The Rest There Is No Account, Except That He Is Confessed, By His

Biographer, To Have Been A Bad Economist. He Seems To Have Deviated from

The Common Practice; To Have Been A Hoarder In his First Years, And A

Squanderer In his Last.

 

 

 

Of His Course Of Studies, Or Choice Of Books, Nothing is Known More Than

That He Professed himself Unable To Read Chapman'S Translation Of Homer,

Without Rapture. His Opinion Concerning the Duty Of A Poet Is Contained

In His Declaration, That "He Would Blot From His Works Any Line That Did

Not Contain Some Motive To Virtue."

 

 

 

       *       *       *       *       *

The Characters, By Which Waller Intended to Distinguish His Writings, Are

Sprightliness And Dignity; In his Smaller Pieces, He Endeavours To Be

Gay; In the Larger, To Be Great. Of His Airy And Light Productions, The

Chief Source Is Gallantry, That Attentive Reverence Of Female Excellence

Which Has Descended to Us From The Gothick Ages. As His Poems Are

Commonly Occasional, And His Addresses Personal, He Was Not So Liberally

Supplied with Grand As With Soft Images; For Beauty Is More Easily Found

Than Magnanimity.

 

 

 

The Delicacy Which He Cultivated, Restrains Him To A Certain Nicety

And Caution, Even When He Writes Upon The Slightest Matter. He Has,

Therefore, In his Whole Volume, Nothing burlesque, And Seldom Any Thing

Ludicrous Or Familiar. He Seems Always To Do His Best; Though His

Subjects Are Often Unworthy Of His Care. It Is Not Easy To Think Without

Some Contempt On An Author Who Is Growing illustrious In his Own Opinion

By Verses, At One Time, To A Lady Who Can Do Any Thing but Sleep When She

Pleases; At Another, To A Lady Who Can Sleep When She Pleases; Now, To A

Lady On Her Passing through A Crowd Of People; Then, On A Braid Of Divers

Colours, Woven By Four Fair Ladies; On A Tree Cut In paper; Or, To A

Lady, From Whom He Received the Copy Of Verses On The Paper Tree, Which

For Many Years Had Been Missing.

 

 

 

Genius Now And Then Produces A Lucky Trifle. We Still Read The Dove Of

Anacreon, And Sparrow Of Catullus; And A Writer Naturally Pleases Himself

With A Performance, Which Owes Nothing to The Subject. But Compositions

Merely Pretty Have The Fate Of Other Pretty Things, And Are Quitted in

Time For Something useful: They Are Flowers Fragrant And Fair, But Of

Short Duration; Or They Are Blossoms To Be Valued only As They Foretell

Fruits. Among Waller'S Little Poems Are Some Which Their Excellency Ought

To Secure From Oblivion; As, To Amoret, Comparing the Different Modes

Of Regard, With Which He Looks On Her And Sacharissa; And The Verses On

Love, That Begin, "Anger In hasty Words Or Blows."

 

 

 

In Others He Is Not Equally Successful; Sometimes His Thoughts Are

Deficient, And Sometimes His Expression.

 

 

 

The Numbers Are Not Always Musical; As,

 

 

 

  Fair Venus, In thy Soft Arms

  The God Of Rage Confine:

  For Thy Whispers Are The Charms

  Which Only Can Divert His Fierce Design.

  What Though He Frown, And To Tumult Do Incline;

  Thou The Flame

  Kindled in his Breast Canst Tame

  With That Snow Which Unmelted lies On Thine.

 

 

 

He Seldom, Indeed, Fetches An Amorous Sentiment From The Depths Of

Science; His Thoughts Are, For The Most Part, Easily Understood, And His

Images Such As The Superficies Of Nature Readily Supplies; He