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

Subject To Have Strongly Fixed the Publick Attention.

 

 

 

In The Two First Dialogues Bayes Is Brought Into The Company Of Crites

And Eugenius, With Whom He Had Formerly Debated on Dramatick Poetry. The

Two Talkers In the Third Are Mr. Bayes And Mr. Hains.

 

 

 

Brown Was A Man Not Deficient In literature, Nor Destitute Of Fancy; But

He Seems To Have Thought It The Pinnacle Of Excellence To Be A _Merry

Fellow_; And, Therefore, Laid Out His Powers Upon Small Jests Or Gross

Buffoonery; So That His Performances Have Little Intrinsick Value, And

Were Read Only While They Were Recommended by The Novelty Of The Event

That Occasioned them. These Dialogues Are Like His Other Works: What

Sense Or Knowledge They Contain Is Disgraced by The Garb In which It Is

Exhibited. One Great Source Of Pleasure Is To Call Dryden "Little Bayes."

Ajax, Who Happens To Be Mentioned, Is "He That Wore As Many Cow-Hides

Upon His Shield As Would Have Furnished half The King'S Army With

Shoe-Leather."

 

 

 

Being asked whether He Had Seen The Hind And Panther, Crites Answers:

"Seen It! Mr. Bayes, Why I Can Stir Nowhere But It Pursues Me; It Haunts

Me Worse Than A Pewter-Buttoned serjeant Does A Decayed cit. Sometimes I

Meet It In a Bandbox, When My Laundress Brings Home My Linen; Sometimes,

Whether I Will Or No, It Lights My Pipe At A Coffee-House; Sometimes It

Surprises Me In a Trunkmaker'S Shop; And Sometimes It Refreshes My Memory

For Me On The Backside Of A Chancery Lane Parcel. For Your Comfort Too,

Mr. Bayes, I Have Not Only Seen It, As You May Perceive, But Have Read It

Too, And Can Quote It As Freely Upon Occasion As A Frugal Tradesman

Can Quote That Noble Treatise The Worth Of A Penny, To His Extravagant

'Prentice, That Revels In stewed apples And Penny Custards."

 

 

 

The Whole Animation Of These Compositions Arises From A Profusion Of

Ludicrous And Affected comparisons. "To Secure One'S Chastity," Says

Bayes, "Little More Is Necessary Than To Leave Off A Correspondence With

The Other Sex, Which, To A Wise Man, Is No Greater A Punishment Than It

Would Be To A Fanatick Parson To Be Forbid Seeing the Cheats And The

Committee; Or For My Lord Mayor And Aldermen To Be Interdicted the Sight

Of The London Cuckold." This Is The General Strain, And, Therefore, I

Shall Be Easily Excused the Labour Of More Transcription.

 

 

 

Brown Does Not Wholly Forget Past Transactions: "You Began," Says Crites

To Bayes, "With A Very Indifferent Religion, And Have Not Mended the

Matter In your Last Choice. It Was But Reason That Your Muse, Which

Appeared first In a Tyrant'S Quarrel, Should Employ Her Last Efforts To

Justify The Usurpations Of The Hind." Next Year The Nation Was Summoned

To Celebrate The Birth Of The Prince. Now Was The Time For Dryden To

Rouse His Imagination, And Strain His Voice. Happy Days Were At Hand,

And He Was Willing to Enjoy And Diffuse The Anticipated blessings. He

Published a Poem, Filled with Predictions Of Greatness And Prosperity;

Predictions Of Which It Is Not Necessary To Tell How They Have Been

Verified.

 

 

 

A Few Months Passed after These Joyful Notes, And Every Blossom Of Popish

Hope Was Blasted for Ever By The Revolution. A Papist Now Could Be No

Longer Laureate. The Revenue, Which He Had Enjoyed with So Much Pride And

Praise, Was Transferred to Shadwell, An Old Enemy, Whom He Had Formerly

Stigmatised by The Name Of Og. Dryden Could Not Decently Complain That He

Was Deposed; But Seemed very Angry That Shadwell Succeeded him, And Has,

Therefore, Celebrated the Intruder'S Inauguration In a Poem Exquisitely

Satirical, Called mac Flecknoe[114]; Of Which The Dunciad, As Pope

Himself Declares, Is An Imitation, Though More Extended in its Plan, And

More Diversified in its Incidents.

 

 

 

It Is Related by Prior, That Lord Dorset, When, As Chamberlain, He Was

Constrained to Eject Dryden From His Office, Gave Him, From His Own

Purse, An Allowance Equal To The Salary. This Is No Romantick Or

Incredible Act Of Generosity; A Hundred a Year Is Often Enough Given To

Claims Less Cogent, By Men Less Famed for Liberality. Yet Dryden Always

Represented himself As Suffering under A Publick Infliction; And Once

Particularly Demands Respect For The Patience With Which He Endured the

Loss Of His Little Fortune. His Patron Might, Indeed, Enjoin Him To

Suppress His Bounty; But, If He Suffered nothing, He Should Not Have

Complained.

 

 

 

During the Short Reign Of King james, He Had Written Nothing for

The Stage[115], Being, In his Opinion, More Profitably Employed in

Controversy And Flattery. Of Praise He Might, Perhaps, Have Been Less

Lavish Without Inconvenience, For James Was Never Said To Have Much

Regard For Poetry: He Was To Be Flattered only By Adopting his Religion.

 

 

 

Times Were Now Changed: Dryden Was No Longer The Court-Poet, And Was To

Look Back For Support To His Former Trade; And Having waited about Two

Years, Either Considering himself As Discountenanced by The Publick,

Perhaps Expecting a Second Revolution, He Produced don Sebastian In 1690;

And In the Next Four Years Four Dramas More.

 

 

 

In 1693 Appeared a New Version Of Juvenal And Persius. Of Juvenal, He

Translated the First, Third, Sixth, Tenth, And Sixteenth Satires; And Of

Persius, The Whole Work. On This Occasion, He Introduced his Two Sons To

The Publick, As Nurslings Of The Muses. The Fourteenth Of Juvenal Was The

Work Of John, And The Seventh Of Charles Dryden. He Prefixed a Very Ample

Preface, In the Form Of A Dedication To Lord Dorset; And There Gives An

Account Of The Design Which He Had Once Formed to Write An Epick Poem On

The Actions Either Of Arthur Or The Black Prince. He Considered the

Epick As Necessarily Including some Kind Of Supernatural Agency, And Had

Imagined a New Kind Of Contest Between The Guardian Angels Of Kingdoms,

Of Whom He Conceived that Each Might Be Represented zealous For His

Charge, Without Any Intended opposition To The Purposes Of The Supreme

Being, Of Which All Created minds Must In part Be Ignorant.

 

 

 

This Is The Most Reasonable Scheme Of Celestial Interposition That Ever

Was Formed. The Surprises And Terrours Of Enchantments, Which Have

Succeeded to The Intrigues And Oppositions Of Pagan Deities, Afford Very

Striking scenes, And Open A Vast Extent To The Imagination; But, As

Boileau Observes, (And Boileau Will Be Seldom Found Mistaken,) With This

Incurable Defect, That, In a Contest Between Heaven And Hell, We Know At

The Beginning which Is To Prevail; For This Reason We Follow Rinaldo To

The Enchanted wood With More Curiosity Than Terrour.

 

 

 

In The Scheme Of Dryden There Is One Great Difficulty, Which Yet He

Would, Perhaps, Have Had Address Enough To Surmount. In a War, Justice

Can Be But On One Side; And, To Entitle The Hero To The Protection Of

Angels, He Must Fight In the Defence Of Indubitable Right. Yet Some

Of The Celestial Beings, Thus Opposed to Each Other, Must Have Been

Represented as Defending guilt.

 

 

 

That This Poem Was Never Written, Is Reasonably To Be Lamented. It Would,

Doubtless, Have Improved our Numbers, And Enlarged our Language; And

Might, Perhaps, Have Contributed, By Pleasing instruction, To Rectify Our

Opinions, And Purify Our Manners.

 

 

 

What He Required as The Indispensable Condition Of Such An Undertaking, A

Publick Stipend, Was Not Likely, In those Times, To Be Obtained. Riches

Were Not Become Familiar To Us; Nor Had The Nation Yet Learned to Be

Liberal.

 

 

 

This Plan He Charged blackmore With Stealing; "Only," Says He, "The

Guardian Angels Of Kingdoms Were Machines Too Ponderous For Him To

Manage."

 

 

 

In 1694, He Began The Most Laborious And Difficult Of All His Works, The

Translation Of Virgil; From Which He Borrowed two Months, That He Might

Turn Fresnoy'S Art Of Painting into English Prose. The Preface, Which He

Boasts To Have Written In twelve Mornings, Exhibits A Parallel Of Poetry

And Painting, With A Miscellaneous Collection Of Critical Remarks, Such

As Cost A Mind, Stored like His, No Labour To Produce Them.

 

 

 

In 1697, He Published his Version Of The Works Of Virgil; And, That No

Opportunity Of Profit Might Be Lost, Dedicated the Pastorals To The Lord

Clifford, The Georgicks To The Earl Of Chesterfield, And The Aeneid To The

Earl Of Mulgrave. This Economy Of Flattery, At Once Lavish And Discreet,

Did Not Pass Without Observation.

 

 

 

This Translation Was Censured by Milbourne, A Clergyman, Styled, By Pope,

"The Fairest Of Criticks," Because He Exhibited his Own Version To Be

Compared with That Which He Condemned.

 

 

 

His Last Work Was His Fables, Published in 1699, In consequence, As Is

Supposed, Of A Contract Now In the Hands Of Mr. Tonson; By Which He

Obliged himself, In considerationof Three Hundred pounds, To Finish For

The Press Ten Thousand Verses.

 

 

 

In This Volume Is Comprised the Well-Known Ode On St. Cecilia'S Day,

Which, As Appeared by A Letter Communicated to Dr. Birch, He Spent A

Fortnight In composing and Correcting. But What Is This To The Patience

And Diligence Of Boileau, Whose Equivoque, A Poem Of Only Three Hundred

And Forty-Six Lines, Took From His Life Eleven Months To Write It, And

Three Years To Revise It?

 

 

 

Part Of This Book Of Fables Is The First Iliad In english, Intended as A

Specimen Of A Version Of The Whole. Considering into What Hands Homer Was

To Fall, The Reader Cannot But Rejoice That This Project Went No Further.

 

 

 

The Time Was Now At Hand Which Was To Put An End To All His Schemes And

Labours. On The First Of May, 1701, Having been Some Time, As He Tells

Us, A Cripple In his Limbs, He Died, In gerard Street, Of A Mortification

In His Leg.

 

 

 

There Is Extant A Wild Story Relating to Some Vexatious Events That

Happened at His Funeral, Which, At The End Of Congreve'S Life, By A

Writer Of I Know Not What Credit, Are Thus Related, As I Find The Account

Transferred to A Biographical Dictionary[116].

 

 

 

"Mr. Dryden Dying on The Wednesday Morning, Dr. Thomas Sprat, Then Bishop

Of Rochester And Dean Of Westminster, Sent The Next Day To The Lady

Elizabeth Howard, Mr. Dryden'S Widow, That He Would Make A Present Of The

Ground, Which Was Forty Pounds, With All The Other Abbey Fees. The Lord

Halifax, Likewise, Sent To The Lady Elizabeth, And Mr. Charles Dryden

Her Son, That, If They Would Give Him Leave To Bury Mr. Dryden, He Would

Inter Him With A Gentleman'S Private Funeral, And Afterwards Bestow Five

Hundred pounds On A Monument In the Abbey; Which, As They Had No Reason

To Refuse, They Accepted. On The Saturday Following the Company Came:

The Corpse Was Put Into A Velvet Hearse; And Eighteen Mourning coaches,

Filled with Company, Attended. When They Were Just Ready To Move, The

Lord Jefferies, Son Of The Lord Chancellor Jefferies, With Some Of His

Rakish Companions, Coming by, Asked whose Funeral It Was; And, Being

Told Mr. Dryden'S, He Said, 'What, Shall Dryden, The Greatest Honour

And Ornament Of The Nation, Be Buried after This Private Manner! No,

Gentlemen, Let All That Loved mr. Dryden, And Honour His Memory, Alight

And Join With Me In gaining my Lady'S Consent To Let Me Have The Honour

Of His Interment, Which Shall Be After Another Manner Than This; And I

Will Bestow A Thousand Pounds On A Monument In the Abbey For Him.' The

Gentlemen In the Coaches, Not Knowing of The Bishop Of Rochester'S

Favour, Nor Of The Lord Halifax'S Generous Design, (They Both Having, Out

Of Respect To The Family, Enjoined the Lady Elizabeth And Her Son To

Keep Their Favour Concealed to The World, And Let It Pass For Their Own

Expense,) Readily Came Out Of The Coaches, And Attended lord Jefferies Up

To The Lady'S Bedside, Who Was Then Sick. He Repeated the Purport Of What

He Had Before Said; But She Absolutely Refusing, He Fell On His Knees,

Vowing never To Rise Till His Request Was Granted. The Rest Of The

Company, By His Desire, Kneeled also; And The Lady, Being under A Sudden

Surprise, Fainted away. As Soon As She Recovered her Speech, She Cried,

'No, No.' 'Enough, Gentlemen,' Replied he; 'My Lady Is Very Good; She

Says, Go, Go.' She Repeated her Former Words With All Her Strength, But

In Vain, For Her Feeble Voice Was Lost In their Acclamations Of Joy;

And The Lord Jefferies Ordered the Horsemen To Carry The Corpse To Mr.

Russel'S, An Undertaker In cheapside, And Leave It There Till He Should

Send Orders For The Embalment, Which, He Added, Should Be After The Royal

Manner. His Directions Were Obeyed, The Company Dispersed, And Lady

Elizabeth And Her Son Remained inconsolable. The Next Day Mr. Charles

Dryden Waited on The Lord Halifax And The Bishop, To Excuse His Mother

And Himself, By Relating the Real Truth. But Neither His Lordship Nor The

Bishop Would Admit Of Any Plea; Especially The Latter, Who Had The Abbey

Lighted, The Ground Opened, The Choir Attending,