No More Learning

_On the monument of the honourable_ ROBERT DIGBY, _and of his sister
MARY, erected by their father the lord_ DIGBY, _in the church of
Skerborne, in Dorsetshire, 1727. _

Go! fair example of untainted youth,
Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth:
Compos'd in sufferings, and in joy sedate,
Good without noise, without pretension great.
Just of thy word, in ev'ry thought sincere,
Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:
Of softest manners, unaffected mind,
Lover of peace, and friend of human kind:
Go, live! for heav'n's eternal year is thine;
Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine.
And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom,
Pensive hast follow'd to the silent tomb,
Steer'd the same course to the same quiet shore,
Not parted long, and now to part no more!
Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known!
Go, where to love and to enjoy are one!
Yet take these tears, mortality's relief,
And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief:
These little rites, a stone, a verse receive,
'Tis all a father, all a friend can give!

This epitaph contains of the brother only a general indiscriminate
character, and of the sister tells nothing but that she died. The
difficulty in writing epitaphs is to give a particular and appropriate
praise. This, however, is not always to be performed, whatever be the
diligence or ability of the writer; for, the greater part of mankind
_have no character at all_, have little that distinguishes them from
others equally good or bad, and, therefore, nothing can be said of them
which may not be applied with equal propriety to a thousand more. It is,
indeed, no great panegyrick, that there is inclosed in this tomb one who
was born in one year, and died in another; yet many useful and amiable
lives have been spent, which yet leave little materials for any other
memorial. These are, however, not the proper subjects of poetry; and
whenever friendship, or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on
such subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in
generalities, and utters the same praises over different tombs.

The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more apparent, than
by remarking how often Pope has, in the few epitaphs which he composed,
found it necessary to borrow from himself. The fourteen epitaphs, which
he has written, comprise about a hundred and forty lines, in which there
are more repetitions than will easily be found in all the rest of his
works. In the eight lines which make the character of Digby, there is
scarce any thought, or word, which may not be found in the other
epitaphs.

The ninth line, which is far the strongest and most elegant, is borrowed
from Dryden. The conclusion is the same with that on Harcourt, but is
here more elegant and better connected.

VIII.
ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

_In Westminster Abbey, 1723. _

Kneller, by heav'n, and not a master, taught,
Whose art was nature, and whose pictures thought;
Now for two ages, having snatch'd from fate
Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great,
Lies crown'd with princes' honours, poets' lays,
Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.
Living, great nature fear'd he might outvie
Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.

Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, the third
is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word _crowned_ not being
applicable to the _honours_ or the _lays_; and the fourth is not only
borrowed from the epitaph on Raphael, but of very harsh construction.

IX.

ON GENERAL HENRY WITHERS.

_In Westminster Abbey_, 1723.

Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, Thy country's
friend, but more of human kind. O! born to arms! O! worth in
youth approv'd! O! soft humanity in age belov'd! For thee the
hardy vet'ran drops a tear, And the gay courtier feels the sigh
sincere.

Withers, adieu! yet not with thee remove Thy martial spirit, or
thy social love! Amidst corruption, luxury and rage, Still leave
some ancient virtues to our age: Nor let us say (those English
glories gone) The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.

The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of commonplaces, though
somewhat diversified, by mingled qualities, and the peculiarity of a
profession.

The second couplet is abrupt, general, and unpleasing; exclamation
seldom succeeds in our language; and, I think, it may be observed, that
the particle O! used at the beginning of a sentence, always offends.

The third couplet is more happy; the value expressed for him, by
different sorts of men, raises him to esteem; there is yet something of
the common cant of superficial satirists, who suppose that the
insincerity of a courtier destroys all his sensations, and that he is
equally a dissembler to the living and the dead[156].

At the third couplet I should wish the epitaph to close, but that I
should be unwilling to lose the two next lines, which yet are dearly
bought if they cannot be retained without the four that follow them.

X.

ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON.

_At Easthamstead, in Berkshire, 1730. _

This modest stone, what few vain marbles can,
May truly say, here lies an honest man:
A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate,
Whom heav'n kept sacred from the proud and great:
Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease,
Content with science in the vale of peace.
Calmly he look'd on either life, and here
Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear;
From nature's temp'rate feast rose satisfy'd,
Thank'd heav'n that he liv'd, and that he dy'd.

The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from Crashaw. The four
next lines contain a species of praise, peculiar, original, and just.
Here, therefore, the inscription should have ended, the latter part
containing nothing but what is common to every man who is wise and good.
The character of Fenton was so amiable, that I cannot forbear to wish
for some poet or biographer to display it more fully for the advantage
of posterity. If he did not stand in the first rank of genius, he may
claim a place in the second; and, whatever criticism may object to his
writings, censure could find very little to blame in his life.

XI.

ON MR. GAY.

_In Westminster Abbey, 1732. _

Of manners gentle, of affections mild;
In wit, a man; simpicity, a child;
With native humour temp'ring virtuous rage,
Form'd to delight at once and lash the age;
Above temptation, in a low estate;
And uncorrupted e'en among the great:
A safe companion and an easy friend,
Unblam'd through life, lamented in thy end;
These are thy honours! not that here thy bust
Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust;
But that the worthy and the good shall say,
Striking their pensive bosoms--Here lies Gay!

As Gay was the favourite of our author, this epitaph was probably
written with an uncommon degree of attention; yet it is not more
successfully executed than the rest, for it will not always happen that
the success of a poet is proportionate to his labour. The same
observation may be extended to all works of imagination, which are often
influenced by causes wholly out of the performer's power, by hints of
which he perceives not the origin, by sudden elevations of mind which he
cannot produce in himself, and which sometimes rise when he expects them
least.

The two parts of the first line are only echoes of each other; _gentle
manners_ and _mild affections_, if they mean any thing, must mean the
same.

That Gay was a _man in wit_ is a very frigid commendation; to have the
wit of a man, is not much for a poet. The _wit of a man_[157], and the
_simplicity of a child_, make a poor and vulgar contrast, and raise no
ideas of excellence, either intellectual or moral.

In the next couplet _rage_ is less properly introduced after the mention
of _mildness_ and _gentleness_ which are made the constituents of his
character; for a man so _mild_ and _gentle_ to _temper_ his _rage_, was
not difficult.

The next line is inharmonious in its sound, and mean in its conception;
the opposition is obvious, and the word _lash_ used absolutely, and
without any modification, is gross and improper.

To be _above temptation_ in poverty, and _free from corruption among
the great_, is, indeed, such a peculiarity as deserved notice. But to be
a _safe companion_ is praise merely negative, arising not from the
possession of virtue, but the absence of vice, and one of the most
odious.

As little can be added to his character, by asserting that he was
_lamented in his end_. Every man that dies is, at least, by the writer
of his epitaph, supposed to be lamented; and, therefore, this general
lamentation does no honour to Gay.

The first eight lines have no grammar; the adjectives are without any
substantive, and the epithets without a subject.

The thought in the last line, that Gay is buried in the bosoms of the
_worthy_ and the _good_, who are distinguished only to lengthen the
line, is so dark that few understand it; and so harsh, when it is
explained, that still fewer approve[158].

XII.

INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

_In Westminster Abbey_.

ISAACUS NEWTONIUS:
Quem immortalem
Testantur, _tempus, natura, coelum_:
Mortalem
Hoc marmor fatetur.
Nature, and nature's law, lay hid in night:
God said, _Let Newton be_! And all was light.

Of this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be very few. Why
part should be Latin, and part English, it is not easy to discover. In
the Latin the opposition of _immortalis_ and _mortalis_, is a mere
sound, or a mere quibble; he is not _immortal_ in any sense contrary to
that in which he is _mortal_.

In the verses the thought is obvious, and the words _night_ and _light_
are too nearly allied.

XIII.

_On_ EDMUND _duke of_ BUCKINGHAM, _who died in the nineteenth year of his
age_, 1735.

If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd,
And ev'ry op'ning virtue blooming round,
Could save a parent's justest pride from fate,
Or add one patriot to a sinking state;
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear,
Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!
The living virtue now had shone approv'd,
The senate heard him, and his country lov'd.
Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame,
Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:
In whom a race, for courage fam'd and art,
Ends in the milder merit of the heart:
And, chiefs or sages long to Britain giv'n,
Pays the last tribute of a saint to heav'n.

This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest; but I know not for what
reason. To _crown_ with _reflection_ is surely a mode of speech
approaching to nonsense. _Opening virtues blooming round,_ is something
like tautology; the six following lines are poor and prosaick _Art_ is,
in another couplet, used for _arts_, that a rhyme may be had to _heart. _
The six last lines are the best, but not excellent.

The rest of his sepulchral performances hardly deserve the notice of
criticism. The contemptible Dialogue between He and She should have been
suppressed for the author's sake.

In his last epitaph on himself, in which he attempts to be jocular upon
one of the few things that make wise men serious, he confounds the
living man with the dead:

Under this stone, or under this sill,
Or under this turf, &c.

When a man is once buried, the question, under what he is buried, is
easily decided. He forgot that though he wrote the epitaph in a state of
uncertainty, yet it could not be laid over him till his grave was made.
Such is the folly of wit when it is ill employed.

The world has but little new; even this wretchedness seems to have been
borrowed from the following tuneless lines:

Ludovici Areosti humantur ossa
Sub hoc marmore, vel sub hac humo, seu
Sub quicquid voluit benignus hæres,
Sive hærede benignior comes, seu
Opportunius incidens viator;
Nam scire haud potuit futura, sed nec
Tanti erat vacuum sibi cadaver
Ut urnam cuperet parare vivens;
Vivens ista tamen sibi paravit,
Quæ inscribi voluit suo sepulchro
Olim siquod haberet is sepulchrum.

Surely Ariosto did not venture to expect that his trifle would have ever
had such an illustrious imitator.

-----

[Footnote 108: This weakness was so great that he constantly wore stays,
as I have been assured by a waterman at Twickenham, who, in lifting him
into his boat, had often felt them. His method of taking the air on the
water was to have a sedan chair in the boat, in which he sat with the
glasses down. H. ]

[Footnote 109: This opinion is warmly controverted by Roscoe, in his
Life of Pope; and, perhaps, with justice; for, to adopt the words of
D'Israeli, "Pope's literary warfare was really the wars of his poetical
ambition more, perhaps, than of the petulance and strong irritability of
his temper. " See also sir Walter Scott's Swift, i. 316. ED. ]

[Footnote 110: This is incorrect; his ordinary hand was certainly neat
and elegant. I have some of it now before me. M. ]

[Footnote 111: Pope's first instructor is repeatedly mentioned by Spence
under the name of Banister, and described as the family priest. Spence's
Anecd. 259. 283. Singer's edit. Roscoe's Pope, i. 11. ED. ]

[Footnote 112: Dryden died May 1, 1700, a year earlier than Johnson
supposed. M. ]

[Footnote 113: No. 253. But, according to Dr. Warton, Pope was
displeased at one passage, in which Addison censures the admission of
"some strokes of ill-nature. "]

[Footnote 114: See Gent. Mag. vol. li. p. 314. N. See the subject very
fully discussed in Roscoe's Life of Pope, i. 86, and following pages. ]

[Footnote 115: What eye of taste ever beheld the dancing fawn or the
immortal Canova's dancing girl, and doubted of this power? Pindar long
ago assigned this to sculpture, and was never censured for his poetic
boldness:[Greek: Erga de zooisin erpon--tessi th' omoia kelenthoi
pheron. ] Olym. vii. 95. ED. ]

[Footnote 116: Pope never felt with Eloisa, and, therefore, slighted his
own affected effusions. He had little intense feeling himself, and all
the passionate parts of the epistle are manifestly borrowed from
Eloisa's own Latin letters. ED. ]

[Footnote 117: It is still at Caen Wood. N. ]

[Footnote 118: Spence. ]

[Footnote 119: Earlier than this, viz. in 1688, Milton's Paradise Lost
had been published with great success by subscription, in folio, under
the patronage of Mr. (afterwards lord) Somers. R. ]

[Footnote 120: This may very well be doubted. The interference of the
Dutch booksellers stimulated Lintot to publish cheap editions, the
greater sale of which among the people probably produced his large
profits. ED. ]

[Footnote 121: Spence. ]

[Footnote 122: Spence. ]

[Footnote 123: As this story was related by Pope himself, it was most
probably true. Had it rested on any other authority, I should have
suspected it to have been, borrowed from one of Poggio's Tales. De
Jannoto Vicecomite. J. B. ]

[Footnote 124: On this point, see notes on Halifax's life in this
edition. ]

[Footnote 125: Spence. ]

[Footnote 126: See, however, the Life of Addison in the Biographia
Britannica, last edition. R. ]

[Footnote 127: See the letter containing Pope's answer to the bishop's
arguments in Roscoe's life, i. 212. ]

[Footnote 128: The late Mr. Graves, of Claverton, informs us, that this
bible was afterwards used in the chapel of Prior-park. Dr. Warburton
probably presented it to Mr. Allen. ]

[Footnote 129: See note to Adventurer, No. 138. ]

[Footnote 130: Mr. D'Israeli has discussed the whole of this affair in
his Quarrels of Authors, i. 176. Mr. Roscoe likewise, in his Life of
Pope, examines very fully all the evidence to be gathered on the point,
and comes to a conclusion much less reputable to Curll, than that to be
inferred from Dr. Johnson's arguments. ED. ]

[Footnote 131: These letters were evidently prepared for the press by
Pope himself. Some of the originals, lately discovered, will prove this
beyond all dispute; in the edition of Pope's works, lately published by
Mr. Bowles. ]

[Footnote 132: Ayre, in his Life of Pope, ii. 215, relates an amusing
anecdote on this occasion. "Soon after the appearance of the first
epistle," he observes, "a gentleman who had attempted some things in the
poetical way, called on Pope, who inquired from him, what news there was
in the learned world, and what new pieces were brought to light? The
visiter replied, that there was little or nothing worthy notice; that
there was, indeed, a thing called an Essay on Man, shocking poetry,
insufferable philosophy, no coherence, no connexion. Pope could not
repress his indignation, and instantly avowed himself the author. This
was like a clap of thunder to the mistaken bard, who took up his hat and
never ventured to show his unlucky face there again. " It is generally
supposed that Mallet was this luckless person. ED. ]

[Footnote 133: This letter is in Mr. Malone's Supplement to Shakespeare,
vol. i. p. 223. ]

[Footnote 134: Spence.
]

[Footnote 135: It has been admitted by divines, even that some sins do
more especially beset particular individuals. Mr. Roscoe enters into a
long vindication of Pope's doctrine against the imputations of Dr.
Johnson; the most satisfactory parts of which are the refutations drawn
from Pope's own essay.

The business of reason is shown to be,
to rectify, not overthrow,
And treat this passion more as friend than foe.
Essay on Man, ep. ii. 164.

Th' eternal art, educing good from ill,
Grafts on this passion our best principle;
'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd:
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.
Ib. ii. 175.

As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care,
On savage stocks inserted learn to bear,
The surest virtues thus from passions shoot,
Wild nature's vigour working at the root,
What crops of wit and honesty appear
From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear, &c.
Ib. ii. 181.

"And thus," concludes Mr. Roscoe, "the injurious consequences which
Johnson supposes to be derived from Pope's idea of the ruling passion,
are not only obviated, but _that passion_ itself is shown to be
conducive to our highest moral improvement. " ED. ]

[Footnote 136: Entitled, Sedition and Defamation displayed. 8vo. 1733.
R. ]

[Footnote 137: Among many manuscripts, letters, &c. relating to Pope,
which I have lately seen, is a lampoon in the bible style, of much
humour, but irreverent, in which Pope is ridiculed as the son of a
_hatter_. ]

[Footnote 138: On a hint from Warburton. There is, however, reason to
think, from the appearance of the house in which Allen was born at Saint
Blaise, that he was not of a _low_, but of a _decayed_ family. ]

[Footnote 139: Since discovered to have been Atterbury, afterwards
bishop of Rochester.

See the collection of that prelate's Epistolary Correspondence, vol. iv.
p. 6. N. This I believe to be an error. Mr. Nichols has ascribed this
preface to Atterbury on the authority of Dr. Walter Harte, who, in a
manuscript note on a copy of Pope's edition, expresses his surprise that
Pope should there have described the former editor as anonymous, as he
himself had told Harte fourteen years before his own publication, that
this preface was by Atterbury. The explication is probably this; that
during that period he had discovered that he had been in a mistake. By a
manuscript note in a copy presented by Crynes to the Bodleian library,
we are informed that the former editor was Thomas Power, of Trinity
college, Cambridge. Power was bred at Westminster, under Busby, and was
elected off to Cambridge in the year 1678. He was author of a
translation of Milton's Paradise Lost; of which only the first book was
published, in 1691. J. B. ]

[Footnote 140: In 1743. ]

[Footnote 141: In 1744. ]

[Footnote 142: Mr. Roscoe, with good reason, doubts the accuracy of this
inconsistent and improbable story. See his Life of Pope, 556. ]

[Footnote 143: Spence. ]

[Footnote 144: This is somewhat inaccurately expressed. Lord Bolingbroke
was not an executor: Pope's papers were left to him specifically, or, in
case of his death, to lord Marchmont. ]

[Footnote 145: This account of the difference between Pope and Mr. Allen
is not so circumstantial as it was in Johnson's power to have made it.
The particulars communicated to him concerning it he was too indolent to
commit to writing; the business of this note is to supply his omissions.
Upon an invitation, in which Mrs. Blount was included, Mr. Pope made a
visit to Mr. Allen, at Prior-park, and having occasion to go to Bristol
for a few days, left Mrs. Blount behind him. In his absence Mrs. Blount,
who was of the Romish persuasion, signified an inclination to go to the
popish chapel at Bath, and desired of Mr. Allen the use of his chariot
for the purpose; but he being at that time mayor of the city, suggested
the impropriety of having his carriage seen at the door of a place of
worship, to which, as a magistrate, he was at least restrained from
giving a sanction, and might be required to suppress, and, therefore,
desire to be excused. Mrs. Blount resented this refusal, and told Pope
of it at his return, and so infected him with her rage that they both
left the house abruptly[1].

An instance of the like negligence may be noted in his relation of
Pope's love of painting, which differs much from the information I gave
him on that head. A picture of Betterton, certainly copied from Kneller
by Pope[2], lord Mansfield once showed me at Kenwood-house, adding, that
it was the only one he ever finished, for that the weakness of his eyes
was an obstruction to his use of the pencil. H.

(Footnote 1: This is altogether wrong. Pope kept up his friendship with
Mr. Allen to the last, as appears by his letters, and Mrs. Blount
remained in Mr. Allen's house some time after the coolness took place
between her and Mrs. Allen. Allen's conversation with Pope on this
subject, and his letters to Mrs. Blount, all whose quarrels he was
obliged to share, will be found in Mr. Bowles's edition of Pope's works.
C. --See further and more minute information on this affair in Roscoe's
Pope, i. 526, and following pages. Ed. )

(Footnote 2: See p. 249. )]

[Footnote 146: But see this matter explained by facts more creditable to
Pope, in his life, Biographical Dictionary, vol. xxv. ]

[Footnote 147: Part of it arose from an annuity of two hundred pounds a
year, which he had purchased either of the late duke of Buckinghamshire,
or the dutchess, his mother, and which was charged on some estate of
that family. [See p. 256. ] The deed by which it was granted was some
years in my custody. H. ]

[Footnote 148: The account herein before given of this lady and her
catastrophe, cited by Johnson from Ruffhead, with a kind of acquiescence
in the truth thereof, seems no other than might have been extracted from
the verses themselves. I have in my possession a letter to Dr. Johnson,
containing the name of the lady; and a reference to a gentleman well
known in the literary world for her history. Him I have seen; and, from
a memorandum of some particulars to the purpose, communicated to him by
a lady of quality, he informs me, that the unfortunate lady's name was
Withinbury[1], corruptly pronounced Winbury; that she was in love with
Pope, and would have married him; that her guardian, though she was
deformed in person, looking upon such a match as beneath her, sent her
to a convent; and that a noose, and not a sword, put an end to her life.
H. (Footnote 1: According to Warton, the lady's name was Wainsbury.
ED. )]

[Footnote 149: Bentley was one of these. He and Pope, soon after the
publication of Homer, met at Dr. Mead's at dinner; when Pope, desirous
of his opinion of the translation, addressed him thus: "Dr. Bentley, I
ordered my bookseller to send you your books: I hope you received them. "
Bentley, who had purposely avoided saying any thing about Homer,
pretended not to understand him, and asked, "Books! books! what
books? "--" My Homer," replied Pope, "which you did me the honour to
subscribe for. "--"Oh," said Bentley, "aye, now I recollect--your
translation:--it is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope; but you must not call it
Homer. " H.

Some good remarks on Pope's translation may be found in the work of
Melmoth, entitled Fitzosborne's Letters. ED. ]

[Footnote 150: In one of these poems is a couplet, to which belongs a
story that I once heard the reverend Dr. Ridley relate:

"Slander or poison dread from Delia's rage;
Hard words, or hanging, if your judge be . . . ,"

Sir Francis Page, a judge well known in his time, conceiving that his
name was meant to fill up the blank, sent his clerk to Mr. Pope, to
complain of the insult. Pope told the young man that the blank might be
supplied by many monosyllables, other than the judge's name:--"but,
sir," said the clerk, "the judge says that no other word will make sense
of the passage. "--"So then it seems," says Pope "your master is not only
a judge but a poet; as that is the case, the odds are against me. Give
my respects to the judge, and tell him, I will not contend with one that
has the advantage of me, and he may fill up the blank as he pleases. "
H. ]

[Footnote 151: See note, by Gifford, on Johnson's criticism here in
Massinger's works. ]

[Footnote 152: Johnson, I imagine, alludes to a well-known line by
Rochester:

The best good man with the worst-natur'd muse. ]

[Footnote 153: Major Bernardi, who died in Newgate, Sept. 20, 1736. See
Gent. Mag. vol. 1. p. 125. N. ]

[Footnote 154: This was altered much for the better, as it now stands on
the monument in the abbey, erected to Rowe and his daughter. WARB. See
Bowles's edition of Pope's works, ii. 416. ]

[Footnote 155: In the north aisle of the parish church of St. Margaret,
Westminster. H. ]

[Footnote 156: The thought was, probably, borrowed from Carew's
Obsequies to the lady Anne Hay:

I heard the virgins sigh, I saw the sleek
And polish'd courtier channel his fresh cheek
_With real tears_.
J. B. ]

[Footnote 157: Her _wit_ was more than _man_, her _innocence a child_.
DRYDEN, on Mrs. Killigrew. ]

[Footnote 158: The same thought is found in George Whetstone's epitaph
on the good lord Dyer, 1582:
Et semper bonus ille bonis fuit, ergo bonorum
Sunt illi demum pectora sarcophagus.
J. B. ]




PITT.


Christopher Pitt, of whom whatever I shall relate, more than has been
already published, I owe to the kind communication of Dr. Warton, was
born, in 1699, at Blandford, the son of a physician much esteemed.

He was, in 1714, received as a scholar into Winchester college, where he
was distinguished by exercises of uncommon elegance, and, at his removal
to New college, in 1719, presented to the electors, as the product of
his private and voluntary studies, a complete version of Lucan's poem,
which he did not then know to have been translated by Rowe.

This is an instance of early diligence which well deserves to be
recorded. The suppression of such a work, recommended by such uncommon
circumstances, is to be regretted. It is, indeed, culpable to load
libraries with superfluous books; but incitements to early excellence
are never superfluous, and, from this example, the danger is not great
of many imitations.

When he had resided at his college three years, he was presented to the
rectory of Pimpern, in Dorsetshire, 1722, by his relation, Mr. Pitt, of
Stratfield Say, in Hampshire; and, resigning his fellowship, continued
at Oxford two years longer, till he became master of arts, 1724.

He probably about this time translated Vida's Art of Poetry, which
Tristram's splendid edition had then made popular. In this translation
he distinguished himself, both by its general elegance, and by the
skilful adaptation of his numbers to the images expressed; a beauty
which Vida has, with great ardour, enforced and exemplified.

He then retired to his living, a place very pleasing by its situation,
and, therefore, likely to excite the imagination of a poet; where he
passed the rest of his life, reverenced for his virtue, and beloved for
the softness of his temper and the easiness of his manners. Before
strangers he had something of the scholar's timidity or distrust; but
when he became familiar he was, in a very high degree, cheerful and
entertaining. His general benevolence procured general respect; and he
passed a life placid and honourable, neither too great for the kindness
of the low, nor too low for the notice of the great.

At what time he composed his Miscellany, published in 1727, it is not
easy or necessary to know: those which have dates appear to have been
very early productions, and I have not observed that any rise above
mediocrity.

The success of his Vida animated him to a higher undertaking; and in his
thirtieth year he published a version of the first book of the Æneid.
This being, I suppose, commended by his friends, he, some time
afterwards, added three or four more; with an advertisement, in which he
represents himself as translating with great indifference, and with a
progress of which himself was hardly conscious. This can hardly be true,
and, if true, is nothing to the reader.

At last, without any farther contention with his modesty or any awe of
the name of Dryden, he gave us a complete English Æneid, which I am
sorry not to see, joined in this publication with his other poems[159].
It would have been pleasing to have an opportunity of comparing the two
best translations that, perhaps, were ever produced by one nation of the
same author.

Pitt, engaging as a rival with Dryden, naturally observed his failures,
and avoided them; and, as he wrote after Pope's Iliad, he had an example
of an exact, equable and splendid versification. With these advantages
seconded by great diligence, he might successfully labour particular
passages, and escape many errours. If the two versions are compared,
perhaps the result would be that Dryden leads the reader forward by his
general vigour and sprightliness, and Pitt often stops him to
contemplate the excellence of a single couplet; that Dryden's faults are
forgotten in the hurry of delight, and that Pitt's beauties are
neglected in the languor of a cold and listless perusal; that Pitt
pleases the criticks, and Dryden the people; that Pitt is quoted, and
Dryden read.

He did not long enjoy the reputation which this great work deservedly
conferred; for he left the world in 1748, and lies buried under a stone
at Blandford, on which is this inscription:

In memory of
CHR. PITT, clerk, M. A.
Very eminent
for his talents in poetry;
and yet more
for the universal candour of
his mind, and the primitive
simplicity of his manners.
He lived innocent;
and died beloved,
Apr. 13, 1748,
aged 48.

-----

[Footnote 159: It has since been added to the collection. R. ]




THOMSON.


James Thomson, the son of a minister well esteemed for his piety and
diligence, was born September 7, 1700, at Ednam, in the shire of
Roxburgh, of which his father was pastor. His mother, whose name was
Hume[160], inherited, as coheiress, a portion of a small estate. The
revenue of a parish in Scotland is seldom large; and it was, probably,
in commiseration of the difficulty with which Mr. Thomson supported his
family, having nine children, that Mr. Riccarton, a neighbouring
minister, discovering in James uncommon promises of future excellence,
undertook to superintend his education, and provide him books.

He was taught the common rudiments of learning at the school of Jedburg,
a place which he delights to recollect in his poem of Autumn; but was
not considered by his master as superiour to common boys, though, in
those early days, he amused his patron and his friends with poetical
compositions; with which, however, he so little pleased himself, that,
on every new-year's day, he threw into the fire all the productions of
the foregoing year.

From the school he was removed to Edinburgh, where he had not resided
two years when his father died, and left all his children to the care of
their mother, who raised, upon her little estate, what money a mortgage
could afford, and, removing with her family to Edinburgh, lived to see
her son rising into eminence.

The design of Thomson's friends was to breed him a minister. He lived at
Edinburgh, as at school, without distinction or expectation, till, at
the usual time, he performed a probationary exercise by explaining a
psalm. His diction was so poetically splendid, that Mr. Hamilton, the
professor of divinity, reproved him for speaking language
unintelligible to a popular audience; and he censured one of his
expressions as indecent, if not profane[161].

This rebuke is reported to have repressed his thoughts of an
ecclesiastical character, and he probably cultivated, with new
diligence, his blossoms of poetry, which, however, were in some danger
of a blast; for, submitting his productions to some who thought
themselves qualified to criticise, he heard of nothing but faults; but,
finding other judges more favourable, he did not suffer himself to sink
into despondence.

He easily discovered, that the only stage on which a poet could appear,
with any hope of advantage, was London; a place too wide for the
operation of petty competition and private malignity, where merit might
soon become conspicuous, and would find friends as soon as it became
reputable to befriend it. A lady, who was acquainted with his mother,
advised him to the journey, and promised some countenance, or
assistance, which, at last, he never received; however, he justified his
adventure by her encouragement, and came to seek, in London, patronage
and fame.

At his arrival he found his way to Mr. Mallet, then tutor to the sons of
the duke of Montrose. He had recommendations to several persons of
consequence, which he had tied up carefully in his handkerchief; but as
he passed along the street, with the gaping curiosity of a new-comer,
his attention was upon every thing rather than his pocket, and his
magazine of credentials was stolen from him.

His first want was a pair of shoes. For the supply of all his
necessities, his whole fund was his Winter, which for a time could find
no purchaser; till, at last, Mr. Millan was persuaded to buy it at a low
price; and this low price he had, for some time, reason to regret[162];
but, by accident, Mr. Whatley, a man not wholly unknown among authors,
happening to turn his eye upon it, was so delighted that he ran from
place to place celebrating its excellence. Thomson obtained, likewise,
the notice of Aaron Hill, whom, being friendless and indigent, and glad
of kindness, he courted with every expression of servile adulation.

Winter was dedicated to sir Spencer Compton, but attracted no regard
from him to the author; till Aaron Hill awakened his attention by some
verses addressed to Thomson, and published in one of the newspapers,
which censured the great for their neglect of ingenious men.