Volume 4 — JOHN HUGHES, (continued 2)

The author of the elegant Letters, not long ago published under the name of Fitz Osborne, has taken some pains to set before his readers; the version of those parts of Homer, translated by our author, and the same passages by Pope and Tickell, in which comparison the palm is very deservedly yielded to Pope.

Our author wrote a Satire called Doris, celebrated by Sir Richard Steele, who was a warm friend to Mr. Congreve. He also wrote the Judgment of Paris, a Masque; and the Opera of Semele; of these, the former was acted with great applause, and the latter is finely set to music by Mr. Eccles. The last of his Poetical Works, is his Art of Pleasing, addressed to Sir Richard Temple, the late viscount Cobham. He has written many Prose Epistles, dispersed in the works of other writers, and his Essay on Humour in Comedy, published in a Collection of Dennis's Letters, is an entertaining, and correct piece of criticism: All his other Letters are written with a great deal of wit and spirit, a fine flow of language; and are so happily intermixt with a lively and inoffensive raillery, that it is impossible not to be pleased with them at the first reading: we may be satisfied from the perusal of them, that his conversation must have been very engaging, and therefore we need not wonder that he was caressed by the greatest men of his time, or that they courted his friendship by every act of kindness in their power.

It is said of Mr. Congreve, that he was a particular favourite with the ladies, some of whom were of the first distinction. He indulged none of those reveries, and affected absences so peculiar to men of wit: He was sprightly as well as elegant in his manner, and so much the favourite of Henrietta duchess of Marlborough, that even after his death, she caused an image of him to be every day placed at her toilet-table, to which she would talk as to the living Mr. Congreve, with all the freedom of the most polite and unreserved conversation. Mrs. Bracegirdle likewise had the highest veneration for our author, and joined with her Grace in a boundless profusion of sorrow upon his death. Some think, he had made a better figure in his Last Will, had he remembered his friendship he professed for Mrs. Bracegirdle, whose admirable performance added spirit to his dramatic pieces; but he forgot her, and gratified his vanity by chusing to make a rich duchess his sole legatee, and executrix.

Mr. Congreve was the son of fortune, as well as of the muses. He was early preferred to an affluent situation, and no change of ministry ever affected him, nor was he ever removed from any post he enjoyed, except to a better.

His place in the custom-house, and his office of secretary in Jamaica, are said to have brought him in upwards of 1200 l. a year; and he was so far an oeconomist, as to raise from thence a competent estate. No man of his learning ever pass'd thro' life with more ease, or less envy; and as in the dawn of his reputation he was very dear to the greatest wits of his time, so during his whole life he preserved the utmost respect of, and received continual marks of esteem from, men of genius and letters, without ever being involved, in any of their quarrels, or drawing upon himself the least mark of distaste, or, even dissatisfaction. The greatest part of the last twenty years of his life were spent in ease and retirement, and he gave himself no trouble about reputation. When the celebrated Voltaire was in England, he waited upon Congreve, and pass'd some compliments upon him, as to the reputation and merit of his works; Congreve thanked him, but at the same time told that ingenious foreigner, he did not chuse to be considered as an author, but only as a private gentleman, and in that light expected to be visited. Voltaire answered, 'That if he had never been any thing but a private gentleman, in all probability, he had never been troubled with that visit.'

Mr. Voltaire upon this occasion observes, that he was not a little disgusted with so unseasonable a piece of vanity:—This was indeed the highest instance of it, that perhaps can be produced. A man who owed to his wit and writings the reputation, as well as the fortune, he acquired, pretending to divest himself of human nature to such a degree, as to have no consciousness of his own merit, was the most absurd piece of vanity that ever entered into the heart of man; and of all vanity, that is the greatest which masks itself under the appearance of the opposite quality.

Towards the close of his life, he was much troubled with the gout; and for this reason, in the summer of the year 1728, he made a tour to Bath, for the benefit of the waters, where he had the misfortune to be overturned in his chariot, from which time he complained of a pain in his side, which was supposed to arise from some inward bruise. Upon his return to London, he perceived his health gradually decline, which he bore with fortitude and resignation.

On January the 19th, 1728-9, he yielded his last breath, about five o'clock in the morning, at his house in Surrey-street in the Strand, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. On the sunday following, January 26, his corpse lay in state in the Jerusalem-Chamber, from whence the same evening, between the hours of nine and ten, it was carried with great decency and solemnity to Henry the VIIth's Chapel; and after the funeral service was performed, it was interred in the Abbey. The pall was supported by the duke of Bridgewater, earl of Godolphin, lord Cobham, lord Wilmington, the honourable George Berkley, Esq; and Brigadier-general Churchill; and colonel Congreve followed his corpse as chief mourner; some time after, a neat and elegant monument was erected to his memory, by Henrietta duchess of Marlborough.

Mr. Congreve's reputation is so extensive, and his works so generally read, that any specimen of his poetry may be deemed superfluous. But finding an epistle of our author's in the Biographia Brittannica, not inserted in his works, it may not be improper to give it a place here. It is addressed to the lord viscount Cobham, and the ingenious authors inform us, that they copied it from a MS. very correct.

As in this poem there is a visible allusion to the measures, which the writer thought were too complaisant to the French, it is evident it must have been penned but a very small time before his death.

Of improving the present time.

Sincerest critic of my prose, or rhyme. Tell how thy pleasing Stowe employs thy time. Say, Cobham, what amuses thy retreat? Or stratagems of war, or schemes of state? Dost thou recall to mind, with joy or grief, Great Marlbro's actions? that immortal chief, Whose highest trophy, rais'd in each campaign, More than suffic'd to signalize a reign. Does thy remembrance rising, warm thy heart With glory past, where thou thyself had'st part; Or do'st thou grieve indignant, now to see The fruitless end of all thy victory! To see th' audacious foe, so late subdu'd, Dispute those terms for which so long they su'd, As if Britannia now were sunk so low, To beg that peace she wanted to bestow. Be far, that guilt! be never known that shame! That England should retract her rightful claim! Or ceasing to be dreaded and ador'd, Stain with her pen the lustre of her sword. Or dost thou give the winds, a-far to blow, Each vexing thought, and heart-devouring woe, And fix thy mind alone on rural scenes, To turn the levell'd lawns to liquid plains; To raise the creeping rills from humble beds, And force the latent springs to lift their heads; On watry columns capitals to rear, That mix their flowing curls with upper air? Or dost thou, weary grown, late works neglect, No temples, statues, obelisks erect; But catch the morning breeze from fragrant meads. Or shun the noon-tide ray in wholesome shades; Or lowly walk along the mazy wood, To meditate on all that's wise and good: For nature, bountiful, in thee has join'd, A person pleasing, with a worthy mind, Not giv'n the form alone, but means and art, To draw the eye, or to allure the heart. Poor were the praise, in fortune to excel, Yet want the way to use that fortune well. While thus adorn'd, while thus with virtue crown'd, At home in peace; abroad, in arms renown'd; Graceful in form, and winning in address, While well you think, what aptly you express; With health, with honour, with a fair estate, A table free, and elegantly neat. What can be added more to mortal bliss? What can he want that stands possest of this? What can the fondest wishing mother more, Of heav'n attentive, for her son implore? And yet, a happiness remains unknown, Or to philosophy reveal'd alone; A precept which, unpractis'd, renders vain Thy flowing hopes, and pleasure turns to pain. Shou'd hope and fear thy heart alternate tear, Or love, or hate, or rage, or anxious care, Whatever passions may thy mind infest, (Where is that mind which passions ne'er molest?) Amidst the pangs of such intestine strife, Still think the present day the last of life; Defer not 'till to-morrow to be wise, To-morrow's sun to thee may never rise; Or shou'd to-morrow chance to chear thy sight, With her enliv'ning, and unlook'd-for light. How grateful will appear her dawning rays! Its favours unexpected doubly please. Who thus can think, and who such thoughts pursues, Content may keep his life, or calmly lose. All proofs of this, thou may'st thyself receive, When leisure from affairs will give thee leave. Come, see thy friend retir'd, without regret, Forgetting care, or striving to forget, In easy contemplation, soothing time With morals much, and now and then with rhyme; Not so robust in body as in mind, And always undejected, tho' declin'd; Not wond'ring at the world's new wicked ways, Compar'd with those of our fore-father's days: For virtue now is neither more or less, And vice is only vary'd in the dress: Believe it, men have ever been the same, And OVID'S GOLDEN AGE is but a dream.

We shall conclude the life of this eminent wit, with the testimony of Mr. Pope in his favour, from the close of his postscript to the translation of Homer: It is in every respect so honourable, that it would be injurious to Mr. Congreve to omit it.—His words are—'Instead of endeavouring to raise a vain monument to myself, let me leave behind me a memorial of my friendship with one of the most valuable men, as well as the finest writers of my age and country. One who has tried, and knows by his own experience, how hard an undertaking it is to do justice to Homer, and one who I'm sure sincerely rejoices with me at the period of my labours. To him therefore, having brought this long work to a conclusion, I desire to dedicate it, and have the honour and satisfaction of placing together in this manner, the names of Mr. Congreve and of

A. POPE.

[Footnote A: General Dictionary.]

[Footnote B: Wilson's Memoirs of Congreve.]

[Footnote C: Yet Maskwell purposely talks to himself, designing to be overheard by Lord Touchwood; undoubtedly an error in the conduit, and want of art in the author. This he seems here to forget, or would not remember it.]

* * * * *

Sir JOHN VANBRUGH,

This Gentleman was descended from an antient family in Cheshire, which came originally from France; though by the name it would appear to be of Dutch extraction. He received a very liberal education, and became eminent for his poetry, and skill in architecture, to both which he discovered an early propension. It is somewhat remarkable in the History of Poetry, that when the spirit of Tragedy, in a great measure, declined, when Otway and Lee were dead, and Dryden was approaching to old age, that Comedy should then begin to flourish; at an Æra, which one would not have expected to prove auspicious to the cause of mirth.

Much about the same time rose Mr. Congreve, and Sir John Vanbrugh; who, without any invidious reflection on the genius of others, gave a new life to the stage, and restored it to reputation, which before their appearance had been for some time sinking. Happy would it have been for the world, and some advantage to the memory of those comic writers, if they had discovered their wit, without any mixture of that licentiousness, which while it pleased, tended to corrupt the audience. The first step our author made into life, was in the character of an ensign in the army. He was possessed of a very ready wit, and an agreeable elocution. He happened somewhere in his winter quarters, to contract an acquaintance with Sir Thomas Skipwith, and received a particular obligation from him. He had very early discovered a taste for dramatic writing, to improve which he made some attempts in that way, and had the draft or out-lines of two plays lying by him, at the time his acquaintance commenced with Sir Thomas. This gentleman possessed a large share in a Theatrical Patent, though he very little concerned himself in the conduct of it; but that he might not appear altogether remiss, he thought to procure some advantage to the stage, by having our author's play, called the Relapse, to be acted upon it. In this he was not disappointed, for the Relapse succeeded beyond the warmest expectation, and raised Vanbrugh's name very high amongst the writers for the stage.

Tho' this play met with greater applause, than the author expected, yet it was not without its enemies. These were people of the graver sort, who blamed the looseness of the scenes, and the unguarded freedom of the dialect. These complaints induced Vanbrugh to make some observations upon them in his preface, which he thus begins, 'To go about to excuse half the defects this abortive brat is come into the world with, would be to provoke the town with a long useless preface, when 'tis, I doubt, sufficiently sour'd already, by a tedious play.

'I do therefore, with all the humility of a repenting sinner, confess it wants every thing—but length, and in that I hope the severest critics will be pleased to acknowledge, I have not been wanting. But my modesty will sure attone for every thing, when the world shall know it is so great, I am even to this day insensible of those two shining graces, in the play (which some part of the town is pleased to compliment me with) blasphemy and bawdy. For my part I cannot find them out; if there were any obscene expressions upon the stage, here they are in print; for I have dealt fairly, I have not sunk a syllable, that could be ranged under that head, and yet I believe with a steady faith, there is not one woman of real reputation in town, but when she has read it impartially over in her closet, will find it so innocent, she'll think it no affront to her prayer book, to lay it upon the same shelf.'

Being encouraged by the success of the Relapse, he yielded to the sollicitation of lord Hallifax, who had read some of the loose sheets of his Provok'd Wife, to finish that piece; and after throwing them into a proper form, gave the play to the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. Though Sir John had a greater inclination to serve the other company, yet the request of lord Hallifax, so eminent a patron of the poets, could not be resisted. Sir Thomas Skipwith was not offended at so reasonable a compliance, and the Provok'd Wife was acted 1698, with success. Some critics likewise objected against this, as a loose performance; and that it taught the married women how to revenge themselves on their husbands, who should offend them.

The play has indeed this moral, that such husbands as resemble Sir John Brute, may expect that neglected beauty, and abused virtue, may be provoked to yield to the motives of revenge, and that the forcible sollicitations of an agreeable person, who not only demonstrates a value, but a passion for what the possessor slights, may be sufficiently prevalent with an injured wife to forfeit her honour.

Though this event may often fall out, that the brutality of a husband produces the infidelity of a wife, yet it need not be shewn upon the stage; women are not generally so tame in their natures, as to bear neglect with patience, and the natural resentments of the human heart will without any other monitor point out the method of revenge. Besides, every husband ought not to be deemed a brute, because a too delicate, or ceremonious wife, shall, in the abundance of her caprice, bestow upon him that appellation. Many women who have beheld this representation, may have been stimulated to imitate lady Brute in her method of revenge, without having suffered her provocation. This play verifies the observation of Mr. Pope,

That Van wants grace, who never wanted wit.

The next play which Sir John Vanbrugh introduced upon the stage was Aesop, a Comedy; in two Parts, acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane 1698. This was originally written in French, by Mr. Boursart, about six years before; but the scenes of Sir Polidorus Hogstye, the Players, the Senator, and the Beau, were added by our author. This performance contains a great deal of general satire, and useful morality; notwithstanding which, it met with but a cold reception from the audience, and its run terminated in about 8 or 9 days. This seemed the more surprising to men of taste, as the French comedy from which it was taken, was played to crowded audiences for a month together. Sir John has rather improved upon the original by adding new scenes, than suffered it to be diminished in a translation, but the French and the English. taste was in that particular very different. We cannot better account for the ill success of this excellent piece, than in the words of Mr. Cibber's Apology for his own Life, when speaking of this play, he has the following observation; 'The character that delivers precepts of wisdom, is, in some sort, severe upon the auditor, for shewing him one wiser than himself; but when folly is his object, he applauds himself for being wiser than the coxcomb he laughs at, and who is not more pleased with an occasion to commend, than to accuse himself?'

Sir John Vanbrugh, it is said, had great facility in writing, and is not a little to be admired for the spirit, ease, and readiness, with which he produced his plays. Notwithstanding his extraordinary expedition, there is a clear and lively simplicity in his wit, that is equally distant from the pedantry of learning, and the lowness of scurrility. As the face of a fine lady, with her hair undressed, may appear in the morning in its brightest glow of beauty; such were the productions of Vanbrugh, adorned with only the negligent graces of nature.

Mr. Cibber observes, that there is something so catching to the ear, so easy to the memory in all he wrote, that it was observed by the actors of his time, that the stile of no author whatsoever gave the memory less trouble than that of Sir John Vanbrugh, which he himself has confirmed by a pleasing experience. His wit and humour was so little laboured, that his most entertaining scenes seemed to be no more than his common conversation committed to paper. As his conceptions were so full of life and humour, it is not much to be wondered at, if his muse should be sometimes too warm to wait the slow pace of judgment, or to endure the drudgery of forming a regular Fable to them.

That Sir John was capable of a great force of thinking, appears abundantly clear from that scene between Aesop and a country gentleman, who comes to complain of the bad conduct of those in power. The dialogue is at once sensible and animated. Aesop shews him what he reckoned the oppressions of the administration, flowed from the prejudices of ignorance, contemplated through the medium of popular discontent. In the interview between the Beau and the Philosopher, there is the following pretty fable. The Beau observes to Aesop, 'It is very well; it is very well, old spark; I say it is very well; because I han't a pair of plod shoes, and a dirty shirt, you think a woman won't venture upon me for husband.—Why now to shew you, old father, how little you philosophers know the ladies.—I'll tell you an adventure of a friend of mine.'

A Band, a Bob-wig and a Feather Attack'd a lady's heart together, The band in a most learned plea, Made up of deep philosophy, Told her, if she would please to wed A reverend beard, and take instead Of vigorous youth, Old solemn truth, With books, and morals into bed, How happy she would be.

The Bob, he talk'd of management, What wond'rous blessings Heav'n sent On care, and pains, and industry; And truly he must be so free, To own he thought your airy beaux, With powdered wigs, and dancing shoes, Were good for nothing (mend his soul) But prate and talk, and play the fool.

He said, 'twas wealth gave joy, and mirth, And that to be the dearest wife, Of one who laboured all his life, To make a mine of gold his own, And not spend sixpence when he'd done Was Heaven upon earth.

When these two blades had done, d'ye see. The Feather (as it might be me) Steps out sir from behind the skreen. With such an air and such a mien, Look you, old gentleman, in short, He quickly spoil'd the statesman's sport.

It prov'd such sunshine weather, That you must know at the first beck The lady leapt about his neck, And off they went together.

The reputation which Sir John gained by his comedies was rewarded with, greater advantages, than what arise from the usual profits of writing for the stage. He was appointed Clarencieux King at Arms, a place which he some time held, and at last disposed of. In August 1716 he was appointed surveyor of the works at Greenwich Hospital; he was likewise made comptroller-general of his Majesty's works, and surveyor of the gardens and waters, the profits of which places, collectively considered, must amount to a very considerable sum. In some part of our author's life (for we cannot justly ascertain the time) he gratified an inclination of visiting France. As curiosity no doubt induced him to pass over to that country, he lost no time in making such observations as could enable him to discern the spirit, and genius of that polite people. His taste for architecture excited him to take a survey of the fortifications in that kingdom; but the ardour of his curiosity drew him into a snare, out of which he found great difficulty to escape. When he was one day surveying some fortifications with the strictest attention, he was taken notice of by an Engineer, secured by authority, and then carried prisoner to the Bastile in Paris. The French were confirmed in suspicions of his design, by several plans being found in his possession at the time he was seized upon; but as the French, except in cases of Heresy, use their prisoners with gentleness and humanity, Sir John found his confinement so endurable, that he amus'd himself in drawing rude draughts of some comedies. This circumstance raising curiosity in Paris, several of the noblesse visited him in the Bastile, when Sir John, who spoke their language with fluency and elegance, insinuated himself into their favour by the vivacity of his wit, and the peculiarity of his humour. He gained so much upon their affections, that they represented him to the French King in an innocent light, and by that means procured his liberty some days before the sollicitation came from: England.

Sir John Vanbrugh formed a project of building a stately theatre in the Hay-market, for which: he had interest enough, to raise a subscription of thirty persons of quality at 100 l. each, in consideration whereof, every subscriber for his own life, should be admitted to whatever entertainments should be publickly performed there, without farther payment for entrance.

On the first stone that was laid in this theatre, were inscribed the words LITTLE WHIG, as a compliment to a lady of extraordinary beauty, then the celebrated toast, and pride of that party. In the year 1706 when this house was finished, Mr. Betterton and his copartners put themselves under the direction of Sir John Vanbrugh and Mr. Congreve; imagining that the conduct of two such eminent authors would restore their ruined affairs; but they found their expectations were too sanguine, for though Sir John was an expeditious writer, yet Mr. Congreve was too judicious to let any thing come unfinished out of his hands; besides, every proper convenience of a good theatre had been sacrificed to shew the audience a vast triumphal piece of architecture, in which plays, by means of the spaciousness of the dome, could not be successfully represented, because the actors could not be distinctly heard.

Not long before this time the Italian Opera began to steal into England, but in as rude a disguise, and as unlike itself as possible; notwithstanding which the new monster pleaded, though it had neither grace, melody, nor action to recommend it. To strike in therefore with the prevailing fashion, Vanbrugh and Congreve opened their New Theatre in the Hay-market, with a translated Opera, set to Italian music, called The Triumph of Love, but it met with a cold reception, being performed only three days, to thin houses.

Immediately upon the failure of the Opera, Vanbrugh produced his comedy called The Confederacy, greatly improved from the Bourgois a la mode of Dancour. The success of this play was not equal to its merit; for it is written in, an uncommon vein of humour, and abounds with the most lively strokes of raillery. The prospects of gain from this theatre were so very unpromising, that Congreve, in a few months, gave up his share and interest in the government wholly to Sir John Vanbrugh; who being now sole proprietor of the house, was under a necessity to exert himself in its support. As he had a happier talent for throwing the English spirit into his translations of French plays, than any former author who had borrowed from them, he, in the same season, gave the public three more of that kind, viz.

1. The Cuckold in Conceit, from the Cocu imaginaire of Moliere.

2. Squire Treelooby, from his Monsieur de Pourceaugnac.

3. The Mistake, from the Depit Amoureux of the same Author[A].

However well executed these pieces were, yet they came to the ear in the same undistinguished utterance, by which almost all their plays had equally suffered; for as few could plainly hear, it was not likely a great many would applaud.

In this situation it appears, that nothing but the union of the two companies could restore the stage to its former reputation.

Sir John Vanbrugh therefore, tired of theatrical management, thought of disposing of his whole farm to some industrious tenant, that might put it into better condition. It was to Mr. Owen Swiny, that in the exigence of his affairs, he made an offer of his actors under such agreements of salary as might be made with them; and of his house, cloaths, and scenes, with the Queen's license to employ them, upon payment of the casual rent of five pounds every acting day, and not to exceed 700 l. per annum. With this proposal Mr. Swiny complied, and governed that stage till another great theatrical revolution.

There are two plays of our author not yet mentioned, viz. The False Friend, a Comedy; acted in 1698, and A Journey to London, a Comedy; which he left unfinished. This last piece was finished by Mr. Cibber to a very great advantage, and now is one of the best comedies in our language. Mr. Cibber, in his prologue, takes particular notice of our author's virtuous intention in composing this piece, which, he says, was to make some amends for those loose scenes, which in the fire of his youth he had with more regard to applause, than virtue, exhibited to the public: but this design will be best understood by inserting the prologue.

PROLOGUE.

This play took birth from principles of truth, To make amends for errors past, of youth. A bard that's now no more, in riper days, Conscious review'd the licence of his plays: And tho' applause his wanton muse had fir'd, Himself condemn'd what sensual minds admir'd. At length he own'd that plays should let you see Not only what you are, but ought to be: Though vice was natural, 'twas never meant, The stage should shew it, but for punishment! Warm with that thought his muse once more took flame, Resolv'd to bring licentious life to shame. Such was the piece, his latest pen design'd', But left no traces of his plan behind. Luxurious scenes, unprun'd, or half contriv'd; Yet, through the mass, his native fire surviv'd: Rough as rich oar, in mines the treasure lay, Yet still 'twas rich, and forms at length a play. In which the bold compiler boasts no merit, But that his pains have sav'd you scenes of spirit. Not scenes that would a noisy joy impart, But such as hush the mind, and warm the heart. From praise of hands, no sure account he draws, But fix'd attention is, sincere applause. If then (for hard you'll own the task) his art Can to those Embrion scenes new life impart; The living proudly would exclude his lays, And to the buried bard resign the praise.

Sir John indeed appears to have been often sensible of the immorality of his scenes; for in the year 1725 when the company of comedians was called upon, in a manner that could not be resisted, to revive the Provok'd Wife, the author, who was conscious how justly it was exposed to censure, thought proper to substitute a new scene in the fourth act, in place of another, in which, in the wantonness of his wit and humour, he had made a Rake talk like a Rake, in the habit of a Clergyman. To avoid which offence, he put the same Debauchee into the Undress of a Woman of Quality; for the character of a fine lady, it seems, is not reckoned so indelibly sacred, as that of a Churchman. Whatever follies he exposed in the petticoat kept him at least clear of his former imputed prophaneness, and appeared now to the audience innocently ridiculous.

This ingenious dramatist died of a quinsey at his house in Whitehall, on the 26th of March 1726. He was a man of a lively imagination, of a facetious, and engaging humour, and as he lived esteemed by all his acquaintance, so he died without leaving ons enemy to reproach his memory; a felicity which few men of public employments, or possessed of so distinguished a genius, ever enjoyed. He has left behind him monuments of fame, which can never perish but with taste and politeness.

[Footnote A: The two first were never printed from Sir John's manuscript.]

* * * * *

Sir RICHARD STEELE, Knt.

This celebrated genius was born in Ireland. His father being a counsellor at law, and private secretary to James duke of Ormond, he went over with his grace to that kingdom, when he was raised to the dignity of lord lieutenant[A]. Our author when but very young, came over into England; and was educated at the Charter-House school in London, where Mr. Addison was his school-fellow, and where they contracted a friendship which continued firm till the death of that great man.

His inclination leading him to the army, he rode for some time privately in the guards; in which station, as he himself tells us, in his Apology for his Writings, he first became an author, a way of life in which the irregularities of youth are considered as a kind of recommendation.

Mr. Steele was born with the most violent propension to pleasure, and at the same time was master of so much good sense, as to be able to discern the extreme folly of licentious courses, their moral unfitness, and the many calamities they naturally produce. He maintained a perpetual struggle between reason and appetite. He frequently fell into indulgencies, which cost him many a pang of remorse, and under the conviction of the danger of a vicious life, he wrote his Christian Hero, with a design to fix upon his own mind a strong impression of virtue and religion. But this secret admonition to his conscience he judged too weak, and therefore in the year 1701 printed the book with his name prefixed, in hopes that a standing evidence against himself in the eyes of the world, might the more forcibly induce him to lay a restraint upon his desires, and make him ashamed of vice, so contrary to his own sense and conviction.

This piece was the first of any note, and is esteem'd by some as one of the best of Mr. Steele's works; he gained great reputation by it, and recommended himself to the regard of all pious and good men. But while he grew in the esteem of the religious and worthy, he sunk in the opinion of his old companions in gaiety: He was reckoned by them to have degenerated from the gay, sprightly companion, to the dull disagreeable pedant, and they measured the least levity of his words and actions with the character of a Christian Hero. Thus he found himself slighted, instead of being encouraged for his declarations as to religion; but happily those who held him in contempt for his defence of piety and goodness were characters, with whom to be at variance is virtue. But Mr. Steele, who could not be content with the suffrage of the Good only, without the concurrence of the Gay, set about recovering the favour of the latter by innocent means: He introduced a Comedy on the stage, called Grief A-la-Mode, in which, tho' full of incidents that move laughter, and inspire chearfulness, virtue and vice appear just as they ought to do. This play was acted at the Theatre in Drury Lane 1702, and as nothing can make the town so fond of a man, as a successful play; so this, with some other particulars enlarged on to his advantage, recommended him to king William, and his name to be provided for was in the last table-book worn by his majesty. He had before this time procured a captain's commission in the lord Lucas's regiment, by the interest of lord Cutts, to whom he dedicated his Christian Hero, and who likewise appointed him his secretary: His next appearance as a writer, was in the office of Gazetteer, in which he observes in the same apology for himself, he worked faithfully, according to order, without ever erring against the rule observed by all ministers, to keep that paper very innocent, and insipid. The reproaches he heard every Gazette-day against the writer of it, inspired him with a fortitude of being remarkably negligent of what people said, which he did not deserve. In endeavouring to acquire this negligence, he certainly acted a prudent part, and gained the most important and leading advantage, with which, every author should set out.

Whoever writes for the public, is sure to draw down envy on himself from some quarter or other, and they who are resolved never to be pleased, consider him as too assuming, and discover their resentment by contempt. How miserable is the state of an author! It is his misfortune in common with the fair sex,

To please too little, or to please too much.

If he happens to be a successful writer, his friends who become then proud of his acquaintance, flatter him, and by soothing his vanity teach him to overrate his importance, and while he grasps at universal fame, he loses by too vigorous an effort, what he had acquired by diligence and application: If he pleases too little, that is, if his works are not read, he is in a fair way of being a great loser by his attempt to please. Mr. Steele still continued to write plays. In the year 1703 his Comedy, entitled the Tender Husband, or the Accomplished Fools, was acted at the Theatre in Drury-Lane; as his Comedy of the Lying-Lovers, or the Ladies Friendship, was likewise the year following, both with success; so that his reputation was now fully established.

In the year 1709 he began the Taller, the first of which was published on Tuesday April the 12th, and the last on Tuesday January the 2d, 1710-11. This paper greatly increasing his fame, he was preferred to be one of the commissioners of the stamp office. Upon laying down the Tatler, he set up, in concert with Mr. Addison, the Spectator, which was continued from March the 1st, 1710-11, to December the 6th 1712; and resumed June 18th 1714. and continued till December the 20th, the same year.

The Guardian was likewise published by them, in 1713, and in the October of the same year, Mr. Steele began a political paper, entitled the Englishman.

In the Spectator, Mr. Steele's papers are marked with the letter T. and in them are contained the most picturesque descriptions of low life, of which he was perfect matter. Humour was his talent, though not so much confined to that cast of writing to be incapable of painting very tender scenes; witness his Conscious Lovers, which never fails to draw tears; and in some of his Spectators he has written in so feeling a manner, that none can read them without emotion.

He had a strong inclination to find out the humours of low life, and to make himself master of them. When he was at Edinburgh, as one of the commissioners on the forfeited estates, he one day made a very splendid feast, and while his servants were surprized at the great preparations, and were expecting every moment to carry out his invitations to the company for whom they imagined it was prepared, he commanded them to go out to the street, and pick up whatever beggars, and poor people they saw, and invite them to his house: The servants obeyed, and Sir Richard soon saw himself at the head of 40 or 50 beggars, together with some poor decay'd tradesmen. After dinner he plied them with punch and wine, and when the frolic was ended, he declared, that besides the pleasure of feeding so many hungry persons, he had learned from them humour enough for a good comedy.

Our author was a man of the highest benevolence; he celebrates a generous action with a warmth that is only peculiar to a good heart; and however he may be blamed for want of oeconomy, &c. yet was he the most agreeable, and if we may be allowed the expression, the most innocent rake, that ever trod the rounds of indulgence.

He wrote several poetical pieces, particularly the Englishman's thanks to the duke of Marlborough, printed in 1711; a letter to Sir Miles Wharton, concerning Occasional Peers, dated March 5th, 1713. The Guardian of August the 7th, 1713; and the importance of Dunkirk considered, in defence of that Guardian, in a letter to the bailiff of Stockbridge: The French Faith represented in the present state of Dunkirk: The Crisis, a Letter to a Member of Parliament, concerning the bill to prevent the present Growth of Schism, dated May 28, 1714; and his Apology for himself and his Writings.

These pieces shew how much he was displeased with the last measures of Queen Anne, and were written to combat the Tory ministry; to oppose which he set about procuring a seat in Parliament; for which purpose he resigned his place of commissioner of the stamp-office, in June 1713, in a letter to the earl of Oxford, lord high treasurer, and was chosen member of the House of Commons, for the Borough of Stockbridge. But he did not long enjoy his seat in that house before he was expelled, on the 18th of March 1713, for writing the Englishman, being the close of the paper so called; and the Crisis[B].

In 1714 he published the Romish Ecclesiastical History of late years, and a paper intitled The Lover; the first of which appeared Thursday February 25, 1714, and another intitled the Reader, which began on Thursday April 22, the same year. In the sixth Number of this last paper, he gave an account of his design of writing the History of the Duke of Marlborough, from proper materials in his custody: the relation to commence from the date of his grace's commission, as captain-general, and plenipotentiary; and to end with the expiration of these commissions. But this noble design he lived not to execute, and the materials were afterwards returned to the duchess of Marlborough, who left them to Mr. Mallet, with a handsome gratuity for the execution of Sir Richard's design.

Soon after the accession of king George the 1st to the throne, Mr. Steele was appointed surveyor of the royal stables at Hampton-Court, and governor of the royal company of Comedians, by a patent, dated January 19, 1714-15. He was likewise put into the commission of the peace for the county of Middlesex; and in April 1715 received the honour of knighthood from his majesty. In the first parliament of that king, he was chosen for Borough-brigg in Yorkshire; and after the suppressing the Rebellion in the North, was appointed one of the commissioners of the forfeited estates in Scotland, where he received from several of the nobility and gentry of that part of the united kingdom the most distinguishing marks of respect. He contracted a friendship while in Scotland, with one Hart, a Presbyterian minister in Edinburgh, whom he afterwards honoured with his correspondence: This Hart he used merrily to stile the Hangman of the Gospel, for though he was a facetious good-natur'd man, yet he had fallen into a peculiar way of preaching what he called the Terrors of the Law, and denounced anathemas from the pulpit without reserve.

Sir Richard held frequent conversations with Hart, and other ministers, concerning the restoration of episcopacy, the antient church-government of that nation, and often observed that it was pity, when the two kingdoms were united in language, in dress, in politics, and in all essential points, even in religion, should yet be divided in the ecclesiastical administration, which still serves to maintain a kind of alienation between the people. He found many of the Scots well disposed towards prelacy; but the generality, who were taught to contemplate the church of England, with as much horror as that of Rome, could not soon be prevailed upon to return to it.

Sir Richard wished well to the interests of religion, and as he imagined that Union would promote it, he had some thoughts of proposing it at court, but the times were unfavourable. The Presbyterians had lately appeared active against the rebels, and were not to be disobliged; but such is now the good understanding between the episcopal and presbyterian parties, that a few concessions on the one side, and not many advances on the other, possibly might produce an amicable coalition, as it is chiefly in form, rather than in articles of religion, in which they differ.

In the year 1715 he published an account of the state of the Roman Catholic Religion throughout the World, translated from an Italian manuscript, with a dedication to the Pope, giving him a very particular account of the state of religion amongst the Protestants, and several other matters of importance, relating to Great-Britain; but this dedication is supposed to be written by another very eminent hand, more conversant in subjects of that nature than Sir Richard.

The same year our author published a Letter from the earl of Marr to the king, before his majesty's arrival in England; with some remarks on my lord's subsequent conduct; and the year following a second volume of the Englishman, and in 1718 an account of a Fish-Pool, which was a project of his for bringing fish to market alive, for which he obtained a patent.

In 1719 he published a pamphlet called the Spinster, and a Letter to the Earl of Oxford, concerning the Bill of Peerage, which bill he opposed in the House of Commons. Some time after, he wrote against the South-Sea-Scheme; his Crisis of posterity; and another piece intitled, A Nation a Family; and on Saturday January the 2d, 1719-20, he began a paper called the Theatre, during the course of which his patent of governor of the Royal Company of Comedians, being suspended by his majesty, he published, The State of the Case.

In the year 1722, he brought his Conscious Lovers on the stage, with prodigious success. This is the last and most finished of all Sir Richard's Comedies, and 'tis doubtful if there is upon the stage, any more instructing; that tends to convey a finer moral, or is better conducted in its design. We have already observed, that it is impossible to witness the tender scenes of this Comedy without emotion; that is, no man of feeling and humanity, who has experienced the délicate solicitudes of love and affection, can do it. Sir Richard has told us, that when one of the players told Mr. Wilks, that there was a General weeping for Indiana; he politely observed, that he would not fight the worse for that; and indeed what a noble school of morality would the stage be, if all those who write for it would observe such delicate chastity; they would then inforce an honourable and virtuous deportment, by the most insinuating and easy means; they would so allure the audience by the amiable form of goodness represented in her native loveliness, that he who could resist her charms, must be something more than wicked.

When Sir Richard finished this Comedy, the parts of Tom and Phillis were not then in it: He read it to Mr. Cibber, who candidly told him, that though he liked his play upon the whole, both in the cast of the characters and execution of them; yet, that it was rather too grave for an English audience, who want generally to laugh at a Comedy, and without which in their opinion, the end is not answered. Mr. Cibber then proposed the addition of some comic characters, with which Sir Richard agreed, and saw the propriety and force of the observation. This comedy (at Sir Richard's request) received many additions from, and were greatly improved by Mr. Cibber.—Our author dedicated this work to the king, who made him a present of 500 l.

Some years before his death, he grew paralytic, and retired to his seat at Langunner, near Caermarthen in Wales, where he died September the 1st, 1729; and was privately interred according to his own desire, in the church of Caermarthen.

Besides his writings above-mentionened, he began on Saturday the 17th of December, a weekly paper in quarto, called the Town-Talk, in a letter to a lady in the country; and another, intitled the Tea-Table: He had likewise planned a comedy which he intended to call The School of Action.—As Sir Richard was beloved when living, so his loss was sincerely regretted at his death. He was a man of undissembled, and extensive benevolence; a friend to the friendless, and as far as his circumstances would permit, the father of every orphan: His works are chaste, and manly, he himself admired virtue, and he drew her as lovely as she is: of his works it may be said, as Sir George Lyttleton in his prologue to Coriolanus observes of Thomson, that there are not in them

One corrupted, one immoral thought, A line which dying he could wish to blot.

He was a stranger to the most distant appearance of envy or malevolence, never jealous of any man's growing reputation, and so far from arrogating any praise to himself, from his conjunction with Mr. Addison, that he was the first who desired him to distinguish his papers in the Spectator, and after the death of that great man was a faithful executor of his fame, notwithstanding an aspersion which Mr. Tickell was so unjust to throw upon him. Sir Richard's greatest error was want of oeconomy, as appears from the two following instances related by the elegant writer of Mr. Savage's Life, to whom that gentleman communicated them.

'Savage was once desired by Sir Richard, with an air of the utmost importance, to come very early to his house the next morning. Mr. Savage came as he had promised, found the chariot at the door, and Sir Richard waiting for him ready to go out. What was intended, and whither they were to go, Savage could not conjecture, and was not willing to inquire, but immediately seated himself with Sir Richard: The coachman was ordered to drive, and they hurried with the utmost expedition to Hyde-Park Corner, where they stopped at a petty tavern, and retired to a private room. Sir Richard then informed him, that he intended to publish a pamphlet, and that he desired him to come thither, that he might write for him. They soon sat down to the work, Sir Richard dictated, and Savage wrote, till the dinner which had been ordered, was put upon the table. Savage was surprised at the meanness of the entertainment, and after some hesitation, ventured to ask for wine, which Sir Richard, not without reluctance ordered to be brought. They then finished their dinner, and proceeded in their pamphlet, which they concluded in the afternoon. Mr. Savage then imagined his task over, and expected that Sir Richard would call for the reckoning and return home; but his expectations deceived him, for Sir Richard told him he was without money and that the pamphlet must be sold before the dinner could be paid for; and Savage was therefore obliged to go and offer their new production to sale for two guineas, which with some difficulty he obtained. Sir Richard then returned home, having retired that day only to avoid his creditors, and composed the pamphlet only to discharge his reckoning.' As Savage has said nothing to the contrary, it is reasonable to conjecture that he had Sir Richard's permission to use his name to the Bookseller, to whom he made an offer of it for two guineas, otherwise it is very improbable that the pamphlet should be sold at all in so short a time.

The other instance is equally uncommon with the former: Sir Richard having incited to his house a great number of persons of the first quality, they were surprized at the number of liveries which surrounded the table; and after dinner, when wine and mirth had set them free from the observation of rigid ceremony, one of them enquired of Sir Richard, how such an expensive train of domestics could be consistent with his fortune? Sir Richard frankly confessed, that they were fellows of whom he would very willingly be rid. And being then asked why he did not discharge them; he declared that they were Bailiffs who had introduced themselves with an execution, and whom, since he could not send them away, he had thought it convenient to imbellish with liveries, that they might do him credit whilst they staid.

His friends were diverted with the expedient, and by paying the debt, discharged the attendance, having obliged Sir Richard to promise that they should never find him again graced with a retinue of the same kind.

He married to his first wife a gentlewoman of Barbadoes, with whom he had a valuable Plantation there on the death of her brother, who was taken by the French at Sea as he was coming to England, and died in France. This wife dying without issue, he married Mary, the daughter of Jonathan Scurlock of Langunnoc in Carmarthanshire, esq; by whom he had one son, Eugene, who died young: of his two daughters, one only is living; which lady became sole heiress to a handsome estate in Wales. She was married, when young, to the hon. John Trevor, esq; one of the judges of the principality of Wales; who since, by the death of his brother, has taken his seat in the House of Lords, as Baron Trevor, &c.

[Footnote A: General Dictionary, vol. ix, p. 395.]

[Footnote B: His expulsion was owing to the spleen of the then prevailing party; what they design'd as a disgrace, prov'd an honour to him.]

* * * * *

ANDREW MARVEL, Esq;[A]

This ingenious gentleman was the son of Mr. Andrew Marvel, Minister and Schoolmaster of Kingston upon Hull in Yorkshire, and was born in that town in the year 1620[B]. He was admitted into Trinity College in Cambridge December 14, 1633, where he had not been long before his studies were interrupted by the following accident:

Some Jesuits with whom he familiarly conversed, observing in him a genius beyond his years, used their utmost efforts to proselyte him to their faith, which they imagined they could more easily accomplish while he was yet young. They so far succeeded as to seduce him from the college, and carry him to London, where, after some months absence, his father found him in a Bookseller's shop, and prevailed upon him to return to the college.

He afterwards pursued his studies with the most indefatigable application, and in the year 1638, took the degree of bachelor of arts, and the same year was admitted scholar of the house, that is, of the foundation at Trinity College[C]. We have no farther account of him for several years after this, only that he travelled through the most polite parts of the world, but in what quality we are not certain, unless in that of secretary to the embassy at Constantinople.

While our author was in France, he wrote his poem entitled Cuidam, qui legendo Scripturam, descripsit Formam, Sapientiam, Sortemque Authoris. Illustrissimo Viro Domino Lanceloto Josepho de Maniban Grammatomanti.

The person to whom he addresses these verses was an Abbot, famous for entering into the qualities of those whom he had never seen, and prognosticating their good, or bad fortune from an inspection of their hand-writing.

During the troubles of the Republic we find him tutor to one Mr. Dutton, a young gentleman; as appears from an original letter of his to Oliver Cromwel. This letter sent to so extraordinary a person by a man of Mr. Marvel's consequence, may excite the reader's curiosity, with which, he shall be gratified. It carries in it much of that stiffness and pedantry peculiar to the times, and is very different from the usual stile of our author.

'May it please your LORDSHIP,

'It might perhaps seem fit for me to seek out words to give your excellence thanks for myself. But indeed the only civility, which it is fit for me to practise with so eminent a person, is to obey you, and to perform honestly this work which you have set me about. Therefore I shall use the time that your lordship is pleased to allow me for writing, only to that purpose for which you have given me it, that is to render you some account of Mr. Dutton. I have taken care to examine him several times in the presence of Mr. Oxenbridge[D], as those who weigh and tell over money, before some witnesses e'er they take charge of it; for I thought that there might be possibly some lightness in the coin, or error in the telling, which hereafter I might be bound to make good. Therefore Mr. Oxenbridge is the best to make your excellence an impartial relation thereof; I shall only say, that I shall strive according to my best understanding to increase whatsoever talent he may have already. Truly he is of a gentle, and waxen disposition; and, God be praised, I cannot say that he hath brought with him any evil impression; and I hope to set nothing upon his spirit, but what shall be of a good sculpture. He hath in him two things, which make youth most easily to be managed, modesty, which is the bridle to vice, and emulation, which is the spur to virtue. And the care which your excellency is pleased to take of him, is no small encouragement, and shall be represented to him; but above all, I shall labour to make him sensible of his duty to God, for then we begin to serve faithfully, when we consider that he is our master; and in this both he and I owe infinitely to your lordship, for having placed in so godly a family as that of Mr. Oxenbridge, whose doctrine and example are like a book and a map, not only instructing the ear, but demonstrating to the eye which way we ought to travel. I shall upon occasion henceforward inform your excellency of any particularities in our little affairs. I have no more at present but to give thanks to God for your lordship, and to beg grace of him, to approve myself.

* * * * *

Mr. Marvel's first appearance in public business at home, was, in being assistant to Milton as Latin secretary to the Protector. He himself tells us, in a piece called The Rehearsal Transposed, that he never had any, not the remotest relation to public matters, nor correspondence with the persons then predominant, until the year 1657, when indeed, says he, 'I entered into an employment, for which I was not altogether improper, and which I considered to be the most innocent, and inoffensive towards his Majesty's affairs of any in that usurped, and irregular government, to which all men were then exposed; and this I accordingly discharged, without disobliging any one person, there having been opportunities, and endeavours since his Majesty's happy return, to have discovered, had it been otherwise.'

A little before the Restoration, he was chosen by his native town, Kingston upon Hull, to sit in that Parliament which began at Westminster April 25, 1660, and again after the Restoration for that which began at the same place May 8, 1661. In this station our author discharged his trust with the utmost fidelity, and always shewed a peculiar regard for those he represented; for he constantly sent the particulars of every proceeding in the House, to the heads of the town for which he was elected; and to those accounts he always joined his own opinion. This respectful behaviour gained so much on their affections, that they allowed him an honourable pension to his death, all which time he continued in Parliament. Mr. Marvel was not endowed with the gift of eloquence, for he seldom spoke in the house; but was however capable of forming an excellent judgment of things, and was so acute a discerner of characters, that his opinion was greatly valued, and he had a powerful influence over many of the Members without doors. Prince Rupert particularly esteemed him, and whenever he voted agreeable to the sentiments of Mr. Marvel, it was a saying of the opposite party, he has been with his tutor. The intimacy between this illustrious foreigner, and our author was so great, that when it was unsafe for the latter to have it known where he lived, on account of some mischief which was threatened him, the prince would frequently visit him in a disguised habit. Mr. Marvel was often in such danger of assassination, that he was obliged to have his letters directed to him in another name, to prevent any discovery that way. He made himself obnoxious to the government, both by his actions, and writings; and notwithstanding his proceedings were all contrary to his private interest, nothing could ever make his resolution, of which the following is a notable instance, and transmits our author's name with lustre to posterity.

One night he was entertained by the King, who had often been delighted with his company: his Majesty next day sent the lord treasurer Danby to find out his lodging; Mr. Marvel, then rented a room up two pair of stairs, in a little court in the Strand, and was writing when the lord treasurer opened the door abruptly upon him. Surprized at the sight of so unexpected a visitor, Mr. Marvel told his lordship, that he believed he had mistaken his way; the lord Danby replied, not now I have found Mr. Marvel: telling him that he came with a message from his Majesty, which was to know what he could do to serve him? his answer was, in his usual facetious manner, that it was not in his Majesty's power to serve him: but coming to a serious explanation of his meaning, he told the lord treasurer, that he well knew the nature of courts, and that whoever is distinguished by a Prince's favour, is certainly expected to vote in his interest. The lord Danby told him, that his Majesty had only a just sense of his merits, in regard to which alone, he desired to know whether there was any place at court he could be pleased with. These offers, though, urged with the greatest earnestness, had no effect upon him; he told the lord treasurer, that he could not accept it with honour, for he must either be ungrateful to the King by voting against him, or betray his country by giving his voice against its interest, at least what he reckoned so. The only favour therefore which he begged of his Majesty, was, that he would esteem him as dutiful a subject as any he had, and more in his proper interest in rejecting his offers, than if he had embraced them. The lord Danby finding no arguments would prevail, told him, the King had ordered a thousand pounds for him, which he hoped he would accept, 'till he could think what farther to ask of his Majesty. This last temptation was refused with the same stedfastness of mind as the first.

The reader must have already taken notice that Mr. Marvel's chief support was the pension allowed him by his constituents, that his lodgings, were mean, and consequently his circumstances at this time could not be affluent. His resisting these temptations therefore in such a situation, was perhaps one of the most heroic instances of patriotism the Annals of England can furnish. But his conduct will be still heightened into a more amiable light, when it is related, that as soon as the lord treasurer had taken his leave, he was obliged to send to a friend to borrow a guinea. As the most powerful allurements of riches, and honour, could never seduce him to relinquish the interest of his country, so not even the most immense dangers could deter him from pursuing it. In a private letter to a friend from Highgate, in which he mentions the insuperable hatred of his foes to him, and their design of murthering him, he has these words; Praeterea magis eccidere metuo quam occidi, non quod vitam tanti aestimem, sed ne imparatus moriar, i.e., 'Besides, I am more apprehensive of killing, than being killed, not that I value life so much, but that I may not die unprepared.' Mr. Marvel did not remain an unconcerned member of the state, when he saw encroachments made upon it both by the civil, and ecclesiastical powers. He saw that some of the bishops had formed an idea of protestantism very different from the true one, and were making such advances towards popery, as would soon issue in a reconciliation. Amongst these ecclesiastics, none was so forward as Dr. Samuel Parker, who published at London 1672 in 8vo. bishop Bramhal's Vindication of himself, and the Episcopal Clergy, from the Presbyterian charge of Popery, as it is managed by Mr. Baxter in his Treatise on the Grotian Religion. Dr. Parker likewise preached up the doctrine of Non-resistance, which slavish principle is admirably calculated to prepare the people for receiving any yoke. Marvel, whose talent consisted in drollery, more than in serious reasoning, took his own method of exposing those opinions. He wrote a piece called The Rehearsal Transposed, in which he very successfully ridiculed Dr. Parker. This ludicrous essay met with several answers, some serious, and others humorous; we shall not here enumerate all the Rejoinders, Replies, and Animad-versions upon it. Wood himself confesses, who was an avowed enemy to Marvel, 'that Dr. Parker judged it more prudent rather to lay down the cudgels, than to enter the lists again, with an untowardly combatant, so hugely well versed, and experienced, in the then newly refined art of sporting, and jeering buffoonery.' And bishop Burnet tells us in the History of his own Time, 'That Dr. Parker, after he had for some years entertained the nation with several virulent books, was attacked by the liveliest droll of the age, who wrote in a burlesque stile, but with so peculiar, and entertaining a conduct, that from the King down to the tradesman, his book was read with great pleasure. This not only humbled Parker, but the whole party, for the author of The Rehearsal Transposed, had all the men of wit on his side.' Dr. Swift likewise in his Apology for the Tale of a Tub, speaking of the usual fate of common answerers to books, and how short-lived their labours are, observes, 'That there is indeed an exception, when any great genius thinks it worth his while to expose a foolish piece; so we still read Marvel's answer to Parker with pleasure, though the book it answers be sunk long ago.'

The next controversy in which we find Mr. Marvel engaged, was with an antagonist of the pious Dr. Croft, bishop of Hereford, who wrote a discourse entitled The Naked Truth, or A True State of the Primitive Church: By an humble Moderator. Dr. Turner, fellow of St. John's College, wrote Animadversions upon this book; Mr. Marvel's answer to these Animadversions, was entitled Mr. Smirk, or The Divine in Mode; being certain Annotations upon the Animadversions on The Naked Truth, together with a Short Historical Essay concerning General Councils, Creeds, and Impositions in Matters of Religion, printed 1676.

Our author's next work was An Account of the Growth of Popery, and Arbitrary Government in England; more particularly from the long prorogation of November 1675, ending February 15, 1676, 'till the meeting of Parliament July 15, 1677, printed in folio 1678. Our author in a letter dated June 10, 1678, wrote thus; 'There came out about Christmas last here, a large book concerning the Growth of Popery, and Arbitrary Government. There have been great rewards offered in private, and considerable, in the Gazette, to any, who would inform of the author, and Printer, but not yet discovered. Three or four printed books since have described (as near as was proper to go, the man being a member of Parliament) Mr. Marvel to be the author, but if he had, he surely could not have escaped being questioned in Parliament, or 'Some other place.' This book was so offensive to the court at that time, that an order was published in these words,

'Whereas there have been lately printed, and published several seditious, and scandalous libels against the proceedings of both Houses of Parliament, and other his Majesty's Courts of Justice, to the dishonour of his Majesty's government, and the hazard of the public peace, these are to give notice, that what person soever shall discover unto one of the secretaries of state, the printer, publisher, author, or hander to the press of any of the said libels, so that full evidence may be made thereof to a Jury, without mentioning the informer, especially one libel, entitled An Account of the Growth of Popery; and another called A Reasonable Argument to all the Grand Juries, &c. the discoverer shall be rewarded as follows; he shall have fifty pounds for such discovery as aforesaid, of the printer or publisher of it from the press, and for the hander of it to the press, one hundred pounds.'

Mr. Marvel begins this book with a panegyric on the constitution of the English government, shewing how happy the people are under such wholesome laws, which if faithfully observed, must make a people happy, and a monarch great. He observes, that the king and the subject are equally under the laws; and that the former is no longer king than he continues to obey them. 'So that, says he, the kings of England, are in nothing inferior to other princes, save in being more abridg'd from injuring their own subjects, but have as large a field as any of external felicity, wherein to exercise their own virtue, and to reward and encourage it in others. In short there is nothing that comes nearer the divine perfection, than when the monarch, as with us, enjoys a capacity of doing all the good imaginable to mankind, under a disability of all that is evil.'

After slightly tracing popery from earlier times, he begins with the Dutch war in 1665; but dwells most upon the proceedings at Rome, from November 1675, to July 1677. He relates the occasion of the Dutch war, shews that the papists, and the French in particular, were the true springs of all our councils; and draws the following picture of popery.

'It is such a thing, as cannot but for want of a word to express it, be called a religion; nor is it to be mentioned with that civility, which is otherwise decent to be used in speaking of the differences of human opinions about divine matters; were it either open Juadism, or plain Turkery, or, there is yet a certain Bona Fides in the most extravagant belief, and the sincerity of an erroneous profession may render it more pardonable: But this is a compound of all the three, an extract of whatever is most ridiculous or impious in them, incorporated with more peculiar absurdities of its own, in which those were deficient; and all this deliberately contrived, and knowingly carried on, by the solid imposture of priests, under the name of Christianity.'

This great man died, not without strong suspicions of being poisoned, August 16, 1678, in the 58th year of his age, and was interred in the church of St. Giles's in the Fields; and in the year 1688 the town of Kingston upon Hull contributed a sum of money to erect a monument over him, in St. Giles's church, for which an epitaph was composed by an able hand; but the minister of that church, piously forbad both the inscription and monument to be placed there.

Mr. Wood tells us, that in his conversation, he was very modest, and of few words; and Mr. Cooke observes, 'that he was very reserved among people he did not very well know; but a most delightful, and improving companion amongst his friends.'

In the year 1680, his miscellaneous poems were published, to which is prefixed this advertisement. 'These are to certify every ingenious reader, that all these poems, as also the other things in this book contained, are printed according to the exact copies of my late dear husband, under his own hand writing, both found since his death, among his other papers.

Witness my hand,

MARY MARVEL.

But Mr. Cooke informs us, 'that these were published with a mercenary view; and indeed not at all to the honour of the deceased, by a woman with whom he lodged, who hoped by this stratagem to share in what he left behind him.'

He was never married, and the same gentleman observes in another place, that in the editions of 1681, there are such gross errors, especially in the Latin Poems, as make several lines unintelligible; and that in the volume of Poems on Affairs of State, the same mistakes are as frequent; and in those, some pieces are attributed to our author, which he never wrote. Most of his Poems printed in Dryden's Miscellanies are so imperfect, that whole stanzas are omitted in many places.

These Mr. Cooke has restored in his edition of the works of Andrew Marvel, Esq; printed at London 1725, in two volumes, and corrected such faults as in either of the two former editions obscure the sense: in this edition are also added, some poems from original manuscripts. Great care has likewise been taken by Mr. Cooke, to retrench such pieces as he was sure were not genuine.

Mr. Marvel, considered as a statesman, makes a more conspicuous figure than any of the age in which he lived, the proceeding, or the subsequent: He possessed the first quality of a statesman, that is, inviolable integrity, and a heart so confirmed against corruption, that neither indigence, a love of pomp or even dangers the most formidable, could move his settled purpose, to pursue in every respect, the interest of his country.

That Marvel understood the true interest of his country, is abundantly clear, from the great reverence paid to his opinion, by such persons as were most able to discern, and most disposed to promote its welfare. He has succeeded to a miracle in the droll way of writing; and when he assumes a severity, and writes seriously his arguments and notions are far removed from imbecility.

As a poet, I cannot better delineate his character than in the words of Mr. Cooke, 'There are few of his poems (says he) that have not something very pleasing in them, and some he must be allowed to have excelled in; most of them seem to be the effect of a lively genius, and manly sense, but at the same time seem to want that correctness he was capable of making. His most finished pieces are upon Milton's Paradise Lost, and upon Blood's stealing the crown; the latter of which is very satirical.'

On BLOOD's stealing the Crown.

When daring Blood, his rent to have regain'd, Upon the English diadem distrain'd; He chose the cassoc, circingle, and gown, The fittest mask for one that robs the crown: But his lay-pity underneath prevail'd, And, while he sav'd the keeper's life, he fail'd. With the priest's vestment had he but put on The prelate's cruelty, the crown had gone.

'In his state Poems, is contained much of the secret history of king Charles the IId, in which time they were all written. They were composed on various occasions, and chiefly to expose a corrupt ministry, and the violence of those who were for persecuting all who differed from them in opinion. He has several Poems in Latin, some of which he translated into English, and one in Greek. They have each their proper merit; he discovers a great facility in writing the Latin tongue. There are some small pieces of his in prose, which ought not to escape observation. From his letter to Sir John Trott, there seems to have been a friendly correspondence between him and that gentleman. By his Familiar Letters, we may easily judge what part of his works are laboured, and what not. But of all his pieces in Prose, the King's Mock-Speech to both Houses of Parliament, has most of spirit, and humour. As it will furnish the best specimen of Mr. Marvel's genius for drollery, as well as the character of that prince and ministry, we shall here insert it, as a performance of the most exquisite humour we have ever seen.

His Majesty's most gracious Speech to both Houses of Parliament.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

'I told you, at our last meeting, the winter was the fittest time for business, and truly I thought so, till my lord treasurer assured me the spring was the best season for sallads and subsidies. I hope therefore, that April will not prove so unnatural a month, as not to afford some kind showers on my parched exchequer, which gapes for want of them. Some of you, perhaps, will think it dangerous to make me too rich; but I do not fear it; for I promise you faithfully, whatever you give me I will always want; and although in other things my word may be thought a slender authority, yet in that, you may rely on me, I will never break it.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

I can bear my straits with patience; but my lord treasurer does protest to me, that the revenue, as it now stands, will not serve him and me too. One of us must suffer for it, if you do not help me. I must speak freely to you, I am under bad circumstances, for besides my harlots in service, my Reformado Concubines lie heavy upon me. I have a passable good estate, I confess, but, God's-fish, I have a great charge upon't. Here's my lord treasurer can tell, that all the money designed for next summer's guards must, of necessity, be applyed to the next year's cradles and swadling-cloths. What shall we do for ships then? I hint this only to you, it being your business, not mine. I know, by experience, I can live without ships. I lived ten years abroad without, and never had my health better in my life; but how you will be without, I leave to yourselves to judge, and therefore hint this only by the by: I do not insist upon it. There's another thing I must press more earnestly, and that is this: It seems, a good part of my revenue will expire in two or three years, except you will be pleased to continue it. I have to say for't; pray why did you give me so much as you have done, unless you resolve to give as fast as I call for it? The nation hates you already for giving so much, and I'll hate you too, if you do not give me more. So that if you stick not to me, you must not have a friend in England. On the other hand, if you will give me the revenue I desire, I shall be able to do those things for your religion and liberty, that I have had long in my thoughts, but cannot effect them without a little more money to carry me through. Therefore look to't, and take notice, that if you do not make me rich enough to undo you, it shall lie at your doors. For my part, I wash my hands on't. But that I may gain your good opinion, the best way is to acquaint you what I have done to deserve it, out of my royal care for your religion and your property. For the first, my proclamation is a true picture of my mind. He that cannot, as in a glass, see my zeal for the church of England, does not deserve any farther satisfaction, for I declare him willful, abominable, and not good. Some may, perhaps, be startled, and cry, how comes this sudden change? To which I answer, I am a changling, and that's sufficient, I think. But to convince men farther, that I mean what I say, there are these arguments.

First, I tell you so, and you know I never break my word.

Secondly, my lord treasurer says so, and he never told a lye in his life.

Thirdly, my lord Lauderdale will undertake it for me; and I should be loath, by any art of mine, he should forfeit the credit he has with you.

If you desire more instances of my zeal, I have them for you. For example, I have converted my natural sons from Popery; and I may say, without vanity, it was my own work, so much the more peculiarly mine than the begetting them. 'Twould do one's heart good to hear how prettily George can read already in the Psalter. They are all fine children, God bless 'em, and so like me in their understandings! But, as I was saying, I have, to please you, given a pension to your favourite, my lord Lauderdale; not so much that I thought he wanted it, as that you would take it kindly. I have made Carwel duchess of Portsmouth, and marry'd her sister to the earl of Pembroke. I have, at my brother's request, lent my lord Inchequin into Barbary, to settle the Protestant religion among the Moors, and an English interest at Tangier. I have made Crew bishop of Durham, and, at the first word of my lady Portsmouth, Prideaux bishop of Chichester. I know not, for my part, what factious men would have; but this I am sure of, my predecessors never did any thing like this, to gain the good-will of their subjects. So much for your religion, and now for your property. My behaviour to the bankers is a public instance; and the proceedings between Mrs. Hyde and Mrs. Sutton, for private ones, are such convincing evidences, that it will be needless to say any more to't.

I must now acquaint you, that, by my lord treasurer's advice, I made a considerable retrenchment upon my expences in candies and charcoal, and do not intend to stop there, but will, with your help, look into the late embezzlements of my dripping-pans and kitchenstuff; of which, by the way, upon my conscience, neither my lord treasurer, nor my lord Lauderdale, are guilty. I tell you my opinion; but if you should find them dabling in that business, I tell you plainly, I leave 'em to you; for, I would have the world to know, I am not a man to be cheated.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

I desire you to believe me as you have found me; and I do solemnly promise you, that whatsoever you give me shall be specially managed with the same conduct, trust, sincerity, and prudence, that I have ever practiced, since my happy restoration.'

In order to shew the versification of Mr. Marvel, we shall add a beautiful dialogue between the resolved soul, and created pleasure. It is written with a true spirit of poetry, the numbers are various, and harmonious, and is one of the best pieces, in the serious way, of which he is author.

A DIALOGUE between the Resolved SOUL and Created PLEASURE.

Courage, my Soul, now learn to weild The weight of thine immortal shield. Close on thy head thy helmet bright; Ballance thy sword against the fight. See where an army, strong as fair, With silken banners spreads the air. Now, if thou be'st that thing divine, In this day's combat let it shine; And shew that nature wants an art To conquer one resolved heart.

PLEASURE.

Welcome the creation's guest, Lord of earth, and heaven's heir; Lay aside that warlike crest, And of nature's banquet share: Where the Souls of fruits and flow'rs, Stand prepar'd to heighten yours.

SOUL.

I sup above, and cannot stay, To bait so long upon the way.

PLEASURE.

On these downy pillows lye, Whose soft plumes will thither fly: On these roses, strew'd so plain Lest one leaf thy side should strain. SOUL.

My gentler rest is on a thought, Conscious of doing what I ought.

PLEASURE.

If thou be'st with perfumes pleas'd, Such as oft the gods appeas'd, Thou in fragrant clouds shalt show Like another god below.

SOUL.

A Soul that knows not to presume, Is heaven's, and its own, perfume.

PLEASURE.

Every thing does seem to vye Which should first attract thine eye; But since none deserves that grace, In this crystal view thy face.

SOUL.

When the creator's skill is priz'd, The rest is all but earth disguis'd.

PLEASURE.

Hark how music then prepares, For thy stay, these charming airs; Which the posting winds recall, And suspend the river's fall. SOUL.

Had I but any time to lose, On this I would it all dispose. Cease Tempter. None can chain a mind, Whom this sweet cordage cannot bind.

CHORUS.

Earth cannot shew so brave a sight, As when a single Soul does fence The batt'ry of alluring sense, And Heaven views it with delight. Then persevere; for still new charges sound; And if thou overcom'st thou shalt be crown'd.

PLEASURE.

All that's costly, fair, and sweet, Which scatteringly doth shine, Shall within one beauty meet, And she be only thine.

SOUL.

If things of sight such heavens be, What heavens are those we cannot see?

PLEASURE.

Wheresoe'er thy foot shall go The minted gold shall lye; Till thou purchase all below, And want new worlds to buy.

SOUL.

Wer't not for price who'd value gold? And that's worth nought that can be sold.

PLEASURE.

Wilt thou all the glory have That war or peace commend? Half the world shall be thy slave, The other half thy friend.

SOUL.

What friends, if to my self untrue? What slaves, unless I captive you?

PLEASURE.

Thou shalt know each hidden cause; And see the future time: Try what depth the centre draws; And then to heaven climb.

SOUL.

None thither mounts by the degree Of knowledge, but humility.

CHORUS.

Triumph, triumph, victorious Soul; The world has not one pleasure more; The rest does lye beyond the pole, And is thine everlasting store.

We shall conclude the life of Mr. Marvel, by presenting the reader with that epitaph, which was intended to be inscribed upon his tomb, in which his character is drawn in a very masterly manner.

Near this place Lieth the body of ANDREW MARVEL, Esq; A man so endowed by nature, So improved by education, study, and travel, So consummated, by experience and learning; That joining the most peculiar graces of wit With a singular penetration and strength of judgment, And exercising all these in the whole course of his life, With unalterable steadiness in the ways of virtue, He became the ornament and example of his age, Beloved by good men, fear'd by bad, admired by all, Tho' imitated, alas! by few; And scarce paralleled by any. But a tombstone can neither contain his character, Nor is marble necessary to transmit it to posterity. It is engraved in the minds of this generation, And will be always legible in his inimitable writings. Nevertheless He having served near twenty-years successively in parliament, And that, with such wisdom, integrity, dexterity, and courage, As became a true patriot, The town of Kingiton upon Hull, From whence he was constantly deputed to that Assembly, Lamenting in his death the public loss, Have erected this monument of their grief and gratitude, 1688.

He died in the 58th year of his age On the 16th day of August 1678.

Heu fragile humanum genus! heu terrestria vana! Heu quem spectatum continet urna virum!

[Footnote A: A disappointment occasioned our throwing this life out of the chronlogical order. But we hope the candid reader will pardon a fault of this kind: we only wish he may find nothing of more consequence to accuse us of.]

[Footnote B: Cook's Life of Andrew Marvel, Esq; prefixed to the first volume of Mr. Marvel's Works, London 1726.]

[Footnote C: Life ubi supri.]

[Footnote D: Mr. John Oxenbridge, who was made fellow of Eton College curing the civil war, but ejected at the Restoration; he died in New England, and was a very enthusiastic person.]

* * * * *

Mrs. ELIZABETH THOMAS,

This lady, who is known in the world by the poetial name of Corinna, seems to have been born for misfortunes; her very bitterest enemies could never brand her with any real crime, and yet her whole life has been one continued scene of misery[A]. The family from which she sprung was of a rank in life beneath envy, and above contempt. She was the child of an ancient, and infirm parent, who gave her life when he was dying himself, and to whose unhappy constitution she was sole heiress. From her very birth, which happened 1675, she was afflicted with fevers and defluxions, and being over-nursed, her constitution was so delicate and tender, that had she not been of a gay disposition, and possessed a vigorous mind, she must have been more unhappy than she actually was. Her father dying when she was scarce two years old, and her mother not knowing his real circumstances, as he was supposed from the splendour of his manner of life to be very rich, some inconveniencies were incurred, in bestowing upon him a pompous funeral, which in those times was fashionable. The mother of our poetess, in the bloom of eighteen, was condemned to the arms of this man, upwards of 60, upon the supposition of his being wealthy, but in which she was soon miserably deceived. When the grief, which so young a wife may be supposed to feel for an aged husband, had subsided, she began to enquire into the state of his affairs, and found to her unspeakable mortification, that he died not worth one thousand pounds in the world. As Mrs. Thomas was a woman of good sense, and a high spirit, she disposed of two houses her husband kept, one in town, the other in the county of Essex, and retired into a private, but decent country lodging. The chambers in the Temple her husband possessed, she sold to her brother for 450 l. which, with her husband's books of accounts, she lodged in her trustee's hands, who being soon after burnt out by the fire in the paper buildings in the temple (which broke out with such violence in the dead of night, that he saved nothing but his life) she lost considerably. Not being able to make out any bill, she could form no regular demand, and was obliged to be determined by the honour of her husband's clients, who though persons of the first fashion, behaved with very little honour to her. The deceased had the reputation of a judicious lawyer, and an accomplished gentleman, but who was too honest to thrive in his profession, and had too much humanity ever to become rich. Of all his clients, but one lady behaved with any appearance of honesty. The countess dowager of Wentworth having then lost her only daughter the lady Harriot (who was reputed the mistress of the duke of Monmouth) told Mrs. Thomas, 'that she knew she had a large reckoning with the deceased, but, says she, as you know not what to demand, so I know not what to pay; come, madam, I will do better for you than a random reckoning, I have now no child, and have taken a fancy to your daughter; give me the girl, I will breed her as my own, and provide for her as such when I die.' The widow thank'd her ladyship, but with a little too much warmth replied, 'she would not part with her child on any terms;' which the countess resented to such a degree, that she would never see her more, and dying in a few years, left 1500 l. per annum inheritance, at Stepney, to her chambermaid.

Thus were misfortunes early entailed upon this lady. A proposal which would have made her opulent for life, was defeated by the unreasonable fondness of her mother, who lived to suffer its dismal consequences, by tasting the bitterest distresses. We have already observed, that Mrs. Thomas thought proper to retire to the country with her daughter. The house where she boarded was an eminent Cloth-worker's in the county of Surry, but the people of the house proved very disagreeable. The lady had no conversation to divert her; the landlord was an illiterate man, and the rest of the family brutish, and unmannerly. At last Mrs. Thomas attracted the notice of Dr. Glysson, who observing her at church very splendidly dressed, sollicited her acquaintance. He was a valuable piece of antiquity, being then, 1684, in the hundredth year of his age. His person was tall, his bones very large, his hair like snow, a venerable aspect, and a complexion, which might shame the bloom of fifteen. He enjoyed a sound judgment, and a memory so tenacious, and clear, that his company was very engaging. His visits greatly alleviated the solitude of this lady. The last visit he made to Mrs. Thomas, he drew on, with much attention, a pair of rich Spanish leather gloves, embost on the backs, and tops with gold embroidery, and fringed round with gold plate. The lady could not help expressing her curiosity, to know the history of those gloves, which he seemed to touch with so much respect. He answered, 'I do respect them, for the last time I had the honour of approaching my mistress, Queen Elizabeth, she pulled them from her own Royal hands, saying, here Glysson, wear them for my sake. I have done so with veneration, and never drew them on, but when I had a mind to honour those whom I visit, as I now do you; and since you love the memory of my Royal mistress, take them, and preserve them carefully when I am gone.' The Dr. then went home, and died in a few days.

This gentleman's death left her again without a companion, and an uneasiness hung upon her, visible to the people of the house; who guessing the cause to proceed from solitude, recommended to her acquaintance another Physician, of a different cast from the former. He was denominated by them a conjurer, and was said to be capable of raising the devil. This circumstance diverted Mrs. Thomas, who imagined, that the man whom they called a conjurer, must have more sense than they understood. The Dr. was invited to visit her, and appeared in a greasy black Grogram, which he called his Scholar's Coat, a long beard, and other marks of a philosophical negligence. He brought all his little mathematical trinkets, and played over his tricks for the diversion of the lady, whom, by a private whisper, he let into the secrets as he performed them, that she might see there was nothing of magic in the case. The two most remarkable articles of his performance were, first lighting a candle at a glass of cold water (performed by touching the brim before with phosphorus, a chymical fire which is preserved in water and burns there) and next reading the smallest print by a candle of six in the pound, at a hundred yards distance in the open air, and darkest night. This was performed by a large concave-glass, with a deep pointed focus, quick-silvered on the backside and set in tin, with a socket for a candle, sconce fashion, and hung up against a wall. While the flame of the candle was diametrically opposite to the centre, the rays equally diverging, gave so powerful a light as is scarce credible; but on the least variation from the focus, the charm ceased. The lady discerning in this man a genius which might be improved to better purposes than deceiving the country people, desired him not to hide his talents, but to push himself in the world by the abilities of which he seemed possessed. 'Madam, said he, I am now a fiddle to asses, but I am finishing a great work which will make those asses fiddle to me.' She then asked what that work might be? He replied, 'his life was at stake if it took air, but he found her a lady of such uncommon candour, and good sense, that he should make no difficulty in committing his life and hope to her keeping.' All women are naturally fond of being trusted with secrets; this was Mrs. Thomas's failing: the Dr. found it out, and made her pay dear for her curiosity. 'I have been, continued he, many years in search of the Philosopher's Stone, and long master of the smaragdine-table of Hermes Trismegistus; the green and red dragons of Raymond Lully have also been obedient to me, and the illustrious sages themselves deign to visit me; yet is it but since I had the honour to be known to your ladyship, that I have been so fortunate as to obtain the grand secret of projection. I transmuted some lead I pulled off my window last night into this bit of gold.' Pleased with the sight of this, and having a natural propension to the study, the lady snatched it out of the philosopher's hand, and asked him why he had not made more? He replied, 'it was all the lead I could find.' She then commanded her daughter to bring a parcel of lead which lay in the closet, and giving it to the Chymist, desired him to transmute it into gold on the morrow. He undertook it, and the next day brought her an ingot which weighed two ounces, which with the utmost solemnity he avowed was the very individual lead she gave him, transmuted to gold.