Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III) by Samuel Johnson (best beach reads TXT) 📖

Of An

Antique Figure Or Building. Those Fragments Of The Learned, Which

Some Men Have Been So Proud Of Their Pains In collecting, Are Useless

Rarities, Without Form And Without Life, When Compared with These

Embryos, Which Wanted not Spirit Enough To Preserve Them; So That I

Cannot Help Thinking, That, If Some Of Them Were To Come Abroad, They

Would Be As Highly Valued by The Poets, As The Sketches Of Julio And

Titian Are By The Painters; Though There Is Nothing in them But A Few

Outlines, As To The Design And Proportion.

 

 

 

It Must Be Confessed, That Mr. Smith Had Some Defects In his Conduct,

Which Those Are Most Apt To Remember Who Could Imitate Him In nothing

Else. His Freedom With Himself Drew Severer Acknowledgments From Him Than

All The Malice He Ever Provoked was Capable Of Advancing, And He Did Not

Scruple To Give Even His Misfortunes The Hard Name Of Faults; But, If The

World Had Half His Good-Nature, All The Shady Parts Would Be Entirely

Struck Out Of His Character.

 

 

 

A Man, Who Under Poverty, Calamities, And Disappointments, Could Make So

Many Friends, And Those So Truly Valuable, Must Have Just And Noble Ideas

Of The Passion Of Friendship, In the Success Of Which Consisted the

Greatest, If Not The Only, Happiness Of His Life. He Knew Very Well What

Was Due To His Birth, Though Fortune Threw Him Short Of It In every Other

Circumstance Of Life. He Avoided making any, Though Perhaps Reasonable,

Complaints Of Her Dispensations, Under Which He Had Honour Enough To Be

Easy, Without Touching the Favours She Flung In his Way When Offered to

Him At The Price Of A More Durable Reputation. He Took Care To Have No

Dealings With Mankind In which He Could Not Be Just; And He Desired to

Be At No Other Expense In his Pretensions Than That Of Intrinsick Merit,

Which Was The Only Burden And Reproach He Ever Brought Upon His Friends.

He Could Say, As Horace Did Of Himself, What I Never Yet Saw Translated:

 

 

 

  Meo Sum Pauper In aere.

 

 

 

At His Coming to Town, No Man Was More Surrounded by All Those Who Really

Had Or Pretended to Wit, Or More Courted by The Great Men, Who Had Then A

Power And Opportunity Of Encouraging arts And Sciences, And Gave Proofs

Of Their Fondness For The Name Of Patron In many Instances, Which Will

Ever Be Remembered to Their Glory. Mr. Smith'S Character Grew Upon His

Friends By Intimacy, And Outwent The Strongest Prepossessions Which Had

Been Conceived in his Favour. Whatever Quarrel A Few Sour Creatures,

Whose Obscurity Is Their Happiness, May Possibly Have To The Age; Yet,

Amidst A Studied neglect, And Total Disuse Of All Those Ceremonial

Attendances, Fashionable Equipments, And External Recommendations,

Which Are Thought Necessary Introductions Into The _Grand Monde_, This

Gentleman Was So Happy As Still To Please; And Whilst The Rich, The Gay,

The Noble, And Honourable, Saw How Much He Excelled in wit And Learning,

They Easily Forgave Him All Other Differences. Hence It Was That Both His

Acquaintance And Retirements Were His Own Free Choice. What Mr. Prior

Observes Upon A Very Great Character Was True Of Him, "That Most Of His

Faults Brought Their Excuse With Them."

 

 

 

Those Who Blamed him Most, Understood Him Least, It Being the Custom Of

The Vulgar To Charge An Excess Upon The Most Complaisant, And To Form A

Character By The Morals Of A Few, Who Have Sometimes Spoiled an Hour Or

Two In good Company. Where Only Fortune Is Wanting to Make A Great Name,

That Single Exception Can Never Pass Upon The Best Judges And Most

Equitable Observers Of Mankind; And When The Time Comes For The World To

Spare Their Pity, We May Justly Enlarge Our Demands Upon Them For Their

Admiration.

 

 

 

Some Few Years Before His Death, He Had Engaged himself In several

Considerable Undertakings; In all Which He Had Prepared the World To

Expect Mighty Things From Him. I Have Seen About Ten Sheets Of His

English Pindar, Which Exceeded any Thing of That Kind I Could Ever Hope

For In our Own Language. He Had Drawn Out The Plan Of A Tragedy Of The

Lady Jane Grey, And Had Gone Through Several Scenes Of It. But He Could

Not Well Have Bequeathed that Work To Better Hands Than Where, I Hear, It

Is At Present Lodged; And The Bare Mention Of Two Such Names May Justify

The Largest Expectations, And Is Sufficient To Make The Town An Agreeable

Invitation.

 

 

 

His Greatest And Noblest Undertaking was Longinus. He Had Finished an

Entire Translation Of The Sublime, Which He Sent To The Reverend Mr.

Richard Parker, A Friend Of His, Late Of Merton College, An Exact Critick

In The Greek Tongue, From Whom It Came To My Hands. The French Version Of

Monsieur Boileau, Though Truly Valuable, Was Far Short Of It. He Proposed

A Large Addition To This Work, Of Notes And Observations Of His Own, With

An Entire System Of The Art Of Poetry, In three Books, Under The Titles

Of Thought, Diction, And Figure. I Saw The Last Of These Perfect, And

In A Fair Copy, In which He Showed prodigious Judgment And Reading; And

Particularly Had Reformed the Art Of Rhetorick, By Reducing that Vast

And Confused heap Of Terms, With Which A Long Succession Of Pedants Had

Encumbered the World, To A Very Narrow Compass, Comprehending all That

Was Useful And Ornamental In poetry. Under Each Head And Chapter, He

Intended to Make Remarks Upon All The Ancients And Moderns, The Greek,

Latin, English, French, Spanish, And Italian Poets, And To Note Their

Several Beauties And Defects.

 

 

 

What Remains Of His Works Is Left, As I Am Informed, In the Hands Of Men

Of Worth And Judgment, Who Loved him. It Cannot Be Supposed they Would

Suppress Any Thing that Was His, But Out Of Respect To His Memory, And

For Want Of Proper Hands To Finish What So Great A Genius Had Begun.

 

 

 

Such Is The Declamation Of Oldisworth, Written While His Admiration Was

Yet Fresh, And His Kindness Warm; And, Therefore, Such As, Without Any

Criminal Purpose Of Deceiving, Shows A Strong Desire To Make The Most Of

All Favourable Truth. I Cannot Much Commend The Performance. The Praise

Is Often Indistinct, And The Sentences Are Loaded with Words Of More Pomp

Than Use. There Is Little, However, That Can Be Contradicted, Even When A

Plainer Tale Comes To Be Told.

 

 

 

Edmund Neale, Known By The Name Of Smith, Was Born At Handley, The

Seat Of The Lechmeres, In worcestershire. The Year Of His Birth Is

Uncertain[126].

 

 

 

He Was Educated at Westminster. It Is Known To Have Been The Practice Of

Dr. Busby To Detain Those Youths Long At School, Of Whom He Had Formed

The Highest Expectations. Smith Took His Master'S Degree On The 8Th Of

July, 1696; He, Therefore, Was Probably Admitted into The University In

1689[127], When We May Suppose Him Twenty Years Old.

 

 

 

His Reputation For Literature In his College Was Such As Has Been Told;

But The Indecency And Licentiousness Of His Behaviour Drew Upon Him, Dec.

24, 1694, While He Was Yet Only Bachelor, A Publick Admonition, Entered

Upon Record, In order To His Expulsion. Of This Reproof The Effect Is Not

Known. He Was Probably Less Notorious. At Oxford, As We All Know,

Much Will Be Forgiven To Literary Merit; And Of That He Had Exhibited

Sufficient Evidence By His Excellent Ode On The Death Of The Great

Orientalist, Dr. Pocock, Who Died in 1691, And Whose Praise Must

Have Been Written By Smith When He Had Been Yet But Two Years In the

University.

 

 

 

This Ode, Which Closed the Second Volume Of The Musse Anglicanae, Though,

Perhaps, Some Objections May Be Made To Its Latinity, Is By Far The Best

Lyrick Composition In that Collection; Nor Do I Know Where To Find It

Equalled among The Modern Writers. It Expresses, With Great Felicity,

Images Not Classical In classical Diction: Its Digressions And Returns

Have Been Deservedly Recommended by Trapp, As Models For Imitation.

 

 

 

He Has Several Imitations Of Cowley:

 

 

 

  Vestitur Hinc Tot Sermo Coloribus

  Quot Tu, Pococki, Dissimilis Tui

  Orator Effers, Quot Vicissim

  Te Memores Celebrare Gaudent.

 

 

 

I Will Not Commend The Figure Which Makes The Orator _Pronounce Colours_,

Or Give To _Colours Memory_ And _Delight_. I Quote It, However, As An

Imitation Of These Lines:

 

 

 

  So Many Languages He Had In store,

  That Only Fame Shall Speak Of Him In more[128].

 

 

 

The Simile, By Which An Old Man, Retaining the Fire Of His Youth, Is

Compared to Aetna Flaming through The Snow, Which Smith Has Used with

Great Pomp, Is Stolen From Cowley, However Little Worth The Labour Of

Conveyance.

 

 

 

He Proceeded to Take His Degree Of Master Of Arts, July 8, 1696. Of

The Exercises Which He Performed on That Occasion, I Have Not Heard

Any Thing memorable.

 

 

 

As His Years Advanced, He Advanced in reputation; For He Continued to

Cultivate His Mind, Though He Did Not Amend His Irregularities, By Which

He Gave So Much Offence, That, April 24, 1700, The Dean And Chapter

Declared "The Place Of Mr. Smith Void, He Having been Convicted of

Riotous Misbehaviour In the House Of Mr. Cole, An Apothecary; But It Was

Referred to The Dean When, And Upon What Occasion, The Sentence Should Be

Put In execution."

 

 

 

Thus Tenderly Was He Treated: The Governours Of His College Could Hardly

Keep Him, And Yet Wished that He Would Not Force Them To Drive Him Away.

 

 

 

Some Time Afterwards He Assumed an Appearance Of Decency: In his Own

Phrase, He _Whitened_ Himself, Having a Desire To Obtain The Censorship,

An Office Of Honour And Some Profit In the College; But, When The

Election Came, The Preference Was Given To Mr. Foulkes, His Junior:

The Same, I Suppose, That Joined with Freind In an Edition Of Part Of

Demosthenes. The Censor Is A Tutor; And It Was Not Thought Proper To

Trust The Superintendence Of Others To A Man Who Took So Little Care Of

Himself.

 

 

 

From This Time Smith Employed his Malice And His Wit Against The Dean,

Dr. Aldrich, Whom He Considered as The Opponent Of His Claim. Of His

Lampoon Upon Him, I Once Heard A Single Line, Too Gross To Be Repeated.

 

 

 

But He Was Still A Genius And A Scholar, And Oxford Was Unwilling to Lose

Him: He Was Endured, With All His Pranks And His Vices, Two Years Longer;

But, On Dec. 20, 1705, At The Instance Of All The Canons, The Sentence,

Declared five Years Before, Was Put In execution.

 

 

 

The Execution Was, I Believe, Silent And Tender; For One Of His Friends,

From Whom I Learned much Of His Life, Appeared not To Know It.

 

 

 

He Was Now Driven To London, Where He Associated himself With The Whigs;

Whether Because They Were In power, Or Because The Tories Had Expelled

Him, Or Because He Was A Whig By Principle, May, Perhaps, Be Doubted. He

Was, However, Caressed by Men Of Great Abilities, Whatever Were Their

Party, And Was Supported by The Liberality Of Those Who Delighted in his

Conversation.

 

 

 

There Was Once A Design, Hinted at By Oldisworth, To Have Made Him

Useful. One Evening, As He Was Sitting with A Friend At A Tavern, He Was

Called down By The Waiter; And, Having staid Some Time Below, Came Up

Thoughtful. After A Pause, Said He To His Friend: "He That Wanted me

Below Was Addison, Whose Business Was To Tell Me That A History Of The

Revolution Was Intended, And To Propose That I Should Undertake It.

I Said, 'What Shall I Do With The Character Of Lord Sunderland?' And

Addison Immediately Returned, 'When, Rag, Were You Drunk Last?' And Went

Away."

 

 

 

Captain _Rag_ Was A Name Which He Got At Oxford, By His Negligence Of

Dress.

 

 

 

This Story I Heard From The Late Mr. Clark, Of Lincoln'S Inn, To Whom It

Was Told By The Friend Of Smith.

 

 

 

Such Scruples Might Debar Him From Some Profitable Employments; But,

As They Could Not Deprive Him Of Any Real Esteem, They Left Him Many

Friends; And No Man Was Ever Better Introduced to The Theatre Than He,

Who, In that Violent Conflict Of Parties, Had A Prologue And Epilogue

From The First Wits On Either Side.

 

 

 

But Learning and Nature Will Now And Then Take Different Courses. His

Play Pleased the Criticks, And The Criticks Only. It Was, As Addison

Has Recorded, Hardly Heard The Third Night. Smith Had, Indeed, Trusted

Entirely To His Merit, Had Ensured no Band Of Applauders, Nor Used any

Artifice To Force Success, And Found That Naked excellence Was Not

Sufficient For Its Own Support.

 

 

 

The Play, However, Was Bought By Lintot, Who Advanced the Price From

Fifty Guineas, The Current Rate, To Sixty; And Halifax, The General

Patron, Accepted the Dedication. Smith'S Indolence Kept Him From Writing

The Dedication, Till Lintot, After Fruitless Importunity, Gave Notice

That He Would Publish The Play Without It. Now, Therefore, It