The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) Volume III Part 13

This gentleman is author of eleven plays, which gives him a kind of right to be named in this collection. Some have been of opinion, he was a poet of a low rate, others that he was only a wit collector; be this as it may, he acquired, some distinction by the vigorous opposition he made to Dryden: And having chosen so powerful an antagonist, he has acquired more honour by it, than by all his other works put together; he accuses Dryden of plagiary, and treats him severely.

Mr. Dryden, indeed, had first attacked his Mamamouchi; which provoked Ravenscroft to retort so harshly upon him; but in the opinion of Mr.

Langbain, the charge of plagiarism as properly belonged to Ravenfcroft himself as to Dryden; tho' there was this essential difference between the plagiary of one and that of the other; that Dryden turned whatever he borrowed into gold, and Ravenscroft made use of other people's materials, without placing them in a new light, or giving them any graces, they had not before.

Ravenscroft thus proceeds against Mr. Dryden: 'That I may maintain the character of impartial, to which I pretend, I must pull off his disguise, and discover the politic plagiary that lurks under it. I know he has endeavoured to shew himself matter of the art of swift writing, and would persuade the world that what he writes is extempore wit, currente calamo. But I doubt not to shew that tho' he would be thought to imitate the silk worm that spins its webb from its own bowels, yet I shall make him appear like the leech that lives upon the blood of men, drawn from the gums, and when he is rubbed with salt, spues it up again.

To prove this, I shall only give an account of his plays, and by that little of my own knowledge, that I shall discover, it will be manifest, that this rickety poet, (tho' of so many years) cannot go without others a.s.sistance; for take this prophecy from your humble servant, or Mr.

Ravenscroft's Mamamouchi, which you please,

'When once our poet's translating vein is past, From him, you can't expect new plays in haste.

Thus far Mr. Ravenscroft has censured Dryden; and Langbain, in order to prove him guilty of the same poetical depredation, has been industrious to trace the plots of his plays, and the similarity of his characters with those of other dramatic poets; but as we should reckon it tedious to follow him in this manner, we shall only in general take notice of those novels from which he has drawn his plots.

We cannot ascertain the year in which this man died; he had been bred a templer, which he forsook as a dry unentertaining study, and much beneath the genius of a poet.

His dramatic works are,

1. The Careless Lovers, a Comedy, acted at the duke's theatre, 4to.

1673. The scene Covent-Garden, part of this play is borrowed from Moliere's Monsieur de Pourceaugnac.

2. Mamamouchi; or the Citizen turned Gentleman, a Comedy, acted at the duke's theatre, 4to. 1675, dedicated to his Highness prince Rupert. Part of this play is taken from Moliere's le Bourgeois Gentilliome. Scene London.

3. Scaramouch a Philosopher, Harlequin a schoolboy, Bravo Merchant and Magician; a Comedy, after the Italian manner, acted at the theatre-royal 1677. The poet in his preface to this play boasts his having brought a new sort of Comedy on our stage; but his critics will not allow any one scene of it to be the genuine offspring of his own brain, and denominate him rather the midwife than the parent of this piece; part of it is taken from le Burgeois Gentilhome, & la Marriage Force.

4. The Wrangling Lovers; or the Invisible Mistress, a Comedy, acted at the duke's theatre, 4to. 1677. This play is founded upon Corneille's Les Engagements du Hazard, and a Spanish Romance, called, Deceptio visus; or seeing and believing are two things.

5. King Edgar, and Alfreda, a Tragedy, acted at the theatre-royal 1677.

The story is taken from the Annals of Love, a novel, and Malmesbury, Grafton, Stow, Speed, and other English chronicles.

6. The English Lawyer, a Comedy; acted at the theatre-royal 1678; this is only a translation of the celebrated latin comedy of Ignoramus, written by Mr. Ruggle of Clare-hall, Cambridge. Scene Bourdeaux.

7. The London Cuckolds, a Comedy; acted at the duke of York's theatre.

This play is collected from the novels of various authors, and is esteemed one of the most diverting, though perhaps the most offensive play of the author's; it was first acted 1682. This play has. .h.i.therto kept possession of the flags, a circ.u.mstance owing to the annual celebration of the lord mayor's inauguration: Though it seems to be growing into a just disesteem. It was deprived of its annual appearance at Drury-Lane Theatre, in the year 1752, by Mr. Garrick; whose good sense would not suffer him to continue so unwarrantable and ridiculous an insult, upon so respectable a body of men as the magistrates of the city of London.

The citizens are exposed to the highest ridicule in it; and the scenes are loose and indecent. The reason why the comic poets have so often declared themselves open enemies to the citizens, was plainly this: The city magistrates had always opposed the court, on which the poets had their dependance, and therefore took this method of revenge.

8. Dame Dobson, or the Cunning Woman, a Comedy; acted and d.a.m.n'd at the duke's theatre, printed in quarto, 1684. This is a translation of a French comedy.

9. The Canterbury Guests, or a Bargain Broken, a Comedy; acted at the theatre-royal, in 1695.

10. The Anatomist, or the Sham Doctor, a Comedy; acted at the theatre-royal in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 1697.

11. The Italian Husband, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields 1698. To this play, besides the prologue, is prefixed a dialogue, which the author calls the prelude, managed by the poet, a critic, and one Mr. Peregrine the poet's friend. The author here seems to be under the same mistake with other modern writers, who are fond of barbarous and b.l.o.o.d.y stories. The Epilogue is written by Jo.

Haynes.

JOHN PHILIPS,

A poet of very considerable eminence, was son of Dr. Stephen Philips, arch-deacon of Salop, and born at Brampton in Oxfords.h.i.+re, December 30, 1676. After he had received a grammatical education at home, he was sent to Winchester school, where he made himself master of the Latin and Greek languages, and was soon distinguished for an happy imitation of the excellences which he discovered in the best cla.s.sical authors. With this foundation he was removed to Christ's Church in Oxford, where he performed all his university exercises with applause, and besides other valuable authors in the poetical way, he became particularly acquainted with, and studied the works of Milton. The ingenious Mr. George Sewel, in his life and character of our author, observes, 'that there was not an allusion in Paradise Lost, drawn from the thoughts and expressions of Homer or Virgil, which Mr. Philips could not immediately refer to, and by that he perceived what a peculiar life and grace their sentiments added to English poetry; how much their images raised its spirit, and what weight and beauty their words, when translated, gave to its language: nor was he less curious in observing the force and elegance of his mother tongue; but by the example of his darling Milton, searched backwards into the works of our old English poets, to furnish him with proper sounding, and significant expressions, and prove the due extent, and compa.s.s of the language. For this purpose he carefully read over Chaucer and Spencer, and afterwards, in his writings, did not scruple to revive any words or phrases which he thought deserved it, with that modesty, and liberty which Horace allows of, either in the coining of new, or the restoring of ancient expressions.' Our author, however, was not so much enamoured of poetry, as to neglect other parts of literature, but was very well acquainted with the whole compa.s.s of natural philosophy. He seems in his studies, as well as his writings, to have made Virgil his pattern, and often to have broken out with him in the following rapturous wish, in the Second Book of the Georgies which, for the sake of the English reader, we shall give in Mr. Dryden's translation.

'Give me the ways of wand'ring stars to know, The depths of heav'n above, or earth below; Teach me the various labours of the moon, And whence proceed the eclipses of the sun.

Why slowing tides prevail upon the main, And in what dark recess they shrink again.

What shakes the solid earth, what cause delays The summer-nights, and the short winter days.'

Mr. Philips was a pa.s.sionate admirer of nature, and it is not improbable but he drew his own character in that description which he gives of a philosophical and retired life, at the latter end of the first Book of his Cyder.

--He to his labour hies, Gladsome intent on somewhat that may ease Unearthly mortals and with curious search Examine all the properties of herbs, Fossils, and minerals, that th' embowell'd earth Displays, if by his industry he can Benefit human race.

Though the reader will easily discover the unpoetical flatness of the above lines, yet they shew a great thirst after natural knowledge, and we have reason to believe, that much might have been attained, and many new discoveries made, by so diligent an enquirer, and so faithful a recorder of physical operations. However, though death prevented the hopes of the world in that respect, yet the pa.s.sages of that kind, which we find in his Poem on Cyder, may convince us of the niceness of his observations in natural causes. Besides this, he was particularly skilled in antiquities, especially those of his own country; and part of this study too, he has with much art and beauty intermixed with his poetry.

While Mr. Philips continued at the university, he was honoured with the acquaintance of the best and politest men in it, and had a particular intimacy with Mr. Edmund Smith, author of Phaedra and Hippolitus. The first poem which got him reputation, was his Splendid s.h.i.+lling, which the author of the Tatler has stiled the best burlesque poem in the English Language; nor was it only, says Mr. Sewel, 'the finest of that kind in our tongue, but handled in a manner quite different from what had been made use of by any author of our own, or other nation, the sentiments, and stile being in this both new; whereas in those, the jest lies more in allusions to the thoughts and fables of the ancients, than in the pomp of expression. The same humour is continued thro' the whole, and not unnaturally diversified, as most poems of that nature had been before.

Out of that variety of circ.u.mstances, which his fruitful invention must suggest to him, on such a subject, he has not chosen any but what are diverting to every reader, and some, that none but his inimitable dress could have made diverting to any: when we read it, we are betrayed into a pleasure which we could not expect, tho' at the same time the sublimity of the stile, and the gravity of the phrase, seem to chastise that laughter which they provoke.' Mr. Edmund Smith in his beautiful verses on our Author's Death, speaks thus concerning this poem;

'In her best light the comic muse appears, When she with borrowed pride the buskin wears.'

This account given by Mr. Sewel of the Splendid s.h.i.+lling, is perhaps heightened by personal friends.h.i.+p, and that admiration which we naturally pay to the productions of one we love. The stile seems to be unnatural for a poem which is intended to raise laughter; for that laboured gravity has rather a contrary influence; disposing the mind to be serious: and the disappointment is not small, when a man finds he has been betrayed into solemn thinking, in reading the description of a trifle; if the gravity of the phrase chastises the laughter, the purpose of the poem is defeated, and it is a rule in writing to suit the language to the subject. Philips's Splendid s.h.i.+lling may have pleased, because, its manner was new, and we often find people of the best sense throw away their admiration on monsters, which are seldom to be seen, and neglect more regular beauty, and juster proportion.

It is with reserve we offer this criticism against the authority of Dr.

Sewel, and the Tatler; but we have resolved to be impartial, and the reader who is convinced of the propriety and beauty of the Splendid s.h.i.+lling, has, no doubt, as good a right to reject our criticism, as we had to make it.

Our author's coming to London, we are informed, was owing to the persuasion of some great persons, who engaged him to write on the Battle of Blenheim; his poem upon which introduced him to the earl of Oxford, and Henry St. John, esq; afterwards lord viscount Bolingbroke, and other n.o.ble patrons. His swelling stile, it must be owned, was better suited to a subject of this gravity and importance, than to that of a light and ludicrous nature: the exordium of this piece is poetical, and has an allusion to that of Spencer's Fairy Queen:

From low and abject themes the grov'ling muse Now mounts aerial to sing of arms Triumphant, and emblaze the martial acts Of Britain's hero.

The next poem of our author was his Cyder, the plan of which he laid at Oxford, and afterwards compleated it in London. He was determined to make choice of this subject, from the violent pa.s.sion he had for the productions of nature, and to do honour to his native country. The poem was founded upon the model of Virgil's Georgics, and approaches pretty near it, which, in the opinion of critics in general, and Mr. Dryden in particular, even excels the Divine aeneid: He imitates Virgil rather like a pursuer, than a follower, not servilely tracing, but emulating his beauties; his conduct and management are superior to all other copiers of that original; and even the admired Rapin (says Dr. Sewel) is much below him, both in design and success, 'for the Frenchman either fills his garden with the idle fables of antiquity, or new transformations of his own; and, in contradiction of the rules of criticism, has injudiciously blended the serious, and sublime stile of Virgil, with the elegant turns of Ovid in his Metamorphosis; nor has the great genius of Cowley succeeded better in his Books of Plants, who, besides the same faults with the former, is continually varying his numbers from one sort of verse to another, and alluding to remote hints of medicinal writers, which, though allowed to be useful, are yet so numerous, that they flatten the dignity of verse, and sink it from a poem, to a treatise of physic,' Dr. Sewel has informed us, that Mr. Philips intended to have written a poem on the Resurrection, and the Day of Judgment, and we may reasonably presume, that in such a work, he would have exceeded his other performances. This awful subject is proper to be treated in a solemn stile, and dignified with the n.o.blest images; and we need not doubt from his just notions of religion, and the genuine spirit of poetry, which were conspicuous in him, he would have carried his readers through these tremendous scenes, with an exalted reverence, which, however, might not partic.i.p.ate of enthusiasm. The meanest soul, and the lowest imagination cannot contemplate these alarming events described in Holy Writ, without the deepest impressions: what then might we not expect from the heart of a good man, and the regulated flights and raptures of a christian poet? Our author's friend Mr. Smith, who had probably seen the first rudiments of his design, speaks thus of it, in a poem upon his death.

O! had relenting Heaven prolong'd his days, The tow'ring bard had sung in n.o.bler lays: How the last trumpet wakes the lazy dead; How saints aloft the cross triumphant spread; How opening Heav'ns their happier regions, shew, And yawning gulphs with flaming vengeance glow, And saints rejoice above, and sinners howl below.

Well might he sing the day he could not fear, And paint the glories he was sure to wear.

All that we have left more of this poet, is a Latin Ode to Henry St.

John, esq; which is esteemed a master-piece; the stile being pure and elegant, the subject of a mixt nature, resembling the Jublime spirit, and gay facetious humour of Horace. He was beloved, says Dr. Sewel, 'by all who knew him; somewhat reserved and silent amongst strangers, but free, familiar, and easy with his friends; he was averse to disputes, and thought no time so ill spent, and no wit so ill used, as that which was employed in such debates; his whole life was distinguished by a natural goodness, and well-grounded and unaffected piety, an universal charity, and a steady adherence to his principles; no one observed the natural and civil duties of life with a stricter regard, whether a son, a friend, or a member of society, and he had the happiness to fill every one of these parts, without even the suspicion either of undutifulness, insincerity, or disrespect. Thus he continued to the last, not owing his virtues to the happiness of his const.i.tution, but the frame of his mind, insomuch, that during a long sickness, which is apt to ruffle the smoothest temper; he never betrayed any discontent or uneasiness, the integrity of his life still preserving the chearfulness of his spirits; and if his friends had measured their hopes of his life, only by his unconcern in his sickness, they could not but conclude, that either his date would be much longer, or that he was at all times prepared for death.' He had long been troubled with a lingering consumption, attended with an asthma; and the summer before he died, by the advice of his physicians, he removed to Batly, where he got only some present ease, but went from thence with but small hopes of recovery; and upon the return of the distemper, he died at Hereford the 15th of February, 1708. He was interred in the Cathedral church of that city, with an inscription upon his grave-stone, and had a monument erected to his memory in Westminster-abbey by Sir Simon Harcourt, afterwards lord chancellor; the epitaph of which was written by Dr. Friend.

WILLIAM WALSH, Esq;

This poet was the son of Joseph Walsh, of Aberley in Worcesters.h.i.+re. He became a gentleman-commoner of Wadham-College Oxford, in Easter-Term, 1678, when he was only fifteen years of age; he left it without a degree, retired to his native county, and some time after went to London. He wrote a Dialogue concerning Women, being a Defence of the Fair-s.e.x, addressed to Eugenia, and printed in the year 1691. This is the most considerable of our author's productions, and it will be somewhat necessary to take further notice of it, which we cannot more effectually do, than by transcribing the words of Dryden in its commendation.--That great critic thus characterises it. 'The perusal of this dialogue, in defence of the Fair-s.e.x, written by a gentleman of my acquaintance, much surprised me: For it was not easy for me to imagine, that one so young could have treated so nice a subject with so much judgment. It is true, I was not ignorant that he was naturally ingenious, and that he had improved himself by travelling; and from thence I might reasonably have expected, that air of gallantry which is so visibly diffused through the body of the work, and is, indeed, the soul that animates all things of this nature; but so much variety of reading, both in ancient and modern authors, such digestion of that reading, so much justness of thought, that it leaves no room for affectation or pedantry; I may venture to say, are not over common amongst practised writers, and very rarely to be found amongst beginners. It puts me in mind of what was said of Mr. Waller, the father of our English numbers, upon the sight of his first verses, by the wits of the last age; that he came out into the world forty-thousand strong, before they had heard of him. Here in imitation of my friend's apostrophes, I hope the reader need not be told, that Mr. Waller is only mentioned for honour's sake, that I am desirous of laying hold on his memory on all occasions, and thereby acknowledging to the world, that unless he had written, none of us all could write. My friend, had not it seems confidence enough to send this piece out into the world, without my opinion of it, that it might pa.s.s securely, at least among the fair readers, for whose service it was princ.i.p.ally designed. I am not so presuming, as to think my opinion can either be his touch-stone, or his pa.s.sport; but, I thought I might send him back to Ariosto, who has made it the business of almost thirty stanza's, in the beginning of the thirty-seventh book of his Orlando Furioso; not only to praise that beautiful part of the creation, but also to make a sharp satire on their enemies; to give mankind their own, and to tell them plainly, that from their envy it proceeds, that the virtue and great actions of women are purposely concealed, and the failings of some few amongst them exposed, with all the aggravating circ.u.mstances of malice. For my own part, who have always been their servant, and have never drawn my pen against them, I had rather see some of them praised extraordinarily, than any of them suffer by detraction, and that at this age, and at this time particularly, wherein I find more heroines, than heroes; let me therefore give them joy of their new champion: If any will think me more partial to him, than I really am, they can only say, I have returned his bribe; and he word I wish him is, that he may receive justice from the men, and favour only from the ladies.'

This is the opinion of Mr. Dryden in favour of this piece, which is sufficient to establish its reputation. Mr. Wood, the antiquarian, observes, that this Eugenia was the mistress of Walsh; but for this he produces no proof, neither is it in the lead material whether the circ.u.mstance is true or no. Mr. Walslh is likewise author of several occasional poems, printed 1749, amongst the works of the Minor Poets, and which he first published in the year 1692, with some letters amorous, and gallant, to which is prefixed the following address to the public.

Go, little book, and to the world impart The faithful image of an amorous heart; Those who love's dear deluding pains have known, May in my fatal sorrows read their own: Those who have lived from all its torments free, May find the things they never, felt by me.

Perhaps advis'd avoid the gilded bait, And warn'd by my example shun my fate.

Whilst with calm joy, safe landed on the coast I view the waves, on which I once was tost.

Love is a medley of endearments, jars, Suspicions, quarrels, reconcilements, wars; Then peace again. O would it not be best, To chase the fatal poison from our breast?

But since, so few can live from pa.s.sion free, Happy the man, and only happy he, Who with such lucky stars begins his love, That his cool judgment does his choice approve.