Books: Lives of the Poets: Gay, Thomson, Young etc.

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It was now expected that the apothecaries would have undertaken the
care of providing medicines; but they took another course. Thinking
the whole design pernicious to their interest, they endeavoured to
raise a faction against it in the College, and found some physicians
mean enough to solicit their patronage by betraying to them the
counsels of the College. The greater part, however, enforced by a
new edict, in 1694, the former order of 1687, and sent it to the
Mayor and Aldermen, who appointed a committee to treat with the
College and settle the mode of administering the charity.

It was desired by the aldermen that the testimonials of
churchwardens and overseers should be admitted; and that all hired
servants, and all apprentices to handicraftsmen, should be
considered as POOR. This likewise was granted by the College.

It was then considered who should distribute the medicines, and who
should settle their prices. The physicians procured some
apothecaries to undertake the dispensation, and offered that the
warden and company of the apothecaries should adjust the price.
This offer was rejected; and the apothecaries who had engaged to
assist the charity were considered as traitors to the company,
threatened with the imposition of troublesome offices, and deterred
from the performance of their engagements. The apothecaries
ventured upon public opposition, and presented a kind of
remonstrance against the design to the committee of the City, which
the physicians condescended to confute: and at last the traders
seem to have prevailed among the sons of trade; for the proposal of
the College having been considered, a paper of approbation was drawn
up, but postponed and forgotten.

The physicians still persisted; and in 1696 a subscription was
raised by themselves according to an agreement prefixed to "The
Dispensary." The poor were, for a time, supplied with medicines;
for how long a time I know not. The medicinal charity, like others,
began with ardour, but soon remitted, and at last died gradually
away.

About the time of the subscription begins the action of "The
Dispensary." The poem, as its subject was present and popular, co-
operated with passions and prejudices then prevalent, and, with such
auxiliaries to its intrinsic merit, was universally and liberally
applauded. It was on the side of charity against the intrigues of
interest; and of regular learning against licentious usurpation of
medical authority, and was therefore naturally favoured by those who
read and can judge of poetry.

In 1697 Garth spoke that which is now called "The Harveian Oration;"
which the authors of "The Biographia" mention with more praise than
the passage quoted in their notes will fully justify. Garth,
speaking of the mischiefs done by quacks, has these expressions:
"Non tamen telis vulnerat ista agyrtarum colluvies, sed theriaca
quadam magis perniciosa, non pyrio, sed pulvere nescio quo exotico
certat, non globulis plumbeis, sed pilulis aeque lethalibus
interficit." This was certainly thought fine by the author, and is
still admired by his biographer. In October, 1702, he became one of
the censors of the College,

Garth, being an active and zealous Whig, was a member of the Kit-Cat
Club, and, by consequence, familiarly known to all the great men of
that denomination. In 1710, when the government fell into other
hands, he writ to Lord Godolphin, on his dismission, a short poem,
which was criticised in the Examiner, and so successfully either
defended or excused by Mr. Addison that, for the sake of the
vindication, it ought to be preserved.

At the accession of the present family his merits were acknowledged
and rewarded. He was knighted with the sword of his hero,
Marlborough; and was made Physician-in-Ordinary to the King, and
Physician-General to the army. He then undertook an edition of
Ovid's "Metamorphoses," translated by several hands; which he
recommended by a preface, written with more ostentation than
ability; his notions are half-formed, and his materials
immethodically confused. This was his last work. He died January
18th, 1717-18, and was buried at Harrow-on-the-Hill.

His personal character seems to have been social and liberal. He
communicated himself through a very wide extent of acquaintance; and
though firm in a party, at a time when firmness included virulence,
yet he imparted his kindness to those who were not supposed to
favour his principles. He was an early encourager of Pope, and was
at once the friend of Addison and of Granville. He is accused of
voluptuousness and irreligion; and Pope, who says that "if ever
there was a good Christian, without knowing himself to be so, it was
Dr. Garth," seems not able to deny what he is angry to hear and loth
to confess.

Pope afterwards declared himself convinced that Garth died in the
communion of the Church of Rome, having been privately reconciled.
It is observed by Lowth that there is less distance than is thought
between scepticism and Popery; and that a mind wearied with
perpetual doubt, willingly seeks repose in the bosom of an
infallible Church.

His poetry has been praised at least equally to its merit. In "The
Dispensary" there is a strain of smooth and free versification; but
few lines are eminently elegant. No passages fall below mediocrity,
and few rise much above it. The plan seems formed without just
proportion to the subject; the means and end have no necessary
connection. Resnel, in his preface to Pope's Essay, remarks that
Garth exhibits no discrimination of characters; and that what any
one says might, with equal propriety, have been said by another.
The general design is, perhaps, open to criticism; but the
composition can seldom be charged with inaccuracy or negligence.
The author never slumbers in self-indulgence; his full vigour is
always exerted; scarcely a line is left unfinished; nor is it easy
to find an expression used by constraint, or a thought imperfectly
expressed. It was remarked by Pope, that "The Dispensary" had been
corrected in every edition, and that every change was an
improvement. It appears, however, to want something of poetical
ardour, and something of general delectation; and therefore, since
it has been no longer supported by accidental and intrinsic
popularity, it has been scarcely able to support itself.

ROWE.

Nicholas Rowe was born at Little Beckford, in Bedfordshire, in 1673.
His family had long possessed a considerable estate, with a good
house, at Lambertoun in Devonshire. The ancestor from whom he
descended in a direct line received the arms borne by his
descendants for his bravery in the Holy War. His father, John Rowe,
who was the first that quitted his paternal acres to practise any
part of profit, professed the law, and published Benlow's and
Dallison's Reports in the reign of James the Second, when, in
opposition to the notions then diligently propagated of dispensing
power, he ventured to remark how low his authors rated the
prerogative. He was made a serjeant, and died April 30, 1692. He
was buried in the Temple church.

Nicholas was first sent to a private school at Highgate; and, being
afterwards removed to Westminster, was at twelve years chosen one of
the King's Scholars. His master was Busby, who suffered none of his
scholars to let their powers lie useless; and his exercises in
several languages are said to have been written with uncommon
degrees of excellence, and yet to have cost him very little labour.
At sixteen he had, in his father's opinion, made advances in
learning sufficient to qualify him for the study of law, and was
entered a student of the Middle Temple, where for some time he read
statutes and reports with proficiency proportionate to the force of
his mind, which was already such that he endeavoured to comprehend
law, not as a series of precedents, or collection of positive
precepts, but as a system of rational government and impartial
justice. When he was nineteen, he was, by the death of his father,
left more to his own direction, and probably from that time suffered
law gradually to give way to poetry. At twenty-five he produced the
Ambitious Step-Mother, which was received with so much favour that
he devoted himself from that time wholly to elegant literature.

His next tragedy (1702) was Tamerlane, in which, under the name of
Tamerlane, he intended to characterise King William, and Louis the
Fourteenth under Bajazet. The virtues of Tamerlane seem to have
been arbitrarily assigned him by his poet, for I know not that
history gives any other qualities than those which make a conqueror.
The fashion, however, of the time was to accumulate upon Louis all
that can raise horror and detestation; and whatever good was
withheld from him, that it might not be thrown away was bestowed
upon King William. This was the tragedy which Rowe valued most, and
that which probably, by the help of political auxiliaries, excited
most applause; but occasional poetry must often content itself with
occasional praise. Tamerlane has for a long time been acted only
once a year, on the night when King William landed. Our quarrel
with Louis has been long over; and it now gratifies neither zeal nor
malice to see him painted with aggravated features, like a Saracen
upon a sign.

The Fair Penitent, his next production (1703), is one of the most
pleasing tragedies on the stage, where it still keeps its turns of
appearing, and probably will long keep them, for there is scarcely
any work of any poet at once so interesting by the fable, and so
delightful by the language. The story is domestic, and therefore
easily received by the imagination, and assimilated to common life;
the diction is exquisitely harmonious, and soft or sprightly as
occasion requires.

The character of Lothario seems to have been expanded by Richardson
into Lovelace; but he has excelled his original in the moral effect
of the fiction. Lothario, with gaiety which cannot be hated, and
bravery which cannot be despised, retains too much of the
spectator's kindness. It was in the power of Richardson alone to
teach us at once esteem and detestation, to make virtuous resentment
overpower all the benevolence which wit, elegance, and courage,
naturally excite; and to lose at last the hero in the villain. The
fifth act is not equal to the former; the events of the drama are
exhausted, and little remains but to talk of what is past. It has
been observed that the title of the play does not sufficiently
correspond with the behaviour of Calista, who at last shows no
evident signs of repentance, but may be reasonably suspected of
feeling pain from detection rather than from guilt, and expresses
more shame than sorrow, and more rage than shame.

His next (1706) was Ulysses; which, with the common fate of
mythological stories, is now generally neglected. We have been too
early acquainted with the poetical heroes to expect any pleasure
from their revival; to show them as they have already been shown, is
to disgust by repetition; to give them new qualities, or new
adventures, is to offend by violating received notions.

"The Royal Convert" (1708) seems to have a better claim to
longevity. The fable is drawn from an obscure and barbarous age, to
which fictions are more easily and properly adapted; for when
objects are imperfectly seen, they easily take forms from
imagination. The scene lies among our ancestors in our own country,
and therefore very easily catches attention. Rodogune is a
personage truly tragical, of high spirit, and violent passions,
great with tempestuous dignity, and wicked with a soul that would
have been heroic if it had been virtuous. The motto seems to tell
that this play was not successful.

Rowe does not always remember what his characters require. In
Tamerlane there is some ridiculous mention of the God of Love; and
Rodogune, a savage Saxon, talks of Venus and the eagle that bears
the thunder of Jupiter.

This play discovers its own date, by a prediction of the Union, in
imitation of Cranmer's prophetic promises to Henry VIII. The
anticipated blessings of union are not very naturally introduced,
nor very happily expressed. He once (1706) tried to change his
hand. He ventured on a comedy, and produced the Biter, with which,
though it was unfavourably treated by the audience, he was himself
delighted; for he is said to have sat in the house laughing with
great vehemence, whenever he had, in his own opinion, produced a
jest. But finding that he and the public had no sympathy of mirth,
he tried at lighter scenes no more.

After the Royal Convert (1714) appeared Jane Shore, written, as its
author professes, IN IMITATION OF SHAKESPEARE'S STYLE. In what he
thought himself an imitator of Shakespeare it is not easy to
conceive. The numbers, the diction, the sentiments, and the
conduct, everything in which imitation can consist, are remote in
the utmost degree from the manner of Shakespeare, whose dramas it
resembles only as it is an English story, and as some of the persons
have their names in history. This play, consisting chiefly of
domestic scenes and private distress, lays hold upon the heart. The
wife is forgiven because she repents, and the husband is honoured
because he forgives. This, therefore, is one of those pieces which
we still welcome on the stage.

His last tragedy (1715) was Lady Jane Grey. This subject had been
chosen by Mr. Smith, whose papers were put into Rowe's hands such as
he describes them in his preface. This play has likewise sunk into
oblivion. From this time he gave nothing more to the stage.

Being by a competent fortune exempted from any necessity of
combating his inclination, he never wrote in distress, and therefore
does not appear to have ever written in haste. His works were
finished to his own approbation, and bear few marks of negligence or
hurry. It is remarkable that his prologues and epilogues are all
his own, though he sometimes supplied others; he afforded help, but
did not solicit it.

As his studies necessarily made him acquainted with Shakespeare, and
acquaintance produced veneration, he undertook (1709) an edition of
his works, from which he neither received much praise, nor seems to
have expected it; yet I believe those who compare it with former
copies will find that he has done more than he promised; and that,
without the pomp of notes or boasts of criticism, many passages are
happily restored. He prefixed a life of the author, such as
tradition, then almost expiring, could supply, and a preface, which
cannot be said to discover much profundity or penetration. He at
least contributed to the popularity of his author. He was willing
enough to improve his fortune by other arts than poetry. He was
under-secretary for three years when the Duke of Queensberry was
Secretary of State, and afterwards applied to the Earl of Oxford for
some public employment. Oxford enjoined him to study Spanish; and
when, some time afterwards, he came again, and said that he had
mastered it, dismissed him with this congratulation, "Then, sir, I
envy you the pleasure of reading 'Don Quixote' in the original."

This story is sufficiently attested; but why Oxford, who desired to
be thought a favourer of literature, should thus insult a man of
acknowledged merit, or how Rowe, who was so keen a Whig that he did
not willingly converse with men of the opposite party, could ask
preferment from Oxford, it is not now possible to discover. Pope,
who told the story, did not say on what occasion the advice was
given; and, though he owned Rowe's disappointment, doubted whether
any injury was intended him, but thought it rather Lord Oxford's ODD
WAY.

It is likely that he lived on discontented through the rest of Queen
Anne's reign; but the time came at last when he found kinder
friends. At the accession of King George he was made Poet-Laureate-
-I am afraid, by the ejection of poor Nahum Tate, who (1716) died in
the Mint, where he was forced to seek shelter by extreme poverty.
He was made likewise one of the land-surveyors of the customs of the
Port of London. The Prince of Wales chose him Clerk of his Council;
and the Lord Chancellor Parker, as soon as he received the seals,
appointed him, unasked, Secretary of the Presentations. Such an
accumulation of employments undoubtedly produced a very considerable
revenue.

Having already translated some parts of Lucan's "Pharsalia," which
had been published in the Miscellanies, and doubtless received many
praises, he undertook a version of the whole work, which he lived to
finish, but not to publish. It seems to have been printed under the
care of Dr. Welwood, who prefixed the author's life, in which is
contained the following character:--

"As to his person, it was graceful and well made; his face regular,
and of a manly beauty. As his soul was well lodged, so its rational
and animal faculties excelled in a high degree. He had a quick and
fruitful invention, a deep penetration, and a large compass of
thought, with singular dexterity and easiness in making his thoughts
to be understood. He was master of most parts of polite learning,
especially the classical authors, both Greek and Latin; understood
the French, Italian, and Spanish languages, and spoke the first
fluently, and the other two tolerably well. He had likewise read
most of the Greek and Roman histories in their original languages,
and most that are wrote in English, French, Italian, and Spanish.
He had a good taste in philosophy; and, having a firm impression of
religion upon his mind, he took great delight in divinity and
ecclesiastical history, in both of which he made great advances in
the times he retired into the country, which was frequent. He
expressed on all occasions his full persuasion of the truth of
revealed religion; and, being a sincere member of the Established
Church himself, he pitied, but condemned not, those that dissented
from it. He abhorred the principles of persecuting men upon the
account of their opinions in religion; and, being strict in his own,
he took it not upon him to censure those of another persuasion. His
conversation was pleasant, witty, and learned, without the least
tincture of affectation or pedantry; and his inimitable manner of
diverting and enlivening the company made it impossible for any one
to be out of humour when he was in it. Envy and detraction seemed
to be entirely foreign to his constitution; and whatever
provocations he met with at any time, he passed them over without
the least thought of resentment or revenge. As Homer had a Zoilus,
so Mr. Rowe had sometimes his; for there were not wanting malevolent
people, and pretenders to poetry too, that would now and then bark
at his best performances; but he was so conscious of his own genius,
and had so much good-nature, as to forgive them, nor could he ever
be tempted to return them an answer.

"The love of learning and poetry made him not the less fit for
business, and nobody applied himself closer to it when it required
his attendance. The late Duke of Queensberry, when he was Secretary
of State, made him his secretary for public affairs; and when that
truly great man came to know him well, he was never so pleased as
when Mr. Rowe was in his company. After the duke's death, all
avenues were stopped to his preferment; and during the rest of that
reign he passed his time with the Muses and his books, and sometimes
the conversation of his friends. When he had just got to be easy in
his fortune, and was in a fair way to make it better, death swept
him away, and in him deprived the world of one of the best men, as
well as one of the best geniuses, of the age. He died like a
Christian and a philosopher, in charity with all mankind, and with
an absolute resignation to the will of God. He kept up his good-
humour to the last; and took leave of his wife and friends,
immediately before his last agony, with the same tranquillity of
mind, and the same indifference for life, as though he had been upon
taking but a short journey. He was twice married--first to a
daughter of Mr. Parsons, one of the auditors of the revenue; and
afterwards to a daughter of Mr. Devenish, of a good family in
Dorsetshire. By the first he had a son; and by the second a
daughter, married afterwards to Mr. Fane. He died 6th December,
1718, in the forty-fifth year of his age, and was buried on the 19th
of the same month in Westminster Abbey, in the aisle where many of
our English poets are interred, over against Chaucer, his body being
attended by a select number of his friends, and the dean and choir
officiating at the funeral."

To this character, which is apparently given with the fondness of a
friend, may be added the testimony of Pope, who says, in a letter to
Blount, "Mr. Rowe accompanied me, and passed a week in the Forest.
I need not tell you how much a man of his turn entertained me; but I
must acquaint you, there is a vivacity and gaiety of disposition,
almost peculiar to him, which make it impossible to part from him
without that uneasiness which generally succeeds all our pleasure."

Pope has left behind him another mention of his companion less
advantageous, which is thus reported by Dr. Warburton:--

"Rowe, in Mr. Pope's opinion, maintained a decent character, but had
no heart. Mr. Addison was justly offended with some behaviour which
arose from that want, and estranged himself from him, which Rowe
felt very severely. Mr. Pope, their common friend, knowing this,
took an opportunity, at some juncture of Mr. Addison's advancement,
to tell him how poor Rowe was grieved at his displeasure, and what
satisfaction he expressed at Mr. Addison's good fortune, which he
expressed so naturally that he (Mr. Pope) could not but think him
sincere. Mr. Addison replied, 'I do not suspect that he feigned;
but the levity of his heart is such, that he is struck with any new
adventure, and it would affect him just in the same manner if he
heard I was going to be hanged.' Mr. Pope said he could not deny
but Mr. Addison understood Rowe well."

This censure time has not left us the power of confirming or
refuting; but observation daily shows that much stress is not to be
laid on hyperbolical accusations and pointed sentences, which even
he that utters them desires to be applauded rather than credited.
Addison can hardly be supposed to have meant all that he said. Few
characters can bear the microscopic scrutiny of wit quickened by
anger; and, perhaps, the best advice to authors would be, that they
should keep out of the way of one another.

Rowe is chiefly to be considered as a tragic writer and a
translator. In his attempt at comedy he failed so ignominiously
that his Biter is not inserted in his works: and his occasional
poems and short compositions are rarely worthy either praise or
censure, for they seem the casual sports of a mind seeking rather to
amuse its leisure than to exercise its powers. In the construction
of his dramas there is not much art; he is not a nice observer of
the unities. He extends time and varies places as his convenience
requires. To vary the place is not, in my opinion, any violation of
nature, if the change be made between the acts, for it is no less
easy for the spectator to suppose himself at Athens in the second
act, than at Thebes in the first; but to change the scene, as is
done by Rowe, in the middle of an act, is to add more acts to the
play, since an act is so much of the business as is transacted
without interruption. Rowe, by this licence, easily extricates
himself from difficulties; as in Jane Grey, when we have been
terrified with all the dreadful pomp of public execution; and are
wondering how the heroine or the poet will proceed, no sooner has
Jane pronounced some prophetic rhymes than--pass and be gone--the
scene closes, and Pembroke and Gardiner are turned out upon the
stage.

I know not that there can be found in his plays any deep search into
nature, any accurate discriminations of kindred qualities, or nice
display of passion in its progress; all is general and undefined.
Nor does he much interest or affect the auditor, except in Jane
Shore, who is always seen and heard with pity. Alicia is a
character of empty noise, with no resemblance to real sorrow or to
natural madness.

Whence, then, has Rowe his reputation? From the reasonableness and
propriety of some of his scenes, from the elegance of his diction,
and the suavity of his verse. He seldom moves either pity or
terror, but he often elevates the sentiments; he seldom pierces the
breast, but he always delights the ear, and often improves the
understanding. His translation of the "Golden Verses," and of the
first book of Quillet's poem, have nothing in them remarkable. The
"Golden Verses" are tedious.

The version of Lucan is one of the greatest productions of English
poetry, for there is perhaps none that so completely exhibits the
genius and spirit of the original. Lucan is distinguished by a kind
of dictatorial or philosophic dignity, rather, as Quintilian
observes, declamatory than poetical; full of ambitious morality and
pointed sentences, comprised in vigorous and animated lines. This
character Rowe has very diligently and successfully preserved. His
versification, which is such as his contemporaries practised,
without any attempt at innovation or improvement, seldom wants
either melody or force. His author's sense is sometimes a little
diluted by additional infusions, and sometimes weakened by too much
expansion. But such faults are to be expected in all translations,
from the constraint of measures and dissimilitude of languages. The
"Pharsalia" of Rowe deserves more notice than it obtains, and as it
is more read will be more esteemed.

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