THE life of Dr. Parnell is a task which I should very willingly decline,
since it has been lately written by Goldsmith, a man of such variety of
powers, and such felicity of performance, that he always seemed to do
best that which he was doing; a man who had the art of being minute
without tediousness, and general without confusion; whose language was
copious without exuberance, exact without constraint, and easy without
weakness.
What such an author has told, who would tell again? I have made an
abstract from his larger narrative; and have this gratification from my
attempt, that it gives me an opportunity of paying due tribute to the
memory of Goldsmith.
Thomas Parnell was the son of a Commonwealthsman of the same name, who,
at the Restoration, left Congleton, in Cheshire, where the family had
been established for several centuries, and, settling in Ireland,
purchased an estate, which, with his lands in Cheshire, descended to the
poet, who was born at Dublin in 1679; and, after the usual education at a
grammar school, was, at the age of thirteen, admitted into the College
where, in 1700, he became Master of Arts; and was the same year ordained
a deacon, though under the canonical age, by a dispensation from the
Bishop of Derry.
About three years afterwards he was made a priest and in 1705 Dr. Ashe,
the Bishop of Clogher, conferred upon him the archdeaconry of Clogher.
About the same time he married Mrs. Anne Minchin, an amiable lady, by
whom he had two sons, who died young, and a daughter, who long survived
him.
At the ejection of the Whigs, in the end of Queen Anne’s reign, Parnell
was persuaded to change his party, not without much censure from those
whom he forsook, and was received by the new Ministry as a valuable
reinforcement. When the Earl of Oxford was told that Dr. Parnell waited
among the crowd in the outer room, he went, by the persuasion of Swift,
with his Treasurer’s staff in his hand, to inquire for him, and to bid
him welcome; and, as may be inferred from Pope’s dedication, admitted him
as a favourite companion to his convivial hours, but, as it seems often
to have happened in those times to the favourites of the great, without
attention to his fortune, which, however, was in no great need of
improvement.
Parnell, who did not want ambition or vanity, was desirous to make
himself conspicuous, and to show how worthy he was of high preferment.
As he thought himself qualified to become a popular preacher, he
displayed his elocution with great success in the pulpits of London; but
the Queen’s death putting an end to his expectations, abated his
diligence; and Pope represents him as falling from that time into
intemperance of wine. That in his latter life he was too much a lover of
the bottle, is not denied; but I have heard it imputed to a cause more
likely to obtain forgiveness from mankind, the untimely death of a
darling son; or, as others tell, the loss of his wife, who died (1712) in
the midst of his expectations.
He was now to derive every future addition to his preferments from his
personal interest with his private friends, and he was not long
unregarded. He was warmly recommended by Swift to Archbishop King, who
gave him a prebend in 1713; and in May, 1716, presented him to the
vicarage of Finglass, in the diocese of Dublin, worth £400 a year. Such
notice from such a man inclines me to believe that the vice of which he
has been accused was not gross or not notorious.
But his prosperity did not last long. His end, whatever was its cause,
was now approaching. He enjoyed his preferment little more than a year;
for in July, 1717, in his thirty-eighth year, he died at Chester on his
way to Ireland.
He seems to have been one of those poets who take delight in writing. He
contributed to the papers of that time, and probably published more than
he owned. He left many compositions behind him, of which Pope selected
those which he thought best, and dedicated them to the Earl of Oxford.
Of these Goldsmith has given an opinion, and his criticism it is seldom
safe to contradict. He bestows just praise upon “The Rise of Woman,”
“The Fairy Tale,” and “The Pervigilium Veneris;” but has very properly
remarked that in “The Battle of Mice and Frogs” the Greek names have not
in English their original effect. He tells us that “The Bookworm” is
borrowed from Beza; but he should have added with modern applications:
and when he discovers that “Gay Bacchus” is translated from Augurellus,
he ought to have remarked that the latter part is purely Parnell’s.
Another poem, “When Spring Comes On,” is, he says, taken from the French.
I would add that the description of “Barrenness,” in his verses to Pope,
was borrowed from Secundus; but lately searching for the passage which I
had formerly read, I could not find it. “The Night Piece on Death” is
indirectly preferred by Goldsmith to Gray’s “Churchyard;” but, in my
opinion, Gray has the advantage in dignity, variety, and originality of
sentiment. He observes that the story of “The Hermit” is in More’s
“Dialogues” and Howell’s “Letters,” and supposes it to have been
originally Arabian.
Goldsmith has not taken any notice of “The Elegy to the Old Beauty,”
which is perhaps the meanest; nor of “The Allegory on Man,” the happiest
of Parnell’s performances. The hint of “The Hymn to Contentment” I
suspect to have been borrowed from Cleveland.
The general character of Parnell is not great extent of comprehension or
fertility of mind. Of the little that appears, still less is his own.
His praise must be derived from the easy sweetness of his diction: in his
verses there is more happiness than pains; he is sprightly without
effort, and always delights, though he never ravishes; everything is
proper, yet everything seems casual. If there is some appearance of
elaboration in “The Hermit,” the narrative, as it is less airy, is less
pleasing. Of his other compositions it is impossible to say whether they
are the productions of nature, so excellent as not to want the help of
art, or of art so refined as to resemble nature.
This criticism relates only to the pieces published by Pope. Of the
large appendages which I find in the last edition, I can only say that I
know not whence they came, nor have ever inquired whither they are going.
They stand upon the faith of the compilers.