"Another failing observable in the character of Hayley, was the little

attention he paid to public opinion, in regard to his modes and habits

of life. During his long residence in his paternal seat of Eartham,

though he occasionally received friends from a distance, and especially

the votaries of literature and the fine arts, yet to the families in his

vicinity he was not easily accessible. He seems, indeed, to have been

almost an insulated mortal among them; and one who, discharging himself

from the obligation of what is commonly called _etiquette_, made it

impossible to maintain with him the reciprocities of intercourse. It is

true, indeed, that the attention of the possessor of Eartham was

considerably engrossed by meditation and study; but this increased

rather than lessened his adaptation to society, and made the effect of

his seclusion the more to be lamented." Hayley's Memoirs, vol. ii. p.

220.

As Hayley was too much extolled at the beginning of his poetical course,

so was he undeservedly neglected or ridiculed at the close of it. The

excessive admiration he at first met with, joined to that flattering

self-opinion which a solitary life is apt to engender, made him too

easily satisfied with what he had done. Perhaps he wrote worse after his

acquaintance with Cowper; for, aiming at a simplicity which he had not

power to support, he became flat and insipid. He had at no time much

force of conception or language. Yet if he never elevates he frequently

amuses his reader. His chief attraction consists in setting off some

plain and natural thought or observation, by a sparkling and ingenious

similitude, such as we commonly find in the Persian poets. To this may

be added a certain sweetness of numbers peculiar to himself, without the

spirit and edge of Pope, or the boldness of Dryden, and fashioned as I

think to his own recitation, which though musical, was somewhat too

pompous and monotonous. He was desirous that all his rhymes should be

exact; but they are sometimes so only according to his own manner of

pronouncing them. He holds about the same rank among our poets that

Bertaut does among the French; but differs from him in this; that,

whereas Bertaut was the earliest of a race analogous to the school of

Dryden and Pope, so Hayley was the latest of the correspondent class

amongst ourselves.

In one respect he is deserving of most honourable notice. During the

course of a long literary life, I doubt whether he was ever provoked to

use a single word of asperity or sarcasm towards any of his

contemporaries. This was praise which alone ought to have exempted him

from the harsh and unmerited censure of Porson, by whom he was called

Criticorum et Poetarum pessimus. He sometimes on the other hand,

indulged himself too much in a lavish and indiscriminate commendation of

contemporary writers. But from whatever might appear like flattery of

the great, he scrupulously abstained. When the Princess Charlotte

visited him at Felpham, he would not present some verses he had written

on her, lest he should be thought capable of that meanness.

His Essays on Painting, History, and Poetry, contain much information

that may be useful to young artists and students. That on Sculpture is

very inferior to the rest; as the Triumph of Music is to the Triumphs of

Temper. The last of these is a poem that still continues to interest a

class of readers, whose studies are intimately connected with the

happiness and well being of society. The design of it, which is to shew

the advantages of self-control to the mind of a well-educated girl, is

much to be commended. The machinery though it required no great effort

in the production, yet suffices to give some relief to the story. It has

been remarked that the trials of the Heroine are too insignificant. But

of one of them, at least, the calumny in the newspaper, this cannot

properly be said. Nor would the purpose of the writer have been so well

answered, if he had been more serious, and had uttered his oracles from

behind a graver mask.

The taste which has been lately excited amongst us for Spanish and

Italian literature, after having slept nearly since the age of

Elizabeth, may be attributed in a great measure to the influence of his

example. Gray, Hurd, and the two Wartons, had done something towards

awakening it, but the spell was completed by him. The decisive impulse

was given by the copious extracts from the great poets in those

languages, which he inserted in the notes to his Essay on Epic Poetry,

and which he accompanied by spirited translations. Lord Holland, the

best informed and most elegant of our writers on the subject of the

Spanish theatre, declared that he had been induced to learn that

language by what Hayley had written concerning the poet Ercilla.

I have heard his Greek scholarship questioned in consequence of an error

which, in his Epistles on History, he has made in the quantity of the

word Olorus, the name of the father of Thucydides; but from a casual

mistake of this sort, no decisive inference can be drawn.

There is little knowledge of human life and character to be gained from

his writings. He had seen mankind chiefly through the medium of books,

and those such as did not represent them very faithfully to him, that

is, in ordinary plays and novels. Indeed he appeared to consider the

real affairs of life in which he was concerned much in the light of a

romance, and himself and his friends as so many personages acting in it,

all meeting with marvellous adventures at every turn, and all endowed

with admirable qualities, to which their petty frailties served only as

foils. It is impossible in reading his memoirs to avoid smiling at the

importance he attaches to very ordinary occurrences. I am not sure

whether it was not this propensity that led him to magnify his own

distresses in living with his first wife. That lady I well recollect to

have been lively and elegant in her manners, and much addicted to

literary pursuits, of which she gave a proof in translating Madame de

Lambert's Essay on Friendship. Her excessive zeal for her husband's

reputation as an author, he has bantered with some humour in the play of

the Mausoleum, where Mrs. Rumble, the wife of a poet is introduced:

Who crows o'er her husband's poetical eggs.

The character of Rumble in the same play appeared so evidently designed

for Johnson, though the author disclaimed that intention, that Boswell,

when he read it on its first coming out, at Anna Seward's, exclaimed,

"It is we. It is we." Trope, who

Talks in a high strutting style of the stars,

Of the eagle of Jove, and the chariot of Mars,

was meant for Mason; and by Facil,

Whose verse is the thread of tenuity,

A fellow distinguish'd by flippant fatuity,

Who nonsense and rhyme can incessantly mingle,

A poet--if poetry's only a jingle,

he intended to represent himself.

The name of Facil was but too appropriate. The slender thread of his

verse was hastily and slightly spun.

His comedies are adapted to the entertainment of those readers only who

have formed their taste on the French drama. His tragedies are some of

the most endurable we have in what a lively modern critic[4] has termed

the rhetorical style. Yet he had some skill in moving compassion.

His diction, both in poetry and prose, is vitiated by the frequent

recurrence of certain hyperbolical expressions, which he applies on

almost all occasions.

He was particularly fond of composing epitaphs, of which, as I remember,

he shewed me a manuscript book full. One of these on Henry Hammond, the

parish clerk at Eartham, is among the best in the language. It is

inserted in the Memoirs which Hayley wrote of his son.

An active spirit in a little frame,

This honest man the path of duty trod;

Toil'd while he could, and, when death's darkness came,

Sought in calm hope his recompense from God.

His sons, who loved him, to his merit just,

Raised this plain stone to guard their parent's dust.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Nichols's Illustrations of Literature, vol. iv. p. 742.

[2] In a similar sketch from the pen of the Rev. Samuel Greatheed,

referring to an earlier period, it is stated that "he usually rose

and took a dish of coffee at four A.M.," and that "while dressing, he

most frequently composed a few stanzas of a devotional turn." This

practice of early rising he continued many years after the Editor

became acquainted with him, walking in his garden, even in winter,

and when the ground was covered with snow, with a lantern in his

hand, some hours before daylight; and repeatedly throwing up the

sash of his friend's sleeping room, on the ground floor, to give him

the benefit of the morning air. _Note by Doctor Johnson_.

[3] To the best of his recollection, the Editor never saw him abroad

without an umbrella; which in fine weather he used as a parasol, to

preserve his eyes. He even rode with it on horseback, a very awkward

operation, considering the high-spirited animals that composed his

stud, and the constitutional malady in his hip-joint, which, in

addition to his weight (for he was a remarkably strong-built man),

and his never riding without military spurs, reduced his danger of

falling almost to a certainty, when he opened his umbrella without

due precaution. But he was a stranger to fear in equestrian matters,

and always mounted his horse again, as soon as he could be caught.

The Editor was once riding gently by his side, on the stony beach of

Bognor, when the wind suddenly reversing his umbrella, as he

unfolded it, his horse, with a sudden but desperate plunge, pitched

him on his head in an instant. Providentially he received no hurt,

and some fishermen being at hand, the plunging steed was stopped at

a gate, and being once more subjected to his rider, took him home in

safety. On another occasion, in the same visit of the Editor, he was

tost into the air on the Downs, at the precise moment when an

interesting friend, whom they had just left, being apprehensive of

what would happen, was anxiously viewing him from her window through

a telescope.

These anecdotes may serve to illustrate that _determined_ feature of

his character, which has been already noticed, and which impelled

him, contrary to the advice of his friends, to persevere in a

favourite, though perilous exercise, even at the manifest hazard of

his life. At length, however, they prevailed; and for some years

before he died, he gave up riding on horseback altogether. _Note by

Dr. Johnson_.

[4] My friend Mr. Darley, _MS. addition_.--ED.

* * * * *

SIR WILLIAM JONES.

The life of Sir William Jones has been written by his friend Lord

Teignmouth with that minuteness which the character of so illustrious

and extraordinary a man deserved. He was born in London, on the

twenty-eighth of September, 1746. His father, whose Christian name he

bore, although sprung immediately from a race of yeomen in Anglesea,

could yet, like many a Cambro-Briton beside, have traced his descent, at

least in a maternal line, from the ancient princes of Wales. But what

distinguished him much more was, that he had attained so great a

proficiency in the study of mathematics as to become a teacher of that

branch of science in the English metropolis, under the patronage of Sir

Isaac Newton, and rose to such reputation by his writings, that he

attracted the notice and esteem of the powerful and the learned, and was

admitted to the intimacy of the Earls of Hardwicke, and Macclesfield;

Lord Parker, President of the Royal Society; Halley; Mead; and Samuel

Johnson. By his wife, Mary, the daughter of a cabinet-maker in London,

he had two sons, one of whom died an infant, and a daughter. In three

years after the birth of the remaining son, the father himself died, and

left the two children to the protection of their mother. An

extraordinary mark of her presence of mind, sufficiently indicated how

capable this mother was of executing the difficult duty imposed on her

by his decease. Dr. Mead had pronounced his case, which was a polypus on

the heart, to be a hopeless one; and her anxious precautions to hinder

the fatal intelligence from reaching him were on the point of being

defeated by the arrival of a letter of condolence and consolation from

an injudicious but well-meaning friend, when, on discovering its

purport, she had sufficient address to substitute the lively dictates of

her own invention for the real contents of the epistle, and by this

affectionate delusion not merely to satisfy the curiosity but to cheer

the spirits of her dying husband.

So great was her solicitude for the improvement of her son, that she

declined the pressing instances of the Countess of Macclesfield to

reside under her roof, lest she should be hindered from attending

exclusively to that which was now become her main concern. To the many

inquiries which the early vivacity of the boy prompted him to put to

her, the invariable answer she returned was, _read and you will know_.

This assurance, added to the other means of instruction, from which her

fondness, or more probably her discernment, induced her to exclude every

species of severity, were so efficacious that in his fourth year he was

able to read at sight any book in his own language. Two accidents

occurred to hinder this rapid advancement from proceeding. Once he

narrowly escaped being consumed by flames from having fallen into the

fire, while endeavouring to scrape down some soot from the chimney of a

room in which he had been left alone; and was rescued only in

consequence of the alarm given to the servants by his shrieks. At

another time, his eye was nearly put out by one of the hooks of his

dress, as he was struggling under the hands of the domestic who was

putting on his clothes. From the effects of this injury his sight never

completely recovered.

In his fifth year he received a strong impression from reading the

twentieth chapter of the Apocalypse. The man must have a cold

imagination who would deny that this casual influence might have first

disclosed not only the lofty and ardent spirit, but even that insatiable

love of learning, by which he was afterwards distinguished above all his

contemporaries. Amidst the general proscription of reading adapted to

excite wonder, that germ of knowledge, in the minds of our children, it

is lucky that the Bible is still left them.

At the end of his seventh year he was placed under the tuition of Dr.

Thackeray, the master of Harrow school; but had not been there two years

before a fracture of his thigh bone, that happened in a scramble among

his play-fellows, occasioned another suspension of his studies. During

the twelvemonth which he now passed at home with his mother, he became

so conversant with several writers in his own language, especially

Dryden and Pope, that he set himself about making imitations of them.

On his return to Harrow, no allowance was made for the inevitable

consequences of this interruption; he was replaced in the class with

those boys whose classical learning had been progressive while his was

stationary, or rather retrograde, and unmerited chastisement was

inflicted on him for his inferiority to those with whom he had wanted

the means of maintaining an equality. Impelled either by fear, by shame,

or by emulation, he laboured hard in private to repair his losses: of

his own accord recurred to the rudiments of the grammar; and was so

diligent that he speedily outstripped all his juvenile competitors.

In his twelfth year he entered into a scheme for representing a play in

conjunction with his schoolfellows; but instead of seeking his Dramatis

Personae among the heroes of Homer, as Pope had done in his boyhood,

Jones, by a remarkable effort of memory, committed to paper what he

retained of Shakspeare's Tempest, which he had read at his mother's; and

himself sustained the part of Prospero in that Comedy. Meanwhile, his

poetical faculty did not lie dormant. He turned into English verse all

Virgil's Eclogues and several of Ovid's Epistles; and wrote a Tragedy on

the fable of Meleager, which was acted during the holidays by himself

and his comrades, and in which he sustained the character of the hero. A

short specimen of the drama is preserved. The language brings to our

recollection that of the Mock Tragedy in Hamlet.

When the other boys were at their sports, Jones continued to linger over

his book, or, if he mingled in their diversions, his favourite objects

were still uppermost in his thoughts; he directed his playmates to

divide the fields into compartments to which he gave the names of the

several Grecian republics; allotted to each their political station; and

"wielding at will the fierce democracies," arranged the complicated

concerns of peace and war, attack and defence, councils, harangues, and

negociations. Dr. Thackeray was compelled to own that "if his pupil were

left naked and friendless on Salisbury plain, he would yet find his way

to fame and riches."

On the resignation of that master, the management of the school devolved

on Dr. Sumner, by whom Jones, then in his fifteenth year, was

particularly distinguished. Such was his zeal, that he devoted whole

nights to study; and not contented with applying himself at school to

the classical languages, and during the vacations to the Italian and

French, he attained Hebrew enough to enable him to read the Psalms in

the original, and made himself acquainted with the Arabic character.

Strangers, who visited Harrow, frequently inquired for him by the

appellation of the great scholar.

Some of his compositions from this time to his twentieth year, which he

collected and entitled Limon,[1] in imitation of the ancients, are

printed among his works. A young scholar who should now glance his eye

over the first chapter, containing speeches from Shakspeare and

Addison's Cato translated into Greek iambics on the model of the Three

Tragedians, would put aside the remainder with a smile of complacency at

the improvement which has since been made in this species of task under

the auspices of Porson.

His mother was urged by several of the legal profession, who interested

themselves in his welfare, to place him in the office of a special

pleader: but considerations of prudence, which represented to her that

the course of education necessary to qualify him for the practice of the

law was exceedingly expensive and the advantages remote, hindered her

from acquiescing in their recommendation; at the same time that his own

inclination and the earnest wishes of his master concurred in favour of

prosecuting his studies at college. Which of the two universities should

have the credit of perfecting instruction thus auspiciously commenced

was the next subject of debate. But the advice of Dr. Glasse, then a

private tutor at Harrow, prevailing over that of the head master, who,

by a natural partiality for the place of his own education would have

given the preference to Cambridge, he was in 1764 admitted of University

College in Oxford, whither his mother determined to remove her

residence, either for the purpose of superintending his health and

morals, or of enjoying the society of so excellent a son.

Before quitting school he presented to his friend Parnell, nephew of the

poet, and afterwards Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ireland, a

manuscript volume of English verses, consisting, among other pieces, of

that essay which some years after he moulded into his Arcadia; and of

translations from Sophocles, Theocritus, and Horace. If the

encouragement of Dr. Sumner had not been overruled by the dissuasion of

his more cautious friends, he would have committed to the press his

Greek and Latin compositions, among which was a Comedy in imitation of

the style of Aristophanes, entitled Mormo. Like many other lads whose

talents have unfolded in all their luxuriance under the kindness of an

indulgent master, he experienced a sudden chill at his first

transplantation into academic soil. His reason was perplexed amid the

intricacies of the school logic, and his taste revolted by the barbarous

language that enveloped it.

On the 31st of October he was unanimously elected to one of the four

scholarships founded by Sir Simon Bennet. But as he had three seniors,

his prospect of a fellowship was distant; and he was anxious to free his

mother from the inconvenience of contributing to his support. His

disgust for the University, however, was fortunately not of long

continuance. The college tutors relieved him from an useless and irksome

attendance on their lectures, and judiciously left the employment of his

time at his own disposal. He turned it to a good account in perusing the

principal Greek historians and poets, together with the whole of Lucian

and of Plato; writing notes, and exercising himself in imitations of his

favourite authors as he went on. In order to facilitate his acquisition

of the Arabic tongue, more particularly with regard to its

pronunciation, he engaged a native of Aleppo, named Mirza, whom he met

with in London, to accompany him to Oxford, and employed him in

re-translating the Arabian Nights' Entertainments into their original

language, whilst he wrote out the version himself as the other dictated,

and corrected the inaccuracies by the help of a grammar and lexicon. The

affinity which he discovered between this language and the modern

Persian, induced him to extend his researches to the latter dialect; and

he thus laid the foundation of his extraordinary knowledge in oriental

literature.

During the vacations he usually resorted to London, where he was

assiduous in his attendance on the schools of Angelo, for the sake of

accomplishing himself in the manly exercises of fencing and riding; and,

at home, directed his attention to modern languages; and familiarised

himself with the best writers in Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese:

"thus," he observed, "with the fortune of a peasant, he gave himself the

education of a prince."

The year after his entrance at college, he accepted a proposal that was

made him to undertake the education of Lord Althorpe, then a child about

seven years old; and for that purpose spent much of his time at

Wimbledon, where he composed many of his English poems, and studied

attentively the Hebrew Bible, particularly the prophetical writings, and

the book of Job.

In the summer of 1766, a fellowship of University College unexpectedly

became vacant; and being conferred on Jones, secured him the enjoyment

of that independence which he had so much desired. With independence he

seems to have been satisfied; for, on his return to Wimbledon, he

declined an offer made him by the Duke of Grafton, then first Lord of

the Treasury, of the place of interpreter for eastern languages. The

same answer which conveyed his refusal recommended in earnest terms his

friend Mirza as one fitted to perform the duties of the office, but the

application remained unnoticed; and he regretted that his inexperience

in such matters had prevented him from adopting the expedient of

nominally accepting the employment for himself, and consigning the

profits of it to the Syrian.

In 1767 he began his treatise De Poesi Asiatica, on the plan of Lowth's

Praelectiones, and composed a Persian grammar for the use of a

school-fellow, who was about to go to India. His usual course of study was

for a short time interrupted by an attendance on Earl Spencer, the father

of his pupil, to Spa. The ardour of his curiosity as a linguist made him

gladly seize the opportunity afforded him by this expedition of

obtaining some knowledge of German. Nor was he so indifferent to

slighter accomplishments as not to avail himself of the instructions of

a celebrated dancing master at Aix-la-Chapelle. He had before taken

lessons from Gallini in that trifling art. From a pensioner at Chelsea

he had learnt the use of the broadsword. He afterwards made an attempt,

in which, however, he does not seem to have persevered, to become a

performer on the national instrument of his forefathers, the harp.

Ambition of such various attainments reminds us of what is related

concerning the Admirable Crichton, and Pico of Mirandola.

Lives of the English Poets From Johnson to Kirke White, Designed as a Continuation of Johnson's Lives · 第 19 / 23 段