MATTHEW PRIOR is one of those that have burst out from an obscure
original to great eminence. He was born July 21, 1664, according to
some, at Wimborne, in Dorsetshire, of I know not what parents; others say
that he was the son of a joiner of London: he was perhaps willing enough
to leave his birth unsettled, in hope, like Don Quixote, that the
historian of his actions might find him some illustrious alliance. He is
supposed to have fallen, by his father’s death, into the hands of his
uncle, a vintner near Charing Cross, who sent him for some time to Dr.
Busby, at Westminster; but, not intending to give him any education
beyond that of the school, took him, when he was well advanced in
literature, to his own house, where the Earl of Dorset, celebrated for
patronage of genius, found him by chance, as Burnet relates, reading
Horace, and was so well pleased with his proficiency, that he undertook
the care and cost of his academical education. He entered his name in
St. John’s College, at Cambridge, in 1682, in his eighteenth year; and it
may be reasonably supposed that he was distinguished among his
contemporaries. He became a Bachelor, as is usual, in four years, and
two years afterwards wrote the poem on the Deity, which stands first in
his volume.
It is the established practice of that College to send every year to the
Earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred subjects, in acknowledgment of a
benefaction enjoyed by them from the bounty of his ancestor. On this
occasion were those verses written, which, though nothing is said of
their success, seem to have recommended him to some notice; for his
praise of the countess’s music, and his lines on the famous picture of
Seneca, afford reason for imagining that he was more or less conversant
with that family.
The same year he published “The City Mouse and Country Mouse,” to
ridicule Dryden’s “Hind and Panther,” in conjunction with Mr. Montague.
There is a story of great pain suffered, and of tears shed, on this
occasion by Dryden, who thought it hard that “an old man should be so
treated by those to whom he had always been civil.” By tales like these
is the envy raised by superior abilities every day gratified. When they
are attacked every one hopes to see them humbled; what is hoped is
readily believed, and what is believed is confidently told. Dryden had
been more accustomed to hostilities than that such enemies should break
his quiet; and, if we can suppose him vexed, it would be hard to deny him
sense enough to conceal his uneasiness.
“The City Mouse and Country Mouse” procured its authors more solid
advantages than the pleasure of fretting Dryden, for they were both
speedily preferred. Montague, indeed, obtained the first notice with
some degree of discontent, as it seems, in Prior, who probably knew that
his own part of the performance was the best. He had not, however, much
reason to complain, for he came to London and obtained such notice that
(in 1691) he was sent to the Congress at the Hague as secretary to the
embassy. In this assembly of princes and nobles, to which Europe has
perhaps scarcely seen anything equal, was formed the grand alliance
against Louis, which at last did not produce effects proportionate so the
magnificence of the transaction.
The conduct of Prior, in this splendid initiation into public business,
was so pleasing to King William, that he made him one of the gentlemen of
his bedchamber; and he is supposed to have passed some of the next years
in the quiet cultivation of literature and poetry.
The death of Queen Mary (in 1695) produced a subject for all the
writers—perhaps no funeral was ever so poetically attended. Dryden,
indeed, as a man discountenanced and deprived, was silent; but scarcely
any other maker of verses omitted to bring his tribute of tuneful sorrow.
An emulation of elegy was universal. Mary’s praise was not confined to
the English language, but fills a great part of the _Musæ Anglicanæ_.
Prior, who was both a poet and a courtier, was too diligent to miss this
opportunity of respect. He wrote a long ode, which was presented to the
king, by whom it was not likely to be ever read. In two years he was
secretary to another embassy at the Treaty of Ryswick (in 1697), and next
year had the same office at the court of France, where he is said to have
been considered with great distinction. As he was one day surveying the
apartments at Versailles, being shown the “Victories of Louis,” painted
by Le Brun, and asked whether the King of England’s palace had any such
decorations: “The monuments of my master’s actions,” said he, “are to be
seen everywhere but in his own house.”
The pictures of Le Brun are not only in themselves sufficiently
ostentatious, but were explained by inscriptions so arrogant, that
Boileau and Racine thought it necessary to make them more simple. He was
in the following year at Leo with the king, from whom, after a long
audience, he carried orders to England, and upon his arrival became Under
Secretary of State in the Earl of Jersey’s office, a post which he did
not retain long, because Jersey was removed, but he was soon made
Commissioner of Trade.
This year (1700) produced one of his longest and most splendid
compositions, the “Carmen Seculare,” in which he exhausts all his powers
of celebration. I mean not to accuse him of flattery; he probably
thought all that he writ, and retained as much veracity as can be
properly exacted from a poet professedly encomiastic. King William
supplied copious materials for either verse or prose. His whole life had
been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent qualities of steady
resolution and personal courage. He was really in Prior’s mind what he
represents him in his verses; he considered him as a hero, and was
accustomed to say that he praised others in compliance with the fashion,
but that in celebrating King William he followed his inclination. To
Prior, gratitude would dictate praise, which reason would not refuse.
Among the advantages to arise from the future years of William’s reign,
he mentions a Society for Useful Arts, and among them:—
“Some that with care true eloquence shall teach,
And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech;
That from our writers distant realms may know
The thanks we to our monarchs owe,
And schools profess our tongue through every land
That has invoked his aid, or blessed his hand.”