Of the birth, or early part of the life, of Ambrose Philips, I have not
been able to find any account. His academical education he received at
St. John's college, in Cambridge[169], where he first solicited the
notice of the world by some English verses, in the collection, published
by the university, on the death of queen Mary.
From this time, how he was employed, or in what station he passed his
life, is not yet discovered. He must have published his Pastorals before
the year 1708, because they are, evidently, prior to those of Pope.
He afterwards, 1709, addressed to the universal patron, the duke of
Dorset, a poetical Letter from Copenhagen, which was published in the
Tatler, and is, by Pope, in one of his first letters, mentioned with
high praise, as the production of a man "who could write very nobly."
Philips was a zealous whig, and, therefore, easily found access to
Addison and Steele; but his ardour seems not to have procured him any
thing more than kind words; since he was reduced to translate the
Persian Tales for Tonson, for which he was afterwards reproached, with
this addition of contempt, that he worked for half-a-crown. The book is
divided into many sections, for each of which, if he received
half-a-crown, his reward, as writers then were paid, was very liberal;
but half-a-crown had a mean sound.
He was employed in promoting the principles of his party, by epitomising
Hacket's Life of Archbishop Williams. The original book is written with
such depravity of genius, such mixture of the fop and pedant, as has not
often appeared. The epitome is free enough from affectation, but has
little spirit or vigour[170].
In 1712, he brought upon the stage the Distrest Mother, almost a
translation of Racine's Andromaque. Such a work requires no uncommon
powers; but the friends of Philips exerted every art to promote his
interest. Before the appearance of the play, a whole Spectator, none,
indeed, of the best, was devoted to its praise; while it yet continued
to be acted, another Spectator was written, to tell what impression it
made upon sir Roger; and, on the first night, a select audience, says
Pope[171], was called together to applaud it.
It was concluded with the most successful epilogue that was ever yet
spoken on the English theatre. The three first nights it was recited
twice; and not only continued to be demanded through the run, as it is
termed, of the play, but, whenever it is recalled to the stage, where,
by peculiar fortune, though a copy from the French, it yet keeps its
place, the epilogue is still expected, and is still spoken.
The propriety of epilogues in general, and, consequently, of this, was
questioned by a correspondent of the Spectator, whose letter was
undoubtedly admitted for the sake of the answer, which soon followed,
written with much zeal and acrimony. The attack and the defence equally
contributed to stimulate curiosity and continue attention. It may be
discovered, in the defence, that Prior's epilogue to Phædra had a little
excited jealousy; and something of Prior's plan may be discovered in the
performance of his rival. Of this distinguished epilogue the reputed
author was the wretched Budgel, whom Addison used to denominate[172]
"the man who calls me cousin;" and when he was asked, how such a silly
fellow could write so well, replied, "the epilogue was quite another
thing when I saw it first." It was known in Tonson's family, and told to
Garrick, that Addison was himself the author of it, and that, when it
had been at first printed with his name, he came early in the morning,
before the copies were distributed, and ordered it to be given to
Budgel, that it might add weight to the solicitation which he was then
making for a place.
Philips was now high in the ranks of literature. His play was applauded;
his translations from Sappho had been published in the Spectator; he was
an important and distinguished associate of clubs, witty and political;
and nothing was wanting to his happiness, but that he should be sure of
its continuance.
The work which had procured him the first notice from the publick, was
his Six Pastorals, which, flattering the imagination with Arcadian
scenes, probably found many readers, and might have long passed as a
pleasing amusement, had they not been, unhappily, too much commended.
The rustick poems of Theocritus were so highly valued by the Greeks and
Romans, that they attracted the imitation of Virgil, whose eclogues seem
to have been considered as precluding all attempts of the same kind;
for, no shepherds were taught to sing by any succeeding poet, till
Nemesian and Calphurnius ventured their feeble efforts in the lower age
of Latin literature.
At the revival of learning in Italy, it was soon discovered, that a
dialogue of imaginary swains might be composed with little difficulty;
because the conversation of shepherds excludes profound or refined
sentiment; and, for images and descriptions, satyrs and fawns, and
naiads and dryads, were always within call; and woods and meadows, and
hills and rivers, supplied variety of matter, which; having a natural
power to sooth the mind, did not quickly cloy it.
Petrarch entertained the learned men of his age with the novelty of
modern pastorals in Latin. Being not ignorant of Greek, and finding
nothing in the word _eclogue_, of rural meaning, he supposed it to be
corrupted by the copiers, and, therefore, called his own productions
_oeglogues_, by which he meant to express the talk of goatherds, though
it will mean only the talk of goats. This new name was adopted by
subsequent writers, and, amongst others, by our Spenser.
More than a century afterwards, 1498, Mantuan published his Bucolicks
with such success, that they were soon dignified by Badius with a
comment, and, as Scaliger complained, received into schools, and taught
as classical; his complaint was vain, and the practice, however
injudicious, spread far, and continued long. Mantuan was read, at least
in some of the inferiour schools of this kingdom, to the beginning of
the present century. The speakers of Mantuan carried their disquisitions
beyond the country, to censure the corruptions of the church; and from
him Spenser learned to employ his swains on topicks of controversy.
The Italians soon transferred pastoral poetry into their own language:
Sannazaro wrote Arcadia in prose and verse: Tasso and Guarini wrote
Favole Boschareccie, or sylvan dramas; and all nations of Europe filled
volumes with Thyrsis and Damon, and Thestylis and Phyllis.
Philips thinks it somewhat strange to conceive "how, in an age so
addicted to the muses, pastoral poetry never comes to be so much as
thought upon." His wonder seems very unseasonable; there had never, from
the time of Spenser, wanted writers to talk occasionally of Arcadia and
Strephon; and half the book, in which he first tried his powers,
consists of dialogues on queen Mary's death, between Tityrus and
Corydon, or Mopsus and Menalcas. A series or book of pastorals, however,
I know not that any one had then lately published.
Not long afterwards, Pope made the first display of his powers in four
pastorals, written in a very different form. Philips had taken Spenser,
and Pope took Virgil for his pattern. Philips endeavoured to be natural,
Pope laboured to be elegant.
Philips was now favoured by Addison, and by Addison's companions, who
were very willing to push him into reputation. The Guardian gave an
account of pastoral, partly critical, and partly historical; in which,
when the merit of the moderns is compared, Tasso and Guarini are
censured for remote thoughts and unnatural refinements; and, upon the
whole, the Italians and French are all excluded from rural poetry; and
the pipe of the pastoral muse is transmitted, by lawful inheritance,
from Theocritus to Virgil, from Virgil to Spenser, and from Spenser to
Philips.
With this inauguration of Philips, his rival Pope was not much
delighted; he, therefore, drew a comparison of Philips's performance
with his own, in which, with an unexampled and unequalled artifice of
irony, though he has himself always the advantage, he gives the
preference to Philips. The design of aggrandizing himself he disguised
with such dexterity, that, though Addison discovered it, Steele was
deceived, and was afraid of displeasing Pope by publishing his paper.
Published, however, it was, (Guardian, 40,) and from that time Pope and
Philips lived in a perpetual reciprocation of malevolence.
In poetical powers, of either praise or satire, there was no proportion
between the combatants; but Philips, though he could not prevail by wit,
hoped to hurt Pope with another weapon, and charged him, as Pope
thought, with Addison's approbation, as disaffected to the government.
Even with this he was not satisfied; for, indeed, there is no appearance
that any regard was paid to his clamours. He proceeded to grosser
insults, and hung up a rod at Button's, with which he threatened to
chastise Pope, who appears to have been extremely exasperated; for, in
the first edition of his letters, he calls Philips "rascal," and in the
last still charges him with detaining, in his hands, the subscriptions
for Homer, delivered to him by the Hanover club.
I suppose it was never suspected that he meant to appropriate the money;
he only delayed, and with sufficient meanness, the gratification of him
by whose prosperity he was pained.
Men sometimes suffer by injudicious kindness; Philips became ridiculous,
without his own fault, by the absurd admiration of his friends, who
decorated him with honorary garlands, which the first breath of
contradiction blasted.
When upon the succession of the house of Hanover every whig expected to
be happy, Philips seems to have obtained too little notice; he caught
few drops of the golden shower, though he did not omit what flattery
could perform. He was only made a commissioner of the lottery, 1717,
and, what did not much elevate his character, a justice of the peace.
The success of his first play must naturally dispose him to turn his
hopes towards the stage: he did not, however, soon commit himself to the
mercy of an audience, but contented himself with the fame already
acquired, till after nine years he produced, 1722, the Briton, a tragedy
which, whatever was its reception, is now neglected; though one of the
scenes, between Vanoc, the British prince, and Valens, the Roman
general, is confessed to be written with great dramatick skill, animated
by spirit truly poetical.
He had not been idle, though he had been silent: for he exhibited
another tragedy the same year, on the story of Humphry, duke of
Gloucester. This tragedy is only remembered by its title.
His happiest undertaking was of a paper, called the Freethinker, in
conjunction with associates, of whom one was Dr. Boulter, who, then only
minister of a parish in Southwark, was of so much consequence to the
government, that he was made, first, bishop of Bristol, and, afterwards,
primate of Ireland, where his piety and his charity will be long
honoured.
It may easily be imagined that what was printed under the direction of
Boulter would have nothing in it indecent or licentious; its title is to
be understood as implying only freedom from unreasonable prejudice. It
has been reprinted in volumes, but is little read; nor can impartial
criticism recommend it as worthy of revival.
Boulter was not well qualified to write diurnal essays; but he knew how
to practise the liberality of greatness and the fidelity of friendship.
When he was advanced to the height of ecclesiastical dignity, he did not
forget the companion of his labours. Knowing Philips to be slenderly
supported, he took him to Ireland, as partaker of his fortune; and,
making him his secretary[173], added such preferments, as enabled him to
represent the county of Armagh in the Irish parliament.
In December, 1726, he was made secretary to the lord chancellor; and in
August, 1733, became judge of the prerogative court.
After the death of his patron he continued some years in Ireland; but at
last longing, as it seems, for his native country, he returned, 1748, to
London, having, doubtless, survived most of his friends and enemies, and
among them his dreaded antagonist, Pope. He found, however, the duke of
Newcastle still living, and to him he dedicated his poems, collected
into a volume.
Having purchased an annuity of four hundred pounds, he now certainly
hoped to pass some years of life in plenty and tranquillity; but his
hope deceived him; he was struck with a palsy, and died June 18, 1749,
in his seventy-eighth year[174].
Of his personal character, all that I have heard is, that he was eminent
for bravery and skill in the sword, and that in conversation he was
solemn and pompous. He had great sensibility of censure, if judgment may
be made by a single story which I heard long ago from Mr. Ing, a
gentleman of great eminence in Staffordshire. "Philips," said he, "was
once at table, when I asked him, how came thy king of Epirus to drive
oxen, and to say 'I'm goaded on by love?' After which question he never
spoke again[175]."
Of the Distrest Mother, not much is pretended to be his own, and,
therefore, it is no subject of criticism: his other two tragedies, I
believe, are not below mediocrity nor above it. Among the poems
comprised in the late collection, the Letter from Denmark may be justly
praised; the Pastorals, which, by the writer of the Guardian, were
ranked as one of the four genuine productions of the rustick muse,
cannot surely be despicable. That they exhibit a mode of life which does
not exist, nor ever existed, is not to be objected: the supposition of
such a state is allowed to pastoral. In his other poems he cannot be
denied the praise of lines sometimes elegant; but he has seldom much
force, or much comprehension. The pieces that please best are those
which from Pope and Pope's adherents procured him the name of _Namby
Pamby_, the poems of short lines, by which he paid his court to all ages
and characters, from Walpole, "the steerer of the realm," to Miss
Pulteney in the nursery. The numbers are smooth and sprightly, and the
diction is seldom faulty. They are not loaded with much thought, yet, if
they had been written by Addison, they would have had admirers: little
things are not valued but when they are done by those who can do
greater.
In his translations from Pindar, he found the art of reaching all the
obscurity of the Theban bard, however he may fall below his sublimity;
he will be allowed, if he has less fire, to have more smoke.
He has added nothing to English poetry, yet, at least, half his book
deserves to be read: perhaps he valued most himself that part which the
critick would reject.
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[Footnote 169: He took his degrees, A. B. 1696, A. M. 1700.]
[Footnote 170: This ought to have been noticed before. It was published
in 1700, when he appears to have obtained a fellowship of St. John's.]
[Footnote 171: Spence.]
[Footnote 172: Ibid.]
[Footnote 173: The archbishop's letters, published in 1760, (the
originals of which are now in Christ-church library, Oxford,) were
collected by Mr. Philips.]
[Footnote 174: At his house in Hanover-street, and was buried in Audley
chapel.]
[Footnote 175: Mr. Ing's eminence does not seem to have been derived
from his wit. That the _men_ who drive _oxen_ are goaded, seems to be a
custom peculiar to Staffordshire. J.B.]