best known to themselves; but they absolutely rejected that part of it,
which was to fix the sole power of management in the patentee. Upon
which, and many other provocations afterward, becoming more and more
dissatisfied, he thought fit to demand repayment of five hundred pounds,
which he had lent the company; as he had several other sums before; and
not receiving it, but, on the contrary, being denied so much as an
acknowledgment that it was due, withdrew himself intirely from the
board, and left them to their measures.
'Thus at the same time have I offered my defence, and my opinion: By the
first I am sure I shall be acquitted from all imputations; and confirmed
in the good thoughts of the concerned on either side, who will know for
the future what attention they should give to idle reflections, and the
falsehood of rumour; and from the last, I have hopes that a plan may be
drawn, which will settle at once all disputed pretensions, and restore
that fair prospect, which the open advantage of last year's success
(indifferent as it was) has demonstrated to be a view that was no way
chimerical.--
'They know how to judge of malicious insinuations to my prejudice, by
this _one most scandalous example_, which has been given by the
endeavours of some to persuade the out-sharers that I have made an
extravagant _profit_ from the _losses_ of the adventurers. Whereas on
the contrary, out of _Twenty-five Thousand Guineas_, which was the whole
I should have received by the sale of the shares, I have given up
_Twenty Thousand Pounds_ to the use of the company, and to the annuities
afterward; and three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds more I paid
to the annuitants, at Lady-Day 1715, on the company's account; and have
never demanded it again, in consideration of their disappointments the
first year.
'So that it plainly appears, that out of twenty-five thousand guineas, I
have given away in two articles only, twenty-three thousand seven
hundred and fifty pounds for the public advantage. And I can easily
prove, that the little remainder has been short of making good the
charges I have been at for their service; by which means I am not one
farthing a gainer by the company, notwithstanding the clamour and malice
of some unthinking adventurers: And for the truth of all this, I appeal
to their own _Office-Books_, and defy the most angry among them to deny
any article of it. See then what a grateful and generous encouragement
may be expected by men, who would dedicate their labours to the profit
of others.
November the 30th. 1716. A. HILL.'
This, and much more, too tedious to insert, serves to demonstrate that
it was a great misfortune, for a mind so fertile of invention and
improvement, to be embarrassed by a narrow power of fortune; too weak
alone to execute such undertakings.
About the same year he wrote another Tragedy, intitled [Transcriber's
note: 'intiled' in original] the Fatal Vision[2], or the Fall of Siam
(which was acted the same year, in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields) to which he
gave this Motto out of Horace.
I not for vulgar admiration write;
To be well read, not much, is my delight.
And to his death he would declare in favour of that choice.--That year,
he likewise published the two first books of an Epic Poem, called Gideon
(founded on a Hebrew Story) which like its author, and all other
authors, had its enemies; but many more admirers.
But his poetic pieces were not frequent in their appearance. They were
the product of some leisure hours, when he relaxed his thoughts from
drier study; as he took great delight in diving into every useful
science, viz. criticism, history, geography, physic, commerce in
general, agriculture, war, and law; but in particular natural
philosophy, wherein he has made many and valuable discoveries.
Concerning poetry, he says, in his preface to King Henry the Vth, where
he laments the want of taste for Tragedy,
'But in all events I will be easy, who have no better reason to wish
well to poetry, than my love for a mistress I shall never be married to:
For, whenever I grow ambitious, I shall wish to build higher; and owe my
memory to some occasion of more importance than my writings.'
He had acquired so deep an insight in law, that he has from his
arguments and demonstrations obliged some of the greatest council
(formally) under their hands, to retract their own first-given opinions.
He wrote part of a Tract of War; another upon Agriculture; but they are
left unfinished, with several other pieces.
In his younger days he bought a grant of Sir Robert Montgomery (who had
purchas'd it of the lords proprietors of Carolina) with whom, &c. be had
been concern'd, in a design of settling a new plantation in the South of
Carolina, of a vast tract of land; on which he then designed to pursue
the same intention.--But being not master of a fortune equal to that
scheme, it never proved of any service to him, though many years since,
it has been cultivated largely[3].
His person was (in youth) extremely fair, and handsome; his eyes were a
dark blue, both bright and penetrating; brown hair and visage oval;
which was enlivened with a smile, the most agreeable in conversation;
where his address was affably engageing; to which was joined a dignity,
which rendered him at once respected and admired, by those (of either
sex) who were acquainted with him--He was tall, genteelly made, and not
thin.--His voice was sweet, his conversation elegant; and capable of
entertaining upon various subjects.--His disposition was benevolent,
beyond the power of the fortune he was blessed with; the calamities of
those he knew (and valued as deserving) affected him more than his own:
He had fortitude of mind sufficient to support with calmness great
misfortune; and from his birth it may be truly said he was obliged to
meet it.
Of himself, he says in his epistle dedicatory to one of his poems,
'I am so devoted a lover of a private and unbusy life, that I cannot
recollect a time wherein I wish'd an increase to the little influence
I cultivate in the dignified world, unless when I have felt the
deficience of my own power, to reward some merit that has charm'd
me:'--
His temper, though by nature warm (when injuries were done him) was as
nobly forgiving; mindful of that great lesson in religion, of returning
good for evil; and he fulfilled it often to the prejudice of his own
circumstances. He was a tender husband, friend, and father; one of the
best masters to his servants, detesting the too common inhumanity, that
treats them almost as if they were not fellow-creatures.
His manner of life was temperate in all respects (which might have
promis'd greater length of years) late hours excepted which his
indefatigable love of study drew him into; night being not liable to
interruptions like the day.
About the year 1718 he wrote a poem called the Northern-Star, upon the
actions of the Czar Peter the Great; and several years after he was
complimented with a gold medal from the empress Catherine (according to
the Czar's desire before his death) and was to have wrote his life, from
papers which were to be sent him of the Czar's: But the death of the
Czarina, quickly after, prevented it.--In an advertisement to the
reader, in the fifth edition of that poem, published in 1739, the author
says of it.
'Though the design was profess'd panegyric, I may with modesty venture
to say it was not a very politic, perhaps, but an honest example of
praise without flattery.--In the verse, I am afraid there was much to be
blamed, as too low; but, I am sure there was none of that fault in the
purpose: The poem having never been hinted, either before or after the
publication, to any person (native or foreigner) who could be supposed
to have interest in, or concern for, its subject.
'In effect, it had for six years or more been forgot by myself--and my
country,--when upon the death of the prince it referred to, I was
surprized by the condescension of a compliment from the empress his
relict, and immediate successor; and thereby first became sensible that
the poem had, by means of some foreign translation, reach'd the eye and
regard of that emphatically great monarch, in justice to whom it was
written.'
Soon after he finished six books more of Gideon; which made eight, of
the twelve he purpos'd writing; but did not live to finish it.
In 1723 he brought his Tragedy called King Henry the Vth, upon the stage
in Drury-Lane; which is (as he declares in the preface) a new fabric,
yet built on Shakespear's foundation.
In 1724, for the advantage of an unhappy gentleman (an old officer in
the army) he wrote a paper in the manner of the Spectators, in
conjunction with Mr. William Bond, &c. intitled the Plain Dealer; which
were some time after published in two volumes octavo. And many of his
former writings were appropriated to such humane uses; both those to
which he has prefixed his name, and several others which he wrote and
gave away intirely. But, though the many imagined authors are not
living, their names, and those performances will be omitted here; yet,
in mere justice to the character of Mr. Hill, we mention this
particular.
In 1728, he made a journey into the North of Scotland, where he had been
about two years before, having contracted with the York-Buildings
Company, concerning many woods of great extent in that kingdom, for
timber for the uses of the navy; and many and various were the
assertions upon this occasion: Some thought, and thence reported, that
there was not a stick in Scotland could be capable of answering that
purpose; but he demonstrated the contrary: For, though there was not a
great number large enough for masts to ships of the greatest burthen;
yet there were millions, fit for all smaller vessels; and planks and
banks, proper for every sort of building.--One ship was built entirely
of it; and a report was made, that never any better timber was brought
from any part of the world: But he found many difficulties in this
undertaking; yet had sagacity to overcome them all (as far as his own
management extended) for when the trees were by his order chain'd
together into floats, the ignorant Highlanders refus'd to venture
themselves on them down the river Spey; till he first went himself, to
make them sensible there was no danger.--In which passage however, he
found a great obstacle in the rocks, by which that river seemed
impassible; but on these he ordered fires to be made, when by the
lowness of the river they were most expos'd; and then had quantities of
water thrown upon them: Which method being repeated with the help of
proper tools, they were broke in pieces and thrown down, which made the
passage easy for the floats.
This affair was carried on to a very good account, till those concern'd
thought proper to call off the men and horses from the woods of
Abernethy, in order to employ them in their lead mines in the same
country; from which they hoped to make greater advantage.
The magistrates of Inverness paid him the compliment of making him a
present of the freedom of that place (at an elegant entertainment made
by them on that occasion) a favour likewise offered him at Aberdeen, &c.
After a stay of several months in the Highlands, during which time he
visited the duke and duchess of Gordon, who distinguished him with great
civilities, he went to York, and other places in that country; where his
wife then was, with some relations, for the recovery of her health; but
his staying longer there (on that account) than he intended, had like to
have proved of unhappy consequence; by giving room for some, who
imagined (as they wished) that he would not return, to be guilty of a
breach of trust that aimed at the destruction of great part of what he
then was worth; but they were disappointed.
In that retirement in the North, he wrote a poem intitled, The Progress
of Wit, a Caveat for the use of an eminent Writer. It was composed of
the genteelest praise, and keenest allegorical satire; and it gave no
small uneasiness to Mr. Pope: Who had indeed drawn it upon himself, by
being the aggressor in his Dunciad.--This afterwards occasioned a
private paper-war between those writers, in which 'tis generally thought
that Mr. Hill had greatly the advantage of Mr. Pope. For the
particulars, the reader is referred to a shilling pamphlet lately
published by Owen, containing Letters between Mr. Pope and Mr. Hill, &c.
The progress of wit begins with the eight following lines, wherein the
SNEAKINGLY APPROVES affected Mr. Pope extreamly.
Tuneful Alexis on the Thames' fair side,
The Ladies play-thing, and the Muses pride,
With merit popular, with wit polite,
Easy tho' vain, and elegant tho' light:
Desiring, and deserving other's praise,
Poorly accepts a fame he ne'er repays:
Unborn to cherish, SNEAKINGLY APPROVES,
And wants the soul to spread the worth he loves.
During their controversy, Mr. Pope seemed to express his repentance, by
denying the offence he had given; thus, in one of his letters, he says,
'That the letters A.H. were apply'd to you in the papers I did not know
(for I seldom read them) I heard it only from Mr. Savage[4], as from
yourself, and sent my assurances to the contrary: But I don't see how
the annotator on the D. could have rectified that mistake publicly,
without particularizing your name in a book where I thought it too good
to be inserted, &c.[5].'
And in another place he says,
'I should imagine the Dunciad meant you a real compliment, and so it has
been thought by many who have ask'd to whom that passage made that
oblique panegyric. As to the notes, I am weary of telling a great truth,
which is, that I am not author of them, &c.'
Which paragraph was answer'd by the following in Mr. Hill's reply.
'As to your oblique panegyric, I am not under so blind an attachment to
the goddess I was devoted to in the Dunciad, but that I know it was a
commendation; though a dirtier one than I wished for; who am neither
fond of some of the company in which I was listed--the noble reward, for
which I was to become a diver;--the allegorical muddiness in which I was
to try my skill;--nor the institutor of the games you were so kind to
allow me a share in, &c.'--A genteel severe reprimand.
Much about the same time he wrote another poem, called Advice to the
Poets; in praise of worthy poetry, and in censure of the misapplication
of poetry in general. The following lines here quoted, are the motto of
it, taken from the poem.
Shame on your jingling, ye soft sons of rhyme,
Tuneful consumers of your reader's time!
Fancy's light dwarfs! whose feather-footed strains,
Dance in wild windings, thro' a waste of brains:
Your's is the guilt of all, who judging wrong,
Mistake tun'd nonsense for the poet's song.
He likewise in this piece, reproves the above named celebrated author,
for descending below his genius; and in speaking of the inspiration of
the Muse, he says,
I feel her now.--Th'invader fires my breast:
And my soul swells, to suit the heav'nly guest.
Hear her, O Pope!--She sounds th'inspir'd decree,
Thou great Arch-Angel of wit's heav'n! for thee!
Let vulgar genii, sour'd by sharp disdain,
Piqu'd and malignant, words low war maintain,
While every meaner art exerts her aim,
O'er rival arts, to list her question'd fame;
Let half-soul'd poets still on poets fall,
And teach the willing world to scorn them all.
But, let no Muse, pre-eminent as thine,
Of voice melodious, and of force divine,
Stung by wits, wasps, all rights of rank forego,
And turn, and snarl, and bite, at every foe.
No--like thy own Ulysses, make no stay
Shun monsters--and pursue thy streamy way.
In 1731 he brought his Tragedy of Athelwold upon the stage in
Drury-Lane; which, as he says in his preface to it, was written on the
same subject as his Elfrid or the Fair Inconstant, which he there calls,
'An unprun'd wilderness of fancy, with here and there a flower among the
leaves; but without any fruit of judgment.'--
He likewise mentions it as a folly, having began and finished Elfrid in
a week; and both the difference of time and judgment are visible in
favour of the last of those performances.
That year he met the greatest shock that affliction ever gave him; in
the loss of one of the most worthy of wives, to whom he had been married
above twenty years.
The following epitaph he wrote, and purpos'd for a monument which he
designed to erect over her grave.
Enough, cold stone! suffice her long-lov'd name;
Words are too weak to pay her virtues claim.
Temples, and tombs, and tongues, shall waste away,
And power's vain pomp, in mould'ring dust decay.
But e'er mankind a wife more perfect see,
Eternity, O Time! shall bury thee.
He was a man susceptible of love, in its sublimest sense; as may be seen
in that poetical description of that passion, which he has given in his
poem called the Picture of Love; wrote many years ago (from whence the
following two lines are taken)
No wild desire can this proud bliss bestow,
Souls must be match'd in heav'n, tho' mix'd below.
About the year 1735 he was concern'd with another gentleman in writing a
paper called the Prompter; all those mark'd with a B. were his.--This
was meant greatly for the service of the stage; and many of them have
been regarded in the highest manner.--But, as there was not only
instruction, but reproof, the bitter, with the sweet, by some could not
be relish'd.
In 1736 having translated from the French of Monsieur de Voltaire, the
Tragedy of Zara, he gave it to be acted for the benefit of Mr. William
Bond; and it was represented first, at the Long-Room in Villars-Street,
York-Buildings; where that poor gentleman performed the part of Lusignan
(the old expiring king) a character he was at that time too well suited
to; being, and looking, almost dead, as in reality he was before the run
of it was over.--Soon after this play was brought upon the stage in
Drury-Lane, by Mr. Fleetwood, at the earnest sollicitation of Mr.
Theophilus Cibber; the part of Zara was played by Mrs. Cibber, and was
her first attempt in Tragedy; of the performers therein he makes very
handsome mention in the preface. This play he dedicated to his royal
highness the Prince of Wales.
The same year was acted, at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, another
Tragedy of his translating from the same French author, called Alzira,
which was likewise dedicated to the Prince.--His dedications generally
wore a different face from those of other writers; he there most warmly
recommends Monsieur de Voltaire, as worthy of his royal highness's
partiality; disclaiming for himself all expectations of his notice. But
he was, notwithstanding, particularly honoured with his approbation.
These plays, if not a litteral translation, have been thought much
better, for their having past his hands; as generously was acknowledged
by Monsieur de Voltaire himself.
In 1737 he published a poem called, The Tears of the Muses; composed of
general satire: in the address to the reader he says (speaking of
satire)
'There is, indeed, something so like cruelty in the face of that
species of poetry, that it can only be reconciled to humanity, by the
general benevolence of its purpose; attacking particulars for the
public advantage.'
The following year he wrote (in prose) a book called, An Enquiry into
the Merit of Assassination, with a View to the Character of Cæsar; and
his Designs on the Roman Republic.
About this time, he in a manner left the world, (though living near so
populous a part of it as London) and settled at Plaistow in Essex; where
he entirely devoted himself to his study, family, and garden; and the
accomplishment of many profitable views; particularly one, in which for
years he had laboured through experiments in vain; and when he brought
it to perfection, did not live to reap the benefit of it: The discovery
of the art of making pot-ash like the Russian, which cost this nation,
yearly, an immense sum of money.
In the year 1743 he published The Fanciad, an Heroic Poem; inscribed to
his grace the duke of Marlborough: Who as no name was then prefixed to
it, perhaps, knew not the author by whom he was distinguished in it.
Soon after he wrote another, intitled the Impartial; which he inscribed,
in the same manner, to the lord Carteret (now earl of Granville). In the
beginning of it are the following lines,
Burn, sooty slander, burn thy blotted scroll;
Greatness is greatness, spite of faction's soul.
Deep let my soul detest th'adhesive pride,
That changing sentiment, unchanges side.
It would be tedious to enumerate the variety of smaller pieces he at
different times was author of.
His notions of the deity were boundlessly extensive; and the few lines
here quoted from his Poem upon faith, published in 1746, must give the
best idea of his sentiments upon that most elevated of all subjects.
What then must be believ'd?--Believe God kind,
To fear were to offend him. Fill thy heart
With his felt laws; and act the good he loves.
Rev'rence his power. Judge him but by his works:
Know him but in his mercies. Rev'rence too
The most mistaken schemes that mean his praise.
Rev'rence his priests.--for ev'ry priest is his,--
Who finds him in his conscience.--
This year he published his Art of Acting, a Poem, deriving Rules from a
new Principle, for touching the Passions in a natural Manner, &c. Which
was dedicated to the Earl of Chesterfield.
Having for many years been in a manner forgetful of the eight Books he
had finished of his Epic Poem called Gideon,--in 1749 he re-perused that
work, and published three of the Books; to which he gave the name of
Gideon, or the Patriot.--They were inscribed to the late lord
Bolingbroke; to whom he accounts as follows, for the alterations he had
made since the first publication of two Books.
Erring, where thousands err'd, in youth's hot smart,
Propulsive prejudice had warp'd his heart:
Bold, and too loud he sigh'd, for high distress,
Fond of the fall'n, nor form'd to serve success;
Partial to woes, had weigh'd their cause too light,
Wept o'er misfortune,--and mis-nam'd it right:
Anguish, attracting, turn'd attachment wrong,
And pity's note mis-tun'd his devious song.
'Tis much lamented by many who are admirers of that species of poetry,
that the author did not finish it.
The same year (after a length of different applications, for several
seasons, at both Theatres without success) his Tragedy, called Merope,
was brought upon the stage in Drury-Lane by Mr. Garrick; to whom, as
well as to another gentleman he likewise highly both admired and
esteemed, he was greatly obliged; and his own words (here borrowed) will
shew how just a sense he had of these obligations.--They begin the
preface to the play.
'If there can be a pride that ranks with virtues, it is that we feel
from friendships with the worthy. Mr. Mallet, therefore, must forgive
me, that I boast the honour he has done my Merope--I have so long been a
retreater from the world, that one of the best spirits in it told me
lately, I had made myself an alien there. I must confess, I owe so many
obligations to its ornaments of most distinguished genius, that I must
have looked upon it as a great unhappiness to have made choice of
solitude, could I have judged society in general, by a respect so due to
these adorners of it.'
And in relation to this Tragedy he says, after very justly censuring
Monsieur de Voltaire, for representing in the preface to his Merope the
English as incapable of Tragedy,
'To such provoking stimulations I have owed inducement to retouch, for
Mr. Voltaire's use, the characters in his high boasted Merope; and I
have done it on a plan as near his own as I could bring it with a safe
conscience; that is to say, without distaste to English audiences.
This he likewise dedicated to lord Bolingbroke; and was the last he ever
wrote.--There is a melancholy thread of fatal prophecy in the beginning
of it; of his own approaching dissolution.
Cover'd in fortune's shade, I rest reclin'd;
My griefs all silent; and my joys resign'd.
With patient eye life's evening gloom survey:
Nor shake th'out-hast'ning sands; nor bid 'em stay--
Yet, while from life my setting prospects fly,
Fain wou'd my mind's weak offspring shun to die.
Fain wou'd their hope some light through time explore;
The name's kind pasport--When the man's no more.