illness seized him; from the tormenting pains of which he had scarce an
hour's intermission; and after making trial of all he thought could be
of service to him in medicine; he was desirous to try his native air of
London (as that of Plaistow was too moist a one) but he was then past
all recovery, and wasted almost to a skeleton, from some internal cause,
that had produced a general decay (and was believed to have been an
inflamation in the kidneys; which his intense attachment to his studies
might probably lay the foundation of.--When in town, he had the comfort
of being honoured with the visits of the most worthy and esteemed among
his friends; but he was not permitted many weeks to taste that blessing.
[Transcriber's note: closing brackets missing in original.]
The same humane and generous Mr. Mallet, who had before aided his
Merope, about this time was making interest for its being played again,
for the advantage of its author:--His royal highness the prince of
Wales; had the great goodness to command it; and Mr. Hill just lived to
express his grateful acknowledgments (to those about him) upon hearing
of it:--But on the day before it was to be represented he died, in the
very minute of the earthquake, February the eighth, 1749, which he
seemed sensible of, though then deprived of utterance. Had he lived two
days longer, he had been sixty-five years old.--He endur'd a
twelve-month's torment of the body with a calmness that confess'd a
superiority of soul! He was interred in the same grave with her the most
dear to him when living, in the great cloister of Westminster-Abbey;
near the lord Godolphin's tomb.
It may be truly said of Mr. Hill, he was a great and general writer; and
had he been possest of the estate he was intitled to, his liberality had
been no less extensive than his genius. But often do we see misfortune's
clouds obscure the brightest sunshine.
Besides his works which here have been enumerated, there are several
other; particularly two poems, intitled the Creation, and the
Judgment-Day; which were published many years ago.--Another in blank
verse he published in the time of his retreat into Essex; it was called,
Cleon to Lycidas, a Time Piece; the date not marked by the printer.
Some years before his death, he talked of making a collection of his
works for publication; but postponed it for the finishing some pieces,
which he did not live to effect.
Since his death, four volumes of them have been published by
subscription, for his family. He left one Tragedy, never yet acted;
which was wrote originally about 1737, and intitled Cæsar; but since, he
has named it the Roman Revenge:--But as the author was avowedly a great
admirer of Cæsar's character, not in the light he is generally
understood (that of a tyrant) but in one much more favourable, he was
advised by several of the first distinction, both in rank and judgment,
to make such alterations in it as should adapt it more to the general
opinion; and upon that advice he in a manner new wrote the play: But as
most first opinions are not easily eradicated, it has been never able to
make a public trial of the success; which many of the greatest
understanding have pronounced it highly worthy of.--The late lord
Bolingbroke (in a letter wrote to the author) has called it one of the
noblest drama's, that our language, or any age can boast.
These few little speeches are taken from the part of Cæsar.
'Tis the great mind's expected pain, Calphurnia,
To labour for the thankless.--He who seeks
Reward in ruling, makes ambition guilt;
And living for himself disclaims mankind.
And thus speaking to Mark Anthony;
If man were placed above the reach of insult,
To pardon were no virtue.--Think, warm Anthony,
What mercy is--'Tis, daring to be wrong'd,
Yet unprovok'd by pride, persist, in pity.
This again to Calphurnia.
No matter.--Virtue triumphs by neglect:
Vice, while it darkens, lends but foil to brightness:
And juster times, removing slander's veil,
Wrong'd merit after death is help'd to live.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This was sent us by an unknown hand.
[2] This play he made a present of to the patentee, and had several fine
scenes painted for it, at his own expence: He indeed gave all his
pieces to the stage; never taking any benefit, or gratuity from the
managers, as an author--'till his last piece, Merope, was brought on
the stage; when (unhappy gentleman) he was under the necessity of
receiving his profits of the third nights; which 'till then, his
generosity, and spirit, had ever declined.
[3] Under the name of Georgia.
[4] Savage was of great use to Mr. Pope, in helping him to little
stories, and idle tales, of many persons whose names, lives, and
writings, had been long since forgot, had not Mr. Pope mentioned
them in his Dunciad:--This office was too mean for any one but
inconsistent Savage: Who, with a great deal of absurd pride, could
submit to servile offices; and for the vanity of being thought Mr.
Pope's intimate, made no scruple of frequently sacrificing a regard
to sincerity or truth. He had certainly, at one time, considerable
influence over that great poet; but an assuming arrogance at last
tired out Mr. Pope's patience.
[5] A lame come-off.
* * * * *
Mr. LEWIS THEOBALD.
This gentleman was born at Sittingburn in Kent, of which place his
father, Mr. Peter Theobald, was an eminent attorney. His grammatical
learning he received chiefly under the revd. Mr. Ellis, at Isleworth in
Middlesex, and afterwards applied himself to the study and practice of
the law: but finding that study too tedious and irksome for his genius,
he quitted it for the profession of poetry. He engaged in a paper called
the Censor, published in Mill's Weekly Journal; and by delivering his
opinion with two little reserve, concerning some eminent wits, he
exposed himself to their lashes, and resentment. Upon the publication of
Pope's Homer, he praised it in the most extravagant terms of admiration;
but afterwards thought proper to retract his opinion, for reasons we
cannot guess, and abused the very performance he had before
hyperbollically praised.
Mr. Pope at first made Mr. Theobald the hero of his Dunciad, but
afterwards, for reasons best known to himself, he thought proper to
disrobe him of that dignity, and bestow it upon another: with what
propriety we shall not take upon us to determine, but refer the reader
to Mr. Cibber's two letters to Mr. Pope. He was made hero of the poem,
the annotator informs us, because no better was to be had. In the first
book of the Dunciad, Mr. Theobald, or Tibbald, as he is there called, is
thus stigmatised,
--Dullness her image full exprest,
But chief in Tibbald's monster-breeding breast;
Sees Gods with Daemons in strange league engage,
And Earth, and heav'n, and hell her battles wage;
She eyed the bard, where supperless he sate,
And pin'd unconscious of his rising fate;
Studious he sate, with all his books around,
Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!
Plung'd for his sense, but found no bottom there;
Then writ, and flounder'd on, in meer despair.
He roll'd his eyes, that witness'd huge dismay,
Where yet unpawn'd much learned lumber lay.
He describes Mr. Theobald as making the following address to Dulness.
--For thee
Old puns restore, lost blunders nicely seek,
And crucify poor Shakespear once a-week.
For thee I dim these eyes, and stuff this head,
With all such reading as was never read;
For thee, supplying in the worst of days,
Notes to dull books, and prologues to dull plays;
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
And write about it, goddess, and about it;
So spins the silk-worm small its slender store,
And labours till it clouds itself all o'er.
In the year 1726 Mr. Theobald published a piece in octavo, called
Shakespear Restored: Of this it is said, he was so vain as to aver, in
one of Mist's Journals, June the 8th, 'That to expose any errors in it
was impracticable;' and in another, April the 27th, 'That whatever care
might for the future be taken, either by Mr. Pope, or any other
assistants, he would give above five-hundred emendations, that would
escape them all.'
During two whole years, while Mr. Pope was preparing his edition, he
published advertisements, requesting assistance, and promising
satisfaction to any who would contribute to its greater perfection. But
this restorer, who was at that time solliciting favours of him, by
letters, did wholly conceal that he had any such design till after its
publication; which he owned in the Daily Journal of November 26, 1728:
and then an outcry was made, that Mr. Pope had joined with the
bookseller to raise an extravagant subscription; in which he had no
share, of which he had no knowledge, and against which he had publickly
advertised in his own proposals for Homer.
Mr. Theobald was not only thus obnoxious to the resentment of Pope, but
we find him waging war with Mr. Dennis, who treated him with more
roughness, though with less satire. Mr. Theobald in the Censor, Vol. II.
No. XXXIII. calls Mr. Dennis by the name of Furius. 'The modern Furius
(says he) is to be looked upon as more the object of pity, than that
which he daily provokes, laughter, and contempt. Did we really know how
much this poor man suffers by being contradicted, or which is the same
thing in effect, by hearing another praised; we should in compassion
sometimes attend to him with a silent nod, and let him go away with the
triumphs of his ill-nature. Poor Furius, where any of his cotemporaries
are spoken well of, quitting the ground of the present dispute, steps
back a thousand years, to call in the succour of the antients. His very
panegyric is spiteful, and he uses it for the same reason as some ladies
do their commendations of a dead beauty, who never would have had their
good word; but that a living one happened to be mentioned in their
company. His applause is not the tribute of his heart, but the sacrifice
of his revenge.'
Mr. Dennis in resentment of this representation made of him, in his
remarks on Pope's Homer, page 9. 10. thus mentions him. 'There is a
notorious idiot, one HIGHT WHACHUM, who from an Under-spur-leather to
the law, is become an Under strapper to the play-house, who has lately
burlesqued the Metamorphoses of Ovid, by a vile translation, &c. This
fellow is concerned in an impertinent paper called the Censor.' Such was
the language of Mr. Dennis, when enflamed by contradiction.
In the year 1729 Mr. Theobald introduced upon the stage a Tragedy called
the Double Falsehood; the greatest part of which he asserted was
Shakespear's. Mr. Pope insinuated to the town, that it was all, or
certainly the greatest part written, not by Shakespear, but Theobald
himself, and quotes this line,
None but thyself can be thy parallel.
Which he calls a marvellous line of Theobald, 'unless (says he) the play
called the Double Falsehood be (as he would have it thought)
Shakespear's; but whether this line is his or not, he proves Shakespear
to have written as bad.' The arguments which Mr. Theobald uses to prove
the play to be Shakespear's are indeed far from satisfactory;--First,
that the MS. was above sixty years old;--Secondly, that once Mr.
Betterton had it, or he hath heard so;--Thirdly, that some body told him
the author gave it to a bastard daughter of his;--But fourthly, and
above all, that he has a great mind that every thing that is good in our
tongue should be Shakespear's.
This Double Falsehood was vindicated by Mr. Theobald, who was attacked
again in the art of sinking in poetry. Here Mr. Theobald endeavours to
prove false criticisms, want of understanding Shakespear's manner, and
perverse cavelling in Mr. Pope: He justifies himself and the great
dramatic poet, and essays to prove the Tragedy in question to be in
reality Shakespear's, and not unworthy of him. We cannot set this
controversy in a clearer light, than by transcribing a letter subjoined
to the Double Falsehood.
Dear Sir,
You desire to know, why in the general attack which Mr. Pope has lately
made against writers living and dead, he has so often had a fling of
satire at me. I should be very willing to plead guilty to his
indictment, and think as meanly of myself as he can possibly do, were
his quarrel altogether upon a fair, or unbiassed nature. But he is angry
at the man; and as Juvenal says--
Facit indignatio versum.
He has been pleased to reflect on me in a few quotations from a play,
which I had lately the good fortune to usher into the world; I am there
concerned in reputation to enter upon my defence. There are three
passages in his Art of Sinking in Poetry, which he endeavours to bring
into disgrace from the Double Falsehood.
One of these passages alledged by our critical examiner is of that
stamp, which is certain to include me in the class of profound writers.
The place so offensive for its cloudiness, is,
--The obscureness of her birth
Cannot eclipse the lustre of her eyes,
Which make her all one light.
I must own, I think, there needs no great Oedipus to solve the
difficulty of this passage. Nothing has ever been more common, than for
lovers to compare their mistresses eyes to suns and stars. And what does
Henriquez say more here than this, 'That though his mistress be obscure
by her birth; yet her eyes are so refulgent, they set her above that
disadvantage, and make her all over brightness.' I remember another
rapture in Shakespear, upon a painter's drawing a fine lady's picture,
where the thought seems to me every whit as magnified and dark at the
first glance,
--But her eyes--
How could he see to do them! having done one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itself unfinished.--
This passage is taken from the Merchant of Venice, which will appear the
more beautiful, the more it is considered.
Another passage which Mr. Pope is pleased to be merry with, is in a
speech of Violante's;
Wax! render up thy trust.--
This, in his English is open the letter; and he facetiously mingles it
with some pompous instances, most I believe of his own framing; which in
plain terms signify no more than, See, whose there; snuff the candle;
uncork the bottle; chip the bread; to shew how ridiculous actions of no
consequence are, when too much exalted in the diction. This he brings
under a figure, which he calls the Buskin, or Stately. But we'll examine
circumstances fairly, and then we shall see which is most ridiculous;
the phrase, or our sagacious censurer.
Violante is newly debauched by Henriquez, on his solemn promise of
marrying her: She thinks he is returning to his father's court, as he
told her, for a short time; and expects no letter from him. His servant
who brings the letter, contradicts his master's going for court; and
tells her he is gone some two months progress another way, upon a change
of purpose. She who knew what concessions she had made to him, declares
herself by starts, under the greatest agonies; and immediately upon the
servant leaving her, expresses an equal impatience, and fear of the
contents of this unexpected letter.
To hearts like mine, suspence is misery.
Wax! render up thy trust,--Be the contents
Prosperous, or fatal, they are all my due.
Now Mr. Pope shews us his profound judgment in dramatical passions;
thinks a lady in her circumstances cannot without absurdity open a
letter that seems to her as surprize, with any more preparation than the
most unconcerned person alive should a common letter by the penny-post.
I am aware Mr. Pope may reply, his cavil was not against the action
itself of addressing to the wax, but of exalting that action in the
terms. In this point I may fairly shelter myself under the judgment of a
man, whose character in poetry will vie with any rival this age shall
produce.
Mr. Dryden in his Essay on Dramatic Poetry, tells us. 'That when from
the most elevated thoughts of verse, we pass to those which are most
mean, and which are common with the lowest houshold conversation; yet
still there is a choice to be made of the best words, and the least
vulgar (provided they be apt) to express such thoughts. Our language,
says he, is noble, full, and significant; and I know not, why he who is
master of it, may not cloath ordinary things in it as decently as the
Latin, if we use the same diligence in the choice of words.'
I come now to the last quotation, which in our examiner's handling,
falls under this predicament of _being a thought astonishingly out of
the way of common sense._
None but himself can be his parallel.
This, he hints, may seem borrowed from the thought of that master of a
show in Smithfield, who wrote in large letters over the picture of his
Elephant. _This is the greatest Elephant in the world except himself._ I
like the pleasantry of the banter, but have no great doubt of getting
clear from the severity of it. The lines in the play stand thus.
Is there a treachery like this in baseness,
Recorded any where? It is the deepest;
None but itself can be its parallel.
I am not a little surprized, to find that our examiner at last is
dwindled into a word-catcher. Literally speaking, indeed, I agree with
Mr. Pope, that nothing can be the parallel to itself; but allowing a
little for the liberty of expression, does it not plainly imply, that it
is a treachery which stands single for the nature of its baseness, and
has not its parallel on record; and that nothing but a treachery equal
to it in baseness can parallel it? If this were such nonsense as Pope
would willingly have it, it would be a very bad plea for me to alledge,
as the truth is, that the line is in Shakespear's old copy; for I might
have suppressed it. But I hope it is defensible; at least if examples
can keep it in countenance. There is a piece of nonsense of the same
kind in the Amphytrio of Plautus: Sofia having survey'd Mercury from top
to toe, finds him such an exact resemblance of himself, in dress, shape,
and features, that he cries out,
Tam consimil' est, atq; ego.
That is, he is as like me, as I am to myself. Now I humbly conceive, in
strictness of expression a man can no more be like himself, than a thing
its own parallel. But to confine myself to Shakespear. I doubt not but I
can produce some similar passages from him, which literally examined,
are stark nonsense; and yet taken with a candid latitude have never
appeared ridiculous. Mr. Pope would scarce allow one man to say to
another. 'Compare and weigh your mistress with your mistress; and I
grant she is a very fair woman; but compare her with some other woman
that I could name, and the case will be very much altered.' Yet the very
substance of this, is said by Shakespear, in Romeo and Juliet; and Mr.
Pope has not degraded it as any absurdity, or unworthy of the author.
Pho! pho! you saw her fair, none else being by;
HERSELF poiz'd with HERSELF in either eye.
But, &c.
Or, what shall we say of the three following quotations.
ROMEO and JULIET.
--Oh! so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.
WINTER'S TALE.
--For _Cogitation_
Resides not in the man _that does not think._
HAMLET.
--Try what repentance can, what can it not?
Yet what can it, when one _cannot repent._
Who does not see at once, the heaviest foot that ever trod cannot wear
out the everlasting flint? or that he who does not think has no thoughts
in him? or that repentance can avail nothing when a man has not
repentance? yet let these passages appear, with a casting weight of
allowance, and their absurdity will not be so extravagant, as when
examined by the literal touchstone.--
Your's, &c.
LEWIS THEOBALD.
By perusing the above, the reader will be enabled to discern whether Mr.
Pope has wantonly ridiculed the passages in question; or whether Mr.
Theobald has, from a superstitious zeal for the memory of Shakespear,
defended absurdities, and palliated extravagant blunders.
The ingenious Mr. Dodd, who has lately favoured the public with a
judicious collection of the beauties of Shakespear, has quoted a
beautiful stroke of Mr. Theobald's, in his Double Falsehood, upon music.
--Strike up, my masters;
But touch the strings with a religious softness;
Teach sounds to languish thro' the night's dull ear,
'Till Melancholy start from her lazy couch,
And carelessness grow concert to attention.
ACT I. SCENE III.
A gentleman of great judgment happening to commend these lines to Mr.
Theobald, he assured him he wrote them himself, and only them in the
whole play.
Mr. Theobald, besides his edition of all Shakespear's plays, in which he
corrected, with great pains and ingenuity, many faults which had crept
into that great poet's writings, is the author of the following dramatic
pieces.
I. The Persian Princess, or the Royal Villain; a Tragedy, acted at the
Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, printed in the year 1715. The author
observes in his preface, this play was written and acted before he was
full nineteen years old.
II. The Perfidious Brother; a Tragedy acted at the Theatre in Little
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 1716. This play is written on the model of Otway's
Orphan; the scene is in a private family in Brussels.
III. Pan and Syrinx; an Opera of one act, performed on the Theatre in
Little Lincoln's Inn-Fields, 1717.
IV. Decius and Paulina, a Masque; to which is added Musical
Entertainments, as performed at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, in
the Dramatic Opera of Circe.
V. Electra, a Tragedy; translated from the Greek of Sophocles, with
notes, printed in the year 1714, dedicated to Joseph Addison, Esq;
VI. Oedipus King of Thebes; a Tragedy translated from Sophocles, with
notes, translated in the year 1715, dedicated to the earl of Rockingham.
VII. Plutus, or the World's Idol; a Comedy translated from the Greek of
Aristophanes, with notes, printed in the year 1715. The author has to
this Translation prefixed a Discourse, containing some Account of
Aristophanes, and his two Comedies of Plutus and the Clouds.
VIII. The Clouds, a Comedy; translated from Aristophanes, with notes,
printed in the year 1715.
IX. The Rape of Proserpine; a Farce acted at the Theatre-Royal in
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 1727.
X. The Fatal Secret; a Tragedy acted at the Theatre-Royal in
Covent-Garden, 1725.
XI. The Vocal Parts of an Entertainment, called Apollo and Daphne,
or the Burgo Master Trick'd; performed at the Theatre in
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 1726.
XII. Double Falsehood; which we have already mentioned.
Mr. Theobald's other Works are chiefly these.
The Gentleman's Library, containing Rules for Conduct in all Parts of
Life, in 12mo. 1722.
The first Book of Homer's Odyssey translated, with notes, 8vo. 1716.
The Cave of Poverty, written in imitation of Shakespear.
Pindaric Ode on the Union, 1707.
A Poem sacred to the Memory of Queen Anne, Folio 1714.
Translations from Ovid's Metamorphoses.
Lives of Antiochus, and Berenice, from the French, 1717.
* * * * *
The Revd. Dr. SAMUEL CROXALL,
The celebrated author of the Fair Circassian, was son of the revd. Mr.
Samuel Croxall, rector of Hanworth, Middlesex, and vicar of Walton upon
Thames in Surry, in the last of which places our author was born. He
received his early education at Eton school, and from thence was
admitted to St. John's College, Cambridge. Probably while he was at the
university, he became enamoured of Mrs. Anna Maria Mordaunt, who first
inspired his breast with love, and to whom he dedicates the poem of the
Circassian, for which he has been so much distinguished. This dedication
is indeed the characteristic of a youth in love, but then it likewise
proves him altogether unacquainted with the world, and with that
easiness of address which distinguishes a gentleman. A recluse scholar
may be passionately in love, but he discovers it by strains of bombast,
and forced allusions, of which this dedication is a very lively
instance.