Pilkington to send her some money to carry her to England; who, in hopes
of getting rid of her, sent her nine pounds. She was the more desirous
to leave Ireland, as she found her character sinking every day with the
public. When she was on board the yacht, a gentleman of figure in the
gay world took an opportunity of making love to her, which she rejected
with some indignation. 'Had I (said she) accepted the offers he made me,
poverty had never approached me. I dined with him at Parkgate, and I
hope virtue will be rewarded; for though I had but five guineas in the
world to carry me to London, I yet possessed chastity enough to refuse
fifty for a night's lodging, and that too from a handsome well-bred man.
I shall scarcely ever forget his words to me, as they seemed almost
prophetic. "Well, madam, said he, you do not know London; you will be
undone there." "Why, sir, said I, I hope you don't imagine I will go
into a bad course of life?" "No, madam, said he, but I think you will
sit in your chamber and starve;" which, upon my word, I have been pretty
near doing; and, but that the Almighty raised me one worthy friend, good
old Mr. Cibber, to whose humanity I am indebted, under God, both for
liberty and life, I had been quite lost.'
When Mrs. Pilkington arrived in London, her conduct was the reverse of
what prudence would have dictated. She wanted to get into favour with
the great, and, for that purpose, took a lodging in St. James's Street,
at a guinea a week; upon no other prospect of living, than what might
arise from some poems she intended to publish by subscription. In this
place she attracted the notice of the company frequenting White's
Chocolate-House; and her story, by means of Mr. Cibber, was made known
to persons of the first distinction, who, upon his recommendation, were
kind to her.
Her acquaintance with Mr. Cibber began by a present she made him of The
Trial of Constancy, a poem of hers, which Mr. Dodsley published. Mr.
Cibber, upon this, visited her, and, ever after, with the most unwearied
zeal, promoted her interest. The reader cannot expect that we should
swell this volume by a minute relation of all the incidents which
happened to her, while she continued a poetical mendicant. She has not,
without pride, related all the little tattle which passed between her
and persons of distinction, who, through the abundance of their
idleness, thought proper to trifle an hour with her.
Her virtue seems now to have been in a declining state; at least, her
behaviour was such, that a man, must have extraordinary faith, who can
think her innocent. She has told us, in the second volume of her
Memoirs, that she received from a noble person a present of fifty
pounds. This, she says, was the ordeal, or fiery trial; youth, beauty,
nobility of birth, attacking at once the most desolate person in the
world. However, we find her soon after this thrown into great distress,
and making various applications to persons of distinction for
subscriptions to her poems. Such as favoured her by subscribing, she has
repaid with most lavish encomiums, and those that withheld that proof of
their bounty, she has sacrificed to her resentment, by exhibiting them
in the most hideous light her imagination could form.
From the general account of her characters, this observation results,
That such as she has stigmatized for want of charity, ought rather to be
censured for want of decency. There might be many reasons, why a person
benevolent in his nature, might yet refuse to subscribe to her; but, in
general, such as refused, did it (as she says) in a rude manner, and she
was more piqued at their deficiency in complaisance to her, than their
want of generosity. Complaisance is easily shewn; it may be done without
expence; it often procures admirers, and can never make an enemy. On the
other hand, benevolence itself, accompanied with a bad grace, may lay us
under obligations, but can never command our affection. It is said of
King Charles I. that he bestowed his bounty with so bad a grace, that he
disobliged more by giving, than his son by refusing; and we have heard
of a gentleman of great parts, who went to Newgate with a greater
satisfaction, as the judge who committed him accompanied the sentence
with an apology and a compliment, than he received from his releasment
by another, who, in extending the King's mercy to him, allayed the Royal
clemency by severe invectives against the gentleman's conduct.
We must avoid entering into a detail of the many addresses,
disappointments and encouragements, which she met with in her attendance
upon the great: her characters are naturally, sometimes justly, and
often strikingly, exhibited. The incidents of her life while she
remained in London were not very important, though she has related them
with all the advantage they can admit of. They are such as commonly
happen to poets in distress, though it does not often fall out, that the
insolence of wealth meets with such a bold return as this lady has given
it. There is a spirit of keenness, and freedom runs through her book,
she spares no man because he is great by his station, or famous by his
abilities. Some knowledge of the world may be gained from reading her
Memoirs; the different humours of mankind she has shewn to the life, and
whatever was ridiculous in the characters she met with, is exposed in
very lively terms.
The next scene which opens in Mrs. Pilkington's life, is the prison of
the Marshalsea. The horrors and miseries of this jail she has
pathetically described, in such a manner as should affect the heart of
every rigid creditor. In favour of her fellow-prisoners, she wrote a
very moving memorial, which, we are told, excited the legislative power
to grant an Act of Grace for them. After our poetess had remained nine
weeks in this prison, she was at last released by the goodness of Mr.
Cibber, from whose representation of her distress, no less than sixteen
dukes contributed a guinea apiece towards her enlargement. When this
news was brought her, she fainted away with excess of joy. Some time
after she had tasted liberty, she began to be weary of that continued
attendance upon the great; and therefore was resolved, if ever she was
again favoured with a competent sum, to turn it into trade, and quit the
precarious life of a poetical mendicant. Mr. Cibber had five guineas in
reserve for her, which, with ten more she received from the duke of
Marlborough, enabled her to take a shop in St. James's Street, which she
filled with pamphlets and prints, as being a business better suited to
her taste and abilities, than any other. Her adventures, while she
remained a shopkeeper, are not extremely important. She has neglected to
inform us how long she continued behind the counter, but has told us,
however, that by the liberality of her friends, and the bounty of her
subscribers, she was set above want, and that the autumn of her days was
like to be spent in peace and serenity.
But whatever were her prospects, she lived not long to enjoy the
comforts of competence, for on the 29th of August, 1750, a few years
after the publication of her second volume, she died at Dublin, in the
thirty ninth year of her age.
Considered as a writer, she holds no mean rank. She was the author of
The Turkish Court, or The London Apprentice, acted at the theatre in
Caple-street, Dublin, 1748, but never printed. This piece was poorly
performed, otherwise it promised to have given great satisfaction. The
first act of her tragedy of the Roman Father, is no ill specimen of her
talents that way, and throughout her Memoirs there are scattered many
beautiful little pieces, written with a true spirit of poetry, though
under all the disadvantages that wit can suffer. Her memory seems to
have been amazingly great, of which her being able to repeat almost all
Shakespear is an astonishing instance.
One of the prettiest of her poetical performances, is the following
Address to the reverend Dr. Hales, with whom she became acquainted at
the house of captain Mead, near Hampton-Court.
To the Revd. Dr. HALES.
Hail, holy sage! whose comprehensive mind,
Not to this narrow spot of earth confin'd,
Thro' num'rous worlds can nature's laws explore,
Where none but Newton ever trod before;
And, guided by philosophy divine,
See thro' his works th'Almighty Maker shine:
Whether you trace him thro' yon rolling spheres,
Where, crown'd with boundless glory, he appears;
Or in the orient sun's resplendent rays,
His setting lustre, or his noon-tide blaze,
New wonders still thy curious search attend,
Begun on earth, in highest Heav'n to end.
O! while thou dost those God-like works pursue,
What thanks, from human-kind to thee are due!
Whose error, doubt, and darkness, you remove,
And charm down knowledge from her throne above.
Nature to thee her choicest secrets yields,
Unlocks her springs, and opens all her fields;
Shews the rich treasure that her breast contains,
In azure fountains, or enamell'd plains;
Each healing stream, each plant of virtuous use,
To thee their medicinal pow'rs produce.
Pining disease and anguish wing their flight,
And rosy health renews us to delight.
When you, with art, the animal dissect,
And, with the microscopic aid, inspect
[Transcriber's note: 'microsopic' in
original]
Where, from the heart, unnumbered rivers glide,
And faithful back return their purple tide;
How fine the mechanism, by thee display'd!
How wonderful is ev'ry creature made!
Vessels, too small for sight, the fluids strain,
Concoct, digest, assimilate, sustain;
In deep attention, and surprize, we gaze,
And to life's author, raptur'd, pour out praise.
What beauties dost thou open to the sight,
Untwisting all the golden threads of light!
Each parent colour tracing to its source,
Distinct they live, obedient to thy force!
Nought from thy penetration is conceal'd,
And light, himself, shines to thy soul reveal'd.
So when the sacred writings you display,
And on the mental eye shed purer day;
In radiant colours truth array'd we see,
Confess her charms, and guided up by thee;
Soaring sublime, on contemplation's wings,
The fountain seek, whence truth eternal springs.
Fain would I wake the consecrated lyre,
And sing the sentiments thou didst inspire!
But find my strength unequal to a theme,
Which asks a Milton's, or a Seraph's flame!
If, thro' weak words, one ray of reason shine,
Thine was the thought, the errors only mine.
Yet may these numbers to thy soul impart
The humble incense of a grateful heart.
Trifles, with God himself, acceptance find,
If offer'd with sincerity of mind;
Then, like the Deity, indulgence shew,
Thou, most like him, of all his works below.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] An extravagant compliment; for Mrs. Pilkington was far from being a
beauty.
[2] Of which, she says, she received only 15 l.
* * * * *
Mr. THOMAS SOUTHERN.
This eminent poet was born in Dublin, on the year of the Restoration of
Charles the IId. and received his early education at the university
there. In the 18th year of his age, he quitted Ireland, and as his
intention was to pursue a lucrative profession, he entered himself in
the Middle-Temple. But the natural vivacity of his mind overcoming
considerations of advantage, he quitted that state of life, and entered
into the more agreeable service of the Muses[1].
The first dramatic performance of Mr. Southern, his Persian Prince, or
Loyal Brother, was acted in the year 1682. The story is taken from
Thamas Prince of Persia, a Novel; and the scene is laid in Ispahan in
Persia. This play was introduced at a time when the Tory interest was
triumphant in England, and the character of the Loyal brother was no
doubt intended to compliment James Duke of York, who afterwards rewarded
the poet for his service. To this Tragedy Mr. Dryden wrote the Prologue
and Epilogue, which furnished Mr. Southern with an opportunity of saying
in his dedication, 'That the Laureat's own pen secured me, maintaining
the out-works, while I lay safe entrenched within his lines; and malice,
ill-nature, and censure were forced to grin at a distance.'
The Prologue is a continued invective against the Whigs, and whether
considered as a party libel, or an induction to a new play, is in every
respect unworthy of the great hand that wrote it. His next play was a
Comedy, called the Disappointment, or the Mother in Fashion, performed
in the year 1684.--After the accession of king James the IId to the
throne, when the duke of Monmouth made an unfortunate attempt upon his
uncle's crown, Mr. Southern went into the army, in the regiment of foot
raised by the lord Ferrers, afterwards commanded by the duke of Berwick;
and he had three commissions, viz. ensign, lieutenant, and captain,
under King James, in that regiment.
During the reign of this prince, in the year before the Revolution, he
wrote a Tragedy called the Spartan Dame, which however was not acted
till the year 1721. The subject is taken from the Life of Agis in
Plutarch, where the character of Chelonis, between the duties of a wife
and daughter was thought to have a near resemblance to that of King
William's Queen Mary. 'I began this play, says Mr. Southern, a year
before the Revolution, and near four acts written without any view. Many
things interfering with those times, I laid by what I had written for
seventeen years: I shewed it then to the late duke of Devonshire, who
was in every regard a judge; he told me he saw no reason why it might
not have been acted the year of the Revolution: I then finished it, and
as I thought cut out the exceptionable parts, but could not get it
acted, not being able to persuade myself to the cutting off those limbs,
which I thought essential to the strength and life of it. But since I
found it must pine in obscurity without it, I consented to the
operation, and after the amputation of every line, very near to the
number of 400, it stands on its own legs still, and by the favour of the
town, and indulging assistance of friends, has come successfully forward
on the stage.' This play was inimitably acted. Mr. Booth, Mr. Wilks, Mr.
Cibber, Mr. Mills, sen. Mrs. Oldfield, and Mrs. Porter, all performed in
it, in their heighth of reputation, and the full vigour of their powers.
Mr. Southern acknowledges in his preface to this play, that the last
scene of the third Act, was almost all written by the honourable John
Stafford, father to the earl of Stafford. Mr. Southern has likewise
acknowledged, that he received from the bookseller, as a price for this
play, 150 l. which at that time was very extraordinary. He was the first
who raised the advantage of play writing to a second and third night,
which Mr. Pope mentions in the following manner,
--Southern born to raise,
The price of Prologues and of Plays.
The reputation which Mr. Dryden gained by the many Prologues he wrote,
induced the players to be sollicitous to have one of his to speak, which
were generally well received by the public. Mr. Dryden's price for a
Prologue had usually been five guineas, with which sum Mr. Southern
presented him when he received from him a Prologue for one of his plays.
Mr. Dryden returned the money, and said to him; 'Young man this is too
little, I must have ten guineas.' Mr. Southern on this observ'd, that
his usual price was five guineas. Yes answered Dryden, it has been so,
but the players have hitherto had my labours too cheap; for the future I
must have ten guineas [2].
Mr. Southern was industrious to draw all imaginable profits from his
poetical labours. Mr. Dryden once took occasion to ask him how much he
got by one of his plays; to which he answered, that he was really
ashamed to inform him. But Mr. Dryden being a little importunate to
know, he plainly told him, that by his last play he cleared seven
hundred pounds; which appeared astonishing to Mr. Dryden, as he himself
had never been able to acquire more than one hundred by any of his most
successful pieces. The secret is, Mr. Southern was not beneath the
drudgery of sollicitation, and often sold his tickets at a very high
price, by making applications to persons of distinction: a degree of
servility which perhaps Mr. Dryden thought was much beneath the dignity
of a poet; and too much in the character of an under-player.
That Mr. Dryden entertained a very high opinion of our author's
abilities, appears from his many expressions of kindness towards him. He
has prefixed a copy of verses to a Comedy of his, called the Wife's
Excuse, acted in the year 1692, with very indifferent success: Of this
Comedy, Mr. Dryden had so high an opinion, that he bequeathed to our
poet, the care of writing half the last act of his Tragedy of Cleomenes,
'Which, says Mr. Southern, when it comes into the world will appear to
be so considerable a trust, that all the town will pardon me for
defending this play, that preferred me to it.'
Our author continued from time to time to entertain the public with his
dramatic pieces, the greatest part of which met with the success they
deserved. The night on which his Innocent Adultery was first acted,
which is perhaps the most moving play in any language; a gentleman took
occasion to ask Mr. Dryden, what was his opinion of Southern's genius?
to which that great poet replied, 'That he thought him such another poet
as Otway.' When this reply was communicated to Mr. Southern, he
considered it as a very great compliment, having no ambition to be
thought a more considerable poet than Otway was.
Of our author's Comedies, none are in possession of the stage, nor
perhaps deserve to be so; for in that province he is less excellent than
in Tragedy. The present Laureat, who is perhaps one of the best judges
of Comedy now living, being asked his opinion by a gentleman, of
Southern's comic dialogue, answered, That it might be denominated
Whip-Syllabub, that is, flashy and light, but indurable; and as it is
without the Sal Atticum of wit, can never much delight the intelligent
part of the audience.
The most finished, and the most pathetic of Mr. Southern's plays, in the
opinion of the critics, is his Oroonoko, or the Royal Slave. This drama
is built upon a true story, related by Mrs. Behn, in a Novel; and has so
much the greater influence on the audience, as they are sensible that
the representation is no fiction. In this piece, Mr. Southern has
touched the tender passions with so much skill, that it will perhaps be
injurious to his memory to say of him, that he is second to Otway.
Besides the tender and delicate strokes of passion, there are many
shining and manly sentiments in Oroonoko; and one of the greatest
genius's of the present age, has often observed, that in the most
celebrated play of Shakespear, so many striking thoughts, and such a
glow of animated poetry cannot be furnished. This play is so often
acted, and admired, that any illustration of its beauties here, would be
entirely superfluous. His play of The Fatal Marriage, or The Innocent
Adultery, met with deserved success; the affecting incidents, and
interesting tale in the tragic part, sufficiently compensate for the
low, trifling, comic part; and when the character of Isabella is acted,
as we have seen it, by Mrs. Porter, and Mrs. Woffington, the ladies
seldom fail to sympathise in grief.
Mr. Southern died on the 26th of May, in the year 1746, in the 86th year
of his age; the latter part of which he spent in a peaceful serenity,
having by his commission as a soldier, and the profits of his dramatic
works, acquired a handsome fortune; and being an exact oeconomist, he
improved what fortune he gained, to the best advantage: He enjoyed the
longest life of all our poets, and died the richest of them, a very few
excepted.
A gentleman whose authority we have already quoted, had likewise
informed us, that Mr. Southern lived for the last ten years of his life
in Westminster, and attended very constant at divine service in the
Abbey, being particularly fond of church music. He never staid within
doors while in health, two days together, having such a circle of
acquaintance of the best rank, that he constantly dined with one or
other, by a kind of rotation.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Jacob.
[2] From the information of a gentleman personally acquainted
with Mr. Southern, who desires to have his name conceal'd.
* * * * *
The Revd. Mr. JAMES MILLER.
This gentleman was born in the year 1703. He was the son of a clergyman,
who possessed two considerable livings in Dorsetshire[1]. He received
his education at Wadham-College in Oxford, and while he was resident in
that university he composed part of his famous Comedy called the Humours
of Oxford, acted in the year 1729, by the particular recommendation of
Mrs. Oldfield.
This piece, as it was a lively representation of the follies and vices
of the students of that place, procured the author many enemies.
Mr. Miller was designed by his relations to be bred to business, which
he declined, not being able to endure the servile drudgery it demanded.
He no sooner quitted the university than he entered into holy orders,
and was immediately preferred to be lecturer in Trinity-College in
Conduit-Street, and preacher of Roehampton-Chapel. These livings were
too inconsiderable to afford a genteel subsistence, and therefore it may
be supposed he had recourse to dramatic writing to encrease his
finances. This kind of composition, however, being reckoned by some very
foreign to his profession, if not inconsistent with it, was thought to
have retarded his preferment in the church. Mr. Miller was likewise
attached to the High-Church interest, a circumstance in the times in
which he lived, not very favourable to preferment. He was so honest
however in these principles, that upon a large offer being made him by
the agents for the ministry in the time of a general opposition, he had
virtue sufficient to withstand the temptation, though his circumstances
at that time were far from being easy. Mr. Miller often confessed to
some of his friends, that this was the fiery trial of his constancy. He
had received by his wife a very genteel fortune, and a tenderness for
her had almost overcome his resolutions; but he recovered again to his
former firmness, when upon hinting to his wife, the terms upon which
preferment might be procured, she rejected them with indignation; and he
became ashamed of his own wavering. This was an instance of honour, few
of which are to be met with in the Lives of the Poets, who have been too
generally of a time-serving temper, and too pliant to all the follies
and vices of their age. But though Mr. Miller would not purchase
preferment upon the terms of writing for the ministry, he was content to
stipulate, never to write against them, which proposal they rejected in
their turn.
About a year before Mr. Miller's death, which happened in 1743, he was
presented by Mr. Cary of Dorsetshire, to the profitable living of Upsun,
his father had before possess'd, but which this worthy man lived not
long to enjoy; nor had he ever an opportunity of making that provision
for his family he so much sollicited; and which he even disdained to do
at the expence of his honour.
Mr. Miller's dramatic works are,
I. Humours of Oxford, which we have already mentioned.
II. The Mother-in-Law, or the Doctor the Disease; a Comedy, 1733.
III. The Man of Taste, a Comedy; acted in the year 1736, which had a run
of 30 nights[2].
IV. Universal Passion, a Comedy, 1736.
V. Art and Nature, a Comedy, 1737.
VI. The Coffee-House, a Farce, 1737.
VII. An Hospital for Fools, a Farce, 1739.
VIII. The Picture, or Cuckold in Conceit.
IX. Mahomet the Impostor, a Tragedy; during the run of this play the
author died.
X. Joseph and his Brethren; a sacred Drama.
Mr. Miller was author of many occasional pieces in poetry, of which his
Harlequin Horace is the most considerable. This Satire is dedicated to
Mr. Rich, the present manager of Covent-Garden Theatre, in which with an
ironical severity he lashes that gentleman, in consequence of some
offence Mr. Rich had given him.
Mr. Miller likewise published a volume of Sermons, all written with a
distinguished air of piety, and a becoming zeal for the interest of true
religion; and was principally concerned in the translation of Moliere's
comedies, published by Watts.
Our author left behind him a son, whose profession is that of a sea
surgeon. Proposals for publishing his Poems have been inserted in the
Gentleman's Magazine, with a specimen, which does him honour. The
profits of this subscription, are to be appropriated to his mother, whom
he chiefly supported, an amiable instance of filial piety.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The account of this gentleman is taken from the information of his
widow.
[2] These two pieces were brought on the stage, without the author's
name being known; which, probably, not a little contributed to their
success; the care of the rehearsals being left to Mr. Theo. Cibber,
who played the characters of the Man of Taste, and Squire
Headpiece.
* * * * *
Mr. NICHOLAS AMHURST.