readers of poetry; it is thought as unfashionable amongst people of
inferior life, not to be possessed of the poems of Pomfret, as amongst
persons of taste not to have the works of Pope in their libraries. The
subjects upon which Pomfret wrote were popular, his versification is far
from being unmusical, and as there is little force of thinking in his
writings, they are level to the capacities of those who admire them.
Our author was son of the rev. Mr. Pomfret, rector of Luton in
Bedfordshire, and he himself was preferred to the living of Malden in
the same county. He was liberally educated at an eminent grammar school
in the country, from whence he was sent to the university of Cambridge,
but to what college is not certain. There he wrote most of his poetical
pieces, took the degree of master of arts, and very early accomplished
himself in most kinds of polite literature. A gentleman who writes under
the name of Philalethes, and who was an intimate friend of Pomfret's,
has cleared his reputation from the charge of fanaticism, which some
of his malicious enemies brought against him. It was shortly after his
leaving the university, that he was preferred to the living of Malden
abovementioned, and was, says that gentleman, so far from being
tinctured with fanaticism, that I have often heard him express his
abhorrence of the destructive tenets maintained by that people, both
against our religious and civil rights. This imputation it seems was
cast on him by there having been one of his sur-name, though not any way
related to him, a dissenting teacher, and who published some rhimes upon
spiritual subjects, as he called them, and which sufficiently proved him
an enthusiast.
About the year 1703 Mr. Pomfret came up to London, for institution and
induction, into a very considerable living, but was retarded for some
time by a disgust taken by dr. Henry Compton, then bishop of London, at
these four lines, in the close of his poem entitled The Choice.
And as I near approach'd the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
While I did for a better state prepare.
The parenthesis in these verses was so maliciously represented to the
bishop, that his lordship was given to understand, it could bear no
other construction than that Mr. Pomfret preferred a mistress before a
wife; though the words may as well admit of another meaning, and import
no more, than the preference of a single life to marriage; unless the
gentlemen in orders will assert, that an unmarried Clergyman cannot
live without a mistress. But the bishop was soon convinced that this
aspersion against him, was no more than an effort of malice, as Mr.
Pomfret at that time was really married. The opposition which his
enemies made to him, had, in some measure, its effect; for by the
obstructions he met with, he was obliged to stay longer in London than
he intended, and as the Small-pox then raged in the metropolis, he
sickened them, and died in London in the 36th year of his age.
The above-mentioned friend of Mr. Pomfret, has likewise shewn the
ungenerous treatment he met with in regard to his poetical compositions,
in a book entitled Poems by the Earl of Roscommon, and Mr. Duke, printed
1717, in the preface to which, the publisher has peremptorily inserted
the following paragraph. 'In this collection says he, of my lord
Roscommon's poems, care has been taken to insert all I possibly could
procure, that are truly genuine, there having been several things
published under his name, which were written by others, the authors of
which I could set down if it were material. Now, says the gentleman,
this arrogant editor would have been more just, both to the public, and
to the earl of Roscommon's memory, in telling us what things had been
published under his lordship's name by others, than by concealing the
authors of any such gross impositions. Instead of which, he is so much a
stranger to impartiality, that he has been guilty of the very crime he
exclaims against; for he has not only attributed the prospect of death
to the earl of Roscommon, which was wrote by Mr. Pomfret, after the
decease of that lord; but likewise another piece entitled the Prayer of
Jeremy Paraphrased, prophetically representing the passionate grief of
the Jewish people, for the loss of their town, and sanctuary, written by
Mr. Southcot, a gentleman who published it in the year 1717, so that it
is to be hoped, in a future edition of the earl of Roscommon's, and Mr.
Duke's poems, the same care will be taken to do these gentlemen justice,
as to prevent any other person from hereafter injuring the memory of his
lordship.'
Mr. Pomfret published his poems in the year 1690, to which he has
prefixed a very modest and sensible preface, 'I am not so fond of fame,
says he, as to desire it from the injudicious many; nor as so mortified
a temper as not to wish it from the discerning few. 'Tis not the
multitude of applauders, but the good fame of the applauders, which
establishes a valuable reputation.'
His poetical compositions consist chiefly of
1. The Choice, which we shall insert as a specimen.
2. Cruelty and Lust, an Epistolary Essay, founded upon the famous
Story which happened in the reign of King James II. Kirk, who was that
Prince's general against the duke of Monmouth. was sollicited by a
beautiful lady in behalf of her husband, who then lay under sentence of
death. The inhuman general consented to grant his fair petitioner her
request; but at no less a price than that of her innocence. The lady
doated on her husband, and maintained a hard struggle between virtue,
and affection, the latter of which at last prevailed, and she yielded to
his guilty embraces. The next morning Kirk, with unparalleled brutality,
desired the lady to look out at the window of his bedchamber, when she
was struck with the horrid sight of her husband upon a scaffold, ready
to receive the blow of the executioner; and before she could reach the
place where he was, in order to take a last embrace, her husband was no
more.
How far the lady may be justified in this conduct, is not our business
to discuss: if it is called by the name of guilt, none ever had more
pressing motives; and if such a crime could admit of an excuse, it must
be upon such an occasion.
3. Several Epistles to his Friends under affliction.
4. Upon the Divine Attributes.
5. A Prospect of Death.
5. Upon the General Conflagration, and the ensuing Judgment. There were
two pieces of our author's, published after his death by his friend
Philalethes; the first of these entitled Reason, was wrote by him in the
year 1700, when the debates concerning the doctrine of the Trinity were
carried on with so much heat by the Clergy one against another, that the
royal authority was interposed in order to put an end to a controversy,
which could never be settled, and which was pernicious in its
consequences. This is a severe satire, upon one of the parties engaged
in that dispute, but his not inserting it amongst his other poems when
he collected them into a volume, was, on account of his having received
very particular favours, from some of the persons therein mentioned. The
other is entitled Dies Novissima, or the Last Epiphany, a Pindaric Ode
on Christ's second Appearance to judge the World. In this piece the poet
expresses much heart-felt piety: It is animated, if not with a poetical,
at least with so devout a warmth, that as the Guardian has observed of
Divine Poetry, 'We shall find a kind of refuge in our pleasure, and our
diversion will become our safety.'
This is all the account we are favoured with of the life and writings
of Mr. Pomfret: A man not destitute either of erudition or genius, of
unexceptionable morals, though exposed to the malice of antagonists. As
he was a prudent man, and educated to a profession, he was not subject
to the usual necessities of the poets, but his sphere being somewhat
obscure, and his life unactive, there are few incidents recorded
concerning him. If he had not fortune sufficient to render him
conspicuous, he had enough to keep his life innocent, which he seems to
have spent in ease and tranquillity, a situation much more to be envied
than the highest blaze of fame, attended with racking cares, and
innumerable sollicitudes.
The CHOICE.
If Heav'n the grateful liberty would give,
That I might chuse my method how to live.
And all those hours propitious fate should lend,
In blissful ease and satisfaction spend,
Near some fair town I'd have a private seat,
Built uniform; not little, nor too great:
Better if on a rising ground it flood
On this side fields, on that a neighb'ring wood.
It should within no other things contain,
But what were useful, necessary, plain:
Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'r endure
The needless pomp of gawdy furniture.
A little garden, grateful to the eye,
And a cool rivulet run murm'ring by:
On whose delicious banks a slately row
Of shady Lymes or Sycamores should grow.
At th' end of which a silent study plac'd,
Should be with all the noblest authors grac'd.
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines
Immortal wit and solid learning shines.
Sharp Juvenal, and am'rous Ovid too,
Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew:
He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with stronger nature joins,
Must grant his fancy, does the best excel;
His thoughts so tender, and express'd so well.
With all those moderns, men of steady sense,
Esteem'd for learning, and for eloquence.
In some of these, as fancy should advise.
I'd always take my morning exercise:
For sure no minutes bring us more content,
Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent.
I'd have a clear, and competent estate,
That I might live genteely, but not great:
As much as I could moderately spend,
A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune, they should taste of mine;
And all that objects of true pity were
Should be reliev'd with what my wants could spare:
For that, our Maker has too largely giv'n,
Should be return'd, in gratitude to Heav'n,
A frugal plenty mould my table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, dimes fed:
Enough to satisfy, and something more
To feed the stranger, and the neighb'ring poor:
Strong meat indulges vice, and pamp'ring food
Creates diseases, and inflames the blood.
But what's sufficient to make nature strong,
And the bright lamp of life continue long,
I'd freely take, and, as I did possess,
The bounteous author of my plenty bless.
I'd have a little vault, but always stor'd
With the best wines each vintage could afford.
Wine whets the wit, improves its native force,
And gives a pleasant flavour to discourse:
By making all our spirits debonair,
Throws off the lees, the sediment of care,
But as the greatest blessing Heav'n lends,
May be debauch'd and serve ignoble ends:
So, but too oft, the Grape's refreshing juice
Does many mischievous effects produce.
My house should no such rude disorders know,
As from high drinking consequently flow:
Nor would I use what was so kindly giv'n
To the dishonour of indulgent Heav'n.
If any neighbour came, he should be free,
Us'd with respect, and not uneasy be,
In my retreat, or to himself or me.
What freedom, prudence, and right reason give,
All men may with impunity receive:
But the least swerving from their rule's too much;
For what's forbidden us, 'tis death to touch.
That life might be more comfortable yet,
And all my joys resin'd, sincere, and great;
I'd chuse two friends, whose company would be
A great advance to my felicity.
Well born, of humour suited to my own;
Discreet, and men, as well as books, have known.
Brave, gen'rous, witty, and exactly free
From loose behaviour, or formality.
Airy, and prudent, merry, but not light;
Quick in discerning, and in judging right.
Secret they should be, faithful to their trust;
In reas'ning cool, strong, temperate, and just.
Obliging, open, without huffing, brave,
Brisk in gay talking, and in sober, grave.
Close in dispute, but not tenacious; try'd
By solid reason, and let that decide.
Not prone to lust, revenge, or envious hate;
Nor busy medlers with intrigues of state.
Strangers to slander, and sworn foes to spight:
Not quarrelsome, but stout enough to fight.
Loyal, and pious, friends to Cæsar, true
As dying martyrs, to their Maker too.
In their society I could not miss
A permanent, sincere, substantial bliss.
Would bounteous Heav'n once more indulge; I'd chuse
(For who would so much satisfaction, lose,
As witty nymphs in conversation, give)
Near some obliging, modest fair to live;
For there's that sweetness in a female mind,
Which in a man's we cannot hope to find:
That by a secret, but a pow'rful art,
Winds up the springs of life, and does impart
Fresh vital heat, to the transported heart.
I'd have her reason all her passions sway;
Easy in company, in private gay:
Coy to a fop, to the deserving free,
Still constant to herself, and just to me.
A soul she should have, for great actions fit;
Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit:
Courage to look bold danger in the face,
No fear, but only to be proud, or base:
Quick to advise, by an emergence prest,
To give good counsel, or to take the best.
I'd have th' expression of her thoughts be such
She might not seem reserv'd, nor talk too much.
That shew a want of judgment and of sense:
More than enough is but impertinence.
Her conduct regular, her mirth resin'd,
Civil to strangers to her neighbours kind,
Averte to vanity, revenge, and pride,
In all the methods of deceit untry'd.
So faithful to her friend, and good to all,
No censure might upon her actions fall:
Then would e'en envy be compell'd to say,
She goes the least of woman kind astray.
To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire,
Her conversation would new joys inspire;
Give life an edge so keen, no surly care
Would venture to assault my soul, or dare
Near my retreat to hide one secret snare.
But so divine, so noble a repast
I'd seldom, and with moderation taste,
For highest cordials all their virtue lose
By a too frequent, and too bold an use:
And what would cheer the spirit in distress;
Ruins our health, when taken to excess.
I'd be concern'd in no litigious jar,
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.
Whate'er assistance I had pow'r to bring
T' oblige my country, or to serve my King,
Whene'er they call'd, I'd readily afford
My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my sword.
Law suits I'd shun, with as much studious care,
As I would dens where hungry lions are:
And rather put up injuries, than be
A plague to him, who'd be a plague to me.
I value quiet at a price too great,
To give for my revenge so dear a rate:
For what do we by all our bustle gain,
But counterfeit delight, for real pain;
If Heav'n a date of many years would give,
Thus I'd in pleasure, ease, and plenty live.
And as I near approach'd the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
While I did for a better state prepare.
Then I'd not be with any trouble vex'd;
Nor have the evening of my days perplex'd.
But by a silent, and a peaceful death,
Without a sigh, resign my aged breath:
And when committed to the dust, I'd have
Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave.
Then would my exit so propitious be,
All men would wish to live and die, like me.
* * * * *
The LIFE of
Dr. WILLIAM KING.
This ingenious gentleman, was son of Ezekiel King, of London. He
received the rudiments of his education in Westminster-school, under
Dr. Busby, and was removed from thence to Christ's-Church in Oxford, in
Michaelmas term, 1681, when at the age of eighteen. He studied the civil
law, and practiced it at Doctor's Commons, with very great reputation;
but the natural gaiety of his temper, and the love of company, betrayed
him into those pleasures, which were incompatible with his profession.
Our author, by the reputation of his abilities obtained a patron in
the earl of Pembroke, who upon his being appointed lord Lieutenant of
Ireland, press'd him to go over to that kingdom.
Upon Dr. King's arrival in Ireland, his excellency appointed him judge
advocate, sole commissioner of the prizes, and record keeper. There, he
was well received, and countenanced by persons of the most distinguished
rank, and could he have changed his disposition with the climate, had
then an opportunity of making his fortune; but so far was he from
improving this occasion to the purposes of his interest, that he
returned back to England, with no other treasure, than a few merry
Poems, and humorous Essays. He was naturally of a courteous behaviour,
and very obliging: His conversation was chearful, and his wit pleasant
and entertaining. But at length he chiefly subsisted on his fellowship
in Christ-Church College: Before this time, he had published his most
ingenious Poem, called the Art of Cookery, in imitation of Horace's
Art of Poetry, with some Letters to Dr. Lister and others; occasioned
principally by the title of a book, published by the Dr. being the works
of Apicius Coelius, concerning the soups and sauces of the ancients,
with an extract of the greatest curiosities contained in that book.
Amongst his Letters, is one upon the Denti Scalps, or Tooth-picks of the
Antients: Another contains an imitation of Horace: Epist. 5. Book I.
being his invitation of Torquatus to supper. And a third, contains
remarks on lord Grimston's play, called the Lawyer's Fortune; or Love in
a Hollow-Tree.
At his leisure hours he wrote likewise, The Art of Love, an imitation of
Ovid, De Arte Amandi. To which he prefixed an account of Ovid. In
the latter part of his life, about the year 1711, he published an
Historical Account of the Heathen Gods, and Heroes, for the use
of Westminster, and other schools; for the better and more easy
understanding of the Classics. Besides these performances, we likewise
find three numbers of a project, entitled, the Transactioner, or, Useful
Transactions: Containing a great number of small pieces, which it would
be tedious here to enumerate.[1]
We have already observed, that our author while in Ireland, neglected
the best opportunity of encreasing his fortune; and the circumstance
which occasioned it we find to be this: He had contracted an intimacy
which soon grew into friendship, with judge Upton, a man of the same
temper with himself, who delighted in retirement and poetical amusement.
He had a country villa called Mountown, near Dublin, where he and Dr.
King used to retire, and spend most of their time without any regard to
their public offices; and by these means neglecting to pay court to the
lord lieutenant, they fell under his displeasure. These two poetical
companions, indulged no other thoughts but those of living and dying in
their rural retreat. Upon this occasion, Dr. King wrote a Pastoral Poem,
called Mully of Mountown: Mully was the name of a Red-Cow which gave him
milk, whom he made the chief subject of his Poem; which at that time the
critics would have imposed upon the word as a political allegory,
tho' this was a manner of writing, with which the Dr. was totally
unacquainted.
When Dr. King, after his return from Ireland, had retired to live upon
his fellowship at Oxford, he was sollicited by the earl of Anglesey to
come to town, and undertake a cause of his, then before the House of
Lords, (in relation to some cruelties he was accused of using to his
lady) back'd by the violent prosecution of his mother-in-law, the
countess of Dorchester. Upon this occasion the Doctor shook off the
indolence of his nature, and so strenuously engaged in the cause of his
patron, that he gained the reputation of an able lawyer as well as a
poet. He naturally hated business, especially that of an advocate; but
when appointed as a delegate, made a very discerning and able judge, yet
never could bear the fatigue of wrangling. His chief pleasure consisted
in trifles, and he was never happier, than when hid from the world. Few
people pleased him in conversation, and it was a proof of his liking
them, if his behaviour was tolerably agreeable. He was a great
dissembler of his natural temper, which was fallen, morose, and peevish,
where he durst shew it; but he was of a timorous disposition and
the least slight or neglect offered to him, would throw him into a
melancholy despondency. He was apt to say a great many ill-natur'd
things, but was never known to do one: He was made up of tenderness,
pity, and compassion; and of so feminine a disposition, that tears would
fall from his eyes upon the smallest occasion.
As his education had been strict, so he was always of a religious
disposition, and would not enter upon the business of the day, till he
had performed his devotion, and read several portions of scripture out
of the Psalms, the Prophets, and the New-Testament.
It appears from his loose papers, which he calls Adversaria, that he
had been such an arduous student, that before he was eight-years in the
university, he had read over and made reflections on twenty-two thousand
books and manuscripts; a few of which, we shall give as specimen, in
order to let the reader into the humour and taste of our author.
'Diogenes Lærtius, Book I.----Thales, being asked how a man might most
easily brook misfortunes? answered, if he saw his enemies in a worse
condition. It is not agreed, concerning the wisemen; or whether indeed
they were seven.'
'There is a very good letter of Pisistratus to Solon, and of the same
stile and character with those of Phalaris.'
'Solon ordained, that the guardians of orphans should not cohabit with
their mothers: And that no person should be a guardian to those, whose
estate descended to them at the orphan's decease. That no seal-graver
should keep the seal of a ring that was sold: That, if any man put out
the eye of him who had but one, he should lose both, his own: That,
where a man never planted, it should be death to take away: That, it
should be death for a magistrate to be taken in drink. Solon's letters
at the end of his life, in Lærtius, give us a truer Idea of the man,
than all he has written before, and are indeed very fine: Solon's to
Cræsus are very genteel; and Pitaccus's on the other side, are rude and
philosophical; However, both shew Cræsus to have been a very good man.
These epistles give a further reason to believe, that the others were
written by Phalaris. There is a letter from Cleobulus to Solon, to
invite him to Lindus.'
'Bion used to say, it was more easy to determine differences, between
enemies than friends; for that of two friends, one would become an
enemy; but of two enemies, one would become a friend.'
'Anacharsis has an epistle to Cræsus, to thank him for his invitation;
and Periander one to all the wise men, to invite them to Corinth to him,
after their return from Lydia. Epimenides has an epistle to Solon, to
invite him to Crete, under the tyranny of Pisistratus.'
'Epimenides often pretended that he rose from death to life.'
The above notes are sufficient to shew that he read the ancients with
attention, and knew how to select the most curious passages, and most
deserving the reader's observation.
About the year 1711 the Dr. published a piece called the British
Palladium, or a welcome of lord, Bolingbroke from France. Soon after
this, Dr. Swift, Dr. Friend, Mr. Prior, with some others of lord
Bolingbroke's adherents, paid a visit to Dr. King, and brought along
with them, the key of the Gazetteer's office, together with another key
for the use of the paper office. The day following this friendly visit,
the Dr. entered upon his new post; and two or three days after waited on
his benefactor lord Bolingbroke, then secretary of state.
The author of the Doctor's life, published by Curl, has related an
instance of inhumanity in alderman Barber, towards Dr. King. This
magistrate was then printer of the Gazette, and was so cruel as to
oblige the Dr. to sit up till three or four o'clock in the morning,
upon those days the Gazette was published, to correct the errors of the
press; which was not the business of the author, but a corrector, who is
kept for that purpose in every printing-office of any consequence. This
slavery the Dr. was not able to bear, and therefore quitted the office.
The alderman's severity was the more unwarrantable, as the Dr. had been
very kind in obliging him, by writing Examiners, and some other papers,
gratis, which were of advantage to him as a printer. Those writings at
that juncture made him known to the ministry, who afterwards employed
him in a state paper called the Gazettee.