dedicated to the earl of Warwick; this play is justly in posession of
the stage likewise. Mr. Edmund Smith, of Christ's-Church, author of
Phædra and Hyppolitus, designed writing a Tragedy on this subject; and
at his death left some loose hints of sentiments, and short sketches of
scenes. From the last of these, Mr. Rowe acknowledges he borrowed
part of one, and inserted it in his third act, viz. that between lord
Guilford, and lady Jane. It is not much to be regretted, that Mr. Smith
did not live to finish this, since it fell into the hands of one so much
above him, as a dramatist; for if we may judge of Mr. Smith's abilities
of writing for the stage, by his Phædra and Hyppolitus, it would not
have been so well executed as by Rowe. Phædra and Hyppolitus, is a play
without passion, though of inimitable versification; and in the words
of a living poet, we may say of it, that not the character, but poet
speaks.
It may be justly said of all Rowe's Tragedies, that never poet painted
virtue, religion, and all the relative and social duties of life, in a
more alluring dress, on the stage; nor were ever vice or impiety, better
exposed to contempt and abhorrence.
The same principles of liberty he had early imbibed himself, seemed a
part of his constitution, and appeared in every thing he wrote; and he
took all occasions that fell in his way, to make his talents subservient
to them: His Muse was so religiously chaste, that I do not remember,
says Dr. Welwood, one word in any of his plays or writings, that might
admit of a double meaning in any point of decency, or morals. There is
nothing to be found in them, to flatter a depraved populace, or humour a
fashionable folly.
Mr. Rowe's Plays were written from the heart. He practised the virtue he
admired, and he never, in his gayest moments, suffered himself to talk
loosely or lightly upon religious or moral subjects; or to turn any
thing sacred, or which good men reverenced as such, into ridicule.
Our author wrote a comedy of three acts, called the Biter. It was
performed at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields; but without success,
for Rowe's genius did not lie towards Comedy.--In a conversation he had
with Mr. Pope, that great poet advised him to rescue the queen of Scots,
from the hands of Banks; and to make that lady to shine on the stage,
with a lustre equal to her character. Mr. Rowe observed in answer to
this, that he was a great admirer of queen Elizabeth; and as he
could not well plan a play upon the queen of Scots's story, without
introducing his favourite princess, who in that particular makes but an
indifferent figure, he chose to decline it: Besides, he knew that if he
favoured the northern lady, there was a strong party concerned to crush
it; and if he should make her appear less great than she was, and throw
a shade over her real endowments, he should violate truth, and incur
the displeasure of a faction, which though by far the minority, he knew
would be yet too powerful for a poet to combat with.
The late duke of Queensberry, when secretary of state, made Mr. Rowe
secretary for public affairs; and when that nobleman came to know him
well, he was never more delighted than when in his company: After the
duke's death, all avenues were stopt to his preferment; and during the
rest of queen Anne's reign, he passed his time with the Muses and his
books, and sometimes with the conversation of his friends.
While Mr. Rowe was thus without a patron, he went one day to pay his
court to the earl of Oxford, lord high treasurer of England, then at the
head of the Tory faction, who asked him if he understood Spanish well?
He answered no: but imagining that his lordship might intend to send him
into Spain on some honourable commission, he presently added, that in
a short time he did not doubt but he should presently be able, both to
understand it, and speak it. The earl approving of what he said, Mr.
Rowe took his leave, and immediately retired out of town to a private
country farm; where, within a few months, he learned the Spanish
tongue, and then waited again on the earl to give him an account of his
diligence. His lordship asking him, if he was sure he understood it
thoroughly, and Mr. Rowe answering in the affirmative, the earl burst
into an exclamation; 'How happy are you Mr. Rowe, that you can enjoy the
pleasure of reading, and understanding Don Quixote in the original!'
This wanton cruelty inflicted by his lordship, of raising expectations
in the mind, that he never intended to gratify, needs only be told to
excite indignation. Upon the accession of king George the 1st. to the
throne, Mr. Rowe was made Poet-Laureat, and one of the surveyors of the
customs, in the port of London. The prince of Wales conferred on him,
the place of clerk of his council, and the lord chancellor Parker, made
him his secretary for the presentations, the very day he received the
seals, and without his asking it.
He was twice married, first to a daughter of Mr. auditor Parsons;
and afterwards to a daughter of Mr. Devenish of a good family in
Dorsetshire. By his first wife, he had a son, and by his second a
daughter.
Mr. Rowe died the 6th of December 1718, in the 45th year of his age,
like a christian and a philosopher, and with an unfeigned resignation
to the will of God: He preferred an evenness of temper to the last, and
took leave of his wife, and friends, immediately before his last agony,
with the same tranquility of mind, as if he had been taking but a short
journey.
He was interred in Westminster-Abbey, over against Chaucer; his body
being attended with a vast number of friends, and the dean and chapter
officiating at the funeral. A tomb was afterwards erected to his memory,
by his wife, for which Mr. Pope wrote an epitaph, which we shall here
insert; not one word of which is hyperbolical, or more than he deserves.
Epitaph on ROWE, by Mr. POPE.
Thy reliques, Rowe! to this sad shrine we trust,
And near thy Shakespear place thy honour'd bust,
Oh next him skill'd, to draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt passion more sincere:
To nobler sentiment to fire the brave.
For never Briton more disdain'd a slave!
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest,
Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest!
And blest, that timely from our scene remov'd
Thy soul enjoys the liberty it lov'd.
To these, so mourn'd in death, so lov'd in life!
The childless parent and the widow'd wife
With tears inscribes this monumental stone,
That holds their ashes and expects her own
Mr. Rowe, as to his person, was graceful and well made, his face regular
and of a manly beauty; he had a quick, and fruitful invention, a deep
penetration, and a large compass of thought, with a singular dexterity,
and easiness in communicating his opinions. He was master of most parts
of polite learning, especially the Classic Authors, both Greek and
Latin; he understood the French, Italian and Spanish languages. He had
likewise read most of the Greek and Roman histories in their original
languages; and most that are written in English, French, Italian and
Spanish: He had a good taste in philosophy, and having a firm
impression of religion upon his mind, he took delight in divinity, and
ecclesiastical history, in both which he made great advances in the
times he retired to the country, which were frequent. He expressed upon
all occasions, his full perswasion of the truth of revealed religion;
and being a sincere member of the established church himself, he
pitied, but condemned not, those who departed from him; he abhorred the
principle of persecuting men on account of religious opinions, and being
strict in his own, he took it not upon him to censure those of another
persuasion. His conversation was pleasant, witty, and learned, without
the least tincture of affectation or pedantry; and his inimitable manner
of diverting, or enlivening the company, made it impossible for any one
to be out of humour when he was in it: Envy and detraction, seemed to be
entirely foreign to his constitution; and whatever provocation he met
with at any time, he passed them over, without the least thought of
resentment or revenge. There were not wanting some malevolent people,
and some pretenders to poetry too, that would sometimes bark at his best
performances; but he was too much conscious of his own genius, and had
so much good-nature as to forgive them, nor could however be tempted to
return them an answer.'
This is the amiable character of Mr. Rowe, drawn by Mr. Welwood, to
which we shall add the words of Mr. Pope, in a letter to Edward Blount,
Esq; dated February the 10th, 1715.
'There was a vivacity and gaiety of disposition almost peculiar to
Mr. Rowe, which made it impossible to part with him, without that
uneasiness, which generally succeeds all our pleasures.'
It would perhaps be injurious to the memory of Rowe, to dismiss his
life, without taking notice of his translations of Lucan, and Quillet's
Callipædia; the versification in both is musical, and well adapted to
the subject; nor is there any reason to doubt but that the true meaning
of the original, is faithfully preserved throughout the whole. These
translations, however, with Mr. Rowe's Occasional Poems, and Birth-Day
Odes, are but little read, and he is only distinguished as a dramatist;
for which we shall not pretend to assign a reason; but we may observe,
that a Muse capable of producing so many excellent dramatic pieces,
cannot be supposed to have executed any plan indifferently; however, it
may charm a reader less than that kind of composition, which is set off
on the Theatre, with so many advantages.
He published likewise an edition of the works of Shakespear, and
prefixed the life of that great man, from materials which he had been
industrious to collect, in the county where Shakespear was born, and to
which, after he had filled the world with admiration of his genius, he
retired.
We deem it unnecessary to give any specimen of Mr. Rowe's poetry; the
most celebrated speeches in his plays, which are beautifully harmonious;
are repeated by every body who reads poetry, or attends plays; and to
suppose the reader ignorant of them, would be to degrade him from that
rank of intelligence, without which he can be little illuminated by
perusing the _Lives of the Poets_.
[Footnote 1: Welwood's preface to Rowe's Lucan]
* * * * *
JOHN SHEFFIELD, Duke of BUCKINGHAM.
This nobleman, who made a very great figure in the last age, as an
author, a statesman, and a soldier; was born about the year 1650. He
lost his father when he was about nine years of age, and his mother
soon after marrying lord Ossulton; the care of his education was left
entirely to a governor, who though a man of letters, did not much
improve him in his studies [1]. Having parted with his governor, with
whom he travelled into France; he soon found by conversing with men of
genius, that he was much deficient in many parts of literature, and that
while he acquired the graces of a gentleman, he was yet wanting in those
higher excellencies; without which politeness makes but an indifferent
figure, and can never raise a man to eminence.
He possessed an ample fortune, but for a while laid a restraint upon his
appetites, and passions, and dedicated for some time a certain number of
hours every day to his studies, by which means he acquired a degree of
learning, that entitled him to the character of a fine scholar. But not
content with that acquisition, our noble author extended his views yet
farther, and restless in the pursuit of distinction, we find him at a
very early age entering himself a volunteer in the second Dutch war; and
accordingly was in that famous naval engagement, where the duke of York
commanded as admiral, on which occasion his lordship behaved himself so
gallantly, that he was appointed commander of the royal Katherine, a
second rate man of war.
His lordship in his own Memoirs, tells us, that when he entered himself
a volunteer under his royal highness the duke of York, he was then
deeply engaged, and under the soft influence of love: He says, he never
shall forget the tenderness of parting from his mistress. On this
account double honour is due to him:--To enter the bustle of war,
without any other call, but that of honour, at an age when most young
noblemen are under the tuition of a dancing master, argued a generous
intrepid nature; but to leave the arms of his mistress, to tear himself
from her he doated on, in order to serve his country, carries in it yet
a higher degree of merit, and ought to put all young men of fortune to
the blush, who would rather meanly riot in luxurious ease at home, than
do honour to themselves and their country, by endeavouring to serve it.
His lordship acknowledges in the above-mentioned Memoirs, that the duke
of York did wonders in the engagement; and that he was as intrepid in
his nature, as some of his enemies supposed him to be of an opposite
character; though, says he, alluding to what afterwards happened,
misfortunes, age, and other accidents, will make a great man differ from
himself. We find our young nobleman while he was aboard a ship, amidst
the noise of the crew, could yet indulge his genius for poetry. One
would imagine that the ocean is too boisterous an element for the Muses,
whose darling wish is for ease and retirement; yet, we find him amidst
the roaring of winds and waves, open his Poem with these soothing lines.
Within the silent shades of soft repose,
Where fancy's boundless stream for ever flows;
Where the enfranchis'd soul, at ease can play,
Tir'd with the toilsome bus'ness of the day,
Where princes gladly rest their weary heads,
And change uneasy thrones for downy beds:
Where seeming joys delude despairing minds,
And where even jealousy some quiet finds;
There I, and sorrow, for a while could part,
Sleep clos'd my eyes, and eas'd a sighing heart.
Our author afterwards made a campaign in the French service.
As Tangier was in danger of being taken by the Moors, he offered to head
the forces which were to defend it; and accordingly he was appointed
commander of them. He was then earl of Mulgrave, and one of the lords
of the bed-chamber to king Charles the IId. In May 28, 1674, he was
installed knight of the Garter.
As he now began to be eminent at court, it was impossible but he must
have enemies, and these enemies being mean enough to hint stories to
his prejudice, in regard to some ladies, with whom the king was not
unconcerned; his lordship's command was not made so agreeable as it
otherwise would have been. The particulars of this affair have been
disputed by historians, some have imagined it to refer to some
celebrated courtezan, whose affections his lordship weaned from the
king, and drew them to himself; but Mrs. Manly, in her new Atalantis,
and Boyer, in his History of queen Anne, assign a very different cause.
They say, that before the lady Anne was married to prince George of
Denmark, she encouraged the addresses which the earl of Mulgrave was
bold enough to make her; and that he was sent to Tangier to break off
the correspondence.
Mrs. Manly in her Atalantis, says many unhandsome things of his
lordship, under the title of count Orgueil. Orgueil. Boyer says, some
years before the queen was married to prince George of Denmark, the earl
of Mulgrave, a nobleman of Singular accomplishments, both of mind and
person, aspired so high as to attempt to marry the lady Anne; but though
his addresses to her were checked, as soon as discovered, yet the
princess had ever an esteem for him.
This account is more probably true, than the former; when it is
considered, that by sending the earl to Tangier[2], a scheme was laid
for destroying him, and all the crew aboard the same vessel. For the
ship which was appointed to carry the general of the forces, was in such
a condition, that the captain of her declared, he was afraid to make the
voyage. Upon this representation, lord Mulgrave applied both to the lord
admiral, and the king himself: The first said, the ship was safe enough,
and no other could be then procured. The king answered him coldly, that
he hoped it would do, and that he should give himself no trouble about
it. His lordship was reduced to the extremity either of going in a leaky
ship, or absolutely refusing; which he knew his enemies would impute to
cowardice, and as he abhorred the imputation, he resolved, in opposition
to the advice of his friends, to hazard all; but at the same time
advised several volunteers of quality, not to accompany him in the
expedition, as their honour was not so much engaged as his; some of whom
wisely took his advice, but the earl of Plymouth, natural son of the
king, piqued himself in running the same danger with a man who went to
serve his father, and yet was used so strangely by the ill-offices of
his ministers.
Providence, however defeated the ministerial scheme of assassination,
by giving them the finest weather during the voyage, which held three
weeks, and by pumping all the time, they landed safe at last at Tangier,
where they met with admiral Herbert, afterwards earl of Torrington, who
could not but express his admiration, at their having performed such a
voyage in a ship he had sent home as unfit for service; but such was the
undisturbed tranquility and native firmness of the earl of Mulgrave's
mind, that in this hazardous voyage, he composed the Poem, part of which
we have quoted.
Had the earl of Mulgrave been guilty of any offence, capital, or
otherwise, the ministry might have called him to account for it; but
their contriving, and the king's consenting to so bloody a purpose, is
methinks such a stain upon them, as can never be wiped off; and had that
nobleman and the ship's crew perished, they would have added actual
murther, to concerted baseness.
Upon the approach of his lordship's forces, the Moors retired, and the
result of this expedition was, the blowing up of Tangier. Some time
after the king was appeased, the earl forgot the ill offices, that
had been done him; and enjoyed his majesty's favour to the last. He
continued in several great ports during the short reign of king James
the IId, till that prince abdicated the throne. As the earl constantly
and zealously advised him against several imprudent measures, which were
taken by the court, the king, some months before the revolution, began
to grow cooler towards him; but yet was so equitable as not to remove
him from his preferments: And after the king lost his crown, he had
the inward satisfaction, to be conscious, that his councils had not
contributed to that prince's misfortunes; and that himself, in any
manner, had not forfeited his honour and integrity.
That his lordship was no violent friend to, or promoter of, the
revolution, seems to appear from his conduct during that remarkable æra:
and particularly from the unfinished relation he left concerning it,
which was suppressed some years ago, by order of the government.
In a passage in his lordship's writings, it appears he was unwilling
that king James should leave England[3]. Just as the king was stepping
into bed the night before his going away, the earl of Mulgrave came into
the bed-chamber, which, being at so late an hour, might possibly give
the king some apprehensions of that lord's suspecting his design, with
which he was resolved not to trust him, nor any protestant: He therefore
stopped short, and turned about to whisper him in the ear, that his
commissioners had newly sent him a very hopeful account of some
accommodation with the Prince of Orange; to which that lord only replied
with a question, asking him if the Prince's army halted, or approached
nearer to London? the King owned they still marched on; at which the
earl shook his head, and said no more, only made him a low bow, with
a dejected countenance, humbly to make him understand that he gave no
credit to what the King's hard circumstances at that time obliged him to
dissemble. It also appears that the earl of Mulgrave was one of those
lords, who, immediately after the King's departure, sent letters to the
fleet, to the abandoned army of King James, and to all the considerable
garrisons in England, which kept them in order and subjection, not only
to the present authority, but that which should be settled afterwards.
To his lordship's humanity was owing the protection King James obtained
from the Lords in London, upon his being seized, and insulted by the
populace at Feversham in Kent; before which time, says he, 'the Peers
sat daily in the council chamber in Whitehall, where the lord Mulgrave
one morning happened to be advertised privately that the King had been
seized by the angry rabble at Feversham, and had sent a poor countryman
with the news, in order to procure his rescue, which was like to come
too late, since the messenger had waited long at the council door,
without any body's being willing to take notice of him. This sad account
moved him with great compassion at so extraordinary an instance of
worldly uncertainty; and no cautions of offending the prevailing party
were able to restrain him from shewing a little indignation at so mean a
proceeding in the council; upon which, their new president, the marquis
of Hallifax, would have adjourned it hastily, in order to prevent him.
But the lord Mulgrave earnestly conjured them all to sit down again,
that he might acquaint them with a matter that admitted no delay, and
was of the highest importance imaginable.
Accordingly the Lords, who knew nothing of the business, could not but
hearken to it; and those few that guessed it, and saw the consequence,
yet wanted time enough for concerting together about so nice, and very
important a matter, as saving, or losing a King's life. The Lords then
sat down again, and he represented to them what barbarity it would be,
for such an assembly's conniving at the rabble's tearing to pieces,
even any private gentleman, much more a great Prince, who, with all his
popery, was still their Sovereign; so that mere shame obliged them to
suspend their politics awhile, and call in the messenger, who told them
with tears, how the King had engaged him to deliver a letter from him to
any persons he could find willing to save him from so imminent a danger.
The letter had no superscription, and was to this effect;
'To acquaint the reader of it, that he had been discovered in his
retreat by some fishermen of Kent, and secured at first there by the
gentry, who were afterwards forced to resign him into the hands of an
insolent rabble.
Upon so pressing an occasion, and now so very publickly made known,
the council was surprized, and under some difficulty, for as there was
danger of displeasing by doing their duty, so there was no less
by omitting it, since the Law makes it highly criminal in such an
extremity; besides that most of them as yet unacquainted with the Prince
of Orange, imagined him prudent, and consequently capable of punishing
so base a desertion, either out of generosity, or policy. These found
afterwards their caution needless, but at present it influenced the
council to send 200 of the life guards under their captain the earl
of Feversham; first to rescue the King from all danger of the common
people, and afterwards to attend him toward the sea side; if he
continued his resolution of retiring, which they thought it more decent
to connive at, than to detain him here by force.'
Whoever has the least spark of generosity in his nature, cannot but
highly applaud this tender conduct of his lordship's, towards his
Sovereign in distress; and look with contempt upon the slowness of the
council in dispatching a force to his relief, especially when we find it
was only out of dread, lest they should displease the Prince of Orange,
that they sent any: this shewed a meanness of spirit, a want of true
honour, to such a degree, that the Prince of Orange himself could not,
consistently with good policy, trust those worshippers of power, who
could hear, unconcerned, that their late Sovereign was in the hands of a
vile rabble, and intreating them in vain for rescue.
The earl of Mulgrave made no mean compliances to King William,
immediately after the revolution, but when he went to pay his addresses
to him, he was well received; yet did he not accept of a post in the
government till some years after.