This epitaph is wholly without elevation, and Ennobled by himself, by all approved, contains nothing striking or particular; but the poet Praised, wept, and honour'd, by the Muse he loved. is not to be blamed for the defects of his subject. He said perhaps the best that could be said. There for an epitaph; and therefore some faults are to be The lines on Craggs were not originally intended are, however, some defects which were not made necessary by the character in which he was em- from the poem that first contained them. We may, imputed to the violence with which they are torn ployed. There is no opposition between an honest however, observe some defects. There is a recourtier and a patriot; for, an honest courtier cannot dundancy of words in the first couplet: it is superbut be a patriot. fluous to tell of him, who was sincere, true, and faithful, that he was in honour clear. It was unsuitable to the nicety required in short | compositions, to close his verse with the word too; every rhyme should be a word of emphasis; nor can this rule be safely neglected, except where the length of the poem makes slight inaccuracies excusable, or allows room for beauties sufficient to overpower the effects of petty faults. At the beginning of the seventh line the word filled is weak and prosaic, having no particular ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT, Only Son of the Lord Chancellor Harcourt, at the 1720. To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near, How vain is reason, eloquence how weak! fourth line, which is not very obvious: where is There seems to be an opposition intended in the the relation between the two positions, that he gained no title and lost no friend? It may be proper here to remark the absurdity of joining, in the same inscription, Latin and Enpreferable to the other, let that only be used; for, glish, or verse and prose. If either language be should be given in one tongue, and part in another, no reason can be given why part of the information other occasion; and to tell all that can be convenion a tomb, more than in any other place, or on any ently told in verse, and then to call in the help of expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such prose, has always the appearance of a very artless who tells part of his meaning by words, and conan epitaph resembles the conversation of a foreigner, veys part by signs. INTENDED FOR MR. ROWE. Of this inscription the chief fault is, that it be longs less to Rowe, for whom it was written, than This epitaph is principally remarkable for the to Dryden, who was buried near him; and indeed artful introduction of the name, which is inserted gives very little information concerning either. with a peculiar felicity, to which chance must conTo wish Peace to thy shade is too mythological cur with genius, which no man can hope to attain to be admitted into a Christian temple: the ancient twice, and which cannot be copied but with servile worship has infected almost all our other compositions, and might therefore be contented to spare our imitation. I cannot but wish that, of this inscription, the two epitaphs. Let fiction, at least, cease with life, and last lines had been omitted, as they take away let us be serious over the grave. from the energy what they do not add to the sense. ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ. In Westminster Abbey. JACOBUS CRAGGS, REGI MAGNE BRITANNIE A SECRETIS ET CONSILIIS SANCTORIBUS PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICIE OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX. Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere ; ON MRS. CORBET, Who died of a Cancer in her Breast.* I have always considered this as the most valuable of all Pope's epitaphs; the subject of it is a *In the North aisle of the parish church of St. Marga *Major Bernardi, who died in Newgate, Sept. 20, 1736. ret, Westminster. character not discriminated by any shining or emi- | subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wannent peculiarities; yet that which really makes, ders in generalities, and utters the same praises though not the splendour, the felicity of life, and over different tombs. that which every wise man will choose for his final, and lasting companion in the languor of age, in the quiet of privacy, when he departs weary and disgusted from the ostentatious, the volatile, and the vain. Of such a character, which the dull overlook, and the gay despise, it was fit that the value should be made known, and the dignity established. Domestic virtue, as it is exerted without great occasions, or conspicuous consequences, in an even unnoted tenor, required the genius of Pope to display it in such a manner as might attract regard, and enforce reverence. Who can forbear to lament that this amiable woman has no name in the verses? If the particular lines of this inscription be examined, it will appear less faulty than the rest. There is scarcely one line taken from commonplaces, unless it be that in which only Virtue is said to be our own. I once heard a Lady of great beauty and excellence object to the fourth line, that it contained an unnatural and incredible panegyric. Of this, let the ladies judge. ON THE MONUMENT OF THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY AND OF HIS SISTER Erected by their Father the Lord Digby, in the Go! fair example of untainted youth, Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth; Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate, Who knew no wish but what the world might hear: And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom, Yet take these tears; mortality's relief, The scantiness of human praises can scarcely be made more apparent, than by remarking how often Pope has, in the few epitaphs which he composed, found it necessary to borrow from himself. The fourteen epitaphs which he has written, comprise about a hundred and forty lines, in which there are more repetitions than will easily be found in all the rest of his works. In the eight lines which make the character of Digby, there is scarce any thought, or word, which may not be found in the other epitaphs. The ninth line, which is far the strongest and most elegant, is borrowed from Dryden. The conclusion is the same with that on Harcourt, but is here more elegant and better connected. ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER, In Westminster Abbey, 1723. Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie Of this epitaph the first couplet is good, the second not bad, the third is deformed with a broken metaphor, the word crowned not being appliacable to the honours or lays; and the fourth is not only borrowed from the epitaph on Raphael, but of a very harsh construction. ON GENERAL HENRY WITHERS, In Westminster Abbey, 1729. Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of common-places, though somewhat diversified, by mingled qualities, and the peculiarity of a profession. This epitaph contains of the brother only a general indiscriminate character, and of the sister tells nothing but that she died. The difficulty in writing epitaphs is to give a particular and appropriate praise. This, however, is not always to be performed, whatever be the diligence or ability of the writer; for, the greater part of mankind have no character at all, have little that distinguishes them from others equally good or bad, and therefore no- The second couplet is abrupt, general, and unthing can be said of them which may not be applied pleasing; exclamation seldom succeeds in our lanwith equal propriety to a thousand more. It is in- guage, and, I think, it may be observed that the deed no great panegyric, that there is inclosed in particle O! used at the beginning of the sentence, this tomb one who was born in one year, and died always offends. in another; yet many useful and amiable lives have The third couplet is more happy; the value exbeen spent, which leave little materials for any pressed for him by different sorts of men, raises other memorial. These are however not the pro- him to esteem; there is yet something of the comper subjects of poetry; and whenever friendship, mon cant of superficial satirists, who suppose that or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on such the insincerity of a courtier destroys all his sensa tions, and that he is equally a dissembler to the for a poet. The wit of man, and the simplicity of living and the dead. a child, make a poor and vulgar contrast, and raise At the third couplet I should wish the epitaph no ideas of excellence either intellectual or moral. to close, but that I should be unwilling to lose the In the next couplet rage is less properly introtwo next lines, which yet are dearly bought if [duced after the mention of mildness and gentleness, they cannot be retained without the four that fol-which are made the constituents of his character; low them. for a man so mild and gentle to temper his rage, was not difficult. ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON, At Easthamstead in Berkshire, 1730. Whom heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great; Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, The next line is inharmonious in its sound, and mean in its conception; the opposition is obvious, and the word lash used absolutely, and without any modification, is gross and improper. To be above temptation in poverty, and free from corruption among the Great, is indeed such a peculiarity as deserved notice. But to be a safe companion, is a praise merely negative, arising not from possession of virtue, but the absence of vice, and that one of the most odious. As little can be added to his character, by asserting that he was lamented in his end. Every man that dies is, at least by the writer of his epitaph, supposed to be lamented; and therefore this general lamentation does no honour to Gay. The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from Crashaw. The four next lines contain a species of The first eight lines have no grammar; the adpraise peculiar, original, and just. Here, there-jectives are without any substantives and the epifore, the inscription should have ended, the latter thets without a subject. part containing nothing but what is common to The thought in the last line, that Gay is buried every man who is wise and good. The character in the bosoms of the worthy and the good, who are of Fenton was so amiable that I cannot forbear to distinguished only to lengthen the line, is so dark wish for some poet or biographer to display it that few understand it; and so harsh, when it is more fully for the advantage of posterity. If he explained, that still fewer approve. did not stand in the first rank of genius, he may claim a place in the second; and, whatever critieism may object to his writings, censure could find very little to blame in his life. ON MR. GAY, In Westminster Abbey, 1732. Of manners gentle, of affections mild; With native humour tempering virtuous rage, As Gay was the favourite of our author, this epitaph was probably written with an uncommon degree of attention; yet it is not more successfully executed than the rest, for it will not always happen that the success of a poet is proportionate to his labour. The same observation may be extended to all works of imagination, which are often influenced by causes wholly out of the performer's power, by hints of which he perceives not the origin, by sudden elevations of mind which he cannot produce in himself, and which sometimes rise when he expects them least. The two parts of the first line are only echoes of each other; gentle manners and mild affections, if they mean any thing, must mean the same. That Gay was a man in wit is a very frigid commendation; to have the wit of a man is not much F INTENDED FOR Testantus, Tempus, Natur, Cœlum: Hoc marmoe fatetur. Nature, and Nature's laws, lay hid in night: Of this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be very few. Why part should be Latin, and part English, is not easy to discover. In the Latın the opposition of Immortalis and Mortalis, is a mere sound, or a mere quibble; he is not immortal in any sense contrary to that in which he is mortal. In the verses the thought is obvious, and the words night and light are too nearly allied. ON EDMUND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd, This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest; that though he wrote the epitaph in a state of unbut I know not for what reason. To crown with certainty, yet it could not be laid over him till his reflection, is surely a mode of speech approaching grave was made. Such is the folly of wit when it to nonsense. Opening virtues blooming round, is is ill employed. something like tautology: the six following lines The world has but little new; even this wretchare poor and prosaic. Art is in another couplet edness seems to have been borrowed from the folused for arts, that a rhyme may be had to heart. lowing tuneless lines; The six last lines are the best, but not excellent. The rest of his sepulchral performances hardly deserve the notice of criticism. The contemptible 'Dialogue' between HE and SHE should have been suppressed for the author's sake. In his last epitaph on himself, in which he attempts to be jocular upon one of the few things that make wise men serious, he confounds the living man with the dead: Under this stone, or under this sill, Or under this turf, &c. Ludovici Areosti humantur ossa Nam scire haud potuit futura, sed nec Surely Ariosto did not venture to expect that his When a man is once buried, the question, under trifle would have ever had such an illustrious imiwhat he is buried, is easily decided. He forgot, tator. I AM inclined to think that both the writers of books, I wish we had the humanity to reflect, that even the and the readers of them, are generally not a little un-worst authors might, in their endeavour to please us, reasonable in their expectations. The first seem to deserve something at our hands. We have no cause fancy that the world must approve whatever they pro-to quarrel with them but for their obstinacy in perduce, and the latter to imagine that authors are obliged sisting to write; and this, too, may admit of aileviato please them at any rate. Methinks, as on the one ting circumstances. Their particular friends may be hand no single man is born with a right of controlling either ignorant or insincere; and the rest of the world the opinions of all the rest, so, on the other, the world in general is too well bred to shock them with a has no title to demand that the whole care and time of truth which generally their booksellers are the first any particular person should be sacrificed to its enter- that inform them of. This happens not till they have tainment; therefore I cannot but believe that writers spent too much of their time to apply to any profesand readers are under equal obligations, for as much sion which might better fit their talents, and till such fame or pleasure as each affords the other. talents as they have are so far discredited as to be of Every one acknowledges it would be a wild notion but small service to them. For (what is the hardest to expect perfection in any work of man; and yet one case imaginable) the reputation of a man generally would think the contrary was taken for granted, by depends upon the first step he makes in the world; the judgment commonly passed upon poems. A critic and people will establish their opinion of us from supposes he has done his part, if he proves a writer to what we do at that season when we have least judghave failed in an expression, orerred in any particular ment to direct us. point; and can it then be wondered at, if the poets in On the other hand, a good poet no sooner comgeneral seem resolved not to own themselves in any municates his works with the same desire of inforerror? For as long as one side will make no allow-mation, but it is imagined he is a vain young creature, ances, the other will be brought to no acknowledg-given up to the ambition of fame, when perhaps the poor man is all the while trembling with the fear of ments. I am afraid this extreme zeal on both sides is ill- being ridiculous. If he is made to hope he may please placed; Poetry and Criticism being by no means the the world, he falls under very unlucky circumstances; universal concern of the world, but only the affair for, from the moment he prints, he must expect to of idle men who write in their closets, and of idle hear no more truth than if he were a prince or a men who read there. beauty. If he has not very good sense, (and indeed Yet sure, upon the whole, a bad author deserves there are twenty men of wit for one man of sense,) better usage than a bad critic; for a writer's endea- his living thus in a course of flattery may put him vour, for the most part, is to please his readers, and in no small danger of becoming a coxcomb; if he be fails merely through the misfortune of an ill- has, he will, consequently, have so much diffidence judgment; but such a critic's is to put them out of as not to reap any great satisfaction from his praise; humour: a design he could never go upon without since, if it be given to his face, it can scarce be disboth that and an ill-temper. tinguished from flattery; and if in his absence, it is I think a good deal may be said to extenuate the hard to be certain of it. Were he sure to be comfaults of bad poets. What we call a Genius is hard mended by the best and most knowing, he is as sure to be distinguished by a man himself from a strong of being envied by the worst and most ignorant, inclination; and if his genius be ever so great, he which are the majority; for it is with a fine genius as cannot at first discover it in any other way, than by with a fine fashion; all those are displeased at it who giving way to that prevalent propensity which renders are not able to follow it; and it is to be feared that him the more liable to be mistaken. The only me-esteem will seldom do any man so much good as illthod he has, is to make the experiment by writing, will does him harm. Then there is a third class of and appealing to the judgment of others. Now, if people, who make the largest part of mankind, those be happens to write ill (which is certainly no sin in of ordinary or indifferent capacities, and these, to a itself) he is immediately made an object of ridicule, man, will hate or suspect him; a hundred honest 43 |