Chapter 2

Her virtue was now nodding, and she was ready to fall into the arms of any gallant, like mellow fruit, without much trouble in the gathering. Sir Thomas Skipwith, a character of gaiety of those times, and, who it seems had theatrical connections, was recommended to her, as being very able to promote her design in writing for the stage. This knight was in the 50th year of his age, and in the 60th of his constitution, when he was first introduced to her, and as he had been a long practised gallant, he soon made addresses to her, and whether or no this knight, who was more dangerous to a woman's reputation, than her virtue, was favoured by her, the world was so much convinced of it, that her character was now absolutely lost. Sir Thomas was a weak, vain, conceited coxcomb, who delighted in boasting of his conquests over women, and what was often owing to his fortune, and station in life, he imputed to his address, and the elegance of his manner, of both which he was totally destitute. He even published Mrs. Manley's dishonour, and from that time our sprightly poetess was considered, by the sober part of the sex, quite abandoned to all shame.

When her affair with this superannuated knight was over, she soon engaged in another intrigue, still more prejudicial to her character; for it was with a married man, one Mr. Tilly, a gentleman of the Law; with whom she lived a considerable time: while he underwent at home many of those severe lectures, which the just provocation, and jealousy of his wife taught her to read him. Mrs. Tilly at last died, and our gallant was left at his freedom to marry the object of his passion; but unluckily his finances were in such a situation, that he was obliged to repair them by marrying a woman of fortune. This was a cruel circumstance; for he really loved, and doated upon Mrs. Manley, and had the felicity of a reciprocal passion. She agreed however, in order to repair his fortune, that he should marry a rich young widow, whom he soon won by the elegance of his address, while our authoress retired into the country to spend her days in solitude and sorrow, and bid an everlasting farewel to the pleasures of love and gallantry. Mr. Tilly did not many years survive this reparation: his life was rendered miserable at home by the jealousy of his young wife, who had heard of his affair with Mrs. Manley; he lost his senses, and died in a deplorable situation.

During her retirement, our authoress, who had a most confirmed aversion to the Whig ministry, wrote her Atalantis, which was meant as a representation of the characters of some of those, who had effected the Revolution. A warrant was granted from the secretary of state's office, to seize the Printer and Publisher of these volumes. This circumstance reduced the writer to a very troublesome dilemma; she could not bear the thoughts that innocent people should suffer on her account, and she judged it cruel to remain concealed, while they who were only inferior instruments, were suffering for her. She consulted, on this occasion, her best friend, general Tidcomb, who, after rallying her for exposing people, who had never in particular injured her, he advised her to go into France, and made her an offer of his purse for that purpose. This advice she rejected, and came to a determined resolution, that no person should ever suffer on her account. The general asked her, how she should like to be confined in Newgate? to which she answered, that she would rather lye in a prison, after having discharged her conference, than riot in a palace under its reproaches. The general upon this replied, that these things sounded very heroic, but there was a great difference between real and imaginary sufferings, 'that she had chosen to declare herself for the Tories, a party, who never could keep their own, nor other people's secrets, and were ever forgetful of such as served them; that the most severe critics upon the Tory writings, were the Tories themselves, who never considering the design, or honest intention of the author, would examine the performance only, and that too with as much severity, as they would an enemy's, and at the same time value themselves upon being impartial against their friends. Then as to gratitude, or generosity, the Tories did not approach to the Whigs, who never suffered any man to go unrewarded, however dull, or insignificant, provided he declared himself to be for them; whereas the Tories had no general interest, and consequently no particular, each person refusing to contribute towards the benefit of the whole; and if it should happen, that she should perish, through want, in a Jail, they would sooner condemn her folly, than pity her sufferings.'

This did not deter our poetess from voluntarily preferring herself before the Court of King's Bench, as the author of the Atalantis.

When she was examined before the secretary (then lord Sunderland) he was assiduous to know from whom she had got information of some particulars, which they imagined were above her own intelligence. Her defence was with much humility and sorrow, at the same time denying that any persons were concerned with her, or that she had a farther design than writing for her own amusement, and diversion in the country, without intending particular reflexions, or characters; when this was not believed, and the contrary urged against her by several circumstances, she said, 'then it must be by inspiration, because knowing her own innocence, she could account for it no other way.' The secretary replied, 'that inspiration used to be upon a good account, and her writings were stark naught.' She, with an air of penitence, 'acknowledged, that his lordship's observation might be true, but that there were evil angels, as well as good, so that nevertheless what she had wrote, might still be by inspiration.'

In consequence of this examination, our authoress was close shut up in a messenger's house, without being allowed pen, ink, and paper. However her council sued out her Habeas Corpus at the King's-Bench Bar, and she was admitted to bail.

Whether those in power were ashamed to bring a woman to her trial, for writing a few amorous trifles, or our laws were defective, as was generally conjectured, because she had disguised her satire under romantic names, and a feigned scene of action, she was discharged, after several times exposing her in person, to cross the court before the Bench of Judges, with her three attendants, the Printer, and two Publishers.

Not long after this a total change of the ministry ensued, the statesmen to whom she had been obnoxious were removed, and consequently all her fears upon that score dissipated; her native gaiety, and good humour returned, and she again employed herself in writing a tragedy for the stage, and resolved never more to deal in politics, as being much out of the natural sphere of a woman, she was persuaded it was folly in one in her station, to disoblige any party by a pen, equally qualified to divert all. Being advanced to the autumn of her charms, she conversed with the opposite sex, in a manner very delicate, sensible, and agreeable, and when she felt that time had left his impression upon her brow, she did not court praise and flattery. The greatest genius's of the times conversed freely with her, and gave her daily proofs of esteem, and friendship, except Sir Richard Steele, with whom it seems she was at variance; and indeed Sir Richard sufficiently exposed himself by his manner of taking revenge; for he published to the world that it was his own fault he was not happy with Mrs. Manley, for which omission he publickly, and gravely asked her pardon.

Those are the most material incidents in the life of our poetess; a lady, who was born with high powers from nature, which were afterwards cultivated by enjoying the brightest conversation; the early part of her life was unfortunate, she fell a sacrifice to a seducer, who laid the foundation for those errors she afterwards committed, and of those sufferings she underwent; she had a high relish for the pleasures of life; she was extremely susceptible of the passion of love, and treated it with a peculiar vivacity.

Her dramatic works are

1. The Lover, or The Jealous Husband; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1696. This play did not succeed in the representation.

2. The Royal Mischief, a Tragedy; acted by his Majesty's Servants in the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields 1696. This was exhibited with general applause.

3. Lucius, the First Christian King of Britain, a Tragedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane by his Majesty's Servants, and dedicated to Sir Richard Steele. She has written several poems, and we shall select, as a specimen, an Epistle to the Countess of Bristol, which will shew how much she possessed the power of delicate numbers; she has also in print a volume of Letters, the second edition of which was published in 1713. She died July 11, 1724.

To the Right Honourable the Countess of BRISTOL.

Long had my mind, unknowing how to soar, In humble prose been train'd, nor aim'd at more: Near the fam'd sisters never durst aspire To sound a verse, or touch the tuneful lyre. 'Till Bristol's charms dissolv'd the native cold; Bad me survey her eyes, and thence be bold. Thee, lovely Bristol! thee! with pride I chuse, The first, and only subject of my muse; That durst transport me like the bird of Jove, To face th' immortal source of light above! Such are thy kindred beams-- So blessings, with a bounteous hand they give, So they create, and make creation live.

When charming Felton, of a beauteous race, Adorn'd in blooming youth, with ev'ry grace; First saw the lovely Suffolk Swain her prize, The noblest conquest of the brightest eyes! How many wretched nymphs that union made, What cold despair the warmest hearts invade! What crouds of lovers, hopeless and undone, Deplore those charms which brought their ruin on! Rich in themselves--all excellence they find, Wit! beauty! wisdom! and a constant mind! No vain desires of change disturb their joy; Such sweets, like bliss divine, can never cloy: Fill'd with that spirit which great souls inflame, Their wondrous offspring start to early fame. In their young minds, immortal sparkles rise! And all their mother flashes from their eyes! From thence such scenes of beauty charm the sight, We know not where o fix the strong delight! Hervey's soft features--next, Eliza bright! Anna just dawning, like Aurora's light! With all the smiling train of Cupids round, Fond little loves, with flowing graces crown'd.

As some fair flowers, who all their bloom disclose, The Spanish Jas'min, or the British Rose? Arriv'd at full perfection, charm the sense, Whilst the young blossoms gradual sweets dispense. The eldest born, with almost equal pride; The next appears in fainter colours dy'd: New op'ning buds, as less in debt to time, Wait to perform the promise of their prime! All blest descendants of the beauteous tree, What now their parent is, themselves shall be.

Oh! could I paint the younger Hervey's mind, Where wit and judgment, fire and taste refin'd To match his face, with equal art are join'd: Oh best belov'd of Jove! to thee alone, What would enrich the whole, he gives to one!

[A]In Titian's colours whilst Adonis glows, See fairest Bristol more than Venus shows; View well the valu'd piece, how nice each part; Yet nature's hand surpasses Titian's art! Such had his Venus and Adonis been, The standard beauty had from thence been seen! Whose arbitrary laws had fix'd the doom To Hervey's form, and Bristol's ever bloom!

[B]As once Kazeia, now Eliza warms The kindred-fair bequeath'd her all her charms; Such were her darts, so piercing and so strong, Endow'd by Phoebus both, with tuneful song; But far from thee Eliza be her doom; Snatch'd hence by death, in all her beauty's bloom. Long may'st thou live, adorning Bristol's name, With future heroes to augment his fame.

When haughty Niobe, with joy and pride, Saw all her shining offspring grace her side; She view'd their charms, exulting at each line, And then oppos'd 'em to the race divine! Enrag'd Latona urg'd the silver bow: Immortal vengeance laid their beauties low. No more a mother now--too much she mourn'd, By grief incessant into marble turn'd.

But lovely Bristol, with a pious mind, Owns all her blessings are from Heav'n assign'd. Her matchless Lord--her beauteous numerous race! Her virtue, modesty, and ev'ry grace! For these, devoutly, to the gods she bows, And offers daily praise, and daily vows: Phoebus, well-pleas'd, the sacrifice regards; And thus the grateful mother's zeal rewards: 'Beauty and wit, to all of Bristol's line! But each in some peculiar grace shall shine! Or to excel in courts, and please the fair! Or Conquest gain thro' all the wat'ry war! With harmony divine the ear to charm! Or souls with more melodious numbers warm! By wond'rous memory shall some excel In awful senates, and in speaking well! To hold Astræa's scales with equal hand, And call back justice to that happy land! To teach mankind how best the gods to praise! To fix their minds in truth's unerring ways!

'Thus all her honours, Bristol's sons shall wear, Whilst each his country's good shall make his chiefest care!'

[Footnote A: This is not designed as a parallel of the story, but the painting from a piece of Titian's, at my lord Bristol's.]

[Footnote B: A sister of lord Bristol's, who was a lady of most extraordinary beauty.]

* * * * *

HENRY NEEDLER,

This Poet was born at Harley in Surry, in the year 1690, and educated at a private school at Ryegate in the same county[A]. He was removed from thence in 1705, and in 1708 accepted a small place in a public office; where he continued the remainder of his days.

About this time contracting a friendship with a gentleman of a like taste, who furnished him with proper books, he applied himself at his intervals of leisure, to reading the dailies, and to the study of logic, metaphysics, and the mathematics, with which last he was peculiarly delighted. And in a few years by the force of his own happy genius, and unwearied diligence, without the assistance of any master, he acquired a considerable knowledge of the most difficult branches of those useful and entertaining studies.

By so close an application, he contracted a violent pain in his head, which notwithstanding the best advice, daily encreased. This, and other unfortunate circumstances concurring, so deeply affected him, who had besides in his constitution a strong tincture of melancholy, that he was at last brought under almost a total extinction of reason. In this condition he fell into a fever; and as there were before scarce any hopes of him, it may be said to have happily put an end to the deplorable bondage of so bright a mind, on the 21st of December, 1718, in the 29th year of his age. He was buried in the church of Friendsbury, near Rochester.

Mr. Needler's life was influenced by the principles of sincere, unaffected piety, and virtue.

On all occasions (says Mr. Duncomb) 'he was a strenuous advocate for universal toleration and forbearance in matters of religion; rightly supposing that no service can be acceptable to the supreme Being, unless it proceeds from the heart; and that force serves only to make hypocrites, but adds no new lights to the understanding. He was modest to a fault, entertaining the most humble opinion of his own performances; and was always ready to do justice to those of others. His affection for his friends indeed sometimes biassed his judgment, and led him to the commending their writings beyond their merit.'

In the volume of Mr. Needler's works, are printed some familiar Letters, upon moral, and natural subjects. They are written with elegance and taste; the heart of a good man may be traced in them all, and equally abound with pious notions, as good sense, and solid reasoning.--He seems to have been very much master of smooth versification, his subjects are happily chosen, and there is a philosophical air runs through all his writings; as an instance of this, we shall present our readers with a copy of his verses addressed to Sir Richard Blackmore, on his Poem, intitled The Creation.

Dress'd in the charms of wit and fancy, long The muse has pleas'd us with her syren song; But weak of reason, and deprav'd of mind, Too oft on vile, ignoble themes we find The wanton muse her sacred art debase, Forgetful of her birth, and heavenly race; Too oft her flatt'ring songs to sin intice, And in false colours deck delusive vice; Too oft she condescends, in servile lays, The undeserving rich and great to praise. These beaten paths, thy loftier strains refuse With just disdain, and nobler subjects chuse: Fir'd with sublimer thoughts, thy daring soul Wings her aspiring flight from Pole to Pole, Observes the foot-steps of a pow'r divine, Which in each part of nature's system shine; Surveys the wonders of this beauteous frame, And sings the sacred source, whence all things came.

But Oh! what numbers shall I find to tell, The mighty transports which my bosom swell, Whilst, guided by thy tuneful voice, I stray Thro' radiant worlds, and fields of native day, Wasted from orb, to orb, unwearied fly Thro' the blue regions of the yielding sky; See how the spheres in stated courses roll, And view the just composure of the whole!

Such were the strains, by antient Orpheus sung. To such, Mufæus' heav'nly lyre was strung; Exalted truths, in learned verse they told, And nature's deepest secrets did unfold. How at th' eternal mind's omnisic call, Yon starry arch, and this terrestrial ball, The briny wave, the blazing source of light, And the wane empress of the silent night, Each in it's order rose and took its place, And filled with recent forms the vacant space; How rolling planets trace their destin'd way, Nor in the wastes of pathless Æther stray; How the pale moon, with silver beams adorn Her chearful orb, and gilds her sharpened horns; How the vast ocean's swelling tides obey Her distant reign, and own her watr'y sway; How erring floods, their circling course maintain, Supplied by constant succours from the main; Whilst to the sea, the refluent streams restore, The liquid treasures which she lent before; What dreadful veil obscures the solar light, And Phæbe's darken'd face conceals from mortal sight. Thy learned muse, I with like pleasure hear The wonders of the lesser world declare, Point out the various marks of skill divine, Which thro' its complicated structure mine, In tuneful verse, the vital current trace, Thro' all the windings of its mazy race, And tell hew the rich purple tide bestows, Vigour, and kindly warmth where e'er it flows; By what contrivance of mechanic art The muscles, motions to the limbs impart; How at th' imperial mind's impulsive nod, Th' obedient spirits thro' the nervous road Find thro' their fib'rous cells the ready way, And the high dictates of the will obey; From how exact and delicate a frame, The channeled bones their nimble action claim; With how much depth, and subtility of thought The curious organ of the eye is wrought; How from the brain their root the nerves derive, And sense to ev'ry distant member give.

Th' extensive knowledge you of men enjoy, You to a double use of man employ; Nor to the body, is your skill confin'd, Of error's worse disease you heal the mind. No longer shall the hardy atheist praise Lucretius' piercing wit, and philosophic lays; But by your lines convinc'd, and charm'd at once, His impious tenets shall at length renounce, At length to truth and eloquence shall yield, Confess himself subdu'd, and wisely quit the field.

[Footnote A: See his Life prefixed to his works, by William Duncomb Esq;]

* * * * *

JOHN HUGHES,

William Duncomb, esq; has obliged the world with an entire edition of this author's poetical and prose works, to which he has prefixed some account of his life, written with candour and spirit. Upon his authority we chiefly build the following narration; in which we shall endeavour to do as much justice as possible to the memory of this excellent poet.

Our author was the son of a worthy citizen of London, and born at Marlborough in the county of Wilts, on the 29th of January 1677; but received the rudiments of his learning at private schools in London.

In the earliest years of his youth, he applied himself with ardour to the pursuit of the sister arts, poetry, drawing and music, in each of which by turns, he made a considerable progress; but for the most part pursued these and other polite studies, only as agreeable amusements, under frequent confinement from indisposition, and a valetudinary state of health. He had some time an employment in the office of ordinance; and was secretary to two or three commissioners under the great-seal, for purchasing lands for the better securing the docks and harbours at Portsmouth, Chatham, and Harwich.

In the year 1717 the lord chancellor Cowper, (to whom Mr. Hughes was then but lately known) was pleased, without any previous sollicitation, to make him his secretary for the commissions of the peace, and to distinguish him with singular marks of his favour and affection: And upon his lordship's laying down the great-seal, he was at his particular recommendation, and with the ready concurrence of his successor, continued in the same employment under the earl of Macclesfield.

He held this place to the time of his decease, which happened on the 17th of February 1719, the very night in which his tragedy, entitled the Siege of Damascus, was first acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

He was cut off by a consumption, after a painful life, at the age of 42, when he had just arrived at an agreeable competence, and advancing in fame and fortune. So just is the beautiful reflexion of Milton in his Lycidas;

Fame is the spur, that the clear spirit doth raise, (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon, when we hops to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind fury with th' abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life.--

He was privately buried in the vault under the chancel of St. Andrew's Church in Holborn. Mr. Hughes, as a testimony of gratitude to his noble friend, and generous patron, earl Cowper, gave his lordship a few weeks before he died, his picture drawn by Sir Godfrey Kneller, which he himself had received from that masterly painter. The value lord Cowper set upon it will be best shewn, by the letter he wrote upon this occasion to Mr. Hughes. As such a testimony from so eminent a person, was considered by himself as one of the highest honours he was capable of receiving, we shall therefore insert it.

24th Jan. 1719-20.

'Sir,

'I thank you for the most acceptable present of your picture, and assure you that none of this age can set a higher value on it than I do, and shall while I live, tho' I am sensible posterity will out-do me in that particular.'

I am with the greatest esteem, and sincerity

Your most affectionate, and oblig'd humble servant

COWPER.

Mr. Hughes was happy in the acquaintance and friendship of several of the greatest men, and most distinguished genius's of the age in which he lived; particularly of the nobleman just now mentioned, the present lord bishop of Winchester, lord chief baron Gilbert, Sir Godfrey Kneller, Mr. Congreve, Mr. Addison, Sir Richard Steele, Mr. Southern, Mr. Rowe, &c. and might have justly boasted in the words of Horace

----me Cum magnis vixisse, invita fatebitu usque Invidia.----