Chapter 30

The criticism upon Pope's epitaphs, [151] which was printed in the Universal Visiter, is placed here, being too minute and particular to be inserted in the life.

Every art is best taught by example. Nothing contributes more to the cultivation of propriety, than remarks on the works of those who have most excelled. I shall, therefore, endeavour, at this _visit_, to entertain the young students in poetry with an examination of Pope's epitaphs.

To define an epitaph is useless; every one knows that it is an inscription on a tomb. An epitaph, therefore, implies no particular character of writing, but may be composed in verse or prose. It is, indeed, commonly panegyrical; because we are seldom distinguished with a stone but by our friends; but it has no rule to restrain or modify it, except this, that it ought not to be longer than common beholders may be expected to have leisure and patience to peruse.

I.

_On_ CHARLES, _earl of_ DORSET, _in the church of Wythyham, in Sussex_.

Dorset, the grace of courts, the muse's pride, Patron of arts, and judge of nature, dy'd,-- The scourge of pride, though sanctify'd or great, Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state; Yet soft in nature, though severe his lay, His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. Blest satirist! who touch'd the mean so true, As show'd, vice had his hate and pity too. Blest courtier! who could king and country please, Yet sacred kept his friendship, and his ease. Blest peer! his great forefather's every grace Reflecting, and reflected on his race; Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine, And patriots still, or poets, deck the line.

The first distich of this epitaph contains a kind of information which few would want, that the man for whom the tomb was erected, _died_. There are, indeed, some qualities worthy of praise ascribed to the dead, but none that were likely to exempt him from the lot of man, or incline us much to wonder that he should die. What is meant by "judge of nature," is not easy to say. Nature is not the object of human judgment; for it is vain to judge where we cannot alter. If by nature is meant what is commonly called _nature_ by the criticks, a just representation of things really existing, and actions really performed, nature cannot be properly opposed to _art_; nature being, in this sense, only the best effect of _art_.

The scourge of pride--

Of this couplet, the second line is not, what is intended, an illustration of the former. _Pride_ in the _great_, is, indeed, well enough connected with _knaves in state_, though _knaves_ is a word rather too ludicrous and light; but the mention of _sanctified_ pride will not lead the thoughts to _fops in learning_, but rather to some species of tyranny or oppression, something more gloomy and more formidable than foppery.

Yet soft his nature--

This is a high compliment, but was not first bestowed on Dorset by Pope[152]. The next verse is extremely beautiful.

Blest satirist!

In this distich is another line of which Pope was not the author. I do not mean to blame these imitations with much harshness; in long performances they are scarcely to be avoided; and in shorter they may be indulged, because the train of the composition may naturally involve them, or the scantiness of the subject allow little choice. However, what is borrowed is not to be enjoyed as our own; and it is the business of critical justice to give every bird of the muses his proper feather.

Blest courtier!

Whether a courtier can properly be commended for keeping his _ease sacred_, may, perhaps, be disputable. To please king and country, without sacrificing friendship to any change of times, was a very uncommon instance of prudence or felicity, and deserved to be kept separate from so poor a commendation as care of his ease. I wish our poets would attend a little more accurately to the use of the word _sacred_, which surely should never be applied in a serious composition, but where some reference may be made to a higher being, or where some duty is exacted, or implied. A man may keep his friendship sacred, because promises of friendship are very awful ties; but, methinks, he cannot, but in a burlesque sense, be said to keep his ease _sacred_.

Blest peer!

The blessing ascribed to the _peer_ has no connexion with his peerage; they might happen to any other man whose ancestors were remembered, or whose posterity are likely to be regarded.

I know not whether this epitaph be worthy either of the writer or of the man entombed.

II

_On sir_ WILLIAM TRUMBULL, one of the principal secretaries of state to king William the third, who, having resigned his place, died in his retirement at Easthamstead, in Berkshire, 1716.

A pleasing form; a firm, yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd; Honour unchang'd, a principle profest, Fix'd to one side, but mod'rate to the rest: An honest courtier, yet a patriot too; Just to his prince, and to his country true; Fill'd with the sense of age, the fire of youth, A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth; A gen'rous faith, from superstition free; A love to peace, and hate of tyranny; Such this man was; who now, from earth remov'd, At length enjoys that liberty he lov'd.

In this epitaph, as in many others, there appears, at the first view, a fault which, I think, scarcely any beauty can compensate. The name is omitted. The end of an epitaph is to convey some account of the dead; and to what purpose is any thing told of him whose name is concealed? An epitaph, and a history of a nameless hero, are equally absurd, since the virtues and qualities so recounted in either are scattered at the mercy of fortune to be appropriated by guess. The name, it is true, may be read upon the stone; but what obligation has it to the poet, whose verses wander over the earth, and leave their subject behind them, and who is forced, like an unskilful painter, to make his purpose known by adventitious help?

This epitaph is wholly without elevation, and contains nothing striking or particular; but the poet is not to be blamed for the defects of his subject. He said, perhaps, the best that could be said. There are, however, some defects which were not made necessary by the character in which he was employed. There is no opposition between an _honest courtier_ and a _patriot_; for, an _honest courtier_ cannot but be a _patriot_.

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 prosaick, having no particular adaptation to any of the words that follow it.

The thought in the last line is impertinent, having no connexion with the foregoing character, nor with the condition of the man described. Had the epitaph been written on the poor conspirator[153] who died lately in prison, after a confinement of more than forty years, without any crime proved against him, the sentiment had been just and pathetical; but why should Trumbull be congratulated upon his liberty, who had never known restraint?

III.

_On the honourable_ SIMON HARCOURT, _only son of the lord chancellor_ HARCOURT, _at the church of Stanton-Harcourt, in Oxfordshire_, 1720.

To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near, Here lies the friend most lov'd, the son most dear:

Who ne'er knew joy, but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died. How vain is reason, eloquence how weak! If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. Oh! let thy once-lov'd friend inscribe thy stone, And with a father's sorrows mix his own!

This epitaph is principally remarkable for the artful introduction of the name, which is inserted with a peculiar felicity, to which chance must concur with genius, which no man can hope to attain twice, and which cannot be copied but with servile imitation.

I cannot but wish that, of this inscription, the two last lines had been omitted, as they take away from the energy what they do not add to the sense.

IV.

ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ.

_In Westminster Abbey._

JACOBVS CRAGGS, REGI MAGNÆ BRITANNIAE A SECRETIS ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBVS PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPVLI AMOR ET DELICIÆ VIXIT TITVLIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR, ANNOS HEV PAVCOS, XXXV. OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX.

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear! Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend; Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, Prais'd, wept, and honour'd, by the muse he lov'd.

The lines on Craggs were not originally intended for an epitaph; and, therefore, some faults are to be imputed to the violence with which they are torn from the poem that first contained them. We may, however, observe some defects. There is a redundancy of words in the first couplet: it is superfluous to tell of him, who was _sincere, true_, and _faithful_, that he was _in honour clear_.

There seems to be an opposition intended in the fourth line, which is not very obvious: where is 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 English, or verse and prose. If either language be preferable to the other, let that only be used; for no reason can be given why part of the information should be given in one tongue, and part in another, on a tomb, more than in any other place, or any other occasion; and to tell all that can be conveniently told in verse, and then to call in the help of prose, has always the appearance of a very artless expedient, or of an attempt unaccomplished. Such an epitaph resembles the conversation of a foreigner, who tells part of his meaning by words, and conveys part by signs.

V.

INTENDED FOR MR. ROWE.

_In Westminster Abbey_[154].

Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, And, sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust; Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies, To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes. Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest! Blest in thy genius, in thy love, too, blest! One grateful woman to thy fame supplies What a whole thankless land to his denies.

Of this inscription the chief fault is, that it belongs less to Rowe, for whom it is written, than to Dryden, who was buried near him; and, indeed, gives very little information concerning either.

To wish "Peace to thy shade," is too mythological to be admitted into a Christian temple: the ancient worship has infected almost all our other compositions, and might, therefore, be contented to spare our epitaphs. Let fiction, at least, cease with life, and let us be serious over the grave.

VI.

ON MRS. CORBET,

_Who died of a cancer in her breast_[155].

Here rests a woman, good without pretence, Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense: No conquest she, but o'er herself, desir'd; No arts essay'd, but not to be admir'd. Passion and pride were to her soul unknown, Convinc'd that virtue only is our own. So unaffected, so compos'd a mind, So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refin'd, Heav'n, as its purest gold, by tortures try'd; The saint sustain'd it, but the woman dy'd.

I have always considered this as the most valuable of all Pope's epitaphs; the subject of it is a character not discriminated by any shining or eminent peculiarities; yet that which really makes though not the splendour, the felicity of life, and 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. Domestick virtue, as it is exerted without great occasions, or conspicuous consequences, in an even unnoted tenour, 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 Jady of great beauty and excellence object to the fourth line, that it contained an unnatural and incredible panegyrick. Of this let the ladies judge.

VII.

_On the monument of the honourable_ ROBERT DIGBY, _and of his sister MARY, erected by their father the lord_ DIGBY, _in the church of Skerborne, in Dorsetshire, 1727._

Go! fair example of untainted youth, Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth: Compos'd in sufferings, and in joy sedate, Good without noise, without pretension great. Just of thy word, in ev'ry thought sincere, Who knew no wish but what the world might hear: Of softest manners, unaffected mind, Lover of peace, and friend of human kind: Go, live! for heav'n's eternal year is thine; Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine. And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom, Pensive hast follow'd to the silent tomb, Steer'd the same course to the same quiet shore, Not parted long, and now to part no more! Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known! Go, where to love and to enjoy are one! Yet take these tears, mortality's relief, And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief: These little rites, a stone, a verse receive, 'Tis all a father, all a friend can give!

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, nothing can be said of them which may not be applied with equal propriety to a thousand more. It is, indeed, no great panegyrick, that there is inclosed in this tomb one who was born in one year, and died in another; yet many useful and amiable lives have been spent, which yet leave little materials for any other memorial. These are, however, not the proper subjects of poetry; and whenever friendship, or any other motive, obliges a poet to write on such subjects, he must be forgiven if he sometimes wanders in generalities, and utters the same praises over different tombs.

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.

VIII. ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

_In Westminster Abbey, 1723._

Kneller, by heav'n, and not a master, taught, Whose art was nature, and whose pictures thought; Now for two ages, having snatch'd from fate Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great, Lies crown'd with princes' honours, poets' lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise. Living, great nature fear'd he might outvie Her works; and dying, fears herself may die.

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 applicable to the _honours_ or the _lays_; and the fourth is not only borrowed from the epitaph on Raphael, but of very harsh construction.

IX.

ON GENERAL HENRY WITHERS.

_In Westminster Abbey_, 1723.

Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, Thy country's friend, but more of human kind. O! born to arms! O! worth in youth approv'd! O! soft humanity in age belov'd! For thee the hardy vet'ran drops a tear, And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere.

Withers, adieu! yet not with thee remove Thy martial spirit, or thy social love! Amidst corruption, luxury and rage, Still leave some ancient virtues to our age: Nor let us say (those English glories gone) The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.

The epitaph on Withers affords another instance of commonplaces, though somewhat diversified, by mingled qualities, and the peculiarity of a profession.

The second couplet is abrupt, general, and unpleasing; exclamation seldom succeeds in our language; and, I think, it may be observed, that the particle O! used at the beginning of a sentence, always offends.

The third couplet is more happy; the value expressed for him, by different sorts of men, raises him to esteem; there is yet something of the common cant of superficial satirists, who suppose that the insincerity of a courtier destroys all his sensations, and that he is equally a dissembler to the living and the dead[156].

At the third couplet I should wish the epitaph to close, but that I should be unwilling to lose the two next lines, which yet are dearly bought if they cannot be retained without the four that follow them.

X.

ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON.

_At Easthamstead, in Berkshire, 1730._

This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, here lies an honest man: A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom heav'n kept sacred from the proud and great: Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; From nature's temp'rate feast rose satisfy'd, Thank'd heav'n that he liv'd, and that he dy'd.

The first couplet of this epitaph is borrowed from Crashaw. The four next lines contain a species of praise, peculiar, original, and just. Here, therefore, the inscription should have ended, the latter part containing nothing but what is common to every man who is wise and good. The character of Fenton was so amiable, that I cannot forbear to wish for some poet or biographer to display it more fully for the advantage of posterity. If he did not stand in the first rank of genius, he may claim a place in the second; and, whatever criticism may object to his writings, censure could find very little to blame in his life.

XI.

ON MR. GAY.

_In Westminster Abbey, 1732._

Of manners gentle, of affections mild; In wit, a man; simpicity, a child; With native humour temp'ring virtuous rage, Form'd to delight at once and lash the age; Above temptation, in a low estate; And uncorrupted e'en among the great: A safe companion and an easy friend, Unblam'd through life, lamented in thy end; These are thy honours! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust; But that the worthy and the good shall say, Striking their pensive bosoms--Here lies Gay!

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 for a poet. The _wit of a man_[157], and the _simplicity of a child_, make a poor and vulgar contrast, and raise no ideas of excellence, either intellectual or moral.

In the next couplet _rage_ is less properly introduced after the mention of _mildness_ and _gentleness_ which are made the constituents of his character; for a man so _mild_ and _gentle_ to _temper_ his _rage_, was not difficult.

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 praise merely negative, arising not from the possession of virtue, but the absence of vice, and 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 eight lines have no grammar; the adjectives are without any substantive, and the epithets without a subject.

The thought in the last line, that Gay is buried in the bosoms of the _worthy_ and the _good_, who are distinguished only to lengthen the line, is so dark that few understand it; and so harsh, when it is explained, that still fewer approve[158].

XII.

INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

_In Westminster Abbey_.

ISAACUS NEWTONIUS: Quem immortalem Testantur, _tempus, natura, coelum_: Mortalem Hoc marmor fatetur. Nature, and nature's law, lay hid in night: God said, _Let Newton be_! And all was light.

Of this epitaph, short as it is, the faults seem not to be very few. Why part should be Latin, and part English, it is not easy to discover. In the Latin 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.

XIII.

_On_ EDMUND _duke of_ BUCKINGHAM, _who died in the nineteenth year of his age_, 1735.

If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd, And ev'ry op'ning virtue blooming round, Could save a parent's justest pride from fate, Or add one patriot to a sinking state; This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear, Or sadly told how many hopes lie here! The living virtue now had shone approv'd, The senate heard him, and his country lov'd. Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame, Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham: In whom a race, for courage fam'd and art, Ends in the milder merit of the heart: And, chiefs or sages long to Britain giv'n, Pays the last tribute of a saint to heav'n.

This epitaph Mr. Warburton prefers to the rest; but I know not for what reason. To _crown_ with _reflection_ is surely a mode of speech approaching to nonsense. _Opening virtues blooming round,_ is something like tautology; the six following lines are poor and prosaick _Art_ is, in another couplet, used for _arts_, that a rhyme may be had to _heart._ The six last lines are the best, but not excellent.