" duke's death, all avenues were stopped to his "preferment; and, during the rest of that reign, "he paffed his time with the Muses and his " books, and fometimes the conversation of his " friends. "When he had just got to be easy in his for"tune, and was in a fair way to make it better, "death swept him away, and in him deprived the "world of one of the best men, as well as one of "the best geniuses, of the age. He died like a "Christian and a philosopher, in charity with all " mankind, and with an absolute resignation to "the will of God. He kept up his good-humour "to the last; and took leave of his wife and " friends, immediately before his last agony, with "the same tranquillity of mind, and the fame in" difference for life, as though he had been upon " taking but a short journey. He was twice mar"ried; first to a daughter of Mr. Parfons, one of "the auditors of the revenue; and afterwards to a " daughter of Mr. Devenith, of a good family in "Dorsetshire. By the first he had a fon; and by "the second a daughter, married afterwards to Mr... "Fane. He died the fixth of December, 1718, " in the forty-fifth year of his age: and was bu-"ried the nineteenth of the fame month in West-"minster-abbey, in the aile where many of our "English poets are interred, over-against Chaucer, "his body being attended by a select number of " his friends, and the dean and choir officiating "at the funeral." To this character, which is apparently given with the fondness of a friend, may be added the testimony of Pope, who says, in a letter to Blount, "Mr. Rowe accompanied me, and passed a week к. 6. " in 66 " in the Foreft. I need not tell you how much a man of his turn entertained me; but I must ac"quaint you, there is a vivacity and gaiety of dif"pofition, almost peculiar to him, which make it impossible to part from him without that uneasi" ness which generally succeeds all our pleasure." Pope has left behind him another mention of his companion, less advantageous, which is thus reported by Dr. Warburton: "Rowe, in Mr. Pope's opinion, maintained a "decent character, but bad no heart. Mr. Ad"difon was juftly offended with fome behaviour "which arose from that want, and estranged him"felf from him; which Rowe felt very feverely. "Mr. Pope, their common friend, knowing this, "took an opportunity, at some juncture of Mr. " Addison's advancement, to tell him how poor "Rowe was grieved at his displeasure, and what "fatisfaction he expressed at Mr. Addison's good "fortune, which he expressed so naturally, that "he (Mr. Pope) could not but think him fincere. " Mr. Addison replied, 'I do not fufpect that he feigned; but the levity of his heart is such, that "he is ftruck with any new adventure; and it " would affect him just in the fame manner, if he " heard I was going to be hanged.' Mr. Pope faid, " he could not deny but Mr. Addison understood "Rowe well." This cenfure time has not left us the power of confirming or refuting; but observation daily shews, that much stress is not to be laid on hyperbolical accufations, and pointed fentences, which even he that utters them defires to be applauded rather than credited. Addison can hardly be fupposed to have meant all that he said. Few characters racters can bear the microscopick scrutiny of wit quickened by anger; and perhaps the best advice to authors would be, that they should keep out of the way of one another. Rowe is chiefly to be confidered as a tragick writer and a tranflator. In his attempt at comedy he failed so ignominioufly, that his Biter is not inferted in his works; and his occafional poems and short compositions are rarely worthy of either praise or cenfure, for they feem the cafual sports of a mind seeking rather to amuse its leifure than to exercise its powers. In the conftruction of his dramas, there is not. much art; he is not a nice observer of the Unities. He extends time and varies place as his convenience requires. To vary the place is not, in my opinion, any violation of Nature, if the change be made between the acts; for it is no less eafy for. the spectator to suppose himself at Athens in the fecond act, than at Thebes in the first; but to change the scene, as is done by Rowe, in the middle of an act, is to add more acts to the play, fince an act is so much of the business as is tranfacted without interruption. Rowe, by this licence, eafily extricates himself from difficulties; as in Jane Gray, when we have been terrified with all the dreadful pomp of publick execution, and are wondering how the heroine or the poet will proceed, no fooner has Jane pronounced fome pro-, phetick rhymes, than-pass and be gone-the scene closes, and Pembroke and Gardiner are turned out upon the ftage. Iknow not that there can be found in his plays. any deep fearch into nature, any accurate difcriminations of kindred qualities, or nice display of paffion passion in its progress; all is general and undefined. Nor does he much interest or affect the auditor, except in Jane Shore, who is always feen and heard with pity. Alicia is a character of empty noife, with no refemblance to real forrow or to natural madness. Whence, then, has Rowe his reputation? From the reafonableness and propriety of fome of his fcenes, from the elegance of his diction, and the suavity of his verse. He seldom moves either pity or terror, but he often elevates the sentiments; he seldom pierces the breast, but he always delights the ear, and often improves the understanding. His tranflation of the Golden Verses, and of the first book of Quillet's Poem, have nothing in them remarkable. The Golden Verses are tedious. The version of Lucan is one of the greatest productions of English poetry; for there is perhaps none that so completely exhibits the genius and fpirit of the original. Lucan is diftinguished by a kind of dictatorial or philofophic dignity, rather, as Quintilian observes, declamatory than poetical; full of ambitious morality and pointed sentences, comprised in vigorous and animated lines. This character Rowe has very diligently and fuccessfully preserved. His verfification, which is such as his contemporaries practised, without any attempt at innovation or improvement, seldom wants either melody or force. His author's sense is sometimes a little diluted by additional infufions, and fometimes weakened by too much expansion. But fuch faults are to be expected in all translations, from the constraint of measures and diffimilitude of languages. The Pharfalia of Rowe deserves more notice than it obtains, and as it is more read will be more esteemed. ADDISON. JOSEPH ADDISON was born on the first of May, 1672, at Milston, of which his father, Lancelot Addison, was then rector, near Ambrosebury in Wiltshire, and appearing weak and unlikely to live, he was chriftened the same day. After the usual domestic education, which, from the character of his father, may be reasonably supposed to have given him strong impreffions of piety, he was committed to the care of Mr. Naish at Ambrofebury, and afterwards of Mr. Taylor at Salisbury. Not to name the school or the masters of men illustrious for literature, is a kind of biftorical fraud, by which honeft fame is injuriously dimi. nished: I would therefore trace him through the whole process of his education. In 1683, in the beginning of his twelfth year, his father, being made dean of Lichfield, naturally carried his family to his new refidence, and, I believe, placed him for some time, probably not long, under Mr. Shaw, then master of the school at Lichfield, father of the late Dr. Peter Shaw. Of this interval his biographers have given no account; and I know it only from a story of a barring-out, told me, |