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Of his personal character all that I have heard is, that he was eminent for bravery and skill in the sword, and that in conversation he was solemn and pompous. He had great sensibility of censure, if judgment may be made by a single story which I heard long ago from mr. Iog, a gentleman of great eminence in Staffordshire. “ Philips," said he,
was once at table, when I asked him, How came thy king of Epirus to drive oxen, and to say, I'm goaded on by love? After which question he never spoke again.”
Of the Distrest Mother not much is pretended to be his. own, and therefore it is no subject of criticism: bis other two tragedies, I believe, are not below mediocrity, nor above it. Among the poems comprised in the late collection, the Letter from Denmark may be justly praised; the paslorals, which, by the writer of the Guardian, were ranked as one of the four genuine productions of the rustic muse, cannot surely be despicable. That they exhibit a moda of life which did not exist, nor ever existed, is not to be objected; the supposition of such a state is allowed to pastoral. In his other poems he cannot be denied the praise of lines sometimes elegant; but he has seldem much force, or much comprehension. The pieces that please best are those which, from Pope and Pope's adherents, procured him the name of Namby Pamby, the poems of short lines, by which he paid his court to all ages and characters, from Walpole “ the steerer of the realm,” to miss Pulteney in the nursery. The numbers are smooth and sprightly, and the diction is seldom faulty. They are not loaded with much thought, yet, if they had been written by Addison, they would have had admirers: little things are not valued but when they are done by those who can do greater.
In his translations from Pindar he found the art of reach. ing all the obscurity of the Theban bard, however he may fall below his sublimity; he will be allowed, if he has less fire, to have more smoke.
He has added nothing to English poetry, yet at least half his book deserves to be read: perhaps he valued most him. self that part which the critic would reject
GILBERT WEST is one of the writers of whom I regret my inability to give a sufficient account; the intelligence which my inquiries have obtained is general and scanty.
He was the son of the reverend dr. West; perhaps him who published Pindar at Oxford about the beginning of this century. His mother was sister to sir Richard Temple, afterwards lord Cobham. His father, purposing to educate him for the church, sent him first to Eton, and afterwards to Oxford; but he was seduced to a more airy mode of life, by a commission in a troop of horse, procured him by bis uncle.
He continued some time in the army; though it is reasonable to suppose that he never sunk into a mere soldier, nor ever lost the love, or much neglected the pursuit, of learning; and afterwards, finding himself more inclined to civil employment, he laid down his commission, and engaged in business under the lord Townshend, then secretary of state, with whom he attended the king to Hanover.
His adherence to lord Townshend ended in nothing but a nomination (May, 1729) to be clerk extraordinary of the privy council, which produced no immediate profit; for it only placed him in a state of expectation and right of suc. cession, and it was very long before a vacancy admitted him to profit.
Soon afterwards he married, and settled himself in a very pleasant house at Wickham in Kent, where he devoted himself to learning and to piety. Of his learning the late collection exhibits evidence, which would have been yet fuller, if the dissertations which accompany his version of Pindar had not been improperly omitted. Of bis piely the influence has, I hope, been extended far by his Observations on the Resurrection, published in 1747, for which the university of Oxford created him a doctor of laws by diploma, (March 30,1748), and would doubtless have reached
pot further, had he lived to complete what he lead for some time meditated, the Evidences of the Truth of the New Testament. Perhaps it may not be without effect to tell, that he read the prayers of the public liturgy every morning to his family, and that on Sunday evening he called his servants into the parlour, and read to them first a sermon, and then prayers. Crashaw is now not the only maker of verses to whom may be given the two veneral le names of poet and saint.
He was very often visited by Lyttelton and Pitt, who, when they were weary of faction and debates, used at Wickbim to find books and quiet, a decent table, and literary conversation. There is at Wickham a walk made by Pitt; and, what is of far more importance, at Wickham Lyttelton received that conviction which produced his Dissertation on St. Paul.
These two illustrious friends bad for a while listened to the blandishments of infidelity; and when West's book was published, it was bought by some who did not know his change of opinion, in expectation of new objections against Christianity; and, as infidels do not want malignity, they revenged the disappointment by calling him a methodist.
Mr.West's income was not large; and his friends endeavoured, but without success, to obtain an augmentation. It is reported, that the education of the young prince was offered to him, but that he required a more extensive power of superintendence than it was thought proper to allow him.
In time, however, his revenue was improved; he lived to have one of the lucrative clerkships of the privy council, (1752); and mr. Pitt at last had it in his power to make him treasurer of Chelsea hospital.
He was now sufficiently rich; but wealth came too late to be long enjoyed; nor could it secure him from the calamities of life; he lost (1755) bis only son; and the year after, (March 26), a stroke of the palsy brought to the grave one of the few poets to whom the grave might be without its terrors.
Of his translations I have only compared the first Olympic ode with the original, and found my expectation surpassed,
both by its elegance and its exactness. He does not confine himself to bis author's train of stanzas; for he saw that the difference of the languages required a different mode of versification. The first strophe is eminently happy: in the second he has a little strayed from Pindar's meaning, who says, “ If thou, my soul, wishest to speak of games, look not in the desert sky for a planet hotter than the sun; nor shall we tell of nobler games than those of Olympia.” He is sometimes too paraphrastical. Pindar bestows upon Hiero an epithet, which, in one word, signifies delighting in horses; a word which, in the translation, generates these lines:
Hiero's royal brows, whose care
Tends the courser's noble breed,
Pleas'd to train the youthful steed.
Pindar says of Pelops, that " he came alone in the dark to · the white sea;" and West,
Near the billow-beaten side
Darkling, and alone, he stood : which, however, is less exuberant than the former passage.
A work of this kind must, in a minute examination, discover many imperfections; but West's version, so far as I have considered it, appears to be the product of great labour and great abilities.
His Institution of the Garter (1742) is written with sufficient knowledge of the manners that prevailed in the age to which it is referred, and with great elegance of diction; but, for want of a process of events, neither knowledge nor elegance preserve the reader from weariness.
His Imitations of Spenser are very successfully performed, both with respect to the metre, the language and the fiction; and being engaged at once by the excellence of the sentiments, and the artifice of the copy, the mind has two amusements together. But such compositions are not to be reckoned among the great achievements of intellech
because their effect is local and temporary; they appeal not to reason or passion, but to memory, and pre-suppose an accidental or artificial state of mind. An imitation of Spenser is nothing to a reader, however acute, by whom Spenser has never been perused. Works of this kind may deserve praise, as proofs of great industry, and great nicety of observation; but the highest praise, the praise of genius, they cannot claim. The noblest beauties of art are those of which the effect is co-extended with rational nature, or at least with the whole circle of polished life; what is less than this can be only pretty, the plaything of fashion, and the amusement of a day.
There is in the Adventurer a paper of verses given to one of the authors as mr. West's, and supposed to have been written by him. It should not be concealed, however, that it is printed with mr. Jago's name in Dodsley's collection, and is mentioned as his in a letter of Shenstone's. Perhaps West gave it without naming the author; and Hawkesworth, receiving it from him, thought it his; for bis he thought it, as he told me, and as he tells the public.