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By his mother's solicitation he was admitted into Westminster school, where he was soon distinguished. He was wont, says Sprat, to relate, “ that he had this defect in his memory at that time, that his teachers never could bring it to retain the ordinary rules of grammar.” This is an instance of the natural desire of man to propagate a wonder. It is surely very difficult to tell any thing as it was heard, when Sprat could not retain from amplifying a commodious incident, though the book to which he prefixed his narrative contained its confutation. A memory, admitting some things, and rejecting others, an intellectual digestion, that concocted the pulp of learning, but refused the husks, had the appearance of an instinctive elegance, of a particular provision made by Nature for literary politeness. But in the author's own honest relation, the marvel vanishes: he was, he says, “such an enemy to all constraint, that his master never could prevail on him to learn the rules without book.” He does not tell that he could not learn the rules; but that, being able to perform his exercises without them, and being an “enemy to constraint,” he spared himself the labour. Among the English poets, Cowley, Milton, and Pope might be said “to lisp in numbers,” and have given such early proofs, not only of powers of language, but of comprehension of things, as, to more tardy minds, seem scarcely credible. But of the learned puerilities of Cowley there is no doubt, since a volume of his poems was not only written, but printed, in his thirteenth year', containing, with other poetical compositions, The tragical History of Pyramus and Thisbe, written when he was ten years old, and Constantia and Philetus, written two years after. While he was yet at school, he produced a comedy called Love's Riddle, though it was not published till he had been some time at Cambridge. This comedy is of the pastoral kind, which requires no acquaintance with the living world, and therefore the time at which it was composed adds little to the wonders of Cowley’s minority. - In 1636, he was removed to Cambridge”, where he continued his studies with great intenseness, for he is said to have written, while he was yet a young student, the greater part of his Davidcis; a work of which the materials could not have been collected without the study of many years, but by a mind of the greatest vigour and activity. Two years after his settlement at Cambridge, he published Love's Riddle, with a poetical dedication to sir Kenelin Digby, of whose acquaintance all his contemporaries seem to have been ambitious; and Naufragium Joculare, a comedy written in Latin, but without due attention to the ancient models; for it is not loose verse, but mere prose. It was printed with a dedication in verse to Dr. Comber, master of the college; but, having neither the facility of a popular nor the accuracy of a learned work, it seems to be now universally neglected. At the beginning of the civil war, as the prince passed through Cambridge in his 1 This volume was not published before 1633, when Cowley was fifteen years old. Dr. Johnson, as
well as former biographers, seems to have been misled by the portrait of Cowley being by unistake marked with the age of thirteen years. R.
a He was a candidate this year at Westminster school for election to Trinity College, but proved unsuccessful. N,
way to York, he was entertained with a representation of the Guardian, a comedy, which, Cowley says, was neither written nor acted, but rough-drawn by him, and repeated by the scholars. That this comedy was printed during his absence from his country, he appears to have considered as injurious to his reputation, though, during the suppression of the theatres, it was sometimes privately acted with sufficient approbation. In 1643, being now master of arts, he was, by the prevalence of the parliament, ejected from Cambridge, and sheltered himself at St. John's College in Oxford; where, as is said by Wood, he published a satire, called The Puritan and Papist, which was only inserted in the last collection of his works 3; and so distinguished himself by the warmth of his loyalty and the elegance of his conversation, that he gained the kindness and confidence of those who attended the king, and amongst others of lord Falkland, whose notice cast a lustre on all to whom it was extended. About the time when Oxford was surrendered to the parliament, he followed the queen to Paris, where he became secretary to the lord Jermyn, afterwards earl of St. Alban's, and was employed in such correspondence as the royal cause required, and particularly in cyphering and decyphering the letters that passed between the king and queen; an employment of the highest confidence and honour. So wide was his province of intelligence, that, for several years, it filled all his days and two or three nights in the week. In the year 1647, his Mistress was published; for he imagined, as he declared in his preface to a subsequent edition, that “poets are scarcely thought freemen of their company without paying some duties, or obliging themselves to be true to love.” This obligation to amorous ditties owes, I believe, its original to the fame of Petrarch, who, in an age rude and uncultivated, by his tuneful homage to his Laura, refined the manners of the lettered world, and filled Europe with love and poetry. But the basis of all excellence is truth: he that professes love ought to feel its power. Petrarch was a real lover, and Laura doubtless deserved his tenderness. Of Cowley, we are told by Barnes", who had means enough of information, that, whatever he may talk of his own inflammability, and the variety of characters by which his heart was divided, he in reality was in love but once, and then never had resolution to tell his passion. This consideration cannot but abate, in some measure, the reader's esteem for the work and the author. To love excellence is natural; it is natural likewise for the lover to solicit reciprocal regard by an elaborate display of his own qualifications. The desire of pleasing has in different men produced actions of heroism, and effusions of wit; but it seems as reasonable to appear the champion, as the poet, of an “airy nothing,” and to quarrel, as to write, for what Cowley might have learned from his master Pindar to call “the dream of a shadow.” - It is surely not difficult, in the solitude of a college, or in the bustle of the world, to find useful studies and serious employment. No man needs to be so burthened 3 In the first edition of this life, Dr. Johnson wrote, “which was never inserted in any collection of his works; ” but he altered the expression when the Lives were collected into volumes. The satire was added to Cowley's works by the particular direction of Dr. Johnson. N. 4 Barnesú Anacreontein. Dr. J.
with life, as to squander it in voluntary dreams of fictitious occurrences. The man, that sits down to suppose himself charged with treason or peculation, and heats his mind to an elaborate purgation of his character from crimes, which he was never within the possibility of committing, differs only by the infrequency of his folly. from him, who praises beauty which he never saw ; complains of jealousy which he never felt ; supposes himself sometimes invited, and sometimes forsaken ; fatigues his fancy, and ransacks his memory, for images which may exhibit the gaiety of hope, or the gloominess of despair; and dresses his imaginary Chloris or Phyllis sometimes in flowers fading as her beauty, and sometimes in gems lasting as her virtues.
At Paris, as secretary to lord Jermyn, he was engaged in transacting things of real importance with real men and real women, and at that time did not much employ his thoughts upon phantoms of gallantry. Some of his letters to Mr. Bennet, afterward
earl of Arlington, from April to December, in 1650, are preserved in Miscellanea.
Aulica, a collection of papers published by Brown. These letters, being written like those of other men whose minds are more on things than words, contribute no otherwise to his reputation, than as they show him to have been above the affectation
of unseasonable elegance, and to have known, that the business of a statesman can be .
little forwarded by flowers of rhetoric.
One passage, however, seems not unworthy of some notice. Speaking of the Scotch treaty, then in agitation:
“The Scotch treaty,” says he, “is the only thing now in which we are vitally concerned; I am one of the last hopers, and yet cannot now abstain from believing that an agreement will be made; all people upon the place incline to that of union. The Scotch will moderate something of the rigour of their demands; the mutual necessity of an accord is visible, the king is persuaded of it. And to tell you the truth, (which l take to be an argument above all the rest) Virgil has told the same thing to that purpose.”
This expression, from a secretary of the present time, would be considered as merely ludicrous, or at most as an ostentatious display of scholarship ; but the manners of that time were so tinged with superstition, that I cannot but suspect Cowley of
having consulted on this great occasion the Virgilian lots , and to have given some credit to the answer of his oracle.
5 Consulting the Virgilian lots, sortes Virgilianæ, is a method of divination by the opening of Virgil, and applying to the circumstances of the peruser the first passage, in either of the two pages, that he accidentally fixes his eye on. It is said, that king Charles I. and lord Falkland, being in the Bodleian
library, made this experiment of their future fortunes, and met with passages equally ominous to each. That of the king was the following:
At bello audacis populi vexatus & armis,
- - HEneid IV. 615.
Some years afterward, “business,” says Sprat, “passed of course into other hands;” and Cowley, being no longer useful at Paris, was in 1656 sent back into
England, that, “under pretence of privacy and retirement, he might take occasion of giving notice of the posture of things in this nation.”
Soon after his return to London, he was seized by some messengers of the usurping powers, who were sent out in quest of another man, and, being examined, was put
into confinement, from which he was not dismissed without the security of a thousand pounds given by Dr. Scarborough.
This year he published his poems, with a preface, in which he seems to have inserted something suppressed in subsequent editions, which was interpreted to denote some relaxation of his loyalty. In this preface he declares, that “his desire had been for some days past, and did still very vehemently continue, to retire himself to some of the American plantations, and to forsake this world for ever.” From the obloquy which the appearance of submission to the usurpers brought upon him, his biographer has been very diligent to clear him, and indeed it does not seem to have lessened his reputation. His wish for retirement we can easily believe to be undissembled : a man, harassed in one kingdom, and persecuted in another, who, after a course of business that employed all his days and half his nights in cyphering and decyphering, comes to his own country and steps into a prison, will be willing enough to retire to some place of quiet and of safety. Yet let neither
our reverence for a genius, nor our pity for a sufferer, dispose us to forget, that if his activity was virtue, his retreat was cowardice.
Yet let a race untam’d, and haughty foes,
Lord Falkland's :
He then took upon himself the character of physician, still, according to Sprat, with intention, “to dissemble the main design of his coming over;” and, as Mr. Wood relates, “ complying with the men then in power, (which was much taken notice of by the royal party) he obtained an order to be created doctor of physic; which being done to his mind, (whereby he gained the ill-will of some of his friends) he went into France again, having made a copy of verses on Oliver's death.”
This is no favourable representation, yet even in this not much wrong can be discovered. How far he complied with the men in power, is to be inquired before he can be blamed. It is not said that he told them any secrets, or assisted them by intelligence or any other act. If he only promised to be quiet, that they in whose hands he was might free him from confinement, he did what no law of society prohibits.
The man, whose miscarriage in a just cause has put him in the power of his enemy, may, without any violation of his integrity, regain his liberty, or preserve his life, by a promise of neutrality: for the stipulation gives the enemy nothing which he had not before; the neutrality of a captive may be always secured by his imprison
ment or death. He that is at the disposal of another may not promise to aid him in
any injurious act, because no power can compel active obedience. He may engage to do nothing, but not to do ill. There is reason to think, that Cowley promised little. It does not appear that his compliance gained him confidence enough to be trusted without security, for the bond of his bail was never cancelled; nor that it made him think himself secure, for, at that dissolution of government which followed the death of Oliver, he returned into France, where he resumed his former station, and staid till the Restoration. “He continued” says his biographer, “under these bonds till the general deliverance;” it is therefore to be supposed, that he did not go to France, and act again for the king, without the consent of his bondsman; that he did not show his loyalty at the hazard of his friend, but by his friend's permission. Of the verses on Oliver's death, in which Wood's narrative seems to imply something encomiastic, there has been no appearance. There is a discourse concerning his government, indeed, with verses intermixed, but such as certainly gained its author no friends among the abettors of usurpation. A doctor of physic however he was made at Oxford, in December 1657; and in
I warm'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew
What perils youthful ardour would pursue;
That boiling blood would carry thce too far,
Young as thou wert to dangers, raw to war.
O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,
Prelude of bloody fields and fights to come!
Hard elements of unauspicious war,
Vain vows to Heaven, and unavailing care!
- - DRYDEN.
Hoffman, in his Lexicon, gives a very satisfactory account of this practice of seeking fates in books:
and says that it was used by the Pagans, the Jewish rabbins, and even the early Christians, the latter taking the New Testament for their oracle. H.