second and last child, in 1796. His hopes of a his philosophical and critical works, his praise was successor of his name and family, had probably yet higher in all the personal relations of public been revived in this youth, who exhibited many and private life. His excellence as an instructor proofs of early genius, and for some time before his may be gathered from his printed works; but it redeath had prosecuted his studies with great assi-mains to be added, that few men have exceeded duity. But here too he was compelled again to him in anxious and kind attentions to his pupils. subscribe to the uncertainty of all human pros- It was his practice, while they were under his care, pects. Great, however, as the affliction was, it to invite them by small parties to his house, and would be pleasing to be able to add that he ac- unbend his mind in gay conversation, encouraging quiesced with pious resignation, and laid hold on them to speak with familiarity on common topics, the hopes he knew so well how to recommend, and and to express their doubts with freedom on any which yet might have cheered, if not gladdened subjects connected with their studies. his declining life. But from this period he began None were more affected by his melancholy reto withdraw from society, and brooded over the treat from society, than those who could recollect sorrows of his family, until they overpowered his him in his happier days of health and hope. He feelings, and abstracted him from all the comforts had a keen relish for social intercourse, and was of friendship and all powers of consolation. Of remarkably cheerful and communicative. It has the state of his mind, Sir William Forbes has not yet been mentioned, but it may be observed given an instance so touching, that no apology from various parts of his writings, that he had a can be necessary for introducing it here. turn for humour, and a quick sense of the ridicu"The death of his only surviving child com- lous. This, however, was so chastened by the elepletely unhinged the mind of Dr. Beattie, the first gance of his taste, and the benevolence of his dissymptoms of which, ere many days had elapsed, position, that whatever fell from him of that kind was a temporary but almost total loss of memory, was devoid of coarseness or asperity. In converrespecting his son. Many times he could not re-sation he never endeavoured to gain superiority, collect what had become of him: and after search- or to compel attention, but contrived to take his ing in every room in the house, he would say to just share, without seeming to interrupt the loquahis neice, Mrs. Glennie, 'You may think it strange, city of others. He had, however, what most men but I must ask you if I have a son, and where he have who are jealous of their reputation, a degree is?" She then felt herself under the painful ne- of reserve in promiscuous company, which he encessity of bringing to his recollection his son Mon- tirely discarded among those whom he loved and tague's sufferings, which always restored him to in whom he confided. reason. And he would often, with many tears, In London it is yet remembered that his colloexpress his thankfulness that he had no child, say-quial talents were much admired, and no doubt ing, 'How could I have borne to see their clegant procured him a long continuance of those friendminds mangled with madness!" When he looked ships with men of rank, which are rarely to be for the last time, on the dead body of his son, he preserved without something more than the mere said I have now done with the world:' he ever possession of genius. His modest and engaging after seemed to act as if he thought so." manners rendered him equally acceptable to the The last three years of his life were passed in courtly and elegant Mansfield, and to the rough hopeless solitude, and he even relinquished his and unbending Johnson. To Mrs. Montague's correspondence with many of those remote friends literary parties he was ever most acceptable; and with whom he had long enjoyed the soothing in- he lived with the then bishop of London, with Sir terchange of elegant sentiment and friendly at- Joshua Reynolds, and with Mr. Burke, on terms tachment. His health, in this voluntary confine- of the easiest intimacy. If flattery could have ment, gradually decayed, and extreme and premature debility, occasioned by two paralytic strokes, terminated his good and useful life on the 18th day of August, 1803. His reputation was so Dr. Beattie's person was rather above the midwell founded and so extensive, that he was uni- dle size. His countenance was very mild, and his versally lamented as a loss to the republic of let-smile uncommonly placid and benign. His eyes ters, and particularly to the University to which were remarkably piercing and expressive, and E had been so long a public benefactor and an there was a general composure in his features honour. which Sir Joshua Reynolds has given admirably Of his general character a fair estimate may be in the picture, which has been engraven for his tormed from his works, and it is no small praise life by Sir William Forbes. hat his life and writings were in strict conformity ith each other. spoiled him, he had enough; as in England, for whatever reason, his character always stood higher even than in his own country. His frame was apparently stout, and even robust, but this certainly was not the case, Its ori Whatever reputation Dr. Beattie enjoyed from ginal conformation may have been that of strength and vigour; but he had frequent interruptions from sickness, at a very early period of life. As be advanced he discovered all the delicate and valetudinary temperament of genius. At the age of forty-five he had the walk and manner and precautions that are usually observable at sixty, and was much afflicted with head-ache, and other symptoms that are commonly called nervous. The Life of Dr. Beattie published by Sir William Forbes, exhibits him in the character of an epistolary writer. His letters embrace a very large portion of the literary history of his time, but it may be doubted whether they have always the ease and vivacity which are expected in this department of composition. THE POETICAL WORKS ОР JAMES BEATTIE, LL.D. The Minstrel; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. PREFACE. THE design was, to trace the progress of a poetical genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a Minstrel, that is, an itinerant Poet and Musician: a character which, according to the notions of our forefathers, was not only respectable, but sacred. I have endeavoured to imitate Spenser in the measure of his verse, and in the harmony, simplicity, and variety of his composition. Antique expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where they seemed to suit the subject: but I hope none will be found that are now obsolete, or in any degree not intelligible to a reader of English poetry. To those who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both simplicity and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome to the ear, will be found to hold true only when the poetry is faulty in other resperts. THE MINSTREL. Me.o primum dulces ante omnia Musa, Quarum sacra fero, ingeti perculsus amore, Accipiant.- Virg. BOOK I. I. An! who can tell how hard it is to climb Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime In life's low vale remote has pined alone, II. And yet, the languor of inglorious days Supremely blessed, if to their portion fall Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had he whose simple tale these artless lines o claim. |