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" profits might have been more ; but neither my conscience nor my honour “ would suffer me to take them: but I never can repent of my constancy, " since I am thoroughly persuaded of the justice of the cause for which I " suffer. It has pleased God to rise up many friends to me amongst my “ enemies, though they who ought to have been my friends are negli
gent of me. I am called to dinner, and cannot go on with this lettter, " which I desire you to excuse; and am
" Your most affectionate father,
EDMUND SMITH is one of those lucky writers who have, without
much labour, attained high reputation, and who are mentioned with reverence rather for the possession than the exertion of uncommon abilities,
Of his life little is known ; and that little claims no praise but what can be given to intellectual excellence, seldom employed to any virtuous purpose. His character, as given by Mr. Oldisworth, with all the partiality of friendship, which is said by Dr. Burton to show “ what fine things one man of “ parts can say to another,” and which, however, comprises great part of what can be known of Mr. Smith, it is better to transcribe at once, than to take by pieces. I shall subjoin such little memorials as accident has enabled me to collect.
Mr. EDMUND SMITH was the only son of an eminent merchant, one Mr. Neale, by a daughter of the famous baron Lechmere. Some misfortunes of his father, which were soon followed by his death, were the occasion of the son's being left very young in the hands of a near relation (one who married Mr. Neale's sister), whèse name was Smith.
This gentleman and his lady treated him as their own child, and put him to Westminster-school under the care of Dr. Busby, whence, after the loss of his faithful and generous guardjan (whose name he assumed and retained), he was removed to Christ-church in Oxford, and there by his aunt handecmely maintained till her death ; after which he continued a member of that learned and ingenious society, till within five years of his own; though, some time before his leaving Christ-church he was sent for by his mother to Worcester, and owned and acknowledged as her legitimate son ; which had noi been mentioned, but to wipe off the aspersions that were ignorantly cast by some on his birth. It is to be remembered for our author's honour, that, when at Wesminster election he stood a candidate for one of the universities, he so signally distinguished himself by his conspicuous performances, that there arose no small contention between the representative electors of Trinity-college in Cambridge and Christ-church in Oxon, which of those two royal societies should adopt him as their own. But the electors of Trinity-college having the preference of choice that year, they resolutely elected him; who yet, being invited at the same time to Christ-church, chose to accept of a studentship there. Mr. Smith's perfections, as well natural as acquired, seem to have been formed upon Horace's plan ; who says, in his Art of Poetry.
--Ego nec studium sine divite venâ,
He was endowed by Nature with all those excellent and necessary qualifications which are previous to the accomplishment of a great man. mory was large and tenacious, yet by a curious felicity chiefly susceptible of the finest impressions it received from the best authors he read, which ir always preserved in their primitive strength and amiable order.
He had a quickness of apprehension, and vivacity of understanding, which easily took in and surmounted the most subtle and knotty parts of mathematicks and metaphysicks. His wit was prompt and flowing, yet solid and piercing ; his taste delicate, his head clear, and his way of expressing his thouhgts perspicuous and engaging. I shall say nothing of his person, which yet was so well turned, that no neglect of himself in his dress could render it disagreeable; insomuch that the fair sex, who observed and esteemed him, at once commended and reproved him by the name of the handsome sloven. An eager but generous and noble emulation grew up with him ; which (as it were a rational sort of instinct) pushed him upon striving to excel in every art and science that could make him a credit to his college, and that college the ornament of the most learned and polite university ; and it was his happiness to have several contemporaries and fellow-students who exercised and excited this virtue in themselves and others, thereby becoming so deservedly in favour with this age, and so good a proof of its nice discernment. His judgement, naturally good, soon ripened into an exquisite fineness and distinguishing sagacity, which as it was active and busy, so it was vigorous and manly, keeping even paces with a rich and strong imagination, always upon the wing, and never tired with aspiring. Hence it was, that, though he writ as young as Cowley, he had no puerilities; and his earliest productions were so far from having any thing in them mean and trifling, that like the junior compositions of Mr. Stepney, they may make grey authors blush. There are many of his first essays in oratory, in epigram, elegy, and epique, still handed about the university in manuscript, which
shek a masterly hand; and though maimed and injured by frequent transcribing, make their way into our most celebrated miscellanies, where they shine with uncommon lustre. Besides those verses in the Oxford books, which he could not help setting his name to, several of his compositions caine abroad under other names, which his own singular modesty, and faithful silence, strove in vain to conceal. The Enconia and public Collections of the University upon State Subjects were never in such esteem, either for elegy and congratulation, as when he contributed most largely to them: and it was natural for those, who knew his peculiar way of writing, to turn to his share in the work, as by far the most relishing part of the entertainment. As his parts were extraordinary, so he well knew how to improve them; and not only to polish the diamond, but enchase it in the most solid and durable metal. Though he was an academick the greatest part of his life, yet he contracted no sourness of temper, no spice of pedantry, no itch of disputation, or obstinate contention for the old or new philosophy, no assuming way of dictating to others; which are faults (though excusable) which some are insensibly led into, who are constrained to dwell long within the walls of a private college. His conversation was pleasant and instructive; and what Horace said of Plotius, Varius, and Virgil, might justly be applied to him ;
“ Nil ego contulerim jocundo sanus Amico."
Sat. v. 1. 1.
As correct a writer as he was in his most elaborate pieces, he read the works of others with candour, and reserved his greatest severity for his owÅ compositions ; being readier to cherish and advance, than damp or depress a rising genius, and as patient of being excelled himself (if any could excel him) as industrious to excel others.
'Twere to be wished he had confined himself to a particular profession, wbo was capable of surpassing in any ; but in this, his want of application was in a great measure owing to his want of due encouragement.
He passed through the exercises of the college and university with unusual applause ; and though he often suffered his friends to call him off froin his retirements, and to lengthen out those jovial avocations, yet his return to his studies were so much the more passionate, and his intention upon those refined pleasures of reading and thinking so vehement (to which his facetious and unbended intervals bore no proportion), that the habit grew upon him, and the series of meditation and reflection being kept up whole weeks together, he could better sort his ideas, and take in the sundry parts of a science at one view, without interruption or confusion. Some indeed of his acquaintance, who were pleased to distingnish between the wit and the scholar,
extolled him altogether on the account of these titles; but others, who knew him better, could not forbear doing him justice as a prodigy in both kinds. He had signalized himself, in the schools, as a philosopher and polemick of extensive knowledge and deep penetration ; and went through all the courses with a wise regard to the dignity and importance of each'science. I remember him in the Divinity-school responding and disputing with a perspicuous energy, a ready exactness, and comiñanding force of argument, when Dr. Jane worthily presided in the chair; whose condescending and disinterested commendation of him gave him such a reputation as silenced the envious malice of his enemies, whó durst not contradict the approbation of so profound a master in theology. None of those self-sufficient creatures, who have either trifled with philosophy, by attempting to ridicule it, or have encumbered it with novel terms, and burdensome explanations, understood its real weight and purity half so well as Mr. Smith. He was too discerning to allow of the character of unprofitable, rugged, and abstruse, which some superficial sciolists (so very smooth and polite as to admit of no impression), either out of an unthinking indolence, or an ill-grounded prejudice, had affixed to this sort of studies. He knew the thorny terms of philosophy served well to fence in the true doctrines of religion ; and looked upon a school-divinity as upon a rough but well-wrought army, which might at once adorn and defend the Christian hero, and equip him for the combai.
Mr. Smith had a long and perfect intimacy with all the Greek and Latin Classicks; with whom he had carefully compared whatever was worth peTusing in the French, Spanish, and Italian, (to which languages he vras no stranger), and in all the celebrated writers of his own country. But then, according to the curious observation of the late carl of Shaftesbury, he kept the poet in awe by regular criticism; and, as it were, married the two arts for their mutual support and improvement. There was not a tract of credit, upon that subject, which he had not diligently examined, from Aristotle down to Hedelin and Bossa;, so that, having each rule constantly before him, he could carry the art through every poem, and at once point out the graces, and deformities. By this means he seemed to read with a design to correct, as well as imitate.
Being thus prepared, he could not but taste every little delicacy that was set before him; though it was impossible for him at the same time to be fed and nourished with any thing but what was substantial and lasting. He considered the ancients and moderns not as parties or rivais for fame, but as architects upon one and the same plan, the Art of Poetry; according to which he judged, approved, and blamet, without flattery or detraction. It he did not always commend the composition of others, it was not ill-nature (which was not in bis temper), but strict justice that would not let him çall