AN ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR, In a LETTER to a FRIEND.

I Don't wonder that you ſhould deſire ſo diſtinct an Account, how Stephen Duck came to write Verſes, and how he manag'd in writing them. Philoſophers find as much Subject for their Admiration in the minuteſt Bodies, as in the largeſt; and a Poet from the Barn, tho' not ſo great a Man, is as great a Curioſity, as a Dictator from the Plow. I can be particular enough as to his firſt ſetting out in Poetry; and, ſince you ſeem to deſire it, ſhall give you all the Cir⯑cumſtances I could learn from a Week's Converſation with him in all his Simplicity; without conſidering, that many of them, to a Perſon leſs curi⯑ous, might appear too trifling to be mention'd even in a Letter.

[xii] MY Friend Stephen had originally no other Teaching, than what enabled him to read, and write Engliſh; he had never taken a ſingle Step toward any other Language. As Arithmetic is generally join'd with this Degree of Learning, he had a little Share of that too. About his Fourteenth Year he was taken from School, and was afterwards ſucceſſively engag'd in the ſe⯑veral loweſt Employments of a Country Life. This laſted for ſome Years; ſo long, that he had forgot almoſt all the Arithmetic he had learn'd at School: However he read ſometimes, and thought oftener. He had a cer⯑tain Longing after Knowledge; and when he reflected within himſelf on his want of Education, he began to be particularly uneaſy, that he ſhould have forgot ſomething of what he had learnt, even at the little School he had been at. He thought of this ſo often, that at laſt he reſolv'd to try his own Strength; and, if poſſible, to recover his Arithmetic again.

HIS firſt Attempt of this kind I take to have been about Six Years ago. Conſidering the Difficulties the poor Fellow lay under, this Inclination for Knowledge muſt have been very ſtrong in him. He was then marry'd, and at Service; he had little Time to ſpare; he had no Books, and no Money to get any: But he was reſolv'd to go thro' with it; and accordingly us'd to work more than other Day-labourers, and by that means got ſome little matter added to his Pay. This Overplus was at his own Diſpoſal. With this he bought firſt a Book of Vulgar Arithmetic, then one of Decimal, and a third of Meaſuring of Land; all which by degrees he made himſelf a to⯑lerable Maſter of, in thoſe Hours he could ſteal from his Sleep, after the Labours of the Day.

WHERE there was ſuch a Deſire for Knowledge, there muſt be good Senſe at bottom, and a Soul, at leaſt, ſomewhat above the common Con⯑verſation he muſt meet with in his poor State of Life. I have ask'd him, whom he had that he could talk and converſe with in the Country; and was pleas'd to find him, in this Particular, happier than I expected. He ſaid, he had one dear Friend, that he mention'd with uncommon Affection. They us'd to talk and read together, when they could ſteal a little Time for it. This Friend had been in a Service at London for two or three Years: He had an Inclination to Books; he had purchas'd ſome, and brought 'em down with him into the Country; and Stephen had always the Uſe of his little Library; which by this Time, poſſibly, may be increas'd to two or three dozen of Books. This Friend knew no more out of Engliſh than Stephen; but by talking together they mutually improv'd each other. Ste⯑phen [xiii] is all Simplicity: He ſays, ‘"That his Friend can talk better than he, as having been more us'd to Company; but that he himſelf has been more us'd to Poetry, and in that can do better than his Friend."’

HAD it not been for this, Stephen muſt have been plac'd in the ſame Claſs with Hai Ebn Yokdhan, and the young Hermes in Mr. Ramſay's Cyrus: But the Story of their Improvements without any Aſſiſtance agrees only with Romances; and you know, what I am writing to you is a true Hiſtory. Our retir'd Philoſopher had his Friend; and it ſeems to have been the greateſt Happineſs of his Life, that he had one. They did not only read, but reaſon'd over Points together; and I have ſometimes thought, how agreeable a thing it would have been, to have been conceal'd within hearing of them, when they were in the midſt of ſome of their moſt knotty Debates. We may imagine 'em both to have had good natural Senſe, and a few good Books in common between 'em: Their Minds were their own; neither improv'd, nor ſpoil'd, by laying in a Stock of Learning: They were perhaps equally well inclin'd to learn, both ſtruggling for a little Knowledge; and, like a Couple of Rowers on the ſame Bottom, while they were only ſtriving perhaps, which ſhould out do his Companion, they were really each helping the other, and driving the Boat on the faſter.

PERHAPS you would be willing to know what Books their little Library conſiſted of. I need not mention thoſe of Arithmetic again, nor his Bible: Milton, the Spectators, and Seneca, were his firſt Favourites; Telemachus, with another Piece by the ſame Hand, and Addiſon's Defence of Chriſtia⯑nity, his next. They had an Engliſh Dictionary, and a ſort of Engliſh Grammar, an Ovid of long Standing with them, and a Bysſhe's Art of Po⯑etry of later Acquiſition: Seneca's Morals had made the Name of L'Eſtrange dear to them; and, as I imagine, might occaſion their getting his Joſephus in Folio, which was the largeſt Purchace in their Collection: They had one Volume of Shakeſpear with Seven of his Plays in it. Beſide theſe, Stephen had read Three or Four other Plays; ſome of Epictetus, Waller, Dryden's Virgil, Prior, Hudibras, Tom Brown, and the London Spy. You may ſee I am a faithful Hiſtorian, by my giving you the Bad with the Good.

WITH theſe Helps Stephen is grown ſomething of a Poet, and ſome⯑thing of a Philoſopher. I find by him, that from his Infancy, he has had a Caſt in his Mind toward Poetry. He has delighted, as far back as he can remember, in Verſes, and in Singing. He ſpeaks of ſtrange Emotions, that he has felt on the top Performances of the little Choir of Songſters in [xii] [...] [xiii] [...] [xiv] a Country Chancel; and mentions his firſt hearing of an Organ, as a re⯑markable Epocha of his Life. He ſeems to be a pretty good Judge too of a muſical Line; but I imagine, that he does not hear Verſes in his own Mind, as he repeats them. I don't know whether you underſtand me. I mean, that his Ideas of the Notes in a Verſe, and his Manner of repeating the ſame Verſe, are often different: For he points out an harmonious Line well enough; and yet he generally ſpoils its Harmony by his way of ſpeaking it.

WHAT firſt gave him a higher Taſte of Poetry, than he had been us'd to, was Milton's Paradiſe Loſt. This came oddly enough into his Hands; and when I ſee you, I'll tell you the Hiſtory of it. Stephen read it over twice or thrice with a Dictionary, before he could underſtand the Language of it thoroughly. This, and a ſort of Engliſh Grammar they had, have been of the greateſt Uſe to him of any thing.

INDEED it ſeems plain to me, that he has got Engliſh juſt as we get Latin. He ſtudy'd Paradiſe Loſt, as others ſtudy the Claſſics. The new Beauties in that Poem, that were continually opening upon his Mind, made all his Labour eaſy to him. He work'd all Day for his Maſter; and, after the Labour of the Day, ſet to his Books at Night. The Pains he has taken for the Pleaſure of improving himſelf, are incredible; but it has anſwer'd too beyond what one could have expected; for he ſeems to underſtand ſome of the great and deeper Beauties of that Poem tolerably well; and points out ſeveral particular Beauties in it, which it requires a good nice Eye to diſcover.

'TWAS his Friend that help'd him to the Spectators; they read them often together, and often by themſelves. Stephen tells me, that he has frequently carry'd them with him to his Work. When he did ſo, his Method was to labour harder than any body elſe, that he might get half an Hour to read a Spectator, without injuring his Maſter. By this means he us'd to ſit down all over Sweat and Heat, without regarding his own Health, and often to the Prejudice of it. If this affects you, as it has me, I ought not to paſs it over, that you may not loſe the Pleaſure of ſo ſtrong an Inſtance of Honeſty and Induſtry mix'd together.

THE Spectators improv'd his Underſtanding, he ſays, more than any thing. The Copies of Verſes, ſcatter'd in thoſe Pieces, help'd on his natural Bent that way; and made him willing to try, whether he could not do ſomething like 'em. He ſometimes turn'd his own Thoughts into Verſe, while he [xv] was at Work; and at laſt begun to venture thoſe Thoughts a little on Paper. What he did of this kind, was very inconſiderable; only ſcatter'd Thoughts, and generally not above four or five Lines on the ſame Subject; which, as there was nobody thereabouts that car'd for Verſes, nor any body that could tell him whether they were good or bad, he generally flung into the Fire, as ſoon as he had pleas'd himſelf enough in reading them.

WHATEVER Care he took to burn theſe little Pieces, he found it not ſufficient to conceal them. The Thing took Air; and Stephen, who had before the Name of a Scholar among the Country People, was ſaid now to be able to write Verſes too. This was mention'd accidentally, about a Year ago, before a young Gentleman of Oxford, who ſent for Stephen; and after ſome Talk with him, deſir'd him to write him a Letter in Verſe. That Letter is the Epiſtle which ſtands the laſt in his Poems, but was the firſt whole Copy of Verſes that ever he wrote. This happen'd to fall into the Hands of ſome Clergymen in the Neighbourhood, who were very well pleas'd with it; and upon examining him, found the Man had a good deal of Merit. They gave him ſome Preſents, which, as Things ſtood then, were a great Help to him; and encourag'd him to go on as much as they could.

THIS made him proceed with more Courage: And, as he had wrote ſome ſcatter'd Verſes on Poverty, before this happen'd, he carry'd thoſe Thoughts on, and fill'd it up, as it ſtands at preſent in the printed Collection I ſend you: So that this is his ſecond Copy. I am very careful in ſettling the Chronology of his Poems, that you may ſee how he has gone on Step by Step, if you pleaſe.

THE Compoſition which was next in Order, is that on his own Labours: That Subject was given him by one of thoſe who firſt encourag'd him; and after this was finiſh'd, he was employ'd from the ſame Quarter in his Shunammite. As this exceeded any of the reſt, I think from hence we may date the Aera of his riſing in his Character and Circumſtances. Upon this it was that Per⯑ſons of Diſtinction began to ſend for him different ways. In ſhort, it got him Fame enough to be pretty trouble ſome to him at firſt; tho' it is likely to end in a much happier Settlement of him and his Affairs, than could ever have been dreamt of by him at his firſt ſetting out.

WHEN you have read his Poems, and conſider the Manner he has been bred up in, I doubt not you will think they have their Merit: But I aſſure you, they give an imperfect Idea of the Man; and, to know how much he de⯑ſerves, [xvi] one ſhould converſe with him, and hear on what Reaſons he omitted ſuch a Part, and introduc'd another; why he ſhortens his Style in this Place, and enlarges in that; whence he has ſuch a Word, and whence ſuch an Idea. I'll give you all I can recollect of this kind, in relation to what is generally reckon'd the beſt Thing he has wrote, The Shunammite.

IN the firſt Place, I found upon Inquiry, that he wrote by a Plan; he thought over all the Parts, as he intended to uſe them, before he made the Verſes. For a Poem of any Length, no doubt 'tis as neceſſary to do this, as it is to have a Draught of a Houſe, before you go to building it; and yet I believe, the common Run of our Poets have generally thought themſelves above it, or not thought of it at all. Tho' the Shunammite was written on a Story given to his hand, ſtill ſomething of this kind was convenient enough; becauſe, in forming it anew, he did not make uſe of all the Materials before him, and has brought in ſome of his own. He thought, the Stretching of the Prophet in ſo particular a manner, muſt ſound ſtrange. The Woman introduc'd to tell her Story, is a new Caſt of his own; ſo is her Doubting, and then Confirming herſelf again, by a particular Induction of all Eliſha's Miracles; ſo the Bringing an Audience about her, and their Chorus's, when they join together in congratulating her Happineſs; the laſt of which cloſes the Poem in a good proper manner.

UPON being ask'd, Why he introduc'd a Perſon to tell all the Story in the Shunammite, and why he could not as well tell it himſelf; he ſaid, he had read Prior's Solomon; and that, in reading it, Solomon's ſpeaking every thing touch'd him particularly. He was then ask'd, ſince it was to be ſpoken, why he did not rather chuſe the Prophet, as the Perſon of the greater Dig⯑nity, to ſpeak it. He ſaid to this, That the Woman was to be pity'd; That there ſeem'd to him to be Such as theſe: ‘Ver. 16. And ſhe ſaid; Nay, my Lord, thou Man of God, do not tye unto thy Handmaid.’ ‘Ver. 28. Did I deſire a Son of my Lord? Did I not ſay, Do not deceive me?’ſome Expreſſions of the Woman in the Hiſtory, which, if not omitted, might leſſen our Regard and Compaſſion for her; That, if the Prophet had related the Thing, he could not have omitted a Word; but when the Woman did, ſhe might well be allow'd to ſoften her own Caſe; and to drop, when ſhe was cool, any thing wrong, that ſhe had ſaid in the Violence of her Grief and Paſſion. This is rather fuller in Words than he expreſs'd it; but nothing, I think, is added to his Meaning.

[xvii] AS Milton had been his favourite Poet, you may wonder why none of his Pieces are in blank Verſe. I ask'd him about this too: Upon which he told me, That he had originally written the whole Shunammite in blank Verſe; That, upon reading it over, he found his Language was not ſublime enough for it; and that therefore he was forc'd to write it all over again, and turn it into Rhyme.

UPON reading over the Chapter and his Poem together, you will ſee how juſtly he ſhortens and enlarges ſome of the particular Paſſages, in order to adapt them the more to Poetry. Beſides ſome Things already mention'd, he drops ſeveral little Circumſtances in itSee 2 Kings, Chap. iv. Verſes 10, 12, 14, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 34, and 35.. On the other hand, he enlarges on the Line 33 to 49.Contentedneſs and Charities of the Woman; on the 55, &c.Look and Attitude of the Prophet; on her 76.Thanks for bearing a Son; on 112 to 134.the Death of the Child; on the 152, &c. See 205.Reaſons of her Confidence in the Prophet; in 211.pointing out the Prophet, when ſhe comes to him; and in 219.his Anſwer; in her 232.preſſing the Prophet more earneſtly to aſſiſt her; in 246.pointing out the dead Child; his being 258.freed from Death; and her Thoughts 266.upon receiving him again into her Arms.

'TIS agreeable to ſee what Uſe he has made of the little Reading he can have had, and how he has improv'd the Thing, by obſerving ſome good Strokes in the Books he has met with. Upon my telling him, that I lik'd nothing better in it, than his altering From Line 55 to 63.the Prophet's Countenance as he does; he ſaid, he took that Hint from Telemachus; where the young Prince comes to Idomeneus's Court, while they are ſacrificing. The Prieſt, on ſeeing Telemachus, breaks off from what he was about, aſſumes a more inſpir'd Air, and begins ſpeaking of his future Fortunes. This Alteration of the Prophet's Countenance, Stephen ſays, he took from thence; but that at the ſame time he thought himſelf oblig'd to drop the Wildneſs and Enthuſiaſm of it, in order to adapt it more to the Nature of a true Prophet.

THE Chorus in the Cloſe of the Shunammite, he ſaid, was brought into his Mind by the Paradiſe Loſt, Book 7. Line 565, and 602.general Rejoicing of the Angels in Milton, upon God's [xviii] finiſhing the Creation of the World. The firſt Chorus was not in the Work originally; he inſerted it, when he new-form'd it all into Rhyme.

HE had alſo been very careful as to ſingle Words; and had Authorities to produce in ſeveral little Particulars, where one would not expect it. For The Shunammite, Ver. 210. flow'ry Carmel, he quotes Mr. Pope; and the Prophet's Arbour on the Top of that Mount is cover'd with 212. Vines, on the Authority of Mr. Sandys in his Travels: For the Words 177, and 249. aduſt and ſupernal, he refers to Milton: 56. Fanatic he uſes according to the true, and not the vulgar Senſe of the Word; he had learn'd the proper Meaning of it from his Dictionary: 143. Dilated Heart, as ſpoken of Sorrow, is certainly a Fault; but it is a Fault that Stephen was naturally enough led into by the common Notion and Expreſſions in the Country, of the Heart's ſwelling and being ready to burſt with Grief.

HE owns his Faults very readily; and if he thinks a Line of his better than ordinary, he will ſay ſo without any Reſerve. He ſeems to be exceedingly open and honeſt in every thing he ſays; and 'twould be very difficult for you to be with him a Week, as I have been, without going away very much his Friend.

THO' I have been ſo long in ſhewing you how critically he has proceeded as to his own Works; I ſhall add ſome of his Thoughts on the Works of others, to give you as full an Idea of him as I can.

'TIS not yet three Years ago that he firſt met with Milton; and I believe, that was the firſt Poet of real Value, that he ever ſtudy'd in earneſt. He has aſſur'd me, with all his Innocence and Simplicity, that when he came after⯑wards to read Addiſon's Criticiſms on Milton in the Spectators, 'twas a high Pleaſure to him to find many Things mention'd there, in the Praiſe of Milton, exactly as he had before thought in reading him. Here we muſt depend on his Credit, which I need not tell you with me is very good.

THE Name of Milton, whom he admires and dotes on ſo particularly, has not prevail'd on him enough to make him like his Paradiſe Regain'd. In ſpeaking of theſe two Poems, he ſaid, ‘"he wonder'd how Milton could write ſo incomparably well, where he had ſo little to lead him; and ſo very poorly, where he had more."’

[xix] THE Spectators, you know, he has read with great Pleaſure, and great Improvement. I remember particularly, that on ſomebody's calling them Proſe, he ſaid, ‘"'Twas true, they were Proſe; but there was ſomething in 'em, that pleas'd almoſt like Verſe."’—He mention'd, with more Regard than uſual, the critical Papers on Wit, thoſe on Milton, the Juſtum & tenacem from Horace, Mr. Pope's Meſſiah, and the ſeveral ſcatter'd ones written in the Cauſe of Virtue and Religion.

UPON asking him what Plays he had read, he nam'd particularly Julius Caeſar, Hamlet, Cato, Venice Preſerv'd, and the Orphan. Venice Pre⯑ſerv'd, he ſaid, gave him the moſt Horror; a Word which I took notice he us'd ſometimes for Sorrow, and ſometimes in its proper Senſe: He could not bear the comic Parts in it. Hamlet he lik'd better than Julius Caeſar; and in Hamlet pointed out that celebrated Speech, To be, or not to be, &c. as having been his favourite Part, merely of his own Taſte. He did not admire Shakeſpear's Comedy; and ſaid, ‘"He was too high, and too low."’ I read over to him ſome of Hamlet, and the celebrated Speeches of Antony to the People in Julius Caeſar. He trembled, as I read the Ghoſt's Speech; and admir'd the Speeches and Turns in the Mob round Caeſar's Body, more, he ſaid, than ever he had done before. As I was reading to him, I obſerv'd that his Countenance chang'd often in the moſt moving Parts: His Eye was quick and buſy all the time; and, to ſay the Truth, I never ſaw Applauſe, or the ſhifting of proper Paſſions, appear ſo ſtrongly in any Face as in his.

HE had formerly read Tom Brown's Letters from the Dead, and the London Spy, not without ſome Pleaſure; but, after he had been ſome time converſant with the Spectators, he ſaid, ‘"He did not care much to look into them."’ He ſpoke of Hudibras in another manner; he ſaw a great deal of Wit in it, and was particularly pleas'd with the Conjurer's Part in that Poem: But, after all, 'tis not a Manner of writing that he can ſo ſin⯑cerely delight in, as in the Moral, the Paſſionate, or the Sublime.

INDEED what every body ſeems to admire him for, is, that he ſeems to have an excellent moral Turn in his Thoughts. He is, as I told you before, ſomething of a Philoſopher; and, what is better than a Philoſopher, a good honeſt-hearted Man. He has read, and ſpeaks highly of, the Archbiſhop of Cambray's Demonſtration of the Being of a God, and Mr. Addiſon's Defence of the Chriſtian Religion. He ſaid, ‘"That they touch'd his Mind; and that nothing did ſo well, as when one's Reaſon is mov'd by what is ſaid."’ [xx] He had lik'd the little he had read of Epictetus; but 'twas Seneca that had made him happy in his own Mind. He ſeems as yet not to be hurt at all by any Applauſes that have been given him, and to have been perfectly con⯑tented with his Condition before: When he had only receiv'd ſome Pre⯑ſents from Gentlemen in the Country, he was quite eaſy as to his Circum⯑ſtances. The only Thing then, that he was ſolicitous about, was, how he might ſucceed as to the Poetry he ſhould be employ'd in. This was his chief Concern: But even this ſeem'd to proceed not ſo much from any Deſire of Fame, as from a Principle of Gratitude; or, as he expreſs'd it, his Longing to pleaſe thoſe Friends that had been ſo generous to him. He was not lifted up with the Character ſome People gave him, and talk'd of Fame abſolutely like a Philoſopher. After his beſt Fortune, many of his Friends told him the Danger of being vain; and, if he ſhould once be ſo, that he would be as much deſpis'd as he had been applauded. He ſaid, ‘"That he could not well tell what they meant; That he did not know what it was to be vain: But, ſince ſo many great Men, who knew the World ſo much better than he did, were apprehenſive for him on that head, he began to be terribly alarm'd at his Danger, tho' he had no ſettled Ideas of what it was."’ He was told upon this, That he ſhould never ſpeak too highly in Praiſe of the Poems he had written. He ſaid, ‘"If that was all, he was ſafe; that was a Thing he could never do, for he could not think highly of them: Gentlemen indeed, he ſaid, might like 'em, becauſe they were made by a poor Fellow in a Barn; but that he knew, as well as any body, that they were not really good in themſelves."’

THUS, Sir, I have obey'd your Commands as faithfully as I am able. You deſir'd me not to ſpare Paper; but to ſend you a Book rather than a Letter. You ſee I have taken you at your Word; and that I am reſolv'd, in this, as well as in every thing elſe, to ſhew you how punctually I would ever be,