CHAPTER XXVI. CONJUGAL POETRY, CONTINUED. STORY OF DR. DONNE AND HIS WIFE. My next instance of conjugal poetry is taken from the literary history of our own country, and founded on as true and touching a piece of romance as ever was taken from the page of real life. Dr. Donne, once so celebrated as a writer, now so neglected, is more interesting for his matrimonial history, and for one little poem addressed to his wife, than for all his learned, metaphysical, and theological productions. As a poet, it is probable that even readers of poetry know little of him, except from the lines at the bottom of the pages in Pope's version, or rather translation, of his Satires, the very recollection of which is enough to "set one's ears on edge," and verify Coleridge's witty and imitative couplet,― Donne-whose muse on dromedary trots,- It is this inconceivable harshness of versification, which has caused Donne to be so little read, except by those who make our old poetry their study. One of these critics has truly observed, that "there is scarce a writer in our language who has so thor oughly mixed up the good and the bad together." What is good, is the result of truth, of passion, of a strong mind, and a brilliant wit; what is bad, is the effect of a most perverse taste, and total want of harmony. No sooner has he kindled the fancy with a splendid thought, than it is as instantly quenched in a cloud of cold and obscure conceits; no sooner has he touched the heart with a feeling or sentiment, true to nature and powerfully expressed, than we are chilled or disgusted by pedantry or coarseness. The events of Donne's various life, and the romantic love he inspired and felt, make us recur to his works, with an interest and a curiosity, which, while they give a value to every beauty we can discover, render his faults more glaring-more provoking-more intolerable. In his youth he lavished a considerable fortune in dissipation, in travelling, and, it may be added, in the acquisition of great and various learning. He then entered the service of Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, as secretary. Under the same roof resided Lady Ellesmere's niece, Anne Moore, a lovely and amiable woman. She was about nineteen, and Donne was about thirty, handsome, lively, and polished by travel and study. They met constantly, and the result was a mutual attachment of the most ardent and romantic character. As they were continually together, and always in the presence of watchful relations, (“ ambushed around with household spies," as he expresses it,) it could not long be concealed. “The friends of both parties,” says Walton, "used much diligence and many arguments to kill or cool their affections for each other, but in vain;” and the lady's father, Sir George Moore, "knowing prevention to be the best part of wisdom," came up to town in all haste, and carried off his daughter into the country. But his preventive wisdom came too late; the lovers had been secretly married three weeks before. This precipitate step was perhaps excusable, from the known violence and sternness of Sir George's character. His daughter was well aware that his consent would never be voluntary; she preferred marrying without it, to marrying against it; and trusted to obtain his forgiveness when there was no remedy;—a common mode of reasoning, I believe, in such cases. Never perhaps was a youthful error of this description more bitterly punished -more deeply expiated—and so little repented of! The earl of Northumberland undertook to break the matter to Sir George, to reason with him on the subject; and to represent the excellent qualities of his son-in-law, and the duty of forgiveness, as a wise man, a father, and Christian. His intention was benevolent, and we have reason to regret that his speech or letter has not been preserved; for (such is human inconsistency!) this very Earl of Northumberland never could forgive his own daughter a similar disobedience, but followed it with *Lady Lucy Percy, afterwards the famous Countess of Carlisle, mentioned in page 285. his curse, which he was with difficulty prevailed on to retract. His mediation failed: Sir George, on learning that his precautions came too late, burst into a transport of rage, the effect of which resembled insanity. He had sufficient interest in the arbitrary court of James, to procure the imprisonment of Donne and the witnesses of his daughter's marriage; and he insisted that his brother-in-law should dismiss the young man from his office,—his only support. Lord Ellesmere yielded with extreme reluctance, saying, "he parted with such a friend and such a secretary, as were a fitter servant for a King." Donne, in sending this news to his wife, signs his name with the quaint oddity, which was so characteristic of his mind,-John Donne, Anne Donne,―undone: and undone they truly were. As soon as he was released he claimed his wife; but it was many months before they were allowed to meet. Have we for this kept guard, like spy o'er spy? Must sad divorce make us the vulgar story? * At length this unkind father in some degree relented; he suffered his daughter and her husband *Donne's Poems. to live together, but he refused to contribute to their support; and they were reduced to the greatest distress. Donne had nothing. "His wife had been curiously and plentifully educated; both their natures generous, accustomed to confer, not to receive courtesies;" and when he looked on her who was to be the partner of his lot, he was filled with such sadness and apprehension as he could never have felt for himself alone.* In this situation they were invited into the house of a generous kinsman, (Sir Francis Woolley,) who maintained them and their increasing family for several years, "to their mutual content" and undiminished friendship.† Volumes could not say more in praise of both than this singular connection :— to bestow favors, so long continued and of such magnitude, with a grace which made them sit lightly on those who received them, and to preserve, under the weight of such obligation, dignity, independence, and happiness, bespeaks uncommon greatness of spirit and goodness of heart and temper on all sides. This close and domestic intimacy was dissolved only by the death of Sir Francis, who had previously procured a kind of reconcilement with the father of Mrs. Donne, and an allowance of about eighty pounds a year. They fell again into debt, and into misery; and “doubtless," says old Walton, with a quaint, yet eloquent simplicity, "their mar *Walton's Lives. † Walton's Life of Donne.-Chalmers's Biography. |