Aaron Hill, 1685–1750, an English poet, dramatist, and miscellaneous writer, a native of London, is better known to the present age from his quarrels with Pope than by his literary compositions. Among other works, he pub.—1. “A History of the Ottoman Empire,” 1709. 2. “Elfrid;” a Tragedy, 1709. 3. “Camillus;” a Poem, 1709. 4, 5. “Essays on Beech Oil,” 1714–15. 6. “Essays on Coals and Grape-Wines,” 1718. 7. “King Henry the Fifth;” a Tragedy, 1723. 8. “The Northern Star;” a Poem, 1725. 9. “Advice to the Poets,” 1731. 10. “The Impartial;” a poem. 11. “The Progress of Wit; a Caveat for the use of an Eminent Writer” (a satire upon Pope, who had introduced Hill, rather in a complimentary manner, in the “Dunciad.”) 12. “Merope;” a Tragedy, from Voltaire, with alterations, 1749. His Miscellaneous Works—a collection of his best pieces—were published in 1753, 4 vols.; and his Dramatic Works (seventeen in all), with his Life, appeared in 1759, 2 vols.

Personal

  Merope will be acted on the 9th for the author’s bt.—We believe it will be sufficient to draw together a very numerous audience on this occasion to inform our readers that the Gentleman who wrote this Tragedy has been confined to his bed these 8 months past by a lingering and consuming illness; and this only favour which he is to receive from the public, will in all probability be the last.

  His person was (in youth) extremely fair, and handsome; his eyes were a dark blue, both bright and penetrating; brown hair and visage oval; which was enlivened with a smile, the most agreeable in conversation; where his address was affably engaging; to which was joined a dignity which rendered him at once respected and admired, by those (of either sex) who were acquainted with him—He was tall, genteelly made, and not thin.—His voice was sweet, his conversation elegant; and capable of entertaining upon various subjects.—His disposition was benevolent, beyond the power of the fortune he was blessed with; the calamities of those he knew (and valued as deserving) affected him more than his own: He had fortitude of mind sufficient to support with calmness great misfortune; and from his birth it may be truly said he was obliged to meet it…. His temper, though by nature warm (when injuries were done him) was as nobly forgiving; mindful of that great lesson in religion, of returning good for evil; and he fulfilled it often to the prejudice of his own circumstances. He was a tender husband, friend, and father; one of the best masters to his servants, detesting the too common inhumanity, that treats them almost as if they were not fellow-creatures. His manner of life was temperate in all respects (which might have promis’d greater length of years) late hours excepted; which his indefatigable love of study drew him into; night being not liable to interruptions like the day.

  Mr. Hill in person was tall and genteel; in advanced life, his figure, air, and manner, were gracefully venerable; with a warm and benevolent mind, he had the delicate address and polite manners of the complete gentleman.

  Few men have so completely mistaken their own abilities as Mr. Hill, who did every thing he ought not to have done: in his youth an historian; in manhood he gave up the superintendence of the public amusements, an office in which he excelled, to be, in a more advanced age, a visionary and unsuccessful projector.

  One of Pope’s Literary Quarrels must be distinguished for its romantic cast…. Where, in literary history, can be found the parallel of such an offer of self-immolation? This was a literary quarrel like that of lovers, where to hurt each other would have given pain to both parties. Such skill and desire to strike, with so much tenderness in inflicting a wound; so much compliment, with so much complaint; have perhaps never met together, as in the romantic hostility of this literary chivalry.

  He was reconciled to Pope, and taught the poor poet by experience that his friendship was worse than his enmity. He wrote his letters of criticism; he forced poor Pope to negotiate for him with managers and to bring distinguished friends to the performances of his dreary plays; nay, to read through, or to say that he had read through, one of them in manuscript four times, and made corrections mixed with elaborate eulogy. No doubt Pope came to regard a letter from Hill with terror, though Hill compared him to Horace and Juvenal, and hoped that he would live till the virtues which his spirit would propagate became as general as the esteem of his genius. In short, Hill, who was a florid flatterer, is so complimentary that we are not surprised to find him telling Richardson, after Pope’s death, that the poet’s popularity was due to a certain “bladdery swell of management.” “But,” he concludes, “rest his memory in peace! It will very rarely be disturbed by that time he himself is ashes.”

  Hill, though he must be ranked among the literary failures of his age, was a man of some ability and vast energy, who divided his time between theatrical management, dramatic authorship, and commercial and agricultural experiments, which nearly always ended in disaster. Totally destitute of any capacity for self-criticism, he had a thorough confidence in his own powers, and firmly believed that his name would be still remembered when posterity had the sense to realise the utter worthlessness of the works of Mr. Pope.

General

  I need not assure you in many words, that I join my suffrage entirely with Lord B’s in general, after a fourth reading of your tragedy of “Cæsar.” I think no characters were ever more nobly sustained than those of Cæsar and Brutus in particular. You excel throughout in the greatness of sentiment; and I add, that I never met with more striking sentences, or lively short reprizes. There is almost everywhere such a dignity in the scenes, that instead of pointing out any one scene, I can scarce point out any that wants it, in any degree, except you would a little raise that of the plebeians in the last act. That dignity is admirably reconciled with softness, in the scenes between Cæsar and Calpurnia: and all those between Cæsar and Brutus are a noble strife between greatness and humanity.

  The play [“Merope”] is certainly the master-piece of Hill, though in many places he retains a swell expression, and an affectation of strength, which destroy all ease and grace; yet he is more natural and simple in his language, upon the whole, in this play, than in any of his dramatic compositions. The second act is finely written. The scenes between Merope and Eumenes is a beautiful exertion of genius, in describing the workings of natural affection in a son and mother unknown to each other.

  His poetry is in general both pompous and empty enough; and of all he has written, almost the only passage that is now much remembered is a satiric sketch of Pope, in a few lines which have some imitative smartness, but scarcely any higher merit.

  Although an author of very eccentric genius, whose pen was said to have treated every subject from the Creation to the Day of Judgment (both inclusive), had in him a nobility of soul which shut out anything impure or mean from his literary efforts.

  Wrote some original dramas, which entitled him, no less than his poems, to the niche he has obtained in the “Dunciad.”

  Few men indeed so well known in his own day have sunk into such insignificance in ours…. As a poet Hill has the facility in composition exhibited by so many of his contemporaries, and he has occasionally a pretty turn of fancy.

  A considerable literary dictator in his day, the name of Aaron Hill is now one of the obscurest in the annals of eighteenth century authorship.