John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  The two companies of players, after a long and expensive warfare, had now united their forces; on which occasion Dryden furnished them with a prologue, full of violent Tory principles. By this united company “The Duke of Guise” was performed on the 30th December 1682. It was printed with a dedication to Hyde, Earl of Rochester, subscribed by both authors, but evidently the work of Dryden. It is written in a tone of defiance to the Whig authors, who had assailed the dedicators, it alleges, “like footpads in the dark,” though their blows had done little harm, and the objects of their malice yet lived to vindicate their loyalty in open day. The play itself has as determined a political character as the dedication. Besides the general parallel between the leaguers and the fanatical sectaries, and the more delicate, though not less striking, connection between the story of Guise and of Monmouth, there are other collateral allusions in the piece to the history of that unfortunate nobleman, and to the state of parties. The whole character of Marmoutiere, high-spirited, loyal, and exerting all her influence to deter Guise from the prosecution of his dangerous schemes, corresponds to that of Anne, Duchess of Monmouth. The love too which the king professes to Marmoutiere, and which excites the jealousy of Guise, may bear a remote and delicate allusion to that partiality which the Duke of York is said to have entertained for the wife of his nephew. The amiable colours in which Marmoutiere is painted, were due to the Duchess of Monmouth, Dryden’s especial patroness. Another more obvious and more offensive parallel existed between the popular party in the city, with the Whig sheriffs at their head, and that of the Echevins, or sheriffs of Paris, violent demagogues and adherents to the League, and who, in the play, are treated with great contumely by Grillon and the royal guards. The tumults which had taken place at the election of these magistrates were warm in the recollection of the city; and the commitment of the ex-sheriffs, Shute and Pilkington, to the Tower, under pretext of a riot, was considered as the butt of the poet’s satire. Under these impressions the Whigs made a violent opposition to the representation of the piece, even when the king gave it his personal countenance. And although, in despite of them, “The Duke of Guise” so far succeeded, as “to be frequently acted, and never without a considerable attendance,” we may conclude from these qualified expressions of the author himself, that the play was never eminently popular. He, who writes for a party, can only please at most one half of his audience.

  It was not to be expected that, at a time so very critical, a public representation, including such bold allusions, or rather parallels, should pass without critical censure. “The Duke of Guise” was attacked by Dryden’s old foe Shadwell, in some verses, entitled, “A Lenten Prologue refused by the Players;” and more formally, in “Reflections on the pretended Parallel in the Play called the Duke of Guise.” In this pamphlet Shadwell seems to have been assisted by a gentleman of the Temple, so zealous for the popular cause, that Dryden says he was detected disguised in a livery-gown, proffering his vote at the Common-hall. Thomas Hunt, a barrister, likewise stepped forth on this occasion; and in his “Defence of the Charter of London,” then challenged by the famous process of Quo Warranto, he accuses Dryden of having prepared the way for that arbitrary step, by the degrading representation of their magistrates executed in effigy upon the stage. Dryden thought these pamphlets of consequence enough to deserve an answer, and published, soon after, “The Vindication of the Duke of Guise.” In perusing the controversy, we may admire two circumstances, eminently characteristical of the candour with which such controversies are usually maintained: First, the anxiety with which the critics labour to fix upon Dryden a disrespectful parallel between Charles II. and Henry II. [III.] of France, which certainly our author did not propose to carry farther than their common point of situation; and secondly, the labour with which he disavows what he unquestionably did intend, — a parallel between the rebellious conduct of Monmouth and of Guise. The Vindication is written in a tone of sovereign contempt for the adversaries, particularly for Shadwell. Speaking of Thomas Hunt, Dryden says,— “Even this their celebrated writer knows no more of style and English than the Northern dictator; as if dulness and clumsiness were fatal to the name of Tom. It is true, he is a fool in three languages more than the poet; for, they say, ‘he understands Latin, Greek, and Hebrew,’ from all which, to my certain knowledge, I acquit the other. Og may write against the king, if he pleases, so long as he drinks for him, and his writings will never do the government so much harm, as his drinking does it good; for true subjects will not be much perverted by his libels; but the wine-duties rise considerably by his claret. He has often called me an atheist in print; I would believe more charitably of him, and that he only goes the broad way, because the other is too narrow for him. He may see, by this, I do not delight to meddle with his course of life, and his immoralities, though I have a long bead-roll of them. I have hitherto contented myself with the ridiculous part of him, which is enough, in all conscience, to employ one man; even without the story of his late fall at the Old Devil, where he broke no ribs, because the hardness of the stairs could reach no bones; and, for my part, I do not wonder how he came to fall, for I have always known him heavy: the miracle is, how he got up again. I have heard of a sea captain as fat as he, who, to escape arrests, would lay himself flat upon the ground, and let the bailiffs carry him to prison, if they could. If a messenger or two, nay, we may put in three or four, should come, he has friendly advertisement how to escape them. But to leave him, who is not worth any further consideration, now I have done laughing at him, — would every man knew his own talent, and that they, who are only born for drinking, would let both poetry and prose alone!” This was the last distinct and prolonged animadversion which our author bestowed upon his corpulent antagonist.

  Soon after this time Dryden wrote a biographical preface to Plutarch’s Lives, of which a new translation, by several hands, was in the press. The dedication is addressed to the Duke of Ormond, the Barzillai of “Absalom and Achitophel,” whom Charles, after a long train of cold and determined neglect, had in emergency recalled to his favour and his councils. The first volume of Plutarch’s Lives, with Dryden’s Life of the author, appeared in 1683.

  About the same time, the king’s express command engaged Dryden in a work, which may be considered as a sort of illustration of the doctrines laid down in the “Vindication of the Duke of Guise.” It was the translation of Maimbourg’s “History of the League,” expressly composed to draw a parallel between the Huguenots of France and the Leaguers, as both equal enemies of the monarchy. This comparison was easily transferred to the sectaries of England, and the association proposed by Shaftesbury. The work was published with unusual solemnity of title-page and frontispiece; the former declaring that the translation was made by his Majesty’s command; the latter representing Charles on his throne, surrounded by emblems expressive of hereditary and indefeasible right. The dedication to the king contains sentiments which savour strongly of party violence, and even ferocity. The forgiving disposition of the king is, according to the dedicator, the encouragement of the conspirators. Like Antaeus they rise refreshed from a simple overthrow. “These sons of earth are never to be trusted in their mother element; they must be hoisted into the air, and strangled.” Thus exasperated were the most gentle tempers in these times of doubt and peril. The rigorous tone adopted, confirms the opinion of those historians who observe, that, after the discovery of the Rye-house Plot, Charles was fretted out of his usual debonair ease, and became more morose and severe than had been hitherto thought consistent with his disposition.

  This translation was to be the last service which Dryden was to render his good-humoured, selfish, and thoughtless patron. While the laureate was preparing for the stage the opera of “Albion and Albanius,” intended to solemnise the triumph of Charles over the Whigs, or, as the author expressed it, the double restoration of his sacred Majesty, the king died of an apoplexy upon the 6th February 1684-5. His death opened to many, and to Dryden among others, new hopes, and
new prospects, which were, in his instance, doomed to terminate in disappointment and disgrace. We may therefore pause, and review the private life of the poet during the period which has occupied our last Sections.

  The vigour and rapidity with which Dryden poured forth his animated satire, plainly intimates, that his mind was pleased with the exercise of that formidable power. It was more easy for him, he has himself told us, to write with severity, than with forbearance; and indeed, where is the expert swordsman, who does not delight in the flourish of his weapon? Neither could this self-complacent feeling be much allayed, by the vague and abusive ribaldry with which his satire was repaid. This was natural to the controversy, was no more than he expected and was easily retorted with terrible interest. “As for knave,” says he, “and sycophant and rascal, and impudent, and devil, and old serpent, and a thousand such good morrows, I take them to be only names of parties; and could return murderer, and cheat, and whig-napper, and sodomite; and, in short, the goodly number of the seven deadly sins, with all their kindred and relations, which are names of parties too; but saints will be saints in spite of villainy.” With such feelings, we may believe Dryden’s rest was little disturbed by the litter of libels against him: —

  ”Sons of a day just buoyant on the flood,

  Then numbered with the puppies in the mud.”

  But he who keenly engages in political controversy must not only encounter the vulgar abuse, which he may justly contemn, but the altered eye of friends, whose regard is chilled, or alienated. That Dryden sustained such misfortune we cannot doubt, when he informs us, that, out of the large party in opposition, comprehending, doubtless, many men of talent and eminence, who were formerly familiar with him, he had, during the course of a whole year, only spoken to four, and to those but casually and cursorily, and only to express a wish, that the times might come when the names of Whig and Tory might be abolished, and men live together as they had done before they were introduced.

  Neither did the protecting zeal of his party-friends compensate for the loss of those whom Dryden had alienated in their service. True it is, that a host of Tory rhymers came forward with complimentary verses to the author of “Absalom and Achitophel,” and of “The Medal.” But of all payment, that in kind is least gratifying to a poverty-struck bard, and the courtly patrons of Dryden were in no haste to make him more substantial requital. A gratuity of an hundred broad pieces is said to have been paid him by Charles for one of his satires; but no permanent provision was made for him. He was coolly left to increase his pittance by writing occasional pieces; and it was probably with this view that he arranged for publication a miscellaneous collection of poetry, which he afterwards continued. It was published for Tonson in 1683-4, and contained several versions of Epistles from Ovid, and translations of detached pieces of Virgil, Horace, and Theocritus, with some smaller pieces by Dryden himself, and a variety of poems by other hands. The Epistles had appeared in 1680, in a version of the original by several hands, to which Dryden also contributed an introductory discourse on translation. Contrary to our author’s custom, the miscellany appeared without either preface or dedication.

  The miscellany, among other minor poems of Dryden, contained many of his occasional prologues and epilogues, the composition of which his necessity had rendered so important a branch of income, that, in the midst of his splendour of satirical reputation, the poet was obliged to chaffer about the scanty recompence which he drew from such petty sources. Such a circumstance attended the commencement of his friendship with Southerne. That poet then opening his dramatic career with the play of the “Loyal Brother,” came, as was usual, to request a prologue from Dryden, and to offer him the usual compliment of five guineas. But the laureate demurred, and insisted upon double the sum, “not out of disrespect,” he added, “to you, young man; but the players have had my goods too cheap.” Hence Southerne, who was peculiarly fortunate in his dramatic revenue, is designed by Pope as

  ”Tom sent down to raise

  The price of prologues and of plays.”

  It may seem surprising that Dryden should be left to make an object of such petty gains, when, labouring for the service of government, he had in little more than twelve months produced both Parts of “Absalom and Achitophel,” “The Medal,” “Mac-Flecknoe,” “Religio Laici” and “The Duke of Guise.” But this was not the worst; for, although his pension as poet-laureate was apparently all the encouragement which he received from the crown, so ill-regulated were the finances of Charles, so expensive his pleasures, and so greedy his favourites, that our author, shortly after finishing these immortal poems, was compelled to sue for more regular payment of that very pension, and for a more permanent provision, in the following affecting Memorial, addressed to Hyde, Earl of Rochester:— “I would plead,” says he, “a little merit, and some hazards of my life from the common enemies; my refusing advantages offered by them, and neglecting my beneficial studies, for the king’s service; but I only think I merit not to starve. I never applied myself to any interest contrary to your lordship’s; and, on some occasions, perhaps not known to you, have not been unserviceable to the memory and reputation of my lord, your father. After this, my lord, my conscience assures me, I may write boldly, though I cannot speak to you. I have three sons, growing to man’s estate. I breed them all up to learning, beyond my fortune; but they are too hopeful to be neglected, though I want. Be pleased to look on me with an eye of compassion: some small employment would render my condition easy. The king is not unsatisfied of me; the duke has often promised me his assistance; and your lordship is the conduit through which their favours pass. Either in the customs, or the appeals of the excise, or some other way, means cannot be wanting, if you please to have the will. ’Tis enough for one age to have neglected Mr. Cowley, and starved Mr. Butler; but neither of them had the happiness to live till your lordship’s ministry. In the meantime, be pleased to give me a gracious and a speedy answer to my present request of half a year’s pension for my necessities. I am going to write somewhat by his Majesty’s command, and cannot stir into the country for my health and studies till I secure my family from want.”

  We know that this affecting remonstrance was in part successful; for long afterwards, he says, in allusion to this period, “Even from a bare treasury, my success has been contrary to that of Mr. Cowley; and Gideon’s fleece has there been moistened, when all the ground was dry.” But in the admission of this claim to the more regular payment of his pension, was comprehended all Rochester’s title to Dryden’s gratitude. The poet could not obtain the small employment which he so earnestly solicited; and such was the recompense of the merry monarch and his counsellors, to one whose productions had strengthened the pillars of his throne, as well as renovated the literary taste of the nation.

  SECTION VI.

  Threnodia Augustalis — Albion and Albanius — Dryden becomes a Catholic — The Controversy of Dryden with Stillingfleet — The Hind and Panther — Life of St. Francis Xavier — Consequences of the Revolution to Dryden — Don Sebastian — King Arthur — Cleomenes — Love Triumphant.

  The accession of James II. to the British throne excited new hopes in all orders of men. On the accession of a new prince, the loyal looked to rewards, the rebellious to amnesty. The Catholics exulted in beholding one of their persuasion attain the crown after an interval of two centuries; the Church of England expected the fruits of her unlimited devotion to the royal line; even the sectaries might hope indulgence from a prince whose religion deviated from that established by law as widely as their own. All, therefore, hastened, in sugared addresses, to lament the sun which had set, and hail the beams of that which had arisen. Dryden, among other expectants, chose the more honourable of these themes; and in the “Threnodia Augustalis,” at once paid a tribute to the memory of the deceased monarch, and decently solicited the attention of his successor. But although he had enjoyed personal marks of the favour of Charles, they were of a nature too unsubstantial to demand a deep tone of s
orrow. “Little was the muses’ hire, and light their gain;” and “the pension of a prince’s praise” is stated to have been all their encouragement. Dryden, therefore, by no means sorrowed as if he had no hope; but, having said all that was decently mournful over the bier of Charles, tuned his lyrics to a sounding close in praise of James.

  About the same time, Dryden resumed, with new courage, the opera of “Albion and Albanius,” which had been nearly finished before the death of Charles. This was originally designed as a masque, or emblematical prelude to the play of “King Arthur;” for Dryden, wearied with the inefficient patronage of Charles, from whom he only “received fair words,” had renounced in despair the task of an epic poem, and had converted one of his themes, that of the tale of Arthur, into the subject of a romantic drama. As the epic was to have been adapted to the honour and praise of Charles and his brother, the opera had originally the same political tendency. “Albion and Albanius” was a sort of introductory masque, in which, under a very thin veil of allegory, first, the restoration of the Stuarts to the throne, and, secondly, their recent conquest over their Whig opponents, were successively represented. The death of Charles made little alteration in this piece: it cost but the addition of an apotheosis; and the opera concluded with the succession of James to the throne, from which he had been so nearly excluded. These topics were however temporary; and, probably from the necessity of producing it while the allusions were fresh and obvious, “Albion and Albanius” was detached from “King Arthur,” which was not in such a state of forwardness. Great expense was bestowed in bringing forward this piece, and the scenery seems to have been unusually perfect; particularly, the representation of a celestial phenomenon, actually seen by Captain Gunman of the navy, whose evidence is quoted in the printed copies of the play. The music of “Albion and Albanius” was arranged by Grabut, a Frenchman, whose name does not stand high as a composer. Yet Dryden pays him some compliments in the preface of the piece, which were considered as derogatory to Purcel and the English school, and gave great offence to a class of persons at least as irritable as their brethren the poets. This, among other causes, seems to have injured the success of the piece. But its death-blow was the news of the Duke of Monmouth’s invasion, which reached London on Saturday, 13th June 1685, while “Albion and Albanius” was performing for the sixth time: the audience broke up in consternation, and the piece was never again repeated. This opera was prejudicial to the company, who were involved by the expense in a considerable debt, and never recovered half the money laid out. Neither was it of service to our poet’s reputation, who had, on this occasion, to undergo the gibes of angry musicians, as well as the reproaches of disappointed actors and hostile poets. One went so far as to suggest, with some humour, that probably the laureate and Grabut had mistaken their trade; the forming writing the music, and the latter the verse.