by John Dryden
The merits of this beautiful tragedy I have attempted to analyse in another place, and at considerable length. It was brought forward in 1690 with great theatrical pomp. But with all these advantages, the first reception of “Don Sebastian” was but cool; nor was it until several retrenchments and alterations had been made, that it rose to the high pitch in public favour which it maintained for many years, and deserved to maintain for ever.
In the same year, “Amphitryon,” in which Dryden displays his comic powers to more advantage than anywhere, excepting in the “Spanish Friar,” was acted with great applause, calling forth the gratulations even of Milbourne, who afterwards made so violent an attack upon the translation of Virgil. The comedy was inscribed to Sir William Leveson Gower, whose name, well known in the history of the Revolution, may be supposed to have been invoked as a talisman against misconstructions, to which Dryden’s situation so peculiarly exposed him, and to which he plainly alludes in the prologue. Our author’s choice of this patron was probably dictated by Sir William Gower’s connection with the Earl of Rochester, whose grand-daughter he had married.
Encouraged by the revival of his popularity, Dryden now ventured to bring forward the opera of “King Arthur,” originally designed as an entertainment to Charles II; “Albion and Albanius” being written as a sort of introductory masque upon the occasion. When we consider the strong and even violent political tendency of that prefatory piece, we may readily suppose, that the opera was originally written in a strain very different from the present; and that much must have been softened, altered, and erased, ere a play, designed to gratulate the discovery of the Rye-house Plot, could, without hazard, be acted after the Revolution. The odious, though necessary, task of defacing his own labours, was sufficiently disgusting to the poet, who complains, that “not to offend the present times, nor a government which has hitherto protected me, I have been obliged so much to alter the first design, and take away so many beauties from the writing, that it is now no more what it was formerly, than the present ship of the Royal Sovereign, after so often taking down and altering is the vessel it was at the first building.” Persevering in the prudent system of seeking patrons among those whose patronage was rendered effectual by their influence with the prevailing party, Dryden prefixed to “King Arthur” a beautiful dedication to the Marquis of Halifax, to whose cautious and nice policy he ascribes the nation’s escape from the horrors of civil war, which seemed impending in the latter years of Charles II; and he has not failed, at the same time, to pay a passing tribute to the merits of his original and good-humoured master. The music of “King Arthur” being composed by Purcel, gave Dryden occasion to make that eminent musician some well-deserved compliments which were probably designed as a peace-offering for the injudicious preference given to Grabut in the introduction to “Albion and Albanius.” The dances were composed by Priest; and the whole piece was eminently successful. Its good fortune, however, was imputed, by the envious, to a lively song in the last act, which had little or nothing to do with the business of the piece. In this opera ended all the hopes which the world might entertain of an epic poem from Dryden on the subject of King Arthur.
Our author was by no means so fortunate in “Cleomenes,” his next dramatic effort. The times were something changed since the Revolution The Tories, who had originally contributed greatly to that event, had repented them of abandoning the Stuart family, and, one after another, were returning to their attachment to James. It is probable that this gave new courage to Dryden, who although upon the accession of King William he saw himself a member of an odious and proscribed sect, now belonged to a broad political faction, which a variety of events was daily increasing. Hence his former caution was diminished, and the suspicion of his enemies increased in proportion. The choice of the subject, the history of a Spartan prince exiled from his kingdom, and waiting the assistance of a foreign monarch to regain it, corresponded too nearly with that of the unfortunate James. The scene of a popular insurrection, where the minds of a whole people were inflamed, was liable to misinterpretation. In short, the whole story of the Spartan Cleomenes was capable of being wrested to political and Jacobitic purposes; and there wanted not many to aver, that to such purposes it had been actually applied by Dryden. Neither was the state of our author such at the time as to permit his pleading his own cause. The completion of the piece having been interrupted by indisposition, was devolved upon his friend Southerne, who revised and concluded the last act. The whispers of the author’s enemies in the meantime procured a prohibition, at least a suspension, of the representation of “Cleomenes” from the lord chamberlain. The exertions of Hyde, Earl of Rochester, who, although a Tory, was possessed necessarily of some influence as maternal uncle to the queen, procured a recall of this award against a play which was in every respect truly inoffensive. But there was still a more insuperable obstacle to its success. The plot is flat and unsatisfactory involving no great event, and in truth being only the question, whether Cleomenes should or should not depart upon an expedition, which appears far more hazardous than remaining where he was. The grave and stoical character of the hero is more suitable to the French than the English stage; nor had the general conduct of the play that interest, or perhaps bustle, which is necessary to fix the attention of the promiscuous audience of London. In a theatre, where every man may, if he will, express his dissatisfaction, in defiance of beaux-esprits, nobles, or mousquetaires, that which is dull will seldom be long fashionable: “Cleomenes” was accordingly coldly received. Dryden published it with a dedication to Lord Rochester, and the Life of Cleomenes prefixed, as translated from Plutarch by Creech, that it might appear how false those reports were, which imputed to him the composing a Jacobite play.
Omitting, for the present, Dryden’s intermediate employments, I hasten to close his dramatic career, by mentioning, that “Love Triumphant,” his last play, was acted in 1692 with very bad success. Those who look over this piece, which is in truth one of the worst our author ever wrote, can be at no loss to discover sufficient reason for its condemnation. The comic part approaches to farce, and the tragic unites the wild and unnatural changes and counter-changes of the Spanish tragedy, with the involutions of unnatural and incestuous passion, which the British audience has been always averse to admit as a legitimate subject of dramatic pity or terror. But it cannot be supposed that Dryden received the failure with anything like an admission of its justice. He was a veteran foiled in the last of his theatrical trials of skill, and retreated forever from the stage, with expressions which transferred the blame from himself to his judges; for, in the dedication to James, the fourth Earl of Salisbury, a relation of Lady Elizabeth, and connected with the poet by a similarity of religious and political opinions, he declares, that the characters of the persons in the drama are truly drawn, the fable not injudiciously contrived, the changes of fortune not unartfully managed, and the catastrophe happily introduced: thus leaving, were the author’s opinion to be admitted as decisive, no grounds upon which the critics could ground their opposition. The enemies of Dryden, as usual, triumphed greatly in the fall of this piece; and thus the dramatic career of Dryden began and closed with bad success.
This Section cannot be more properly concluded than with the list which Mr. Malone has drawn out of Dryden’s plays, with the respective dates of their being acted and published; which is a correction and enlargement of that subjoined by the author himself to the opera of “Prince Arthur.” Henceforward we are to consider Dryden as unconnected with the stage.
PLAYS. Acted by Entered at Published
Stationers’ in
Hall.
1. THE WILD GALLANT. C. The King’s Aug. 7, 1667. 1669.
Servants
2. THE RIVAL LADIES. T.C. K.S. June 27, 1661. 1664.
3. THE INDIAN EMPEROR. T. K.S. May 26, 1665. 1667.
4. SECRET LOVE, OR K.S. Aug. 7, 1667. 1668.
THE MAIDEN QUEEN. C.
5. SIR MARTIN MAR-ALL. C. The Duke June 2
4, 1668. 1668.
of York’s
Servants
6. THE TEMPEST. C. D.S. Jan. 8, 1669-70. 1670.
1671.
7. AN EVENING’S LOVE, OR K.S. Nov. 20, 1668. Q also
THE MOCK ASTROLOGER. C. 1668.
8. TYRANNIC LOVE, OR K.S. July 14, 1669 1670.
THE ROYAL MARTYR, T.
9.} THE CONQUEST OF K.S. Feb. 20, 1670-1 1672.
10.} GRANADA, TWO PARTS. T.
11. MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE. C. K.S. Mar. 18, 1672-3. 1673.
12. THE ASSIGNATION OR, K.S. Mar. 18, 1672-3. 1673. LOVE IN A NUNNERY. C.
13. AMBOYNA. T. K.S. June 26, 1673. 1673.
14. The State of Innocence. O. April 17, 1674. 1674.
15. Aureng-Zebe T. K.S. Nov. 29, 1675. 1676.
16. All For Love. T. K.S. Jan. 31, 1677-8. 1678.
17. The Kind Keeper, or Mr. Limberham. C. D.S. ……………. 1678.
18. Oedipus. T. D.S. ……………. 1679.
19. Troilus and Cressida. T. D.S. April 11, 1679. 1679.
20. The Spanish Friar. T.C. D.S. ……………. 1681.
21. The Duke of Guise. T. The United ……………. 1683. Companies
22. Albion and Albanius. O. U.C. ……………. 1685.
23. Don Sebastian. T. U.C. ……………. 1690.
24. Amphitryon. C. U.C. ……………. 1690.
25. King Arthur. O. U.C. ……………. 1691.
26. Cleomenes. T. U.C. ……………. 1692.
27. Love Triumphant. T.C. U.C. ……………. 1694.
SECTION VII.
State of Dryden’s Connections in Society after the Revolution — Juvenal and Persius — Smaller Pieces — Eleonora — Third Miscellany — Virgil — Ode to St. Cecilia — Dispute with Milbourne — With Blackmore — Fables — The Author’s Death and Funeral — His private Character — Notices of his Family.
The evil consequences of the Revolution upon Dryden’s character and fortunes began to abate sensibly within a year or two after that event. It is well known, that King William’s popularity was as short-lived as it had been universal. All parties gradually drew off from the king, under their ancient standards. The clergy returned to their maxims of hereditary right, the Tories to their attachment to the house of Stuart, the Whigs to their jealousy of the royal authority. Dryden, we have already observed, so lately left in a small and detested party, was now among multitudes who, from whatever contradictory motives, were joined in opposition to the government and some of his kinsmen; particularly with John Driden of Chesterton, his first cousin; with whom, till his death, he lived upon terms of uninterrupted friendship. The influence of Clarendon and Rochester, the Queen’s uncles, were, we have seen, often exerted in the poet’s favour; and through them, he became connected with the powerful families with which they were allied. Dorset, by whom he had been deprived of his office, seems to have softened this harsh, though indispensable, exertion of authority, by a liberal present; and to his bounty Dryden had frequently recourse in cases of emergency. Indeed, upon one occasion it is said to have been administered in a mode savouring more of ostentation than delicacy; for there is a tradition that Dryden and Tom Brown, being invited to dine with the lord chamberlain, found under their covers, the one a bank-note for £100, the other for £50. I have already noticed, that these pecuniary benefactions were not held so degrading in that age as at present; and, probably, many of Dryden’s opulent and noble friends, took, like Dorset, occasional opportunities of supplying wants, which neither royal munificence, nor the favour of the public, now enabled the poet fully to provide for.
If Dryden’s critical empire over literature was at any time interrupted by the mischances of his political party, it was in abeyance for a very short period; since, soon after the Revolution, he appears to have regained, and maintained till his death, that sort of authority in Will’s coffeehouse, to which we have frequently had occasion to allude. His supremacy, indeed, seems to have been so effectually established, that a “pinch out of Dryden’s snuff-box” was equal to taking a degree in that academy of wit. Among those by whom it was frequented, Southerne and Congreve were principally distinguished by Dryden’s friendship. His intimacy with the former, though oddly commenced, seems soon to have ripened into such sincere friendship, that the aged poet selected Southerne to finish “Cleomenes,” and addressed to him an epistle of condolence on the failure of “The Wives’ Excuse,” which, as he delicately expresses it, “was with a kind civility dismissed” from the scene. This was indeed an occasion in which even Dryden could tell, from experience, how much the sympathy of friends was necessary to soothe the injured feelings of an author. But Congreve seems to have gained yet further than Southerne upon Dryden’s friendship. He was introduced to him by his first play, the celebrated “Old Bachelor,” being put into the poet’s hands to be revised. Dryden, after making a few alterations to fit it for the stage, returned it to the author with the high and just commendation that it was the best first play he had ever seen. In truth, it was impossible that Dryden could be insensible to the brilliancy of Congreve’s comic dialogue, which has never been equalled by any English dramatist, unless by Mr. Sheridan. Less can be said for the tragedies of Southerne, and for “The Mourning Bride.” Although these pieces contain many passages of great interest, and of beautiful poetry, I know not but they contributed more than even the subsequent homilies of Rowe, to chase natural and powerful expression of passion from the English stage, and to sink it into that maudlin, and affected, and pedantic style of tragedy, which haunted the stage till Shakespeare awakened at the call of Garrick. “The Fatal Marriage” of Southerne is an exception to this false taste; for no one who has seen Mrs. Siddons in Isabella, can deny Southerne the power of moving the passions, till amusement becomes bitter and almost insupportable distress. But these observations are here out of place. Addison paid an early tribute to Dryden’s fame, by the verses addressed to him on his translations. Among Dryden’s less distinguished intimates, we observe Sir Henry Shere, Dennis the critic, Moyle, Motteux, Walsh, who lived to distinguish the youthful merit of Pope, and other men of the second rank in literature. These, as his works testify, he frequently assisted with prefaces, occasional verses, or similar contributions. But among our author’s followers and admirers, we must not reckon Swift, although related to him, and now coming into notice. It is said, that Swift had subjected to his cousin’s perusal, some of those performances, entitled Odes, which appear in the seventh volume of the last edition of his works. Even the eye of Dryden was unable to discover the wit and the satirist in the clouds of incomprehensible pindaric obscurity in which he was enveloped; and the aged bard pronounced the hasty, and never to be pardoned sentence,— “Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.” A doom which he, on whom it was passed, attempted to repay, by repeated, although impotent, attacks upon the fame of Dryden, everywhere scattered through his works. With the exception of Swift, no author of eminence, whose labours are still in request, has ventured to assail the poetical fame of Dryden.
Shortly after the Revolution, Dryden had translated several satires of Juvenal; and calling in the aid of his two sons, of Congreve, Creech, Tate, and others, he was enabled, in 1692, to give a complete version both of that satirist, and of Persius. In this undertaking he himself bore a large share, translating the whole of Persius, with the first, third, sixth, tenth, and sixteenth satires of Juvenal. To this version is prefixed the noted Essay on Satire, inscribed to the Earl of Dorset and Middlesex. In that treatise, our author exhibits a good deal of that sort of learning which was in fashion among the French critics; and, I suspect, was contented rather to borrow something from them, than put himself to the trouble of compiling more valuable materials. Such is the disquisition concerning the origin of the word Satire, which is chiefly extracted from Casaubon, Dacier, and Rigault. But the poet’s own incidental remarks upon the comparative merits of Horace, Juvenal, and Persius, his declamation against the abuse of satire, his incidental notices re
specting epic poetry, translation, and English literature in general, render this introduction highly valuable.
Without noticing the short prefaces to Walsh’s “Essay upon Woman,” a meagre and stiff composition, and to Sir Henry Shere’s wretched translation of Polybius, published in 1691 and 1692, we hasten to the elegy on the Countess of Abingdon, entitled Eleonora. This lady died suddenly, 31st May 1691, in a ball-room in her own house, just then prepared for an entertainment. The disconsolate husband, who seems to have been a patron of the Muses, not satisfied with the volunteer effusions of some minor poets, employed a mutual friend to engage Dryden to compose a more beautiful tribute to his consort’s memory. The poet, it would seem, neither knew the lord nor the lady, but was doubtless propitiated upon the mournful occasion; nor was the application and fee judged more extraordinary than that probably offered, on the same occasion, to the divine who was to preach the Countess’s funeral sermon. The leading and most characteristic features of the lady’s character were doubtless pointed out to our author as subjects for illustration; yet so difficult is it, even for the best poet, to feign a sorrow which he feels not, or to describe with appropriate and animated colouring a person whom he has never seen, that Dryden’s poem resembles rather an abstract panegyric on an imaginary being, than an elegy on a real character. The elegy was published early in 1692.
In 1693, Tonson’s Third Miscellany made its appearance, with a dedication to Lord Ratcliffe, eldest son of the Earl of Derwentwater, who was himself a pretender to poetry, though our author thought so slightly of his attempts in that way, that he does not even deign to make them enter into his panegyric, but contents himself with saying, “what you will be hereafter, may be more than guessed by what you are at present.” It is probable that the rhyming peer was dissatisfied with Dryden’s unusual economy of adulation; at least he disappointed some expectations which the poet and bookseller seem to have entertained of his liberality. This dedication indicates, that a quarrel was commenced between our author and the critic Rymer. It appears from a passage in a letter to Tonson, that Rymer had spoken lightly of him in his last critique (probably in the short view of tragedy), and that the poet took this opportunity, as he himself expresses it, to snarl again. He therefore acquaints us roundly, that the corruption of a poet was the generation of a critic; exults a little over the memory of Rymer’s “Edgar,” a tragedy just reeking from damnation; and hints at the difference which the public is likely to experience between the present royal historiographer and him whose room he occupied. In his epistle to Congreve, alluding to the same circumstance of Rymer’s succeeding to the office of historiographer, as Tate did to the laurel, on the death of Thomas Shadwell, in 1692, Dryden has these humorous lines: