by Thomas Otway
It was like Rochester to reproach him on this score — the man who showed the white feather to Lord Mulgrave, and made lackeys cudgel Dryden in Rose Alley. But Otway gave him as good as he got in the “Poet’s Complaint.” The matter is explained in the Epilogue to Caius Marius, which he produced in 1680, having written most of it in camp abroad. It is a barefaced, and indeed avowed plagiarism from Romeo and Juliet, though one or two scenes are his own, and have some merit. Marius, at all events, was a rather more dignified representative of Shaftesbury than old Antonio in Venice Preserved. This play occupied the place of Romeo and Juliet on our stage for seventy years. With a more avowed party motive he likewise published in the same year “The Poet’s Complaint of his Muse.” When we think of “Absalom and Achitophel,” the contrast is woeful indeed. All Otway’s poems are bad, except the Epistle to Duke, his friend. The blunted insipidity of his conventional diction is worthy of Pope’s followers. Before leaving England he had written his first comedy, Friendship in Fashion, which appeared in 1678.
In the year 1680 Otway’s second great play, The Orphan, appeared. Voltaire attacked it furiously, and will allow no merit to le tendre Otway. Tenderness anywhere was not likely to find favour with the tigre-singe, whose fascinating wit was of an icy brilliance. But Jeremy Collier also attacked the play on other grounds, in his “Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage.” Mrs. Barry has recorded that in the character of Monimia she could never pronounce the words “Poor Castalio!” without tears. May she not have been thinking of another Castalio? Let us believe it! Ah! if only Mrs. Barry had been the Belvidera of her poet’s dream, she might have saved him from his evil genius, from his selfish patrons, and from himself.
In 1681 Otway produced The Soldier’s Fortune, a comedy which contains allusions to his own adventures abroad, and is the only contemporary play not dedicated to a person of quality, being dedicated to Bentley, the publisher. Depressed by his hopeless passion, “alternately elevated with promises and dejected by scorn and neglect, caressed for his wit, despised for his poverty, and exposed to all those attendant ills, which a generous spirit feels more acutely than actual privation, neglect, wrongs real and imaginary, the altered eye of friends,” we can hardly wonder at the gloomy tone which he assumed in the Epilogue to this play. Can we not picture him with those large, limpid, wistful eyes looking for the face he most wanted among the crowds, preoccupied or listless, that passed in the gathering twilight of that afternoon, which he mentions in the last of those letters to Mrs. Barry, lingering among strange faces of promenaders under the trees of the gay Mall, looking long for her who never came, never fulfilled her promise to meet him? This seems to have been the turning point in Otway’s career. Failing in this last attempt to win his lady’s love, and sinking under accumulated debt, he, like how many others, surrendered himself to those habits of inebriety, which insidiously promised him consolation. And yet his creative powers were maturing daily, for his greatest work, Venice Preserved, was brought upon the stage in 1682.
Since Otway’s plays were well received, it may seem strange that he should have remained so poor. But, in the first place, he was evidently one of those generous, reckless good fellows like “Goldy,” and Sheridan, who spend all they have, and more too. And, in the second place, the profits of the playhouse were very small. Theatrical amusements were not the general resort of the people — a serious disadvantage, as Scott observes, to the art, as well as to the purse, of the playwright. Religious scruples still withheld many, as in Commonwealth days; and others were kept away by the indecency then in vogue. The most popular play did not remain long on the boards. In Otway’s time, moreover, an author had only one benefit from the representation, which was on the third night. Southerne was the first to have two benefits, and it was not until 1729 that the profits of three representations became the right of the author. Gildon says that Otway got a hundred pounds a piece for The Orphan and Venice Preserved, while old Jacob Tonson bought the copyright of Venice Preserved for fifteen pounds. The poet was sometimes in such straits that he had to pawn his third day for fifty pounds. He could not have made much by his few prologues and occasional poems.
Otway’s last play was a comedy called The Atheist, a continuation of The Soldier’s Fortune, represented in 1683, or the following year, at the Theatre Royal by the united companies, who had amalgamated in 1682, and removed to Drury Lane. Charles II. died in February, 1685, and Otway thereupon published a poem called “Windsor Castle,” in which he praised the late king, and exulted over the accession of James. His praises of Charles were probably not much more sincere than those which he, and other writers of the day, lavished upon people of rank in their dedications for the sake of a few guineas. More guineas are to be had now-a-days by flattering the whims and tastes of that “many-headed” monarch, under whose reign we have the honour to live. In the so-called Augustan age, literary merit was systematically neglected. Witness Butler and Cowley. Yet Otway was the son of a loyalist, and ever faithful to the Court. Nor was Charles incapable of appreciating talent. But Otway, to use his own words, only got the “pension of a prince’s praise”; and a gracious command to lampoon the greatest statesman of the time, which he did accordingly. Praise of one who cannot be a rival is an inexpensive form of present. It appears, however, that two of the royal mistresses were more generous — Nell Gwynne and the Duchess of Portsmouth, whose bounty, “extended to him in his last extremity,” he extols in the dedication of Venice Preserved.
Otway had withdrawn from the importunate clamour of creditors to an obscure public-house, the sign of the Bull, on Tower Hill; and here, on the 14th of April, 1685, at the premature age of thirty-four, he died. His body was conveyed thence to the Church of St. Clement Danes, and there deposited in a vault. About the circumstances of his death there is a conflict of evidence. The story that has gained currency is probably not the true one; only one early biographer is our authority for it. He states that, having long been insufficiently fed, Otway one day sallied forth in a starving state, and begged a shilling from a gentleman in a coffee house, saying, “I am the poet Otway.” This person, surprised and distressed, gave him a guinea. With it he bought a roll of bread, and began to devour it with the rage of hunger; but, incapable of swallowing from long abstinence, he was choked with the first mouthful. Other writers make no mention of this incident, and Wood is not only silent on the subject, but states that in his “sickness” (implying gradual decay) he composed a congratulatory poem on the inauguration of James II. Spence, moreover, who had the anecdote from Dennis the critic, tells quite a different story. He relates that Otway had an intimate friend named Blakiston, who was murdered in the street, and that, to revenge the deed, Otway pursued the assassin on foot as far as Dover, where he was seized with a fever, occasioned by fatigue, privation, and excitement. On his return to London, being heated, he drank water, which was the immediate occasion of his death. Yet undoubtedly insufficient nourishment must have accelerated his end. It is quite possible, therefore, that the anecdote about the guinea and the roll may be substantially true, although this circumstance may not have been the actual cause of death.
The ardour and constancy of Otway’s personal attachments are very notable all through his career — witness his friendship with Shadwell (though Mr. Gosse strangely calls Shadwell his enemy), with an unknown person whom he names Senander, and especially with Duke, whose expressions of fondness for him were very warm. And it now appears that he fell a victim to this devoted comradeship, which he has so forcibly delineated in his tragedy. “Whom the gods love die young.” Otway is with Shelley, Keats and Byron, with Marlowe and with Chatterton.
Roden Noel.
⁂ Otway made some translations from Ovid and Horace. He also wrote prologues to Lee’s Constantine and Mrs. Behn’s City Heiress, with an epistle to Creech on his translation of Lucretius, besides a few miscellaneous poems, prologues, and epilogues. A translation from the French, the History of Triumvirates, was
published a year after his decease. Moreover, it was reported that he had been engaged on an original tragedy at the time of his death; Betterton, the actor and manager, advertised for this play, but it was never found. All authorities, except Mr. Gosse, agree in rejecting as a forgery the play named Heroic Friendship, which a bookseller long afterwards (in 1719) attempted to palm off upon the public as the lost tragedy of Otway. While destitute of all external evidence for genuineness, it is usually regarded as a contemptible production, equally destitute of internal evidence. Mr. Gosse indeed urges a similarity in the principal character to the heroes of Otway. But of course to produce such a similarity would be the obvious resort of any forger. It was printed, though never acted. Gildon relates that Otway was very fond of punch, and that the last thing he wrote was a song in praise of it.
William Oldys, in his famous annotated copy of Langbaine’s Dramatic Poets, in the British Museum, thus writes of Otway: “There is an excellent and beautiful picture of Mr. Otway, who was a fine, portly, graceful man, now among the poetical collection of Lord Chesterfield (I think it was painted by John Ryley), in a full bottom wig, and nothing like that quakerish figure which Knapton has impost upon the world.” Interlined is the following: “He was of middle size, about 5 ft. 7 in., inclinable to corpulency, had thoughtful, yet lively, and, as it were, speaking eyes.”
I am indebted to Dr. Grosart for the foregoing quotation, and have to express my thanks to Mr. S. W. Orson for numerous textual suggestions and emendations.
ENDNOTES.
1 In Mr. Saintsbury’s admirable monograph on Dryden (English Men of Letters) we have, for the first time, the truth told about the origins of the so-called “heroic” drama in England — a semi-operatic creation of Sir W. Davenant under the Protectorate. But though the rhyme may have come from France, it seems to me that for the rant our Restoration playwrights need not have looked so far as the Scudéry romance, or the Spanish poetry; they had examples nearer home, which is equally true of the “conceits.” Dryden is the father of modern prose, and the father of didactic verse, even, one may say, of modern satire also. Now, if a man achieve a reputation for eminence in one department, his eminence in another, however indisputable, is sure to be disputed. It has seemed evident to critics (and consequently to bookmakers) that since he was a critic he could not be a poet. Yet he was certainly both. He is more than what Matthew Arnold names him, a “classic of our prose.”
2 Shall we find such things in the modern creations of Scott, George Sand, Thackeray, Charlotte Brontë (possibly we may in Emily Brontë), Thomas Hardy, or Tolstoi?
3 Respecting Otway’s life, my chief authority is Thornton, who has prefixed the best sketch I know of to the best edition of the poet’s works; but I have also consulted other authorities, and read Mr. Gosse’s interesting essay in his “Seventeenth Century Studies,” &c. Thornton’s text has been usually followed in the present volume; with, however, numerous emendations, the result of collation with the early editions.
4
Tom Otway came next, Tom Shadwell’s dear Zany, And swears for heroics he writes best of any; Don Carlos his pockets so amply had filled That his mange was quite cured and his lice were all killed; But Apollo had seen his face on the stage, And prudently did not think fit to engage The scum of a playhouse for the prop of an age.
Wood mentions that it was reported the poet came back from Flanders “mangy, and covered with vermin.”
Thomas Otway by Sidney Lee
From ‘Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900, Volume 42’
THOMAS OTWAY (1652–1685), dramatist, born at Trotton, near Midhurst, Sussex, on 3 March 1651-2, was only son of Humphrey Otway, at the time curate of Trotton. The father, after graduating from Christ’s College, Cambridge (B.A. 1635, and M.A. 1638), was admitted a pensioner of St. John’s College in the same university (Mayor, Admissions to St. John’s College, 1. 43). In his son’s infancy he became rector of Woolbeding, three miles from Trotton. A successor was appointed to the rectory in 1670, which was doubtless the year of Humphrey Otway’s death. He was poor, and left his son (the latter tells us) no inheritance beyond his loyalty. A silver flagon, still used in holy communion in Woolbeding church, bears an inscription stating that it was the gift in 1703 of Humphrey Otway’s widow Elizabeth. Thomas was educated at Winchester College. His name appears in the ‘Long Roll’ for 1668 as a commoner, and one of five boarding in college. About 1739-40 a ‘marble,’ with his name, the date ‘1670,’ and the initials ‘W. C.’ and ‘J. W.’ carved upon it, was placed in sixth chamber in college. The initials apparently represent the names of those who erected the memorial — William Collins, the poet, and Joseph Warton, who were scholars and prefects in 1739-40. In his vacations, spent at Woolbeding, Otway seems to have beguiled a part of his leisure by scribbling scraps of Latin over the parish register, in which his signature may still be seen attached to many irrelevant Latin quotations. On 27 May 1669, at the age of seventeen, he entered Christ Church, Oxford, as a commoner. Among his chief friends there was Anthony Cary, fifth viscount Falkland, some five years his junior, who matriculated at Christ Church on 21 May 1672. Otway was from an early age devoted to the theatre, and Falkland, who shared his sympathies, seems to have encouraged his dramatic predilections (cf. Caius Marius, Ded.) Leaving the university in the autumn of 1672, without a degree, he made his way to London. Introducing himself to Mrs. Aphra Behn, he eagerly accepted her proposal that he should play the small part of the king in her ‘ Forc’d Marriage, or the Jealous Bridegroom,’ which was on the point of production at the theatre in Dorset Gardens. The experiment proved a complete failure. ‘The full house put him to such a sweat and tremendous agony [that], being dash’t, [it] spoilt him for an actor’ (Downes, Roscius Anylicanus, 1708, ). Otway did not appear on the stage again, but thenceforward occupied himself in writing plays.
Some success attended his earliest effort. In 1675 there was produced, at Dorset Garden Theatre, a tragedy by him, in five acts of heroic verse, entitled ‘Alcibiades.’ The story was drawn, with many modifications, from Nepos and Plutarch. There is much bombast and no indisputable sign of talent in Otway’s treatment of his theme. At a later date he apologised for making his hero a ‘squeamish gentleman’ (Don Carlos, Pref.) ; but the title-role in the hands of Betterton proved attractive, while Mrs. Betterton and Mrs. Barry, who on this occasion ‘gave the first indication of her rising merit,’ were acceptable to the audience in the parts respectively of Timandra and Draxilla (Genest, i. 177 ; Davies, Dramatic Miscellanies, iii. 179). The Earl of Rochester commended the piece, and brought Otway to the notice of the Duke of York. ‘Alcibiades ‘ was at once published, with a dedication to Charles, earl of Middlesex (2nd edit. 1687).
A year later Otway achieved a wider reputation (Langraine). On 15 June 1676 a license was granted for the performance at Dorset Gardens of his ‘Don Carlos,’ another rhyming play. The plot was adapted from a French historical romance of the same name by the Abbé St. Réal, which had been published in London in an English translation in 1674. Schiller’s ‘Don Carlos’ is drawn from the same French original, and the many close resemblances between the English and German plays have offered a suggestive field for criticism in Germany (Ueber Otway’s und Schiller’s Don Carlos, von Jacob Lowenberg, Lippstadt, 1886 ; Otway’s, Schiller’s und St. Real’s Don Carlos, von Ernst Müller, Markgroningen, 1888). Betterton played Philip II, and ‘all the parts were admirably acted’ (Downes). The piece, despite the sanguinary extravagances of its concluding scene, was repeated ten consecutive nights, and ‘got more money than any preceding tragedy’ (ib.) The statement in Cibber’s ‘Lives’ that it was played thirty nights together is an obvious exaggeration. In his ‘bession of the Poets’ Rochester writes that the piece filled Otway’s pockets. Betterton told Booth that ‘Don Carlos’ ‘was infinitely more applauded and better followed for many years than’ any other of Otway’s productions (Letters of Aaron Hill; Genest, i. 191). Only one revival after Otway’s death is not
ed by Genest — that at Drury Lane on 27 July 1708, when Barton Booth played Philip II ; but, according to Davies (iii. 179), it was acted again about 1730 at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, with Boheme as Philip and Mrs. Seymour as the queen, and its reception restored the falling fortunes of that playhouse. The first edition was published in 1676, with a dedication to the Duke of York, and a preface in defence of ‘Alcibiades,’ its predecessor. According to the preface, Dryden, who is referred to as ‘an envious poet,’ asserted that ‘Don Carlos’ ‘contained not one line that he would be author of.’ A coolness between Otway and Dryden followed, but proved of short duration. A fourth edition of ‘Don Carlos’ was dated in 1695, and a fifth ‘corrected’ in 1704.
Betterton’s faith in Otway was now established, and early in 1677 he brought out two dramas by him, both adaptations from the French. The first, ‘Titus and Berenice,’ a tragedy in three acts of rhyming verse, was adapted from Racine ; the second, ‘The Cheats of Scapin,’ a farce, was adapted from Moliere. Both tragedy and farce were acted on the same night in February 1676-7, and were published shortly afterwards in a single volume, which was dedicated to Lord Rochester. A reprint appeared in 1701. Mrs. Barry played in both pieces ; Betterton only in the tragedy, where he took the role of Tit us. The farce kept the stage till the present century. The approval bestowed on his version of ‘ Scapin encouraged Otway to try his fortune in comedy. His first original comedy, ‘Friendship in Fashion’ (in prose), was licensed for performance at Dorset Gardens on 31 May 1678. The dedication of the published version (1678) was accepted by the Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, who had already patronised ‘Alcibiades.’ Betterton played ‘Goodvile, the hero, and Mrs. Barry the heroine, Mrs. Goodvile. The tone is frankly indecent, and its interest centres in very flagrant breaches of the marriage tie ; but it was considered at the time to be ‘very diverting,’ and won ‘general applause’ (Langbaine). A change in public taste and moral feeling led, however, to its being summarily hissed off the stage when, after an interval of thirty years, it was revived at Drury Lane on 22 Jan. 1749-60, with Mrs. Clive in the part of Lady Squeamish.