_ The sedgy honours of my brows
dispersed!
Dryden - Complete
Phoebus
must foretel, Mercury must charm with his caduceus, and Juno must
reconcile the quarrels of the marriage-bed; to conclude, they must all
act according to their distinct and peculiar characters. If the
persons represented were to speak upon the stage, it would follow, of
necessity, that the expressions should be lofty, figurative, and
majestical: but the nature of an opera denies the frequent use of
these poetical ornaments; for vocal music, though it often admits a
loftiness of sound, yet always exacts an harmonious sweetness; or, to
distinguish yet more justly, the recitative part of the opera requires
a more masculine beauty of expression and sound. The other, which, for
want of a proper English word, I must call the _songish part_, must
abound in the softness and variety of numbers; its principal intention
being to please the hearing, rather than to gratify the understanding.
It appears, indeed, preposterous at first sight, that rhyme, on any
consideration, should take place of reason; but, in order to resolve
the problem, this fundamental proposition must be settled, that the
first inventors of any art or science, provided they have brought it
to perfection, are, in reason, to give laws to it; and, according to
their model, all after-undertakers are to build. Thus, in epic poetry,
no man ought to dispute the authority of Homer, who gave the first
being to that masterpiece of art, and endued it with that form of
perfection in all its parts, that nothing was wanting to its
excellency. Virgil therefore, and those very few who have succeeded
him, endeavoured not to introduce, or innovate, any thing in a design
already perfected, but imitated the plan of the inventor; and are only
so far true heroic poets, as they have built on the foundations of
Homer. Thus, Pindar, the author of those Odes, which are so admirably
restored by Mr Cowley in our language, ought for ever to be the
standard of them; and we are bound, according to the practice of
Horace and Mr Cowley, to copy him. Now, to apply this axiom to our
present purpose, whosoever undertakes the writing of an opera, which
is a modern invention, though built indeed on the foundation of ethnic
worship, is obliged to imitate the design of the Italians, who have
not only invented, but brought to perfection, this sort of dramatic
musical entertainment. I have not been able, by any search, to get any
light, either of the time when it began, or of the first author; but I
have probable reasons, which induce me to believe, that some Italians,
having curiously observed the gallantries of the Spanish Moors at
their zambras, or royal feasts, where music, songs, and dancing, were
in perfection, together with their machines, which are usual at their
_sortija_, or running at the ring, and other solemnities, may possibly
have refined upon those moresque divertisements, and produced this
delightful entertainment, by leaving out the warlike part of the
carousals, and forming a poetical design for the use of the machines,
the songs, and dances. But however it began, (for this is only
conjectural,) we know, that, for some centuries, the knowledge of
music has flourished principally in Italy, the mother of learning and
of arts[2]; that poetry and painting have been there restored, and so
cultivated by Italian masters, that all Europe has been enriched out
of their treasury; and the other parts of it, in relation to those
delightful arts, are still as much provincial to Italy, as they were
in the time of the Roman empire. Their first operas seem to have been
intended for the celebration of the marriages of their princes, or for
the magnificence of some general time of joy; accordingly, the
expences of them were from the purse of the sovereign, or of the
republic, as they are still practised at Venice, Rome, and at other
places, at their carnivals. Savoy and Florence have often used them in
their courts, at the weddings of their dukes; and at Turin
particularly, was performed the "Pastor Fido," written by the famous
Guarini, which is a pastoral opera made to solemnise the marriage of a
Duke of Savoy. The prologue of it has given the design to all the
French; which is a compliment to the sovereign power by some god or
goddess; so that it looks no less than a kind of embassy from heaven
to earth. I said in the beginning of this preface, that the persons
represented in operas are generally gods, goddesses, and heroes
descended from them, who are supposed to be their peculiar care; which
hinders not, but that meaner persons may sometimes gracefully be
introduced, especially if they have relation to those first times,
which poets call the Golden Age; wherein, by reason of their
innocence, those happy mortals were supposed to have had a more
familiar intercourse with superior beings; and therefore shepherds
might reasonably be admitted, as of all callings the most innocent,
the most happy, and who, by reason of the spare time they had, in
their almost idle employment, had most leisure to make verses, and to
be in love; without somewhat of which passion, no opera can possibly
subsist.
It is almost needless to speak any thing of that noble language, in
which this musical drama was first invented and performed. All, who
are conversant in the Italian, cannot but observe, that it is the
softest, the sweetest, the most harmonious, not only of any modern
tongue, but even beyond any of the learned. It seems indeed to have
been invented for the sake of poetry and music; the vowels are so
abounding in all words, especially in terminations of them, that,
excepting some few monosyllables, the whole language ends in them.
Then the pronunciation is so manly, and so sonorous, that their very
speaking has more of music in it than Dutch poetry and song. It has
withal derived, so much copiousness and eloquence from the Greek and
Latin, in the composition of words, and the formation of them, that
if, after all, we must call it barbarous, it is the most beautiful and
most learned of any barbarism in modern tongues; and we may, at least,
as justly praise it, as Pyrrhus did the Roman discipline and martial
order, that it was of barbarians, (for so the Greeks called all other
nations,) but had nothing in it of barbarity. This language has in a
manner been refined and purified from the Gothic ever since the time
of Dante, which is above four hundred years ago; and the French, who
now cast a longing eye to their country, are not less ambitious to
possess their elegance in poetry and music; in both which they labour
at impossibilities. It is true, indeed, they have reformed their
tongue, and brought both their prose and poetry to a standard; the
sweetness, as well as the purity, is much improved, by throwing off
the unnecessary consonants, which made their spelling tedious and
their pronunciation harsh: but, after all, as nothing can be improved
beyond its own _species_, or farther than its original nature will
allow; as an ill voice, though ever so thoroughly instructed in the
rules of music, can never be brought to sing harmoniously, nor many an
honest critic ever arrive to be a good poet; so neither can the
natural harshness of the French, or their perpetual ill accent, be
ever refined into perfect harmony like the Italian. The English has
yet more natural disadvantages than the French; our original Teutonic,
consisting most in monosyllables, and those incumbered with
consonants, cannot possibly be freed from those inconveniencies. The
rest of our words, which are derived from the Latin chiefly, and the
French, with some small sprinklings of Greek, Italian, and Spanish,
are some relief in poetry, and help us to soften our uncouth numbers;
which, together with our English genius, incomparably beyond the
trifling of the French, in all the nobler parts of verse, will justly
give us the pre-eminence. But, on the other hand, the effeminacy of
our pronunciation, (a defect common to us and to the Danes,) and our
scarcity of female rhymes, have left the advantage of musical
composition for songs, though not for recitative, to our neighbours.
Through these difficulties I have made a shift to struggle in my part
of the performance of this opera; which, as mean as it is, deserves at
least a pardon, because it has attempted a discovery beyond any former
undertaker of our nation; only remember, that if there be no
north-east passage to be found, the fault is in nature, and not in me;
or, as Ben Jonson tells us in "The Alchymist," when projection had
failed, and the glasses were all broken, there was enough, however, in
the bottoms of them, to cure the itch; so I may thus be positive, that
if I have not succeeded as I desire, yet there is somewhat still
remaining to satisfy the curiosity, or itch of sight and hearing. Yet
I have no great reason to despair; for I may, without vanity, own some
advantages, which are not common to every writer; such as are the
knowledge of the Italian and French language, and the being conversant
with some of their best performances in this kind; which have
furnished me with such variety of measures as have given the composer,
Monsieur Grabut, what occasions he could wish, to shew his
extraordinary talent in diversifying the recitative, the lyrical part,
and the chorus; in all which, not to attribute any thing to my own
opinion, the best judges and those too of the best quality, who have
honoured his rehearsals with their presence, have no less commended
the happiness of his genius than his skill. And let me have the
liberty to add one thing, that he has so exactly expressed my sense in
all places where I intended to move the passions, that he seems to
have entered into my thoughts, and to have been the poet as well as
the composer. This I say, not to flatter him, but to do him right;
because amongst some English musicians, and their scholars, who are
sure to judge after them, the imputation of being a Frenchman is
enough to make a party, who maliciously endeavour to decry him. But
the knowledge of Latin and Italian poets, both which he possesses,
besides his skill in music, and his being acquainted with all the
performances of the French operas, adding to these the good sense to
which he is born, have raised him to a degree above any man, who shall
pretend to be his rival on our stage. When any of our countrymen excel
him, I shall be glad, for the sake of old England, to be shewn my
error; in the mean time, let virtue be commended, though in the person
of a stranger[3].
If I thought it convenient, I could here discover some rules which I
have given to myself in writing of an opera in general, and of this
opera in particular; but I consider, that the effect would only be, to
have my own performance measured by the laws I gave; and,
consequently, to set up some little judges, who, not understanding
thoroughly, would be sure to fall upon the faults, and not to
acknowledge any of the beauties; an hard measure, which I have often
found from false critics. Here, therefore, if they will criticise,
they shall do it out of their own _fond_; but let them first be
assured that their ears are nice; for there is neither writing nor
judgment on this subject without that good quality. It is no easy
matter, in our language, to make words so smooth, and numbers so
harmonious, that they shall almost set themselves. And yet there are
rules for this in nature, and as great a certainty of quantity in our
syllables, as either in the Greek or Latin: but let poets and judges
understand those first, and then let them begin to study English. When
they have chewed a while upon these preliminaries, it may be they will
scarce adventure to tax me with want of thought and elevation of fancy
in this work; for they will soon be satisfied, that those are not of
the nature of this sort of writing. The necessity of double rhimes,
and ordering of the words and numbers for the sweetness of the voice,
are the main hinges on which an opera must move; and both of these are
without the compass of any art to teach another to perform, unless
nature, in the first place, has done her part, by enduing the poet
with that nicety of hearing, that the discord of sounds in words shall
as much offend him, as a seventh in music would a good composer. I
have therefore no need to make excuses for meanness of thought in many
places: the Italians, with all the advantages of their language, are
continually forced upon it, or, rather, affect it. The chief secret is
the choice of words; and, by this choice, I do not here mean elegancy
of expression, but propriety of sound, to be varied according to the
nature of the subject. Perhaps a time may come when I may treat of
this more largely, out of some observations which I have made from
Homer and Virgil, who, amongst all the poets, only understood the art
of numbers, and of that which was properly called _rhythmus_ by the
ancients.
The same reasons, which depress thought in an opera, have a stronger
effect upon the words, especially in our language; for there is no
maintaining the purity of English in short measures, where the rhime
returns so quick, and is so often female, or double rhime, which is
not natural to our tongue, because it consists too much of
monosyllables, and those, too, most commonly clogged with consonants;
for which reason I am often forced to coin new words, revive some that
are antiquated, and botch others; as if I had not served out my time
in poetry, but was bound apprentice to some doggrel rhimer, who makes
songs to tunes, and sings them for a livelihood. It is true, I have
not been often put to this drudgery; but where I have, the words will
sufficiently shew, that I was then a slave to the composition, which I
will never be again: it is my part to invent, and the musician's to
humour that invention. I may be counselled, and will always follow my
friend's advice where I find it reasonable, but will never part with
the power of the militia[4].
I am now to acquaint my reader with somewhat more particular
concerning this opera, after having begged his pardon for so long a
preface to so short a work. It was originally intended only for a
prologue to a play of the nature of "The Tempest;" which is a tragedy
mixed with opera, or a drama, written in blank verse, adorned with
scenes, machines, songs, and dances, so that the fable of it is all
spoken and acted by the best of the comedians; the other part of the
entertainment to be performed by the same singers and dancers who were
introduced in this present opera. It cannot properly be called a play,
because the action of it is supposed to be conducted sometimes by
supernatural means, or magic; nor an opera, because the story of it is
not sung. --But more of this at its proper time. --But some intervening
accidents having hitherto deferred the performance of the main design,
I proposed to the actors, to turn the intended Prologue into an
entertainment by itself, as you now see it, by adding two acts more to
what I had already written. The subject of it is wholly allegorical;
and the allegory itself so very obvious, that it will no sooner be
read than understood. It is divided, according to the plain and
natural method of every action, into three parts. For even Aristotle
himself is contented to say simply, that in all actions there is a
beginning, a middle, and an end; after which model all the Spanish
plays are built.
The descriptions of the scenes, and other decorations of the stage, I
had from Mr Betterton, who has spared neither for industry, nor cost,
to make this entertainment perfect, nor for invention of the ornaments
to beautify it.
To conclude, though the enemies of the composer are not few, and that
there is a party formed against him of his own profession, I hope, and
am persuaded, that this prejudice will turn in the end to his
advantage. For the greatest part of an audience is always
uninterested, though seldom knowing; and if the music be well
composed, and well performed, they, who find themselves pleased, will
be so wise as not to be imposed upon, and fooled out of their
satisfaction. The newness of the undertaking is all the hazard. When
operas were first set up in France, they were not followed over
eagerly; but they gained daily upon their hearers, till they grew to
that height of reputation, which they now enjoy. The English, I
confess, are not altogether so musical as the French; and yet they
have been pleased already with "The Tempest," and some pieces that
followed, which were neither much better written, nor so well composed
as this. If it finds encouragement, I dare promise myself to mend my
hand, by making a more pleasing fable. In the mean time, every loyal
Englishman cannot but be satisfied with the moral of this, which so
plainly represents the double restoration of His Sacred Majesty.
POSTSCRIPT.
This preface being wholly written before the death of my late royal
master, (_quem semper acerbum, semper honoratum, sic dii voluistis,
habebo_) I have now lately reviewed it, as supposing I should find
many notions in it, that would require correction on cooler thoughts.
After four months lying by me, I looked on it as no longer mine,
because I had wholly forgotten it; but I confess with some
satisfaction, and perhaps a little vanity, that I found myself
entertained by it; my own judgment was new to me, and pleased me when
I looked on it as another man's. I see no opinion that I would retract
or alter, unless it be, that possibly the Italians went not so far as
Spain, for the invention of their operas. They might have it in their
own country; and that by gathering up the shipwrecks of the Athenian
and Roman theatres, which we know were adorned with scenes, music,
dances, and machines, especially the Grecian. But of this the learned
Monsieur Vossius, who has made our nation his second country, is the
best, and perhaps the only judge now living. As for the opera itself,
it was all composed, and was just ready to have been performed, when
he, in honour of whom it was principally made, was taken from us.
He had been pleased twice or thrice to command, that it should be
practised before him, especially the first and third acts of it; and
publicly declared more than once, that the composition and choruses
were more just, and more beautiful, than any he had heard in England.
How nice an ear he had in music, is sufficiently known; his praise
therefore has established the reputation of it above censure, and made
it in a manner sacred. It is therefore humbly and religiously
dedicated to his memory.
It might reasonably have been expected that his death must have
changed the whole fabric of the opera, or at least a great part of it.
But the design of it originally was so happy, that it needed no
alteration, properly so called; for the addition of twenty or thirty
lines in the apotheosis of Albion, has made it entirely of a piece,
This was the only way which could have been invented, to save it from
botched ending; and it fell luckily into my imagination; as if there
were a kind of fatality even in the most trivial things concerning the
succession: a change was made, and not for the worse, without the
least confusion or disturbance; and those very causes, which seemed to
threaten us with troubles, conspired to produce our lasting happiness.
Footnotes:
1. This definition occurs in the preface to the "State of Innocence;"
but although given by Dryden, and sanctioned by Pope, it has a very
limited resemblance to that which is defined. Mr Addison has,
however, mistaken Dryden, in supposing that he applied this
definition exclusively to what we now properly call _wit_. From the
context it is plain, that he meant to include all poetical
composition. --_Spectator_, No. 62. The word once comprehended human
knowledge in general. We still talk of the wit of man, to signify
all that man can devise.
2. The first Italian opera is said to have been that of "Dafne,"
performed at Florence in 1597. --_See_ BURNEY'S _History of Music_,
Vol. iv. p. 17.
3. This passage gave great offence, being supposed to contain an
oblique reflection on Purcell and the other English composers.
4. Alluding to the disputes betwixt the King and Parliament, on the
important point of the command of the militia. ]
PROLOGUE
Full twenty years, and more, our labouring stage
Has lost, on this incorrigible age:
Our poets, the John Ketches of the nation,
Have seemed to lash ye, even to excoriation;
But still no sign remains; which plainly notes,
You bore like heroes, or you bribed like Oates. --
What can we do, when mimicking a fop,
Like beating nut-trees, makes a larger crop?
'Faith, we'll e'en spare our pains! and, to content you,
Will fairly leave you what your Maker meant you.
Satire was once your physic, wit your food;
One nourished not, and t'other drew no blood:
We now prescribe, like doctors in despair,
The diet your weak appetites can bear.
Since hearty beef and mutton will not do,
Here's julep-dance, ptisan of song and show:
Give you strong sense, the liquor is too heady;
You're come to farce,--that's asses milk,--already.
Some hopeful youths there are, of callow wit,
Who one day may be men, if heaven think fit;
Sound may serve such, ere they to sense are grown,
Like leading-strings, till they can walk alone. --
But yet, to keep our friends in countenance, know,
The wise Italians first invented show;
Thence into France the noble pageant past:
'Tis England's credit to be cozened last.
Freedom and zeal have choused you o'er and o'er; }
Pray give us leave to bubble you once more; }
You never were so cheaply fooled before: }
We bring you change, to humour your disease;
Change for the worse has ever used to please:
Then, 'tis the mode of France; without whose rules,
None must presume to set up here for fools.
In France, the oldest man is always young,
Sees operas daily, learns the tunes so long,
Till foot, hand, head, keep time with every song:
Each sings his part, echoing from pit and box,
With his hoarse voice, half harmony, half pox[1].
_Le plus grand roi du monde_ is always ringing,
They show themselves good subjects by their singing:
On that condition, set up every throat;
You whigs may sing, for you have changed your note.
Cits and citesses, raise a joyful strain,
'Tis a good omen to begin a reign;
Voices may help your charter to restoring,
And get by singing, what you lost by roaring.
Footnote:
1. This practice continued at the opera of Paris in the time of Gay.
It could hardly have obtained any where else.
"But, hark! the full orchestra strikes the strings,
The hero struts, and the whole audience sings;
My jarring ear harsh grating murmurs wound.
Hoarse and confused, like Babel's mingled sound.
Hard chance had placed me near a noisy throat,
That, in rough quavers, bellowed every note:
"Pray, Sir," said I, "suspend awhile your song,
The opera's drowned, your lungs are wondrous strong;
I wish to hear your Roland's ranting strain,
When he with rooted forests strews the plain. "--
"_Monsieur assurement n'aime pas la musique. _"
Then turning round, he joined the ungrateful noise,
And the loud chorus thundered with his voice. "
_Epistle to the Right Hon. William Pulteney. _
Names of the Persons, represented in the same
order as they appear first upon the stage.
MERCURY.
AUGUSTA. _London. _
THAMESIS.
DEMOCRACY.
ZELOTA. _Feigned Zeal. _
ARCHON. _The General. _
JUNO.
IRIS.
ALBION.
ALBANIUS.
PLUTO.
ALECTO.
APOLLO.
NEPTUNE.
NEREIDS.
ACACIA. _Innocence. _
TYRANNY.
ASEBIA. _Atheism,_ or _Ungodliness. _
PROTEUS.
VENUS.
FAME.
_A Chorus of Cities. _
_A Chorus of Rivers. _
_A Chorus of the People. _
_A Chorus of Furies. _
_A Chorus of Nereids and Tritons. _
_A grand Chorus of Heroes, Loves, and Graces. _
THE
FRONTISPIECE.
The curtain rises, and a new frontispiece is seen, joined to the great
pilasters, which are seen on each side of the stage: on the flat of
each basis is a shield, adorned with gold; in the middle of the
shield, on one side, are two hearts, a small scroll of gold over them,
and an imperial crown over the scroll; on the other hand, in the
shield, are two quivers full of arrows saltyre, &c. ; upon each basis
stands a figure bigger than the life; one represents Peace, with a
palm in one, and an olive branch in the other hand; the other Plenty,
holding a cornucopia, and resting on a pillar. Behind these figures
are large columns of the Corinthian order, adorned with fruit and
flowers: over one of the figures on the trees is the king's cypher;
over the other, the queen's: over the capitals, on the cornice, sits a
figure on each side; one represents Poetry, crowned with laurel,
holding a scroll in one hand, the other with a pen in it, and resting
on a book; the other, Painting, with a pallet and pencils, &c. : on the
sweep of the arch lies one of the Muses, playing on a bass-viol;
another of the Muses, on the other side, holding a trumpet in one
hand, and the other on a harp. Between these figures, in the middle of
the sweep of the arch, is a very large pannel in a frame of gold; in
this pannel is painted, on one side, a Woman, representing the city of
London, leaning her head on her hand in a dejected posture, showing
her sorrow and penitence for her offences; the other hand holds the
arms of the city, and a mace lying under it: on the other side is a
figure of the Thames, with his legs shackled, and leaning on an empty
urn: behind these are two imperial figures; one representing his
present majesty; and the other the queen: by the king stands Pallas,
(or wisdom and valour,) holding a charter for the city, the king
extending his hand, as raising her drooping head, and restoring her to
her ancient honour and glory: over the city are the envious devouring
Harpies flying from the face of his majesty: By the queen stand the
Three Graces, holding garlands of flowers, and at her feet Cupids
bound, with their bows and arrows broken, the queen pointing with her
sceptre to the river, and commanding the Graces to take off their
fetters. Over the king, in a scroll, is this verse of Virgil,
_Discite justitiam, moniti, et non temnere divos. _
Over the queen, this of the same author,
_Non ignara mali, miscris succurrere disco. _
ALBION AND ALBANIUS.
AN
OPERA.
DECORATIONS OF THE STAGE IN THE FIRST ACT.
_The Curtain rises, and there appears on either side of the Stage,
next to the Frontispiece, a Statue on Horseback of Gold, on Pedestals
of Marble, enriched with Gold, and bearing the Imperial Arms of
England. One of these Statues is taken from that of the late King at
Charing-cross; the other from that figure of his present Majesty (done
by that noble Artist, Mr. Gibbons) at Windsor. _
_The Scene is a Street of Palaces, which lead to the Front of the
Royal-Exchange; the great Arch is open, and the view is continued
through the open part of the Exchange, to the Arch on the other side,
and thence to as much of the Street beyond, as could possibly be
taken. _
MERCURY DESCENDS IN A CHARIOT DRAWN BY RAVENS.
_He comes to Augusta and Thamesis. They lie on Couches at a distance
from each other in dejected postures; She attended by Cities, He by
Rivers. _
_On the side of Augusta's Couch are painted towers falling, a Scarlet
Gown, and a Gold Chain, a Cap of Maintenance thrown down, and a Sword
in a Velvet Scabbard thrust through it, the City Arms, a Mace with an
old useless Charter, and all in disorder. Before Thamesis are broken
Reeds, Bull-rushes, Sedge, &c. with his Urn Reverst. _
ACT I.
MERCURY _Descends. _
_Mer. _ Thou glorious fabric! stand, for ever stand:
Well worthy thou to entertain
The God of Traffic, and of Gain,
To draw the concourse of the land,
And wealth of all the main.
But where the shoals of merchants meeting?
Welcome to their friends repeating,
Busy bargains' deafer sound?
Tongue confused of every nation?
Nothing here but desolation,
Mournful silence reigns around.
_Aug. _ O Hermes! pity me!
I was, while heaven did smile,
The queen of all this isle,
Europe's pride,
And Albion's bride;
But gone my plighted lord! ah, gone is he!
O Hermes! pity me!
_Tham. _ And I the noble Flood, whose tributary tide
Does on her silver margent smoothly glide;
But heaven grew jealous of our happy state,
And bid revolving fate
Our doom decree;
No more the King of Floods am I,
No more the Queen of Albion, she!
[_These two Lines are sung by Reprises
betwixt_ AUGUSTA _and_ THAMESIS.
_Aug. _ O Hermes! pity me! } _Sung by_ AUG. _and_
} THAM. _together. _
_Tham. _ O Hermes! pity me! }
_Aug. _ Behold!
_Tham. _ Behold!
_Aug. _ My turrets on the ground,
That once my temples crowned!
_Tham.
_ The sedgy honours of my brows dispersed!
My urn reversed!
_Merc. _ Rise, rise, Augusta, rise!
And wipe thy weeping eyes:
Augusta! --for I call thee so:
'Tis lawful for the gods to know
Thy future name,
And growing fame.
Rise, rise, Augusta, rise.
_Aug. _ O never, never will I rise,
Never will I cease my mourning,
Never wipe my weeping eyes,
Till my plighted lord's returning!
Never, never will I rise!
_Merc. _ What brought thee, wretch, to this despair?
The cause of thy misfortune show.
_Aug. _ It seems the gods take little care
Of human things below,
When even our sufferings here they do not know.
_Merc. _ Not unknowing came I down,
Disloyal town!
Speak! didst not thou
Forsake thy faith, and break thy nuptial vow?
_Aug. _ Ah, 'tis too true! too true!
But what could I, unthinking city, do?
Faction swayed me,
Zeal allured me,
Both assured me.
Both betrayed me!
_Merc. _ Suppose me sent
Thy Albion to restore,--
Can'st thou repent?
_Aug. _ My falsehood I deplore!
_Tham. _ Thou seest her mourn, and I
With all my waters will her tears supply.
_Merc. _ Then by some loyal deed regain
Thy long-lost reputation,
To wash away the stain
That blots a noble nation,
And free thy famous town again
From force of usurpation.
_Chorus of all. _ We'll wash away the stain
That blots a noble nation,
And free this famous town again
From force of usurpation. [_Dance of the Followers of_ MERCURY.
_Aug. _ Behold Democracy and Zeal appear;
She, that allured my heart away,
And he, that after made a prey.
_Merc. _ Resist, and do not fear!
_Chorus of all. _ Resist, and do not fear!
_Enter_ DEMOCRACY _and_ ZEAL _attended by_ ARCHON.
_Democ. _ Nymph of the city! bring thy treasures,
Bring me more
To waste in pleasures.
_Aug. _ Thou hast exhausted all my store,
And I can give no more.
_Zeal. _ Thou horny flood, for Zeal provide
A new supply; and swell thy moony tide,
That on thy buxom back the floating gold may glide.
_Tham. _ Not all the gold the southern sun produces,
Or treasures of the famed Levant,
Suffice for pious uses,
To feed the sacred hunger of a saint!
_Democ. _ Woe to the vanquished, woe!
Slave as thou art,
Thy wealth impart,
And me thy victor know!
_Zeal. _ And me thy victor know.
Resistless arms are in my hand,
Thy bars shall burst at my command,
Thy tory head lie low.
Woe to the vanquished, woe!
_Aug. _ Were I not bound by fate
For ever, ever here,
My walls I would translate
To some more happy sphere,
Removed from servile fear.
_Tham. _ Removed from servile fear.
Would I could disappear,
And sink below the main;
For commonwealth's a load,
My old imperial flood
Shall never, never bear again.
A commonwealth's a load, } THAMES. _and_
Our old imperial flood, } AUG. _together. _
Shall never, never, never, bear again. }
_Dem. _ Pull down her gates, expose her bare;
I must enjoy the proud disdainful fair.
Haste, Archon, haste
To lay her waste[1]!
_Zeal. _ I'll hold her fast
To be embraced!
_Dem. _ And she shall see
A thousand tyrants are in thee,
A thousand thousand more in me!
_Archon. _ to _Aug. _ From the Caledonian shore
Hither am I come to save thee,
Not to force or to enslave thee,
But thy Albion to restore:
Hark! the peals the people ring,
Peace, and freedom, and a king.
_Chorus. _ Hark! the peals the people ring,
Peace, and freedom, and a king.
_Aug. _ and _Tham. _ To arms! to arms!
_Archon. _ I lead the way!
_Merc. _ Cease your alarms!
And stay, brave Archon, stay!
'Tis doomed by fate's decree,
'Tis doomed that Albion's dwelling,
All other isles excelling,
By peace shall happy be.
_Archon. _ What then remains for me?
_Merc. _ Take my caduceus! Take this awful wand,
With this the infernal ghosts I can command,
And strike a terror through the Stygian land.
Commonwealth will want pretences,
Sleep will creep on all his senses;
Zeal that lent him her assistance,
Stand amazed without resistance.
[ARCHON _touches_ DEMOCRACY _with a Wand. _
_Dem. _ I feel a lazy slumber lays me down:
Let Albion, let him take the crown.
Happy let him reign,
Till I wake again. [_Falls asleep. _
_Zeal. _ In vain I rage, in vain
I rouse my powers;
But I shall wake again,
I shall, to better hours.
Even in slumber will I vex him;
Still perplex him,
Still incumber:
Know, you that have adored him,
And sovereign power afford him,
We'll reap the gains
Of all your pains,
And seem to have restored him. [ZEAL _falls asleep. _
_Aug. _ and _Tham. _ A stupifying sadness
Leaves her without motion;
But sleep will cure her madness,
And cool her to devotion.
_A double Pedestal rises: on the Front of it is painted, in
Stone-colour, two Women; one holding a double-faced Vizor; the other
a Book, representing_ HYPOCRISY _and_ FANATICISM; _when_ ARCHON _has
charmed_ DEMOCRACY _and_ ZEAL _with the Caduceus of_ MERCURY, _they
fall asleep on the Pedestal, and it sinks with them. _
_Merc. _ Cease, Augusta! cease thy mourning,
Happy days appear;
God-like Albion is returning
Loyal hearts to chear.
Every grace his youth adorning,
Glorious as the star of morning,
Or the planet of the year.
_Chor. _ Godlike Albion is returning, &c.
_Merc. _ to _Arch. _ Haste away, loyal chief, haste away,
No delay, but obey;
To receive thy loved lord, haste away. [_Ex. _ ARCH.
_Tham. _ Medway and Isis, you that augment me,
Tides that increase my watery store,
And you that are friends to peace and plenty,
Send my merry boys all ashore;
Seamen skipping,
Mariners leaping,
Shouting, tripping,
Send my merry boys all ashore!
_A dance of Watermen in the King's and Duke's Liveries. _
_The Clouds divide, and_ JUNO _appears in a Machine drawn by
Peacocks; while a Symphony is playing, it moves gently forward, and
as it descends, it opens and discovers the Tail of the Peacock,
which is so large, that it almost fills the opening of the Stage
between Scene and Scene. _
_Merc. _ The clouds divide; what wonders,
What wonders do I see!
The wife of Jove! 'Tis she,
That thunders, more than thundering he!
_Juno. _ No, Hermes, no;
'Tis peace above
As 'tis below;
For Jove has left his wand'ring love.
_Tham. _ Great queen of gathering clouds,
Whose moisture fills our floods,
See, we fall before thee,
Prostrate we adore thee!
_Aug. _ Great queen of nuptial rites,
Whose power the souls unites,
And fills the genial bed with chaste delights,
See, we fall before thee,
Prostrate we adore thee!
_Juno. _ 'Tis ratified above by every god,
And Jove has firmed it with an awful nod,
That Albion shall his love renew:
But oh, ungrateful fair,
Repeated crimes beware,
And to his bed be true!
IRIS _appears on a very large Machine. This was really seen the 18th
of March, 1684, by Captain_ Christopher Gunman, _on Board his R. H.
Yacht, then in Calais Pierre: He drew it as it then appeared, and
gave a Draught of it to us. We have only added the Cloud where the
Person of_ IRIS _sits. _
_Juno. _ Speak, Iris, from Batavia, speak the news!
Has he performed my dread command,
Returning Albion to his longing land,
Or dare the nymph refuse?
_Iris. _ Albion, by the nymph attended,
Was to Neptune recommended;
Peace and Plenty spread the sails,
Venus, in her shell before him,
From the sands in safety bore him,
And supplied Etesian gales. [_Retornella. _
Archon, on the shore commanding,
Lowly met him at his landing,
Crowds of people swarmed around;
Welcome rang like peals of thunder;
Welcome, rent the skies asunder;
Welcome, heaven and earth resound.
_Juno. _ Why stay we then on earth,
When mortals laugh and love?
'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astræa down,
The ruler of his birth,
And guardian of his crown.
'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astræa down.
_Mer. Jun. Ir. _ 'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astræa down. [MER. JU. _and_ IR. _ascend. _
_Aug. _ and _Tham. _ The royal squadron marches,
Erect triumphal arches,
For Albion and Albanius;
Rejoice at their returning,
The passages adorning:
The royal squadron marches,
Erect triumphal arches
For Albion and Albanius.
_Part of the Scene disappears, and the Four Triumphal arches,
erected on his Majesty's Coronation, are seen. _
ALBION _appears,_ ALBANIUS _by his Side, preceded by_ ARCHON,
_followed by a Train, &c. _
_Full Chorus. _ Hail, royal Albion, Hail!
_Aug. _ Hail, royal Albion, hail to thee,
Thy longing people's expectation!
_Tham. _ Sent from the gods to set us free
From bondage and from usurpation!
_Aug. _ To pardon and to pity me,
And to forgive a guilty nation!
_Tham. _ Behold the differing Climes agree,
Rejoicing in thy restoration.
Entry. _Representing the Four Parts of the World, rejoicing at the
Restoration of_ ALBION.
ACT II.
_The Scene is a Poetical Hell. The Change is total; The Upper Part
of the House, as well as the Side-Scenes. There is the Figure of_
PROMETHEUS _chained to a Rock, the Vulture gnawing his Liver;_
SISYPHUS _rolling the Stone; the_ BELIDES, _&c. Beyond, Abundance of
Figures in various Torments. Then a great Arch of Fire. Behind this,
three Pyramids of Flames in perpetual Agitation. Beyond this,
glowing Fire, which terminates the Prospect. _
PLUTO, _and the_ FURIES; _with_ ALECTO, DEMOCRACY, _and_ ZELOTA.
_Plu. _ Infernal offspring of the night,
Debarred of heaven your native right,
And from the glorious fields of light,
Condemned in shades to drag the chain,
And fill with groans the gloomy plain;
Since, pleasures here are none below,
Be ill our good, our joy be woe;
Our work to embroil the worlds above,
Disturb their union, disunite their love,
And blast the beauteous frame of our victorious foe.
_Dem. _ and _Zel. _ O thou, for whom those worlds are made,
Thou sire of all things, and their end,
From hence they spring, and when they fade,
In shuffled heaps they hither tend;
Here human souls receive their breath,
And wait for bodies after death.
_Dem. _ Hear our complaint, and grant our prayer.
_Plu. _ Speak what you are,
And whence you fell?
_Dem. _ I am thy first-begotten care,
Conceived in heaven, but born in hell.
When thou didst bravely undertake in fight
Yon arbitrary power,
That rules by sovereign might,
To set thy heaven-born fellows free,
And leave no difference in degree,
In that auspicious hour
Was I begot by thee.
_Zel.
must foretel, Mercury must charm with his caduceus, and Juno must
reconcile the quarrels of the marriage-bed; to conclude, they must all
act according to their distinct and peculiar characters. If the
persons represented were to speak upon the stage, it would follow, of
necessity, that the expressions should be lofty, figurative, and
majestical: but the nature of an opera denies the frequent use of
these poetical ornaments; for vocal music, though it often admits a
loftiness of sound, yet always exacts an harmonious sweetness; or, to
distinguish yet more justly, the recitative part of the opera requires
a more masculine beauty of expression and sound. The other, which, for
want of a proper English word, I must call the _songish part_, must
abound in the softness and variety of numbers; its principal intention
being to please the hearing, rather than to gratify the understanding.
It appears, indeed, preposterous at first sight, that rhyme, on any
consideration, should take place of reason; but, in order to resolve
the problem, this fundamental proposition must be settled, that the
first inventors of any art or science, provided they have brought it
to perfection, are, in reason, to give laws to it; and, according to
their model, all after-undertakers are to build. Thus, in epic poetry,
no man ought to dispute the authority of Homer, who gave the first
being to that masterpiece of art, and endued it with that form of
perfection in all its parts, that nothing was wanting to its
excellency. Virgil therefore, and those very few who have succeeded
him, endeavoured not to introduce, or innovate, any thing in a design
already perfected, but imitated the plan of the inventor; and are only
so far true heroic poets, as they have built on the foundations of
Homer. Thus, Pindar, the author of those Odes, which are so admirably
restored by Mr Cowley in our language, ought for ever to be the
standard of them; and we are bound, according to the practice of
Horace and Mr Cowley, to copy him. Now, to apply this axiom to our
present purpose, whosoever undertakes the writing of an opera, which
is a modern invention, though built indeed on the foundation of ethnic
worship, is obliged to imitate the design of the Italians, who have
not only invented, but brought to perfection, this sort of dramatic
musical entertainment. I have not been able, by any search, to get any
light, either of the time when it began, or of the first author; but I
have probable reasons, which induce me to believe, that some Italians,
having curiously observed the gallantries of the Spanish Moors at
their zambras, or royal feasts, where music, songs, and dancing, were
in perfection, together with their machines, which are usual at their
_sortija_, or running at the ring, and other solemnities, may possibly
have refined upon those moresque divertisements, and produced this
delightful entertainment, by leaving out the warlike part of the
carousals, and forming a poetical design for the use of the machines,
the songs, and dances. But however it began, (for this is only
conjectural,) we know, that, for some centuries, the knowledge of
music has flourished principally in Italy, the mother of learning and
of arts[2]; that poetry and painting have been there restored, and so
cultivated by Italian masters, that all Europe has been enriched out
of their treasury; and the other parts of it, in relation to those
delightful arts, are still as much provincial to Italy, as they were
in the time of the Roman empire. Their first operas seem to have been
intended for the celebration of the marriages of their princes, or for
the magnificence of some general time of joy; accordingly, the
expences of them were from the purse of the sovereign, or of the
republic, as they are still practised at Venice, Rome, and at other
places, at their carnivals. Savoy and Florence have often used them in
their courts, at the weddings of their dukes; and at Turin
particularly, was performed the "Pastor Fido," written by the famous
Guarini, which is a pastoral opera made to solemnise the marriage of a
Duke of Savoy. The prologue of it has given the design to all the
French; which is a compliment to the sovereign power by some god or
goddess; so that it looks no less than a kind of embassy from heaven
to earth. I said in the beginning of this preface, that the persons
represented in operas are generally gods, goddesses, and heroes
descended from them, who are supposed to be their peculiar care; which
hinders not, but that meaner persons may sometimes gracefully be
introduced, especially if they have relation to those first times,
which poets call the Golden Age; wherein, by reason of their
innocence, those happy mortals were supposed to have had a more
familiar intercourse with superior beings; and therefore shepherds
might reasonably be admitted, as of all callings the most innocent,
the most happy, and who, by reason of the spare time they had, in
their almost idle employment, had most leisure to make verses, and to
be in love; without somewhat of which passion, no opera can possibly
subsist.
It is almost needless to speak any thing of that noble language, in
which this musical drama was first invented and performed. All, who
are conversant in the Italian, cannot but observe, that it is the
softest, the sweetest, the most harmonious, not only of any modern
tongue, but even beyond any of the learned. It seems indeed to have
been invented for the sake of poetry and music; the vowels are so
abounding in all words, especially in terminations of them, that,
excepting some few monosyllables, the whole language ends in them.
Then the pronunciation is so manly, and so sonorous, that their very
speaking has more of music in it than Dutch poetry and song. It has
withal derived, so much copiousness and eloquence from the Greek and
Latin, in the composition of words, and the formation of them, that
if, after all, we must call it barbarous, it is the most beautiful and
most learned of any barbarism in modern tongues; and we may, at least,
as justly praise it, as Pyrrhus did the Roman discipline and martial
order, that it was of barbarians, (for so the Greeks called all other
nations,) but had nothing in it of barbarity. This language has in a
manner been refined and purified from the Gothic ever since the time
of Dante, which is above four hundred years ago; and the French, who
now cast a longing eye to their country, are not less ambitious to
possess their elegance in poetry and music; in both which they labour
at impossibilities. It is true, indeed, they have reformed their
tongue, and brought both their prose and poetry to a standard; the
sweetness, as well as the purity, is much improved, by throwing off
the unnecessary consonants, which made their spelling tedious and
their pronunciation harsh: but, after all, as nothing can be improved
beyond its own _species_, or farther than its original nature will
allow; as an ill voice, though ever so thoroughly instructed in the
rules of music, can never be brought to sing harmoniously, nor many an
honest critic ever arrive to be a good poet; so neither can the
natural harshness of the French, or their perpetual ill accent, be
ever refined into perfect harmony like the Italian. The English has
yet more natural disadvantages than the French; our original Teutonic,
consisting most in monosyllables, and those incumbered with
consonants, cannot possibly be freed from those inconveniencies. The
rest of our words, which are derived from the Latin chiefly, and the
French, with some small sprinklings of Greek, Italian, and Spanish,
are some relief in poetry, and help us to soften our uncouth numbers;
which, together with our English genius, incomparably beyond the
trifling of the French, in all the nobler parts of verse, will justly
give us the pre-eminence. But, on the other hand, the effeminacy of
our pronunciation, (a defect common to us and to the Danes,) and our
scarcity of female rhymes, have left the advantage of musical
composition for songs, though not for recitative, to our neighbours.
Through these difficulties I have made a shift to struggle in my part
of the performance of this opera; which, as mean as it is, deserves at
least a pardon, because it has attempted a discovery beyond any former
undertaker of our nation; only remember, that if there be no
north-east passage to be found, the fault is in nature, and not in me;
or, as Ben Jonson tells us in "The Alchymist," when projection had
failed, and the glasses were all broken, there was enough, however, in
the bottoms of them, to cure the itch; so I may thus be positive, that
if I have not succeeded as I desire, yet there is somewhat still
remaining to satisfy the curiosity, or itch of sight and hearing. Yet
I have no great reason to despair; for I may, without vanity, own some
advantages, which are not common to every writer; such as are the
knowledge of the Italian and French language, and the being conversant
with some of their best performances in this kind; which have
furnished me with such variety of measures as have given the composer,
Monsieur Grabut, what occasions he could wish, to shew his
extraordinary talent in diversifying the recitative, the lyrical part,
and the chorus; in all which, not to attribute any thing to my own
opinion, the best judges and those too of the best quality, who have
honoured his rehearsals with their presence, have no less commended
the happiness of his genius than his skill. And let me have the
liberty to add one thing, that he has so exactly expressed my sense in
all places where I intended to move the passions, that he seems to
have entered into my thoughts, and to have been the poet as well as
the composer. This I say, not to flatter him, but to do him right;
because amongst some English musicians, and their scholars, who are
sure to judge after them, the imputation of being a Frenchman is
enough to make a party, who maliciously endeavour to decry him. But
the knowledge of Latin and Italian poets, both which he possesses,
besides his skill in music, and his being acquainted with all the
performances of the French operas, adding to these the good sense to
which he is born, have raised him to a degree above any man, who shall
pretend to be his rival on our stage. When any of our countrymen excel
him, I shall be glad, for the sake of old England, to be shewn my
error; in the mean time, let virtue be commended, though in the person
of a stranger[3].
If I thought it convenient, I could here discover some rules which I
have given to myself in writing of an opera in general, and of this
opera in particular; but I consider, that the effect would only be, to
have my own performance measured by the laws I gave; and,
consequently, to set up some little judges, who, not understanding
thoroughly, would be sure to fall upon the faults, and not to
acknowledge any of the beauties; an hard measure, which I have often
found from false critics. Here, therefore, if they will criticise,
they shall do it out of their own _fond_; but let them first be
assured that their ears are nice; for there is neither writing nor
judgment on this subject without that good quality. It is no easy
matter, in our language, to make words so smooth, and numbers so
harmonious, that they shall almost set themselves. And yet there are
rules for this in nature, and as great a certainty of quantity in our
syllables, as either in the Greek or Latin: but let poets and judges
understand those first, and then let them begin to study English. When
they have chewed a while upon these preliminaries, it may be they will
scarce adventure to tax me with want of thought and elevation of fancy
in this work; for they will soon be satisfied, that those are not of
the nature of this sort of writing. The necessity of double rhimes,
and ordering of the words and numbers for the sweetness of the voice,
are the main hinges on which an opera must move; and both of these are
without the compass of any art to teach another to perform, unless
nature, in the first place, has done her part, by enduing the poet
with that nicety of hearing, that the discord of sounds in words shall
as much offend him, as a seventh in music would a good composer. I
have therefore no need to make excuses for meanness of thought in many
places: the Italians, with all the advantages of their language, are
continually forced upon it, or, rather, affect it. The chief secret is
the choice of words; and, by this choice, I do not here mean elegancy
of expression, but propriety of sound, to be varied according to the
nature of the subject. Perhaps a time may come when I may treat of
this more largely, out of some observations which I have made from
Homer and Virgil, who, amongst all the poets, only understood the art
of numbers, and of that which was properly called _rhythmus_ by the
ancients.
The same reasons, which depress thought in an opera, have a stronger
effect upon the words, especially in our language; for there is no
maintaining the purity of English in short measures, where the rhime
returns so quick, and is so often female, or double rhime, which is
not natural to our tongue, because it consists too much of
monosyllables, and those, too, most commonly clogged with consonants;
for which reason I am often forced to coin new words, revive some that
are antiquated, and botch others; as if I had not served out my time
in poetry, but was bound apprentice to some doggrel rhimer, who makes
songs to tunes, and sings them for a livelihood. It is true, I have
not been often put to this drudgery; but where I have, the words will
sufficiently shew, that I was then a slave to the composition, which I
will never be again: it is my part to invent, and the musician's to
humour that invention. I may be counselled, and will always follow my
friend's advice where I find it reasonable, but will never part with
the power of the militia[4].
I am now to acquaint my reader with somewhat more particular
concerning this opera, after having begged his pardon for so long a
preface to so short a work. It was originally intended only for a
prologue to a play of the nature of "The Tempest;" which is a tragedy
mixed with opera, or a drama, written in blank verse, adorned with
scenes, machines, songs, and dances, so that the fable of it is all
spoken and acted by the best of the comedians; the other part of the
entertainment to be performed by the same singers and dancers who were
introduced in this present opera. It cannot properly be called a play,
because the action of it is supposed to be conducted sometimes by
supernatural means, or magic; nor an opera, because the story of it is
not sung. --But more of this at its proper time. --But some intervening
accidents having hitherto deferred the performance of the main design,
I proposed to the actors, to turn the intended Prologue into an
entertainment by itself, as you now see it, by adding two acts more to
what I had already written. The subject of it is wholly allegorical;
and the allegory itself so very obvious, that it will no sooner be
read than understood. It is divided, according to the plain and
natural method of every action, into three parts. For even Aristotle
himself is contented to say simply, that in all actions there is a
beginning, a middle, and an end; after which model all the Spanish
plays are built.
The descriptions of the scenes, and other decorations of the stage, I
had from Mr Betterton, who has spared neither for industry, nor cost,
to make this entertainment perfect, nor for invention of the ornaments
to beautify it.
To conclude, though the enemies of the composer are not few, and that
there is a party formed against him of his own profession, I hope, and
am persuaded, that this prejudice will turn in the end to his
advantage. For the greatest part of an audience is always
uninterested, though seldom knowing; and if the music be well
composed, and well performed, they, who find themselves pleased, will
be so wise as not to be imposed upon, and fooled out of their
satisfaction. The newness of the undertaking is all the hazard. When
operas were first set up in France, they were not followed over
eagerly; but they gained daily upon their hearers, till they grew to
that height of reputation, which they now enjoy. The English, I
confess, are not altogether so musical as the French; and yet they
have been pleased already with "The Tempest," and some pieces that
followed, which were neither much better written, nor so well composed
as this. If it finds encouragement, I dare promise myself to mend my
hand, by making a more pleasing fable. In the mean time, every loyal
Englishman cannot but be satisfied with the moral of this, which so
plainly represents the double restoration of His Sacred Majesty.
POSTSCRIPT.
This preface being wholly written before the death of my late royal
master, (_quem semper acerbum, semper honoratum, sic dii voluistis,
habebo_) I have now lately reviewed it, as supposing I should find
many notions in it, that would require correction on cooler thoughts.
After four months lying by me, I looked on it as no longer mine,
because I had wholly forgotten it; but I confess with some
satisfaction, and perhaps a little vanity, that I found myself
entertained by it; my own judgment was new to me, and pleased me when
I looked on it as another man's. I see no opinion that I would retract
or alter, unless it be, that possibly the Italians went not so far as
Spain, for the invention of their operas. They might have it in their
own country; and that by gathering up the shipwrecks of the Athenian
and Roman theatres, which we know were adorned with scenes, music,
dances, and machines, especially the Grecian. But of this the learned
Monsieur Vossius, who has made our nation his second country, is the
best, and perhaps the only judge now living. As for the opera itself,
it was all composed, and was just ready to have been performed, when
he, in honour of whom it was principally made, was taken from us.
He had been pleased twice or thrice to command, that it should be
practised before him, especially the first and third acts of it; and
publicly declared more than once, that the composition and choruses
were more just, and more beautiful, than any he had heard in England.
How nice an ear he had in music, is sufficiently known; his praise
therefore has established the reputation of it above censure, and made
it in a manner sacred. It is therefore humbly and religiously
dedicated to his memory.
It might reasonably have been expected that his death must have
changed the whole fabric of the opera, or at least a great part of it.
But the design of it originally was so happy, that it needed no
alteration, properly so called; for the addition of twenty or thirty
lines in the apotheosis of Albion, has made it entirely of a piece,
This was the only way which could have been invented, to save it from
botched ending; and it fell luckily into my imagination; as if there
were a kind of fatality even in the most trivial things concerning the
succession: a change was made, and not for the worse, without the
least confusion or disturbance; and those very causes, which seemed to
threaten us with troubles, conspired to produce our lasting happiness.
Footnotes:
1. This definition occurs in the preface to the "State of Innocence;"
but although given by Dryden, and sanctioned by Pope, it has a very
limited resemblance to that which is defined. Mr Addison has,
however, mistaken Dryden, in supposing that he applied this
definition exclusively to what we now properly call _wit_. From the
context it is plain, that he meant to include all poetical
composition. --_Spectator_, No. 62. The word once comprehended human
knowledge in general. We still talk of the wit of man, to signify
all that man can devise.
2. The first Italian opera is said to have been that of "Dafne,"
performed at Florence in 1597. --_See_ BURNEY'S _History of Music_,
Vol. iv. p. 17.
3. This passage gave great offence, being supposed to contain an
oblique reflection on Purcell and the other English composers.
4. Alluding to the disputes betwixt the King and Parliament, on the
important point of the command of the militia. ]
PROLOGUE
Full twenty years, and more, our labouring stage
Has lost, on this incorrigible age:
Our poets, the John Ketches of the nation,
Have seemed to lash ye, even to excoriation;
But still no sign remains; which plainly notes,
You bore like heroes, or you bribed like Oates. --
What can we do, when mimicking a fop,
Like beating nut-trees, makes a larger crop?
'Faith, we'll e'en spare our pains! and, to content you,
Will fairly leave you what your Maker meant you.
Satire was once your physic, wit your food;
One nourished not, and t'other drew no blood:
We now prescribe, like doctors in despair,
The diet your weak appetites can bear.
Since hearty beef and mutton will not do,
Here's julep-dance, ptisan of song and show:
Give you strong sense, the liquor is too heady;
You're come to farce,--that's asses milk,--already.
Some hopeful youths there are, of callow wit,
Who one day may be men, if heaven think fit;
Sound may serve such, ere they to sense are grown,
Like leading-strings, till they can walk alone. --
But yet, to keep our friends in countenance, know,
The wise Italians first invented show;
Thence into France the noble pageant past:
'Tis England's credit to be cozened last.
Freedom and zeal have choused you o'er and o'er; }
Pray give us leave to bubble you once more; }
You never were so cheaply fooled before: }
We bring you change, to humour your disease;
Change for the worse has ever used to please:
Then, 'tis the mode of France; without whose rules,
None must presume to set up here for fools.
In France, the oldest man is always young,
Sees operas daily, learns the tunes so long,
Till foot, hand, head, keep time with every song:
Each sings his part, echoing from pit and box,
With his hoarse voice, half harmony, half pox[1].
_Le plus grand roi du monde_ is always ringing,
They show themselves good subjects by their singing:
On that condition, set up every throat;
You whigs may sing, for you have changed your note.
Cits and citesses, raise a joyful strain,
'Tis a good omen to begin a reign;
Voices may help your charter to restoring,
And get by singing, what you lost by roaring.
Footnote:
1. This practice continued at the opera of Paris in the time of Gay.
It could hardly have obtained any where else.
"But, hark! the full orchestra strikes the strings,
The hero struts, and the whole audience sings;
My jarring ear harsh grating murmurs wound.
Hoarse and confused, like Babel's mingled sound.
Hard chance had placed me near a noisy throat,
That, in rough quavers, bellowed every note:
"Pray, Sir," said I, "suspend awhile your song,
The opera's drowned, your lungs are wondrous strong;
I wish to hear your Roland's ranting strain,
When he with rooted forests strews the plain. "--
"_Monsieur assurement n'aime pas la musique. _"
Then turning round, he joined the ungrateful noise,
And the loud chorus thundered with his voice. "
_Epistle to the Right Hon. William Pulteney. _
Names of the Persons, represented in the same
order as they appear first upon the stage.
MERCURY.
AUGUSTA. _London. _
THAMESIS.
DEMOCRACY.
ZELOTA. _Feigned Zeal. _
ARCHON. _The General. _
JUNO.
IRIS.
ALBION.
ALBANIUS.
PLUTO.
ALECTO.
APOLLO.
NEPTUNE.
NEREIDS.
ACACIA. _Innocence. _
TYRANNY.
ASEBIA. _Atheism,_ or _Ungodliness. _
PROTEUS.
VENUS.
FAME.
_A Chorus of Cities. _
_A Chorus of Rivers. _
_A Chorus of the People. _
_A Chorus of Furies. _
_A Chorus of Nereids and Tritons. _
_A grand Chorus of Heroes, Loves, and Graces. _
THE
FRONTISPIECE.
The curtain rises, and a new frontispiece is seen, joined to the great
pilasters, which are seen on each side of the stage: on the flat of
each basis is a shield, adorned with gold; in the middle of the
shield, on one side, are two hearts, a small scroll of gold over them,
and an imperial crown over the scroll; on the other hand, in the
shield, are two quivers full of arrows saltyre, &c. ; upon each basis
stands a figure bigger than the life; one represents Peace, with a
palm in one, and an olive branch in the other hand; the other Plenty,
holding a cornucopia, and resting on a pillar. Behind these figures
are large columns of the Corinthian order, adorned with fruit and
flowers: over one of the figures on the trees is the king's cypher;
over the other, the queen's: over the capitals, on the cornice, sits a
figure on each side; one represents Poetry, crowned with laurel,
holding a scroll in one hand, the other with a pen in it, and resting
on a book; the other, Painting, with a pallet and pencils, &c. : on the
sweep of the arch lies one of the Muses, playing on a bass-viol;
another of the Muses, on the other side, holding a trumpet in one
hand, and the other on a harp. Between these figures, in the middle of
the sweep of the arch, is a very large pannel in a frame of gold; in
this pannel is painted, on one side, a Woman, representing the city of
London, leaning her head on her hand in a dejected posture, showing
her sorrow and penitence for her offences; the other hand holds the
arms of the city, and a mace lying under it: on the other side is a
figure of the Thames, with his legs shackled, and leaning on an empty
urn: behind these are two imperial figures; one representing his
present majesty; and the other the queen: by the king stands Pallas,
(or wisdom and valour,) holding a charter for the city, the king
extending his hand, as raising her drooping head, and restoring her to
her ancient honour and glory: over the city are the envious devouring
Harpies flying from the face of his majesty: By the queen stand the
Three Graces, holding garlands of flowers, and at her feet Cupids
bound, with their bows and arrows broken, the queen pointing with her
sceptre to the river, and commanding the Graces to take off their
fetters. Over the king, in a scroll, is this verse of Virgil,
_Discite justitiam, moniti, et non temnere divos. _
Over the queen, this of the same author,
_Non ignara mali, miscris succurrere disco. _
ALBION AND ALBANIUS.
AN
OPERA.
DECORATIONS OF THE STAGE IN THE FIRST ACT.
_The Curtain rises, and there appears on either side of the Stage,
next to the Frontispiece, a Statue on Horseback of Gold, on Pedestals
of Marble, enriched with Gold, and bearing the Imperial Arms of
England. One of these Statues is taken from that of the late King at
Charing-cross; the other from that figure of his present Majesty (done
by that noble Artist, Mr. Gibbons) at Windsor. _
_The Scene is a Street of Palaces, which lead to the Front of the
Royal-Exchange; the great Arch is open, and the view is continued
through the open part of the Exchange, to the Arch on the other side,
and thence to as much of the Street beyond, as could possibly be
taken. _
MERCURY DESCENDS IN A CHARIOT DRAWN BY RAVENS.
_He comes to Augusta and Thamesis. They lie on Couches at a distance
from each other in dejected postures; She attended by Cities, He by
Rivers. _
_On the side of Augusta's Couch are painted towers falling, a Scarlet
Gown, and a Gold Chain, a Cap of Maintenance thrown down, and a Sword
in a Velvet Scabbard thrust through it, the City Arms, a Mace with an
old useless Charter, and all in disorder. Before Thamesis are broken
Reeds, Bull-rushes, Sedge, &c. with his Urn Reverst. _
ACT I.
MERCURY _Descends. _
_Mer. _ Thou glorious fabric! stand, for ever stand:
Well worthy thou to entertain
The God of Traffic, and of Gain,
To draw the concourse of the land,
And wealth of all the main.
But where the shoals of merchants meeting?
Welcome to their friends repeating,
Busy bargains' deafer sound?
Tongue confused of every nation?
Nothing here but desolation,
Mournful silence reigns around.
_Aug. _ O Hermes! pity me!
I was, while heaven did smile,
The queen of all this isle,
Europe's pride,
And Albion's bride;
But gone my plighted lord! ah, gone is he!
O Hermes! pity me!
_Tham. _ And I the noble Flood, whose tributary tide
Does on her silver margent smoothly glide;
But heaven grew jealous of our happy state,
And bid revolving fate
Our doom decree;
No more the King of Floods am I,
No more the Queen of Albion, she!
[_These two Lines are sung by Reprises
betwixt_ AUGUSTA _and_ THAMESIS.
_Aug. _ O Hermes! pity me! } _Sung by_ AUG. _and_
} THAM. _together. _
_Tham. _ O Hermes! pity me! }
_Aug. _ Behold!
_Tham. _ Behold!
_Aug. _ My turrets on the ground,
That once my temples crowned!
_Tham.
_ The sedgy honours of my brows dispersed!
My urn reversed!
_Merc. _ Rise, rise, Augusta, rise!
And wipe thy weeping eyes:
Augusta! --for I call thee so:
'Tis lawful for the gods to know
Thy future name,
And growing fame.
Rise, rise, Augusta, rise.
_Aug. _ O never, never will I rise,
Never will I cease my mourning,
Never wipe my weeping eyes,
Till my plighted lord's returning!
Never, never will I rise!
_Merc. _ What brought thee, wretch, to this despair?
The cause of thy misfortune show.
_Aug. _ It seems the gods take little care
Of human things below,
When even our sufferings here they do not know.
_Merc. _ Not unknowing came I down,
Disloyal town!
Speak! didst not thou
Forsake thy faith, and break thy nuptial vow?
_Aug. _ Ah, 'tis too true! too true!
But what could I, unthinking city, do?
Faction swayed me,
Zeal allured me,
Both assured me.
Both betrayed me!
_Merc. _ Suppose me sent
Thy Albion to restore,--
Can'st thou repent?
_Aug. _ My falsehood I deplore!
_Tham. _ Thou seest her mourn, and I
With all my waters will her tears supply.
_Merc. _ Then by some loyal deed regain
Thy long-lost reputation,
To wash away the stain
That blots a noble nation,
And free thy famous town again
From force of usurpation.
_Chorus of all. _ We'll wash away the stain
That blots a noble nation,
And free this famous town again
From force of usurpation. [_Dance of the Followers of_ MERCURY.
_Aug. _ Behold Democracy and Zeal appear;
She, that allured my heart away,
And he, that after made a prey.
_Merc. _ Resist, and do not fear!
_Chorus of all. _ Resist, and do not fear!
_Enter_ DEMOCRACY _and_ ZEAL _attended by_ ARCHON.
_Democ. _ Nymph of the city! bring thy treasures,
Bring me more
To waste in pleasures.
_Aug. _ Thou hast exhausted all my store,
And I can give no more.
_Zeal. _ Thou horny flood, for Zeal provide
A new supply; and swell thy moony tide,
That on thy buxom back the floating gold may glide.
_Tham. _ Not all the gold the southern sun produces,
Or treasures of the famed Levant,
Suffice for pious uses,
To feed the sacred hunger of a saint!
_Democ. _ Woe to the vanquished, woe!
Slave as thou art,
Thy wealth impart,
And me thy victor know!
_Zeal. _ And me thy victor know.
Resistless arms are in my hand,
Thy bars shall burst at my command,
Thy tory head lie low.
Woe to the vanquished, woe!
_Aug. _ Were I not bound by fate
For ever, ever here,
My walls I would translate
To some more happy sphere,
Removed from servile fear.
_Tham. _ Removed from servile fear.
Would I could disappear,
And sink below the main;
For commonwealth's a load,
My old imperial flood
Shall never, never bear again.
A commonwealth's a load, } THAMES. _and_
Our old imperial flood, } AUG. _together. _
Shall never, never, never, bear again. }
_Dem. _ Pull down her gates, expose her bare;
I must enjoy the proud disdainful fair.
Haste, Archon, haste
To lay her waste[1]!
_Zeal. _ I'll hold her fast
To be embraced!
_Dem. _ And she shall see
A thousand tyrants are in thee,
A thousand thousand more in me!
_Archon. _ to _Aug. _ From the Caledonian shore
Hither am I come to save thee,
Not to force or to enslave thee,
But thy Albion to restore:
Hark! the peals the people ring,
Peace, and freedom, and a king.
_Chorus. _ Hark! the peals the people ring,
Peace, and freedom, and a king.
_Aug. _ and _Tham. _ To arms! to arms!
_Archon. _ I lead the way!
_Merc. _ Cease your alarms!
And stay, brave Archon, stay!
'Tis doomed by fate's decree,
'Tis doomed that Albion's dwelling,
All other isles excelling,
By peace shall happy be.
_Archon. _ What then remains for me?
_Merc. _ Take my caduceus! Take this awful wand,
With this the infernal ghosts I can command,
And strike a terror through the Stygian land.
Commonwealth will want pretences,
Sleep will creep on all his senses;
Zeal that lent him her assistance,
Stand amazed without resistance.
[ARCHON _touches_ DEMOCRACY _with a Wand. _
_Dem. _ I feel a lazy slumber lays me down:
Let Albion, let him take the crown.
Happy let him reign,
Till I wake again. [_Falls asleep. _
_Zeal. _ In vain I rage, in vain
I rouse my powers;
But I shall wake again,
I shall, to better hours.
Even in slumber will I vex him;
Still perplex him,
Still incumber:
Know, you that have adored him,
And sovereign power afford him,
We'll reap the gains
Of all your pains,
And seem to have restored him. [ZEAL _falls asleep. _
_Aug. _ and _Tham. _ A stupifying sadness
Leaves her without motion;
But sleep will cure her madness,
And cool her to devotion.
_A double Pedestal rises: on the Front of it is painted, in
Stone-colour, two Women; one holding a double-faced Vizor; the other
a Book, representing_ HYPOCRISY _and_ FANATICISM; _when_ ARCHON _has
charmed_ DEMOCRACY _and_ ZEAL _with the Caduceus of_ MERCURY, _they
fall asleep on the Pedestal, and it sinks with them. _
_Merc. _ Cease, Augusta! cease thy mourning,
Happy days appear;
God-like Albion is returning
Loyal hearts to chear.
Every grace his youth adorning,
Glorious as the star of morning,
Or the planet of the year.
_Chor. _ Godlike Albion is returning, &c.
_Merc. _ to _Arch. _ Haste away, loyal chief, haste away,
No delay, but obey;
To receive thy loved lord, haste away. [_Ex. _ ARCH.
_Tham. _ Medway and Isis, you that augment me,
Tides that increase my watery store,
And you that are friends to peace and plenty,
Send my merry boys all ashore;
Seamen skipping,
Mariners leaping,
Shouting, tripping,
Send my merry boys all ashore!
_A dance of Watermen in the King's and Duke's Liveries. _
_The Clouds divide, and_ JUNO _appears in a Machine drawn by
Peacocks; while a Symphony is playing, it moves gently forward, and
as it descends, it opens and discovers the Tail of the Peacock,
which is so large, that it almost fills the opening of the Stage
between Scene and Scene. _
_Merc. _ The clouds divide; what wonders,
What wonders do I see!
The wife of Jove! 'Tis she,
That thunders, more than thundering he!
_Juno. _ No, Hermes, no;
'Tis peace above
As 'tis below;
For Jove has left his wand'ring love.
_Tham. _ Great queen of gathering clouds,
Whose moisture fills our floods,
See, we fall before thee,
Prostrate we adore thee!
_Aug. _ Great queen of nuptial rites,
Whose power the souls unites,
And fills the genial bed with chaste delights,
See, we fall before thee,
Prostrate we adore thee!
_Juno. _ 'Tis ratified above by every god,
And Jove has firmed it with an awful nod,
That Albion shall his love renew:
But oh, ungrateful fair,
Repeated crimes beware,
And to his bed be true!
IRIS _appears on a very large Machine. This was really seen the 18th
of March, 1684, by Captain_ Christopher Gunman, _on Board his R. H.
Yacht, then in Calais Pierre: He drew it as it then appeared, and
gave a Draught of it to us. We have only added the Cloud where the
Person of_ IRIS _sits. _
_Juno. _ Speak, Iris, from Batavia, speak the news!
Has he performed my dread command,
Returning Albion to his longing land,
Or dare the nymph refuse?
_Iris. _ Albion, by the nymph attended,
Was to Neptune recommended;
Peace and Plenty spread the sails,
Venus, in her shell before him,
From the sands in safety bore him,
And supplied Etesian gales. [_Retornella. _
Archon, on the shore commanding,
Lowly met him at his landing,
Crowds of people swarmed around;
Welcome rang like peals of thunder;
Welcome, rent the skies asunder;
Welcome, heaven and earth resound.
_Juno. _ Why stay we then on earth,
When mortals laugh and love?
'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astræa down,
The ruler of his birth,
And guardian of his crown.
'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astræa down.
_Mer. Jun. Ir. _ 'Tis time to mount above,
And send Astræa down. [MER. JU. _and_ IR. _ascend. _
_Aug. _ and _Tham. _ The royal squadron marches,
Erect triumphal arches,
For Albion and Albanius;
Rejoice at their returning,
The passages adorning:
The royal squadron marches,
Erect triumphal arches
For Albion and Albanius.
_Part of the Scene disappears, and the Four Triumphal arches,
erected on his Majesty's Coronation, are seen. _
ALBION _appears,_ ALBANIUS _by his Side, preceded by_ ARCHON,
_followed by a Train, &c. _
_Full Chorus. _ Hail, royal Albion, Hail!
_Aug. _ Hail, royal Albion, hail to thee,
Thy longing people's expectation!
_Tham. _ Sent from the gods to set us free
From bondage and from usurpation!
_Aug. _ To pardon and to pity me,
And to forgive a guilty nation!
_Tham. _ Behold the differing Climes agree,
Rejoicing in thy restoration.
Entry. _Representing the Four Parts of the World, rejoicing at the
Restoration of_ ALBION.
ACT II.
_The Scene is a Poetical Hell. The Change is total; The Upper Part
of the House, as well as the Side-Scenes. There is the Figure of_
PROMETHEUS _chained to a Rock, the Vulture gnawing his Liver;_
SISYPHUS _rolling the Stone; the_ BELIDES, _&c. Beyond, Abundance of
Figures in various Torments. Then a great Arch of Fire. Behind this,
three Pyramids of Flames in perpetual Agitation. Beyond this,
glowing Fire, which terminates the Prospect. _
PLUTO, _and the_ FURIES; _with_ ALECTO, DEMOCRACY, _and_ ZELOTA.
_Plu. _ Infernal offspring of the night,
Debarred of heaven your native right,
And from the glorious fields of light,
Condemned in shades to drag the chain,
And fill with groans the gloomy plain;
Since, pleasures here are none below,
Be ill our good, our joy be woe;
Our work to embroil the worlds above,
Disturb their union, disunite their love,
And blast the beauteous frame of our victorious foe.
_Dem. _ and _Zel. _ O thou, for whom those worlds are made,
Thou sire of all things, and their end,
From hence they spring, and when they fade,
In shuffled heaps they hither tend;
Here human souls receive their breath,
And wait for bodies after death.
_Dem. _ Hear our complaint, and grant our prayer.
_Plu. _ Speak what you are,
And whence you fell?
_Dem. _ I am thy first-begotten care,
Conceived in heaven, but born in hell.
When thou didst bravely undertake in fight
Yon arbitrary power,
That rules by sovereign might,
To set thy heaven-born fellows free,
And leave no difference in degree,
In that auspicious hour
Was I begot by thee.
_Zel.
