He had only three sons, and all
provided
for like gentlemen.
Dryden - Complete
[189] And there are really two factions of ladyes,
for the two playhouses. If you do not understand the names of some
persons mention’d, I can help you to the knowledge of them. You know
Sir Tho: Skipwith is master of the playhouse in Drury-Lane; and my
Lord Scarsdale is the patron of Betterton’s house, being in love with
somebody there. The Lord Scott is second sonn to the Duchess of
Monmouth. I need not tell you who my Lady Darentwater is; but it may
be you know not her Lord is a poet,and none of the best. Forgive this
hasty billet from
Your most obliged servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
_For Mrs Stewart_,
_Att Cotterstock, near Oundle_,
_in Northamptonshyre, These. _
_To be left with the Postmaster of Oundle_.
LETTER XLVII.
TO MRS STEWARD.
MADAM, Tuesday, March 12th, 1699 [-1700. ]
’Tis a week since I received the favour of a letter, which I have not
yet, acknowledg’d to you. About that time my new poems were publish’d,
which are not come till this day into my hands. They are a debt to
you, I must confess; and I am glad, because they are so unworthy to
be made a present. Your sisters, I hope, will be so kind to have them
convey’d to you; that my writeings may have the honour of waiting on
you, which is deny’d to me. The town encourages them with more applause
than any thing of mine deserves; and particularly, my cousin Driden
accepted one from me so very indulgently, that it makes me more and
more in love with him. But all our hopes of the House of Commons are
wholly dash’d. Our proprieties are destroy’d; and rather than we shou’d
not perish, they have made a breach in the Magna Charta;[203] for which
God forgive them! Congreve’s new play has had but moderate success,
though it deserves much better. [204] I am neither in health, nor do I
want afflictions of any kind; but am, in all conditions,
Madam,
Your most oblig’d obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
_For Mrs Stuart, att Cotterstock,_
_near Oundle, These. _
_By the Oundle Carrier, with_
_a book directed to her, These. _
_Northamptonshyre. _
LETTER XLVIII.
TO MRS STEWARD.
MADAM, Thursday, April the 11th, 1700.
The ladies of the town have infected you at a distance; they are all
of your opinion, and, like my last book of Poems,[205] better than any
thing they have formerly seen of mine. I always thought my verses to my
cousin Driden were the best of the whole; and to my comfort, the town
thinks them so; and he, which pleases me most, is of the same judgment,
as appears by a noble present he has sent me, which surprised me,
because I did not in the least expect it. I doubt not, but he receiv’d
what you were pleas’d to send him; because he sent me the letter, which
you did me the favour to write me. At this very instant, I heare the
guns, which, going off, give me to understand, that the King is goeing
to the Parliament to pass acts, and consequently to prorogue them; for
yesterday I heard, that both he and the Lords have given up the cause,
and the House of Commons have gained an entire victory. [206] Though
under the rose, I am of opinion, that much of the confidence is abated
on either side, and that whensoever they meet next, it will give that
House a farther occasion of encroaching on the prerogative and the
Lords; for they, who beare the purse, will rule. The Parliament being
risen, my cousin Driden will immediately be with you, and, I believe,
return his thanks in person. All this while I am lame at home, and have
not stirr’d abroad this moneth at least. Neither my wife nor Charles
are well, but have intrusted their service in my hand. I humbly add my
own to the unwilling High Sheriff,[207] and wish him fairly at an end
of his trouble.
The latter end of last week, I had the honour of a visite from my
cousine, your mother, and my cousine Dorothy, with which I was much
comforted. Within this moneth there will be play’d, for my profit, an
old play of Fletcher’s, call’d the “Pilgrim,” corrected by my good
friend Mr Vanbrook;[208] to which I have added a new masque; and am
to write a new prologue and epilogue. Southern’s tragedy, call’d the
“Revolt of Capua,” will be play’d at Betterton’s house within this
fortnight. I am out with that Company, and therefore, if I can help it,
will not read it before ’tis acted, though the authour much desires I
shou’d. Do not think I will refuse a present from fair hands; for I am
resolv’d to save my bacon. I beg your pardon for this slovenly letter;
but I have not health to transcribe it. [209] My service to my cousin,
your brother, who, I heare, is happy in your company, which he is not
who most desires it, and who is, Madam,
Your most obliged obedient
Servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
_For Mrs Stuart,_
_Att Cotterstock, near Oundle,_
_in Northamptonshyre, These. _
_To be left with the_
_Postmaster of Oundle. _
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
No. I.
DRYDEN’S _Degree as Master of Arts, granted by the Archbishop
of Canterbury, preserved in the Faculty Book_, (Book 6. p. 236.
b. )
“Dispensatio JOANNI DRYDEN, pro gradu Artium Magistri.
“GILBERTUS providentiâ divinâ Cantuariensis Archiepiscopus, &c. dilecto
nobis in Christo JOANNI DRYDEN, in Artibus Baccalaureo, perantiquâ
Dreydenorum familiâ in agro Northamptoniensi oriundo, salutem et
gratiam. QUUM in scholis rite constitutis mos laudabilis et consuetudo
invaluerit, approbatione tam ecclesiarum bene reformatarum, quam
hominum doctissimorum, à multis retrò annis, ut quicunque in aliqua
artium liberalium scientia cum laude desudaverint, insigni aliquo
dignitatis gradu decorarentur. Quum etiam, publicâ legum auctoritate
muniti, Cantuarienses Archiepiscopi gradus prædictos et honoris titulos
in homines bene merentes conferendi potestate gaudeant et jamdudum
gavisi sint, prout ex libro authentico de Facultatibus taxandis
Parlamenti auctoritate confirmato pleniùs apparet; Nos igitur prædictà
auctoritate freti, et antecessorum nostrorum exemplum imitati, te
Joannem prædictum, cujus vitæ probitas, bonarum literarum scientiá,
morumque integritas, vel ipsius domini Regis testimonio, perspectæ
sunt, MAGISTRI IN ARTIBUS titulo et gradu insigniri decrevimus, et
tenore presentium in Artibus Magistrum actualem creamus, pariterque
in numerum Magistrorum in Artibus hujusce regni aggregamus; juramento
infra scripto priùs per nos de te exacto, et a te jurato:--_Ego
Joannes Dryden, ad gradum et titulum Magistri in Artibus, per
Reverendissimum in Christo patron ac dominum, Gilbertum divinâ
providentiâ Cantuariensem Archiepiscopum, totius Angliæ Primatem
et Metropolitanum, admittendus, teste mihi conscientiâ testificor
serenissimum nostrum regem Carolum Secundum esse unicum et supremum
gubernatorem hujusce regni Angliæ, &c. sicut me Deus adjuvet, per sacra
Dei evangelia. _--Proviso semper quod hæ literæ tibi non proficiant,
nisi registrentur et subscribantur per Clericum Regiæ Majestatis ad
Facultates in Cancellaria.
“Dat. sub sigillo de Facultatibus, decimo septimo die mensis Junii,
Anno Domini 1668, et nostræ translationis anno quinto. ”
No. II.
DRYDEN’S PATENT.
_Pat. 22. Car. II. p. 6. n. 6. _
CHARLES THE SECOND, by the grace of God, of England, Scotland,
France, and Ireland, king, defender of the faith, &c. to the lords
commissioners of our treasury, treasurer, chancellor, under-treasurer,
chamberlaines, and barons of the exchequer, of us, our heires and
successors, now being, and that hereafter shall bee, and to all other
the officers and ministers of our said court and of the receipt there,
now being and that hereafter shall bee; and to all others to whom these
presents shall come, greeting.
Know yee, that wee, for and in consideration of the many good and
acceptable services by John Dryden, Master of Arts, and eldest sonne of
Erasmus Dryden, of Tichmarsh, in the county of Northampton, esquire,
to us heretofore done and performed, and taking notice of the learning
and eminent abilities of him the said John Dryden, and of his great
skill and elegant style both in verse and prose, and for diverse
other good causes and considerations us thereunto especially moving,
have nominated, constituted, declared, and appointed, and by these
presents do nominate, constitute, declare, and appoint him, the said
John Dryden, our POET LAUREAT and HISTORIOGRAPHER ROYAL; giving and
granting unto him, the said John Dryden, all and singular the rights,
privileges, benefits, and advantages thereunto belonging, as fully and
amply as Sir Geoffery Chaucer, knight, Sir John Gower, knight, John
Leland, esquire, William Camden, esquire, Benjamin Johnson, esquire,
James Howell, esquire, Sir William D’Avenant, knight, or any other
person or persons having or exercising the place or employment of Poet
Laureat or Historiographer, or either of them, in the time of any of
our royal progenitors, had or received, or might lawfully claim or
demand, as incident or belonging unto the said places or employments,
or either of them. And for the further and better encouragement of
him, the said John Dryden, diligently to attend the said employment,
we are graciously pleased to give and grant, and by these presents,
for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant, unto the said
John Dryden, one annuity or yearly pension of two hundred pounds of
lawful money of England, during our pleasure, to have and to hold, and
yearly to receive the said annuity or pension of two hundred pounds
of lawful money of England by the yeare, unto the said John Dryden
and his assigns, from the death of the said Sir William D’Avenant
lately deceased, for and during our pleasure, at the receipt of the
exchequer, of us, our heirs and successors, out of the treasure of
us, our heirs and successors, from time to time there remaining, by
the hands of the treasurer or treasurers and chamberlains of us, our
heirs and successors, there for the time being, at the four usual
terms of the year, that is to say, at the feast of the nativity of
St John the Baptist, St Michael the Archangel, the birth of our Lord
God, and the annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, by even and
equal portions to be paid, the first payment thereof to begin at the
feast of the nativity of St John the Baptist next and immediately
after the death of the said Sir William D’Avenant, deceased. Wherefore
our will and pleasure is, and we do by these presents, for us, our
heirs and successors, require, command, and authorize the said lords
commissioners of our treasury, treasurer, chancellor, under-treasurer,
chamberlains, and barons, and other officers and ministers of the said
exchequer now and for the time being, not only to pay, or cause to
be paid, unto the said John Dryden and his assigns, the said annuity
or yearly pension of two hundred pounds of lawful money of England,
according to our will and pleasure herein before expressed, but also
from time to time to give full allowance of the same, according
to the true meaning of these presents. And these presents, or the
inrolment thereof, shall be unto all men whom it shall concern a
sufficient warrant and discharge for the paying and allowing of the
same accordingly, without any further or other warrant procured or
obtained. And further, know ye, that we, of our especial grace,
certain knowledge, and mere motion, have given and granted, and by
these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant,
unto the said John Dryden and his assigns, one butt or pipe of the
best canary wine, to have, hold, receive, perceive, and take the said
butt or pipe of canary wine unto the said John Dryden and his assigns,
during our pleasure, out of our store of wines yearly and from time to
time remaining at or in our cellars within or belonging to our palace
of Whitehall. And for the better effecting of our will and pleasure
herein, we do hereby require and command all and singular our officers,
and ministers whom it shall or may concern, or who shall have the care
or charge of our said wines, that they, or some of them, do deliver, or
cause to be delivered, the said butt or pipe of wine yearly, and once
in every year, unto the said John Dryden or his assigns, during our
pleasure, at such time and times as he or they shall demand or desire
the same. And these presents, or the inrolment thereof, shall be unto
all men whom it shall concern, a sufficient warrant and discharge in
that behalf, although express mention, &c. In witness, &c.
Witness the King at Westminster, the eighteenth day of August. [1670. ]
_Per breve de privato sigillo. _
No. III.
THE AGREEMENT CONCERNING THE FABLES
I doe hereby promise to pay John Dryden, Esquire, or order, on the
25th of March, 1699, the sume of two hundred and fifty guineas, in
consideration of ten thousand verses, which the said John Dryden,
Esquire, is to deliver to me Jacob Tonson, when finished, whereof
seaven thousand five hundred verses, more or lesse, are already in
the said Jacob Tonson’s possession. And I do hereby further promise
and engage my selfe to make up the said sume of two hundred and fifty
guineas, three hundred pounds sterling, to the said John Dryden,
Esquire, his executors, administrators, or assigns, att the beginning
of the second impression of the said ten thousand verses. In witnesse
whereof, I have hereunto sett my hand and seal this twentieth day of
March, 1698-9.
JACOB TONSON.
Sealed and delivered, being first
stampt pursuant to the acts of
Parliament for that purpose,
in the presence of
Benj. Portlock,
Will Congreve.
March the twenty-fourth, 1698.
Received then of Mr Jacob Tonson the sum of two hundred sixty-eight
pounds fifteen shillings, in pursuance of an agreement for ten thousand
verses to be delivered by me to the said Jacob Tonson, whereof I have
already delivered to him about seven thousand five hundred, more or
less: he the sayd Jacob Tonson being obliged to make up the foresayd
sum of two hundred sixty-eight pounds fifteen shillings, three hundred
pounds, at the beginning of the second impression or the foresayd ten
thousand verses.
I say, received by me,
JOHN DRYDEN.
Witness, Charles Dryden.
_The following receipt is written on the back of_ JACOB TONSON’S
_Agreement, dated March_ 20, 1698-9.
June 11, 1713. Received of the within-named Jacob Tonson, thirty-one
pounds five shillings, which, with two hundred sixty-eight pounds
fifteen shillings paid Mr John Dryden the 24th of March 1698, is in
full for the copy of a book intituled “Dryden’s FABLES,” consisting of
ten thousand verses, more or lesse: I say received as administratrix to
the said John Dryden, of such effects as were not administered to by
Charles Dryden.
ANN SYLVIUS.
Witnesses, Eliz. Jones.
Jacob Tonson, Jun^r.
Paid Mr Dryden, March the 23d, 1698.
L. s. d.
In a bag in silver 100 0 0
In silver besides 21 15 6
66 Lewis d’ores at 17s. 6d. 57 15 0
83 Guyneas at [1] 1 6 89 4 6
-------------
268 15 0
=============
250 Guyneas at L. 1 1s. 6d. are 268 15 0
L. s. d.
268 15 0
31 5 0
===========
300 0 0
No. IV.
MR RUSSEL’s BILL FOR MR DRYDEN’S FUNERALLS.
For the funerall of Esq^{re} Dryden.
L. s. d.
A double coffin covered with cloath, and
sett of [off] with work gilt with gold 5 0 0
A herse with six white Flanders horses 1 10 0
Covering the herse with velvet, and
velvet housings for the horses 1 0 0
17 plumes of feathers for herse and horses 3 0 0
Hanging the Hall[210] with a border of bays 5 0 0
6 dozen of paper escucheons for the Hall 3 12 0
A large pall of velvet 0 10 0
10 silk escucheons for the pall 2 10 0
24 buck: escucheons for herse and horses 2 8 0
12 shields and six shaffroones for ditto 2 8 0
3 mourning coaches with six horses 2 5 0
Silver dish and rosemary 0 5 0
8 scarves for musicioners 2 0 0
8 hatbands for ditto 1 0 0
17 yds of crape to cover their instruments 1 14 0
4 mourning cloakes 0 10 0
Pd 6 men moveing the corps to the Hall 0 6 0
8 horsemen in long cloakes to ride before
the herse 4 0 0
-----------
Carried over 38 18 0
L. S. d.
Brought over 38 18 0
13 footmen in velvet capps, to walk on
each side the herse 1 19 0
6 porters that attended at the doores, and
walked before the herse to the Abby,
in mourning gowns and staves 1 10 0
An atchievement for the house 3 10 0
-----------
45 17 0
-----------
We may add to these accounts the Description of the Funeral
itself, extracted from the London Spy of WARD, who was
doubtless a spectator.
“A deeper concern hath scarce been known to affect in general the
minds of grateful and ingenious men, than the melancholy surprise
of the worthy Mr Dryden’s death hath occasioned through the whole
town, as well as in all other parts of the kingdom, where any persons
either of wit or learning have taken up their residence. Wheresoever
his incomparable writings have been scattered by the hands of the
travellers into foreign nations, the loss of so great a man must needs
be lamented amongst their bards and rabbies; and ’tis reasonable
to believe the commendable industry of translations has been such,
to render several of his most accurate performances into their own
language, that their native country might receive the benefit, and
themselves the reputation of so laudable an undertaking: and how far
the wings of merit have conveyed the pleasing fruits of his exuberant
fancy, is a difficult conjecture, considering what a continual
correspondence our nation has with most parts of the universe. For
it is reasonable to believe all Christian kingdoms and colonies at
least, have been as much the better for his labours, as the world is
the worse for the loss of him. Those who were his enemies while he
was living, (for no man lives without,) his death has now made such
friends to his memory, that they acknowledge they cannot but in justice
give him this character, that he was one of the greatest scholars, the
most correct dramatic poet, and the best writer of heroic verse, that
any age has produced in England. And yet, to verify the old proverb,
that poets, like prophets, have little honour in their own countries,
notwithstanding his merits had justly entitled his corpse to the most
magnificent and solemn interment the beneficence of the greatest
spirits could have bestowed on him; yet, ’tis credibly reported, the
ingratitude of the age is such, that they had like to have let him
pass in private to his grave, without those funeral obsequies suitable
to his greatness, had it not been for that true British worthy, who,
meeting with the venerable remains of the neglected bard passing
silently in a coach, unregarded to his last home, ordered the corpse,
by the consent of his few friends that attended him, to be respited
from so obscure an interment, and most generously undertook, at his
own expence, to revive his worth in the minds of a forgetful people,
by bestowing on his peaceful dust a solemn funeral answerable to his
merit; which memorable action alone will eternalize his fame with the
greatest heroes, and add that lustre to his nobility, which time can
never tarnish, but will shine with equal glory in all ages, and in
the very teeth of envy bid defiance to oblivion. The management of
the funeral was left to Mr Russel, pursuant to the directions of that
honourable great man the lord Jefferies, concerned chiefly in the pious
undertaking.
“The first honour done to his deserving relics, was lodging them in
Physicians College, from whence they were appointed to take their
last remove. The constituted day for the celebration of that office,
which living heroes perform in respect to a dead worthy, was Monday
the 13th of May, in the afternoon; at which time, according to the
notice given, most of the nobility and gentry now in town assembled
themselves together at the noble edifice aforesaid, in order to honour
the corpse with their personal attendance. When the company were met,
a performance of grave music, adapted to the solemn occasion, was
communicated to the ears of the company, by the hands of the best
masters in England, whose artful touches on their soft instruments
diffused such harmonious influence amongst the attentive auditory, that
the most heroic spirits in the whole assembly were unable to resist
the passionate force of each dissolving strain, but melted into tears
for the loss of so elegant and sweet a ravisher of human minds; and,
notwithstanding their undaunted bravery, which had oft scorned death
in the field, yet now, by music’s enchantment at the funeral of so
great a poet, were softened beneath their own natures, into a serious
reflection on mortality.
“When this part of the solemnity was ended, the famous Doctor G----th
ascended the pulpit where the physicians make their lectures, and
delivered, according to the Roman custom, a funeral oration in Latin
on his deceased friend, which he performed with great approbation and
applause of all such gentlemen that heard him, and were true judges of
the matter; most rhetorically setting forth those elegies and encomiums
which no poet hitherto, but the great Dryden, could ever truly deserve.
When these rites were over in the College, the corpse, by bearers for
that purpose, was handed into the hearse, being adorned with plumes
of black feathers, and the sides hung round with the escutcheons of
his ancestors, mixed with that of his lady’s; the hearse drawn by six
stately Flanders horses; every thing being set off with the most useful
ornaments to move regard, and affect the memories of the numberless
spectators, as a means to encourage every sprightly genius to attempt
something in their lives that may once render their dust worthy of
so public a veneration. All things being put in due order for their
movement, they began their solemn procession towards Westminster Abbey,
after the following manner:
“The two beadles of the College marched first, in mourning cloaks and
hat-bands, with the heads of their staffs wrapt in black crape scarfs,
being followed by several other servile mourners, whose business
was to prepare the way, that the hearse might pass less liable to
interruption; next to these moved a concert of hautboys and trumpets,
playing and sounding together a melancholy funeral-march, undoubtedly
composed upon that particular occasion; (after these, the undertaker
with his hat off, dancing through the dirt like a bear after a bagpipe.
I beg the reader’s pardon for foisting in a jest in so improper a
place, but as he walked by himself within a parenthesis, so I have here
placed him, and hope none will be offended;) then came the hearse, as
before described, most honourably attended with abundance of quality
in their coaches and six horses; that it may be justly reported to
posterity, no ambassador from the greatest emperor in all the universe,
sent over with the welcome embassy to the throne of England, ever made
his public entry to the court with half that honour as the corpse of
the great Dryden did its last exit to the grave. In this order the
nobility and gentry attended the hearse to Westminster Abbey, where the
quire, assisted with the best masters in England, sung an Epicedium;
and the last funeral rites being performed by one of the prebends, he
was honourably interred between Chaucer and Cowley; where, according to
report, will be erected a very stately monument, at the expence of some
of the nobility, in order to recommend his worth, and to preserve his
memory to all succeeding ages. ”
No. V.
MRS THOMAS’S LETTERS CONCERNING DRYDEN’S DEATH AND FUNERAL;
_Extracted from Wilson’s Life of Congreve, 1730. _
[As tales of wonder are generally acceptable to the public, I
insert these memorable Epistles, with the necessary caveat,
that they are full of every kind of blunder and inconsistency. ]
“These Memoirs were communicated to me by a lady, now living, with whom
Mr Dryden corresponded under the name of Corinna, and which name he
himself gave her.
’SIR,
’Mr Dryden was son of -------- Dryden, of an ancient and good family
in Northamptonshire, by a sister of Sir Gilbert Pickering, Bart. of
the same county; who has a handsome monument at Tichmarsh, erected
in 1721, by the late widow Creed of Oundle, the daughter of another
sister of Sir Gilbert’s, and niece to the famous Earl of Sandwich,
who was killed in the Dutch war, 1667, being then admiral. He married
Lady Elizabeth Howard, (a celebrated beauty) daughter to the old Earl
of Berkshire, sister to Sir Robert Howard, Colonel Philip Howard, and
Mr Edward Howard: (who wrote “The British Prince,” &c. ;) she bore him
three sons, Charles, John, and Harry. He lived many years in a very
good house in Gerrard street, the 5th or 6th door on the left-hand from
Newport-market. On the 19th of April, 1700, he said he had been very
bad with the gout, and an erysipelas in one leg; but he was then very
well, and designed to go soon abroad: but on the Friday following, he
had eat a partridge for his supper; and going to take a turn in the
little garden behind his house, was seized with a violent pain under
the ball of the great-toe of his right-foot, that, unable to stand,
he cried out for help, and was carried in by his servants; when, upon
sending for surgeons, they found a small black spot in the place
affected: He submitted to their present applications; and when gone,
called his son Charles to him, using these words, “I know,” says he,
“this black spot is a mortification; I know also, that it will seize
my head, and that they will cut off my leg: but I command you, my son,
by your filial duty, that you do not suffer me to be dismembered. ” As
he, too truly, foretold, the event proved; and his son was too dutiful
to disobey his father’s commands. On the Wednesday morning following,
being May-day, 1700, under the most excruciating dolours, he died.
Dr Sprat, then bishop of Rochester, sent, on the Thursday, to Lady
Elizabeth, that he would make a present of the ground, which was 40l.
with all the other abbey-fees, &c. to his deceased friend. Lord Halifax
sent also to my lady and Mr Charles, that if they would give him leave
to bury Mr Dryden, he would inter him with a gentleman’s private
funeral, and afterwards bestow 500l. on a monument in the Abbey;
which, as they had no reason to refuse, they accepted. On the Saturday
following the company came, the corpse was put into a velvet hearse,
and eighteen mourning coaches, filled with company, attending. When,
just before they began to move, Lord Jefferies, with some of his rakish
companions, coming by, in wine, asked, whose funeral? and being told,
“What! ” cries he, “shall Dryden, the greatest honour and ornament of
the nation, be buried after this private manner? No, gentlemen; let
all that loved Mr Dryden, and honour his memory, alight, and join
with me in gaining my lady’s consent, to let me have the honour of
his interment, which shall be after another manner than this, and I
will bestow 1000l. on a monument in the Abbey for him. ” The gentlemen
in the coaches not knowing of the bishop of Rochester’s favour, nor
of Lord Halifax’s generous design, (these two noble spirits having,
out of respect to the family, enjoined Lady Elizabeth and her son to
keep their favour concealed to the world, and let it pass for her own
expence, &c. ), readily came out of the coaches, and attended Lord
Jefferies up to the lady’s bed-side, who was then sick, He repeated the
purport of what he had before said; but she absolutely refusing, he
fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request was granted.
The rest of the company, by his desire, kneeled also; she being
naturally of a timorous disposition, and then under a sudden surprise,
fainted away. As soon as she recovered her speech, she cried, no, no.
Enough, gentlemen, replied he, (rising briskly,) my lady is very good;
she says, go, go. She repeated her former words with all her strength,
but, alas! in vain, her feeble voice was lost in their acclamations of
joy; and Lord Jefferies ordered the hearsemen to carry the corpse to
Russell’s, the undertaker, in Cheapside, and leave it there, till he
sent orders for the embalment, which, he added, should be after the
royal manner. His directions were obeyed, the company dispersed, and
Lady Elizabeth and Mr Charles remained inconsolable. Next morning Mr
Charles waited on Lord Halifax, &c. to excuse his mother and self, by
relating the real truth: but neither his lordship, nor the bishop,
would admit of any plea; especially the latter, who had the Abbey
lighted, the ground opened, the choir attending, an anthem ready set,
and himself waiting, for some hours, without any corpse to bury,
Russel, after three days expectance of orders for embalment, without
receiving any, waits on Lord Jefferies, who, pretending ignorance of
the matter, turned it off with an ill-natured jest, saying, “Those who
observed the orders of a drunken frolic, deserved no better; that he
remembered nothing at all of it, and he might do what he pleased with
the corpse. ” On this Mr Russell waits on Lady Elizabeth and Mr Dryden;
but, alas! it was not in their power to answer. The season was very
hot, the deceased had lived high and fast; and being corpulent, and
abounding with gross humours, grew very offensive. The undertaker, in
short, threatened to bring home the corpse, and set it before their
door. It cannot be easily imagined, what grief, shame, and confusion,
seized this unhappy family. They begged a day’s respite, which was
granted. Mr Charles wrote a very handsome letter to Lord Jefferies, who
returned it, with this cool answer, “He knew nothing of the matter,
and would be troubled no more about it. ” He then addressed the Lord
Halifax and bishop of Rochester, who were both too justly, though
unhappily, incensed, to do any thing in it. In this extreme distress,
Dr Garth, a man who entirely loved Mr Dryden, and was withal a man of
generosity and great humanity, sends for the corpse to the College of
Physicians in Warwicklane, and proposed a funeral by subscription,
to which himself set a most noble example; Mr Wycherley, and several
others, among whom must not be forgotten, Henry Cromwell, Esq. Captain
Gibbons, and Mr Christopher Metcalfe, Mr Dryden’s apothecary and
intimate friend, (since a collegiate physician,) who, with many others,
contributed most largely to the subscription; and at last a day, about
three weeks after his decease, was appointed for the interment at
the Abbey. Dr Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration over the corpse
at the College; but the audience being numerous, and the room large,
it was requisite the orator should be elevated, that he might be
heard; but, as it unluckily happened, there was nothing at hand but
an old beer-barrel, which the doctor, with much good-nature, mounted;
and, in the midst of his oration, beating time to the accent with
his foot, the head broke in, and his feet sunk to the bottom, which
occasioned the malicious report of his enemies, that he was turned a
tub-preacher: However, he finished the oration with a superior grace
and genius, to the loud acclamations of mirth, which inspired the
mixed or rather mob-auditors. The procession began to move, a numerous
train of coaches attended the hearse; but, good God! in what disorder,
can only be expressed by a sixpenny pamphlet, soon after published,
entitled, “Dryden’s Funeral. ” At last the corpse arrived at the Abbey,
which was all unlighted. No organ played, no anthem sung; only two of
the singing boys preceded the corpse, who sung an ode of Horace, with
each a small candle in their hand. The butchers and other mob broke
in like a deluge, so that only about eight or ten gentlemen could get
admission, and those forced to cut the way with their drawn swords.
The coffin, in this disorder, was let down into Chaucer’s grave, with
as much confusion, and as little ceremony, as was possible; every one
glad to save themselves from the gentlemen’s swords, or the clubs of
the mob. When the funeral was over, Mr Charles sent a challenge to Lord
Jefferies, who refusing to answer it, he sent several others, and went
often himself, but could neither get a letter delivered, nor admittance
to speak to him; which so justly incensed him, that he resolved, since
his lordship refused to answer him like a gentleman, he would watch an
opportunity to meet him, and fight off hand, though with all the rules
of honour; which his lordship hearing, left the town; and Mr Charles
could never have the satisfaction to meet him, though he sought it till
his death with the utmost application. This is the true state of the
case, and surely no reflection to the manes of this great man.
“Thus it is very plain, that his being buried by contribution, was
owing to a vile drunken frolic of the Lord Jefferies, as I have
related. Mr Dryden enjoyed himself in plenty, while he lived, and the
surplusage of his goods paid all his debts. After his decease, the
Lady Elizabeth, his widow, took a lesser house in Sherrard-street,
Golden-square, and had wherewithal to live frugally genteel, and keep
two servants, to the day of her death, by the means of a small part of
her fortune, which her relations had obliged Mr Dryden to secure to
her on marriage. This was 80l. per annum, and duly paid at 20l. per
quarter; so that, I can assure you, there was no want to her dying-day.
He had only three sons, and all provided for like gentlemen. Mr Charles
had served the Pontiff of Rome above nine years, in an honourable
and profitable post, as usher to the palace, out of which he had an
handsome stipend remitted by his brother John, whom, by the pope’s
favour, he left to officiate, while he came to visit his father, who
dying soon after his arrival, he returned no more to Italy, but was
unhappily drowned at Windsor in swimming cross the river. Mr John died
in his post at Rome, and Harry the youngest was a religious; he had
30l. a year allowed by his college in Flanders, besides a generous
salary from his near relation the too well-known Duchess of Norfolk,
to whom he was domestic chaplain. Behold the great wants of this
deplorable family!
I am, Sir,
Your’s, &c.
CORINNA.
_May_ 15, 1729.
P. S. ‘Mr Dryden was educated at Westminster school, under the great Dr
Bushby, being one of the king’s scholars upon the royal foundation. ’
* * * * *
’SIR,
’Upon recollection, I think it must have been that remarkably fine
gentleman, Pope Clement XI. , to whom Mr Charles Dryden was usher of the
palace. His brother John died of a fever at Rome, not many months after
his father, and was buried there; whether before the pope or after
I cannot say; but the difference was not much. Mr Charles, who was
drowned at Windsor, 1704, was doubtless buried there. Lady Elizabeth
lived about eight years after her spouse, and for five years of the
time, without any memory, which she lost by a fever in 1703; she was a
melancholy object, and was, by her son Harry, as I was told, carried
into the country, where she died. What country I never heard. I cannot
certainly say where Mr Harry died, or whether before his mother or
after.
’Mr Dryden never had any wife but Lady Elizabeth, whatever may have
been reported.
’As he was a man of a versatile genius, he took great delight in
judicial astrology; though only by himself. There were some incidents
which proved his great skill, that were related to Lady Chudleigh at
the Bath, and which she desired me to ask Lady Elizabeth about, as I
after did; which she not only confirmed, by telling me the exact matter
of fact, but added another, which had never been told to any; and which
I can solemnly aver was some years before it came to pass. I purposely
omitted these Narratives in the Memoirs of Mr Dryden, lest that this
over-witty age, which so much ridicules prescience, should think the
worse of all the rest; but, if you desire particulars, they shall be
freely at your service.
I am, Sir,
Your’s, &c.
CORINNA.
_16th June_, 1729.
* * * * *
_The Narratives referred to in the foregoing Letter, viz. _
’Notwithstanding Mr Dryden was a great master of that branch of
astronomy, called judicial astrology, there were very few, scarce any,
the most intimate of his friends, who knew of his amusements that way,
except his own family. In the year 1707, that deservedly celebrated
Lady Chudleigh being at the Bath, was told by the Lady Elizabeth of a
very surprising instance of this judgement on his eldest son Charles’s
horoscope. Lady Chudleigh, whose superior genius rendered her as
little credulous on the topic of prescience, as she was on that of
apparitions; yet withal was of so candid and curious a disposition,
that she neither credited an attested tale on the quality or character
of the relater, nor did she altogether despise it, though told by the
most ignorant: Her steady zeal for truth always led her to search
to the foundation, of it; and on that principle, at her return to
London, she spoke to a gentlewoman of her acquaintance, that was well
acquainted in Mr Dryden’s family, to ask his widow about it; which she
accordingly did. It is true, report has added many incidents to matter
of fact; but the real truth, taken from Lady Elizabeth’s own mouth, is
in these words:
‘When I was in labour of Charles, Mr Dryden being told it was decent
to withdraw, laid his watch on the table, begging one of the ladies,
then present, in a most solemn manner, to take an exact notice of the
very minute when the child was born: which she did, and acquainted
him therewith. This passed without any singular notice; many fathers
having had such a fancy, without any farther thought. But about a week
after, when I was pretty hearty, he comes into my room; ‘My dear,’
says he, ‘you little think what I have been doing this morning;’ “nor
ever shall,” said I, “unless you will be so good to inform me. ” ‘Why,
then,’ cried he, ‘I have been calculating this child’s nativity, and
in grief I speak it, he was born in an evil hour; Jupiter, Venus,
and the Sun, were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant
afflicted by a hateful square of Mars and Saturn. If he lives to arrive
at his eighth year, he will go near to die a violent death on his very
birth-day; but if he should escape, as I see but small hopes, he will,
in his twenty-third year, be under the very same evil direction: and
if he should, which seems almost impossible, escape that also, the
thirty-third or thirty-fourth year is, I fear’----I interrupted him
here, “O, Mr Dryden, what is this you tell me? my blood runs cold at
your fatal speech; recal it, I beseech you. Shall my little angel, my
Dryden boy, be doomed to so hard a fate? Poor innocent, what hast thou
done? No: I will fold thee in my arms, and if thou must fall, we will
both perish together. ” A flood of tears put a stop to my speech; and
through Mr Dryden’s comfortable persuasions, and the distance of time,
I began to be a little appeased, but always kept the fatal period in
my mind. At last the summer arrived, August was the inauspicious month
in which my dear son was to enter on his eighth year. The court being
in progress, and Mr Dryden at leisure, he was invited to my brother
Berkshire’s to keep the long vacation with him at Charleton in Wilts;
I was also invited to my uncle Mordaunt’s, to pass the remainder of
the summer at his country-seat. All this was well enough; but when we
came to dividing the children, I would have had him took John, and let
me have the care of Charles; because, as I told him, a man might be
engaged in company, but a woman could have no pretence for not guarding
of the evil hour. Poor Mr Dryden was in this too absolute, and I as
positive. In fine, we parted in anger; and, as a husband always will
be master, he took Charles, and I was forced to be content with my son
John. But when the fatal day approached, such anguish of heart seized
me, as none but a fond mother can form any idea of. I watched the post;
that failed: I wrote and wrote, but no answer. Oh, my friend! judge
what I endured, terrified with dreams, tormented by my apprehensions. I
abandoned myself to despair, and remained inconsolable.
’The anxiety of my spirits occasioned such an effervescence of my
blood, as threw me into so violent a fever, that my life was despaired
of, when a letter came from my spouse, reproving my womanish credulity,
and assured me all was well, and the child in perfect health; on
which I mended daily, and recovered my wonted state of ease, till
about six weeks after the fatal day, I received an _eclaircissement_
from Mr Dryden, with a full account of the whole truth, which belike
he feared to acquaint me with till the danger was over. It was this:
In the month of August, being Charles’s anniversary, it happened, that
Lord Berkshire had made a general hunting-match, to which were invited
all the adjacent gentlemen; Mr Dryden being at his house, and his
brother-in-law, could not be dispensed with from appearing.
’I have told you, that Mr Dryden, either through fear of being
thought superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study,
was extremely cautious in letting any one know that he was a dabbler
in astrology, therefore could not excuse his absence from the sport;
but he took care to set the boy a double exercise in the Latin tongue,
(which he taught his children himself,) with a strict charge not to
stir out of the room till his return, well knowing the task he had
set him would take up longer time. Poor Charles was all obedience,
and sat close to his duty, when, as ill fate ordained, the stag made
towards the house. The noise of the dogs, horns, &c. alarmed the family
to partake of the sport; and one of the servants coming down stairs,
the door being open, saw the child hard at his exercise without being
moved. ‘Master,’ cried the fellow, ‘why do you sit there? come down,
come down, and see the sport. ’ ‘No,’ replied Charles, ’my papa has
forbid me, and I dare not. ’ ‘Pish! ’ quoth the clown, ‘vather shall
never know it;’ so takes the child by the hand, and leads him away;
when, just as they came to the gate, the stag, being at bay with the
dogs, cut a bold stroke, and leaped over the court-wall, which was
very low and very old, and the dogs following, threw down at once a
part of the wall ten yards in length, under which my dear child lay
buried. He was as soon as possible dug out; but, alas, how mangled! his
poor little head being crushed to a perfect mash. In this miserable
condition he continued above six weeks, without the least hope of life.
Through the Divine Providence he recovered, and in process of time,
having a most advantageous invitation to Rome, from my uncle, Cardinal
Howard, we sent over our two sons Charles and John; (having, through
the grace of God, been ourselves admitted into the true Catholic
faith;) they were received suitable to the grandeur and generosity of
his eminence, and Charles immediately planted in a post of honour,
as gentleman-usher to his Holiness, in which he continued about nine
years. But what occasions me to mention this, is an allusion to my
dear Mr Dryden’s too fatal prediction. In his twenty-third year,
being in perfect health, he had attended some ladies of the palace,
his Holiness’s nieces, as it was his place, on a party of pleasure.
His brother John and he lodged together, at the top of an old round
tower belonging to the Vatican, (with a well staircase, much like the
Monument,) when he knew his brother Charles was returned, went up,
thinking to find him there, and to go to bed. But, alas! no brother
was there: on which he made a strict enquiry at all the places he used
to frequent, but no news, more than that he was seen by the centinel
to go up the staircase. On which he got an order for the door of
the foundation of the tower to be opened, where they found my poor
unfortunate son Charles mashed to a mummy, and weltering in his own
blood. How this happened, he gave no farther account, when he could
speak, than, that the heat of the day had been most excessive, and
as he came to the top of the tower, he found himself seized with a
megrim, or swimming in his head, and leaning against the iron rails, it
is to be supposed, tipped over, five stories deep. Under this grievous
mischance, his Holiness (God bless him! ) omitted nothing that might
conduce to his recovery; but as he lay many months without hopes of
life, so when he did recover his health, it was always very imperfect,
and he continues still to be of a hectic disposition.
’You see here (continued Lady Elizabeth) the too true fulfilling of two
of my dear husband’s fatal predictions. But, alas! my friend, there is
a third to come, which is, that in his thirty-third or thirty-fourth
year, he or I shall die a violent death; but he could not say which
would go first. I heartily pray it may be myself: But as I have ten
thousand fears, the daily challenges Charles sends to Lord Jefferies,
on his ungenerous treatment of my dear Mr Dryden’s corpse; and as
he has some value for you, I beg, my dearest friend, that you would
dissuade him as much as you can from taking that sort of justice on
Lord Jefferies, lest it should fulfil his dear father’s prediction. ’
* * * * *
“Thus far Lady Elizabeth’s own words.
“This, if required, I can solemnly attest was long before Mr Charles
died; to the best of my remembrance it was in 1701 or 1702, I will
not be positive which. But in 1703, Lady Elizabeth was seized with a
nervous fever, which deprived her of her memory and understanding,
(which surely may be termed a moral death,) though she lived some
years after. But Mr Charles, in August 1704, was unhappily drowned at
Windsor, as before recited. He had, with another gentleman, swam twice
over the Thames; but venturing a third time, it was supposed he was
taken with the cramp, because he called out for help, though too late.
I am, Sir, &c.
CORINNA. ”
_June_ 18, 1729.
_Mr_ CHARLES DRYDEN’S _Letter to_ CORINNA.
’_Madam_,
’Notwithstanding I have been seized with a fever ever since I saw you
last, I have this afternoon endeavoured to do myself the honour of
obeying my Lady Chudleigh’s commands. My fever is still increasing, and
I beg you to peruse the following verses, according to your own sense
and discretion, which far surpasses mine in all respects. In a small
time of intermission from my illness, I write these following:
MADAM,
How happy is our British isle, to bear
Such crops of wit and beauty to the fair?
A female muse each vying age has blest,
And the last Phoenix still excels the rest:
But you such solid learning add to rhymes,
Your sense looks fatal to succeeding times;
Which, raised to such a pitch, o’erflows like Nile,
And with an after-dearth must seize our isle.
Alone of all your sex, without the rules
Of formal pedants, or the noisy schools,
(What nature has bestowed will art supply? )
Have traced the various tracts of dark philosophy.
What happy days had wise Aurelius seen,
If, for Faustina, you his wife had been!
No jarring nonsense had his soul oppressed,
For he with all he wished for had been blessed.
’Be pleased to tell me what you find amiss, or correct it yourself, and
excuse this trouble from
Your most humble and most obedient servant,
CHAR. DRYDEN. ’
_Easter-Eve. _
“I have searched all our ecclesiastical offices for the will of Mr
Dryden, but I find he did not make any; administration was granted to
his son Charles (his wife, the Lady Elizabeth Howard, being a lunatic
for some time before her death) in June 1700. ”
No. VI.
MONUMENT IN THE CHURCH AT TICHMARSH.
“In the middle of the north wall of the chapel within the parish church
of Tichmarsh, in Northamptonshire, is a wooden monument, having the
bust of a person at top, wreathed, crowned with laurel. Underneath, THE
POET; and below, this inscription:
“Here lie the honoured remains
of Erasmus Dryden, Esq. , and Mary Pickering
his wife.
He was the third son of Sir Erasmus Dryden, an
ancient Baronet, who lived with great honour in
this county, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
Mr Dryden was a very ingenious worthy gentleman,
and Justice of the Peace in this county.
He married Mrs Mary Pickering, daughter of the
reverend Doc^r Pickering,[211] of Aldwinckle, and
grand-daughter to Sir Gilbert Pickering:
Of her it may truly be said,
She was a crown to her husband:
Her whole conversation was as becometh
the Gospel of Christ.
They had 14 children; the eldest of whom was
John Dryden, Esq. ,
the celebrated Poet and Laureat of his time.
His bright parts and learning are best seen in his
own excellent writings on various subjects.
We boast, that he was bred and had
his first learning here;
where he has often made us happie
by his kind visits and most delightful conversation.
He married the Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter to
Henry[212] Earl of Berkshire; by whom he had three
sons, Charles, John, and Erasmus-Henry;
and, after 70 odd years, when nature could be no
longer supported, he received the notice of
his approaching dissolution
with sweet submission and entire resignation
to the Divine will;
and he took so tender and obliging a farewell of
his friends, as none but he himself could have
expressed; of which sorrowful number
I was one.
His body was honourably interred in Westminster
Abby, among the greatest wits of divers ages.
His sons were all fine, ingenious, accomplished
gentlemen: they died in their youth, unmarried:
Sir Erasmus-Henry, the youngest, lived
till the ancient honour of the family
descended on him.
After his death, it came to his good uncle,
Sir Erasmus Dryden;
whose grandson is the present Sir John Dryden,
of Canons-Ashby, the ancient seat of the Family.
Sir Erasmus Dryden, the first named, married his
daughters into very honourable familyes; the
eldest to Sir John Philipps;[213] the second to
Sir John Hartop;[214] the youngest[215] was married
to Sir John Pickering, great grand-father to
the present Sir Gilbert Pickering, Bart. ;
and to the same persons I have the honour to be
a grand-daughter:
And it is with delight and humble thankfullness
that I reflect on the character of
my pious ancestors; and that I am
now, with my owne hand, paying my duty to
Sir Erasmus Dryden,
my great grand-father, and to
Erasmus Dryden, Esq. ,
my honoured uncle,[216] in the 80th year of my age.
ELIZA. CREED, 1722. ”
No. VII.
EXTRACT FROM AN EPISTOLARY POEM, TO JOHN DRYDEN, ESQ.
OCCASIONED BY THE MUCH-LAMENTED DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. JAMES EARL OF
ABINGDON;
BY WILLIAM PITTIS, LATE FELLOW OF NEW-COLLEGE, IN OXON.
_Quanto rectius hoc, quam tristi lœdere versu
Pantolabum scurram, Nomentanumq. Nepotem? _ HOR.
_----Cadet et Repheus justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teucris, et servantissimus æqui. _ ÆN. Lib. ii.
THE PREFACE.
_1699. 13. June. _
. . . And though I am not an author confirmed enough to carry my copies
about to gentlemen’s chambers, in order to pick up amendments and
corrections, as the practice is now of our most received writers; yet
I must, in justice to myself, and the gentleman who has favoured me
with its perusal, tell the world, it had been much worse had not Mr
Dryden acquainted me with its faults. Nothing indeed was so displeasing
to him, as what was pleasing to myself, viz. his own commendations:
and if it pleases the world, the reader has no one to thank but so
distinguishing a judgment who occasioned it.
I might here lay hold of the opportunity of returning the obliging
compliments he sent me by the person who brought the papers to him
before they were printed; but I may chance to call his judgement in
question by it, which I always accounted infallible, but in his kind
thoughts of me; and therefore refer the reader to the poem, in order to
see whether he’ll be so good natured as to join his opinion with the
compliment the gentleman aforesaid has honoured me with.
POEM.
But thou, great bard, whose hoary merits claim
The laureat’s place, without the laureat’s name;
Whose learned brows, encircled by the bays,
Bespeak their owner’s, and their giver’s praise;
Thou, Dryden, should’st our loss alone relate,
And heroes mourn, who heroes canst create.
Amidst thy verse the wife already shines,
And owes her virtues, what she owes thy lines.
Down from above the saint our sorrows views,
And feels a second heaven in thy muse;
Whose verse as lasting as her fame shall be,
While thou shall live by her, and she by thee.
Oh! let the same immortal numbers tell,
How just the husband lived, and how he fell;
What vows, when living, for his life were made;
What floods of tears at his decease were paid;
And since their deathless virtues were the same,
Equal in worth, alike should be their fame.
But thou, withdrawn from us, and public cares,
Flatter’st thy age, and feed’st thy growing years;
Supine, unmoved, regardless of our cries,
Thou mind’st not where thy noble patron lies:
Wrapt in death’s icy arms, within his urn,
Behold him sleeping, and, beholding, mourn:
Speechless that tongue for wholesome counsels famed,
And without sight those eyes for lust unblamed;
Bereaved of motion are those hands which gave
Alms to the needy, did the needy crave.
Ah! such a sight, and such a man divine,
Does only call for such a hand as thine!
Great is the task, and worthy is thy pen;
The best of bards should sing the best of men.
Awake, arise from thy lethargic state,
Mourn Britain’s loss, though Britain be ingrate;
Nor let the sacred Mantuan’s labours be
A _ne plus ultra_ to thy fame and thee.
Thy Abingdon, if once thy glorious theme,
Shall vie with his Marcellus for esteem;
Tears in his eyes, and sorrow in his heart,
Shall speak the reader’s grief, and writer’s art;
And, though this barren age does not produce
A great Augustus, to reward thy muse;
Though in this isle no good Octavia reigns,
And gives thee Virgil’s premium for his strains:
Yet, Dryden, for a while forsake thy ease,
And quit thy pleasures, that thou more may’st please.
Apollo calls, and every muse attends,
With every grace, who every beauty lends.
Sweet is thy voice, as was thy subject’s mind,
And, like his soul, thy numbers unconfined;
Thy language easy, and thy flowing song,
Soft as a vale, but like a mountain strong.
Such verse as thine, and such alone, should dare
To charge the muses with their present care.
Thine, and the cause of wit, with speed maintain,
Lest some rude hand the sacred work profane,
And the dull, mercenary, rhyming crew,
Rob the deceased and thee, of what’s your due.
Such fears as these, (if duty cannot move,
And make thy labours equal to thy love,)
Should hasten forth thy verse, and make it show
What thou, mankind, and every muse does owe.
As Abingdon’s high worth exalted shines,
And gives and takes a lustre from thy lines;
As Eleonora’s pious deeds revive
In him who shared her praises when alive:
So the stern Greek, whom nothing could persuade
To quit the rash engagements which he made,
With sullen looks, and helmet laid aside,
He soothed his anger, and indulged his pride;
Careless of fate, neglectful of the call
Of chiefs entreating, till Patroclus’ fall.
Roused by his death, his martial soul could bend,
And lose his whole resentments in his friend;
As to the dusky field he winged his course,
With eyes impatient, and redoubled force,
And weeped him dead, in thousands of the slain,
Whom living, Greece had beg’d his sword in vain.
O Dryden! quick the sacred pencil take,
And rise in virtue’s cause for virtue’s sake;
Of heaven’s the song, and heaven-born is thy muse,
Fitting to follow bliss, which mine will lose:
Bold are thy thoughts, and soaring is thy flight;
Thy fancy tempting, thy expressions bright;
Moving thy grief, and powerful is thy praise,
Or to command our tears, or joys to raise.
So shall his worth, from age to age conveyed,
Shew what the hero did, and poet paid;
And future times shall practice what they see
Performed so well by him, and praised by thee,
While I confess the weakness of my lays,
And give my wonder where thou giv’st thy praise:
As I from every muse but thine retire,
And him in thee, and thee in him, admire.
No. VIII.
EXTRACTS FROM POEMS ATTACKING DRYDEN, FOR HIS SILENCE UPON THE DEATH OF
QUEEN MARY.
The author of one of these Mourning Odes inscribes it to Dryden with
the following letter:
SIR,
Though I have little acquaintance with you, nor desire to have more, I
take upon me, with the assurance of a poet, to make this dedication to
you, which I hope you will the more easily excuse, since you have often
used the same freedom to others; and since I protest sincerely, that I
expect no money from you.
I could not forbear mentioning your admired Lewis, whom you compare to
Augustus, as justly as one may compare you to Virgil. Augustus (though
not the most exact pattern of a prince) yet, on some occasions, shewed
personal valour, and was not a league-breaker, a poisoner, a pirate:
Virgil was a good man and a clean poet; all his excellent writings may
be carried by a child in one hand more easily, than all your almonzors
can be by a porter upon both shoulders.
When I saw your prodigious epistle to the translation of Juvenal, I
feared you were wheeling to the government; I confess too, I long
expected something from you on the late sad occasion, that has employed
so many pens; but it is well that you have kept silence. I hope you
will always be on the other side; did even popery ever get any honour
by you? You may wonder that I subscribe not my name at length, but
I defer that to another time. I hear you are translating again; let
English Virgil be better than English Juvenal, or it is odds you will
hear of me more at large. In the mean time, hoping that you and your
covey will dislike what I _have written_, I remain, Sir, your very
humble servant,
A. B.
There is also an attack upon our author, as presiding in the Wits
Coffee-house, which gives us a curious view into the interior of that
celebrated place of rendezvous. It is entitled, “Urania’s Temple; or, a
Satire upon the Silent Poets,” and is as follows:--
URANIA’S TEMPLE; OR, A SATIRE UPON THE SILENT POETS.
_Carmina, nulla canam. _----VIRG.
_1694-5. 2. March. _
A house there stands where once a convent stood,
A nursery still to the old convent brood:
This ever hospitable roof of yore
The famous sign of the old Osiris bore,
A fair red Io, hieroglyphic-fair,
For all the suckling wits o’ the town milcht there.
This long old emblematic, that had past
Full many a bleak winter’s shaking blast,
At last with age fell down, some say, confusion,
Shamed and quite dasht at the new Revolution;
Dropt out of modesty, (as most suppose,)
Not daring face the new bright Royal Rose.
Here in supiner state, ’twixt reaking tiff,
And fumigating clouds of funk and whiff,
Snug in a nook, his dusky tripos, sits
A senior Delphic ’mongst the minor wits;
Feared like an Indian god, a god indeed
True Indian, smoked with his own native weed.
From this oped mouth, soft eloquence rich mint
Steals now and then a keen well-hammered hint,
Some sharp state raillery, or politic squint,
Hard midwived wit, births by slow labours stopt,
Sense not profusely shower’d, but only dropt.
Sometimes for oracles yet more profound,
A titillating sonnet’s handed round,
Some Abdication-Damon madrigal,
His own sour pen’s too overflowing gall.
I must confess in pure poetic rage,
Bowed down to the old Moloch of that age,
His strange bigotted muse our wonder saw,
Tuned to the late great court tarantula.
What though worn out in pleasures old and stale,
The reverend Outly sculkt within the pale;
It was enough, like the old Mahomet’s pigeon,
He lured to bread, and masked into religion.
Had that, now silent, muse been but so kind
As to this funeral-dirge her numbers joined,
On that great theme what wonders had he told!
For though the bard, the quill is not grown old,
Writes young Apollo still, with his whole rays
Encircled and enriched, though not his bays.
Thus when the wreath, so long, so justly due,
The great Mecænas from those brows withdrew,
With pain he saw such merit sunk so far,
Shamed that the dragon’s tail swept down the star.
Not that the conscience-shackle tied so hard,
But had he been the prophet, as the bard,
Prognostick’d the diminutive slender birth
His seven-hill’d mountain-labour has brought forth,
His foreseen precipice; that thought alone
Had stopt his fall, secured him all our own;
Free from his hypochondriac dreams he had slept,
And still his unsold Esau’s birthright kept.
’Tis thus we see him lost, thus mourn his fall;
That single teint alone has sullied all.
So have I in the Muses garden seen
The spreading rose, or blooming jessamine;
Once from whose bosom the whole Hybla train
The industrious treasurers of the rich plain,
Those winged foragers for their fragrant prey,
On loaded thighs bore thousand sweets away:
Now shaded by a sullen venomed guest
Cankered and sooted o’er to a spider’s nest.
His sweets thus soured, what melancholy change,
What an ill-natur’d lour, a face so strange!
His life one whole long scene of all unrest,
And airy hopes his thin cameleon-feast;
Pleased only with the pride of being preferred,
The echoed voice to his own listning herd,
A magisterial Belweather tape,
The lordly leader of his bleating troop.
These doctrines our young Sullenists preach round,
The texts which their poetic silence found.
But why the doctor of their chair, why thou,
Their great rabbinic voice, thus silent too?
for the two playhouses. If you do not understand the names of some
persons mention’d, I can help you to the knowledge of them. You know
Sir Tho: Skipwith is master of the playhouse in Drury-Lane; and my
Lord Scarsdale is the patron of Betterton’s house, being in love with
somebody there. The Lord Scott is second sonn to the Duchess of
Monmouth. I need not tell you who my Lady Darentwater is; but it may
be you know not her Lord is a poet,and none of the best. Forgive this
hasty billet from
Your most obliged servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
_For Mrs Stewart_,
_Att Cotterstock, near Oundle_,
_in Northamptonshyre, These. _
_To be left with the Postmaster of Oundle_.
LETTER XLVII.
TO MRS STEWARD.
MADAM, Tuesday, March 12th, 1699 [-1700. ]
’Tis a week since I received the favour of a letter, which I have not
yet, acknowledg’d to you. About that time my new poems were publish’d,
which are not come till this day into my hands. They are a debt to
you, I must confess; and I am glad, because they are so unworthy to
be made a present. Your sisters, I hope, will be so kind to have them
convey’d to you; that my writeings may have the honour of waiting on
you, which is deny’d to me. The town encourages them with more applause
than any thing of mine deserves; and particularly, my cousin Driden
accepted one from me so very indulgently, that it makes me more and
more in love with him. But all our hopes of the House of Commons are
wholly dash’d. Our proprieties are destroy’d; and rather than we shou’d
not perish, they have made a breach in the Magna Charta;[203] for which
God forgive them! Congreve’s new play has had but moderate success,
though it deserves much better. [204] I am neither in health, nor do I
want afflictions of any kind; but am, in all conditions,
Madam,
Your most oblig’d obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
_For Mrs Stuart, att Cotterstock,_
_near Oundle, These. _
_By the Oundle Carrier, with_
_a book directed to her, These. _
_Northamptonshyre. _
LETTER XLVIII.
TO MRS STEWARD.
MADAM, Thursday, April the 11th, 1700.
The ladies of the town have infected you at a distance; they are all
of your opinion, and, like my last book of Poems,[205] better than any
thing they have formerly seen of mine. I always thought my verses to my
cousin Driden were the best of the whole; and to my comfort, the town
thinks them so; and he, which pleases me most, is of the same judgment,
as appears by a noble present he has sent me, which surprised me,
because I did not in the least expect it. I doubt not, but he receiv’d
what you were pleas’d to send him; because he sent me the letter, which
you did me the favour to write me. At this very instant, I heare the
guns, which, going off, give me to understand, that the King is goeing
to the Parliament to pass acts, and consequently to prorogue them; for
yesterday I heard, that both he and the Lords have given up the cause,
and the House of Commons have gained an entire victory. [206] Though
under the rose, I am of opinion, that much of the confidence is abated
on either side, and that whensoever they meet next, it will give that
House a farther occasion of encroaching on the prerogative and the
Lords; for they, who beare the purse, will rule. The Parliament being
risen, my cousin Driden will immediately be with you, and, I believe,
return his thanks in person. All this while I am lame at home, and have
not stirr’d abroad this moneth at least. Neither my wife nor Charles
are well, but have intrusted their service in my hand. I humbly add my
own to the unwilling High Sheriff,[207] and wish him fairly at an end
of his trouble.
The latter end of last week, I had the honour of a visite from my
cousine, your mother, and my cousine Dorothy, with which I was much
comforted. Within this moneth there will be play’d, for my profit, an
old play of Fletcher’s, call’d the “Pilgrim,” corrected by my good
friend Mr Vanbrook;[208] to which I have added a new masque; and am
to write a new prologue and epilogue. Southern’s tragedy, call’d the
“Revolt of Capua,” will be play’d at Betterton’s house within this
fortnight. I am out with that Company, and therefore, if I can help it,
will not read it before ’tis acted, though the authour much desires I
shou’d. Do not think I will refuse a present from fair hands; for I am
resolv’d to save my bacon. I beg your pardon for this slovenly letter;
but I have not health to transcribe it. [209] My service to my cousin,
your brother, who, I heare, is happy in your company, which he is not
who most desires it, and who is, Madam,
Your most obliged obedient
Servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.
_For Mrs Stuart,_
_Att Cotterstock, near Oundle,_
_in Northamptonshyre, These. _
_To be left with the_
_Postmaster of Oundle. _
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
No. I.
DRYDEN’S _Degree as Master of Arts, granted by the Archbishop
of Canterbury, preserved in the Faculty Book_, (Book 6. p. 236.
b. )
“Dispensatio JOANNI DRYDEN, pro gradu Artium Magistri.
“GILBERTUS providentiâ divinâ Cantuariensis Archiepiscopus, &c. dilecto
nobis in Christo JOANNI DRYDEN, in Artibus Baccalaureo, perantiquâ
Dreydenorum familiâ in agro Northamptoniensi oriundo, salutem et
gratiam. QUUM in scholis rite constitutis mos laudabilis et consuetudo
invaluerit, approbatione tam ecclesiarum bene reformatarum, quam
hominum doctissimorum, à multis retrò annis, ut quicunque in aliqua
artium liberalium scientia cum laude desudaverint, insigni aliquo
dignitatis gradu decorarentur. Quum etiam, publicâ legum auctoritate
muniti, Cantuarienses Archiepiscopi gradus prædictos et honoris titulos
in homines bene merentes conferendi potestate gaudeant et jamdudum
gavisi sint, prout ex libro authentico de Facultatibus taxandis
Parlamenti auctoritate confirmato pleniùs apparet; Nos igitur prædictà
auctoritate freti, et antecessorum nostrorum exemplum imitati, te
Joannem prædictum, cujus vitæ probitas, bonarum literarum scientiá,
morumque integritas, vel ipsius domini Regis testimonio, perspectæ
sunt, MAGISTRI IN ARTIBUS titulo et gradu insigniri decrevimus, et
tenore presentium in Artibus Magistrum actualem creamus, pariterque
in numerum Magistrorum in Artibus hujusce regni aggregamus; juramento
infra scripto priùs per nos de te exacto, et a te jurato:--_Ego
Joannes Dryden, ad gradum et titulum Magistri in Artibus, per
Reverendissimum in Christo patron ac dominum, Gilbertum divinâ
providentiâ Cantuariensem Archiepiscopum, totius Angliæ Primatem
et Metropolitanum, admittendus, teste mihi conscientiâ testificor
serenissimum nostrum regem Carolum Secundum esse unicum et supremum
gubernatorem hujusce regni Angliæ, &c. sicut me Deus adjuvet, per sacra
Dei evangelia. _--Proviso semper quod hæ literæ tibi non proficiant,
nisi registrentur et subscribantur per Clericum Regiæ Majestatis ad
Facultates in Cancellaria.
“Dat. sub sigillo de Facultatibus, decimo septimo die mensis Junii,
Anno Domini 1668, et nostræ translationis anno quinto. ”
No. II.
DRYDEN’S PATENT.
_Pat. 22. Car. II. p. 6. n. 6. _
CHARLES THE SECOND, by the grace of God, of England, Scotland,
France, and Ireland, king, defender of the faith, &c. to the lords
commissioners of our treasury, treasurer, chancellor, under-treasurer,
chamberlaines, and barons of the exchequer, of us, our heires and
successors, now being, and that hereafter shall bee, and to all other
the officers and ministers of our said court and of the receipt there,
now being and that hereafter shall bee; and to all others to whom these
presents shall come, greeting.
Know yee, that wee, for and in consideration of the many good and
acceptable services by John Dryden, Master of Arts, and eldest sonne of
Erasmus Dryden, of Tichmarsh, in the county of Northampton, esquire,
to us heretofore done and performed, and taking notice of the learning
and eminent abilities of him the said John Dryden, and of his great
skill and elegant style both in verse and prose, and for diverse
other good causes and considerations us thereunto especially moving,
have nominated, constituted, declared, and appointed, and by these
presents do nominate, constitute, declare, and appoint him, the said
John Dryden, our POET LAUREAT and HISTORIOGRAPHER ROYAL; giving and
granting unto him, the said John Dryden, all and singular the rights,
privileges, benefits, and advantages thereunto belonging, as fully and
amply as Sir Geoffery Chaucer, knight, Sir John Gower, knight, John
Leland, esquire, William Camden, esquire, Benjamin Johnson, esquire,
James Howell, esquire, Sir William D’Avenant, knight, or any other
person or persons having or exercising the place or employment of Poet
Laureat or Historiographer, or either of them, in the time of any of
our royal progenitors, had or received, or might lawfully claim or
demand, as incident or belonging unto the said places or employments,
or either of them. And for the further and better encouragement of
him, the said John Dryden, diligently to attend the said employment,
we are graciously pleased to give and grant, and by these presents,
for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant, unto the said
John Dryden, one annuity or yearly pension of two hundred pounds of
lawful money of England, during our pleasure, to have and to hold, and
yearly to receive the said annuity or pension of two hundred pounds
of lawful money of England by the yeare, unto the said John Dryden
and his assigns, from the death of the said Sir William D’Avenant
lately deceased, for and during our pleasure, at the receipt of the
exchequer, of us, our heirs and successors, out of the treasure of
us, our heirs and successors, from time to time there remaining, by
the hands of the treasurer or treasurers and chamberlains of us, our
heirs and successors, there for the time being, at the four usual
terms of the year, that is to say, at the feast of the nativity of
St John the Baptist, St Michael the Archangel, the birth of our Lord
God, and the annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, by even and
equal portions to be paid, the first payment thereof to begin at the
feast of the nativity of St John the Baptist next and immediately
after the death of the said Sir William D’Avenant, deceased. Wherefore
our will and pleasure is, and we do by these presents, for us, our
heirs and successors, require, command, and authorize the said lords
commissioners of our treasury, treasurer, chancellor, under-treasurer,
chamberlains, and barons, and other officers and ministers of the said
exchequer now and for the time being, not only to pay, or cause to
be paid, unto the said John Dryden and his assigns, the said annuity
or yearly pension of two hundred pounds of lawful money of England,
according to our will and pleasure herein before expressed, but also
from time to time to give full allowance of the same, according
to the true meaning of these presents. And these presents, or the
inrolment thereof, shall be unto all men whom it shall concern a
sufficient warrant and discharge for the paying and allowing of the
same accordingly, without any further or other warrant procured or
obtained. And further, know ye, that we, of our especial grace,
certain knowledge, and mere motion, have given and granted, and by
these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant,
unto the said John Dryden and his assigns, one butt or pipe of the
best canary wine, to have, hold, receive, perceive, and take the said
butt or pipe of canary wine unto the said John Dryden and his assigns,
during our pleasure, out of our store of wines yearly and from time to
time remaining at or in our cellars within or belonging to our palace
of Whitehall. And for the better effecting of our will and pleasure
herein, we do hereby require and command all and singular our officers,
and ministers whom it shall or may concern, or who shall have the care
or charge of our said wines, that they, or some of them, do deliver, or
cause to be delivered, the said butt or pipe of wine yearly, and once
in every year, unto the said John Dryden or his assigns, during our
pleasure, at such time and times as he or they shall demand or desire
the same. And these presents, or the inrolment thereof, shall be unto
all men whom it shall concern, a sufficient warrant and discharge in
that behalf, although express mention, &c. In witness, &c.
Witness the King at Westminster, the eighteenth day of August. [1670. ]
_Per breve de privato sigillo. _
No. III.
THE AGREEMENT CONCERNING THE FABLES
I doe hereby promise to pay John Dryden, Esquire, or order, on the
25th of March, 1699, the sume of two hundred and fifty guineas, in
consideration of ten thousand verses, which the said John Dryden,
Esquire, is to deliver to me Jacob Tonson, when finished, whereof
seaven thousand five hundred verses, more or lesse, are already in
the said Jacob Tonson’s possession. And I do hereby further promise
and engage my selfe to make up the said sume of two hundred and fifty
guineas, three hundred pounds sterling, to the said John Dryden,
Esquire, his executors, administrators, or assigns, att the beginning
of the second impression of the said ten thousand verses. In witnesse
whereof, I have hereunto sett my hand and seal this twentieth day of
March, 1698-9.
JACOB TONSON.
Sealed and delivered, being first
stampt pursuant to the acts of
Parliament for that purpose,
in the presence of
Benj. Portlock,
Will Congreve.
March the twenty-fourth, 1698.
Received then of Mr Jacob Tonson the sum of two hundred sixty-eight
pounds fifteen shillings, in pursuance of an agreement for ten thousand
verses to be delivered by me to the said Jacob Tonson, whereof I have
already delivered to him about seven thousand five hundred, more or
less: he the sayd Jacob Tonson being obliged to make up the foresayd
sum of two hundred sixty-eight pounds fifteen shillings, three hundred
pounds, at the beginning of the second impression or the foresayd ten
thousand verses.
I say, received by me,
JOHN DRYDEN.
Witness, Charles Dryden.
_The following receipt is written on the back of_ JACOB TONSON’S
_Agreement, dated March_ 20, 1698-9.
June 11, 1713. Received of the within-named Jacob Tonson, thirty-one
pounds five shillings, which, with two hundred sixty-eight pounds
fifteen shillings paid Mr John Dryden the 24th of March 1698, is in
full for the copy of a book intituled “Dryden’s FABLES,” consisting of
ten thousand verses, more or lesse: I say received as administratrix to
the said John Dryden, of such effects as were not administered to by
Charles Dryden.
ANN SYLVIUS.
Witnesses, Eliz. Jones.
Jacob Tonson, Jun^r.
Paid Mr Dryden, March the 23d, 1698.
L. s. d.
In a bag in silver 100 0 0
In silver besides 21 15 6
66 Lewis d’ores at 17s. 6d. 57 15 0
83 Guyneas at [1] 1 6 89 4 6
-------------
268 15 0
=============
250 Guyneas at L. 1 1s. 6d. are 268 15 0
L. s. d.
268 15 0
31 5 0
===========
300 0 0
No. IV.
MR RUSSEL’s BILL FOR MR DRYDEN’S FUNERALLS.
For the funerall of Esq^{re} Dryden.
L. s. d.
A double coffin covered with cloath, and
sett of [off] with work gilt with gold 5 0 0
A herse with six white Flanders horses 1 10 0
Covering the herse with velvet, and
velvet housings for the horses 1 0 0
17 plumes of feathers for herse and horses 3 0 0
Hanging the Hall[210] with a border of bays 5 0 0
6 dozen of paper escucheons for the Hall 3 12 0
A large pall of velvet 0 10 0
10 silk escucheons for the pall 2 10 0
24 buck: escucheons for herse and horses 2 8 0
12 shields and six shaffroones for ditto 2 8 0
3 mourning coaches with six horses 2 5 0
Silver dish and rosemary 0 5 0
8 scarves for musicioners 2 0 0
8 hatbands for ditto 1 0 0
17 yds of crape to cover their instruments 1 14 0
4 mourning cloakes 0 10 0
Pd 6 men moveing the corps to the Hall 0 6 0
8 horsemen in long cloakes to ride before
the herse 4 0 0
-----------
Carried over 38 18 0
L. S. d.
Brought over 38 18 0
13 footmen in velvet capps, to walk on
each side the herse 1 19 0
6 porters that attended at the doores, and
walked before the herse to the Abby,
in mourning gowns and staves 1 10 0
An atchievement for the house 3 10 0
-----------
45 17 0
-----------
We may add to these accounts the Description of the Funeral
itself, extracted from the London Spy of WARD, who was
doubtless a spectator.
“A deeper concern hath scarce been known to affect in general the
minds of grateful and ingenious men, than the melancholy surprise
of the worthy Mr Dryden’s death hath occasioned through the whole
town, as well as in all other parts of the kingdom, where any persons
either of wit or learning have taken up their residence. Wheresoever
his incomparable writings have been scattered by the hands of the
travellers into foreign nations, the loss of so great a man must needs
be lamented amongst their bards and rabbies; and ’tis reasonable
to believe the commendable industry of translations has been such,
to render several of his most accurate performances into their own
language, that their native country might receive the benefit, and
themselves the reputation of so laudable an undertaking: and how far
the wings of merit have conveyed the pleasing fruits of his exuberant
fancy, is a difficult conjecture, considering what a continual
correspondence our nation has with most parts of the universe. For
it is reasonable to believe all Christian kingdoms and colonies at
least, have been as much the better for his labours, as the world is
the worse for the loss of him. Those who were his enemies while he
was living, (for no man lives without,) his death has now made such
friends to his memory, that they acknowledge they cannot but in justice
give him this character, that he was one of the greatest scholars, the
most correct dramatic poet, and the best writer of heroic verse, that
any age has produced in England. And yet, to verify the old proverb,
that poets, like prophets, have little honour in their own countries,
notwithstanding his merits had justly entitled his corpse to the most
magnificent and solemn interment the beneficence of the greatest
spirits could have bestowed on him; yet, ’tis credibly reported, the
ingratitude of the age is such, that they had like to have let him
pass in private to his grave, without those funeral obsequies suitable
to his greatness, had it not been for that true British worthy, who,
meeting with the venerable remains of the neglected bard passing
silently in a coach, unregarded to his last home, ordered the corpse,
by the consent of his few friends that attended him, to be respited
from so obscure an interment, and most generously undertook, at his
own expence, to revive his worth in the minds of a forgetful people,
by bestowing on his peaceful dust a solemn funeral answerable to his
merit; which memorable action alone will eternalize his fame with the
greatest heroes, and add that lustre to his nobility, which time can
never tarnish, but will shine with equal glory in all ages, and in
the very teeth of envy bid defiance to oblivion. The management of
the funeral was left to Mr Russel, pursuant to the directions of that
honourable great man the lord Jefferies, concerned chiefly in the pious
undertaking.
“The first honour done to his deserving relics, was lodging them in
Physicians College, from whence they were appointed to take their
last remove. The constituted day for the celebration of that office,
which living heroes perform in respect to a dead worthy, was Monday
the 13th of May, in the afternoon; at which time, according to the
notice given, most of the nobility and gentry now in town assembled
themselves together at the noble edifice aforesaid, in order to honour
the corpse with their personal attendance. When the company were met,
a performance of grave music, adapted to the solemn occasion, was
communicated to the ears of the company, by the hands of the best
masters in England, whose artful touches on their soft instruments
diffused such harmonious influence amongst the attentive auditory, that
the most heroic spirits in the whole assembly were unable to resist
the passionate force of each dissolving strain, but melted into tears
for the loss of so elegant and sweet a ravisher of human minds; and,
notwithstanding their undaunted bravery, which had oft scorned death
in the field, yet now, by music’s enchantment at the funeral of so
great a poet, were softened beneath their own natures, into a serious
reflection on mortality.
“When this part of the solemnity was ended, the famous Doctor G----th
ascended the pulpit where the physicians make their lectures, and
delivered, according to the Roman custom, a funeral oration in Latin
on his deceased friend, which he performed with great approbation and
applause of all such gentlemen that heard him, and were true judges of
the matter; most rhetorically setting forth those elegies and encomiums
which no poet hitherto, but the great Dryden, could ever truly deserve.
When these rites were over in the College, the corpse, by bearers for
that purpose, was handed into the hearse, being adorned with plumes
of black feathers, and the sides hung round with the escutcheons of
his ancestors, mixed with that of his lady’s; the hearse drawn by six
stately Flanders horses; every thing being set off with the most useful
ornaments to move regard, and affect the memories of the numberless
spectators, as a means to encourage every sprightly genius to attempt
something in their lives that may once render their dust worthy of
so public a veneration. All things being put in due order for their
movement, they began their solemn procession towards Westminster Abbey,
after the following manner:
“The two beadles of the College marched first, in mourning cloaks and
hat-bands, with the heads of their staffs wrapt in black crape scarfs,
being followed by several other servile mourners, whose business
was to prepare the way, that the hearse might pass less liable to
interruption; next to these moved a concert of hautboys and trumpets,
playing and sounding together a melancholy funeral-march, undoubtedly
composed upon that particular occasion; (after these, the undertaker
with his hat off, dancing through the dirt like a bear after a bagpipe.
I beg the reader’s pardon for foisting in a jest in so improper a
place, but as he walked by himself within a parenthesis, so I have here
placed him, and hope none will be offended;) then came the hearse, as
before described, most honourably attended with abundance of quality
in their coaches and six horses; that it may be justly reported to
posterity, no ambassador from the greatest emperor in all the universe,
sent over with the welcome embassy to the throne of England, ever made
his public entry to the court with half that honour as the corpse of
the great Dryden did its last exit to the grave. In this order the
nobility and gentry attended the hearse to Westminster Abbey, where the
quire, assisted with the best masters in England, sung an Epicedium;
and the last funeral rites being performed by one of the prebends, he
was honourably interred between Chaucer and Cowley; where, according to
report, will be erected a very stately monument, at the expence of some
of the nobility, in order to recommend his worth, and to preserve his
memory to all succeeding ages. ”
No. V.
MRS THOMAS’S LETTERS CONCERNING DRYDEN’S DEATH AND FUNERAL;
_Extracted from Wilson’s Life of Congreve, 1730. _
[As tales of wonder are generally acceptable to the public, I
insert these memorable Epistles, with the necessary caveat,
that they are full of every kind of blunder and inconsistency. ]
“These Memoirs were communicated to me by a lady, now living, with whom
Mr Dryden corresponded under the name of Corinna, and which name he
himself gave her.
’SIR,
’Mr Dryden was son of -------- Dryden, of an ancient and good family
in Northamptonshire, by a sister of Sir Gilbert Pickering, Bart. of
the same county; who has a handsome monument at Tichmarsh, erected
in 1721, by the late widow Creed of Oundle, the daughter of another
sister of Sir Gilbert’s, and niece to the famous Earl of Sandwich,
who was killed in the Dutch war, 1667, being then admiral. He married
Lady Elizabeth Howard, (a celebrated beauty) daughter to the old Earl
of Berkshire, sister to Sir Robert Howard, Colonel Philip Howard, and
Mr Edward Howard: (who wrote “The British Prince,” &c. ;) she bore him
three sons, Charles, John, and Harry. He lived many years in a very
good house in Gerrard street, the 5th or 6th door on the left-hand from
Newport-market. On the 19th of April, 1700, he said he had been very
bad with the gout, and an erysipelas in one leg; but he was then very
well, and designed to go soon abroad: but on the Friday following, he
had eat a partridge for his supper; and going to take a turn in the
little garden behind his house, was seized with a violent pain under
the ball of the great-toe of his right-foot, that, unable to stand,
he cried out for help, and was carried in by his servants; when, upon
sending for surgeons, they found a small black spot in the place
affected: He submitted to their present applications; and when gone,
called his son Charles to him, using these words, “I know,” says he,
“this black spot is a mortification; I know also, that it will seize
my head, and that they will cut off my leg: but I command you, my son,
by your filial duty, that you do not suffer me to be dismembered. ” As
he, too truly, foretold, the event proved; and his son was too dutiful
to disobey his father’s commands. On the Wednesday morning following,
being May-day, 1700, under the most excruciating dolours, he died.
Dr Sprat, then bishop of Rochester, sent, on the Thursday, to Lady
Elizabeth, that he would make a present of the ground, which was 40l.
with all the other abbey-fees, &c. to his deceased friend. Lord Halifax
sent also to my lady and Mr Charles, that if they would give him leave
to bury Mr Dryden, he would inter him with a gentleman’s private
funeral, and afterwards bestow 500l. on a monument in the Abbey;
which, as they had no reason to refuse, they accepted. On the Saturday
following the company came, the corpse was put into a velvet hearse,
and eighteen mourning coaches, filled with company, attending. When,
just before they began to move, Lord Jefferies, with some of his rakish
companions, coming by, in wine, asked, whose funeral? and being told,
“What! ” cries he, “shall Dryden, the greatest honour and ornament of
the nation, be buried after this private manner? No, gentlemen; let
all that loved Mr Dryden, and honour his memory, alight, and join
with me in gaining my lady’s consent, to let me have the honour of
his interment, which shall be after another manner than this, and I
will bestow 1000l. on a monument in the Abbey for him. ” The gentlemen
in the coaches not knowing of the bishop of Rochester’s favour, nor
of Lord Halifax’s generous design, (these two noble spirits having,
out of respect to the family, enjoined Lady Elizabeth and her son to
keep their favour concealed to the world, and let it pass for her own
expence, &c. ), readily came out of the coaches, and attended Lord
Jefferies up to the lady’s bed-side, who was then sick, He repeated the
purport of what he had before said; but she absolutely refusing, he
fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request was granted.
The rest of the company, by his desire, kneeled also; she being
naturally of a timorous disposition, and then under a sudden surprise,
fainted away. As soon as she recovered her speech, she cried, no, no.
Enough, gentlemen, replied he, (rising briskly,) my lady is very good;
she says, go, go. She repeated her former words with all her strength,
but, alas! in vain, her feeble voice was lost in their acclamations of
joy; and Lord Jefferies ordered the hearsemen to carry the corpse to
Russell’s, the undertaker, in Cheapside, and leave it there, till he
sent orders for the embalment, which, he added, should be after the
royal manner. His directions were obeyed, the company dispersed, and
Lady Elizabeth and Mr Charles remained inconsolable. Next morning Mr
Charles waited on Lord Halifax, &c. to excuse his mother and self, by
relating the real truth: but neither his lordship, nor the bishop,
would admit of any plea; especially the latter, who had the Abbey
lighted, the ground opened, the choir attending, an anthem ready set,
and himself waiting, for some hours, without any corpse to bury,
Russel, after three days expectance of orders for embalment, without
receiving any, waits on Lord Jefferies, who, pretending ignorance of
the matter, turned it off with an ill-natured jest, saying, “Those who
observed the orders of a drunken frolic, deserved no better; that he
remembered nothing at all of it, and he might do what he pleased with
the corpse. ” On this Mr Russell waits on Lady Elizabeth and Mr Dryden;
but, alas! it was not in their power to answer. The season was very
hot, the deceased had lived high and fast; and being corpulent, and
abounding with gross humours, grew very offensive. The undertaker, in
short, threatened to bring home the corpse, and set it before their
door. It cannot be easily imagined, what grief, shame, and confusion,
seized this unhappy family. They begged a day’s respite, which was
granted. Mr Charles wrote a very handsome letter to Lord Jefferies, who
returned it, with this cool answer, “He knew nothing of the matter,
and would be troubled no more about it. ” He then addressed the Lord
Halifax and bishop of Rochester, who were both too justly, though
unhappily, incensed, to do any thing in it. In this extreme distress,
Dr Garth, a man who entirely loved Mr Dryden, and was withal a man of
generosity and great humanity, sends for the corpse to the College of
Physicians in Warwicklane, and proposed a funeral by subscription,
to which himself set a most noble example; Mr Wycherley, and several
others, among whom must not be forgotten, Henry Cromwell, Esq. Captain
Gibbons, and Mr Christopher Metcalfe, Mr Dryden’s apothecary and
intimate friend, (since a collegiate physician,) who, with many others,
contributed most largely to the subscription; and at last a day, about
three weeks after his decease, was appointed for the interment at
the Abbey. Dr Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration over the corpse
at the College; but the audience being numerous, and the room large,
it was requisite the orator should be elevated, that he might be
heard; but, as it unluckily happened, there was nothing at hand but
an old beer-barrel, which the doctor, with much good-nature, mounted;
and, in the midst of his oration, beating time to the accent with
his foot, the head broke in, and his feet sunk to the bottom, which
occasioned the malicious report of his enemies, that he was turned a
tub-preacher: However, he finished the oration with a superior grace
and genius, to the loud acclamations of mirth, which inspired the
mixed or rather mob-auditors. The procession began to move, a numerous
train of coaches attended the hearse; but, good God! in what disorder,
can only be expressed by a sixpenny pamphlet, soon after published,
entitled, “Dryden’s Funeral. ” At last the corpse arrived at the Abbey,
which was all unlighted. No organ played, no anthem sung; only two of
the singing boys preceded the corpse, who sung an ode of Horace, with
each a small candle in their hand. The butchers and other mob broke
in like a deluge, so that only about eight or ten gentlemen could get
admission, and those forced to cut the way with their drawn swords.
The coffin, in this disorder, was let down into Chaucer’s grave, with
as much confusion, and as little ceremony, as was possible; every one
glad to save themselves from the gentlemen’s swords, or the clubs of
the mob. When the funeral was over, Mr Charles sent a challenge to Lord
Jefferies, who refusing to answer it, he sent several others, and went
often himself, but could neither get a letter delivered, nor admittance
to speak to him; which so justly incensed him, that he resolved, since
his lordship refused to answer him like a gentleman, he would watch an
opportunity to meet him, and fight off hand, though with all the rules
of honour; which his lordship hearing, left the town; and Mr Charles
could never have the satisfaction to meet him, though he sought it till
his death with the utmost application. This is the true state of the
case, and surely no reflection to the manes of this great man.
“Thus it is very plain, that his being buried by contribution, was
owing to a vile drunken frolic of the Lord Jefferies, as I have
related. Mr Dryden enjoyed himself in plenty, while he lived, and the
surplusage of his goods paid all his debts. After his decease, the
Lady Elizabeth, his widow, took a lesser house in Sherrard-street,
Golden-square, and had wherewithal to live frugally genteel, and keep
two servants, to the day of her death, by the means of a small part of
her fortune, which her relations had obliged Mr Dryden to secure to
her on marriage. This was 80l. per annum, and duly paid at 20l. per
quarter; so that, I can assure you, there was no want to her dying-day.
He had only three sons, and all provided for like gentlemen. Mr Charles
had served the Pontiff of Rome above nine years, in an honourable
and profitable post, as usher to the palace, out of which he had an
handsome stipend remitted by his brother John, whom, by the pope’s
favour, he left to officiate, while he came to visit his father, who
dying soon after his arrival, he returned no more to Italy, but was
unhappily drowned at Windsor in swimming cross the river. Mr John died
in his post at Rome, and Harry the youngest was a religious; he had
30l. a year allowed by his college in Flanders, besides a generous
salary from his near relation the too well-known Duchess of Norfolk,
to whom he was domestic chaplain. Behold the great wants of this
deplorable family!
I am, Sir,
Your’s, &c.
CORINNA.
_May_ 15, 1729.
P. S. ‘Mr Dryden was educated at Westminster school, under the great Dr
Bushby, being one of the king’s scholars upon the royal foundation. ’
* * * * *
’SIR,
’Upon recollection, I think it must have been that remarkably fine
gentleman, Pope Clement XI. , to whom Mr Charles Dryden was usher of the
palace. His brother John died of a fever at Rome, not many months after
his father, and was buried there; whether before the pope or after
I cannot say; but the difference was not much. Mr Charles, who was
drowned at Windsor, 1704, was doubtless buried there. Lady Elizabeth
lived about eight years after her spouse, and for five years of the
time, without any memory, which she lost by a fever in 1703; she was a
melancholy object, and was, by her son Harry, as I was told, carried
into the country, where she died. What country I never heard. I cannot
certainly say where Mr Harry died, or whether before his mother or
after.
’Mr Dryden never had any wife but Lady Elizabeth, whatever may have
been reported.
’As he was a man of a versatile genius, he took great delight in
judicial astrology; though only by himself. There were some incidents
which proved his great skill, that were related to Lady Chudleigh at
the Bath, and which she desired me to ask Lady Elizabeth about, as I
after did; which she not only confirmed, by telling me the exact matter
of fact, but added another, which had never been told to any; and which
I can solemnly aver was some years before it came to pass. I purposely
omitted these Narratives in the Memoirs of Mr Dryden, lest that this
over-witty age, which so much ridicules prescience, should think the
worse of all the rest; but, if you desire particulars, they shall be
freely at your service.
I am, Sir,
Your’s, &c.
CORINNA.
_16th June_, 1729.
* * * * *
_The Narratives referred to in the foregoing Letter, viz. _
’Notwithstanding Mr Dryden was a great master of that branch of
astronomy, called judicial astrology, there were very few, scarce any,
the most intimate of his friends, who knew of his amusements that way,
except his own family. In the year 1707, that deservedly celebrated
Lady Chudleigh being at the Bath, was told by the Lady Elizabeth of a
very surprising instance of this judgement on his eldest son Charles’s
horoscope. Lady Chudleigh, whose superior genius rendered her as
little credulous on the topic of prescience, as she was on that of
apparitions; yet withal was of so candid and curious a disposition,
that she neither credited an attested tale on the quality or character
of the relater, nor did she altogether despise it, though told by the
most ignorant: Her steady zeal for truth always led her to search
to the foundation, of it; and on that principle, at her return to
London, she spoke to a gentlewoman of her acquaintance, that was well
acquainted in Mr Dryden’s family, to ask his widow about it; which she
accordingly did. It is true, report has added many incidents to matter
of fact; but the real truth, taken from Lady Elizabeth’s own mouth, is
in these words:
‘When I was in labour of Charles, Mr Dryden being told it was decent
to withdraw, laid his watch on the table, begging one of the ladies,
then present, in a most solemn manner, to take an exact notice of the
very minute when the child was born: which she did, and acquainted
him therewith. This passed without any singular notice; many fathers
having had such a fancy, without any farther thought. But about a week
after, when I was pretty hearty, he comes into my room; ‘My dear,’
says he, ‘you little think what I have been doing this morning;’ “nor
ever shall,” said I, “unless you will be so good to inform me. ” ‘Why,
then,’ cried he, ‘I have been calculating this child’s nativity, and
in grief I speak it, he was born in an evil hour; Jupiter, Venus,
and the Sun, were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant
afflicted by a hateful square of Mars and Saturn. If he lives to arrive
at his eighth year, he will go near to die a violent death on his very
birth-day; but if he should escape, as I see but small hopes, he will,
in his twenty-third year, be under the very same evil direction: and
if he should, which seems almost impossible, escape that also, the
thirty-third or thirty-fourth year is, I fear’----I interrupted him
here, “O, Mr Dryden, what is this you tell me? my blood runs cold at
your fatal speech; recal it, I beseech you. Shall my little angel, my
Dryden boy, be doomed to so hard a fate? Poor innocent, what hast thou
done? No: I will fold thee in my arms, and if thou must fall, we will
both perish together. ” A flood of tears put a stop to my speech; and
through Mr Dryden’s comfortable persuasions, and the distance of time,
I began to be a little appeased, but always kept the fatal period in
my mind. At last the summer arrived, August was the inauspicious month
in which my dear son was to enter on his eighth year. The court being
in progress, and Mr Dryden at leisure, he was invited to my brother
Berkshire’s to keep the long vacation with him at Charleton in Wilts;
I was also invited to my uncle Mordaunt’s, to pass the remainder of
the summer at his country-seat. All this was well enough; but when we
came to dividing the children, I would have had him took John, and let
me have the care of Charles; because, as I told him, a man might be
engaged in company, but a woman could have no pretence for not guarding
of the evil hour. Poor Mr Dryden was in this too absolute, and I as
positive. In fine, we parted in anger; and, as a husband always will
be master, he took Charles, and I was forced to be content with my son
John. But when the fatal day approached, such anguish of heart seized
me, as none but a fond mother can form any idea of. I watched the post;
that failed: I wrote and wrote, but no answer. Oh, my friend! judge
what I endured, terrified with dreams, tormented by my apprehensions. I
abandoned myself to despair, and remained inconsolable.
’The anxiety of my spirits occasioned such an effervescence of my
blood, as threw me into so violent a fever, that my life was despaired
of, when a letter came from my spouse, reproving my womanish credulity,
and assured me all was well, and the child in perfect health; on
which I mended daily, and recovered my wonted state of ease, till
about six weeks after the fatal day, I received an _eclaircissement_
from Mr Dryden, with a full account of the whole truth, which belike
he feared to acquaint me with till the danger was over. It was this:
In the month of August, being Charles’s anniversary, it happened, that
Lord Berkshire had made a general hunting-match, to which were invited
all the adjacent gentlemen; Mr Dryden being at his house, and his
brother-in-law, could not be dispensed with from appearing.
’I have told you, that Mr Dryden, either through fear of being
thought superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study,
was extremely cautious in letting any one know that he was a dabbler
in astrology, therefore could not excuse his absence from the sport;
but he took care to set the boy a double exercise in the Latin tongue,
(which he taught his children himself,) with a strict charge not to
stir out of the room till his return, well knowing the task he had
set him would take up longer time. Poor Charles was all obedience,
and sat close to his duty, when, as ill fate ordained, the stag made
towards the house. The noise of the dogs, horns, &c. alarmed the family
to partake of the sport; and one of the servants coming down stairs,
the door being open, saw the child hard at his exercise without being
moved. ‘Master,’ cried the fellow, ‘why do you sit there? come down,
come down, and see the sport. ’ ‘No,’ replied Charles, ’my papa has
forbid me, and I dare not. ’ ‘Pish! ’ quoth the clown, ‘vather shall
never know it;’ so takes the child by the hand, and leads him away;
when, just as they came to the gate, the stag, being at bay with the
dogs, cut a bold stroke, and leaped over the court-wall, which was
very low and very old, and the dogs following, threw down at once a
part of the wall ten yards in length, under which my dear child lay
buried. He was as soon as possible dug out; but, alas, how mangled! his
poor little head being crushed to a perfect mash. In this miserable
condition he continued above six weeks, without the least hope of life.
Through the Divine Providence he recovered, and in process of time,
having a most advantageous invitation to Rome, from my uncle, Cardinal
Howard, we sent over our two sons Charles and John; (having, through
the grace of God, been ourselves admitted into the true Catholic
faith;) they were received suitable to the grandeur and generosity of
his eminence, and Charles immediately planted in a post of honour,
as gentleman-usher to his Holiness, in which he continued about nine
years. But what occasions me to mention this, is an allusion to my
dear Mr Dryden’s too fatal prediction. In his twenty-third year,
being in perfect health, he had attended some ladies of the palace,
his Holiness’s nieces, as it was his place, on a party of pleasure.
His brother John and he lodged together, at the top of an old round
tower belonging to the Vatican, (with a well staircase, much like the
Monument,) when he knew his brother Charles was returned, went up,
thinking to find him there, and to go to bed. But, alas! no brother
was there: on which he made a strict enquiry at all the places he used
to frequent, but no news, more than that he was seen by the centinel
to go up the staircase. On which he got an order for the door of
the foundation of the tower to be opened, where they found my poor
unfortunate son Charles mashed to a mummy, and weltering in his own
blood. How this happened, he gave no farther account, when he could
speak, than, that the heat of the day had been most excessive, and
as he came to the top of the tower, he found himself seized with a
megrim, or swimming in his head, and leaning against the iron rails, it
is to be supposed, tipped over, five stories deep. Under this grievous
mischance, his Holiness (God bless him! ) omitted nothing that might
conduce to his recovery; but as he lay many months without hopes of
life, so when he did recover his health, it was always very imperfect,
and he continues still to be of a hectic disposition.
’You see here (continued Lady Elizabeth) the too true fulfilling of two
of my dear husband’s fatal predictions. But, alas! my friend, there is
a third to come, which is, that in his thirty-third or thirty-fourth
year, he or I shall die a violent death; but he could not say which
would go first. I heartily pray it may be myself: But as I have ten
thousand fears, the daily challenges Charles sends to Lord Jefferies,
on his ungenerous treatment of my dear Mr Dryden’s corpse; and as
he has some value for you, I beg, my dearest friend, that you would
dissuade him as much as you can from taking that sort of justice on
Lord Jefferies, lest it should fulfil his dear father’s prediction. ’
* * * * *
“Thus far Lady Elizabeth’s own words.
“This, if required, I can solemnly attest was long before Mr Charles
died; to the best of my remembrance it was in 1701 or 1702, I will
not be positive which. But in 1703, Lady Elizabeth was seized with a
nervous fever, which deprived her of her memory and understanding,
(which surely may be termed a moral death,) though she lived some
years after. But Mr Charles, in August 1704, was unhappily drowned at
Windsor, as before recited. He had, with another gentleman, swam twice
over the Thames; but venturing a third time, it was supposed he was
taken with the cramp, because he called out for help, though too late.
I am, Sir, &c.
CORINNA. ”
_June_ 18, 1729.
_Mr_ CHARLES DRYDEN’S _Letter to_ CORINNA.
’_Madam_,
’Notwithstanding I have been seized with a fever ever since I saw you
last, I have this afternoon endeavoured to do myself the honour of
obeying my Lady Chudleigh’s commands. My fever is still increasing, and
I beg you to peruse the following verses, according to your own sense
and discretion, which far surpasses mine in all respects. In a small
time of intermission from my illness, I write these following:
MADAM,
How happy is our British isle, to bear
Such crops of wit and beauty to the fair?
A female muse each vying age has blest,
And the last Phoenix still excels the rest:
But you such solid learning add to rhymes,
Your sense looks fatal to succeeding times;
Which, raised to such a pitch, o’erflows like Nile,
And with an after-dearth must seize our isle.
Alone of all your sex, without the rules
Of formal pedants, or the noisy schools,
(What nature has bestowed will art supply? )
Have traced the various tracts of dark philosophy.
What happy days had wise Aurelius seen,
If, for Faustina, you his wife had been!
No jarring nonsense had his soul oppressed,
For he with all he wished for had been blessed.
’Be pleased to tell me what you find amiss, or correct it yourself, and
excuse this trouble from
Your most humble and most obedient servant,
CHAR. DRYDEN. ’
_Easter-Eve. _
“I have searched all our ecclesiastical offices for the will of Mr
Dryden, but I find he did not make any; administration was granted to
his son Charles (his wife, the Lady Elizabeth Howard, being a lunatic
for some time before her death) in June 1700. ”
No. VI.
MONUMENT IN THE CHURCH AT TICHMARSH.
“In the middle of the north wall of the chapel within the parish church
of Tichmarsh, in Northamptonshire, is a wooden monument, having the
bust of a person at top, wreathed, crowned with laurel. Underneath, THE
POET; and below, this inscription:
“Here lie the honoured remains
of Erasmus Dryden, Esq. , and Mary Pickering
his wife.
He was the third son of Sir Erasmus Dryden, an
ancient Baronet, who lived with great honour in
this county, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
Mr Dryden was a very ingenious worthy gentleman,
and Justice of the Peace in this county.
He married Mrs Mary Pickering, daughter of the
reverend Doc^r Pickering,[211] of Aldwinckle, and
grand-daughter to Sir Gilbert Pickering:
Of her it may truly be said,
She was a crown to her husband:
Her whole conversation was as becometh
the Gospel of Christ.
They had 14 children; the eldest of whom was
John Dryden, Esq. ,
the celebrated Poet and Laureat of his time.
His bright parts and learning are best seen in his
own excellent writings on various subjects.
We boast, that he was bred and had
his first learning here;
where he has often made us happie
by his kind visits and most delightful conversation.
He married the Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter to
Henry[212] Earl of Berkshire; by whom he had three
sons, Charles, John, and Erasmus-Henry;
and, after 70 odd years, when nature could be no
longer supported, he received the notice of
his approaching dissolution
with sweet submission and entire resignation
to the Divine will;
and he took so tender and obliging a farewell of
his friends, as none but he himself could have
expressed; of which sorrowful number
I was one.
His body was honourably interred in Westminster
Abby, among the greatest wits of divers ages.
His sons were all fine, ingenious, accomplished
gentlemen: they died in their youth, unmarried:
Sir Erasmus-Henry, the youngest, lived
till the ancient honour of the family
descended on him.
After his death, it came to his good uncle,
Sir Erasmus Dryden;
whose grandson is the present Sir John Dryden,
of Canons-Ashby, the ancient seat of the Family.
Sir Erasmus Dryden, the first named, married his
daughters into very honourable familyes; the
eldest to Sir John Philipps;[213] the second to
Sir John Hartop;[214] the youngest[215] was married
to Sir John Pickering, great grand-father to
the present Sir Gilbert Pickering, Bart. ;
and to the same persons I have the honour to be
a grand-daughter:
And it is with delight and humble thankfullness
that I reflect on the character of
my pious ancestors; and that I am
now, with my owne hand, paying my duty to
Sir Erasmus Dryden,
my great grand-father, and to
Erasmus Dryden, Esq. ,
my honoured uncle,[216] in the 80th year of my age.
ELIZA. CREED, 1722. ”
No. VII.
EXTRACT FROM AN EPISTOLARY POEM, TO JOHN DRYDEN, ESQ.
OCCASIONED BY THE MUCH-LAMENTED DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. JAMES EARL OF
ABINGDON;
BY WILLIAM PITTIS, LATE FELLOW OF NEW-COLLEGE, IN OXON.
_Quanto rectius hoc, quam tristi lœdere versu
Pantolabum scurram, Nomentanumq. Nepotem? _ HOR.
_----Cadet et Repheus justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teucris, et servantissimus æqui. _ ÆN. Lib. ii.
THE PREFACE.
_1699. 13. June. _
. . . And though I am not an author confirmed enough to carry my copies
about to gentlemen’s chambers, in order to pick up amendments and
corrections, as the practice is now of our most received writers; yet
I must, in justice to myself, and the gentleman who has favoured me
with its perusal, tell the world, it had been much worse had not Mr
Dryden acquainted me with its faults. Nothing indeed was so displeasing
to him, as what was pleasing to myself, viz. his own commendations:
and if it pleases the world, the reader has no one to thank but so
distinguishing a judgment who occasioned it.
I might here lay hold of the opportunity of returning the obliging
compliments he sent me by the person who brought the papers to him
before they were printed; but I may chance to call his judgement in
question by it, which I always accounted infallible, but in his kind
thoughts of me; and therefore refer the reader to the poem, in order to
see whether he’ll be so good natured as to join his opinion with the
compliment the gentleman aforesaid has honoured me with.
POEM.
But thou, great bard, whose hoary merits claim
The laureat’s place, without the laureat’s name;
Whose learned brows, encircled by the bays,
Bespeak their owner’s, and their giver’s praise;
Thou, Dryden, should’st our loss alone relate,
And heroes mourn, who heroes canst create.
Amidst thy verse the wife already shines,
And owes her virtues, what she owes thy lines.
Down from above the saint our sorrows views,
And feels a second heaven in thy muse;
Whose verse as lasting as her fame shall be,
While thou shall live by her, and she by thee.
Oh! let the same immortal numbers tell,
How just the husband lived, and how he fell;
What vows, when living, for his life were made;
What floods of tears at his decease were paid;
And since their deathless virtues were the same,
Equal in worth, alike should be their fame.
But thou, withdrawn from us, and public cares,
Flatter’st thy age, and feed’st thy growing years;
Supine, unmoved, regardless of our cries,
Thou mind’st not where thy noble patron lies:
Wrapt in death’s icy arms, within his urn,
Behold him sleeping, and, beholding, mourn:
Speechless that tongue for wholesome counsels famed,
And without sight those eyes for lust unblamed;
Bereaved of motion are those hands which gave
Alms to the needy, did the needy crave.
Ah! such a sight, and such a man divine,
Does only call for such a hand as thine!
Great is the task, and worthy is thy pen;
The best of bards should sing the best of men.
Awake, arise from thy lethargic state,
Mourn Britain’s loss, though Britain be ingrate;
Nor let the sacred Mantuan’s labours be
A _ne plus ultra_ to thy fame and thee.
Thy Abingdon, if once thy glorious theme,
Shall vie with his Marcellus for esteem;
Tears in his eyes, and sorrow in his heart,
Shall speak the reader’s grief, and writer’s art;
And, though this barren age does not produce
A great Augustus, to reward thy muse;
Though in this isle no good Octavia reigns,
And gives thee Virgil’s premium for his strains:
Yet, Dryden, for a while forsake thy ease,
And quit thy pleasures, that thou more may’st please.
Apollo calls, and every muse attends,
With every grace, who every beauty lends.
Sweet is thy voice, as was thy subject’s mind,
And, like his soul, thy numbers unconfined;
Thy language easy, and thy flowing song,
Soft as a vale, but like a mountain strong.
Such verse as thine, and such alone, should dare
To charge the muses with their present care.
Thine, and the cause of wit, with speed maintain,
Lest some rude hand the sacred work profane,
And the dull, mercenary, rhyming crew,
Rob the deceased and thee, of what’s your due.
Such fears as these, (if duty cannot move,
And make thy labours equal to thy love,)
Should hasten forth thy verse, and make it show
What thou, mankind, and every muse does owe.
As Abingdon’s high worth exalted shines,
And gives and takes a lustre from thy lines;
As Eleonora’s pious deeds revive
In him who shared her praises when alive:
So the stern Greek, whom nothing could persuade
To quit the rash engagements which he made,
With sullen looks, and helmet laid aside,
He soothed his anger, and indulged his pride;
Careless of fate, neglectful of the call
Of chiefs entreating, till Patroclus’ fall.
Roused by his death, his martial soul could bend,
And lose his whole resentments in his friend;
As to the dusky field he winged his course,
With eyes impatient, and redoubled force,
And weeped him dead, in thousands of the slain,
Whom living, Greece had beg’d his sword in vain.
O Dryden! quick the sacred pencil take,
And rise in virtue’s cause for virtue’s sake;
Of heaven’s the song, and heaven-born is thy muse,
Fitting to follow bliss, which mine will lose:
Bold are thy thoughts, and soaring is thy flight;
Thy fancy tempting, thy expressions bright;
Moving thy grief, and powerful is thy praise,
Or to command our tears, or joys to raise.
So shall his worth, from age to age conveyed,
Shew what the hero did, and poet paid;
And future times shall practice what they see
Performed so well by him, and praised by thee,
While I confess the weakness of my lays,
And give my wonder where thou giv’st thy praise:
As I from every muse but thine retire,
And him in thee, and thee in him, admire.
No. VIII.
EXTRACTS FROM POEMS ATTACKING DRYDEN, FOR HIS SILENCE UPON THE DEATH OF
QUEEN MARY.
The author of one of these Mourning Odes inscribes it to Dryden with
the following letter:
SIR,
Though I have little acquaintance with you, nor desire to have more, I
take upon me, with the assurance of a poet, to make this dedication to
you, which I hope you will the more easily excuse, since you have often
used the same freedom to others; and since I protest sincerely, that I
expect no money from you.
I could not forbear mentioning your admired Lewis, whom you compare to
Augustus, as justly as one may compare you to Virgil. Augustus (though
not the most exact pattern of a prince) yet, on some occasions, shewed
personal valour, and was not a league-breaker, a poisoner, a pirate:
Virgil was a good man and a clean poet; all his excellent writings may
be carried by a child in one hand more easily, than all your almonzors
can be by a porter upon both shoulders.
When I saw your prodigious epistle to the translation of Juvenal, I
feared you were wheeling to the government; I confess too, I long
expected something from you on the late sad occasion, that has employed
so many pens; but it is well that you have kept silence. I hope you
will always be on the other side; did even popery ever get any honour
by you? You may wonder that I subscribe not my name at length, but
I defer that to another time. I hear you are translating again; let
English Virgil be better than English Juvenal, or it is odds you will
hear of me more at large. In the mean time, hoping that you and your
covey will dislike what I _have written_, I remain, Sir, your very
humble servant,
A. B.
There is also an attack upon our author, as presiding in the Wits
Coffee-house, which gives us a curious view into the interior of that
celebrated place of rendezvous. It is entitled, “Urania’s Temple; or, a
Satire upon the Silent Poets,” and is as follows:--
URANIA’S TEMPLE; OR, A SATIRE UPON THE SILENT POETS.
_Carmina, nulla canam. _----VIRG.
_1694-5. 2. March. _
A house there stands where once a convent stood,
A nursery still to the old convent brood:
This ever hospitable roof of yore
The famous sign of the old Osiris bore,
A fair red Io, hieroglyphic-fair,
For all the suckling wits o’ the town milcht there.
This long old emblematic, that had past
Full many a bleak winter’s shaking blast,
At last with age fell down, some say, confusion,
Shamed and quite dasht at the new Revolution;
Dropt out of modesty, (as most suppose,)
Not daring face the new bright Royal Rose.
Here in supiner state, ’twixt reaking tiff,
And fumigating clouds of funk and whiff,
Snug in a nook, his dusky tripos, sits
A senior Delphic ’mongst the minor wits;
Feared like an Indian god, a god indeed
True Indian, smoked with his own native weed.
From this oped mouth, soft eloquence rich mint
Steals now and then a keen well-hammered hint,
Some sharp state raillery, or politic squint,
Hard midwived wit, births by slow labours stopt,
Sense not profusely shower’d, but only dropt.
Sometimes for oracles yet more profound,
A titillating sonnet’s handed round,
Some Abdication-Damon madrigal,
His own sour pen’s too overflowing gall.
I must confess in pure poetic rage,
Bowed down to the old Moloch of that age,
His strange bigotted muse our wonder saw,
Tuned to the late great court tarantula.
What though worn out in pleasures old and stale,
The reverend Outly sculkt within the pale;
It was enough, like the old Mahomet’s pigeon,
He lured to bread, and masked into religion.
Had that, now silent, muse been but so kind
As to this funeral-dirge her numbers joined,
On that great theme what wonders had he told!
For though the bard, the quill is not grown old,
Writes young Apollo still, with his whole rays
Encircled and enriched, though not his bays.
Thus when the wreath, so long, so justly due,
The great Mecænas from those brows withdrew,
With pain he saw such merit sunk so far,
Shamed that the dragon’s tail swept down the star.
Not that the conscience-shackle tied so hard,
But had he been the prophet, as the bard,
Prognostick’d the diminutive slender birth
His seven-hill’d mountain-labour has brought forth,
His foreseen precipice; that thought alone
Had stopt his fall, secured him all our own;
Free from his hypochondriac dreams he had slept,
And still his unsold Esau’s birthright kept.
’Tis thus we see him lost, thus mourn his fall;
That single teint alone has sullied all.
So have I in the Muses garden seen
The spreading rose, or blooming jessamine;
Once from whose bosom the whole Hybla train
The industrious treasurers of the rich plain,
Those winged foragers for their fragrant prey,
On loaded thighs bore thousand sweets away:
Now shaded by a sullen venomed guest
Cankered and sooted o’er to a spider’s nest.
His sweets thus soured, what melancholy change,
What an ill-natur’d lour, a face so strange!
His life one whole long scene of all unrest,
And airy hopes his thin cameleon-feast;
Pleased only with the pride of being preferred,
The echoed voice to his own listning herd,
A magisterial Belweather tape,
The lordly leader of his bleating troop.
These doctrines our young Sullenists preach round,
The texts which their poetic silence found.
But why the doctor of their chair, why thou,
Their great rabbinic voice, thus silent too?
