7. Aurenge-zebe; or the Great Mogul, a Tragedy, dedicated to the earl of Mulgrave, acted 1676. The story is related at large in Taverner's voyages to the Indies, vol. i. part 2. This play is written in heroic verse.
8. The Tempest; or the inchanted Island, a Comedy, acted at the duke of York's theatre, and printed in 4to. 1676. This is only an alteration of Shakespear's Tempest, by Sir William Davenant and Dryden. The new characters in it were chiefly the invention and writing of Sir William, as acknowledged by Mr. Dryden in his preface.
9. Feigned Innocence; or Sir Martin Mar-all, a Comedy, acted at the duke of York's theatre, and printed in 4to. 1678. The foundation of this is originally French, the greatest part of the plot and some of the language being taken from Moliere's Eteurdi.
10. The Assignation; or Love in a Nunnery, a Comedy, acted at the theatre-royal, and printed in 4to. 1678, addressed to Sir Charles Sedley. This play, Mr. Langbain tells us, was damned on the stage, or as the author expresses it in the epistle dedicatory, succeeded ill in the representation; but whether the fault was in the play itself, or in the lameness of the action, or in the numbers of its enemies, who came resolved to damn it for the title, he will not pretend any more than the author to determine.
11. The State of Innocence; or the Fall of Man, an Opera, written in heroic verse, and printed in 4to. 1678. It is dedicated to her royal highness the duchess of York, on whom the author passes the following extravagant compliment.
'Your person is so admirable, that it can scarce receive any addition when it shall be glorified; and your soul which shines thro' it, finds it of a substance so near her own, that she will be pleased to pass an age within it, and to be confined to such a palace.'
To this piece is prefixed an apology for heroic poetry, and poetic licence. The subject is taken from Milton's Paradise Lost, of which it must be acknowledged, it is a poor imitation.
12. The Conquest of Granada by the Spaniards, in two parts, two Tragi-Comedies, acted at the theatre-royal, and printed 1678. These two plays are dedicated to the duke of York, and were received on the stage with great applause. The story is to be found in Mariana's history of Spain, B. 25. chap. 18.
These plays are written in rhime. To the first is prefixed an essay on heroic plays, and to the second an essay on the dramatic poetry of the last age.
13. All for Love, or the World well Lost, a Tragedy, acted at the theatre-royal, and printed in quarto, 1678. It is dedicated to the earl of Danby.
This is the only play of Mr. Dryden's which he says ever pleased himself; and he tells us, that he prefers the scene between Anthony and Ventidius in the first act, to any thing he had written in this kind. It is full of fine sentiments, and the most poetical and beautiful descriptions of any of his plays: the description of Cleopatra in her barge, exceeds any thing in poetry, except Shakespear's, and his own St. Cecilia.
14. Tyrannic Love; or the Royal Martyr, a Tragedy, acted at the theatre-royal 1679. It is written in rhime, and dedicated to the duke of Monmouth.
15. Troilus and Cressida; or Truth found too late; a Tragedy, acted at the duke's theatre, and printed in 4to. 1679. It is dedicated to the earl of Sunderland, and has a preface prefixed concerning grounds of criticism in tragedy. This play was originally Shakespear's, and revised, and altered by Mr. Dryden, who added several new scenes.—The plot taken from Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida, which that poet translated from the original story written in Latin verse, by Lollius, a Lombard.
17. Secret Love; or the Maiden Queen, a Tragi-Comedy, acted at the theatre-royal, and printed in 4to, 1697. The serious part of the plot is founded on the history of Cleobuline, Queen of Corinth.
18. The Rival Ladies, a Tragi-Comedy, acted at the theatre-royal 1679. It is dedicated to the earl of Orrery. The dedication is in the nature of a preface, in defence of English verse or rhime.
19. The Kind Keeper; or Mr. Limberham, a Comedy, acted at the duke's theatre, printed in 4to. 1680. It is dedicated to John lord Vaughan. Mr. Langbain says, it so much exposed the keepers about town, that all the old letchers were up in arms against it, and damned it the third night.
20. The Spanish Fryar; or the Double Discovery, a Tragi Comedy, acted at the duke's theatre, and printed 1681. It is dedicated to John lord Haughton. This is one of Mr. Dryden's best plays, and still keeps possession of the stage. It is said, that he was afterwards so much concerned for having ridiculed the character of the Fryar, that it impaired his health: what effect bigotry, or the influence of priests, might have on him, on this occasion, we leave others to determine.
21. Duke of Guise, a Tragedy, acted 1688. It was written by Dryden and Lee, and dedicated to Hyde earl of Rochester. This play gave great offence to the Whigs, and engaged several writers for and against it.
22. Albion and Albanius, an Opera, performed at the Queen's theatre in Dorset-Gardens, and printed in folio 1685. The subject of it is wholly allegorical, and intended to expose my lord Shaftfbury and his party.
23. Don Sebastian King of Portugal, a Tragedy, acted 1690, dedicated to the earl of Leicester.
24. King Arthur; or the British worthy, a Tragedy, acted 1691, dedicated to the marquis of Hallifax.
25. Amphytrion; or the two Socias, a Comedy, acted 1691, dedicated to Sir Leveson Gower, taken from Plautus and Moliere.
26. Cleomenes, the Spartan Hero, a Tragedy, acted at the theatre-royal, and printed in 4to. 1692, dedicated to the earl of Rochester. There is prefixed to it the Life of Cleomenes, translated from Plutarch by Mr. Creech. This play was first prohibited by the lord Chamberlain, but upon examination being found innocent of any design to satirize the government, it was suffered to be represented, and had great success. In the preface, the author tells us, that a foolish objection had been raised against him by the sparks, for Cleomenes not accepting the favours of Cassandra. 'They (says he) would not have refused a fair lady; I grant they would not, but let them grant me, that they are no heroes.'
27. Love Triumphant; or Nature will prevail, a Tragi-comedy, acted 1694. It is dedicated to the earl of Shaftsbury, and is the last Mr. Dryden wrote, or intended for the theatre. It met with but indifferent success, tho' in many parts the genius of that great man breaks out, especially in the discovery of Alphonfo's successful love, and in the catastrophe, which is extremely effecting.
In Obitum JOHAN. DRYDENI,
poetarum Anglorum facilé principis.
Pindarus Anglorum magnus, cujusque senilem
Ornavit nuper frontem Parnissia laurus,
Sive cothurnatum molitur musa laborem,
Sive levem ludit foccum, seu grande Maronis
Immortalis epos tentat, seu carmine pingit
Mordaci mores homitium, nunc occidit, eheu!
Occidit, atque tulit secum Permessidos undas;
Et fontem exhausit totum Drydenius Heros.
Heu! miserande senex! jam frigida tempora
circùm
Marcessit laurus, musæ, mæstissima turba!
Circumstant, largoque humeclant imbre cadaver;
Sheffeildum video, in lacrymis multoque dolore
Formosum, ætatis Flaccum, vatisque patronum;
Te Montacute, te, cujus musa triumphos
Carmine Boynæos cucinit, magnumque Wilhelmum
Æternavit, et olim Boynam, ignobile flumen;
Teque, O! et legum et musarum gloria! et alter
Mæcenas; cui lingua olim facunda labantem
Defendit mitræ causam; nee teruit aula
Prava jubens—vos, O jam tanguni funera vatis!
Jamque dies aderat, magnâ stipante catervâ,
Quo Phoebea cohors facras comitatur ad urnam
Reliquias, et supremum pia solvit honorem;
Jamque graves planctus, jamque illaetabile murmur
Audio Melpomenis latè, dum noster Apollo
Flebilis ante omnes, Sacvillus, tristia ducit
Agmina Pieridum, Cytharamqueaccommodatodæ;
Ipse ego, dum totidem comitentur funera musæ,
Ipse sequor mæstus; bustum venerabile fletu
Carminibufque struam multis, animumque poetæ
His faltem donis cumulabo, et fungar inani
Munere.——
At te musa mori vetat, O post sata, vel ipsa
Marmora, cum annorum fuerint rubigine scabra;
Major eris vivo; tibi scripta perennius ære
Aut faxo, condent monumentum illustre per orbem,
Secula cuncta legant, et te mirentur in illis.
JOHAN. PHILIPS,
1700. Ætat. 24. Interioris templi alumnus.
The above were thrown in Dryden's grave. We are assured they were never in print before.
[Footnote 1: Athen. Oxon.]
[Footnote 2: He might have added, 'twas unnatural.]
[Footnote 3: Defence, or the Essay on Dramatic Poetry.]
[Footnote 4: Original Poems.]
[Footnote 5: This was written before Mr. Dodsley's edition of Virgil in
English appeared.]
[Footnote 6: Essay on Criticism.]
[Footnote 7: Life of Congreve.]
[Footnote 8: In Millar's edition of the bishop's work, we have the following note upon this passage. 'This (says the editor) must be understood of his performances for the stage; for as to his personal character, there was nothing remarkably vicious in it: but his plays are, some of them, the fullest of obscenity of any now extant.']
* * * * *
Sir CHARLES SEDLEY, Bart.
This gentleman, who obtained a great name in the world of gallantry, was son of Sir John Sedley, of Aylesford in Kent. When our author was about the age of 17, he became a fellow of Wadham college 1656, but he took no degree. When he quitted the university, he retired into his own country, and neither went to travel nor to the inns of court. As soon as the restoration was effected, Sir Charles came to London, in order to join in the general jubilee, and then commenced wit, courtier, poet, and gallant.
He was so much applauded in all conversations that he began to be the oracle of the poets; and it was by his judgment every performance was approved or condemned; which made the King jest with him, and tell him, that nature had given him a patent to be Apollo's viceroy. Lord Rochester bears testimony to this, when he puts him foremost among the judges of poetry.
I loath the rabble, tis enough for me,
If Sedley, Shadwell, Shepherd, Wycherly,
Godolphin, Butler, Buckhurst, Buckingham,
And some few more, whom I omit to name,
Approve my sense, I count their censure same.
It happened by Sir Charles, in respect of the king, as is said of the famous cardinal Richlieu, viz. That they who recommended him to the Royal savour, thereby supplanted themselves, and afterwards envied him; but with this difference between the Cardinal and Sir Charles, that the latter was never ungrateful. When he had a taste of the court, as the King never would part with him, so he never would part from the King; and yet two things proved particularly detrimental to him in it, first his estate, so far from being improved was diminished; and secondly his morals were debauched. The King delighted in his conversation, and he was the dearer to his Majesty on this account, that he never asked a favour; whereas some other courtiers by their bold importunity exhausted that prince's treasures, who could not deny a man who craved, tho' he hated his forwardness; nor could remember the silent indigence of his friend, tho' he applauded the modesty of it. He was deeply immersed in the public distractions of the times, and is said to have committed many debaucheries, of which the following instance has been recorded.
In the month of June 1663 our author, Charles lord Buckhurst, and Sir Thomas Ogle, were convened at a public house in Bow-street, Covent-Garden, and being enflamed with strong liquors, they went up to the balcony belonging to that house, and there shewed very indecent postures, and gave great offence to the passengers in the street by very unmannerly discharges upon them; which done, Sedley stripped himself naked, and preached to the people in a gross and scandalous manner; whereupon a riot being raised, the mob became very clamorous, and would have forced the door next to the street; but being opposed, the preacher and his company were driven off the balcony, and the windows of a room into which they retired were broken by the mob. The frolic being soon spread abroad, and as persons of fashion were concerned in it, it was so much the more aggravated. The company were summoned to appear before a court of justice in Westminster-Hall, where being indicted for a riot before Sir Robert Hyde, lord chief justice of the Common Pleas, they were all fined, and Sir Charles being sentenced to pay 500 l. he used some very impertinent expressions to the judge; who thereupon asked him if he had ever read a book called the Compleat Gentleman; to which Sir Charles made answer, that he had read more books than his lordship.
The day for payment being appointed, Sir Charles desired Mr. Henry Killegrew, and another gentleman to apply to his Majesty to have the fine remitted, which they undertook to do; but in place of supplicating for it, they represented Sir Charles's frolic rather in an aggravating light, and not a farthing was abated.
After this affair, Sir Charles's mind took a more serious turn, and he began to apply himself to the study of politics, by which he might be of some service to his country. He was chosen, says Wood, a recruiter of that long parliament, which began at Westminster the 8th of May 1661, to serve for New Romney in Kent, and sat in three succeeding Parliments since the dissolution of that.
Sir Charles, considered as an author, has great delicacy in his turns, and Eachard observes in his dedication of Plautus's three comedies to Sir Charles, that the easiness of his stile, the politeness of his expressions in his Bellamira, and even those parts of it which are purely translation, are very delightful, and engaging to the reader.
Lord Rochester, in his imitation of the 10th satire of the first book of
Horace, has the following verses in his commendation.
Sedley has that prevailing gentle art,
That can with a resistless charm impart.
The loosest wishes to the chastest heart:
Raise such a conflict, kindle such a fire,
Betwixt declining virtue and desire;
That the poor vanquish'd maid dissolves away
In dreams all night, in sighs and tears all day.
Before we give an account of our author's works, it will not be amiss to observe, that he was extremely active in effecting the revolution, which was thought the more extraordinary, as he had received favours from King James II. That Prince, it seems, had fallen in love with a daughter of Sir Charles's, who was not very handsome; for James was remarkable for dedicating his affections to women who were not great beauties; in consequence of his intrigue with her, and in order to give her greater lustre in life, he created Miss Sedley countess of Dorchester. This honour, so far from pleasing, greatly shocked Sir Charles. However libertine himself had been, yet he could not bear the thoughts of his daughter's dishonour; and with regard to this her exaltation, he only considered it as rendering her more conspicuously infamous. He therefore conceived a hatred to James, and readily joined to dispossess him of his throne and dominions.
Being asked one day, why he appeared so warm against the King, who had created his daughter a Countess? It is from a principle of gratitude I am so warm, returns Sir Charles; for since his Majesty has made my daughter a Countess, it is fit I should do all I can to make his daughter a Queen.
Our author's works are,
1. The Mulberry Garden, a Comedy, acted by his Majesty's servants at the theatre-royal 1668, dedicated to the duchess of Richmond and Lennox.
2. Anthony and Cleopatra, a Tragedy, acted at the Duke of York's theatre 1667. This play was acted with great applause. The Story from Plutarch's Life of Anthony.
3. Bellamira; or the Mistress, a Comedy, acted by his Majesty's servants, 1687. It is taken from Terence's Eunuch. While this play was acting, the roof of the play-house fell down, but very few were hurt, except the author: whose merry friend Sir Fleetwood Shepherd told him, that there was so much fire in the play, that it blew up the poet, house and all: Sir Charles answered, No, the play was so heavy it brought down the house, and buried the poet in his own rubbish.
4. Beauty the Conqueror; or the Death of Mark Anthony, a Tragedy.
Besides these plays, Mr. Coxeter says, he is author of the two following, which were never printed till with his works in 2 vols. 8vo. 1719, dedicated by Briscoe the bookseller to the duke of Chandois.
The Grumbler, a Comedy of three acts, scene Paris.
The Tyrant King of Crete, a Tragedy.
Sedley's poems, however amorously tender and delicate, yet have not much strength; nor do they afford great marks of genius. The softness of his verses is denominated by the Duke of Buckingham, Sedley's Witchcraft. It was an art too successful in those days to propagate the immoralities of the times, but it must be owned that in point of chastity he excels Dorset, and Rochester; who as they conceived lewdly, wrote in plain English, and did not give themselves any trouble to wrap up their ribbaldry in a dress tollerably decent. But if Sedley was the more chaste, I know not if he was the less pernicious writer: for that pill which is gilded will be swallowed more readily, and with less reluctance, than if tendered in its own disgustful colours. Sedley insinuates gently into the heart, without giving any alarm, but is no less fraught with poison, than are those whose deformity bespeaks their mischief.
It would be tedious to enumerate here all the poems of Sir Charles Sedley; let it suffice to say, that they are printed in two small volumes along with his plays, and consist of translations of Virgil's Pastorals, original Pastorals, Prologues, Songs, Epilogues, and little occasional pieces.
We shall present the reader with an original pastoral of Sir Charles's, as a specimen of his works.
He lived to the beginning of Queen Anne's reign, and died at an age near 90; his wit and humour continuing to the last.
A Pastoral Dialogue between THIRSIS and STREPHON.
THIRSIS.
Strephon, O Strephon, once the jolliest lad,
That with shrill pipe did ever mountain glad;
Whilome the foremost at our rural plays,
The pride and envy of our holidays:
Why dost thou sit now musing all alone,
Teaching the turtles, yet a sadder moan?
Swell'd with thy tears, why does the neighbouring brook
Bear to the ocean, what she never took?
Thy flocks are fair and fruitful, and no swain,
Than thee, more welcome to the hill or plain.
STREPHON.
I could invite the wolf, my cruel guest,
And play unmov'd, while he on all should feast:
I cou'd endure that very swain out-run,
Out-threw, out-wrestled, and each nymph shou'd shun
The hapless Strephon.——
THIRSIS.
Tell me then thy grief,
And give it, in complaints, some short relief.
STREPHON.
Had killing mildews nipt my rising corn,
My lambs been all found dead, as soon as born;
Or raging plagues run swift through every hive,
And left not one industrious bee alive;
Had early winds, with an hoarse winter's found
Scattered my rip'ning fruit upon the ground:
Unmov'd, untoucht, I cou'd the loss sustain,
And a few days expir'd, no more complain.
THIRSIS.
E'er the sun drank of the cold morning dew,
I've known thee early the tuskt boar pursue:
Then in the evening drive the bear away,
And rescue from his jaws the trembling prey.
But now thy flocks creep feebly through the fields,
No purple grapes, thy half-drest vineyards yields:
No primrose nor no violets grace thy beds,
But thorns and thistles lift their prickly heads.
What means this change?
STREPHON
Enquire no more;
When none can heal, 'tis pain to search the sore;
Bright Galatea, in whose matchless face
Sat rural innocence, with heavenly grace;
In whose no less inimitable mind,
With equal light, even distant virtues shin'd;
Chaste without pride, and charming without art,
Honour the tyrant of her tender heart:
Fair goddess of these fields, who for our sports,
Though she might well become, neglected courts:
Belov'd of all, and loving me alone,
Is from my sight, I fear, for ever gone.
THIRSIS.
Thy case indeed is pitiful, but yet
Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set.
Women like days are, Strephon, some be far
More bright and glorious than others are:
Yet none so gay, so temperate, so clear,
But that the like adorn the rowling year,
Pleasures imparted to a friend, increase,
Perhaps divided sorrow may grow less.
STREPHON.
Others as fair, to others eyes may seem,
But she has all my love and my esteem:
Her bright idea wanders in my thought,
At once my poison, and my antidote.
THIRSIS.
Our hearts are paper, beauty is the pen,
Which writes our loves, and blots 'em out agen.
Phillis is whiter than the rising swan,
Her slender waist confin'd within a span:
Charming as nature's face in the new spring,
When early birds on the green branches sing.
When rising herbs and buds begin to hide,
Their naked mother, with their short-liv'd pride,
Chloe is ripe, and as the autumn fair,
When on the elm the purple grapes appear,
When trees, hedge-rows, and every bending bush,
With rip'ning fruit, or tasteful berries blush,
Lydia is in the summer of her days,
What wood can shade us from her piercing rays?
Her even teeth, whiter than new yean'd lambs,
When they with tender cries pursue their dams.
Her eyes as charming as the evening sun,
To the scorch'd labourer when his work is done,
Whom the glad pipe, to rural sports invites,
And pays his toil with innocent delights.
On some of these fond swain fix thy desire,
And burn not with imaginary fire.
STREPHON.
The flag shall sooner with the eagle soar,
Seas leave their fishes naked on the shore;
The wolf shall sooner by the lamkin die,
And from the kid the hungry lion fly,
Than I abandon Galatea's love,
Or her dear image from my thoughts remove.
THIRSIS.
Damon this evening carries home his bride,
In all the harmless pomp of rural pride:
Where, for two spotted lambkins, newly yean'd,
With nimble feet and voice, the nymphs contend:
And for a coat, thy Galatea spun,
The Shepherds wrestle, throw the bar, and run.
STREPHON.
At that dear name I feel my heart rebound,
Like the old steed, at the fierce trumpet's sound;
I grow impatient of the least delay,
No bastard swain shall bear the prize away.
THIRSIS.
Let us make haste, already they are met;
The echoing hills their joyful shouts repeat.
* * * * *
JOHN CROWNE
Was the son of an independent minister, in that part of North America, which is called Nova Scotia. The vivacity of his genius made him soon grow impatient of the gloomy education he received in that country; which he therefore quitted in order to seek his fortune in England; but it was his fate, upon his first arrival here, to engage in an employment more formal, if possible, than his American education. Mr. Dennis, in his Letters, vol. i. p. 48, has given us the best account of this poet, and upon his authority the above, and the succeeding circumstances are related. His necessity, when he first arrived in England, was extremely urgent, and he was obliged to become a gentleman usher to an old independent lady; but he soon grew as weary of that precise office, as he had done before of the discipline of Nova Scotia. One would imagine that an education, such as this, would be but an indifferent preparative for a man to become a polite author, but such is the irresistable force of genius, that neither this, nor his poverty, which was very deplorable, could suppress his ambition: aspiring to reputation, and distinction, rather than to fortune and power. His writings soon made him known to the court and town, yet it was neither to the savour of the court, nor to that of the earl of Rochester, that he was indebted to the nomination the king made of him, for the writing the Masque of Calypso, but to the malice of that noble lord, who designed by that preference to mortify Mr. Dryden.
Upon the breaking out of the two parties, after the pretended discovery of the Popish plot, the favour he was in at court, and the gaiety of his temper, which inclined him to join with the fashion, engaged him to embrace the Tory party. About that time he wrote the City Politicks, in order to satirize and expose the Whigs: a comedy not without wit and spirit, and which has obtained the approbation of those of contrary principles, which is the highest evidence of merit; but after it was ready for the stage, he met with great embarrassments in getting it acted. Bennet lord Arlington (who was then lord chamberlain, was secretly in the cause of the Whigs, who were at that time potent in Parliament, in order to support himself against the power of lord treasurer Danby, who was his declared enemy) used all his authority to suppress it. One while it was prohibited on account of its being dangerous; another while it was laid aside upon pretence of its being flat and insipid; till Mr. Crowne, at last, was forced to have recourse to the King himself, and engage him to lay his absolute commands on the lord chamberlain to have it no longer delayed. This command he was pleased to give in his own person, for Charles II. loved comedy above all other amusements, except one which was both more expensive, and less innocent, and besides, had a very high opinion of Mr. Crowne's abilities. While he was thus in favour with the King and court, Mr. Dennis declares, he has more than once heard him say, that though he had a sincere affection for the King, he had yet a mortal hatred to the court. The promise of a sum of money made him sometimes appear there, to sollicit the payment of it, but as soon as he received the sum, he vanished, and for a long time never approached it.
It was at the latter end of King Charles's reign, that Mr. Crowne, tired with the fatigue of writing, shocked with the uncertainty of theatrical success, and desirous to shelter himself from the resentment of those numerous enemies he had made, by his City Politics, immediately addressed the King himself, and desired his Majesty to establish him in some office, that might be a security to him for life: the King answered, he should be provided for; but added, that he would first see another comedy. Mr. Crowne endeavouring to excuse himself, by telling the King he plotted slowly and awkwardly, his Majesty replied, that he would help him to a plot, and so put in his hand the Spanish Comedy called Non Poder Esser. Mr. Crowne was obliged immediately to go to work upon it, but after he had written three acts of it, found, to his surprize, that the Spanish play had some time before been translated, and acted and damned, under the title of Tarugo's Wiles, or the Coffee-House: yet, supported by the King's command, he went briskly on, and finished it.
Mr. Crowne, who had once before obliged the commonwealth of taste, with a very agreeable comedy in his City Politics, yet, in Sir Courtly Nice went far beyond it, and very much surpassed himself; for though there is something in the part of Crack, which borders upon farce, the Spanish author alone must answer for that: for Mr. Crowne could not omit the part of Crack, that is, of Tarugo, and the Spanish farce depending upon it, without a downright affront to the King, who had given him the play for his ground-work. All that is of English growth in Sir Courtly Nice is admirable; for though it has neither the fine designing of Ben Johnson, nor the masculine satire of Wycherley, nor the grace, delicacy, and courtly air of Etherege, yet is the dialogue lively and spirited, attractively diversified, and adapted to the several characters. Four of these characters are entirely new, yet general and important, drawn truly, and graphically and artfully opposed to each other, Surly to Sir Courtly, and Hot-head to Testimony: those extremes of behaviour, the one of which is the grievance, and the other the plague of society and conversation; excessive ceremony on the one side, and on the other rudeness, and brutality are finely exposed in Surly and Sir Courtly: those divisions and animosities in the two great parties of England, which have so long disturbed the public quiet, and undermined the general interest, are happily represented and ridiculed in Testimony and Hot-head. Mr. Dennis, speaking of this comedy, says, 'that though he has more than twenty times read it, yet it still grows upon him, and he delivers it as his opinion, that the greatest comic poet, who ever lived in any age, might have been proud to have been the author of it.'
The play was now just ready to appear to the world. Every one that had seen it rehearsed, was highly pleased with it. All who had heard of it conceived great expectations, and Mr. Crowne was delighted with the flattering hope of being made happy for the remaining part of his life, by the performance of the King's promise: But upon the very last day of the rehearsal, he met Underhill coming from the playhouse, as he himself was going towards it, upon which the poet reprimanding the player for neglecting so considerable a part as he had in the comedy, and on a day of so much consequence, as the very last of the rehearsal. Oh Lord, says Underhill, we are all undone! how! says Crowne, is the Playhouse on fire? the whole nation, replies the player, will quickly be so, for the King is dead; at the hearing of which dismal words, the author was thrown almost into distraction; for he who the moment before was ravished with the thought of the pleasure he was about to give the King, and the favours which he was afterwards to receive from him, this moment found, to his unspeakable sorrow, that his Royal patron was gone for ever, and with him all his hopes. The King indeed revived from this apoplectic fit, but three days after died, and Mr. Crowne by his death was replunged into the deepest melancholly.
Thus far Mr. Dennis has traced the life of Crowne; in the same letter he promises a further account of him upon another occasion, which, it seems, never occurred, for we have not been able to find that he has any where else mentioned our author.
The King's death having put a period to Mr. Crowne's expectations of court-favour (for the reign of his successor was too much hurried with party designs, to admit of any leisure to reward poetical merit, though the Prince himself, with all his errors about him, was a man of taste, and had a very quick discernment of the power of genius) he, no doubt, had recourse to writing plays again for bread, and supporting himself the best way he could by his wits, the most unpleasing, and precarious manner of life, to which any man can be exposed. We cannot be absolutely certain when Mr. Crowne died; Mr. Coxeter in his notes says, he was alive in the year 1703, and as he must then have been much advanced in years, in all probability he did not long survive it. He is the author of 17 Plays.
1. Juliana, or the Princess of Poland, a Tragi-Comedy; acted at the duke of York's theatre 1671, dedicated to the earl of Orrery.
2. Andromache, a Tragedy; acted at the duke's theatre in Covent Garden, 1675. This play was only a translation of M. Racine, by a young gentleman, chiefly in prose, and published by Mr. Crown. It was brought upon the stage, but without success.
3. Calisto, or the Chaste Nymph, a masque, 1675; written by command of the queen, and oftentimes performed at court by persons of quality. It is founded on a story in Ovid's Metamorphoses, lib. 2.
4. The Country Wit, a Comedy; acted at the duke's theatre 1675. This play contains a good deal of low humour; and was approved by king Charles the IId.
5. The Destruction of Jerusalem, by Titus Vespasian, in two parts, acted 1677; addressed to the duchess of Portsmouth. These Tragedies met with extravagant applause, which excited the envy of lord Rochester so much, that on this account he commenced an enemy to the bard he before had so much befriended.
6. The Ambitious Statesman, or the Royal Favourite, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal 1679. This play had but indifferent success, though esteemed by the author one of the best he ever wrote.
7. Charles the VIIIth King of France, or the Invasion of Naples by the French; this play is written in heroic verse.
8. Henry the VIth, the first part, with the murther of Humphrey duke of Gloucester; acted 1681, dedicated to Sir Charles Sedley. This play was at first acted with applause; but at length, the Romish faction opposed it, and by their interest at court got it suppressed. Part of this play was borrowed from Shakespear's Henry the VIth.
9. Henry the VIth, the second part; or the Miseries of Civil War; a Tragedy, acted 1680.
10. Thyestes, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal 1681. The plot from Seneca's Thyestes.
11. City Politics, a Comedy, 1683; of this already we have given some account.
12. Sir Courtly Nice, or It Cannot be; dedicated to the duke of Ormond, of which we have given an account in the author's life.
13. Darius King of Persia, a Tragedy; acted in 1688. For the plot, see Quint. Curt. lib. 3, 4, and 5.
14. The English Fryar, or the Town Sparks, a Comedy; printed in quarto 1690, dedicated to William earl of Devonshire. This play had not the success of the other pieces of the same author.
15. Regulus, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal 1694. The design of this play is noble; the example of Regulus being the most celebrated for honour, and constancy of any of the Romans. There is a play of this name, written by Mr. Havard, a comedian now belonging to the theatre-royal in Drury-lane.
16. The Married Beaux, or the Curious Impertinent, a Comedy; acted at the theatre-royal, 1694, dedicated to the marquis of Normanby. To this play the author has prefixed a preface in vindication of himself, from the aspersions cast on him by some persons, as to his morals. The story is taken from Don Quixot.
17. Caligula, Emperor of Rome, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal, 1698.
Our author's other works are, Pandion and Amphigenia, or the coy Lady of
Thessalia; adorned with sculptures, printed in octavo, 1665.
Dæneids, or the noble Labours of the great Dean of Notre-Dame in Paris, for the erecting in his choir, a Throne for his Glory; and the eclipsing the pride of an imperious usurping Chanter, an heroic poem, in four Canto's; printed in quarto 1692. It is a burlesque Poem, and is chiefly taken from Boileau's Lutrin.
We shall shew Mr. Crown's versification, by quoting a speech which he puts into the mouth of an Angel, in the Destruction of Jerusalem. The Angel is represented as descending over the altar prophesying the fall of that august city.
Stay, stay, your flight, fond men, Heaven does despise
All your vain incense, prayers, and sacrifice.
Now is arriv'd Jerusalem's fatal hour,
When she and sacrifice must be no more:
Long against Heav'n had'st thou, rebellious town,
Thy public trumpets of defiance blown;
Didst open wars against thy Lord maintain,
And all his messengers of peace have slain:
And now the hour of his revenge is come,
Thy weeks are finish'd, and thy slumb'ring doom,
Which long has laid in the divine decree,
Is now arous'd from his dull lethargy;
His army's rais'd, and his commission seal'd,
His order's given, and cannot be repeal'd:
And now thy people, temple, altars all
Must in one total dissolution fall.
Heav'n will in sad procession walk the round,
And level all thy buildings with the ground.
And from the soil enrich'd with human blood,
Shall grass spring up, where palaces have stood,
Where beasts shall seed; and a revenge obtain
For all the thousands at thy altars slain.
And this once blessed house, where Angels came
To bathe their airy wings in holy flame,
Like a swift vision or a flash of light,
All wrapt in fire shall vanish in thy sight;
And thrown aside amongst the common store,
Sink down in time's abyss, and rise no more.
* * * * *
CHARLES SACKVILLE, Earl of DORSET,
Eldest son of Richard earl of Dorset, born the 24th of January 1637, was one of the most accomplished gentlemen of the age in which he lived, which was esteemed one of the most courtly ever known in our nation; when, as Pope expresses it,
The soldiers ap'd the gallantries of France,
And ev'ry flow'ry courtier writ romance.
Immediately after the restoration, he was chosen member of parliament for East-Grimstead, and distinguished himself while he was in the House of Commons. The sprightliness of his wit, and a most exceeding good-nature, recommended him very early to the favour of Charles the IId, and those of the greatest distinction in the court; but his mind being more turned to books, and polite conversation, than public business, he totally declined the latter, tho' as bishop Burnet[1] says, the king courted him as a favorite. Prior in his dedication of his poems, observes, that when the honour and safety of his country demanded his assistance, he readily entered into the most active parts of life; and underwent the dangers with a constancy of mind, which shewed he had not only read the rules of philosophy, but understood the practice of them. He went a volunteer under his royal highness the duke of York in the first Dutch war, 1665, when the Dutch admiral Opdam was blown up, and about thirty capital ships taken and destroyed; and his composing a song before the engagement, carried with it in the opinion of many people to sedate a presence of mind, and such unusual gallantry, that it has been much celebrated.
This Song, upon so memorable an occasion, is comprised in the following stanzas.
I.
To all you ladies, now at land,
We men at sea indite,
But first would have you understand,
How hard it is to write;
The Muses now, and Neptune too,
We must implore to write to you,
With a fa, la, la, la, la.
II.
For tho' the Muses should prove kind,
And fill our empty brain;
Yet if rough Neptune rouze the wind,
To wave the azure main,
Our paper, pen and ink, and we,
Roll up and down our ships at sea,
With a la fa, &c.
III.
Then if we write not, by each post,
Think not, we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost,
By Dutchmen or by wind:
Our tears, we'll send a speedier way,
The tide shall waft them twice a day.
With a fa, &c.
IV.
The king with wonder, and surprize,
Will swear the seas grow bold;
Because the tides will higher rise,
Then e'er they did of old:
But let him knew it is our tears,
Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-Stairs.
With a fa, &c.
V.
Should foggy Opdam chance to know;
Our sad and dismal story;
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at Goree:
For what resistance can they find,
From men who've left their hearts behind.
With a fa, &c.
VI.
Let wind, and weather do its worst,
Be you to us but kind;
Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,
No sorrow we shall find;
'Tis then no matter, how things go,
Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.
With a fa, &c.
VII.
To pass our tedious hours away,
We throw a merry main;
Or else at serious Ombre play;
But why should we in vain
Each other's ruin thus pursue?
We were undone, when we left you.
With a fa, &c.
VIII.
But now our fears tempestuous grow,
And cast our hopes away;
Whilst you, regardless of our woe,
Sit carelessly at play;
Perhaps permit some happier man,
To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan.
With a fa, &c.
IX.
When any mournful tune, you hear,
That dies in every note;
And if it sigh'd with each man's care,
For being so remote;
Think then, how often love we've made
To you, when all those tunes were play'd.
With a fa, &c.
X.
In justice, you cannot refuse,
To think of our distress;
When we for hopes of honour lose,
Our certain happiness;
All those designs are but to prove,
Ourselves more worthy of your love.
With a fa, &c.
XI.
And, now we've told you all our loves,
And likewise all our fears;
In hopes this declaration moves,
Some pity for our tears:
Let's hear of no inconstancy,
We have too much of that at sea.
With a fa, &c.
To maintain an evenness of temper in the time of danger, is certainly the highest mark of heroism; but some of the graver cast have been apt to say, this sedate composure somewhat differs from that levity of disposition, or frolic humour, that inclines a man to write a song. But, let us consider my lord's fervour of youth, his gaiety of mind, supported by strong spirits, flowing from an honest heart, and, I believe, we shall rather be disposed to admire, than censure him on this occasion. Remember too, he was only a volunteer. The conduct of the battle depended not on him. He had only to shew his intrepidity and diligence, in executing the orders of his commander, when called on; as he had no plans of operation to take up his thoughts why not write a song? there was neither indecency, nor immorality in it: I doubt not, but with that chearfulness of mind he composed himself to rest, with as right feelings, and as proper an address to his maker, as any one of a more melancholly disposition, or gloomy aspect.
Most commanders, in the day of battle, assume at least a brilliancy of countenance, that may encourage their soldiers; and they are admired for it: to smile at terror has, before this, been allowed the mark of a hero. The dying Socrates discoursed his friends with great composure; he was a philosopher of a grave cast: Sir Thomas Moore (old enough to be my lord's father) jok'd, even on the scaffold; a strong instance of his heroism, and no contradiction to the rectitude of his mind. The verses the Emperor Adrian wrought on his death-bed (call them a song if you will) have been admired, and approved, by several great men; Mr. Pope has not only given his opinion in their favour, but elegantly translated them, nay, thought them worthy an imitation, perhaps exceeding the original. If this behaviour of my lord's is liable to different constructions, let good nature, and good manners, incline us to bestow the most favourable thereon.
After his fatigues at sea, during the remainder of the reign of Charles the IId, he continued to live in honourable leisure. He was of the bed-chamber to the king, and possessed not only his master's favour, but in a great degree his familiarity, never leaving the court but when he was sent to that of France, upon some short commission, and embassies of compliment; as if the king designed to rival the French in the article of politeness, who had long claimed a superiority in that accomplishment, by shewing them that one of the most finished gentlemen in Europe was his subject; and that he understood his worth so well, as not to suffer him to be long out of his presence. Among other commissions he was sent in the year 1669, to compliment the French king on his arrival at Dunkirk, in return of the compliment of that monarch, by the duchess of Orleans, then in England.
Being possessed of the estate of his uncle the earl of Middlesex, who died in the year 1674, he was created earl of that county, and baron of Cranfield, by letters patent, dated the fourth of April, 1675. 27 C. II; and in August 1677 succeeded his father as earl of Dorset; as also, in the post of lord lieutenant of the county of Sussex, having been joined in the commission with him in 1670[2]. Also the 20th of February 1684 he was made custos rotulorum for that county.
Having buried his first lady, Elizabeth, daughter of Harvey Bagot, of Whitehall in the county of Warwick, Esq; widow of Charles Berkley, earl of Falmouth, without any issue by her, he married, in the year 1684, the lady Mary, daughter of James Compton, earl of Northampton, famed for her beauty, and admirable endowments of mind, who was one of the ladies of the bed-chamber to Queen Mary, and left his lordship again a widower, August 6, 1691, leaving issue by him one son, his grace Lionel now duke of Dorset, and a daughter, the lady Mary, married in the year 1702 to Henry Somerset duke of Beaufort, and dying in child-bed, left no issue.
The earl of Dorset appeared in court at the trial of the seven bishops, accompanied with other noblemen, which had a good effect on the jury, and brought the judges to a better temper than they had usually shewn. He also engaged with those who were in the prince of Orange's interest; and carried on his part of that enterprize in London, under the eye of the court, with the same courage and resolution as his friend the duke of Devonshire did in open arms, at Nottingham. When prince George of Denmark deserted King James, and joined the prince of Orange, the princess Anne was in violent apprehensions of the King's displeasure, and being desirous of withdrawing herself, lord Dorset was thought the properest guide for her necessary flight[3]. She was secretly brought to him by his lady's uncle, the bishop of London: who furnished the princess with every thing necessary for her flight to the Prince of Orange, and attended her northward, as far as Northampton, where he quickly brought a body of horse to serve for her guard, and went from thence to Nottingham, to confer with the duke of Devonshire. After the misguided monarch had withdrawn himself, lord Dorset continued at London, and was one of those peers who sat every day in the Council-chamber, and took upon them the government of the realm, in this extremity, till some other power should be introduced. In the debates in Parliament immediately after this confusion, his lordship voted for the vacancy of the throne, and that the prince and princess of Orange should be declared King and Queen of England, &c. When their Majesties had accepted the crown of these realms, his lordship was the next day sworn of the privy-council, and declared lord chamberlain of the household, 'A place, says Prior, which he eminently adorned by the grace of his person, the fineness of his breeding, and the knowledge and practice of what was decent and magnificent.' It appears by the history of England, that he had the honour to stand godfather, with King William to a son of the prince and princess of Denmark, born at Hampton-court, the 24th of July 1689, and christened the 27th by the name of William, whom his Majesty declared duke of Gloucester. When the King had been earnestly entreated by the States of Holland, and the confederate princes in Germany, to meet at a general congress to be held at the Hague, in order to concert matters for the better support of the confederacy, and thereupon took shipping the 16th of January 1692, his lordship was among the peers, who to honour their King and Country, waited on their sovereign in that cold season. When they were two or three leagues off Goree, his Majesty having by bad weather been four days at sea, was so impatient to go on shore, that taking boat, and a thick fog rising soon after, they were surrounded so closely with ice, as not to be able either to make the shore, or get back to the ship; so that lying twenty-two hours, enduring the most bitter cold, and almost despairing of life, they could hardly stand or speak at their landing; and his lordship was so lame, that for some time he did not recover; yet on his return to England, he neither complained of the accident nor the expence.
On the 2d of February 1691, at a chapter of the most noble order of the garter, held at Kensington, his lordship was elected one of the knights companions of this order, with his highness John-George, the fourth elector of Saxony, and was installed at Windsor on the February following. He was constituted four times one of the regents of the kingdom in his Majesty's absence. About the year 1698, his health sensibly declining, he left public business to those who more delighted in it, and appeared only sometimes at council, to shew his respect to the commission which he bore, for he had already tasted all the comfort which court favour could bestow; he had been high in office, respected by his sovereign and the idol of the people; but now when the evening of life approached, he began to look upon such enjoyments with less veneration, and thought proper to dedicate some of his last hours to quiet and meditation. Being advised to go to Bath for the recovery of his health, he there ended his life on the 29th of January 1705-6, and was buried at Witham on the 17th of February following.
Lord Dorset was a great patron of men of letters and merit. Dr. Sprat, bishop of Rochester, celebrated for his polite writings, appealed to him when under a cloud, for the part he acted in the reign of King James II. and by his lordship's interest preserved himself. To him Mr. Dryden dedicated his translation of Juvenal, in which he is very lavish in his lordship's praise, and expresses his gratitude for the bounty he had experienced from him.
Mr. Prior (among others who owed their life and fortune to my lord Dorset) makes this public acknowledgment, 'That he scarce knew what life was, sooner than he found himself obliged to his favour; or had reason to feel any sorrow so sensibly as that of his death.' Mr. Prior then proceeds to enumerate the valuable qualities of his patron; in which the warmth of his gratitude appears in the most elegant panegyric. I cannot imagine that Mr. Prior, with respect to his lordship's morals, has in the least violated truth; for he has shewn the picture in various lights, and has hinted at his patron's errors, as well as his graces and virtues. Among his errors was that of indulging passion, which carried him into transports, of which he was often ashamed; and during these little excesses (says he) 'I have known his servants get into his way, that they might make a merit of it immediately after; for he who had the good fortune to be chid, was sure of being rewarded for it.'
His lordship's poetical works have been published among the minor poets 1749, and consist chiefly of a poem to Mr. Edward Howard, on his incomprehensible poem called the British Princes, in which his lordship is very satyrical upon that author.
Verses to Sir Thomas St. Serfe, on his printing his play called Tarugo's
Wiles, acted 1668.
An Epilogue to Moliere's Tartuff.
An epilogue on the revival of Ben Johnson's play called Every Man in his
Humour.
A Song writ at Sea, in the time of the Dutch war 1665, the night before an engagement.
Verses addressed to the Countess of Dorchester.
A Satirical piece, entitled, A Faithful Catalogue of our most eminent
Ninnies; written in the year 1683.
Several Songs.
From the specimens lord Dorset has given us of his poetical talents, we are inclined to wish, that affairs of higher consequence had permitted him to have dedicated more of his time to the Muses. Though some critics may alledge, that what he has given the public is rather pretty than great; and that a few pieces of a light nature do not sufficiently entitle him to the character of a first rate poet; yet, when we consider, that notwithstanding they were merely the amusement of his leisure hours, and mostly the productions of his youth, they contain marks of a genius, and as such, he is celebrated by Dryden, Prior, Congreve, Pope, &c.
We shall conclude his life with the encomium Pope bestows on him, in the following beautiful lines.
Dorset, the grace of courts, the muses pride,
Patron of arts, and judge of nature, dy'd:
The scourge of pride, the sanctify'd or great,
Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state.
Yet soft his nature, tho severe his lay,
His anger moral, and his wisdom gay.
Blest satyrist, who touch'd the mean so true,
As shew'd vice had his hate and pity too.
Blest courtier! who could King and Country please,
Yet sacred keep his friendship, and his ease.
Blest peer! his great forefathers ev'ry grace
Reflecting, and reflected in his race;
Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets thine.
And patriots still, or poets deck the line
[Footnote 1: History of his own times; p. 264.]
[Footnote 2: Collin's Peerage, p. 575. vol. I.]
[Footnote 3: Burnet's Hist. of his own times.]
* * * * *
Mr. GEORGE FARQUHAR
Was descended of a Family of no mean rank in the North of Ireland; we have been informed that his father was dean of Armagh, but we have not met with a proper confirmation of this circumstance; but it is on all hands agreed, that he was the son of a clergyman, and born at London-Derry in that kingdom, in the year 1678, as appears from Sir James Ware's account of him. There he received the rudiments of education, and discovered a genius early devoted to the Muses; Before he was ten years of age he gave specimens of his poetry, in which, force of thinking, and elegance of turn and expression are manifest; and if the author, who has wrote Memoirs of his life, may be credited, the following stanza's were written by him at that age,
The pliant soul of erring youth,
Is like soft wax, or moisten'd clay;
Apt to receive all heavenly truth
Or yield to tyrant ill the sway.
Slight folly in your early years,
At manhood may to virtue rise;
But he who in his youth appears
A fool, in age will ne'er be wise.
His parents, it is said, had a numerous family, so could bestow no fortune upon him, further than a genteel education. When he was qualified for the university, he was, in 1694, sent to Trinity College in Dublin: here, by the progress he made in his studies, he acquired a considerable reputation[1], but it does not appear, that he there took his degree of bachelor of arts; for his disposition being volatile and giddy, he soon grew weary of a dull collegiate life; and his own opinion of it, in that sense, he afterwards freely enough displayed in several parts of his comedies, and other writings. Besides, the expence of it, without any immediate prospect of returns, might be inconsistent with his circumstances. The polite entertainments of the town more forcibly attracted his attention, especially the diversions of the Theatre, for which, he discovered a violent propension. When Mr. Ashbury, who then was manager of Dublin Theatre, had recruited his company with the celebrated Mr. Wilks (who had for some seasons engaged with Mr. Christopher Rich at Drury-Lane, from whom his encouragement was not equal to his merit) Farquhar having acquaintance with him, Mr. Wilks, was soon introduced upon the stage by his means, where he did not long continue, nor make any considerable figure. His person was sufficiently advantageous, he had a ready memory, proper gesture, and just elocution, but then he was unhappy in his voice, which had not power enough to rouse the galleries, or to rant with any success; besides, he was defective in point of assurance, nor could ever enough overcome his natural timidity. His more excellent talents however might, perhaps, have continued the player at Dublin, and lost the poet at London; but for an accident, which was likely to turn a feigned tragedy into a real one: The story is this.
Mr. Farquhar was extremely beloved in Ireland; having the advantage of a good person, though his voice was weak; he never met with the least repulse from the audience in any of his performances: He therefore resolved to continue on the stage till something better should offer, but his resolution was soon broke by an accident. Being to play the part of Guyomar in Dryden's Indian Emperor, who kills Vasquez, one of the Spanish generals; and forgetting to exchange his sword for a foil, in the engagement he wounded his brother tragedian, who acted Vasquez, very dangerously; and though it proved not mortal, yet it so shocked the natural tenderness of Mr. Farquhar's temper, that it put a period to his acting ever after.
Soon after this, Mr. Wilks received from Mr. Rich a proposal of four pounds a week, if he would return to London (such was the extent of the salaries of the best players in that time, which, in our days, is not equal to that of a second rate performer) which he thought proper to accept of; and Mr. Farquhar, who now had no inducement to remain at Dublin, accompanied Mr. Wilks to London, in the year 1696. Mr. Wilks, who was well acquainted with the humour and abilities of our author, ceased not his solicitation 'till he prevailed upon him to write a play, assuring him, that he was considered by all who knew him in a much brighter light than he had as yet shewn himself, and that he was fitter to exhibit entertaining compositions for the stage, than to echo those of other poets upon it.
But he received still higher encouragement by the patronage of the earl of Orrery, who was a discerner of merit, and saw, that as yet, Mr. Farquhar's went unrewarded. His lordship conferred a lieutenant's commission upon him in his own regiment then in Ireland, which he held several years[2] and, as an officer, he behaved himself without reproach, and gave several instances both of courage and conduct: Whether he received his commission before or after he obliged the town with his first comedy, we cannot be certain.
In the year 1698, his first Comedy called Love and a Bottle appeared on the stage, and for its sprightly dialogue, and busy scenes was well received by the audience, though Wilks had no part in it. In 1699 the celebrated Mrs. Anne Oldfield was, partly upon his judgment, and recommendation, admitted on the Theatre.
Now we have mentioned Mrs. Oldfield, we shall present the reader with the following anecdote concerning that celebrated actress, which discovers the true manner of her coming on the stage; the account we have from a person who belonged to Mr. Rich, in a letter he wrote to the editor of Mrs. Oldfield's Life, in which it is printed in these words;
SIR,
In your Memoirs of Mrs. Oldfield, it may not be amiss to insert the following facts, on the truth of which you may depend. Her father, captain Oldfield, not only run out all the military, but the paternal bounds of his fortune, having a pretty estate in houses in Pall-mall. It was wholly owing to captain Farquhar, that Mrs. Oldfield became an actress, from the following incident; dining one day at her aunt's, who kept the Mitre Tavern in St. James's Market, he heard miss Nanny reading a play behind the bar, with so proper an emphasis, and so agreeable turns suitable to each character, that he swore the girl was cut out for the stage, for which she had before always expressed an inclination, being very desirous to try her fortune that way. Her mother, the next time she saw captain Vanburgh, who had a great respect for the family, told him what was captain Farquhar's opinion; upon which he desired to know whether in the plays she read, her fancy was most pleased with tragedy or comedy; miss being called in, said comedy, she having at that time gone through all Beaumont and Fletcher's comedies, and the play she was reading when captain Farquhar dined there, was the Scornful Lady. Captain Vanburgh, shortly after, recommended her to Mr. Christopher Rich, who took her into the house at the allowance of fifteen shillings a week. However, her agreeable figure, and sweetness of voice, soon gave her the preference, in the opinion of the whole town, to all our young actresses, and his grace the late duke of Bedford, being pleased to speak, to Mr. Rich in her favour, he instantly raised her allowance to twenty shillings a week; her fame and salary at last rose to her just merit,
Your humble servant,
Nov. 25, 1730[3].
CHARLES TAYLOUR.'
In the beginning of the year 1700, Farquhar brought his Constant Couple, or Trip to the Jubilee, upon the stage, it being then the jubilee year at Rome; but our author drew so gay, and airy a figure in Sir Harry Wildair, so suited to Mr. Wilks's talents, and so animated by his gesture, and vivacity of spirit, that it is not determined whether the poet or the player received most reputation by it. Towards the latter end of this year we meet with Mr. Farquhar in Holland, probably upon his military duty, from whence he has given a description in two of his letters dated that year from Brill, and from Leyden, no less true than humorous, as well of those places as the people; and in a third, dated from the Hague he very facetiously relates how merry he was there, at a treat made by the earl of Westmoreland, while, not only himself, but king William, and other of his subjects were detained there by a violent storm, which he has no less humorously described, and has, among his poems, written also an ingenious copy of verses to his mistress on the same subject. Whether this mistress was the same person he calls his charming Penelope, in several of his love letters addressed to her, we know not, but we have been informed by an old officer in the army, who well knew Mr. Farquhar, that by that name we are to understand Mrs. Oldfield, and that the person meant by Mrs. V—— in one of them, said to be her bedfellow, was Mrs. Verbruggen the actress, the same who was some years before Mrs. Mountfort, whom Mrs. Oldfield succeeded, (when Mrs. V—— died some years after in child-bed) with singular commendation, in her principal parts; and from so bright a flame it was no wonder that Farquhar was more than ordinarily heated. The author of Mrs. Oldfield's life says, that she has often heard her mention some agreeable hours she spent with captain Farquhar: As she was a lady of true delicacy, nor meanly prostituted herself to every adorer, it would be highly ungenerous to suppose, that their hours ever passed in criminal freedoms. And 'tis well known, whatever were her failings, she wronged no man's wife; nor had an husband to injure.
Mr. Farquhar, encouraged by the success of his last piece, made a continuation of it in 1701, and brought on his Sir Harry Wildair; in which Mrs. Oldfield received as much reputation, and was as greatly admired in her part, as Wilks was in his.
In the next year he published his Miscellanies, or Collection of Poems, Letters, and Essays, already mentioned, and which contain a variety of humorous, and pleasant sallies of fancy: There is amongst them a copy of verses addressed to his dear Penelope, upon her wearing her Masque the evening before, which was a female fashion in those days, as well at public walks, as among the spectators at the Playhouse. These verses naturally display his temper and talents, and will afford a very clear idea of them; and therefore we shall here insert them.
'The arguments you made use of last night for keeping on your masque, I endeavoured to defeat with reason, but that proving ineffectual, I'll try the force of rhyme, and send you the heads of our chat, in a poetical dialogue between You and I.'
You.
Thus images are veil'd which you adore;
Your ignorance does raise your zeal the more.
I.
All image worship for false zeal is held;
False idols ought indeed to be conceal'd.
You.
Thus oracles of old were still receiv'd;
The more ambiguous, still the more believ'd.
I.
But oracles of old were seldom true,
The devil was in them, sure he's not in you.
You.
Thus mask'd in mysteries does the godhead stand:
The more obscure, the greater his command.
I.
The Godhead's hidden power would soon be past,
Did we not hope to see his face at last.
You.
You are my slave already sir, you know,
To Shew more charms, would but increase your
woe,
I scorn an insult to a conquer'd foe.
I.
I am your slave, 'tis true, but still you see,
All slaves by nature struggle to be free;
But if you would secure the stubborn prize,
Add to your wit, the setters of your eyes;
Then pleas'd with thraldom, would I kiss my
chain
And ne'er think more of liberty again.[4]
It is said, some of the letters of which we have been speaking, were published from the copies returned him at his request, by Mrs. Oldfield, and that she delighted to read them many years after they were printed, as she also did the judicious essay at the end of them, which is called a Discourse upon Comedy, in Reference to the English Stage; but what gives a yet more natural and lively representation of our author still, is one among those letters, which he calls the Picture, containing a description and character of himself, which we should not now omit transcribing, if his works were not in every body's hands.
In 1703 came out another Comedy, entitled the Inconstant, or the Way to Win Him, which had sufficient merit to have procured equal success to the rest; but for the inundation of Italian, French, and other farcical interruptions, which, through the interest of some, and the depraved taste of others, broke in upon the stage like a torrent, and swept down before thorn all taste for competitions of a more intrinsic excellence. These foreign monsters obtained partisans amongst our own countrymen, in opposition to English humour, genuine wit, and the sublime efforts of genius, and substituted in their room the airy entertainments of dancing and singing, which conveyed no instruction, awakened no generous passion, nor filled the breast with any thing great or manly. Such was the prevalence of these airy nothings, that our author's comedy was neglected for them, and the tragedy of Phædra slid Hippolitus, which for poetry is equal to any in our tongue, (and though Mr. Addison wrote the prologue, and Prior the epilogue) was suffered to languish, while multitudes flocked to hear the warblings of foreign eunuchs, whose highest excellence, as Young expresses it, was,