[39] "He is the very Withers of the city," says Dryden of Wild; "they
have bought more editions of his works than would serve to lay under all
their pies at the lord mayor's Christmas. When his famous poem first
came out in the year 1660, I have seen them reading it in the midst of
change time; nay, so vehement they were at it, that they lost their
bargain by the candles' ends; but what will you say, if he has been
received amongst great persons? I can assure you he is this day the envy
of one who is lord in the art of quibbling, and who does not take it
well, that any man should intrude so far into his province."--Vol. xv.

[40] [It may be well to note that "Gondibert" was published in 1651, ten
years before the Restoration. This does not affect the general accuracy
of Scott's remarks as to Davenant's poetical position and his influence
on Dryden, but the reader might draw a mistaken inference from those
remarks as to the date of the poem.--ED.]

[41] "The Duke of Monmouth returned on Saturday from New-Market. To-day
I waited on him, and first presented him with your letter, which he read
all over very attentively; and then prayed me to assure you, that he
would, upon all occasions, be most ready to give you the marks of his
affection, and assist you in any affairs you should recommend to him. I
then delivered him the six broad pieces, telling him, that I was deputed
to blush on your behalf for the meanness of the present, etc.; but he
took me off, and said he thanked you for it, and accepted it as a token
of your kindness. He had, before I came in, as I was told, considered
what to do with the gold; and but that I by all means prevented the
offer, or I had been in danger of being reimbursed with it."--ANDREW
MARVELL'S _Works_, vol. i. p. 210; _Letter to the Mayor of Hull_.

[42] From Driden to Dryden.

[43] Shadwell makes Dryden say, that after some years spent at the
university, he came to London. "At first I struggled with a great deal
of persecution, took up with a lodging which had a window no bigger than
a pocket looking-glass, dined at a three-penny ordinary enough to starve
a vacation tailor, kept little company, went clad in homely drugget, and
drunk wine as seldom as a rechabite, or the grand seignior's confessor."
The old gentleman, who corresponded with the "Gentleman's Magazine," and
remembered Dryden before the rise of his fortunes, mentions his suit of
plain drugget, being, by the bye, the same garb in which he has clothed
Flecnoe, who "coarsely clad in Norwich drugget came."

[44] [Scott, by an evident slip, "Berkeley."--ED.]

[45] [Scott, "Cropley."--ED.]

[46] [This is a mistake. See "Amboyna."--ED.]

[47] Davenant alleges the advantages of a respite and pause between
every stanza, which should be so constructed as to comprehend a period;
and adds, "nor doth alternate rhyme, by any lowliness of cadence, make
the sound less heroic, but rather adapt it to a plain and stately
composing of music; and the brevity of the stanza renders it less subtle
to the composer, and more easy to the singer, which, in _stilo
recitativo_, when the story is long, is chiefly requisite."--_Preface
to Gondibert._




SECTION II.


_Revival of the Drama at the Restoration--Heroic Plays--Comedies of
Intrigue--Commencement of Dryden's Dramatic Career--The Wild Gallant--
Rival Ladies--Indian Queen and Emperor--Dryden's Marriage--Essay on
Dramatic Poetry, and subsequent Controversy with Sir Robert Howard--The
Maiden Queen--The Tempest--Sir Martin Mar-all--The Mock Astrologer--The
Royal Martyr--The Two Parts of the Conquest of Granada--Dryden's
Situation at this Period._

It would appear that Dryden, at the period of the Restoration, renounced
all views of making his way in life except by exertion of the literary
talents with which he was so eminently endowed. His becoming a writer of
plays was a necessary consequence; for the theatres, newly opened after
so long silence, were resorted to with all the ardour inspired by
novelty; and dramatic composition was the only line which promised
something like an adequate reward to the professors of literature. In
our sketch of the taste of the seventeenth century previous to the
Restoration, this topic was intentionally postponed.

In the times of James I. and of his successor, the theatre retained, in
some degree, the splendour with which the excellent writers of the
virgin reign had adorned it. It is true, that authors of the latter
period fell far below those gigantic poets, who flourished in the end of
the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries; but what the
stage had lost in dramatic composition, was, in some degree, supplied by
the increasing splendour of decoration, and the favour of the court. A
private theatre, called the Cockpit, was maintained at Whitehall, in
which plays were performed before the court; and the king's company of
actors often received command to attend the royal progresses.[1]
Masques, a species of representation calculated exclusively for the
recreation of the great, in whose halls they were exhibited, were an
usual entertainment of Charles and his consort. The machinery and
decorations were often superintended by Inigo Jones, and the poetry
composed by Ben Jonson the laureate. Even Milton deigned to contribute
one of his most fascinating poems to the service of the drama; and,
notwithstanding the severity of his puritanic tenets, "Comus" could only
have been composed by one who felt the full enchantment of the theatre.
But all this splendour vanished at the approach of civil war. The stage
and court were almost as closely united in their fate as royalty and
episcopacy, had the same enemies, the same defenders, and shared the
same overwhelming ruin. "No throne no theatre," seemed as just a dogma
as the famous "No king no bishop." The puritans indeed commenced their
attack against royalty in this very quarter; and, while they impugned
the political exertions of prerogative, they assailed the private
character of the monarch and his consort, for the encouragement given to
the profane stage, that rock of offence, and stumbling-block to the
godly. Accordingly, the superiority of the republicans was no sooner
decisive, than the theatres were closed, and the dramatic poets
silenced. No department of poetry was accounted lawful; but the drama
being altogether unhallowed and abominable, its professors were
persecuted, while others escaped with censure from the pulpit, and
contempt from the rulers. The miserable shifts to which the surviving
actors were reduced during the commonwealth, have been often detailed.
At times they were connived at by the caprice or indolence of their
persecutors; but, in general, so soon as they had acquired any slender
stock of properties, they were beaten, imprisoned, and stripped, at the
pleasure of the soldiery.[2]

The Restoration naturally brought with it a revived taste for those
elegant amusements, which, during the usurpation, had been condemned as
heathenish, or punished as appertaining especially to the favourers of
royalty. To frequent them, therefore, became a badge of loyalty, and a
virtual disavowal of those puritanic tenets which all now agreed in
condemning. The taste of the restored monarch also was decidedly in
favour of the drama. At the foreign courts, which it had been his lot to
visit, the theatre was the chief entertainment; and as amusement was
always his principal pursuit, it cannot be doubted that he often sought
it there. The interest, therefore, which the monarch took in the
restoration of the stage, was direct and personal. Had it not been for
this circumstance, it seems probable that the general audience, for a
time at least, would have demanded a revival of those pieces which had
been most successful before the civil wars; and that Shakespeare,
Massinger, and Fletcher, would have resumed their acknowledged
superiority upon the English stage. But as the theatres were
re-established and cherished by the immediate influence of the
sovereign, and of the court which returned with him from exile, a taste
formed during their residence abroad dictated the nature of
entertainments which were to be presented to them. It is worthy of
remark, that Charles took the models of the two grand departments of the
drama from two different countries.

France afforded the pattern of those tragedies which continued in
fashion for twenty years after the Restoration, and which were called
Rhyming or Heroic Plays. In that country, however, contrary to the
general manners of the people, a sort of stately and precise ceremonial
early took possession of the theatre. The French dramatist was under the
necessity of considering less the situation of the persons of the drama,
than that of the performers who were to represent it before a monarch
and his court. It was not, therefore, sufficient for the author to
consider how human beings would naturally express themselves in the
predicament of the scene; he had the more embarrassing task of so
modifying their expressions of passion and feeling, that they might not
exceed the decorum necessary in the august presence of the _grand
monarque_. A more effectual mode of freezing the dialogue of the drama
could hardly have been devised, than by introducing into the theatre the
etiquette of the drawing-room. That etiquette also, during the reign of
Louis XIV., was of a kind peculiarly forced and unnatural The romances
of CalprenГЁde and ScudГ©ry, those ponderous and unmerciful folios now
consigned to utter oblivion, were in that reign not only universally
read and admired, but supposed to furnish the most perfect models of
gallantry and heroism; although, in the words of an elegant female
author, these celebrated writings are justly described as containing
only "unnatural representations of the passions, false sentiments, false
precepts, false wit, false honour, and false modesty, with a strange
heap of improbable, unnatural incidents, mixed up with true history, and
fastened upon some of the great names of antiquity."[3] Yet upon the
model of such works were framed the court manners of the reign of Louis,
and, in imitation of them, the French tragedy, in which every king was
by prescriptive right a hero, every female a goddess, every tyrant a
fire-breathing chimera, and every soldier an irresistible Amadis; in
which, when perfected, we find lofty sentiments, splendid imagery,
eloquent expression, sound morality, everything but the language of
human passion and human character. In the hands of Corneille, and still
more in those of Racine, much of the absurdity of the original model was
cleared away, and much that was valuable substituted in its stead; but
the plan being fundamentally wrong, the high talents of these authors
unfortunately only tended to reconcile their countrymen to a style of
writing which must otherwise have fallen into contempt. Such as it was,
it rose into high favour at the court of Louis XIV., and was by Charles
introduced upon the English stage. "The favour which heroic plays have
lately found upon our theatres," says our author himself, "have been
wholly derived to them from the countenance and approbation they have
received at court."[4]

The French comedy, although MoliГЁre was in the zenith of his reputation,
appears not to have possessed equal charms for the English monarch. The
same restraint of decorum, which prevented the expression of natural
passion in tragedy, prohibited all indelicate licence in comedy.
Charles, probably, was secretly pleased with a system, which cramped the
effusions of the tragic muse, and forbade, as indecorous, those bursts
of rapturous enthusiasm, which might sometimes contain matter unpleasing
to a royal ear.[5] But the merry monarch saw no good reason why the muse
of comedy should be compelled to "dwell in decencies for ever," and did
not feel at all degraded when enjoying a gross pleasantry, or profane
witticism, in company with the mixed mass of a popular audience. The
stage, therefore, resumed more than its original licence under his
auspices. Most of our early plays, being written in a coarse age, and
designed for the amusement of a promiscuous and vulgar audience, were
dishonoured by scenes of coarse and naked indelicacy. The positive
enactments of James, and the grave manners of his son, in some degree
repressed this disgraceful scurrility; and, in the common course of
events, the English stage would have been gradually delivered from this
reproach by the increasing influence of decency and taste.[6] But
Charles II., during his exile, had lived upon a footing of equality with
his banished nobles, and partaken freely and promiscuously in the
pleasure and frolics by which they had endeavoured to sweeten adversity.
To such a court the amusements of the drama would have appeared insipid,
unless seasoned with the libertine spirit which governed their lives,
and which was encouraged by the example of the monarch. Thus it is
acutely argued by Dennis, in reply to Collier, that the depravity of the
theatre, when revived, was owing to that very suppression, which had
prevented its gradual reformation. And just so a muddy stream, if
allowed its free course, will gradually purify itself; but, if dammed up
for a season, and let loose at once, its first torrent cannot fail to be
impregnated with every impurity. The licence of a rude age was thus
revived by a corrupted one; and even those plays which were translated
from the French and Spanish, were carefully seasoned with as much
indelicacy, and double entendre, as was necessary to fit them for the
ear of the wittiest and most profligate of monarchs.

Another remarkable feature in the comedies which succeeded the
Restoration is the structure of their plot, which was not, like that of
the tragedies, formed upon the Parisian model. The English audience had
not patience for the regular comedy of their neighbours, depending upon
delicate turns of expression, and nicer delineation of character. The
Spanish comedy, with its bustle, machinery, disguise, and complicated
intrigue, was much more agreeable to their taste. This preference did
not arise entirely from what the French term the phlegm of our national
character, which cannot be affected but by powerful stimulants. It is
indeed certain, that an Englishman expects his eye, as well as his ear,
to be diverted by theatrical exhibition; but the thirst of novelty was
another and separate reason which affected the style of the revived
drama. The number of new plays represented every season was incredible;
and the authors were compelled to have recourse to that mode of
composition which was most easily executed. Laboured accuracy of
expression, and fine traits of character, joined to an arrangement of
action, which should be at once pleasing, interesting, and probable,
require sedulous study, deep reflection, and long and repeated
correction and revision. But these were not to be expected from a
playwright, by whom three dramas were to be produced in one season; and
in their place were substituted adventures surprises, rencounters,
mistakes, disguises, and escapes, all easily accomplished by the
intervention of sliding panels, closets, veils, masks, large cloaks, and
dark lanthorns. If the dramatist was at a loss for employing these
convenient implements, the fifteen hundred plays of Lope de Vega were at
hand for his instruction; presenting that rapid succession of events,
and those sudden changes in the situation of the personages, which,
according to the noble biographer of the Spanish dramatist, are the
charms by which he interests us so forcibly in his plots.[7] These
Spanish plays had already been resorted to by the authors of the earlier
part of the century. But under the auspices of Charles II., who must
often have witnessed the originals while abroad, and in some instances
by his express command, translations were executed of the best and most
lively Spanish comedies.[8]

The favourite comedies therefore, after the Restoration, were such as
depended rather upon the intricacy than the probability of the plot;
rather upon the vivacity and liveliness, than on the natural expression
of the dialogue; and, finally, rather upon extravagant and grotesque
conception of character, than upon its being pointedly delineated, and
accurately supported through the representation. These particulars, in
which the comedies of Charles the Second's reign differ from the example
set by Shakespeare, Massinger and Beaumont and Fletcher, seem to have
been derived from the Spanish model. But the taste of the age was too
cultivated to follow the stage of Madrid, in introducing, or, to speak
more accurately, in reviving, the character of the _gracioso_, or clown,
upon that of London.[9] Something of foreign manners may be traced in
the licence assumed by valets and domestics in the English comedy; a
freedom which at no time made a part of our national manners, though
something like it may still be traced upon the Continent. These seem to
be the leading characteristics of the comedies of Charles the Second's
reign, in which the rules of the ancients were totally disregarded. It
were to be wished that the authors could have been exculpated from an
heavier charge,--that of assisting to corrupt the nation, by nourishing
and fomenting their evil passions, as well as by indulging and pandering
to their vices.

The theatres, after the Restoration, were limited to two in number; a
restriction perhaps necessary, as the exclusive patent expresses it, in
regard of the extraordinary licentiousness then used in dramatic
representation; but for which no very good reason can be shown, when
they are at least harmless, if not laudable places of amusement. One of
these privileged theatres was placed under the direction of Sir William
Davenant, whose sufferings in the royal cause merited a provision, and
whose taste and talents had been directed towards the drama even during
its proscription. He is said to have introduced moveable scenes upon the
English stage; and, without entering into the dispute of how closely
this is to be interpreted, we are certain that he added much to its
splendour and decoration. His set of performers, which contained the
famous Betterton, and others of great merit, was called the Duke's
Company. The other licensed theatre was placed under the direction of
Thomas Killigrew, much famed by tradition for his colloquial wit, but
the merit of whose good things evaporated so soon as he attempted to
interweave them with comedy.[10] His performers formed what was entitled
the King's Company. With this last theatre Dryden particularly connected
himself, by a contract to be hereafter mentioned. None of his earlier
plays were acted by the Duke's Company, unless those in which he had
received assistance from others, whom he might think as well entitled as
himself to prescribe the place of representation.

Such was the state of the English drama when Dryden became a candidate
for theatrical laurels. So early as the year of the Restoration, he had
meditated a tragedy upon the fate of the Duke of Guise; but this, he has
informed us, was suppressed by the advice of some friends, who told him,
that it was an excellent subject, but not so artificially managed as to
render it fit for the stage. It were to be wished these scenes had been
preserved, since it may be that the very want of artifice, alleged by
the critics of the day, would have recommended them to our more simple
taste. We might at least have learned from them, whether Dryden, in his
first essay, leant to the heroic, or to the ancient English tragedy. But
the scene of Guise's return to Paris, is the only part of the original
sketch which Dryden thought fit to interweave with the play, as acted in
1682; and as that scene is rendered literally from Davila, upon the
principle that, in so remarkable an action, the poet was not at liberty
to change the words actually used by the persons interested, we only
learn from it, that the piece was composed in blank verse, not rhyme.

In the course of the year 1661-2, our author composed the "Wild
Gallant," which was acted about February 1662-3 without success. The
beautiful Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland,
extended her protection to the unfortunate performance, and received the
incense of the author; who boasts,

  "Posterity will judge by my success,
  I had the Grecian poet's happiness,
  Who, waving plots, found out a better way,--
  Some god descended, and preserved the play."

It was probably by the influence of this royal favourite, that the "Wild
Gallant" was more than once performed before Charles by his own command.
But the author, his piece, and his poetical compliment, were hardly
treated in a Session of the Poets, which appeared about 1670. Nor did
Sir Robert Howard, his associate, escape without his share of ridicule:

  "Sir Robert Howard, called for over and over,
      At length sent in Teague with a packet of news,
  Wherein the sad knight, to his grief did discover
      How Dryden had lately robbed him of his Muse.

  Each man in the court was pleased with the theft,
      Which made the whole family swear and rant,
  Desiring, their Robin in the lurch being left,
      The thief might be punished for his 'Wild Gallant.'

  Dryden, who one would have thought had more wit,
      The censure of every man did disdain,
  Pleading some pitiful rhymes he had writ
      In praise of the Countess of Castlemaine."

The play itself contained too many of those prize-fights of wit, as
Buckingham called them, in which the plot stood absolutely still, while
two of the characters were showing the audience their dexterity at
repartee. This error furnishes matter for a lively scene in the
"Rehearsal."

The "Rival Ladies," acted in 1663, and published in the year following,
was our author's next dramatic essay. It is a tragi-comedy; and the
tragic scenes are executed in rhyme,--a style which Dryden anxiously
defended, in a Dedication addressed to the Earl of Orrery, who had
himself written several heroic plays. He cites against blank verse the
universal practice of the most polished and civilised nations, the
Spanish, the Italian, and the French; enumerates its advantages in
restraining the luxuriance of the poet's imagination, and compelling him
to labour long upon his clearest and richest thoughts: but he qualifies
his general assertion by affirming, that heroic verse ought only to be
applied to heroic situations and personages; and shows to most advantage
in the scenes of argumentation, on which the doing or forbearing some
considerable action should depend. Accordingly, in the "Rival Ladies,"
those scenes of the play which approach to comedy (for it contains none
properly comic) are written in blank verse. The Dedication contains two
remarkable errors: The author mistakes the title of "Ferrex and Porrex,"
a play written by Sackville Lord Buckhurst, and Norton; and he ascribes
to Shakespeare the first introduction of blank verse. The "Rival Ladies"
seems to have been well received, and was probably of some advantage to
the author.

In 1663-4, we find Dryden assisting Sir Robert Howard, who must be
termed his friend, if not his patron, in the composition of a rhyming
play, called the "Indian Queen." The versification of this piece, which
is far more harmonious than that generally used by Howard, shows
evidently, that our author had assiduously corrected the whole play,
though it may be difficult to say how much of it was written by him.
Clifford afterwards upbraided Dryden with having copied his Almanzor
from the character of Montezuma;[11] and it must be allowed, there is a
striking resemblance between these two outrageous heroes, who carry
conquest to any side they choose, and are restrained by no human
consideration, excepting the tears or commands of their mistress. But
whatever share Dryden had in this piece, Sir Robert Howard retained
possession of the title-page without acknowledgment, and Dryden nowhere
gives himself the trouble of reclaiming his property, except in a sketch
of the connection between the "Indian Queen," and "Indian Emperor,"
where he simply states, that he wrote a part of the former. The "Indian
Queen" was acted with very great applause, to which, doubtless, the
scenery and dresses contributed not a little. Moreover, it presented
battles and sacrifices on the stage, aerial demons singing in the air,
and the god of dreams ascending through a trap; the least of which has
often saved a worse tragedy.

The "Indian Queen" having been thus successful, Dryden was encouraged to
engraft upon it another drama, entitled, the "Indian Emperor." It is
seldom that the continuation of a concluded tale is acceptable to the
public. The present case was an exception, perhaps because the
connection between the "Indian Emperor" and its predecessor was neither
close nor necessary. Indeed, the whole persons of the "Indian Queen" are
disposed of by the bowl and dagger, at the conclusion of that tragedy,
excepting Montezuma, who, with a second set of characters, the sons and
daughters of those deceased in the first part, occupies the stage in the
second play. The author might, therefore, have safely left the audience
to discover the plot of the "Indian Emperor," without embarrassing them
with that of the "Indian Queen." But to prevent mistakes, and
principally, I should think, to explain the appearance of three ghosts,
the only persons (if they can be termed such) who have any connection
with the former drama, Dryden took the precaution to print and disperse
an argument of the play, in order, as the "Rehearsal" intimated, to
insinuate into the audience some conception of his plot. The "Indian
Emperor" was probably the first of Dryden's performances which drew upon
him, in an eminent degree, the attention of the public. It was dedicated
to Anne, Duchess of Monmouth, whom long afterward our author styled his
first and best patroness.[12] This lady, in the bloom of youth and
beauty, and married to a nobleman no less the darling of his father than
of the nation, had it in her power effectually to serve Dryden, and
doubtless exerted her influence in procuring him that rank in public
opinion, which is seldom early attained without the sanction of those
who lead the fashion in literature. The Duchess of Monmouth probably
liked in the "Indian Emperor," not only the beauty of the numbers, and
the frequently exquisite turn of the description, but also the
introduction of incantations and apparitions, of which romantic style of
writing she was a professed admirer. The "Indian Emperor" had the most
ample success; and from the time of its representation, till the day of
his death, our author, though often rudely assailed, maintained the very
pinnacle of poetical superiority, against all his contemporaries.

The dreadful fire of London, in 1666, put a temporary stop to theatrical
exhibitions, which were not permitted till the following Christmas. We
may take this opportunity to review the effect which the rise of
Dryden's reputation had upon his private fortune and habits of life.

While our author was the literary assistant of Sir Robert Howard, and
the hired labourer of Herringman the bookseller, we may readily presume
that his pretensions and mode of living were necessarily adapted to that
mode of life, into which he had descended by the unpopularity of his
puritanical connections. Even for some time after his connection with
the theatre, we learn, from a contemporary, that his dress was plain at
least, if not mean, and his pleasures moderate, though not
inelegant.[13] But as his reputation advanced, he naturally glided into
more expensive habits, and began to avail himself of the licence, as
well as to partake of the pleasures, of the time. We learn, from a poem
of his enemy Milbourne, that Dryden's person was advantageous; and that,
in the younger part of his life, he was distinguished by the emulous
favour of the fair sex.[14] And although it would not be edifying, were
it possible, to trace instances of his success in gallantry, we may
barely notice his intrigue with Mrs. Reeve, a beautiful actress, who
performed in many of his plays. This amour was probably terminated
before the fair lady's retreat to a cloister, which seems to have taken
place before the representation of Otway's "Don Carlos," in 1676.[15]
Their connection is alluded to in the "Rehearsal," which was acted in
1671. Bayes, talking of Amarillis, actually represented by Mrs. Reeve,
says, "Ay, 'tis a pretty little rogue; she's my mistress: I knew her
face would set off armour extremely; and to tell you true, I writ that
part only for her." There follows an obscure allusion to some gallantry
of our author in another quarter. But Dryden's amours were interrupted,
if not terminated, in 1665, by his marriage.

Our author's friendship with Sir Robert Howard and his increasing
reputation, had introduced him to the family of the Earl of Berkshire,
father to his friend. In the course of this intimacy, the poet gained
the affections of Lady Elizabeth Howard, the Earl's eldest daughter,
whom he soon afterwards married.[16] The lampoons, by which Dryden's
private character was assailed in all points, allege, that this marriage
was formed under circumstances dishonourable to the lady. But of this
there is no evidence; while the malignity of the reporters is evident
and undisguised. We may however believe, that the match was not
altogether agreeable to the noble family of Berkshire. Dryden, it is
true, might, in point of descent, be admitted to form pretensions to
Lady Elizabeth Howard; but his family, though honourable, was in a kind
of disgrace, from the part which Sir Gilbert Pickering and Sir John
Driden had taken in the civil wars: while the Berkshire family were
remarkable for their attachment to the royal cause. Besides, many of the
poet's relations were engaged in trade; and the alliance of his
brothers-in-law, the tobacconist and stationer, if it was then formed,
could not sound dignified in the ears of a Howard. Add to this a very
important consideration,--Dryden had no chance of sharing the wealth of
his principal relations, which might otherwise have been received as an
atonement for the guilty confiscations by which it was procured. He had
quarrelled with them, or they with him; his present possession was a
narrow independence; and his prospects were founded upon literary
success, always precarious, and then connected with circumstances of
personal abasement, which rendered it almost disreputable. A noble
family might be allowed to regret, that one of their members was chiefly
to rely for the maintenance of her husband, her family, and herself,
upon the fees of dedications, and occasional pieces of poetry, and the
uncertain profits of the theatre.

Yet, as Dryden's manners were amiable, his reputation high, and his
moral character unexceptionable the Earl of Berkshire was probably soon
reconciled to the match; and Dryden seems to have resided with his
father-in-law for some time, since it is from the Earl's seat of
Charlton, in Wiltshire, that he dates the introduction to the "_Annus
Mirabilis_," published in the end of 1667.[17]

So honourable a connection might have been expected to have advanced our
author's prospects in a degree beyond what he experienced; but his
father-in-law was poor, considering his rank, and had a large family, so
that the portion of Lady Elizabeth was inconsiderable. Nor was her want
of fortune supplied by patronage, or family influence. Dryden's
preferment, as poet laureate, was due to, and probably obtained by, his
literary character; nor did he ever receive any boon suitable to his
rank, as son-in-law to an earl. But, what was worst of all, the parties
did not find mutual happiness in the engagement they had formed. It is
difficult for a woman of a violent temper and weak intellects, and such
the lady seems to have been, to endure the apparently causeless
fluctuation of spirits incident to one doomed to labour incessantly in
the feverish exercise of the imagination. Unintentional neglect, and the
inevitable relaxation, or rather sinking of spirit, which follows
violent mental exertion, are easily misconstrued into capricious
rudeness, or intentional offence; and life is embittered by mutual
accusation, not the less intolerable because reciprocally just. The wife
of one who is to gain his livelihood by poetry, or by any labour (if any
there be) equally exhausting, must either have taste enough to relish
her husband's performances, or good-nature sufficient to pardon his
infirmities. It was Dryden's misfortune, that Lady Elizabeth had neither
the one nor the other; and I dismiss the disagreeable subject by
observing, that on no one occasion, when a sarcasm against matrimony
could be introduced, has our author failed to season it with such
bitterness as spoke an inward consciousness of domestic misery.[18]

During the period when the theatres were closed, Dryden seems to have
written and published the "_Annus Mirabilis_" of which we spoke at the
close of the last Section. But he was also then labouring upon his
"Essay of Dramatic Poesy." It was a singular trait in the character of
our author, that by whatever motive he was directed in his choice of a
subject, and his manner of treating it, he was upon all occasions, alike
anxious to persuade the public, that both the one and the other were the
object of his free choice, founded upon the most rational grounds of
preference. He had, therefore, no sooner seriously bent his thoughts to
the stage, and distinguished himself as a composer of heroic plays, than
he wrote his "Essay of Dramatic Poesy," in which he assumes, that the
drama was the highest department of poetry; and endeavours to prove,
that rhyming or heroic tragedies are the most legitimate offspring of
the drama.

The subject is agitated in a dialogue between Lord Buckhurst, Sir
Charles Sedley, Sir Robert Howard, and the author himself, under the
feigned names of Eugenius, Lisideius, Crites, and Neander. This
celebrated Essay was first published in the end of 1667, or beginning of
1668. The author revised it with an unusual degree of care, and
published it anew in 1684, with a Dedication to Lord Buckhurst.

In the introduction of the dialogue, our author artfully solicits the
attention of the public to the improved versification, in which he
himself so completely excelled all his contemporaries; and contrasts the
rugged lines and barbarous conceits of Cleveland with the more modern
style of composition, where the thoughts were moulded into easy and
significant words, superfluities of expression retrenched, and the rhyme
rendered so properly a part of the verse, that it was led and guided by
the sense, which was formerly sacrificed in attaining it. This point
being previously settled, a dispute occurs concerning the alleged
superiority of the ancient classic models of dramatic composition. This
is resolutely denied by all the speakers, excepting Crites; the
regulation of the unities is condemned, as often leading to greater
absurdities than those they were designed to obviate; and the classic
authors are censured for the cold and trite subjects of their comedies,
the bloody and horrible topics of many of their tragedies, and their
deficiency in painting the passion of love. From all this, it is justly
gathered, that the moderns, though with less regularity, possess a
greater scope for invention, and have discovered, as it were, a new
perfection in writing. This debated point being abandoned by Crites (or
Howard), the partisan of the ancients, a comparison between the French
and English drama is next introduced. Sedley, the celebrated wit and
courtier, pleads the cause of the French, an opinion which perhaps was
not singular among the favourites of Charles II. But the rest of the
speakers unite in condemning the extolled simplicity of the French
plots, as actual barrenness, compared to the variety and copiousness of
the English stage; and their authors' limiting the attention of the
audience and interest of the piece to a single principal personage, is
censured as poverty of imagination, when opposed to the diversification
of characters exhibited in the _dramatis personae_ of the English poets.
Shakespeare and Jonson are then brought forward, and contrasted with the
French dramatists, and with each other. The former is extolled, as the
man of all modern, and perhaps ancient, poets, who had the largest and
most comprehensive soul, and intuitive knowledge of human nature; and
the latter, as the most learned and judicious writer which any theatre
ever had. But to Shakespeare, Dryden objects, that his comic sometimes
degenerates into _clenches_, and his serious into bombast; to Jonson,
the sullen and saturnine character of his genius, his borrowing from the
ancients, and the insipidity of his latter plays. The examen leads to
the discussion of a point, in which Dryden had differed with Sir Robert
Howard. This was the use of rhyme in tragedy. Our author had, it will be
remembered, maintained the superiority of rhyming plays, in the
Introduction to the "Rival Ladies." Sir Robert Howard, the catalogue of
whose virtues did not include that of forbearance made a direct answer
to the arguments used in that Introduction; and while he studiously
extolled the plays of Lord Orrery, as affording an exception to his
general sentence against rhyming plays, he does not extend the
compliment to Dryden, whose defence of rhyme was expressly dedicated to
that noble author. Dryden, not much pleased, perhaps, at being left
undistinguished in the general censure passed upon rhyming plays by his
friend and ally, retaliates in the Essay, by placing in the mouth of
Crites the arguments urged by Sir Robert Howard, and replying to them in
the person of Neander. To the charge, that rhyme is unnatural, in
consequence of the inverted arrangement of the words necessary to
produce it, he replies, that, duly ordered, it may be natural in itself,
and therefore not unnatural in a play; and that, if the objection be
further insisted upon, it is equally conclusive against blank verse, or
measure without rhyme. To the objection founded on the formal and
uniform recurrence of the measure, he alleges the facility of varying
it, by throwing the cadence upon different parts of the line, by
breaking it into hemistichs, or by running the sense into another line,
so as to make art and order appear as loose and free as nature.[19]
Dryden even contends, that, for variety's sake, the pindaric measure
might be admitted, of which Davenant set an example in the "Siege of
Rhodes." But this licence, which was probably borrowed from the Spanish
stage, has never succeeded elsewhere, except in operas. Finally, it is
urged, that rhyme, the most noble verse, is alone fit for tragedies, the
most noble species of composition; that, far from injuring a scene, in
which quick repartee is necessary, it is the last perfection of wit to
put it into numbers; and that, even where a trivial and common
expression is placed, from necessity, in the mouth of an important
character, it receives, from the melody of versification, a dignity
befitting the person that is to pronounce it. With this keen and
animated defence of a mode of composition, in which he felt his own
excellence, Dryden concludes the "Essay of Dramatic Poesy."

The publication of this criticism, the first that contained an express
attempt to regulate dramatic writing, drew general attention, and gave
some offence. Sir Robert Howard felt noways flattered at being made,
through the whole dialogue, the champion of unsuccessful opinions: and a
partiality to the depreciated blank verse seems to have been hereditary
in his family.[20] He therefore hasted to assert his own opinion against
that of Dryden, in the preface to one of his plays, called the "Duke of
Lerma," published in the middle of the year 1668. It is difficult for
two friends to preserve their temper in a dispute of this nature; and
there may be reason to believe, that some dislike to the alliance of
Dryden, as a brother-in-law, mingled with the poetical jealousy of Sir
Robert Howard.[21] The Preface to the "Duke of Lerma" is written in the
tone of a man of quality and importance, who is conscious of stooping
beneath his own dignity, and neglecting his graver avocations, by
engaging in a literary dispute. Dryden was not likely, of many men, to
brook this tone of affected superiority. He retorted upon Sir Robert
Howard very severely, in a tract, entitled, the "Defence of the Essay on
Dramatic Poesy," which he prefixed to the second edition of the "Indian
Emperor," published in 1668. In this piece, the author mentions his
antagonist as master of more than twenty legions of arts and sciences,
in ironical allusion to Sir Robert's coxcombical affectation of
universal knowledge, which had already exposed him to the satire of
Shadwell.[22] He is also described in reference to some foolish
appearance in the House of Commons, as having maintained a contradiction
_in terminis_, in the face of three hundred persons. Neither does Dryden
neglect to hold up to ridicule the slips in Latin and English grammar,
which marked the offensive Preface to the "Duke of Lerma." And although
he concludes, that he honoured his adversary's parts and person as much
as any man living, and had so many particular obligations to him, that
he should be very ungrateful not to acknowledge them to the world, yet
the personal and contemptuous severity of the whole piece must have cut
to the heart so proud a man as Sir Robert Howard. This quarrel between
the baronet and the poet, who was suspected of having crutched-up many
of his lame performances, furnished food for lampoon and amusement to
the indolent wits of the day. But the breach between the
brothers-in-law, though wide, proved fortunately not irreconcilable; and
towards the end of Dryden's literary career, we find him again upon
terms of friendship with the person by whom he had been befriended at
its commencement.[23] Edward Howard, who, it appears, had entered as
warmly as his brother into the contest with Dryden about rhyming
tragedies, also seems to have been reconciled to our poet; at least, he
pronounced a panegyric on his translation of Virgil before it left the
press, in a passage which is also curious, from the author ranking in
the same line "the two elaborate poems of Milton and Blackmore."[24]

In testimony of total amnesty, the "Defence of the Essay" was cancelled;
and it must be rare indeed to meet with an original edition of it, since
Mr. Malone had never seen one.[25]

Dryden's fame, as an author, was doubtless exalted by the "Essay of
Dramatic Poesy;" which showed, that he could not only write plays, but
defend them when written. His circumstances rendered it necessary, that
he should take the full advantage of his reputation to meet the
increasing expense of a wife and family; and it was probably shortly
after the Essay appeared, that our author entered into his memorable
contract with the King's Company of players. The precise terms of this
agreement have been settled by Mr. Malone from unquestionable evidence,
after being the subject of much doubt and uncertainty. It is now
certain, that, confiding in the fertility of his genius, and the
readiness of his pen, Dryden undertook to write for the King's house no
less than three plays in the course of the year. In consideration of
this engagement, he was admitted to hold one share and a quarter in the
profits of the theatre, which was stated by the managers to have
produced him three or four hundred pounds, _communibus annis_. Either,
however, the players became sensible, that, by urging their pensioner to
continued drudgery, they in fact lessened the value of his labour, or
Dryden felt himself unequal to perform the task he had undertaken; for
the average number of plays which he produced, was only about half that
which had been contracted for. The company, though not without grudging,
paid the poet the stipulated share of profit; and the curious document,
recovered by Mr. Malone, not only establishes the terms of the bargain,
but that the players, although they complained of the laziness of their
indented author, were jealous of their right to his works, and anxious
to retain possession of him, and of them.[26] It would have been well
for Dryden's reputation, and perhaps not less productive to the company,
had the number of his plays been still further abridged; for, while we
admire the facility that could produce five or six plays in three years,
we lament to find it so often exerted to the sacrifice of the more
essential qualities of originality and correctness.

Dryden had, however, made his bargain, and was compelled to fulfil it
the best he might. As his last tragic piece, the "Indian Emperor," had
been eminently successful, he was next to show the public, that his
talents were not limited to the buskin; and accordingly, late in 1667,
was represented the "Maiden Queen," a tragi-comedy, in which, although
there is a comic plot separate from the tragic design, our author boasts
to have retained all that regularity and symmetry of parts which the
dramatic laws require. The tragic scenes of the "Maiden Queen" were
deservedly censured, as falling beneath the "Indian Emperor." They have
neither the stately march of the heroic dialogue, nor, what we would be
more pleased to have found in them, the truth of passion, and natural
colouring, which characterised the old English drama. But the credit of
the piece was redeemed by the comic part, which is a more light and airy
representation of the fashionable and licentious manners of the time
than Dryden could afterwards attain, excepting in "Marriage Г  la Mode."
The king, whose judgment on this subject was unquestionable graced the
"Maiden Queen" with the title of _his play_; and Dryden insinuates that
it would have been dedicated to him, had he had confidence to follow the
practice of the French poets in like cases. At least, he avoided the
solecism of inscribing the king's own play to a subject; and, instead of
a dedication, we have a preface, in which the sovereign's favourable
opinion of the piece is studiously insisted upon. Neither was the praise
of Charles conferred without critical consideration; for he justly
censured the concluding scene, in which Celadon and Florimel treat of
their marriage in very light terms in presence of the Queen, who stands
by, an idle spectator. This insult to Melpomene, and preference of her
comic sister, our author acknowledges to be a fault, but seemingly only
in deference to the royal opinion; for he instantly adds, that, in his
own judgment, the scene was necessary to make the piece go off smartly,
and was, in the estimation of good judges, the most diverting of the
whole comedy.

Encouraged by the success of the "Maiden Queen," Dryden proceeded to
revive the "Wild Gallant;" and, in deference to his reputation, it seems
now to have been more favourably received than at its first
representation.

The "Maiden Queen" was followed by the "Tempest," an alteration of
Shakespeare's play of the same name, in which Dryden assisted Sir
William Davenant. It seems probable that Dryden furnished the language,
and Davenant the plan of the new characters introduced. They do but
little honour to his invention, although Dryden has highly extolled it
in his preface. The idea of a counterpart to Shakespeare's plot, by
introducing a man who had never seen a woman, as a contrast to a woman
who had never seen a man, and by furnishing Caliban with a sister
monster, seems hardly worthy of the delight with which Dryden says he
filled up the characters so sketched. In mixing his tints, Dryden did
not omit that peculiar colouring, in which his age delighted. Miranda's
simplicity is converted into indelicacy, and Dorinda talks the language
of prostitution before she has ever seen a man. But the play seems to
have succeeded to the utmost wish of the authors. It was brought out in
the Duke's house, of which Davenant was manager, with all the splendour
of scenic decoration, of which he was inventor. The opening scene is
described as being particularly splendid, and the performance of the
spirits, "with mops and mows," excited general applause. Davenant died
before the publication of this piece, and his memory is celebrated in
the preface.

Our author's next play, if it could be properly called his, was "Sir
Martin Mar-all." This was originally a translation of "_L'Etourdi_" of
MoliГЁre, executed by the Duke of Newcastle, famous for his loyalty, and
his skill of horsemanship. Dryden availed himself of the noble
translator's permission to improve and bring "Sir Martin Mar-all"
forward for his own benefit. It was attended with the most complete
success, being played four times at court, and above thirty times at the
theatre in Lincoln's-Inn Fields; a run chiefly attributed to the
excellent performance of Nokes, who represented Sir Martin.[27] The
"Tempest" and "Sir Martin Mar-all" were both acted by the Duke's
Company, probably because Dryden was in the one assisted by Sir William
Davenant the manager, and because the other was entered in the name of
the Duke of Newcastle. Of these two plays, "Sir Martin Mar-all" was
printed anonymously in 1668. It did not appear with Dryden's name until
1697. The "Tempest," though acted before "Sir Martin Mar-all," was not
printed until 1669-70. They are in the present, as in former editions,
arranged according to the date of publication, which gives the
precedence to "Sir Martin Mar-all," though last acted.

The "Evening's Love, or the Mock Astrologer," was Dryden's next
composition. It is an imitation of "_Le Feint Astrologue_" of [T.]
Corneille, which is founded upon Calderon's "_El Astrologo Fingido_."
Several of the scenes are closely imitated from MoliГЁre's "_DГ©pit
Amoureux_." Having that lively bustle, intricacy of plot, and surprising
situation, which the taste of the time required, and being enlivened by
the characters of Wildblood and Jacinta, the "Mock Astrologer" seems to
have met a favourable reception in 1668, when it first appeared. It was
printed in the same, or in the following year, and inscribed to the Duke
of Newcastle, to whom Dryden had been indebted for the sketch of "Sir
Martin Mar-all." It would seem, that this gallant and chivalrous peer
was then a protector of Dryden, though he afterwards seems more
especially to have patronised his enemy Shadwell; upon whose _northern_
dedications, inscribed to the duke and his lady, our author is
particularly severe. In the preface to the "Evening's Love," Dryden
anxiously justifies himself from the charge of encouraging libertinism,
by crownings rake and coquette with success. But after he has arrayed
all the authority of the ancient and modern poets, and has pleaded that
these licentious characters are only made happy after being reclaimed in
the last scene, we may be permitted to think, that more proper heroes
may be selected than those, who, to merit the reward assigned them, must
announce a violent and sudden change from the character they have
sustained during five acts; and the attempt to shroud himself under
authority of others, is seldom resorted to by Dryden when a cause is
otherwise tenable. In this preface also he justified himself from the
charge of plagiarism by showing that the mere story is the least part
either of the labour of the poet, or of the graces of the poem; quoting
against his critics the expression of the king, who had said, he wished
those, who charged Dryden with theft, would always steal him plays like
Dryden's.