Wordsworth, on the other hand, catches the Virgilian spirit in the lines: -Yet tears to human suffering are due; (Cambridge edition, page 527, lines 164-167.) Dryden is least satisfactory in his treatment of the Pastorals and of those portions of the Georgics of which the charm, for modern readers, consists less in the subject matter than in the exquisite delicacy of the treatment, and the haunting melody of the rhythm. His Æneid, however, is a masterpiece of rapid narrative. The buoyant, flowing verse carries the reader forward with a glorious energy, and, at its best, has something of Virgil's own noble simplicity. The following passage, though deformed in one line by Dryden's fondness for antithesis, is a favorable example of his power: She thus replied: "The chaste and holy race (Pages 603, 604, lines 758-773.) At times the veteran satirist indulges his genius. The following triplet on Drances might be the portrait of a Whig leader: Factious and rich, bold at the council board, } (Page 678, lines 512-514.). More than this, Dryden inserts into his translation certain sly attacks on the reigning English monarch. (He had resisted, by the way, Tonson's request that he dedicate the volume to William III, though Tonson had "prepared the book for it" by having the engraver make the portrait of Æneas resemble that of the king.) In the following lines, describing criminals scourged by the Fury, the words in italics have no warrant in the Latin: 1 And the portraits of the rival kings of the bees, which are much altered and expanded from the original, are obviously meant to suggest James and William: With ease distinguish'd is the regal race: 1 The editor is here indebted to a writer in Notes and Queries, series II. vii. 168, and series II. x. 263. Shap'd to his size, and godlike to behold, And like their grisly prince appears his gloomy race. A musical society in London had for some years maintained the custom of celebrating November 22, the Feast of Saint Cecilia, by a public performance of vocal and instrumental music. Dryden, in 1687, had written an ode for this occasion; he now, ten years later, furnished another and a greater one, Alexander's Feast. This fine ode, which stands at the head of English lyric poetry between Milton and Gray, is to-day by far the best known of Dryden's poems. Yet, familiar as Alexander's Feast has become by ceaseless reprinting in schoolbooks and anthologies, it may be doubted whether many readers appreciate its full excellence. Brought up on the traditions of Wordsworth, Shelley, and Keats, we instinctively expect in lyric poetry either the expression of elevated moral or philosophical ideas, of intense passion, or of a delight in sensuous beauty. Dryden gives us none of these, but a rapid series of flashlight pictures, each expressed in verse that by its music suggests the scene described. The poem is rather a narrative than a pure lyric. No English poem is more full of life and animation; few show a more youthful spirit than this ode by the weary satirist and dramatist of sixty-six. Dryden's last years were cheered by the success of his Virgil, which reached a second edition within a few months after its first publication, and were saddened by the attacks of a few critics and rivals. To Milbourne, who assailed his Virgil, and Blackmore, who attacked his character, he paid comparatively little attention, judging correctly that their words would not affect public opinion. The case was different with Jeremy Collier, who in 1698 published his Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage, in which be arraigns the whole school of the Restoration dramatists, and Dryden chief among the number. To the charges Dryden manfully pleaded guilty, though he rightly accused Collier of exaggeration; and, somewhat lamely, excused his own sins in part by the general corruption of the times. The comparatively large profits of the Virgil did not free Dryden from the need of further exertion. He thought of undertaking a translation of the Iliad, and translated the first book "as an essay to the whole work" (page 740). But, perhaps deterred by a consciousness of his defective knowledge of Greek, he turned back to translate further selections from Ovid; to put into modern English some tales from Chaucer, whom he had long loved with a truly sympathetic insight; and to clothe in heroic verse three stories from Boccaccio, to whom he was led by his study of Chaucer. The result of this work, more congenial and more desultory than the long struggle with Virgil, was a volume published in 1700, entitled Fables, Ancient and Modern. These products of the poet's old age have an enduring charm. The harshness and asperity of the great satirist are gone; there remain a clear, melodious diction, and a frank, kindly spirit, which show Dryden to be a kinsman of Chaucer and of William Morris. Sorely battered by the storms of life, conscious that he had often played a part not worthy of his great powers, he appeared just before his death as "the idle singer of an empty day." Dryden passed away, after a short illness, on May 1, 1700. He died poor, leaving no personal property of any account, but not neglected. Vanbrugh and other friends had prepared for his benefit, in March or April, a representation of Beaumont and Fletcher's Pilgrim, for which Dryden himself wrote a prologue and epilogue and some small additions, the last of his works. He received a splendid funeral, and was laid to rest in the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey, near the graves of his first master, Cowley, and his last master, Chaucer. Many letters survive from Dryden's later years and give pleasant glimpses of the old man's way of life. He was an affectionate father, and showed an honest pride in his sons' humble endeavors to emulate his own literary fame. He was a kindly critic, encouraging younger writers, and giving them suggestions for improvements; from mean literary jealousy, which so deformed Pope's character, he was comparatively free.' He was a welcome visitor at the country house of his good kinswoman Mrs. Steward, "at Cotterstock, near Oundle, in the county of Northampton," and gratefully acknowledges her hospitality. In one letter he praises the dainties that Mrs. Steward has sent to him: "Not to name my self or my wife, my sonn Charles is the great commender of your last receiv'd present; who being of late somewhat indispos'd, uses to send for some of the same sort, which we call heer marrow-puddings, for his suppers; but the tast of yours has so spoyl'd his markets heer, that there is not the least comparison betwixt them.” But in his next letter he confesses: "As for the rarities you promise, if beggars might be choosers, a part of a chine of honest bacon wou'd please my appetite more than all the marrow puddings; for I like them better plain, having a very vulgar stomach." When in London, Dryden wrote at home all the morning, dined with his family, then went to Will's Coffee-House, where he spent his evenings. His reign there as judge of wit is described in a well-known passage by Dr. Johnson: "Of the only two men whom I have found, to whom he was personally known, one told me that at the house which he frequented, called Will's Coffee-House, the appeal upon any literary dispute was made to him: and the other related that his armed chair, which in the winter had a settled and prescriptive place by the fire, was in the summer placed in the balcony, and that he called the two places his winter and his summer seat.” To this resort the boy Pope "prevailed with a friend to carry him," that he might see the man whom later he always revered as his master, on the occasion that he describes in Spence's Anecdotes: "I saw Mr. Dryden when I was about twelve years of age — this bust is like him. I remember his face well; for I looked upon him, even then, with the greatest veneration, and observed him very particularly." In person Dryden was short and plump; by the lampooners of the time he was called "little Bayes" and "the poet squab." A portrait of him in his youth shows him as very handsome. He retained his rosy cheeks beyond middle life. In conversation he was not brilliant, being hampered by a shy and hesitating manner, which is mimicked by Mr. Bayes in The Rehearsal. Even his reading of his own verses was far from excellent. Dryden's character is a subject on which there can be much diversity of opinion. His prime characteristics were receptivity, kindliness, and a sort of modest honesty. His mind was so hospitable to new ideas, and so ready to adapt its utterance to the needs of the moment, that at a first impression we are apt to think him a mere hypocrite and timeserver. On further acquaintance we find him a kindly gentleman, like some of our per 1 The following sentence, attributed to Tonson in Spence's Anecdotes, really (by the use of even) praises Dryden in contrast to other writers: "Even Dryden was very suspicious of rivals. He would compliment Crowne, when a play of his failed, but was cold to him if he met with success."' Note by Warburton: see The Works of Alexander Pope, ed. Elwin and Courthope, vol. vi, p. 15. 3 This painting is reproduced in the present volume. It certainly gives a stronger impression of intellectual distinction than the somewhat sleepy Kneller portraits of the poet in his later years. sonal friends, unconcerned with superficial consistency, distinguished among his fellow men of letters not so much by elevation of spirit as by ability to express finely his passing opinions. As he advances in age, his character grows more mellow, and his opinions mold themselves into the semblance of a system, of which the central element is respect for authority and tradition, in letters, in government, and in religion. The old man wins our respect by his open confession of past errors and of his liability to fall into fresh He ends his life surrounded by friends, both old and new. ones. This short account of the life and character of John Dryden may well close with Congreve's portrait of his friend; a portrait that is flattering, but, we may trust, not untrue in any essential respect: "He was of a nature exceedingly humane and compassionate, easily forgiving injuries, and capable of a prompt and sincere reconciliation with them who had offended him. "Such a temperament is the only solid foundation of all moral virtues and sociable endowments. His friendship, where he professed it, went much beyond his professions; and I have been told of strong and generous instances of it, by the persons themselves who received them, though his hereditary income was little more than a bare competency. "As his reading had been very extensive, so was he very happy in a memory tenacious of everything that he had read. He was not more possessed of knowledge than he was communicative of it. But then his communication of it was by no means pedantic, or imposed upon the conversation; but just such, and went so far as by the natural turns of the discourse in which he was engaged it was necessarily promoted or required. He was extreme ready and gentle in his correction of the errors of any writer who thought fit to consult him, and full as ready and patient to admit of the reprehension of others in respect of his oversight or mistakes. He was of very easy, I may say, of very pleasing access; but something slow, and as it were diffident in his advances to others. He had something in his nature that abhorred intrusion into any society whatsoever. Indeed it is to be regretted that he was rather blamable in the other extreme; for, by that means, he was personally less known, and consequently his character might become liable both to misapprehensions and misrepresentations. "To the best of my knowledge and observation, he was, of all the men that ever I knew, one of the most modest, and the most easily to be discountenanced in his approaches, either to his superiors or his equals." (Preface to Congreve's edition of Dryden's dramas; reprinted in Scott-Saintsbury edition, ii. 17, 18.) V Dryden's reputation as a writer has been subject to great fluctuations. In his own time his commanding position was early recognized; even his assailants admitted his power. In the eighteenth century his fame even increased. Pope acknowledged him as his teacher. Gray's lines in The Progress of Poesy are almost too familiar for quotation: Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car, Wide o'er the fields of glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long-resounding pace. Dr. Johnson, in his carefully developed comparison of Dryden and Pope, accords to the older poet, "with some hesitation," the superior genius; but he quickly adds that "every other writer since Milton must give place to Pope." Thus when Sir Walter Scott wrote in 1808, at the close of his Life of Dryden, that he left in English literature "a name second only to those of Milton and of Shakespeare," he was merely recording a received literary opinion. With the rise of the romantic school, though both Byron and Wordsworth admired his genius,' and Keats studied carefully his versification, Dryden's reputation declined. At the present time, though no competent critic fails to pay tribute to Dryden's power, comparatively few persons read him with genuine enthusiasm. In many of the highest qualities of a poet Dryden was certainly lacking. He expressed no great moral ideas or social aspirations; he had little intuitive knowledge of human nature, and no feeling for the beauty of the external world. He began serious work comparatively late in life, and always regarded his art as primarily a means for making a living. His original poems, except his dramas, were all occasional productions, written not from any creative impulse, but to serve some passing purpose; they were devoted to courtly panegyric or to party warfare. Unlike Spenser and Milton, Dryden found no high ideals and lofty aspirations among the men whom he served; nor was he a man, like Shelley, to revolt against the tendencies of his environment, and create ideals and aspirations for himself. As the portraits in Absalom and Achitophel amply prove, no man could describe charac- > ter, in a certain way, better than Dryden. The central defect of his dramatic works is that they too are essentially descriptive. Dryden's men and women are figures made to order, after the pattern of previous writers, rather than living beings, created by the poet from his immediate sympathy with human nature. Their speeches are eloquent, often beautiful, but rarely do we find a phrase like Cleopatra's in All for Love, And thus one minute's feigning has destroy'd (Scott-Saintsbury edition, v. 415.) which seems wrung from the speaker by real depth of feeling. Some reservations are necessary even as to Dryden's description of character. If we contrast his figures in Absalom and Achitophel with those of Chaucer in his Prologue, we notice Dryden's insistence on abstract qualities and on abstract adjectives, in contrast to Chaucer's attention to personal appearance, even to the details of attire, as an index of character. Shaftesbury's person gave free scope for concrete description, but to it Dryden came no nearer than the following lines: A fiery soul, which, working out its way, And o'er-inform'd the tenement of clay. (Page 111, lines 156-158.) Seldom does Dryden give details like those in regard to Oates: Sunk were his eyes; his voice was harsh and loud, (Pages 117, 118, lines 646-649.) Even here he is not content to let the details speak for themselves, but must point out the abstract qualities they denote. Contrast with this Chaucer's description of the Monk! This tendency to the abstract rather than the concrete prepares us for the fatal weakness of all Dryden's attempts at the description of nature. Brought up in the country, he was nevertheless insensible to its beauty. Of his few passages of natural description, the following, from The Indian Emperor, is perhaps the most ambitious: 1 For Wordsworth's general verdict on Dryden, see p. 1016. |