CHAPTER VIITHE AGE OF DRYDEN
The thick line shows the period of active literary work.
1650 1660 1670 1680 1690 1700 1710 | | | | | | | | |║[132]| | | |║ | Dryden |........|║===================================║ | (1631–1700) | | | | | | | | | ║[133]| ║ |║ | | | Butler |........|.║===========║...|║ | | | (1612–80) | | | | | | | | | | ║ ║ | | | | Wycherley |........|........|..║===║ |........|........|........| (1640–1715) | | | | | | | | | |║ | | ║[134]║| | Congreve | | |║.......|........|.║=====║|........| (1670–1729) | | | | | | | | |║ | ║[135]║| ║ | | | Bunyan |........|║=========║=====║|.....║ | | | (1628–1688) | | | ║ | | | | | |║ | | | | ║ | Evelyn |........|║======================================║ | (1620–1706) | | | | | | | | |║ | | | | ║ | Pepys |........|║=====================================║ | (1633–1703) |
Three historical events deeply influenced the literary movements of the time: the Restoration of the year 1660; the Roman Catholic controversy that raged during the latter half of Charles II’s reign; and the Revolution of the year 1688.
1. The Restoration (1660).The Restoration of Charles II brought about a revolution in our literature. With the collapse of the Puritan Government there sprang up activities that had been so long suppressed that they flew to violent excesses. The Commonwealth had insisted on gravity and decorum in all things; the Restoration encourageda levity that often became immoral and indecent. Along with much that is sane and powerful, this latter tendency is prominent in the writing of the time, especially in the comedies.
2. The Religious Question.The strength of the religious-political passions of the time is reflected in the current literature. The religion of the King was suspect; that of his brother James was avowedly Papist; and James was the heir-apparent to the crown. There was a prevalent suspicion of the Catholics, which, though it might have been groundless, was of such depth and intensity that it colors all the writings of the time. The lies of Titus Oates added to the popular frenzy, so that when the Earl of Shaftesbury sought to exclude James from the throne and supplant him by the Duke of Monmouth it needed all the efforts of Charles (himself secretly a Roman Catholic) to save his brother. The famous poem of Dryden,Absalom and Achitophel, is an outstanding example of a kind of poem that abounded during those troubled years.
3. The Revolution (1688).James succeeded to the throne in 1685; but so soon did he reveal his Roman Catholic prejudices that he was rejected in three years and was replaced by Protestant sovereigns. Henceforth religious passions diminish in intensity; and the literature of the succeeding years tends to emphasize the political rather than the religious side of public affairs.
By the year 1660 Elizabethan romanticism had all but spent itself. Of the great figures of the earlier era only one survived, John Milton, and he had still to writeParadise Lost; but in everything Milton was of the past. At the Restoration he retired and worked in obscurity, and his great poem reveals no signs of the time in which his later years were cast.
At the Restoration the break with the past was almost absolute. It involved our literature in the deepest degree; subject and style took on a new spirit and outlook, a differentattitude and aim. Hence a post-Restoration period is often set up as the converse and antithesis of the previous Elizabethan age. It is calledclassical, as opposed to the Elizabethanromanticism. Though the contrast between the two epochs need not be over-emphasized, yet the differences are very great. Let us see in what respects the new spirit is shown.
1. Imitation of the Ancients.Lacking the genius of the Elizabethans, the authors of the time turned to the great classical writers, in particular to the Latin writers, for guidance and inspiration. This habit, quite noticeable during the time of Dryden, deepened and hardened during the succeeding era of Pope—so much so that the latter laid down as a final test of excellence
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;To copy nature is to copy them.
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;To copy nature is to copy them.
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;To copy nature is to copy them.
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
To copy nature is to copy them.
2. Imitation of the French.Charles II had spent most of his years of exile in France, and when he returned to England he brought with him a new admiration for French literature. In particular the effects of this penetrated very deeply into the drama, especially into comedy, the most copious literary product of the Restoration. Of French comedy the great Molière was the outstanding exponent, and his influence was very great. In the more formal tragedy French and classical models were combined to produce a new type called theheroic play. The type is well represented by Dryden’sTyrannic Love.
3. The “Correct” School.The Elizabethans too had drawn upon the ancients, but they used their gains freely and joyously, bending the work of the classical authors to their own wills. The imitative work of the new school was of a frigid and limited quality. The school of Dryden was loath to alter; the age of Pope abandoned freedom altogether. Pope puts it thus:
Those Rules of old, discovered, not devised,Are Nature still, but Nature methodised.
Those Rules of old, discovered, not devised,Are Nature still, but Nature methodised.
Those Rules of old, discovered, not devised,Are Nature still, but Nature methodised.
Those Rules of old, discovered, not devised,
Are Nature still, but Nature methodised.
Thus they evolved a number of “rules,” which can usefully be summarized in the injunction “Be correct.” “Correctness” means avoidance of enthusiasm; modern opinions moderately expressed; strict care and accuracy in poetical technique; and humble imitation of the style of the Latin classics.
Dryden did not attain altogether to this ideal. Pope and his immediate successors called him “copious,” thus hinting at a lack of care and an unrestrained vigor that were survivals of an earlier virility. Yet Dryden has the new tendency very clearly marked. To him Dr. Johnson first applied the epithet “Augustan,” saying that Dryden did to English literature what Augustus did to Rome, which he “found of brick and left of marble.” Dryden is the first great exponent of the new ideas that were to dominate our literature till the end of the eighteenth century.
1. His Life.Dryden’s life was a long one. It was, in addition, an exceedingly fruitful one. For forty years he continued to produce an abundance of literary works of every kind—poems, plays, and prose works. The quality of it was almost unfailingly good, and at the end of his life his poetry was as fresh and vivacious as it had been in the prime of his manhood.
Of Dryden it can be said without qualification that he is representative of his age. Indeed, it has been urged as a fault against his character that he adapted himself with too facile a conscience to the changing fortunes of the times. His earliest work of any importance is pre-Restoration, and consists of a laudation of Oliver Cromwell. At the Restoration he changed his views, attaching himself to the fortunes of Charles II and to the Church of England. This loyalty brought its rewards in honors and pensions, so that for many years Dryden was easily the most considerable literary figure in the land. Yet his career was not without its thorns, for smaller men were busy with their slanders. On the accession of James II in 1685Dryden changed his faith and political persuasion, becoming a Roman Catholic. To his new beliefs he adhered steadfastly, even when in 1688 the Revolution brought certain disasters to such public men as adhered to Catholicism. Thus Dryden lost his posts of Poet Laureate and Historiographer Royal. The Laureateship was conferred on Shadwell, his most rancorous foe; and Dryden retired with dignity to sustain his last years with his literary labors. To this last period of his career we owe some of his finest translations and narrative poems. When he died in 1700 he was accorded a splendid funeral in Westminster Abbey, though it was many years before his grave was marked by a tombstone.
2. His Poetry.Dryden began his life’s work with poetry; he concluded it with poetry; and the years between are starred with the brightness of his greater poems. As early as February, 1664, Pepys records in his diary that he met “Mr. Dryden, the poet”; and he remained “Mr. Dryden, the poet,” till the day of his death. It is therefore as a poet that Dryden is chiefly to be judged.
His first published poem of any consequence was a series of heroic stanzas on the death of the Protector Oliver Cromwell (1659). It consists of thirty-seven quatrains of no particular merit. They move stiffly, and are quite uninspired by any political or personal enthusiasm, but they show a certain angular force and a little metrical dexterity. Two stanzas will show the art of the earliest Dryden:
His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone,For he was great, ere Fortune made him so;And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.No borrowed bays his temples did adorn,But to our crown he did fresh laurels bring;Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born,With the too early thoughts of being king.
His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone,For he was great, ere Fortune made him so;And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.No borrowed bays his temples did adorn,But to our crown he did fresh laurels bring;Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born,With the too early thoughts of being king.
His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone,For he was great, ere Fortune made him so;And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.
His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone,
For he was great, ere Fortune made him so;
And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,
Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.
No borrowed bays his temples did adorn,But to our crown he did fresh laurels bring;Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born,With the too early thoughts of being king.
No borrowed bays his temples did adorn,
But to our crown he did fresh laurels bring;
Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.
In 1660 he made a great step forward in poetical craftsmanship by publishingAstrœa Redux, in celebration ofCharles II’s return. The poem represents a complete reversal of the poet’s political opinions; but it is nevertheless a noteworthy literary advance. In its handling of the subject it shows a firmer grip and stronger common sense; in its style a new command of sonorous and dignified phrasing; and (as important a feature as any of the others) it is written in the heroic couplet.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover’s strand,Who in their haste to welcome you to landChoked up the beach with their still growing store,And made a wilder torrent on the shore.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover’s strand,Who in their haste to welcome you to landChoked up the beach with their still growing store,And made a wilder torrent on the shore.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover’s strand,Who in their haste to welcome you to landChoked up the beach with their still growing store,And made a wilder torrent on the shore.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover’s strand,
Who in their haste to welcome you to land
Choked up the beach with their still growing store,
And made a wilder torrent on the shore.
Here we see Dryden, though not yet at his best, coming to his own. The couplet marches with a steady but animated ring and swing. Its phrasing is apt and vivid; and it possesses a strength and music that are new. It marks the beginning of that adherence to the use of the couplet which was to be Dryden’s lifelong habit, and which was to mark a new epoch in our literature.
Two other poems of this year—one on the coronation and one addressed to the Chancellor, Clarendon,—resembleAstrœa Reduxin their main features, and are little inferior.
In 1666 he producedAnnus Mirabilis, dealing with the extraordinary events of the year, particularly the Fire of London and the Dutch war. The poem is long, and often dull. When he attempts “style” he is sometimes florid and ridiculous. Moreover, the meter returns to the quatrain. The work is inferior to those of 1660, but is still an advance on the stanzas to Cromwell.
For more than fifteen years succeeding this Dryden devoted himself almost entirely to the writing of plays. Then, about 1680, events both political and personal drove him back to the poetical medium, with results both splendid and astonishing. Political passions over the Exclusion Bills were at their height, and Dryden appeared as the chief literary champion of the monarchy in the famous satirical allegoryAbsalom and Achitophel(1681). Absalom is the Dukeof Monmouth, the unfortunate aspirant to the succession; and Achitophel is his daring but injudicious counselor Shaftesbury. These two are surrounded by a cluster of lesser politicians, upon each of whom Dryden bestows a Biblical name of deadly aptness and transparency. The satire is of amazing force and range, rarely stooping to scurrility, but punishing its victims with devastating scorn and a wrathful aloofness; and it takes shape in the best quality of Dryden’s couplet. Long practice in dramatic couplet-writing had now given Dryden a new metrical facility, tightening and strengthening the measure, and giving it crispness and energy without allowing it to become violent and obscure. We give a specimen of this measure, which in many ways represents the summit of Dryden’s poetical achievement:
Of these the false Achitophel was first;A name to all succeeding ages curst:For close designs and crooked counsels fit;Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;Restless, unfixed in principles and place;In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace:A fiery soul, which, working out its way,Fretted the pigmy body to decay,And o’er-informed the tenement of clay.A daring pilot in extremity;Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.Great wits are sure to madness near allied,And thin partitions do their bounds divide;Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?Punish a body which he could not please;Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?And all to leave what with his toil he won,To that unfeathered two-legged thing—a son.
Of these the false Achitophel was first;A name to all succeeding ages curst:For close designs and crooked counsels fit;Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;Restless, unfixed in principles and place;In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace:A fiery soul, which, working out its way,Fretted the pigmy body to decay,And o’er-informed the tenement of clay.A daring pilot in extremity;Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.Great wits are sure to madness near allied,And thin partitions do their bounds divide;Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?Punish a body which he could not please;Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?And all to leave what with his toil he won,To that unfeathered two-legged thing—a son.
Of these the false Achitophel was first;A name to all succeeding ages curst:For close designs and crooked counsels fit;Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;Restless, unfixed in principles and place;In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace:A fiery soul, which, working out its way,Fretted the pigmy body to decay,And o’er-informed the tenement of clay.A daring pilot in extremity;Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.Great wits are sure to madness near allied,And thin partitions do their bounds divide;Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?Punish a body which he could not please;Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?And all to leave what with his toil he won,To that unfeathered two-legged thing—a son.
Of these the false Achitophel was first;
A name to all succeeding ages curst:
For close designs and crooked counsels fit;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;
Restless, unfixed in principles and place;
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace:
A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o’er-informed the tenement of clay.
A daring pilot in extremity;
Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,
He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide;
Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a body which he could not please;
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeathered two-legged thing—a son.
Of such satire as this Dryden himself says not unfairly, “It is not bloody, but it is ridiculous enough. I avoided the mention of great crimes, and applied myself to the representing of blind sides and little extravagances.” The hitting is hard, but not foul.
Next year he produced another political poem,The Medal, which called forth an answer from an old friend of Dryden’s, Shadwell. Dryden retorted inMacFlecknoe, a personal lampoon of gigantic power and ferocity, but degraded with much coarseness and personal spite. A similar poem is the second part ofAbsalom and Achitophel, to which poem Dryden contributed a violent attack on Shadwell, giving him the name of Og. The main part of the work was composed by Nahum Tate, a satellite of Dryden’s.
A new poetical development was manifest inReligio Laici(1682) andThe Hind and the Panther(1687). The first poem is a thesis in support of the English Church; the second, written after the accession of James, is an allegorical defense of the Roman Catholic faith. Alterations like these in Dryden’s opinions gave free play to the gibes of his enemies. In spite of their difference in opinion, these poems have much in common: a clear light of argument, a methodical arrangement of ideas, and a mastery of the couplet that often lifts the drabness of the expository theme into passages of noble feeling and splendor. The allegorical treatment ofThe Hind and the Pantherallows of a livelier handling; but the poem is very long, consisting of more than one part, and much of it is dogmatic assertion and tedious argument.
After the Revolution, when he was driven from his public appointments, Dryden occupied himself chiefly with translations. He once more used the couplet medium, turning Virgil, Ovid, and Boccaccio into English, and adapting Chaucer to the taste of his time. The translation is so free that much of it is Dryden’s own, and all of it teems with his own individuality. We give a passage to illustrate both the latest phase of his couplet and his power as a narrative poet:
Scarce the third glass of measured hours was run,When like a fiery meteor sunk the sun,The promise of a storm; the shifting galesForsake by fits and fill the flagging sails;Hoarse murmurs of the main from far were heard,And night came on, not by degrees prepared,But all at once; at once the winds arise,The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies.In vain the master issues out commands,In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands;The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,And from the first they labour in despair.The giddy ship betwixt the winds and tides,Forced back and forwards, in a circle rides,Stunned with the different blows; then shoots amain,Till counterbuffed she stops, and sleeps again.Cymon and Iphigenia
Scarce the third glass of measured hours was run,When like a fiery meteor sunk the sun,The promise of a storm; the shifting galesForsake by fits and fill the flagging sails;Hoarse murmurs of the main from far were heard,And night came on, not by degrees prepared,But all at once; at once the winds arise,The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies.In vain the master issues out commands,In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands;The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,And from the first they labour in despair.The giddy ship betwixt the winds and tides,Forced back and forwards, in a circle rides,Stunned with the different blows; then shoots amain,Till counterbuffed she stops, and sleeps again.Cymon and Iphigenia
Scarce the third glass of measured hours was run,When like a fiery meteor sunk the sun,The promise of a storm; the shifting galesForsake by fits and fill the flagging sails;Hoarse murmurs of the main from far were heard,And night came on, not by degrees prepared,But all at once; at once the winds arise,The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies.In vain the master issues out commands,In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands;The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,And from the first they labour in despair.The giddy ship betwixt the winds and tides,Forced back and forwards, in a circle rides,Stunned with the different blows; then shoots amain,Till counterbuffed she stops, and sleeps again.Cymon and Iphigenia
Scarce the third glass of measured hours was run,
When like a fiery meteor sunk the sun,
The promise of a storm; the shifting gales
Forsake by fits and fill the flagging sails;
Hoarse murmurs of the main from far were heard,
And night came on, not by degrees prepared,
But all at once; at once the winds arise,
The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies.
In vain the master issues out commands,
In vain the trembling sailors ply their hands;
The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,
And from the first they labour in despair.
The giddy ship betwixt the winds and tides,
Forced back and forwards, in a circle rides,
Stunned with the different blows; then shoots amain,
Till counterbuffed she stops, and sleeps again.
Cymon and Iphigenia
Though it is small in bulk, Dryden’s lyrical poetry is of much importance. The longest and the best-known pieces of this class are hisSong for St. Cecilia’s Day(1687) andAlexander’s Feast, written for the same anniversary in 1697. Both show Dryden as a master of melodious verse and of a varied and powerful style. The numerous lyrics that appear in his plays are charming. One stanza will illustrate this sweetly facile phase of the poet’s art:
On a bank, beside a willow,Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,Sad Amynta sighed alone;From the cheerless dawn of morningTill the dews of night returning,Singing thus she made her moan:“Hope is banished,Joys are vanished,Damon, my beloved, is gone!”
On a bank, beside a willow,Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,Sad Amynta sighed alone;From the cheerless dawn of morningTill the dews of night returning,Singing thus she made her moan:“Hope is banished,Joys are vanished,Damon, my beloved, is gone!”
On a bank, beside a willow,Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,Sad Amynta sighed alone;From the cheerless dawn of morningTill the dews of night returning,Singing thus she made her moan:“Hope is banished,Joys are vanished,Damon, my beloved, is gone!”
On a bank, beside a willow,
Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad Amynta sighed alone;
From the cheerless dawn of morning
Till the dews of night returning,
Singing thus she made her moan:
“Hope is banished,
Joys are vanished,
Damon, my beloved, is gone!”
His numerous prologues and epilogues, written in couplets, show abundant wit and vivacity, yet they habitually appeal to the worst instincts of his audiences, being very often coarse and unmannerly.
3. His Drama.In his dramatic work, as elsewhere, Dryden is a faithful reflex of his time. His methods and objects vary as the public appreciation of them waxes and wanes, with the result that he gives us a historical summary of the popular fancy.
His first play was a comedy,The Wild Gallant(1663), which had but a very moderate success. It has the complicated plot of the popular Spanish comedies and the “humors” of Jonson’s. After this unsuccessful attempt at public favor Dryden turned to tragedy, which henceforth nearly monopolizes his dramatic work.
His tragedies fall into two main groups:
(a)The Heroic Play.This is a new type of the tragedy that became prominent after the Restoration, and of which Dryden is one of the earliest and most skillful exponents. The chief features of the new growth are the choice of a great heroic figure for the central personage; a succession of stage incidents of an exalted character, which often, through the inexpertness of the dramatist, became ridiculous; a loud and ranting style; and the rhymed couplet. Dryden’sRival Ladies(1663) is a hybrid between the comic and heroic species of play;The Indian Emperor(1665),Tyrannic Love(1669),The Conquest of Granada(1670), andAurengzebe(1675) show the heroic kind at its best and worst. Though Dryden is heavily weighted with the ponderous mechanism of the heroic play, his gigantic literary strength is often sufficient to give it an attraction and a kind of heavy-footed animation.
(b)His Blank-verse Tragedies.The heroic play was so easily parodied and made ridiculous, that the wits of the Restoration were not slow to make a butt of it. Their onslaughts were not without their effect on Dryden, for already inAurengzebea shamefaced weakening of the heroic mannerisms is apparent. In the prologue to this play Dryden fairly admits it, saying that he
Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rime.Passion’s too fierce to be in fetters bound,And Nature flies him like enchanted ground.
Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rime.Passion’s too fierce to be in fetters bound,And Nature flies him like enchanted ground.
Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rime.Passion’s too fierce to be in fetters bound,And Nature flies him like enchanted ground.
Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rime.
Passion’s too fierce to be in fetters bound,
And Nature flies him like enchanted ground.
His next play,All for Love, or The World well Lost(1678), is in blank verse, and is considered to be his dramatic masterpiece. For subject he chose that of Shakespeare’sAntony and Cleopatra. It was a daring thing to attempt what Shakespeare had already done; but Dryden, while following the earlier play somewhat closely, never actually copies it. He produces a play of a distinctly different nature, and of a high merit. The characters are well drawn and animated, and the style, though lacking the daimonic force of Shakespeare’s at his best, is noble and restrained. We give Dryden’s handling of the death of Cleopatra, a passage which should be compared with that of Shakespeare given on p.121.
(Antony is lying dead on the stage; Charmion and Iras, the Queen’s two handmaidens, are in attendance on her.)Charmion.To what endThese ensigns of your pomp and royalty?Cleopatra.Dull that thou art! Why, ’tis to meet my love;As when I saw him first, on Cydnos’ bank,All sparkling, like a goddess....Haste, haste, both,And dress the bride of Antony.Charmion.’Tis done.Cleopatra.Now seat me by my lord; I claim this place....Reach me the casket.Iras.Underneath the fruitThe aspic lies.Cleopatra.Welcome, thou kind deceiver![Putting aside the leaves.Thou best of thieves, who with an easy keyDost open life, and, unperceived by us,Even steal us from ourselves....Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent’s fury.[Holds out her arm, and draws it back.Coward flesh,Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,As thou wert none of mine? I’ll force thee to it,And not be sent by him,But bring, myself, my soul to Antony.[Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody.Take hence; the work is done....Charmion.The next is ours.Iras.Now, Charmion, to be worthyOf our great queen and mistress.[They apply the aspics.Cleopatra.Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:I go with such a will to find my lord,That we shall quickly meet.A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,And now ’tis at my head: my eyelids fall,And my dear love is vanquished in a mist.Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,And lay me on his breast! Cæsar, thy worst;Now part us, if thou canst.[Dies.[Iras sinks down at her feet, and dies; Charmion stands behind her chair, as dressing her head.
(Antony is lying dead on the stage; Charmion and Iras, the Queen’s two handmaidens, are in attendance on her.)Charmion.To what endThese ensigns of your pomp and royalty?Cleopatra.Dull that thou art! Why, ’tis to meet my love;As when I saw him first, on Cydnos’ bank,All sparkling, like a goddess....Haste, haste, both,And dress the bride of Antony.Charmion.’Tis done.Cleopatra.Now seat me by my lord; I claim this place....Reach me the casket.Iras.Underneath the fruitThe aspic lies.Cleopatra.Welcome, thou kind deceiver![Putting aside the leaves.Thou best of thieves, who with an easy keyDost open life, and, unperceived by us,Even steal us from ourselves....Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent’s fury.[Holds out her arm, and draws it back.Coward flesh,Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,As thou wert none of mine? I’ll force thee to it,And not be sent by him,But bring, myself, my soul to Antony.[Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody.Take hence; the work is done....Charmion.The next is ours.Iras.Now, Charmion, to be worthyOf our great queen and mistress.[They apply the aspics.Cleopatra.Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:I go with such a will to find my lord,That we shall quickly meet.A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,And now ’tis at my head: my eyelids fall,And my dear love is vanquished in a mist.Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,And lay me on his breast! Cæsar, thy worst;Now part us, if thou canst.[Dies.[Iras sinks down at her feet, and dies; Charmion stands behind her chair, as dressing her head.
(Antony is lying dead on the stage; Charmion and Iras, the Queen’s two handmaidens, are in attendance on her.)Charmion.To what endThese ensigns of your pomp and royalty?Cleopatra.Dull that thou art! Why, ’tis to meet my love;As when I saw him first, on Cydnos’ bank,All sparkling, like a goddess....Haste, haste, both,And dress the bride of Antony.Charmion.’Tis done.Cleopatra.Now seat me by my lord; I claim this place....Reach me the casket.Iras.Underneath the fruitThe aspic lies.Cleopatra.Welcome, thou kind deceiver![Putting aside the leaves.Thou best of thieves, who with an easy keyDost open life, and, unperceived by us,Even steal us from ourselves....Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent’s fury.[Holds out her arm, and draws it back.Coward flesh,Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,As thou wert none of mine? I’ll force thee to it,And not be sent by him,But bring, myself, my soul to Antony.[Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody.Take hence; the work is done....Charmion.The next is ours.Iras.Now, Charmion, to be worthyOf our great queen and mistress.[They apply the aspics.Cleopatra.Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:I go with such a will to find my lord,That we shall quickly meet.A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,And now ’tis at my head: my eyelids fall,And my dear love is vanquished in a mist.Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,And lay me on his breast! Cæsar, thy worst;Now part us, if thou canst.[Dies.[Iras sinks down at her feet, and dies; Charmion stands behind her chair, as dressing her head.
(Antony is lying dead on the stage; Charmion and Iras, the Queen’s two handmaidens, are in attendance on her.)
Charmion.To what end
These ensigns of your pomp and royalty?
Cleopatra.Dull that thou art! Why, ’tis to meet my love;
As when I saw him first, on Cydnos’ bank,
All sparkling, like a goddess....
Haste, haste, both,
And dress the bride of Antony.
Charmion.’Tis done.
Cleopatra.Now seat me by my lord; I claim this place....
Reach me the casket.
Iras.Underneath the fruit
The aspic lies.
Cleopatra.Welcome, thou kind deceiver!
[Putting aside the leaves.
Thou best of thieves, who with an easy key
Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,
Even steal us from ourselves....
Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent’s fury.
[Holds out her arm, and draws it back.
Coward flesh,
Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,
As thou wert none of mine? I’ll force thee to it,
And not be sent by him,
But bring, myself, my soul to Antony.
[Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody.
Take hence; the work is done....
Charmion.The next is ours.
Iras.Now, Charmion, to be worthy
Of our great queen and mistress.
[They apply the aspics.
Cleopatra.Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:
I go with such a will to find my lord,
That we shall quickly meet.
A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,
And now ’tis at my head: my eyelids fall,
And my dear love is vanquished in a mist.
Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,
And lay me on his breast! Cæsar, thy worst;
Now part us, if thou canst.[Dies.
[Iras sinks down at her feet, and dies; Charmion stands behind her chair, as dressing her head.
After the Revolution he wroteDon Sebastian(1690),Cleomenes(1691), andLove Triumphant(1694). The last was a tragi-comedy and a failure. The other two, however, were quite up to the average of his plays. In addition, at various stages of his career he collaborated with Lee in two other tragedies, and attempted, with lamentable results, to improve upon Shakespeare’sTempestandTroilus and Cressida.
4. His Prose.Dryden’s versatility is apparent when we observe that in prose, as well as in poetry and drama, he attains to primacy in his generation. In the case of prose he has one rival, John Bunyan. No single item of Dryden’s prose work is of very great length; but in hisEssay of Dramatic Poesie(1668), in his numerous dedicatory epistles and prefaces, and in the scanty stock of his surviving letters we have a prosecorpusof some magnitude. The general subject of his prose is literary criticism, and that of a sane and vigorous quality. The style is free, but not too free; there are slips of grammar, but they are not many. TheEssay of Dramatic Poesieis his longest single prose work. It is cast into dialogue form, in which four characters, one of whom is Dryden himself, discuss such well-worked themes as ancientsversusmoderns and blank verseversusrhyme. Studded throughout the book are passages of rare ability, one of which is the following, which illustrates not only his prose style, but also his acute perception of literary values:
To begin, then, with Shakespeare. He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily; when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation. He was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets,Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.Virg.,Ecl., i, 26
To begin, then, with Shakespeare. He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily; when he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation. He was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets,
Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.
Virg.,Ecl., i, 26
In comedy alone Dryden showed a certain incapacity; his mind seemed to be too rugged and unresilient to catch the sharper moods of the current wit. Fortunately this weakness of his was atoned for by the activities of a brilliant group of dramatists who made Restoration comedy a thing apart in English literature.
The new comedy, of a slower growth than the new heroic play, owed much of its inspiration to French comedy. It marked a new stage in the civilization of England. The plays of the Shakespearian era were beginning to be thought out of date. In his diary Evelyn notes that “the old plays begin to disgust this refined age.” Though the age was no doubt refined in certain respects, it was also decadent, and this decadent spirit is reflected in its comedy.
The novel features of the type are:
(a) The theme is mainly of courtiers and their class, their vices and affectations, their love-intrigues and money-grabbing. The characters are still to a great extent those of the “humorsome” quality so common in the time of Jonson. Their names reveal their dispositions: Sir Fopling Flutter; Scrub (a servant); Colonel Bully; Sir JohnBrute; Squire Sullen; Gibbet (a highwayman); Lady Bountiful. Such characters as these are involved in plots of great and unnatural complication, with much bustle and unlimited love-intrigue. In rare cases, as in some of the plays of Shadwell, the characters are much more human and the conditions more natural; and then we obtain deeply interesting glimpses of the habits of the time. But in general the whole atmosphere of the comedies is artificial and unreal.
(b) The prevailing love-theme is treated in a characteristic fashion which is fortunately rare in English. It is not handled coarsely; indeed, the age shows a ridiculous squeamishness at the grosser forms of vice; but it is handled with a cool licentiousness and a vicious pleasure that are often exceedingly clever, but always repulsive. It is art, but art of a perverted kind.
(c) The style of the comedy suits the treatment. It is prose of a neat and brilliant kind: deft and forcible, clean-cut and precise. The style of Congreve, a specimen of which is given below, is a model of its kind.
William Congreve (1670–1729).Though Congreve is not the first in time, he is probably the first in merit among the comedy-writers. He had a long life, but a glance at the table at the head of the chapter will show that only a short period of his life was productive of literary work. His plays were produced between 1693 and 1700. The last play was not successful, and repeated attacks were forthcoming upon his defects, so he wrote no more.
His first comedy wasThe Old Bachelor(1693); then cameThe Double Dealer(1693 or 1694),Love for Love(1695), andThe Way of the World(1700). In 1697 he produced one tragedy,The Mourning Bride, which had no success. The earlier plays have a slight touch of seriousness, which is rarer still in the later comedies.
All are marked by the same features. The characters are numerous, brilliant, and sharply defined. In each case, however, they are too one-sided to be real; but they fulfill their purpose in the plays. The plots are full of scandalousnotions delicately adumbrated; and the style is as keen and deadly as a sharp sword.
The following is a passage fromThe Way of the World. Two gentleman are backbiting an acquaintance.
Fainall.He comes to town in order to equip himself for travel.Mirabell.For travel! Why the man that I mean is above forty.Fainall.No matter for that; ’tis for the honour of England, that all Europe should know that we have blockheads of all ages.Mirabell.I wonder there is not an act of parliament to save the credit of the nation, and prohibit the exportation of fools.Fainall.By no means, ’tis better as ’tis; ’tis better to trade with a little loss, than to be quite eaten up with being overstocked.Mirabell.Pray, are the follies of this knight-errant, and those of the squire his brother, anything related?Fainall.Not at all; Witwoud grows by the knight, like a medlar grafted on a crab. One will melt in your mouth, and t’other set your teeth on edge; one is all pulp, and the other all core.Mirabell.So one will be rotten before he be ripe, and the other will be rotten without ever being ripe at all.
Fainall.He comes to town in order to equip himself for travel.
Mirabell.For travel! Why the man that I mean is above forty.
Fainall.No matter for that; ’tis for the honour of England, that all Europe should know that we have blockheads of all ages.
Mirabell.I wonder there is not an act of parliament to save the credit of the nation, and prohibit the exportation of fools.
Fainall.By no means, ’tis better as ’tis; ’tis better to trade with a little loss, than to be quite eaten up with being overstocked.
Mirabell.Pray, are the follies of this knight-errant, and those of the squire his brother, anything related?
Fainall.Not at all; Witwoud grows by the knight, like a medlar grafted on a crab. One will melt in your mouth, and t’other set your teeth on edge; one is all pulp, and the other all core.
Mirabell.So one will be rotten before he be ripe, and the other will be rotten without ever being ripe at all.
1. William Wycherley (1640–1715).The productive period of Wycherley’s life was brief but fruitful. He produced four plays in five years:Love in a Wood(1672),The Gentleman Dancing Master(1673),The Country Wife(1675), andThe Plain Dealer(1677). He was a man of good family, and he was at Court, where he seems to have been no better than the average courtier of his time.
His contemporaries call his plays “manly.” By this they probably refer to a boisterous indecency that riots through his comedies, in which nearly every person is a fool, and every clever man a rogue and a rake. He is much coarser in the grain than Congreve, and cannot keep his work at such a high level. Yet he shows much wit in handling dialogue, and has a sharp, though distorted, vision for human weaknesses.
2. George Etheredge (1635–91).Not much is known regarding the life of Etheredge; but he appears to have been a courtier, and to have served abroad. If all storiesabout him are true, he had an ample share of the popular vices. He is said to have been killed by tumbling downstairs while drunk. His three plays areThe Comical Revenge, or Love in a Tub(1664),She Would if She Could(1668), andThe Man of Mode(1676). They are more uneven than Wycherley’s, and at their worst are grosser; but they are clever, and can be lively and amusing.
3. Sir John Vanbrugh (1666–1726).Vanbrugh’s career, though much of it is obscure, seems to have been a varied one, for at different times he was a soldier, a herald, and an architect. His best three comedies areThe Relapse(1697),The Provoked Wife(1698), andThe Confederacy(1705).
In the general opinion Vanbrugh is held to be a good second to Congreve, but his plays are exceedingly unequal. His wit is rather more genial than is common at this time, and sometimes his touch is firm and sure.
4. Thomas Shadwell (1640–92).Dryden’s abuse of Shadwell has given the latter a notoriety that he scarcely deserves. Little is known about his life except that he was created Poet Laureate at the deposition of Dryden in 1688. He wrote many plays, some of which were popular in their day. The best three areThe Sullen Lovers(1668),The Squire of Alsatia(1688), andBury Fair(1689).
Shadwell is coarse without being clever to atone for it. His characters are often wooden and unreal, but he has the knack of laying his hand on good material. HisSquire of Alsatiais full of interesting information about the life of the time, and Scott drew largely upon it forThe Fortunes of Nigel.
5. George Farquhar (1678–1707).He had an adventurous career, was in turn a clergyman, an actor, and a soldier, and died when he was thirty years old. The pathos of his early death has given him a fame of its own. He wrote seven plays, the best of which are the last two, viz.,The Recruiting Officer(1706) andThe Beaux’ Stratagem(1707).
Farquhar comes late among the Restoration dramatists, and by this time the cynical immorality of the age seemsto have worn thin. His temper is certainly more genial, and his wit, though it has lapses, is more decorous.The Beaux’ Stratagem(see pp.225–6) is a lively and ingenious comedy with a cleverly engineered plot.
With regard to tragedy, Dryden is amply representative of his age. The period is less rich in tragedy than it is in comedy, for several reasons. (a) The spirit of the time was too irresponsible and vivacious to provide a healthy breeding-ground for this type of play. (b) The average poetical standard was not high; and tragedy of a superior type needs a high level of poetic merit. (c) There was a lack of fresh models, the tragedians being dependent on the Elizabethan plays (which were not popular), and on the classical French tragedies. Yet there are a few tragedians who deserve a brief mention.
1. Thomas Otway (1651–85).As was so often the case with the dramatists of the time, Otway had a varied and troubled career, closed with a miserable death. His first play,Alcibiades, was produced about 1675; then followedDon Carlos(1676),The Orphan(1680), and his masterpiece,Venice Preserved(1682).
Venice Preserved(see p.226) for long held the reputation of being the best tragedy outside Shakespeare, and that reputation has kept it in the forefront. It shows his work at its best. It has a rugged and somber force, and reveals a considerable skill in working out a dramatic situation. But Otway tends to lay on the horrors too thickly; his style is unreliable, and his comic passages are farce of the coarsest kind. If he is second to Shakespeare, he is a very bad second.
2. Nathaniel Lee (1653–92).Lee’s life is the usual tale of mishaps, miseries, and drunkenness, with a taint of madness as an additional calamity. He wrote many tragedies, some of which areNero(1673),Sophonisba(1676),The Rival Queens(1677), andMithridates(1678). Healso collaborated with Dryden in the production of two plays.
During his own time Lee’s name became a byword to distinguish a kind of wild, raving style, which in part at least seems to have been a product of his madness. But he can write well when the spirit is in him; he has a command of pathos, and all through his work he has touches of real poetic quality.
3. Elkanah Settle (1648–1724).Settle was in some ways the butt of his literary friends, and Dryden has given him prominence by attacking him in his satires. In his day he obtained some popularity with a heroic play,The Empress of Morocco(1673). It is a poor specimen of its kind, but his other dramas are worse.
4. John Crowne (1640–1703).Crowne is another of the dramatists who attacked Dryden and who were in turn assailed by the bigger man. A voluminous playwright, Crowne’s best-known works are the tragedies ofCaligula(1698), a heroic play, andThyestes, in blank verse, and a comedy,Sir Courtly Nice(1685). Crowne is quite a good specimen of the average Restoration dramatist. The plays show considerable talent and a fair amount of skill in versification.
5. Nicholas Rowe (1674–1718).During his lifetime Rowe was a person of some importance, and was made Poet Laureate in 1714. His best-known plays areTamerlane(1702),The Fair Penitent(1703), and the popularJane Shore(1714). Johnson says of him, “His reputation comes from the reasonableness of some of his scenes, the elegance of his diction, and the suavity of his verse.”
Samuel Butler (1612–80).Besides Dryden and the tragedy-writers the only considerable poet of the period is Samuel Butler, and his fame rests on one work,Hudibras.
As a middle-aged man Butler saw the rough and tumble of the Civil War, and was nearly fifty when the Restoration occurred. He seems to have been of humble birth andto have served as a kind of superior menial in a number of noble households. In the course of these several occupations he acquired the varied knowledge that he was to put to good use in his poem. In 1663 he publishedHudibras, which was at once a success. Two other parts followed in 1664 and 1678 respectively.
Hudibraswas topical, for it was a biting satire on the Puritans, who were the reverse of popular when the King returned. In general outline it is modeled upon the adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, who find their respective parallels in Sir Hudibras and his squire Ralpho. Sir Hudibras is a Puritan knight who undergoes many absurd adventures; but the poem lacks the real pathos and genuine insight of its great Spanish original. It is wholly, almost spitefully, satirical. The poem is composed artfully. The adventures are well chosen in order to throw the greatest amount of ridicule on the maladroit hero; the humor, though keen and caustic, is never absolutely brutal in expression; there is a freakish spattering of tropes and a mock-solemn parade of scholastic learning; and (a feature that added immeasurably to its success) it is cast in an odd jigging octosyllabic couplet. This meter ofHudibrasis remarkable. It is varied and yet uniform, and it carries the tale with an easy relish. Though it is sometimes almost doggerel, it has always a kind of distinction, and each couplet is clenched with an ingenious rhyme that is the most amusing feature of all.
He was in logic a great critic,Profoundly drilled in analytic;He could distinguish, and divideA hair ’twixt south and south-west side;On either which he would dispute,Confute, change hands, and still confute;He’d undertake to prove by forceOf argument a man’s no horse;He’d prove a buzzard is no fowl,And that a lord may be an owl—A calf, an alderman—a goose, a justice—And rooks, committee-men and trustees.He’d run in debt by disputation,And pay with ratiocination:All this by syllogism, trueIn mood and figure, he would do.For rhetoric, he could not opeHis mouth but out there flew a trope;And when he happened to break offI’ th’ middle of his speech, or cough,H’ had hard words, ready to show why.And tell what rules he did it by:Else, when with greatest art he spoke,You’d think he talked like other folk;For all a rhetorician’s rulesTeach nothing but to name his tools.
He was in logic a great critic,Profoundly drilled in analytic;He could distinguish, and divideA hair ’twixt south and south-west side;On either which he would dispute,Confute, change hands, and still confute;He’d undertake to prove by forceOf argument a man’s no horse;He’d prove a buzzard is no fowl,And that a lord may be an owl—A calf, an alderman—a goose, a justice—And rooks, committee-men and trustees.He’d run in debt by disputation,And pay with ratiocination:All this by syllogism, trueIn mood and figure, he would do.For rhetoric, he could not opeHis mouth but out there flew a trope;And when he happened to break offI’ th’ middle of his speech, or cough,H’ had hard words, ready to show why.And tell what rules he did it by:Else, when with greatest art he spoke,You’d think he talked like other folk;For all a rhetorician’s rulesTeach nothing but to name his tools.
He was in logic a great critic,Profoundly drilled in analytic;He could distinguish, and divideA hair ’twixt south and south-west side;On either which he would dispute,Confute, change hands, and still confute;He’d undertake to prove by forceOf argument a man’s no horse;He’d prove a buzzard is no fowl,And that a lord may be an owl—A calf, an alderman—a goose, a justice—And rooks, committee-men and trustees.
He was in logic a great critic,
Profoundly drilled in analytic;
He could distinguish, and divide
A hair ’twixt south and south-west side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute;
He’d undertake to prove by force
Of argument a man’s no horse;
He’d prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl—
A calf, an alderman—a goose, a justice—
And rooks, committee-men and trustees.
He’d run in debt by disputation,And pay with ratiocination:All this by syllogism, trueIn mood and figure, he would do.For rhetoric, he could not opeHis mouth but out there flew a trope;And when he happened to break offI’ th’ middle of his speech, or cough,H’ had hard words, ready to show why.And tell what rules he did it by:Else, when with greatest art he spoke,You’d think he talked like other folk;For all a rhetorician’s rulesTeach nothing but to name his tools.
He’d run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination:
All this by syllogism, true
In mood and figure, he would do.
For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth but out there flew a trope;
And when he happened to break off
I’ th’ middle of his speech, or cough,
H’ had hard words, ready to show why.
And tell what rules he did it by:
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You’d think he talked like other folk;
For all a rhetorician’s rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools.
1. John Bunyan (1628–88).In the domain of Restoration prose Bunyan alone contests the supremacy of Dryden. And Bunyan stands in a class by himself.
The main facts of his life are well known. He himself has given them an imperishable shape in hisGrace Abounding(1666), a kind of religious autobiography. Though the statements of this book need not be taken too literally, he seems to have misspent his youth. He draws a horrible picture of his own depravity; but as religious converts are well known to delight in depicting their original wickedness in the darkest colors, this need not be taken too seriously. He served as a soldier in the Civil War, and seems to have been no better than the ordinary soldier. Religious conversion came to him about 1656, saving him, according to his own account, from everlasting fire. In the flood of his new enlightenment he became a preacher, and, being unlicensed, was arrested. He was cast into Bedford jail, and remained there for twelve years (1660–72). He was released, and obtained a license; but this was canceled in 1675, and he was imprisoned for six months. Beginning with this latter period we have all his most famous works:The Pilgrim’s Progress(1677),The Life and Death of Mr. Badman(1680), andThe HolyWar(1682). He was eventually set at liberty, and spent his last years preaching in peace.
Except forGrace Abounding, all Bunyan’s major works are allegorical. In each case the allegory is worked out with ease, force, and clearness. Readers of all ages enjoy the narrative, while they follow the double meaning without an effort. The allegorical personages—for example, Mr. Worldly Wiseman, Mrs. Diffidence, Giant Despair, Madame Wanton, My Lord Hategood, Mr. Standfast—are fresh and apt, and are full of an intense interest and a raw dramatic energy. Their individual adventures combine and react with a variety that keeps the story from monotony, and yet the simple idea of a forward journey is never lost. The plot, working upon the fortunes of the different characters, gives us the nearest approach to the pure novel that had so far been effected. The numerous natural descriptions are simply done, but they are full of a great unspoilt ability. Lastly, Bunyan’s style is unique in prose. Though it is undoubtedly based upon the great Biblical models, it is quite individual. It is homely, but not vulgar; strong, but not coarse; equable, but not monotonous; it is sometimes humorous, but it is never ribald; rarely pathetic, but never sentimental. It has remained the pattern of a plain style, and is one of the masterpieces of the English language.
The following extract gives us an idea of Bunyan’s narrative and descriptive power, and is a fair specimen of his masculine prose: