John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Dryden’s political and polemic discussions naturally interfered at this period with his more general poetical studies. About the period of James’s accession, Tonson had indeed published a second volume of Miscellanies, to which our poet contributed a critical preface, with various translations from Virgil, Lucretius, and Theocritus and four Odes of Horace; of which the third of the First Book is happily applied to Lord Roscommon, and the twenty-ninth to Lawrence Hyde, Earl of Rochester. Upon these and his other translations Garth has the following striking and forcible observations, though expressed in language somewhat quaint. “I cannot pass by that admirable English poet, without endeavouring to make his country sensible of the obligations they have to his Muse. Whether they consider the flowing grace of his versification, the vigorous sallies of his fancy, or the peculiar delicacy of his periods, they all discover excellencies never to be enough admired. If they trace him from the first productions of his youth to the last performances of his age, they will find, that as the tyranny of rhyme never imposed on the perspicuity of sense, so a languid sense never wanted to be set off by the harmony of rhyme. And, as his early works wanted no maturity, so his latter wanted no force or spirit. The falling off of his hair had no other consequence than to make his laurels be seen the more.

  “As a translator, he was just; as an inventor, he was rich. His versions of some parts of Lucretius, Horace, Homer, and Virgil, throughout gave him a just pretence to that compliment which was made to Monsieur d’Ablancourt, a celebrated French translator. It is uncertain who have the greatest obligation to him, the dead or the living.

  “With all these wondrous talents, he was libelled, in his lifetime, by the very men who had no other excellencies but as they were his imitators Where he was allowed to have sentiments superior to all others, they charged him with theft. But how did he steal? no otherwise than like those who steal beggars’ children, only to clothe them the better.”

  In this reign Dryden wrote the first Ode to St. Cecilia, for her festival, in 1687. This and the Ode to the Memory of Mrs. Anne Killigrew, a performance much in the manner of Cowley, and which has been admired perhaps fully as much as it merits, were the only pieces of general poetry which he produced between the accession of James and the Revolution. It was, however, about this time, that the poet became acquainted with the simple and beautiful hymns of the Catholic ritual, the only pieces of uninspired sacred poetry which are worthy of the purpose to which they are dedicated. It is impossible to hear the “Dies Iræ;” or the “Stabat Mater dolorosa,” without feeling, that the stately simplicity of the language, differing almost as widely from classical poetry as from that of modern nations, awes the congregation, like the architecture of the Gothic cathedrals in which they are chanted. The ornaments which are wanting to these striking effusions of devotion, are precisely such as would diminish their grand and solemn effect; and nothing but the cogent and irresistible propriety of addressing the Divinity in a language understood by the whole worshipping assembly, could have justified the discarding these magnificent hymns from the reformed worship. We must suppose that Dryden, as a poet, was interested in the poetical part of the religion which he had chosen; and his translation of “Veni, Creator Spiritus,” which was probably recommended to him as being the favourite hymn of St. Francis Xavier, shows that they did so. But it is less generally known, that the English Catholics have preserved two other translations ascribed to Dryden; one of the “Te Deum,” the other of the hymn for St. John’s Eve; with which the public are here, for the first time, presented, as the transcripts with which I have been favoured reached me too late to be inserted in the poet’s works. I think most of my readers will join with me in opinion, that both their beauties and faults are such as ascertain their authenticity.

  THE TE DEUM.

  Thee, Sovereign God, our grateful accents praise;

  We own thee Lord, and bless thy wondrous ways;

  To thee, Eternal Father, earth’s whole frame

  With loudest trumpets sounds immortal fame.

  Lord God of Hosts! for thee the heavenly powers,

  With sounding anthems, fill the vaulted towers.

  Thy Cherubims thee Holy, Holy, Holy, cry;

  Thrice Holy, all the Seraphims reply,

  And thrice returning echoes endless songs supply.

  Both heaven and earth thy majesty display;

  They owe their beauty to thy glorious ray.

  Thy praises fill the loud apostles’ quire:

  The train of prophets in the song conspire.

  Legions of martyrs in the chorus shine,

  And vocal blood with vocal music join.

  By these thy church, inspired by heavenly art,

  Around the world maintains a second part,

  And tunes her sweetest notes, O God, to thee,

  The Father of unbounded majesty;

  The Son, adored co-partner of thy seat,

  And equal everlasting Paraclete.

  Thou King of Glory, Christ, of the Most High,

  Thou co-eternal filial Deity;

  Thou who, to save the world’s impending doom,

  Vouchsafst to dwell within a virgin’s womb;

  Old tyrant Death disarmed, before thee flew

  The bolts of heaven, and back the foldings drew,

  To give access, and make thy faithful way;

  From God’s right hand thy filial beams display.

  Thou art to judge the living and the dead;

  Then spare those souls for whom thy veins have bled.

  O take us up amongst thy bless’d above,

  To share with them thy everlasting love.

  Preserve, O Lord! thy people, and enhance

  Thy blessing on thine own inheritance.

  For ever raise their hearts, and rule their ways,

  Each day we bless thee, and proclaim thy praise;

  No age shall fail to celebrate thy name,

  No hour neglect thy everlasting fame.

  Preserve our souls, O Lord, this day from ill;

  Have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy still:

  As we have hoped, do thou reward our pain;

  We’ve hoped in thee — let not our hope be vain.

  HYMN FOR ST. JOHN’S EVE.

  (29th June.)

  O sylvan prophet! whose eternal fame

  Echoes from Judah’s hills and Jordan’s stream;

  The music of our numbers raise,

  And tune our voices to thy praise.

  A messenger from high Olympus came

  To bear the tidings of thy life and name,

  And told thy sire each prodigy

  That Heaven designed to work in thee.

  Hearing the news, and doubting in surprise,

  His falt’ring speech in fettered accent dies;

  But Providence, with happy choice,

  In thee restored thy father’s voice.

  In the recess of Nature’s dark abode,

  Though still enclosed, yet knewest thou thy God;

  Whilst each glad parent told and blessed

  The secrets of each other’s breast.

  A characteristic of James’s administration was rigid economy, not only in ordinary matters, but towards his own partisans; — a wretched quality in a prince, who was attempting a great and unpopular revolution both in religion and politics, and ought, by his liberality, and even profusion, to have attached the hearts and excited the hopes of those fiery and unsettled spirits, who are ever foremost in times of national tumult. Dryden, one of his most efficient and zealous supporters, and who had taken the step which of all others was calculated to please James, received only, as we have seen, after the interval of nearly a year from that prince’s accession, an addition of £100 to his yearly pension. There may, however, on occasion of “The Hind and the Panther,” the controversy with Stillingfleet, and other works undertaken with an express view to the royal interest, have been private communications of James’s favour. But Dryden, always ready to supply with hope the
deficiency of present possession, went on his literary course rejoicing. A lively epistle to his friend Etherege, then envoy for James at Ratisbon, shows the lightness and buoyancy of his spirits at this supposed auspicious period.

  An event, deemed of the utmost and most beneficial importance to the family of Stuart, but which, according to their usual ill-fortune, helped to precipitate their ruin, next called forth the public gratulation of the poet-laureate. This was the birth of that “son of prayers” prophesied in the dedication to Xavier, whom the English, with obstinate incredulity, long chose to consider as an impostor, grafted upon the royal line to the prejudice of the Protestant succession. Dryden’s “Britannia Rediviva” hailed, with the enthusiasm of a Catholic and a poet, the very event which, removing all hope of succession in the course of nature, precipitated the measures of the Prince of Orange, exhausted the patience of the exasperated people, and led them violently to extirpate a hated dynasty, which seemed likely to be protracted by a new reign. The merits of the poem have been considered in the introductory remarks prefixed in this edition.

  Whatever hopes Dryden may have conceived in consequence of “The Hind and the Panther,” “Britannia Rediviva,” and other works favourable to the cause of James and of his religion, they were suddenly and for ever blighted by the REVOLUTION. It cannot be supposed that the poet viewed without anxiety the crisis while yet at a distance; and perhaps his own tale of the Swallows may have begun to bear, even to the author, the air of a prophecy. He is said, in an obscure libel, to have been among those courtiers who encouraged, by frequent visits, the camp on Hounslow Heath, upon which the king had grounded his hopes of subduing the contumacy of his subjects, and repelling the invasion of the Prince of Orange. If so, he must there have learned how unwilling the troops were to second their monarch in his unpopular and unconstitutional attempts; and must have sadly anticipated the event of a struggle between a king and his whole people. When this memorable catastrophe had taken place, our author found himself at once exposed to all the insult, calumny, and sarcasm with which a successful party in politics never fail to overwhelm their discomfited adversaries But, what he must have felt yet more severely, the unpopularity of his religion and principles rendered it not merely unsafe, but absolutely impossible, for him to make retaliation His powers of satire, at this period, were of no more use to Dryden than a sword to a man who cannot draw it; only serving to render the pleasure of insulting him more poignant to his enemies, and the necessity of passive submission more bitter to himself. Of the numerous satires, libels, songs, parodies, and pasquinades, which solemnised the downfall of Popery and of James, Dryden had not only some exclusively dedicated to his case, but engaged a portion, more or less, of almost every one which appeared. Scarce Father Petre, or the Papal envoy Adda, themselves, were more distinguished, by these lampoons, than the poet-laureate; the unsparing exertion of whose satirical powers, as well as his unrivalled literary pre-eminence, had excited a strong party against him among the inferior wits, whose political antipathy was aggravated by ancient resentment and literary envy. An extract from one of each kind may serve to show how very little wit was judged necessary by Dryden’s contemporaries to a successful attack upon him. Nor was the “pelting of this pitiless storm” of abusive raillery the worst evil to which our author was subjected. The religion which he professed rendered him incapable of holding any office under the new government, even if he could have bended his political principles to take the oaths to William and Mary. We may easily believe that Dryden’s old friend Dorset, now lord high-chamberlain, felt repugnance to vacate the places of poet-laureate and royal historiographer by removing the man in England most capable of filling them; but the sacrifice was inevitable. Dryden’s own feelings, on losing the situation of poet-laureate, must have been greatly aggravated by the selection of his despised opponent Shadwell as his successor; a scribbler whom, in “Mac-Flecknoe,” he had himself placed pre-eminent in the regions of dulness, being now, so far as royal mandate can arrange such precedence, raised in his stead as chief among English poets. This very remarkable coincidence has led several of Dryden’s biographers, and Dr. Johnson among others, to suppose, that the satire was actually written to ridicule Shadwell’s elevation to the honours of the laurel; though nothing is more certain than that it was published while Dryden was himself laureate, and could be hardly supposed to anticipate the object of his satire becoming his successor. Shadwell, however, possessed merits with King William, which were probably deemed by that prince of more importance than all the genius of Shakespeare, Milton, and Dryden if it could have been combined in one individual. He was a staunch Whig, and had suffered under the former government, being “silenced as a non-conforming poet;” the doors of the theatre closed against his plays; and, if he may himself be believed, even his life endangered, not only by the slow process of starving, but some more active proceeding of his powerful enemies. Shadwell, moreover, had not failed to hail the dawn of the Revolution by a congratulatory poem to the Prince of Orange, and to gratulate its completion by another inscribed to Queen Mary on her arrival. In every point of view, his principles, fidelity, and alacrity, claimed William’s countenance; he was presented to him by Dorset, not as the best poet, but as the most honest man, politically speaking, among the competitors; and accordingly succeeded to Dryden’s situation as poet-laureate and royal historiographer, with the appointment of £300 a year. Shadwell, as might have been expected, triumphed in his success over his great antagonist; but his triumph was expressed in strains which showed he was totally unworthy of it.

  Dryden, deprived by the Revolution of present possession and future hope, was now reduced to the same, or a worse situation, than he had occupied in the year of the Restoration, his income resting almost entirely upon his literary exertions, his expenses increased by the necessity of providing and educating his family, and the advantage of his high reputation perhaps more than counterbalanced by the popular prejudice against his religion and party. So situated, he patiently and prudently bent to the storm which he could not resist; and though he might privately circulate a few light pieces in favour of the exiled family, as the “Lady’s Song,” and the translation of Pitcairn’s beautiful Epitaph on the Viscount of Dundee, it seems certain that he made no formal attack on the government either in verse or prose. Those who imputed to him the satires on the Revolution, called “Suum Cuique,” and “Tarquin and Tullia,” did injustice both to his prudence and his poetry. The last, and probably both satires, were written by Mainwaring, who lived to be sorry for what he had done.

  The theatre again became Dryden’s immediate resource. Indeed, the very first play Queen Mary attended was one of our poet’s, which had been prohibited during the reign of James II. But the revival of the “Spanish Friar” could afford but little gratification to the author, whose newly-adopted religion is so severely satirised in the person of Father Dominic. Nor was this ill-fated representation doomed to afford more pleasure to the personage by whom it was appointed. For the audience applied the numerous passages, concerning the deposing the old king and planting a female usurper on the throne, to the memorable change which had just taken place; and all eyes were fixed upon Queen Mary, with an expression which threw her into extreme confusion.

  Dryden, after the Revolution, began to lay the foundation for a new structure of fame and popularity in the tragedy of “Don Sebastian.” This tragedy, which has been justly regarded as the chef-d’oeuvre of his plays, was not, he has informed us, “huddled up in haste.” The author knew the circumstances in which he stood, while, as he expresses it, his ungenerous enemies were taking advantage of the times to ruin his reputation; and was conscious, that the full exertion of his genius was necessary to secure a favourable reception from an audience prepossessed against him and his tenets. Nor did he neglect to smooth the way, by inscribing the piece to the Earl of Leicester, brother of Algernon Sidney, who had borne arms against Charles in the civil war; and yet, Whig or republican as he was, h
ad taste and feeling enough to patronise the degraded laureate and proscribed Catholic. The dedication turns upon the philosophical and moderate use of political victory, the liberality of considering the friend rather than the cause, the dignity of forgiving and relieving the fallen adversary; themes, upon which the eloquence of the suffering party is usually unbounded although sometimes forgotten when they come again into power. With all this deprecatory reasoning, Dryden does not recede, or hint at receding, one inch from his principles, but concludes his preface with a resolution to adopt the counsel of the classic:

  “Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.”