XXXVII.
His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest;[29] His name a great example stands, to show, How strangely high endeavours may be blessed, Where piety and valour jointly go.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 9: Note I.]
[Footnote 10: Note II.]
[Footnote 11: Note III.]
[Footnote 12: Note IV.]
[Footnote 13: Note V.]
[Footnote 14: Note VI.]
[Footnote 15: Note VII.]
[Footnote 16: Note VIII.]
[Footnote 17: Note IX.]
[Footnote 18: Note X.]
[Footnote 19: To which deity the Romans usually sacrificed before marching to war, according to an ancient institution of Romulus.]
[Footnote 20: Note XI.]
[Footnote 21: Note XII.]
[Footnote 22: Note XIII.]
[Footnote 23: The author seems to allude to the old proverb, "_Sapiens dominabitur astris_." The influence of the stars yielded reluctantly to Cromwell's heroic virtues, as the commons submit sullenly to be taxed.]
[Footnote 24: Note XIV.]
[Footnote 25: Note XV.]
[Footnote 26: Note XVI.]
[Footnote 27: Note XVII.]
[Footnote 28: Note XVIII.]
[Footnote 29: Note XIX.]
NOTES
ON
HEROIC STANZAS.
Note I.
_And now 'tis time; for their officious haste, Who would before have borne him to the sky, Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly._--St. I. p. 8.
Cromwell's disease, a fever and tertian ague, was accompanied by fits of swooning, which occasioned, more than once, a premature report of his death. It was probably this circumstance, which made some of his fanatical chaplains doubt the fact, after it had actually taken place. "Say not he is dead," exclaimed one of them, like Omar over the corpse of Mahomet; "for, if ever the Lord heard my prayers, he has assured me of the life of the Protector." The two last lines of the stanza allude to the Roman custom of letting an eagle fly from the funeral pile of a deceased emperor, which represented his spirit soaring to the regions of bliss, or his guardian genius convoying it thither. It is described at length in the fourth book of Herodian, who says, that, after this ceremony of consecration, the deceased emperor was enrolled among the Roman deities.
Note II.
_Fortune, (that easy mistress to the young, But to her ancient servants coy and hard,) Him at that age her favourites ranked among, When she her best-loved Pompey did discard._--St. VIII. p. 9.
Cromwell was upwards of forty before he made any remarkable figure; and Pompey, when he had attained the same period of life, was deserted by the good fortune which had accompanied his more early career.
Note III.
_Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, First sought to inflame the parties, then to poise: The quarrel loved, but did the cause abhor; And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise._--St. XI. p. 10.
Essex, Manchester, Sir William Waller, and the earlier generals of the Parliament, were all of the Presbyterian party, who, though they had drawn the sword against the king, had no will to throw away the scabbard. They were disposed so to carry on the war, that, neither party being too much weakened, a sound and honourable peace might have been accomplished on equal terms. But the Independants flew at higher game; and, as the more violent party usually prevail during times of civil discord, they attained their object. Cromwell openly accused the Earl of Manchester of having refused to put an end to the war, after the last battle at Newbury, when a single charge upon the King's rear might have dissipated his army for ever. "I offered," he averred, "to perform the work with my own brigade of horse; let Manchester and the rest look on, if they thought fit: but he obstinately refused to permit the attempt, alleging, that, if the king's army was beaten, he would find another; but if that of the Parliament was overthrown, there would be an end of their cause, and they would be all punished as traitors." This suspicion of the compromising temper of the Presbyterian leaders, led to the famous _self-denying ordinance_, by which all members of both houses were declared incapable of holding a military command. By this new model, all the power of the army was thrown, nominally, into the hands of Fairfax, but, really and effectually, into that of Cromwell, who was formally excepted from the operation of the act, and of the Independants; men determined to push the war to extremity, and who at length triumphed over both King and Parliament.
Note IV.
_He fought to end our fighting, and essayed To staunch the blood, by breathing of the vein._--St. XII. p. 10.
This passage, which seems to imply nothing farther than that Cromwell conducted the war so as to push it to a conclusion, was afterwards invidiously interpreted by Dryden's enemies, as containing an explicit approbation of the execution of Charles I.
Thus, in the panegyric quoted in the introductory remarks to this poem,
Such wonders have thy powerful raptures shewn, Pythagoras' transmigration thou'st outdone; His souls of heroes and great chiefs expired, Down into birds and noble beasts retired: But then to savages and monsters dire, Canst infuse sparks even of celestial fire; Make treason glory, murderers heroes live, And even to regicides canst godhead give. Thus in thy songs the yet warm bloody dart, Fresh reeking in a martyred monarch's heart, Burnished by verse, and polished by thy lines, The rubies in imperial crowns outshines; Whilst in applause to that sad day's success, So black a theme in so divine a dress, Thy soaring flights Prometheus' thefts excel, Whilst thou steal'st fire from heaven to enlighten hell.
The same accusation is urged in another libel, called "The Laureat:"
Nay, had our Charles, by Heaven's severe decree, Been found, and murdered in the royal tree, Even thou hadst praised the fact. His father slain, Thou call'dst but _gently breathing of a vein_. Impious and villainous, to bless the blow } That laid at once three lofty nations low, } And gave the royal cause a fatal overthrow! }
Another witling, to add to the heinousness of this expression, assures us, that Dryden had at first declared for the king, then for the parliament, and, finally, for Cromwell:
I for the Royal Martyr first declared, But, ere his head was off, I was prepared To own the Rump, and for that cause did rhime; But, those kicked out, next moment turned to him Who routed them: called him my sovereign, And praised his opening of the kingly vein.
_Dialogue in Bedlam between Oliver's Porter, Fidler, and Poet._
These are examples of the inveteracy, with which Dryden's enemies were ready to wrest his expressions from the common interpretation into one more strong and unwarrantable. Dryden, sufficiently embarrassed by the praises he had bestowed on the Usurper, a charge from which he could not vindicate himself, took no notice of the uncandid lengths to which it was carried.
Note V.
_He fought, secure of fortune as of fame, Till by new maps the island might be shewn; Of conquests, which he strewed where'er he came, Thick as the galaxy with stars is sown._--St. XIV. p. 10.
Notwithstanding the inconstancy of Victory during the civil war, she never deserted the banner of Cromwell. Even in undecided conflicts, the brigade, or wing, with which he fought, had always the superiority. The royalists never once saw him fly before them, during all the pitched battles in which he was engaged in England, Scotland, and Ireland.
Note VI.
_His palms, though under weights they did not stand, Still thrived._--St. XV. p. 10.
It was anciently a popular notion, that the palm-tree throve best when pressed down with weights. An old scholiast defines it as "_arbor nobilissima illa, quæ nulli cedit ponderi, sed contra assurgit et reluctatur_."--Fabri Thesaurus ad verbum _palma_.
Note VII.
_Bolognia's walls thus mounted in the air, To seat themselves more surely than before._--St. XVI. p. 11.
This odd simile is borrowed from a very singular, and somewhat dubious event, said to have happened during the siege of Bologna in 1512. A mine had been run by the Spanish besieging army under a part of the wall, on which was built a chapel dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. Upon the explosion, the chapel and portion of the wall which formed its support were heaved into the air, so high, that (in spite of all the smoke and dust accompanying such an eruption) an elegant historian assures us, the besiegers could see, through the vacant space, the buildings of the town, and the defenders ready to man the breach. Nevertheless, the chapel and fragment of wall descended so exactly into the space they had formerly occupied, that the breach was completely and accurately repaired. The chapel acquired by this incident a great reputation for miraculous sanctity. The event is more fully narrated in the following passage of the original:
"_Finita in ultimo la mina, e stando l'esercito armato per dare incontinente la battaglia, la quale perchè si desse con maggiori forze, era stata richiamata l'antiguardia, fece il Navarra dare il fuoco alla mina; la quale con grandissimo impeto, e romore gittò talmente in alto la cappella, che per quello spatio, che rimase tra'l terreno, e'l muro gittato in alto, fu da quelli, ch' erano fuora, veduta apertamente la città dentro, et i soldati che stavano preparati per difenderla; ma subito scendendo in giừ ritornò il muro intero nel luogo medesimo, onde la violentia del fuoco l'areva sbarrato, e si ricongiunse insieme, come se mai non fusse stato mosso: onde si non si potendo assaltare da quella parte, i capitani giudicurono non si dovere dare solamente dall' altra. Attribuirono questo caso i Bolognesi a miracolo, riputando impossibile, che, senza l'ajutorio divino, fusse potuto riconguignersi cosi appunto ne' medesimi fondamenti; onde fu dipoi ampliata quella cappella, e frequentata con non piccola divotione del popolo._" L'Istoria di Guicciardini, Libro Decimo.
Note VIII.
_Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes._--St. XVII. p. 11.
The gallant Ormond, who commanded for the king in Ireland, had reduced the island almost entirely under the royal authority, excepting the cities of Dublin and Londonderry, when the arrival of Cromwell, appointed lord governor by the parliament, entirely changed the scene. In less than ten months, that fated general over-ran the whole kingdom. Tredagh he took by storm; and such terror was struck into the minds of the Irish, by the bloody execution attending and following that assault, that almost all the other garrisons surrendered without resistance, or revolted to the parliament.
Note IX.
----_Treacherous Scotland, to no interest true, Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose Her land to civilize, as to subdue._--St. XVII. p. 11.
Cromwell's wars in Scotland form a brilliant part of his history. After narrowly escaping the snares of the veteran Lesley, whose admirable manœuvres compelled him, with woeful anticipations of farther misfortune, to retreat towards Dunbar, he was enabled, by the rashness of the Scottish kirkmen, totally to defeat that fine army. Edinburgh castle next surrendered; and the war being carried across the Forth, the Scots were again routed with slaughter at Inverkeithing. Then followed the irruption of the king into England, and the fatal defeat at Worcester, which Cromwell used to call his "crowning mercy."
Scotland is here called treacherous, because, having been the first to take up arms against King Charles I. she was the last to lay them down in behalf of his son; or rather, because the Presbyterian party in that country joined the young King against the Independants, as they had joined the Parliament against the Prelatists: for, the war, which in England related chiefly to dissentions concerning the Civil government, was in Scotland entirely to be referred to religious controversy.
Cromwell certainly did much to civilize Scotland. Some of his benefits were intentionally conferred, others flowed indirectly from the measures he adopted for the consolidation of his own authority. The English judges, whom he appointed, introduced into the administration of justice a purity and vigour, with which Scotland had been hitherto unacquainted.[30] By the impoverishment, exile, and annihilation of the principal baronial families, the chains of feudal bondage were lightened upon the peasantry; and the pay of 18,000 men, levied to maintain the constituted authorities, enriched the lower orders, amongst whom it was spent. The English soldiers also introduced into Scotland some of the arts of a more civilized country. We may, however, hesitate to believe, that they taught the citizens of Aberdeen to make shoes and plant kail; because Dr Johnson, upon whose authority the tradition is given, informs us, that the peasantry live upon that vegetable alone, and that, when they had not kail, they probably had nothing; in which case, the English military guests had better have learned from their Aberdonian hosts the art of living upon nothing, than taught them a branch of gardening which their habits of abstinence rendered totally superfluous. But the garrisons established by Cromwell upon the skirts, and in the passes of the Highlands, restrained the predatory clans, and taught them, in no gentle manner, that respect for the property of their Lowland neighbours, which their lawful monarchs had vainly endeavoured to inculcate. An officer of engineers, quartered at Inverness shortly after 1720, says, that the name of Oliver still struck terror through the Highlands; and one very ancient laird declared to him, the appearance of the Protector's colours were so strongly impressed on his memory, that he still thought he saw them before his eyes, spread out by the wind, and bearing, in great golden characters, the word _Emanuel_.--_Letters from the North of Scotland_, Vol. I. p. 274.
Note X.
_As wands of divination downward draw, And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow._--St. XIX. p. 11.
The rod of divination, an admirable implement for a mineralogist, was a piece of forked hazel, which, being poised on the back of the hand, and so carried with great caution, inclined itself sympathetically to the earth, where mines or hidden treasures lay concealed beneath the surface. Derrick refers readers for further information concerning the properties of this marvellous rod, and the way of using it, to _La Physique Occultee, ou Traité de la Baguette Divinatoire_, published at Amsterdam, 1613.
Note XI.
_To suppliant Holland he vouchsafed a peace, Our once bold rival of the British main; Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease, And buy our friendship with her idol, gain._--St. XXI. p. 12.
The war betwixt the republics had been disastrous to the Dutch, and the peace of 1654 was degrading to the States, though not proportionally disadvantageous. They consented to desert the cause of the exiled Stuarts, and to punish the authors of the massacre at Amboyna; they yielded to the English the honour of the flag in the narrow seas; they agreed to pay to the East India Company eighty-five thousand pounds, in compensation of damage done to them; and they consented to the cession of the island of Polerone in the East Indies: lastly, by a secret article, the province of Holland guaranteed an assurance, that neither the young Prince of Orange, whose connection with the exiled family rendered him an object of the Protector's suspicion, nor any of his family, should be invested with the office of Stadtholder.
Note XII.
_No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embraced, Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweighed._--St. XXIII. p. 12.
In 1655, Cromwell allied himself with the rising power of France against the declining monarchy of Spain; less guided, probably, by any general views of political expedience, than by the consideration, that the American and West India settlements of the latter power lay open to assault from the English fleet; while, had he embraced the other side, his own dominions were exposed to an invasion from the exiled king, with French auxiliaries. The splendid triumphs of Blake gave some ground for the poetical flourishes in the text.
Note XIII.
_And, as the confident of Nature, saw How she complexions did divide and brew._--St. XXV. p. 12.
It was still fashionable, in the seventeenth century, to impute the distinguishing shades of human character to the influence of complexion. The doctrine is concisely summed up in the following lines, which occur in an old MS. in the British Museum:
With a red man rede thy rede, With a brown man break thy bread, On a pale man draw thy knife, From a black man keep thy wife.
Note XIV.
_He made us freemen of the continent, Whom nature did like captives treat before; To nobler preys the English lion sent, And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar._--St. XXIX. p. 13.
The poet alludes to the exertions of the six thousand British auxiliaries, whom Cromwell sent to join Marshal Turenne in Flanders. These veterans, seasoned to the desperate and close mode of fighting, which the inveteracy of civil war had introduced, astonished the French by their audacity, and their contempt of the usual military precautions and calculations. There is a curious account, by Sir Thomas Morgan, of their exploits at Dunkirk and Ypres, which occurs in the third volume of the Harleian Miscellany, p. 326. The Duke of York was then with the Spanish army; and Dryden, on the change of times, lived to celebrate him for his gallant opposition to that body, which he here personifies as the British Lion. See the Dedication of the "Conquest of Granada," Vol. IV. p. 11. The English were made "free-men of the continent" by the cession of Dunkirk; and it is believed, that this was the first step towards giving England a share in the partition of Flanders, when that strange project was disconcerted by the death of Cromwell. There was no avoiding allusion to the British Lion. Sprat has also sent him forth, seeking whom he may devour:
----From his eyes Made the same dreadful lightning rise, Made him again affright the neighbouring floods, His mighty thunder sound through all the woods.
Note XV.
_That old unquestioned pirate of the land, Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard; And, trembling, wished behind more Alps to stand, Although an Alexander were her guard._--St. XXX. p. 13.
The pope being called Alexander the Sixth, Dryden did not disdain to turn this stanza upon an allusion to the Macedonian hero; although it is obvious, that the pontiff was not a more effectual guardian to his city by bearing that warlike name, than if he had been called Benedict or Innocent. True it is, however, that the pope feared, and with great reason, some hostile attack from the powerful English squadron which swept the Mediterranean, under the command of Blake. Conscious that his papal character rendered him the object of the most inveterate enmity to the military saints of Cromwell's commonwealth, he had every reason to believe that they would find pride, pleasure, and profit, in attacking Antichrist, even in Babylon itself.
Note XVI.
_By his command we boldly crossed the line_, &c.--St. XXXI. p. 13.
A powerful army and squadron were sent by Cromwell, under the command of Penn and Venables, to attack Hispaniola. The commanders quarrelled, and the main design misgave: they took, however, the island of Jamaica, whose importance long remained unknown; for, notwithstanding the manner in which Dryden has glossed over these operations in the West Indies, they were at the time universally considered as having been unfortunate. See "The World's mistake in Oliver Cromwell."
Note XVII.
_Till he, pressed down by his own weighty name, Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease._--St. XXXIV. p. 14.
Tarpeia, the virgin who betrayed a gate of Rome to the Sabines, demanded, in recompense, what they wore on their left arms, meaning their golden bracelets. But the Sabines, detesting her treachery, or not disposed to gratify her avarice, chose to understand, that her request related to their bucklers, and flung them upon her in such numbers as to kill her.
Note XVIII.
_But first the ocean as a tribute sent The giant prince of all her watery herd; And the isle, when her protecting Genius went, Upon his obsequies loud sighs conferred._--St. XXXV. p. 14.
The circumstance, of the dreadful storm which happened on the day of Cromwell's death, is noticed by all writers. Many vessels were dashed on the coast, and trees and houses were overthrown, upon the land. It seemed as if that active spirit, which had rode in the whirlwind while he lived, could not depart without an universal convulsion of nature. Waller has touched upon this remarkable incident with great felicity:
We must resign; heaven his great soul does claim, In storms as loud as his immortal fame; His dying groans, his last breath, shakes our isle, And trees uncut fall for his funeral pile; About his palace their broad roots were tost Into the air:--so Romulus was lost; New Rome in such a tempest missed her king, And from obeying fell to worshipping.
But, while the authors of these threnodies explained this prodigious storm as attendant on the deification of the Protector, or at least the effects of the Genius of Britain's unbounded lamentation, the cavaliers unanimously agreed, that the tempest accompanied the transportation of his spirit to the infernal regions.
Note XIX.
_His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest._--St. XXXVII. p. 14.
This prophecy, like that announcing the final close of civil broils, in the preceding stanza, was not doomed to be accomplished. The contending factions resumed their struggles in a month after the Protector's death; his body was dragged from the burial place of princes, to be exposed on the gibbet; and his head placed on the end of Westminster Hall. There is, however, an unauthenticated story, that Cromwell, foreseeing the Restoration, had commanded his remains to be interred secretly, and by night, in the field of Naseby, as near as possible to the spot where his prowess had gained that bloody day; and that, by a piece of refined and ingenious malice, his friends caused the body of Charles to be deposited in the empty coffin, which had received the funeral honours rendered to the Protector; thus turning the disgrace, which the royalists intended for the body of Cromwell, upon that of the royal martyr. The story may be found in the Harleian Miscellany, Vol. II. p. 269. But it is unworthy of credit, and seems to have been grounded upon the circumstance, that Cromwell's body, being in a very corrupted state, was buried privately before the grand procession. The restoration of the house of Stuart seemed then to be an event much out of the reach of calculation, even to persons less sanguine than Cromwell.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 30: A principal evil, amongst the native Scottish judges, was a predilection for their own allies and kinsmen. A judge, who lived within the eighteenth century, justified this partiality for "kith, kin, and ally," by saying, "that, upon his conscience, he could never see any of his friends were in the _wrong_;" and the upright conduct of Cromwell's English judges being objected to him, he answered, "it was not wonderful, since they were a set of _kinless louns_ who had no family connections to bias them."]
ASTRÆA REDUX.
A POEM.
ASTRÆA REDUX.
A POEM.
After so many years of civil war and domestic tyranny, the Restoration, an almost hopeless event, established the crown upon the head of the lawful successor, and the government upon its original footing. Dryden, among the numerous, I had almost said innumerable, bards,[31] who celebrated, or attempted to celebrate, this surprising event, distinguished himself by the following poem, to which he has given the apt name of _Astræa Redux_, from the hopes of justice and liberty returning with the lawful king.
The tone of praise, which Dryden has adopted, exhibits his usual felicity. There do not here occur any of these rants about the antiquity of the royal line,[32] and the indefeasible right of the lawful successor, which are the common topics of the herd, who offered poetical congratulation to the restored monarch. Dryden rejoices with the chastised triumph of one, that had not forgot what it was to mourn. He looks back, as well as forwards; and it is upon the past sufferings of the people, and of the monarch, that he grounds the hope and expectation of their future happiness. The poet was perhaps sensible, that the claim of loyal merit was rather new in his family and person, and ought not therefore to be expressed with the extravagant colouring of the cavaliers. He ventures indeed upon prophecy, although past experience might have taught him it was dangerous ground. One prediction, however, has been (_magno licet intervallo_) accomplished to its fullest extent in our own age:
Your much-loved fleet shall, with a wide command, Besiege the petty monarchs of the land.
The poem exhibits the taste which belongs to the earlier class of Dryden's compositions, bearing the same marks of attachment to the stile of Waller and Davenant. Some of the similes are brought out with singular ingenuity. Nothing can be more elegant than the turn he gives to the slow, gentle, and almost imperceptible manner, in which the great change which he celebrates was accomplished:
---- ---- While we The effect did feel, but scarce the manner see. Frosts, that constrain the ground, and birth deny To flowers that in its womb expecting lie, Do seldom their usurping power withdraw, But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw; Our thaw was mild, the frost not chased away, But kindly lost in heat of lengthened day.
On the other hand, it is surely unnecessary to point out to the reader the confusion of metaphor, where Virtue is said to dress the wounds of Charles with laurels;[33] the impertinent antithesis of finding "light alone in dark afflictions;" and the extravagance of representing the winds, that wafted Charles, as out of breath with joy. These, and other outrageous flights of wit, have been noticed and blamed by Johnson. I am not certain whether that great critic is equally just, in severely censuring the passage in which there is a short allusion to Heathen mythology.[34] Where the tender, the passionate, or the sublime, ought to prevail, an allusion to classical fiction seldom fails to interrupt the tone of feeling which the author should seek to preserve; but in a poem, of which elegance of expression and ingenuity of device are the principal attributes, an allusion to the customs of Greece, or of Rome, while it gives a classic air to the composition, seems as little misplaced, as an apt quotation from the authors in which they are recorded.
The first edition of this poem is printed in folio by J. M. for Henry Herringman, 1660. It affords few and trifling corrections.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 31: There are all shapes and forms of poetical addresses upon this occasion, by clergymen, and scholars, and persons of honour. Among them, the verses by Waller are most celebrated; though inferior to those which he composed on the Protector's death. When Charles made this remark, the bard, with great felicity, reminded his Majesty, that poets always excel in fiction. Among other topics, he enlarges on the "tried virtue, and the sacred word," of the witty monarch. It is singular, that, of the three distinguished poets, who solemnized by elegy the death of the Protector, Dryden and Waller should have hailed the restoration of the Stuart line, and Sprat have favoured their most arbitrary aggressions upon liberty.]
[Footnote 32: In "A Poem to His Most Excellent Majesty, Charles the Second, _Ego beneficio tuo (Cæsar) quas ante audiebam hodie vidi Deos: Nec feliciorem ullum vitæ meæ aut optavi aut sensi Diem_, by H. Buston, _Winton_; together with another, by Hen. Bold, olim Winton," the royal genealogy is thus deduced from the primitive father of mankind:
On which side shall we trace your stock? beyond The loins of Egbert, or of Pharamond; Now sunk in Adam's entrails it is found, And thence shoots through the world to you all crowned. Vain boldness of the age (age of deceits), Knew this, and therefore coined Præ-Adamites. ]
[Footnote 33:
His wounds he took like laurels on his breast, Which by his virtue were with laurels dressed. ]
[Footnote 34:
With alga, who the sacred altar strews? To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes; A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain; A lamb to you, ye tempests of the main. ]
ASTRÆA REDUX.
A POEM,
ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY, CHARLES THE SECOND, 1660.
_Jam redit et virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna._ VIRG.
The last great age, foretold by sacred rhimes, Renews its finished course; Saturnian times Roll round again.
Now with a general peace the world was blest, While ours, a world divided from the rest, A dreadful quiet fell, and worser far Than arms, a sullen interval of war. Thus when black clouds draw down the lab'ring skies, Ere yet abroad the winged thunder flies, An horrid stillness first invades the ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.[35] The ambitious Swede, like restless billows tost, On this hand gaining what on that he lost, Though in his life he blood and ruin breathed, To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeathed;[36] And heaven, that seemed regardless of our fate, For France and Spain did miracles create; Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace, As nature bred, and interest did increase. We sighed to hear the fair Iberian bride Must grow a lily to the lily's side;[37] While our cross stars denied us Charles' bed, Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed. For his long absence church and state did groan; Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne: Experienced age in deep despair was lost, To see the rebel thrive, the loyal crost: Youth, that with joys had unacquainted been, Envied gray hairs, that once good days had seen: We thought our sires, not with their own content, Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent. Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt, Who ruined crowns, would coronets exempt: For when, by their designing leaders taught To strike at power, which for themselves they sought, The vulgar, gulled into rebellion, armed, Their blood to action by the prize was warmed. The sacred purple, then, and scarlet gown, Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shewn.[38] Thus, when the bold Typhœus scaled the sky, And forced great Jove from his own heaven to fly, (What king, what crown, from treason's reach is free, If Jove and Heaven can violated be?) The lesser gods, that shared his prosperous state, All suffered in the exiled Thunderer's fate. The rabble now such freedom did enjoy, As winds at sea, that use it to destroy: Blind as the Cyclop, and as wild as he, They owned a lawless savage liberty, Like that our painted ancestors so prized, Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilized.
How great were then our Charles' woes, who thus Was forced to suffer for himself and us! He, tossed by fate, and hurried up and down, Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age, But found his life too true a pilgrimage. Unconquered yet in that forlorn estate, His manly courage overcame his fate: His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast, Which by his virtue were with laurels drest. As souls reach heaven, while yet in bodies pent, So did he live above his banishment. That sun, which we beheld with cozened eyes Within the water, moved along the skies. How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind! But those, that 'gainst stiff gales laveering go, Must be at once resolved, and skilful too. He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent, But stayed, and suffered fortune to repent.[39] These virtues Galba in a stranger sought, And Piso to adopted empire brought,[40] How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, That must his sufferings both regret and bless! For, when his early valour heaven had crost, And all at Worc'ster but the honour lost;[41] Forced into exile from his rightful throne, He made all countries where he came his own; And, viewing monarchs' secret arts of sway, A royal factor for his kingdoms lay. Thus, banished David spent abroad his time, When to be God's anointed was his crime; And, when restored, made his proud neighbours rue Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. Nor is he only by afflictions shown To conquer others' realms, but rule his own; Recovering hardly what he lost before, His right endears it much, his purchase more. Inured to suffer ere he came to reign, No rash procedure will his actions stain: To business ripened by digestive thought, His future rule is into method brought; As they, who, first, proportion understand, With easy practice reach a master's hand. Well might the ancient poets then confer On Night the honoured name of Counsellor; Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, We light alone in dark afflictions find. In such adversities to sceptres trained, The name of Great his famous grandsire gained;[42] Who yet, a king alone in name and right, With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight; Shocked by a covenanting League's vast powers, As holy and as catholic as ours:[43] 'Till Fortune's fruitless spite had made it known, Her blows not shook, but riveted, his throne.
Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, No action leave to busy chronicles: Such, whose supine felicity but makes In story chasms, in epocha[44] mistakes; O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down, Till with his silent sickle they are mown. Such is not Charles[45] his too too active age, Which, governed by the wild distempered rage Of some black star, infecting all the skies, Made him at his own cost, like Adam, wise. Tremble, ye nations, which, secure before, Laughed at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we bore; Rouzed by the lash of his own stubborn tail, Our Lion now will foreign foes assail. With alga, who the sacred altar strews? To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes: A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain, A lamb to you, ye tempests of the main:[46] For those loud storms, that did against him roar, Have cast his shipwrecked vessel on the shore. Yet, as wise artists mix their colours so, That by degrees they from each other go; Black steals unheeded from the neighbouring white, Without offending the well-cozened sight: So on us stole our blessed change; while we The effect did feel, but scarce the manner see. Frosts, that constrain the ground, and birth deny To flowers that in its womb expecting lie, Do seldom their usurping power withdraw, But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw; Our thaw was mild, the cold not chased away, But lost in kindly heat of lengthened day. Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive, But what we could not pay for, freely give. The Prince of Peace would, like himself, confer A gift unhoped, without the price of war: Yet, as he knew his blessing's worth, took care, That we should know it by repeated prayer; Which stormed the skies, and ravished Charles from thence, As heaven itself is took by violence. Booth's forward valour only served to show, He durst that duty pay, we all did owe:[47] The attempt was fair; but heaven's prefixed hour Not come: so, like the watchful traveller, That by the moon's mistaken light did rise, Lay down again, and closed his weary eyes. 'Twas Monk, whom Providence designed to loose Those real bonds false freedom did impose. The blessed saints, that watched this turning scene, Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean, To see small clues draw vastest weights along, Not in their bulk, but in their order strong. Thus, pencils can, by one slight touch, restore Smiles to that changed face that wept before. With ease such fond chimeras we pursue, As fancy frames for fancy to subdue: But when ourselves to action we betake, It shuns the mint, like gold that chemists make.[48] How hard was then his task, at once to be What in the body natural we see! Man's architect distinctly did ordain The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain, Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense; The springs of motion from the seat of sense. 'Twas not the hasty product of a day, But the well-ripened fruit of wise delay. He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, Would let them play a while upon the hook. Our healthful food the stomach labours thus, At first embracing what it straight doth crush. Wise leaches will not vain receipts obtrude, While growing pains pronounce the humours crude: Deaf to complaints, they wait upon the ill, Till some safe crisis authorize their skill. Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear, To 'scape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear, And guard with caution that polluted nest, Whence Legion twice before was dispossest:[49] Once sacred house, which when they entered in, They thought the place could sanctify a sin; Like those, that vainly hoped kind heaven would wink, While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink. And, as devouter Turks first warn their souls To part, before they taste forbidden bowls,[50] So these, when their black crimes they went about, First timely charmed their useless conscience out. Religion's name against itself was made; The shadow served the substance to invade: Like zealous missions, they did care pretend Of souls, in shew, but made the gold their end. The incensed powers beheld with scorn, from high, An heaven so far distant from the sky, Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the ground, And martial brass, bely the thunder's sound[51]. 'Twas hence, at length, just vengeance thought it fit To speed their ruin by their impious wit: Thus Sforza, cursed with a too fertile brain, Lost by his wiles the power has wit did gain.[52] Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate, Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate. Suffered to live, they are like Helots set, A virtuous shame within us to beget;[53] For, by example most we sinned before, And, glass-like,[54] clearness mixed with frailty bore. But since, reformed by what we did amiss, We by our sufferings learn to prize our bliss: Like early lovers, whose unpractised hearts Were long the may-game of malicious arts, When once they find their jealousies were vain, With double heat renew their fires again. 'Twas this produced the joy, that hurried o'er Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore,[55] To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made So rich amends for our impoverished trade. Oh, had you seen from Scheveline's barren shore,[56] (Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring True sorrow, Holland to regret a king![57] While waiting him his royal fleet did ride, And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied. The wavering streamers, flags, and standart[58] out, The merry seamen's rude but chearful shout; And last the cannons' voice that shook the skies, } And, as it fares in sudden ecstasies, } At once bereft us both of ears and eyes. } The Naseby, now no longer England's shame, But better to be lost in Charles his name,[59] (Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets) Receives her lord; the joyful London meets The princely York, himself alone a freight; The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's weight:[60] Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these, He, that was born to drown, might cross the seas. Heaven could not own a Providence, and take The wealth three nations ventured at a stake. The same indulgence Charles his voyage blessed, Which in his right had miracles confessed. The winds, that never moderation knew, Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew; Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straightened lungs, or conscious of their charge. The British Amphytrite, smooth and clear, In richer azure never did appear; Proud her returning prince to entertain With the submitted fasces of the main.
And welcome now, great monarch, to your own! Behold the approaching clifts of Albion. It is no longer motion cheats your view; As you meet it, the land approacheth you. The land returns, and, in the white it wears, The marks of penitence and sorrow bears.[61] But you, whose goodness your descent doth shew, Your heavenly parentage and earthly too, By that same mildness, which your father's crown Before did ravish, shall secure your own. Not tied to rules of policy, you find Revenge less sweet than a forgiving mind. Thus, when the Almighty would to Moses give A sight of all he could behold and live; A voice before his entry did proclaim, Long-suffering, goodness, mercy, in his name.[62] Your power to justice doth submit your cause, Your goodness only is above the laws;[63] Whose rigid letter, while pronounced by you, Is softer made. So winds, that tempests brew, When through Arabian groves they take their flight, Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite. And as those lees, that trouble it, refine The agitated soul of generous wine; So tears of joy, for your returning spilt, Work out, and expiate our former guilt. 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: While, spurred with eager thoughts of past delight, Those, who had seen you, court a second sight; Preventing still your steps, and making haste To meet you often wheresoe'er you past. How shall I speak of that triumphant day, When you renewed the expiring pomp of May! A month that owns an interest in your name: You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.[64] That star, that at your birth shone out so bright, It stained the duller sun's meridian light, Did once again its potent fires renew,[65] Guiding our eyes to find and worship you. And now Time's whiter series is begun, Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run: Those clouds, that overcast your morn, shall fly, Dispelled, to farthest corners of the sky. Our nation, with united interest blest, Not now content to poize, shall sway the rest. Abroad your empire shall no limits know, But, like the sea, in boundless circles flow; Your much-loved fleet shall, with a wide command, Besiege the petty monarchs of the land; And, as old Time his offspring swallowed down,[66] Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown. Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free, Our merchants shall no more adventurers be; Nor in the farthest east those dangers fear, Which humble Holland must dissemble here. Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes; For, what the powerful takes not, he bestows: And France, that did an exile's presence fear,[67] May justly apprehend you still too near. At home the hateful names of parties cease, And factious souls are wearied into peace. The discontented now are only they, Whose crimes before did your just cause betray; Of those your edicts some reclaim from sin, But most your life and blest example win. Oh happy prince, whom heaven hath taught the way By paying vows to have more vows to pay! Oh happy age! Oh times like those alone, By fate reserved for great Augustus' throne! When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshew The world a monarch, and that monarch you.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 35: Note I.]
[Footnote 36: Note II.]
[Footnote 37: Note III.]
[Footnote 38: Note IV.]
[Footnote 39: Note V.]
[Footnote 40: Note VI.]
[Footnote 41: Note VII.]
[Footnote 42: Henry IV. of France, maternal grandfather of Charles II.]
[Footnote 43: Note VIII.]
[Footnote 44: First edition, _epoches_.]
[Footnote 45: This mode of forming the genitive is adopted from the first edition, as smoother than "Charles's."]
[Footnote 46: Note IX.]
[Footnote 47: Note X.]
[Footnote 48: Note XI.]
[Footnote 49: Note XII.]
[Footnote 50: Note XIII.]
[Footnote 51: Salmoneus, tyrant of Elis made such a contrivance to imitate thunder, for which he was destroyed with lightning by Jupiter; which is here fancifully compared to the military terrors, by which the fanatics supported their religious tenets.]
[Footnote 52: Note XIV.]
[Footnote 53: Note XV.]
[Footnote 54: First edition has, "like glass."]
[Footnote 55: Note XVI.]
[Footnote 56: Note XVII.]
[Footnote 57: Note XVIII.]
[Footnote 58: So the first edition; the others read standards. The royal standard is meant.]
[Footnote 59: Note XIX.]
[Footnote 60: Note XX.]
[Footnote 61: Note XXI.]
[Footnote 62: Note XXII.]
[Footnote 63: Note XXIII.]
[Footnote 64: Note XXIV.]
[Footnote 65: Note XXV.]
[Footnote 66: Note XXVI.]
[Footnote 67: Note XXVII.]
NOTES
ON
ASTRÆA REDUX.
Note I.
_An horrid stillness first invades the ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear._--P. 30.
The small wits of the time made themselves very merry with this couplet; because stillness, being a mere absence of sound, could not, it was said, be personified, as an active agent, or invader. Captain Ratcliff thus states the objection in his "News from Hell:"
Laureat, who was both learned and florid, Was damned, long since, for "silence horrid;" Nor had there been such clatter made, But that this Silence did "invade." Invade! and so't might well, 'tis clear; But what did it invade?--an ear. And for some other things, 'tis true, "We follow Fate, that does pursue."
In the "Dialogue in Bedlam," between Oliver's porter, fiddler, and poet, the first of these persons thus addresses L'Estrange and Dryden, "the scene being adorned with several of the poet's own flowers:"
O glory, glory! who are these appear? My fellow-servants, poet, fiddler, here? Old Hodge the constant, Johny the sincere! Who sent you hither? and, pray tell me, why? A horrid silence does invade my eye, While not one sound of voice from you I spy.
But, as Dr Johnson justly remarks, we hesitate not to say, the world is invaded by darkness, which is a privation of light; and why not by silence, which is a privation of sound?
Note II.
_The ambitious Swede, like restless billows tost, On this hand gaining what on that he lost, Though in his life he blood and ruin breathed, To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeathed._--P. 30.
The royal line of Sweden has produced more heroic and chivalrous monarchs, than any dynasty of Europe. The gallant Charles X. who is here mentioned, did not degenerate from this warlike stem. He was a nephew of the great Gustavus Adolphus; and, like him, was continually engaged in war, particularly against Poland and Austria. He died at Gottenburgh in 1660, and the peace of Sweden was soon afterwards restored by the treaty of Copenhagen.
Note III.
_We sighed to hear the fair Iberian bride Must grow a lily to the lily's side._--P. 31.
The death of Cromwell, and the unsettled state of England, prevented the execution of those ambitious schemes, which Cardinal Mazarine, then prime minister of France, had hoped to accomplish by the assistance of Britain. The Cardinal was therefore, in 1659, induced to accede to the treaty of the Pyrenees, by which peace was restored betwixt France and Spain; the union being cemented by the marriage of the Infanta to Louis XIV.--Charles II., then a needy fugitive, was in attendance upon the ministers of France and Spain, when they met on the frontiers for this great object; but he, who was soon to be so powerful a monarch, experienced on that occasion nothing but slights from Mazarine, and cold civility from Don Lewis de Haro.
Note IV.
_The sacred purple, then, and scarlet gown, Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shown._--P. 31.
This does not mean, as Derrick conceived, that these emblems of authority had as little effect upon the mob as if they had been shown to an elephant; but that the sight of them animated the people to such senseless fury, as elephants, and many other animals, are said to shew, upon seeing any object of a red colour.
Note V.
_He would not, like soft Otho, fate prevent, But stayed, and suffered fortune to repent._--P. 32.
The emperor Otho, whose mind and manners exhibited so many contradictions, is described as one of the most effeminate of men in his outward habits; his mind, however, was active and energetic. "_Non erat Othonis, mollis et corpori similis, animus._" TACITI, Lib. i. _Historiarum_.--He slew himself after the battle of Brixellum, in which he was vanquished by Vitellius. The prætorian guards, and his other followers, in vain urged him to try his fortune again in the field. Whether from that impatience of sustaining adversity, which luxurious habits seldom fail to produce, or from the generous desire of ending a disastrous civil war, he retained and executed his resolution. It is, however, no extraordinary compliment to Charles, that he did not, after his defeat at Worcester, follow an example more classical than inviting.
Note VI.
_These virtues Galba in a stranger sought, And Piso to adopted empire brought._--P. 32.
Galba adopted Piso Frugi Licinianus as his successor in the empire. He was a stranger to his blood, and only endeared to him by his good qualities. Tacitus puts these words in the mouth of Galba upon this occasion: "_Nunc me, deorum hominumque consensu, ad imperium vocatum, preclara indoles tua, et amor patriæ impulit, ut principatum, de quo majores nostri armis certabant, bello adeptus, quiescenti offeram; exemplo divi Augusti, qui sororis filium Marcellum, dein generum Agrippam, mox nepotes suos, postremo Tiberium Neronem privignum, in proximo sibi fastigio, collocavit. Sed Augustus in domo successorem quæsivit, ego in republica: non quia propinquos aut socios belli non habeam; sed neque ipse imperium ambitione accessi, et judicii mei documentum sit non meæ tantum necessitudines quas tibi postposui sed et tuæ._"--Lib. I. _Historiarum_, cap. xv.
Note VII.
_All at Worc'ster but the honour lost._--P. 32.
This is in imitation of the famous letter which Francis the First of France wrote to his mother after the battle of Pavia: "Madam, all is lost except our honour." That of Charles II. certainly was not lost at Worcester. He gave many marks of personal courage, and was only hurried off the field by the torrent of fugitives. He halted a large body of horse, and implored them to return, and but look upon the enemy; yet, though he advanced at their head, they all deserted him but a few of his immediate attendants.
Note VIII.
_Shocked by a covenanting League's vast powers, As holy and as catholic as ours._--P. 33.
The parallel between the French League and the Covenant had already occurred to Dryden as a proper subject for the stage; for, in the first year after the Restoration, he wrote several scenes of "The Duke of Guise," though it was not finished or acted till long afterwards. See Vol. VII. p. 137.
Note IX.
_With alga, who the sacred altar strews? To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes: A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain; A lamb to you, ye tempests of the main._--P. 34.
The ceremonies of classical antiquity, observed by those who escaped from shipwreck, are here detailed. The _alga_, or sea-weed, sprinkled on the altar, alluded to the cause of their sacrifice. Portunus, otherwise called Portumnus, was a sea-god of some reputation. The Greeks called him Palæmon, which was formerly his earthly name. He is mentioned by Virgil:
_Et Pater ipse, manu magnâ, Portunus euntem Impulit._
Æneidos, lib. v.
Note X.
_Booth's forward valour only served to show, He durst that duty pay, we all did owe._--P. 34.
Upon the death of Cromwell, in 1659, the cavaliers resolved upon a general rising; but their intentions being betrayed by Sir Richard Willis, the insurrection only took place at Chester, which was seized by Sir George Booth and Sir William Middleton. They ventured imprudently into the open field to face Lambert, by whom they were totally routed; so that the royal party in England never seemed to lie under such total depression, as when it was about to triumph over all opposition.
Note XI.
_It shuns the mint, like gold that chemists make._--P. 35.
It is said, believe who list, that the ingenious Mr Robert Boyle invented a metal, which had all the properties of gold, except malleability.
Note XII.
----_That polluted nest, Whence Legion twice before was dispossest._--P. 35.
Alluding to Cromwell's dissolution of the Long Parliament, with the memorable words, "Ye are no longer a parliament; I tell you, ye are no longer a parliament; the Lord has done with you." General Harrison then pulled the speaker from the chair; and Worsley, with two file of musketeers, expelled the refractory members, Cromwell loading each of them with personal revilings. When the house was cleared, he, with great composure, locked the doors, and took the key home in his pocket. Legion was a second time dispossessed by the same kind of exorcism, when the House of Commons was occupied by that extraordinary assembly, usually called, from the name of a distinguished member, "Praise God Barebone's Parliament." This motley assembly of crazy fanatics, having shewn some disposition to extend the reign of the saints, in a manner rather inconsistent with Cromwell's views of exclusive domination, were suddenly dissolved by him. A remnant, headed by the frantic enthusiast Harrison, continued to sit till their deliberations were interrupted by White with a party of soldiers, who demanded, "what they did there?" "We are seeking the Lord," answered they. "Then go seek him elsewhere," rejoined the commander; "for to my knowledge he has not been here these many years." Or Dryden may have referred to the terms upon which Cromwell parted with his last parliament; to whom he swore, by the living God, they should not sit an hour longer; and calling upon the Lord to be judge between them, (to which many members answered, Amen,) turned them about their business. Indeed, when we consider, that the Long Parliament was, after Cromwell's death, restored and cashiered more than once, the line might have more properly run,
Whence Legion _oft_ before was dispossessed.
Note XIII.
_And, as devouter Turks first warn their souls To part, before they taste forbidden bowls._--P. 36.
When a Turk is disposed to transgress the precept of the Koran, by drinking wine, he requests the favour of his soul to go into some retired corner of his body, in order to avoid contamination from the horrible potion.
Note XIV.
_Thus Sforza, cursed with a too fertile brain, Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain._--P. 36.
This subtle politician was Lodovico, son of Francisco Sforza. He was one of the most restless and intriguing spirits, that Italy, the mother of political genius, has ever produced. His natural brother, Francisco Sforza, had acquired, by marriage, the duchy of Milan, which he left to his son Giovanni Galeazzo Sforza. Lodovico, under pretence of acting as his nephew's tutor, took into his own hands the supreme power; and, tired of governing under the name of another, at length deposed and murdered the young duke. In order to secure himself in his usurped domination, he invited the French into Italy, which they over-ran and conquered under Charles VIII. He became soon suspicious of these too powerful allies, and leagued with the Venetians to cut off the retreat of the French from Naples. In 1594, he made a pretended peace with Charles; and, in the year following, invited into Italy the Emperor Maximilian, by whose assistance he hoped to secure himself in Pisa, of which he had taken possession, and to conquer the Florentines, with whom he was at war. In all these, and many other ambiguous and versatile transactions, Sforza was so happy, that he used to call himself the Son of Fortune, as he was termed by others the Moor, from his dark complection, acute genius, and cruel disposition. But, in 1599, Lewis XII., who had pretensions upon the dukedom of Milan, as the grandson of Valentine Visconti, daughter of Giovanni Galeazzo, Duke of Milan, invaded the Milanese territory with a force which Sforza was unable to resist, and compelled him to fly into Germany with his treasures. In 1600, Sforza again returned to Italy at the head of an army of Swiss mercenaries, and repossessed himself of Milan, Como, and other places of importance. The Swiss, however, mutinied at Novara, and not only refused to fight in his behalf, but even to guard him to a place of security. As these unworthy Helvetians had made a private convention with the French, they permitted them to seize the person of Sforza, who was discovered among the ranks of his faithless mercenaries, dressed and armed like a private Swiss soldier; a lamentable instance of the inconstancy of fortune. He was carried prisoner to France, where he ended his days in prison, A. D. 1608.
Note XV.
_Henceforth their_ fougue _must spend at lesser rate, Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate; Suffered to live, they are like Helots set, A virtuous shame within us to beget._--P. 36.
Those persons, who had sat in any illegal high court of justice, with a few others, were, at the Restoration, declared incapable of bearing any public office. In expressing their violent spirit, our author uses the unnecessary Gallicism _fougue_, although it might have been as well described by the English _fire_. Thus disqualified, the poet compares these republicans to the Spartan slaves, made drunk to excite the contempt of the youth for that degrading vice. By the bye, Dryden's kinsman, Sir Gilbert Pickering, was among the persons so incapacitated.
Note XVI.
_'Twas this produced the joy, that hurried o'er Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore._--P. 37.
"Several persons now came to Breda, not as heretofore to Cologne and to Brussells, under disguises, and in fear of being discovered, but with bare faces, and the pride and vanity to be taken notice of, to present their duty to the king; some being employed to procure pardons for those who thought themselves in danger, and to stand in need of them; others brought good presents in English gold to the king, that their names, and the names of their friends who sent them, might be remembered among the first, who made demonstrations of their affections that way to his majesty, by supplying his necessities; which had been discontinued for many years, to a degree that cannot be believed, and ought not to be remembered." CLARENDON, Vol. III. Part. II. p. 766. "In the mean time, Breda swarmed with English; a multitude repairing thither from all other places, as well as London, with presents, and protestations, how much they had longed and prayed for this blessed change, and magnifying their sufferings under the late tyrannical government, when some of them had been zealous instruments and promoters of it." _Ibidem_, p. 767.
Note XVII.
_Scheveline's barren shore._--P. 37.
A small village near the Hague, at which Charles embarked on his joyful voyage.
Note XVIII.
----_Holland to regret a king._--P. 37.
The States not only maintained Charles in royal splendour during his residence at Breda, and at the Hague, but loaded him with valuable gifts at his departure, particularly a bed worth L. 1000, and linen valued at L. 1000; both which articles his hardships had taught him to value, by sad experience of the want of them.
Note XIX.
_The Naseby, now no longer England's shame, But better to be lost in Charles his name._--P. 37.
When the English fleet came on the coast of Holland, the Duke of York took possession of it, as Lord High Admiral. "After he had spent the day there in receiving information of the state of the fleet, and a catalogue of the names of the several ships, his Highness returned with it that night to the king, that his majesty might make alterations, and new christen these ships, which too much preserved the memory of the late governors, and of the republic."--CLARENDON. The Naseby was too odious a name to be preserved, and it was changed to the Royal Charles, and the Swiftsure to the James. The Royal Charles fell into the hands of the Dutch at the surprize of Chatham.
Note XX.
----_Great Gloster's weight._--P. 37.
Henry of Oatlands, Duke of Glocester, third son of Charles I. He embarked on this occasion with his brother, by whom he was dearly beloved. He died of the small-pox on the 13th September following, deeply and generally lamented.
Note XXI.
_It is no longer motion cheats your view; As you meet it, the land approacheth you: The land returns, and, in the white it wears, The marks of penitence and sorrow bears._--P. 38.
Johnson remarks, that this extraordinary piece of complaisance in the land is not without a precedent. A French poet read to Malherbe some verses, in which he mentioned the kingdom of France as advancing to meet the king. "Though this happened in my time," observed the critic, "it is strange I should not remember it." In the next couplet, Albion does penance in a sheet, because her cliffs are chalky; had they been black, she would have been in mourning of course. But the civility of such inanimate objects, according to the poets of this reign, was truly wonderful, considering their present insensibility. In a poem, "On the Arrival of her Royal Highness, and Happy Marriage to the Most Illustrious Prince James Duke of York, &c. 1673," not only do dolphins dance about the vessel, but, yet more surprising,
When first she launched, the ambitious waves no more Would kiss the lips of the forsaken shore; But, proud of such rich freight, began t' aspire, As if they'd quench the elemental fire: So that philosophers since scarce agree, Whether the earth or ocean highest be. The trembling compass had forgot to stir, Instead o'the north pole, pointing still at her; At which the pilot wonders, till he spies Two north poles culminant at once,--her eyes.
Note XXII.
_Thus, when the Almighty would to Moses give A sight of all he could behold and live; A voice before his entry did proclaim, Long suffering, goodness, mercy, in His name._--P. 36.
"And he said, Thou shall not see my face: for there shall no man see me and live.
"And the Lord said, Behold there is a place by me, and thou shalt stand upon a rock;
"And it shall come to pass, when my glory cometh by, that I will put thee into a clift of the rock, and will cover thee with my hand while I pass by;
"And I will take away mine hand, and thou shalt see my back parts, but my face shall not be seen." _Exodus_, Chap. XXXIII. verses 20, 21, 22, 23.
"And the Lord descended in the cloud, and stood with him there, and proclaimed the name of the Lord.
"And the Lord passed before him, and proclaimed, The Lord, the Lord God merciful and gracious, long suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth." _Exodus_, Chap. XXXIV. verses 5, 6.
Note XXIII.
_Your power to justice doth submit your cause, Your goodness only is above the laws._--P. 36.
By the declaration of King Charles II., dated at Breda, 14th April, 1660, a free pardon was promised to all subjects, of what degree or quality soever, for their share in the late civil war, excepting only such as should hereafter be excepted by Parliament. The House of Peers, irritated by their sufferings during the late troubles, were disposed to make very general exceptions from the proposed indemnity. But the king came in person to the house, and beseeched them, in the most affecting terms, to extend the benefit of the bill to all who had not been the immediate instruments of his father's death. Upon which principle, the "Act of Oblivion" was constructed accordingly. Even among the judges of his father, the King distinguished Ingoldsby, and others, as fit objects of mercy. Thus the law's rigid letter, as pronounced by him, was "softer made."
Note XXIV.
_How shall I speak of that triumphant day, When you renewed the expiring pomp of May! A month that owns an interest in your name; You and the flowers are its peculiar claim._--P. 37.
Charles II. was born on the 29th of May, 1630, and upon the same day of the same month, 1660, he "renewed the expiring pomp of May," by making his triumphal entry into his metropolis, for the purpose of resuming the throne of his forefathers. The immense crowds which assembled to witness an event, which was to close the wounds of civil discord, seemed, says Clarendon, as if the whole kingdom had been gathered together. For a full account of his triumphant procession, with the cloth of gold, and cloth of silver, velvet cloaks, gold chains, kettle-drums, trumpets, and common council-men, see _Baker's Chronicle_. One part of the show was particularly striking to the actors in the late commotions: "I must confess," says the republican Ludlow, "it was a strange sight to me, to see the horse that had formerly belonged to our army, now put upon an employment, so different from that which they had at first undertaken; especially when I considered, that, for the most part, they had not been raised out of the meanest of the people, and without distinction, as other armies had been; but that they consisted of such as had engaged themselves from a spirit of liberty, in defence of their rights and religion." LUDLOW'S _Memoirs_, Vol. III. p. 16.
Note XXV.
_That star, that at your birth shone out so bright, It stained the duller sun's meridian light, Did once again its potent fires renew._--P. 37.
There was a star visible on Charles' birth-day, 29th May, 1630; a circumstance much dwelt upon, by his party, during the civil wars. Lilly, the astrologer, who embraced the cause of the Commonwealth, assures us, it was nothing more than the planet Venus, which is sometimes visible in the day-time; and truly, if we judge of the matter by its influence on the merry monarch, Venus has the best title to be held the dominant power at his nativity. Lilly also repeats the following lines, presented to Charles I. (by the astrologer himself, I suppose,) when he went to St Paul's, to return thanks for the birth of his son:
_Rex ubi Paulinias accessit gratus ad aras, Immicuit medio lucida stella polo: Dic divina mihi tractans ænigmata cœli, Hæc oriens nobis quid sibi stella velit? Magnus in occiduo princeps modo nascitur orbe, Moxque sub eclipsi regna orientis erunt._
LILLY'S Monarchy, or no Monarchy.
Our author seems to allude to this star in the "Duke of Guise," where, speaking literally of Henry III., but covertly of Charles II., he makes Melanax say,
----He cannot be deposed, He may be killed; a violent fate attends him, But at his birth there shone a regal star.
Vol. VII. p. 74.
A poetical follower of Monmouth introduces the Duke of York murmuring against the good fortune of his brother, and exclaiming,
Curse on that planet, whose benign ray Gilds the bright pavement of the Milky Way; And is so good, so influential To the great master of the Milky Hall.
The same star, it would seem, was again visible in 1660.
Note XXVI.
_And as old Time his offspring swallowed down._--P. 37.
The minutes, hours, days, and other subdivisions of time, may be accounted his children, which he is fancifully said to devour, as he passes over them.
Note XXVII.
_And France, that did an exile's presence fear._--P. 37.
Charles was obliged to leave France, less because his presence was feared in itself, than the displeasure of Cromwell, for affording him shelter.
TO
HIS SACRED MAJESTY,
A
PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION.
The ceremony of Charles the Second's coronation was deferred until the year succeeding his Restoration, when it was solemnized with extreme magnificence, on the 22d April, 1661, being St George's day. Charles moved from the Tower to Whitehall, through a series of triumphal arches, stages, and pageants, all of which presented, at once, the joy and wealth of his people before the eyes of the monarch. The poets, it may readily be believed, joined in the general gratulation; but, from the rudeness of their style, and puerility of their conceits, Charles, whose taste was undoubted, must have soon distinguished our author's superior energy of diction, and harmony of language. In most respects we may consider this piece as written in the style of the preceding, yet with less affectation of witty and far-fetched allusion. The description of the spring, beginning, "Now our sad ruins are removed from sight," is elegantly fancied, and so smoothly expressed, that even the flow of the language seems to mark the mild and delightful influence of the season it describes. Much quaintness remains to be weeded out. The name of the king is sent on high, wrapped soft and warm in music, like flames on the wings of incense; and, anon, music has found a tomb in Charles, and lies drowned in her own sweetness; while the fragrant scent, begun from the royal person, and confined within the hallowed dome, flies round and descends on him in richer dew. Above all, we are startled to hear of
A queen, near whose chaste womb, ordained by fate, The souls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
Neither, if we read (with the first edition) _from_ instead of _near_, is the intelligibility, or decorum of the passage much improved. If any of the souls of these unborn monarchs waited for bodies from Queen Catharine, they waited long in vain. But with all these defects, there is in this little piece that animation of language and idea, which always affords the most secure promise of genius.
The first edition is printed for Henry Herringman, 1661.
TO HIS
SACRED MAJESTY,
A
PANEGYRIC
ON
HIS CORONATION.
In that wild deluge where the world was drowned, When life and sin one common tomb had found, The first small prospect of a rising hill With various notes of joy the ark did fill: Yet when that flood in its own depths was drowned, It left behind it false and slippery ground; And the more solemn pomp was still deferred, 'Till new-born nature in fresh looks appeared. Thus, Royal Sir, to see you landed here, Was cause enough of triumph for a year: Nor would your care those glorious joys repeat, 'Till they at once might be secure and great; 'Till your kind beams, by their continued stay, Had warmed the ground, and called the damps away. Such vapours, while your powerful influence dries, Then soonest vanish when they highest rise. Had greater haste these sacred rites prepared, Some guilty months had in your triumphs shared;[68] But this untainted year is all your own, Your glories may without our crimes be shown. We had not yet exhausted all our store, When you refreshed our joys by adding more: As heaven, of old, dispensed celestial dew, You gave us manna, and still gave us new. Now our sad ruins are removed from sight, The season too comes fraught with new delight: Time seems not now beneath his years to stoop, Nor do his wings with sickly feathers droop: Soft western winds waft o'er the gaudy spring, And opened scenes of flowers and blossoms bring, To grace this happy day, while you appear, Not king of us alone, but of the year. All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart; Of your own pomp yourself the greatest part: Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim, And heaven this day is feasted with your name. Your cavalcade the fair spectators view, From their high standings, yet look up to you. From your brave train each singles out a prey, And longs to date a conquest from your day. Now charged with blessings while you seek repose, Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close; And glorious dreams stand ready to restore The pleasing shapes of all you saw before. Next to the sacred temple you are led, Where waits a crown for your more sacred head. How justly from the church that crown is due, Preserved from ruin, and restored by you! The grateful choir their harmony employ, Not to make greater, but more solemn joy. Wrapt soft and warm your name is sent on high, As flames do on the wings of incense fly. Music herself is lost; in vain she brings Her choicest notes to praise the best of kings: Her melting strains in you a tomb have found, And lie like bees in their own sweetness drowned. He, that brought peace, all[69] discord could atone, His name is music of itself alone. Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread Through the large dome, the people's joyful sound, Sent back, is still preserved in hallowed ground; Which in one blessing mixed descends on you, As heightened spirits fall in richer dew. Not that our wishes do increase your store; Full of yourself you can admit no more. We add not to your glory, but employ Our time, like angels, in expressing joy. Nor is it duty, or our hopes alone, Create that joy, but full fruition: We know those blessings, which we must possess, And judge of future by past happiness. No promise can oblige a prince so much Still to be good, as long to have been such. A noble emulation heats your breast, And your own fame now robs you of your rest. Good actions still must be maintained with good, As bodies nourished with resembling food. You have already quenched sedition's brand; And zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land. The jealous sects, that dare not trust their cause So far from their own will as to the laws, You for their umpire and their synod take, And their appeal alone to Cæsar make.[70] Kind heaven so rare a temper did provide, That guilt repenting might in it confide. Among our crimes oblivion may be set; But 'tis our king's perfection to forget. Virtues unknown to these rough northern climes, From milder heavens you bring, without their crimes. Your calmness does no after-storms provide, Nor seeming patience mortal anger hide. When empire first from families did spring, Then every father governed as a king; But you, that are a sovereign prince, allay Imperial power with your paternal sway. From those great cares when ease your soul unbends, Your pleasures are designed to noble ends; Born to command the mistress of the seas, Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please. Hither in summer evenings you repair, To taste the fraischeur of the purer air: Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves, With Cæsar's heart that rose above the waves. More I could sing, but fear my numbers stays; No loyal subject dares that courage praise. In stately frigates most delight you find,[71] Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind. What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence, When even your pleasures serve for our defence. Beyond your court flows in the admitted tide,[72] Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide: Here in a royal bed the waters sleep; When tired at sea, within this bay they creep. Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects,[73] So safe are all things which our king protects. From your loved Thames a blessing yet is due, Second alone to that it brought in you; A queen, near whose chaste womb, ordained by fate, The souls of kings unborn for bodies wait. It was your love before made discord cease: Your love is destined to your country's peace. Both Indies,[74] rivals in your bed, provide With gold or jewels to adorn your bride; This to a mighty king presents rich ore, While that with incense does a god implore. Two kingdoms wait your doom; and, as you choose, This must receive a crown, or that must lose. Thus from your Royal Oak, like Jove's of old, Are answers sought, and destinies foretold: Propitious oracles are begged with vows, And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs[75]. Your subjects, while you weigh the nation's fate, Suspend to both their doubtful love or hate. Choose only, sir, that so they may possess With their own peace their children's happiness.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 68: Note I.]
[Footnote 69: The first edition reads _and_ for _all_.]
[Footnote 70: Note II.]
[Footnote 71: Note III.]
[Footnote 72: Note IV.]
[Footnote 73: Note V.]
[Footnote 74: Spain and Portugal, both desirous to ally themselves with Charles by marriage.]
[Footnote 75: Note VI.]
NOTES
ON
THE PANEGYRIC ON THE CORONATION.
Note I.
_Some guilty months had in your triumphs shared._
After the Restoration, several of the regicides were condemned to death; but the king, with unexampled lenity, remitted the capital punishment of many of these deep offenders. Only six of the king's judges were executed; and, when to that number are added, the fanatic Peters, who compared the suffering monarch to Barabbas, Coke, the solicitor, who pleaded against Charles on his mock trial, and Hacker, who commanded the guard, and brutally instigated, and even compelled them to cry for execution, we have the number of nine, who suffered for a fact, the most enormous in civilized history, till our age produced a parallel. There was also an insurrection of the fierce and hot-brained sect of fanatics, who called themselves fifth-monarchy men, and devoutly believed, that the Millennium, and the reign of the saints, was about to begin. Willing to contribute their share to this happy consummation, these enthusiasts, headed by the fanatic Venner, rushed into the streets of London; and, though but sixty in number, were not overpowered without long resistance, and much bloodshed. These incidents, Dryden, always happy in his allusion to the events of the day, assigns as a reason for deferring the coronation to an untainted year. Perhaps, however, he only meant to say, that, as Charles was not restored till May, 1660, the preceding months of that year were unworthy to share in the honour, which the coronation would have conferred upon it.
Note II.
_The jealous sects---- You for their umpire, and their synod take, And their appeal alone to Cæsar make._
The conferences held at Savoy House, betwixt the presbyterians and the bishops, excited hopes among those who did not understand the temper of theological controversy, that these two powerful divisions of the protestant church might be reconciled to each other. The quakers, anabaptists, and other inferior sects, applied, by petitions and humble addresses, to the king, to be permitted to worship God, according to their consciences. Thus, the whole modelling of ecclesiastical matters seemed to be in the hands of the king.
Note III.
_In stately frigates most delight you find._
Charles the Second had a strong mechanical genius, and understood ship-building, in particular, more completely than became a monarch, if it were possible that a king of England could be too intimately acquainted with what concerns the bulwark of his empire. The king's skill in matters of navigation is thus celebrated by the author of a Poem upon his Majesty's Coronation, the 22d April, 1661, being St George's day.
The seaman's art, and his great end commerce, Through all the corners of the universe, Are not alone the subject of your care, But your delight, and you their polar-star; And even mechanic arts do find from you, Both entertainment and improvement too.
Note IV.
_Beyond your court flows in the admitted tide._
By the improvements made by Charles the Second on St James's Park, there was a connection made with the river, which Waller has celebrated in these lines, as a work of superior merit to founding a city.
Instead of rivers rolling by the side Of Eden's garden, here flows in the tide. The sea, which always served his empire, now Pays tribute to our prince's pleasure too. Of famous cities we the founders know; But rivers old as seas, to which they go, Are nature's bounty: 'tis of more renown, To make a river, than to build a town.
_On St James's Park, as lately improved by His Majesty._
Note V.
_Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects._
The canal in St James's park formed a decoy for water-fowl, with which it was stocked. This circumstance, like the former, is noticed by Waller:
Whilst over head a flock of new-sprung fowl Hangs in the air and does the sun controul. Darkening the air, they hover o'er, and shrowd The wanton sailors with a feathered cloud.
The water-fowl, thus celebrated, were particular favourites of the king, who fed them with his own hand. His affection for his dogs and ducks is noticed in many a libel.
Note VI.
_Thus from your Royal Oak, like Jove's of old, Are answers sought, and destinies foretold; Propitious oracles are begged with vows, And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs._
This is in allusion to a device exhibited over the triumphal arch, in Leadenhall street, through which the king passed in his way from the Tower to Whitehall, on the day of his coronation. Behind a picture of the king appeared, deciphered in a large table, "the Royal Oak, bearing crowns and sceptres, instead of acorns; amongst the leaves in a label
_Miraturque novas frondes et non suà poma._
As designing its reward, for the shelter it afforded his majesty, after the fight at Worcester."[76] These devices were invented by John Ogilby, gent., to the conduct of whom the poetical part of the coronation, as it is termed in his writ of privilege, was solely entrusted. The same fancy is commemorated, by the author of "Loyal Reflections on his Majesty's Restoration, Procession, and Coronation," who thus apostrophises the Royal Oak:
Thou vegetive soul, whose glory 'tis and pride To suffer wounds, or sink, not to divide; Whose branches Ogilby's rich fancy made Bear crowns for nuts, but thy best fruit was shade. When Charles lodged in thy boughs, thou couldst not want Many degrees to be a sensitive plant.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 76: Ogilby's relation of his Majesty's entertainment passing through the city of London to his coronation.]
TO
LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.
&c.
The great statesman, to whom Dryden made this new-year's offering, was the well known Earl of Clarendon, of whose administration Hume gives the following striking account:
"Clarendon not only behaved with wisdom and justice in the office of chancellor: all the counsels, which he gave the king, tended equally to promote the interest of prince and people. Charles, accustomed, in his exile, to pay entire deference to the judgment of this faithful servant, continued still to submit to his direction; and for some time no minister was ever possessed of more absolute authority. He moderated the forward zeal of the royalists, and tempered their appetite for revenge. With the opposite party, he endeavoured to preserve, inviolate, all the king's engagements. He kept an exact register of the promises which had been made, for any service; and he employed all his industry to fulfil them."
Notwithstanding the merits of Clarendon, and our author's prophecy in the following verses, that
He had already wearied fortune so, She could no longer be his friend or foe;
this great statesman was doomed to be one of the numberless victims to the uncertainty of court favour. His fall took place in 1667, when he was attainted and banished. The popular discontent was chiefly excited against him, by a groundless charge of corruption; an accusation to which the vulgar lend a greedy and implicit faith, because ignorance is always suspicious, and low minds, not knowing how seldom avarice is the companion of ambition, conceive the opportunities of peculation to be not only numerous, but irresistibly tempting. Accordingly, the heroes of Athens, as well as the patriots of Rome, were usually stigmatized with this crime; bare suspicion of which, it would seem, is usually held adequate to the fullest proof. Nor have instances been wanting in our own days, of a party adopting the same mode, to blacken the character of those, whose firmness and talents impeded their access to power, and public confidence.
In the address to the Chancellor, Dryden has indulged his ingenuity in all the varied and prolonged comparisons and conceits, which were the taste of his age. Johnson has exemplified Dryden's capacity of producing these elaborate trifles, by referring to the passage, which compares the connection between the king and his minister, to the visible horizon. "It is," says he, "so successfully laboured, that though at last it gives the mind more perplexity than pleasure, and seems hardly worth the study that it costs; yet it must be valued, as the proof of a mind at once subtle and comprehensive." The following couplet, referring to the friendship of Charles I, when in his distresses, for Clarendon, contains a comparison, which is eminently happy:
Our setting sun, from his declining seat, Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat.
In general, this poem displays more uniform adherence to the metaphysical style of Cowley, and his contemporaries, than occurs in any of Dryden's other compositions. May we not suppose, that, in addressing Clarendon, he adopted the style of those muses, with whom the Chancellor had conversed in his earlier days, in preference to the plainer and more correct taste, which Waller, and Denham, had begun to introduce; but which, to the aged statesman, could have brought no recollection of what he used to consider as poetry? Certain, at least, it is, that, to use the strong language of Johnson, Dryden never after ventured "to bring on the anvil such stubborn and unmanageable thoughts;" and these lines afford striking evidence, how the lever of genius, like that of machinery applied to material substances, can drag together, and compel the approximation of the most unsociable ideas. Our admiration of both, however, is much qualified, when they are applied rather to make exhibition of their own powers, than for any better purpose.
TO
THE LORD-CHANCELLOR HYDE.
PRESENTED ON NEW-YEAR'S-DAY, 1662.
MY LORD,
While flattering crouds officiously appear To give themselves, not you, an happy year, And by the greatness of their presents prove How much they hope, but not how well they love,-- The Muses, who your early courtship boast, Though now your flames are with their beauty lost, Yet watch their time, that, if you have forgot They were your mistresses, the world may not. Decayed by time and wars, they only prove Their former beauty by their former love; And now present, as ancient ladies do, That, courted long, at length are forced to woo: For still they look on you with such kind eyes, As those, that see the Church's sovereign rise, From their own order chose, in whose high state They think themselves the second choice of fate. When our great monarch into exile went, Wit and religion suffered banishment. Thus once, when Troy was wrapped in fire and smoke, The helpless gods their burning shrines forsook; They with the vanquished prince and party go, And leave their temples empty to the foe. At length the Muses stand, restored again To that great charge which nature did ordain; And their loved druids seem revived by fate, While you dispense the laws, and guide the state. The nation's soul, our monarch, does dispense, Through you, to us his vital influence: You are the channel, where those spirits flow, And work them higher, as to us they go. In open prospect nothing bounds our eye, Until the earth seems joined unto the sky: So in this hemisphere, our utmost view Is only bounded by our king and you; Our sight is limited where you are joined, And beyond that no farther heaven can find. So well your virtues do with his agree, That, though your orbs of different greatness be, Yet both are for each other's use disposed, His to inclose, and yours to be inclosed: Nor could another in your room have been, Except an emptiness had come between. Well may he, then, to you his cares impart, And share his burden where he shares his heart. In you his sleep still wakes; his pleasures find Their share of business in your labouring mind. So, when the weary sun his place resigns, He leaves his light, and by reflection shines. Justice, that sits and frowns where public laws Exclude soft mercy from a private cause, In your tribunal most herself does please; There only smiles because she lives at ease; And, like young David, finds her strength the more, When disincumbered from those arms she wore. Heaven would your royal master should exceed Most in that virtue, which we most did need; And his mild father (who too late did find All mercy vain but what with power was joined) His fatal goodness left to fitter times, Not to increase, but to absolve our crimes: But when the heir of this vast treasure knew How large a legacy was left to you, (Too great for any subject to retain) He wisely tied it to the crown again; Yet, passing through your hands, it gathers more, As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their ore. While emp'ric politicians use deceit, Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat; You boldly shew that skill which they pretend, And work by means as noble as your end; Which should you veil, we might unwind the clue, As men do nature, till we came to you. And, as the Indies were not found before Those rich perfumes, which, from the happy shore, The winds upon their balmy wings conveyed, Whose guilty sweetness first their world betrayed; So, by your counsels, we are brought to view A rich and undiscovered world in you. By you our monarch does that fame assure, Which kings must have, or cannot live secure: For prosperous princes gain their subjects' heart, Who love that praise in which themselves have part. By you he fits those subjects to obey, As heaven's eternal monarch does convey His power unseen, and man, to his designs, By his bright ministers, the stars, inclines. Our setting sun, from his declining seat, Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat; And, when his love was bounded in a few That were unhappy, that they might be true, Made you the favourite of his last sad times, That is a sufferer in his subjects' crimes: Thus, those first favours you received, were sent, Like heaven's rewards, in earthly punishment: Yet fortune, conscious of your destiny, E'en then took care to lay you softly by, And wrapped your fate among her precious things, Kept fresh to be unfolded with your king's. Shewn all at once, you dazzled so our eyes, As new-born Pallas did the gods surprise, When, springing forth from Jove's new-closing wound, She struck the warlike spear into the ground; Which sprouting leaves did suddenly inclose, And peaceful olives shaded as they rose. How strangely active are the arts of peace, Whose restless motions less than war's do cease! Peace is not freed from labour, but from noise; And war more force, but not more pains employs. Such is the mighty swiftness of your mind, That, like the earth, it leaves our sense behind, While you so smoothly turn and roll our sphere, That rapid motion does but rest appear. For, as in nature's swiftness, with the throng Of flying orbs while ours is borne along, All seems at rest to the deluded eye, Moved by the soul of the same harmony; So, carried on by your unwearied care, We rest in peace, and yet in motion share. Let envy, then, those crimes within you see, From which the happy never must be free; (Envy, that does with misery reside, The joy and the revenge of ruined pride.) Think it not hard, if, at so cheap a rate, You can secure the constancy of fate, Whose kindness sent what does their malice seem, By lesser ills the greater to redeem; Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call, But drops of heat that in the sun-shine fall. You have already wearied Fortune so, She cannot farther be your friend or foe; But sits all breathless, and admires to feel A fate so weighty, that it stops our wheel. In all things else above our humble fate, Your equal mind yet swells not into state, But, like some mountain in those happy isles, Where in perpetual spring young nature smiles, Your greatness shews; no horror to affright, But trees for shade, and flowers to court the sight: Sometimes the hill submits itself a while In small descents, which do its height beguile; And sometimes mounts, but so as billows play, Whose rise not hinders, but makes short, our way. Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know, Sees rolling tempests vainly beat below; And, like Olympus' top, the impression wears Of love and friendship writ in former years. Yet unimpaired with labours, or with time, Your age but seems to a new youth to climb. Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget, And measure change, but share no part of it. And still it shall without a weight increase, Like this new-year, whose motions never cease: For, since the glorious course you have begun Is led by Charles, as that is by the sun, It must both weightless and immortal prove, Because the centre of it is above.
SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.
This Satire was, as the title informs us, written in 1662: probably towards the latter end of the year, when Charles, having quarrelled with De Wit, then at the head of the public affairs of Holland, was endeavouring to patch up an union with France, to which kingdom he was naturally partial, against the States, whom he hated, both as a republic, and an association of vulgar merchants. This impolitic alliance did not then take place, notwithstanding the sale of Dunkirk, (conquered by the arms of Cromwell,) to France, for L.400,000. On the contrary, in 1665 France armed in defence of Holland. But this was contrary to the expectations and wishes of Charles; and accordingly Dryden, in 1662, alludes to the union of the two crowns against the States as a probable event.
The verses are adapted to the comprehension of the vulgar, whom they were intended to inflame. Bold invective, and coarse raillery, supply the place of the wit and argument, with which Dryden, when the time fitted, knew so well how to arm his satire.
The verses, such as they are, appeared to the author well qualified for the purpose intended; for, when, in 1672, his tragedy of "Amboyna" was brought forward, to exasperate the nation against Holland, the following verses were almost literally woven into the prologue and epilogue of that piece. See Vol. V. pp. 10. 87. Nevertheless, as forming a link in our author's poetical progress, the present Editor has imitated his predecessors, in reprinting them among his satires and political pieces.
SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662.
As needy gallants, in the scrivener's hands, Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgaged lands; The first fat buck of all the season's sent, And keeper takes no fee in compliment; The dotage of some Englishmen is such, To fawn on those who ruin them,--the Dutch. They shall have all, rather than make a war With those who of the same religion are. The Straits, the Guinea-trade, the herrings too; Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. Some are resolved not to find out the cheat, But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat. What injuries soe'er upon us fall, Yet still the same religion answers all:-- Religion wheedled us to civil war, Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare. Be gulled no longer, for you'll find it true, They have no more religion, faith! than you. Interest's the god they worship in their state; And we, I take it, have not much of that. Well monarchies may own religion's name; But states are atheists in their very frame. They share a sin: and such proportions fall, That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all. Think on their rapine, falsehood, cruelty, And that, what once they were they still would be. To one well-born the affront is worse and more, When he's abused and baffled by a boor. With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do; They've both ill nature and ill manners too. Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: And their new commonwealth hath set them free Only from honour and civility. Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, Than did their lubber state mankind bestride; Their sway became them with as ill a main, As their own paunches swell above their chin. Yet is their empire no true growth, but humour, And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour.[77] As Cato fruits of Afric did display, Let us before our eyes their Indies lay: All loyal English will like him conclude,-- Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued.[78]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 77: Alluding to the hoped for union between France and England, and to the cure, by touching, for the Evil.]
[Footnote 78: Cato is said to have laid before the Senate the fine figs of Africa, and to have reminded them, that the country which produced these choice fruits was but three days sail from Rome. He used also to conclude every speech with the famous expression, _Delenda est Carthago_.]
TO
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE DUCHESS OF YORK,
ON THE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER THE DUTCH, &c.
The Duchess, here addressed, was Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, and first wife of James, Duke of York, afterwards James II. She appears to have been a woman of first-rate talents, as well as exemplary prudence. Of the last qualification she gave a singular proof, when her marriage with the Duke was declared. She had admitted James to her bed while abroad, under a solemn promise of marriage. Many endeavoured to dissuade him from completing this unequal alliance; and that a motive, at least an apology, might be supplied for a retreat from his engagements, Lord Falmouth, Killigrew, and other courtiers, did not hesitate to boast of favours received from the lady. When the king's regard for his minister, and James's attachment to his betrothed wife, occasioned the confirmation of the marriage, these zealous witnesses found themselves in an unpleasing predicament, till the Duchess took an opportunity of assuring them, that she was far from harbouring the least resentment at the reports they had raised, since they believed them calculated to promote the interest of their master and her husband.[79] It may be presumed, that Dryden had already attached himself to the fortunes of the Duke of York, since he so early addressed the princess, whose posthumous avowal of the Catholic faith he afterwards attempted to vindicate.
The victory of the 23d June, 1665, was gained by the British fleet, commanded by the Duke of York, over the Dutch, under the famous Opdam. It was, like all naval actions between the English and the Dutch, a fierce, obstinate, and bloody conflict. The fleets met near Harwich on the 2d June; but the Dutch declined action upon that day, from a superstitious recollection that it was the anniversary of a dreadful defeat, received from Blake and Monk in 1653, in which they lost their famous Admiral, Von Tromp. But on the morning of the third, the fleets joined battle so near the shore, that the thunder of the combat was heard all along the English coast. York and Opdam singled each other out, and lay alongside in close action, till the Dutch vessel (a second rate) was blown up, and all on board perished. The Dutch fleet then dispersed and fled, losing nineteen ships sunk and taken, while the English lost only one. During this dreadful battle the Duke of York displayed the greatest personal courage. He was in the thickest of the fire, when one cannon-shot killed Lord Falmouth, Lord Muskerry, and Mr Boyle, by his side, and covered him with the gore of the most faithful and attached companions of his fortune. Yet this day, the brightest which ever shone on him, was not without a cloud. When the Dutch fleet were scattered, and an active pursuit was all that remained to the victors, Brounker, a gentleman of the Duke's bed-chamber, commanded Sir John Harman, in the Duke's name, to slacken sail. James was then asleep, and the flimsy pretext of not disturbing his repose was set up as a reason for this most untimely interference. The affair was never well explained. The Duke dismissed Brounker from his service, and a parliamentary investigation of his conduct took place.[80] But no adequate punishment was inflicted, and the nation saw, with displeasure, the fruits of a dear-bought and splendid victory lost by the unauthorized interference of an officious minion.
The Duchess, as we learn, amongst other authorities, from an old libel, came down to Harwich to see her husband embark, and afterwards made the triumphant progress to the north, which is here commemorated. The splendour of her reception at Harwich is thus censured by the Satirist:
One thrifty ferry-boat, of mother-pearl, Sufficed of old the Citherean girl; Yet navies are but fopperies, when here A small sea mask, and built to court your dear: Three goddesses in one, Pallas for art, Venus for sport, but Juno in your heart. O Duchess, if thy nuptial pomp was mean, 'Tis paid with interest in thy naval scene. Never did Roman Mark, within the Nile, So feast the fair Egyptian crocodile; Nor the Venetian Duke, with such a state, The Adriatic marry at that rate.
The poem itself is adapted to the capacity and taste of a lady; and, if we compare it with that which Dryden had two years before addressed to the Chancellor, it strengthens, I think, very strongly the supposition, that the old taste of extravagant and over-laboured conceits, with which the latter abounds, was a stile purposely adapted to gratify the great Statesman to whom it was addressed, whose taste must necessarily have been formed upon the ancient standard. The address, which follows, is throughout easy and complimentary, much in the stile of Waller, as appears from comparing it with that veteran bard's poem on the same subject. Although upon a sublime subject, Dryden treats it in the light most capable of giving pleasure to a fair lady; and the journey of the duchess to the north is proposed as a theme, nearly as important as the celebrated victory of her husband.
Accordingly Dryden himself tells us, in the introductory letter to the "Annus Mirabilis," that, in these lines, he only affected smoothness of measure and softness of expression; and the verses themselves were originally introduced in that letter, to vindicate the character there given of them.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 79: See Memoires de Grammont, Chapitre VIII. for the Duchess's conduct towards these _temoins a bonne fortune_, as Hamilton happily calls them.]
[Footnote 80: Even Harman did not escape suspicion on this occasion. Marvell gives the following account of his examination before Parliament:
"Yesterday Harman was brought to the house, to give an account of slackening sail in the first victory. He had a very good reputation at his coming in; but when he said, that Mr Bronkard only used arguments, and justified the thing himself, saying, 'That he had been a madman had he not done it;' and other witnesses clearly contradicting this, and proving, that Bronkard brought him orders in the Duke's name, he lost all credit with us; and yet more, when, upon recollection, he confessed that Mr Bronkard did bring orders as from the Duke: so he is committed to the sergeant, and will doubtless be impeached. Both he and Mr Bronkard, who was also heard, will probably, on Tuesday next, taste the utmost severity of the house." ANDREW MARVELL _to the_ MAYOR OF HULL. _See his Works_, Vol. I. p. 104.]
TO
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE DUCHESS,
ON THE
MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER
THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE THE 3. 1665.
AND ON
HER JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH.
MADAM,
When, for our sakes, your hero you resigned To swelling seas, and every faithless wind; When you released his courage, and set free A valour fatal to the enemy; You lodged your country's cares within your breast, (The mansion where soft love should only rest,) And, ere our foes abroad were overcome, The noblest conquest you had gained at home. Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide! Your honour gave us what your love denied; And 'twas for him much easier to subdue Those foes he fought with, than to part from you. That glorious day, which two such navies saw, As each unmatched might to the world give law, Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey, Held to them both the trident of the sea: The winds were hushed, the waves in ranks were cast, As awfully as when God's people past: Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow, These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow. Then with the duke your Highness ruled the day: } While all the brave did his command obey, } The fair and pious under you did pray. } How powerful are chaste vows! the wind and tide You bribed to combat on the English side. Thus to your much-loved lord you did convey An unknown succour, sent the nearest way. New vigour to his wearied arms you brought, (So Moses was upheld while Israel fought)[81] While, from afar, we heard the cannon play, Like distant thunder on a shiny day.[82] For absent friends we were ashamed to fear, When we considered what you ventured there. Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore, But such a leader could supply no more. With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn, Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. Fortune and victory he did pursue, To bring them, as his slaves, to wait on you: Thus beauty ravished the rewards of fame, And the fair triumphed, when the brave o'ercame. Then, as you meant to spread another way By land your conquests, far as his by sea, Leaving our southern clime, you marched along The stubborn north, ten thousand Cupids strong. Like commons the nobility resort, In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court: To welcome your approach the vulgar run, Like some new envoy from the distant sun; And country beauties by their lovers go, Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show. So, when the new-born Phœnix first is seen, Her feathered subjects all adore their queen, And, while she makes her progress through the east, From every grove her numerous train's increased: Each poet of the air her glory sings, And round him the pleased audience clap their wings.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 81: Note I.]
[Footnote 82: Note II.]
NOTES
ON
THE PRECEDING POEM.
Note I.
_So Moses was upheld while Israel fought._
"And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed.
"But Moses' hands were heavy, and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon: and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side, and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.
"And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword." Exodus, chap. xvii. 11, 12, 13th verses.
Note II.
_While, from afar, we heard the cannon play, Like distant thunder on a shiny day._
The noise of the battle was distinctly heard at London, as appears from the Introduction to our author's "Essay on Dramatic Poetry," where the dialogue is supposed to pass in a barge, in which the speakers had embarked to hear more distinctly, "those undulations of sound, which, though almost vanishing before they reached them, seemed yet to retain somewhat of their first horror which they had betwixt the fleets." And, by the sound seeming to retire from them, Eugenius draws an omen of the enemy's defeat. This whole scene is imagined with so much liveliness, that we can hardly doubt Dryden was actually an ear-witness of the combat.
ANNUS MIRABILIS;
THE
YEAR OF WONDERS,
1666,
AN HISTORICAL POEM.
ANNUS MIRABILIS.
This is the first poem of any length which Dryden gave to the public. Formerly he had only launched out in occasional verses, and, in some instances, on subjects of no prominent importance. He now spread a broader canvas, and prepared to depict a more extensive and magnificent scene. The various incidents of an eventful war between two powerful nations, who disputed the trident of the ocean, and the tremendous fire, which had laid London in ashes, were subjects which still continued to agitate the bosoms of his countrymen. These, therefore, he ventured to assume as the theme of his poem; and his choice is justified by the effects which it yet produces upon the reader.
There would have been no doubt, even had the author himself been silent, that he followed D'Avenant in the choice of the elegiac stanza, in which the _Annus Mirabilis_ is composed. It is sounding and harmonious to the ear; and perhaps Dryden still annexed to the couplet the idea of that harshness, which was so long its characteristick in the hands of our early English writers. But the four-lined stanza has also its peculiar disadvantages; and they are admirably stated by the judicious critic, who first turned the Editor's eyes, and probably those of many others, on the neglected poem of "Gondibert."--"The necessity of comprising a sentence within the limits of the measure, is the tyranny of Procrustes to thought. For the sake of a disagreeable uniformity, expression must constantly be cramped or extenuated. In general, the latter expedient will be practised as the easiest; and thus both sentiment and language will be enfeebled by unmeaning expletives."[83] It is nevertheless true, that Dryden has very seldom suffered his poem to languish. Every stanza presents us either with vivid description, or with some strong thought, which is seldom suffered to glide into tenuity. But this structure of verse has often laid him under an odd and rather unpleasing necessity, of filling up his stanza, by coupling a simile, or a moral, expressed in the two last lines, along with the fact, which had been announced in the two first. When these comments, or illustrations, however good in themselves, appear to be intruded upon the narrative or description, and not naturally to flow out of either, they must be considered as defects in composition; and a kind of versification, which compels frequent recurrence to such expedients for filling up the measure, has a disadvantage, for which mere harmony can hardly compensate. In the passages which follow, there is produced a stiff and awkward kind of balance between the story and the poet's reflections and illustrations.
Lawson among the foremost met his fate, Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament: Thus as an offering for the Grecian state, He first was killed, who first to battle went.
* * * * *
To nearest ports their shattered ships repair, Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed So reverently men quit the open air, Where thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.
* * * * *
Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring; There first the North's cold bosom spices bore, And winter brooded on the eastern spring.
When, after such verses, we find one in which the author expresses a single idea so happily, as just to fill up the _quatrain_, the difference is immediately visible, betwixt a simile easily and naturally introduced, and stanzas made up and levelled with what a poet of those times would perhaps have ventured to call the _travelled earth_ of versification:
And now four days the sun had seen our woes; Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire; It seemed as if the stars more sickly rose, And farther from the feverish north retire.
Of all these difficulties our author seems to have been aware, from his preliminary epistle to Sir Robert Howard; and it was probably the experimental conviction, that they were occasionally invincible, which induced him thenceforward to desert the _quatrain_; although he has decided that stanza to be more noble, and of greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in use among us.
The turn of composition, as well as the structure of the verse, is adopted from "Gondibert." But Dryden, more completely master of the English language, and a writer of much more lively imagination and expression, has, in general, greatly exceeded his master in conceiving and bringing out the far-fetched ideas and images, with which each has graced his poem. D'Avenant is often harsh and turgid, and the construction of his sentences extremely involved. Dryden has his obscure, and even unintelligible, passages; but they arise from the extravagance of the idea, not from the want of power to express it. For example, D'Avenant says,
Near her seems crucified that lucky thief, In heaven's dark lottery prosperous more than wise, Who groped at last by chance for heaven's relief, And throngs undoes with hopes by one drawn prize.
We here perfectly understand the author's meaning, through his lumbering and unpoetical expression; but, in the following stanza, Dryden is unintelligible, because he had conceived an idea approaching to nonsense, while the words themselves are both poetical and expressive:
Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, And view the ocean leaning on the sky; From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry.
In short, Dryden never fails in the power of elegant expression, till he ventures upon something which it is impossible to express.
The love of conceit and point, that inveterate though decaying disease of the literature of the time, has not failed to infect the _Annus Mirabilis_. That monstrous verse, in which the extinction of the fire is described, cannot be too often quoted, both to expose the meanness of the image, and the confusion of the metaphor; for it will be noticed, that the extinguisher, so unhappily conceived, is not even employed in its own mean office. The flames of London are first a tallow candle; and secondly hawks, which, while pouncing on their quarry, are hooded with an extinguisher:
An hollow crystal pyramid he takes, In firmamental waters dipt above; Of it a broad extinguisher he makes, And hoods the flames that to their quarry drove.
Passages also occur, in which, from the author's zealous desire to be technically minute, the style becomes low and vulgar. There is no doubt, that, as Dryden has observed, the proper terms of art may be not only justly, but with the highest advantage, employed in poetry; but such technical phrases require to be selected with great judgment: they must bear relation to some striking and important object, or they are mean and trivial; and they must be at once generally intelligible, and more expressive in themselves than ordinary language, or they are unnecessarily obscure and pedantic. Dryden has failed in both these points, in his account of the repairs of the fleet.[84] Stanza 148, in particular, combines the faults of meanness and unnecessary obscurity, from the affected use of the dialect of the dock-yard:
Some the galled ropes with dawby marline bind, Or searcloth masts with strong tarpawling coats: To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, And one below their ease or stiffness notes.
Other examples might be produced of the faults of this remarkable poem; but it is time to say, that they are much overbalanced by its beauties. If Dryden is sometimes obscure, from the extravagance of his imagination, or the far-fetched labour of his similes, and if his desire to use appropriate language has occasionally led him into low and affected minuteness, this poem exhibits a far greater number of instances of happy and judicious illustration, beautiful description, and sublime morality. The comparison of the secret rise of the fire of London to the obscure birth of an usurper, is doubly striking, when we consider how closely the passage may be understood to bear reference to the recent domination of the Protector.[85] I will not load these preliminary observations, by inserting the whole of the striking passage, on the different manner in which the night, after the battle of the first of June, was passed on board the English and Dutch fleets; but certainly the 71st stanza will not lose, by being an hundred times quoted:
In dreams they fearful precipices tread; Or, shipwrecked, labour to some distant shore; Or in dark churches walk among the dead; They wake with horror, and dare sleep no more.
The verses, in which Prince Rupert and his enemy are compared to a greyhound and hare, after a course so desperate as totally to exhaust both, have been always considered as exquisitely beautiful.[86] The description of the Loyal London partakes of the beauties and faults which are dispersed through the poem. Nothing can be more majestic than her description, "firing the air with her sanguine streamers," and "riding upon her shadow in floating gold." We lament, that the weaver should have been so fascinated with his labours as to commence seaman; and still more, that, after describing her "roomy decks," and "depth of draught," she should furnish no grander simile than that of
----a sea-wasp floating on the waves.
More unqualified approbation may be justly afforded to the whole description of the Dutch homeward-bound fleet, captured in sight of their desired haven; and the fine moral lessons which the poet takes the opportunity to inculcate, from so unexpected an incident. The 34th stanza has a tenderness and simplicity, which every lover of true poetry must admire:
This careful husband had been long away, Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn; Who on their fingers learned to tell the day On which their father promised to return.
I will only point out to attention the beautiful and happily expressed simile of the eagle in stanzas 107 and 108, and then, in imitation of honest John Bunyan,
No more detain the readers in the porch, Or keep them from the day-light with a torch.
The title of _Annus Mirabilis_ did not, according to Mr Malone, originate with Dryden; a prose tract, so intitled, being published in 1662.[87] Neither was he the last that used it; for, the learned editor of "Predictions and Observations, collected from Mr J. Partridge's Almanacks for 1687 and 1688," has so entitled his astrological lucubrations.
The _Annus Mirabilis_ was first printed in octavo, in 1667, the year succeeding that which was the subject of the poem. The quarto edition of 1688, which seems very correct, has been employed in correcting that of Derrick in a few trifling instances.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 83: Essay by Dr Aikin on the Heroic Poem of "Gondibert."]
[Footnote 84: See stanza 146, and those which follow.]
[Footnote 85: Stanzas 213, 214.]
[Footnote 86: See stanzas 131, 132. I wish, however, our author had spared avouching himself to have been eye-witness to so marvellous a chase. The "so have I seen" should be confined to things which are not only possible, but, in a certain degree, of ordinary occurrence. Dryden's ocular testimony is not, however, so incredible as that of the bard, who averred,
_So have I seen_, in Araby the blest, A Phœnix couched upon her funeral nest.
Such chaces, if not frequent, have sometimes happened. In the north of England, in ancient days, a stag and a famous greyhound, called Hercules, after a desperate course, were found dead within a few paces of each other, and interred with this inscription:
Hercules killed Hart of grece, And Hart of grece killed Hercules. ]
[Footnote 87: MALONE's _Prose Works of Dryden_, Vol. III. p. 250.]
TO THE
METROPOLIS OF GREAT-BRITAIN,
THE MOST RENOWNED AND LATE FLOURISHING
CITY OF LONDON,
IN ITS
REPRESENTATIVES,
THE LORD-MAYOR AND COURT OF ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND COMMON-COUNCIL OF IT.
As, perhaps, I am the first who ever presented a work of this nature to the metropolis of any nation, so it is likewise consonant to justice, that he, who was to give the first example of such a dedication, should begin it with that city, which has set a pattern to all others, of true loyalty, invincible courage, and unshaken constancy. Other cities have been praised for the same virtues, but I am much deceived if any have so dearly purchased their reputation: their fame has been won them by cheaper trials than an expensive, though necessary war, a consuming pestilence, and a more consuming fire. To submit yourselves with that humility to the judgments of heaven, and, at the same time, to raise yourselves with that vigour above all human enemies; to be combated at once from above, and from below; to be struck down, and to triumph,--I know not whether such trials have been ever paralleled in any nation: the resolution and successes of them never can be. Never had prince or people more mutual reason to love each other, if suffering for each other can endear affection. You have come together a pair of matchless lovers, through many difficulties; he, through a long exile, various traverses of fortune, and the interposition of many rivals, who violently ravished and with-held you from him; and certainly you have had your share in sufferings. But providence has cast upon you want of trade, that you might appear bountiful to your country's necessities; and the rest of your afflictions are not more the effects of God's displeasure (frequent examples of them having been in the reign of the most excellent princes) than occasions for the manifesting of your christian and civil virtues. To you, therefore, this Year of Wonders is justly dedicated, because you have made it so; you, who are to stand a wonder to all years and ages; and who have built yourselves an immortal monument on your own ruins. You are now a Phœnix in her ashes, and, as far as humanity can approach, a great emblem of the suffering Deity; but heaven never made so much piety and virtue to leave it miserable. I have heard, indeed, of some virtuous persons who have ended unfortunately, but never of any virtuous nation: Providence is engaged too deeply, when the cause becomes so general; and I cannot imagine it has resolved that ruin of the people at home, which it has blessed abroad with such successes. I am therefore to conclude, that your sufferings are at an end; and that one part of my poem has not been more an history of your destruction, than the other a prophecy of your restoration. The accomplishment of which happiness, as it is the wish of all true Englishmen, so is it by none more passionately desired, than by
The greatest of your admirers,
And most humble of your servants,
JOHN DRYDEN.
AN
ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM,
IN A LETTER TO THE
HON. SIR ROBERT HOWARD.[88]
SIR,
I am so many ways obliged to you, and so little able to return your favours, that, like those who owe too much, I can only live by getting farther into your debt. You have not only been careful of my fortune, which was the effect of your nobleness, but you have been solicitous of my reputation, which is that of your kindness. It is not long since I gave you the trouble of perusing a play for me,[89] and now, instead of an acknowledgment, I have given you a greater, in the correction of a poem. But since you are to bear this persecution, I will at least give you the encouragement of a martyr,--you could never suffer in a nobler cause; for I have chosen the most heroic subject, which any poet could desire. I have taken upon me to describe the motives, the beginning, progress, and successes, of a most just and necessary war; in it, the care, management, and prudence of our king; the conduct and valour of a royal admiral, and of two incomparable generals; the invincible courage of our captains and seamen; and three glorious victories, the result of all. After this, I have, in the Fire, the most deplorable, but withal the greatest, argument that can be imagined; the destruction being so swift, so sudden, so vast and miserable, as nothing can parallel in story. The former part of this poem, relating to the war, is but a due expiation for my not serving my king and country in it. All gentlemen are almost obliged to it; and I know no reason we should give that advantage to the commonalty of England, to be foremost in brave actions, which the nobles of France would never suffer in their peasants. I should not have written this but to a person, who has been ever forward to appear in all employments, whither his honour and generosity have called him. The latter part of my poem, which describes the Fire, I owe, first, to the piety and fatherly affection of our monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city; both which were so conspicuous, that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. I have called my poem historical, not epic, though both the actions and actors are as much heroic as any poem can contain. But, since the action is not properly one, nor that accomplished in the last successes, I have judged it too bold a title for a few stanzas, which are little more in number than a single Iliad, or the longest of the Æneids. For this reason, (I mean not of length, but broken action, tied too severely to the laws of history) I am apt to agree with those, who rank Lucan rather among historians in verse, than Epic poets; in whose room, if I am not deceived, Silius Italicus, though a worse writer, may more justly be admitted. I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains, or stanzas of four in alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in use amongst us; in which I am sure I have your approbation. The learned languages have certainly a great advantage of us, in not being tied to the slavery of any rhyme; and were less constrained in the quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with spondees or dactyls, besides so many other helps of grammatical figures, for the lengthening or abbreviation of them, than the modern are in the close of that one syllable, which often confines, and more often corrupts, the sense of all the rest. But in this necessity of our rhymes, I have always found the couplet verse most easy, (though not so proper for this occasion,) for there the work is sooner at an end, every two lines concluding the labour of the poet; but in quatrains he is to carry it farther on, and not only so, but to bear along in his head the troublesome sense of four lines together. For, those, who write correctly in this kind, must needs acknowledge, that the last line of the stanza is to be considered in the composition of the first. Neither can we give ourselves the liberty of making any part of a verse for the sake of rhyme, or concluding with a word which is not current English, or using the variety of female rhymes,[90] all which our fathers practised; and for the female rhymes, they are still in use amongst other nations; with the Italian in every line, with the Spaniard promiscuously, with the French alternately, as those who have read the Alaric, the Pucelle, or any of their later poems, will agree with me. And besides this, they write in Alexandrines, or verses of six feet; such as, amongst us, is the old translation of Homer by Chapman:[91] all which, by lengthening of their chain, makes the sphere of their activity the larger.
I have dwelt too long upon the choice of my stanza, which you may remember is much better defended in the preface to "Gondibert;" and therefore I will hasten to acquaint you with my endeavours in the writing. In general I will only say, I have never yet seen the description of any naval fight in the proper terms which are used at sea; and if there be any such, in another language, as that of Lucan in the third of his Pharsalia, yet I could not avail myself of it in the English; the terms of art in every tongue bearing more of the idiom of it than any other words. We hear indeed among our poets, of the thundering of guns, the smoke, the disorder, and the slaughter; but all these are common notions. And certainly, as those, who in a logical dispute keep in general terms, would hide a fallacy; so those, who do it in any poetical description, would veil their ignorance:[92]
_Descriptas servare vices, operumque colores, Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poeta salutor?_
For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the sea, yet I have thought it no shame to learn; and if I have made some few mistakes, it is only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity to correct them; the whole poem being first written, and now sent you from a place, where I have not so much as the converse of any seaman. Yet though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than recompensed by the pleasure. I found myself so warm in celebrating the praises of military men, two such especially as the prince and general, that it is no wonder if they inspired me with thoughts above my ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that, as they are incomparably the best subject I ever had, excepting only the royal family, so also, that this I have written of them is much better than what I have performed on any other. I have been forced to help out other arguments, but this has been bountiful to me; they have been low and barren of praise,[93] and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful; but here--_Omnia sponte suà reddit justissima tellus_. I have had a large, a fair, and a pleasant field; so fertile, that, without my cultivating, it has given me two harvests in a summer, and in both oppressed the reaper. All other greatness in subjects is only counterfeit; it will not endure the test of danger; the greatness of arms is only real. Other greatness burdens a nation with its weight; this supports it with its strength. And as it is the happiness of the age, so it is the peculiar goodness of the best of kings, that we may praise his subjects without offending him. Doubtless it proceeds from a just confidence of his own virtue, which the lustre of no other can be so great as to darken in him; for the good or the valiant are never safely praised under a bad or a degenerate prince.
But to return from this digression to a farther account of my poem; I must crave leave to tell you, that as I have endeavoured to adorn it with noble thoughts, so much more to express those thoughts with elocution. The composition of all poems is, or ought to be, of wit;[94] and wit in the poet, or wit-writing, (if you will give me leave to use a school-distinction) is no other than the faculty of imagination in the writer, which, like a nimble spaniel, beats over and ranges through the field of memory, 'till it springs the quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all the memory for the species or ideas of those things, which it designs to represent. Wit written is that which is well defined, the happy result of thought, or product of imagination. But to proceed from wit, in the general notion of it, to the proper wit of an Heroic or Historical Poem, I judge it chiefly to consist in the delightful imagining of persons, actions, passions, or things. It is not the jerk or sting of an epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor antithesis, (the delight of an ill-judging audience in a play of rhyme,) nor the gingle of a more poor paronomasia;[95] neither is it so much the morality of a grave sentence, affected by Lucan, but more sparingly used by Virgil; but it is some lively and apt description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets before your eyes the absent object, as perfectly, and more delightfully than nature. So then the first happiness of the poet's imagination is properly invention, or finding of the thought; the second is fancy, or the variation, deriving, or moulding, of that thought, as the judgment represents it proper to the subject; the third is elocution, or the art of clothing and adorning that thought, so found and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding words. The quickness of the imagination is seen in the invention, the fertility in the fancy, and the accuracy in the expression. For the two first of these, Ovid is famous amongst the poets; for the latter, Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, or extremely discomposed by one. His words therefore are the least part of his care; for he pictures nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent. This is the proper wit of dialogue or discourse, and consequently of the drama, where all that is said is supposed to be the effect of sudden thought; which, though it excludes not the quickness of wit in repartees, yet admits not a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or use of tropes, or, in fine, any thing that shews remoteness of thought, or labour in the writer. On the other side, Virgil speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, but in his own: he relates almost all things as from himself, and thereby gains more liberty than the other, to express his thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figuratively, and to confess as well the labour as the force of his imagination. Though he describes his Dido well and naturally, in the violence of her passions, yet he must yield in that to the Myrrha, the Biblis, the Althæa, of Ovid; for, as great an admirer of him as I am, I must acknowledge, that if I see not more of their souls than I see of Dido's, at least I have a greater concernment for them: and that convinces me, that Ovid has touched those tender strokes more delicately than Virgil could. But when action or persons are to be described, when any such image is to be set before us, how bold, how masterly, are the strokes of Virgil! We see the objects he presents us with in their native figures, in their proper motions; but so we see them, as our own eyes could never have beheld them so beautiful in themselves. We see the soul of the poet, like that universal one of which he speaks, informing and moving through all his pictures:
----_Totamque infusa per artus Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet._
We behold him embellishing his images, as he makes Venus breathing beauty upon her son Æneas:
---- ----_lumenque juventæ Purpureum, & lætos oculis afflârat honores: Quale manus addunt ebori decus, aut ubi flavo Argentum, Pariusve lapis, circundatur auro._
See his Tempest, his Funeral Sports, his Combat of Turnus and Æneas: and in his "Georgics," which I esteem the divinest part of all his writings, the Plague, the Country, the Battle of the Bulls, the labour of the Bees; and those many other excellent images of nature, most of which are neither great in themselves, nor have any natural ornament to bear them up; but the words wherewith he describes them are so excellent, that it might be well applied to him, which was said by Ovid, _Materium superabat opus_: the very sound of his words has often somewhat that is connatural to the subject; and while we read him, we sit, as in a play, beholding the scenes of what he represents. To perform this, he made frequent use of tropes, which you know change the nature of a known word, by applying it to some other signification; and this is it which Horace means in his Epistle to the Piso's:
_Dixeris egregiè, notum si callida verbum Reddiderit junctura novum._----
But I am sensible I have presumed too far to entertain you with a rude discourse of that art, which you both know so well, and put into practice with so much happiness. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my master in this poem. I have followed him every where, I know not with what success, but I am sure with diligence enough; my images are many of them copied from him, and the rest are imitations of him. My expressions also are as near as the idioms of the two languages would admit of in translation. And this, sir, I have done with that boldness, for which I will stand accountable to any of our little critics, who, perhaps, are no better acquainted with him than I am. Upon your first perusal of this poem, you have taken notice of some words, which I have innovated (if it be too bold for me to say refined) upon his Latin; which, as I offer not to introduce into English prose, so I hope they are neither improper, nor altogether inelegant in verse; and, in this, Horace will again defend me:
_Et nova, fictaque nuper, habebunt verba fidem, si Græco fonte cadunt, parcè detorta._----
The inference is exceeding plain; for, if a Roman poet might have liberty to coin a word, supposing only that it was derived from the Greek, was put into a Latin termination, and that he used this liberty but seldom, and with modesty; how much more justly may I challenge that privilege to do it with the same prerequisites, from the best and most judicious of Latin writers? In some places, where either the fancy or the words were his, or any other's, I have noted it in the margin, that I might not seem a plagiary;[96] in others I have neglected it, to avoid as well tediousness, as the affectation of doing it too often. Such descriptions or images well wrought, which I promise not for mine, are, as I have said, the adequate delight of heroic poesy; for they beget admiration, which is its proper object; as the images of the burlesque, which is contrary to this, by the same reason beget laughter: for, the one shews nature beautified, as in the picture of a fair woman, which we all admire; the other shews her deformed, as in that of a lazar, or of a fool with distorted face and antique gestures, at which we cannot forbear to laugh, because it is a deviation from nature. But though the same images serve equally for the Epic poesy, and for the Historic and Panegyric, which are branches of it, yet a several sort of sculpture is to be used in them. If some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, _stantes in curribus Æmiliani_, heroes drawn in their triumphal chariots, and in their full proportion; others are to be like that of Virgil, _spirantia mollius æra_: there is somewhat more of softness and tenderness to be shewn in them. You will soon find I write not this without concern. Some, who have seen a paper of verses, which I wrote last year to her highness the Duchess, have accused them of that only thing I could defend in them. They said, I did _humi serpere_,--that I wanted not only height of fancy, but dignity of words, to set it off. I might well answer with that of Horace, _Nunc non erat his locus_; I knew I addressed them to a lady, and accordingly I affected the softness of expression, and the smoothness of measure, rather than the height of thought; and in what I did endeavour, it is no vanity to say I have succeeded. I detest arrogance; but there is some difference betwixt that and a just defence. But I will not farther bribe your candour, or the reader's. I leave them to speak for me; and, if they can, to make out that character, not pretending to a greater, which I have given them.[97]
And now, sir, it is time I should relieve you from the tedious length of this account. You have better and more profitable employment for your hours, and I wrong the public to detain you longer. In conclusion, I must leave my poem to you with all its faults, which I hope to find fewer in the printing by your emendations. I know you are not of the number of those, of whom the younger Pliny speaks; _Nec sunt parum multi, qui carpere amicos suos judicium vocant_: I am rather too secure of you on that side. Your candour in pardoning my errors may make you more remiss in correcting them; if you will not withal consider, that they come into the world with your approbation, and through your hands. I beg from you the greatest favour you can confer upon an absent person, since I repose upon your management what is dearest to me, my fame and reputation; and therefore I hope it will stir you up to make my poem fairer by many of your blots: if not, you know the story of the gamester who married the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the portion, christened all the children by his sirname, that if, in conclusion, they must beg, they should do so by one name, as well as by the other. But, since the reproach of my faults will light on you, it is but reason I should do you that justice to the readers, to let them know, that, if there be any thing tolerable in this poem, they owe the argument to your choice, the writing to your encouragement, the correction to your judgment, and the care of it to your friendship, to which he must ever acknowledge himself to owe all things, who is,
SIR,
The most obedient, and most
Faithful of your servants,
JOHN DRYDEN.
From Charlton, in Wiltshire, Nov. 10, 1666.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 88: Sir Robert Howard was son to the Earl of Berkshire, and brother to Lady Elizabeth Dryden, our author's wife. This epistle is dated from Charlton, the seat of Lord Berkshire.]
[Footnote 89: Probably "The Indian Queen," which was a joint production of Dryden and Howard.]
[Footnote 90: The author alludes to the privilege, anciently used, of throwing an accentuation on the last syllable, of such a word as _noble_, so as to make it sound _nobley_. An instance may be produced from our author's poem on the Coronation:
Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, No action have to busy chronicles. ]
[Footnote 91: These translations are, however, in fourteen, not twelve syllables; a vile hobbling sort of measure, used also by Phayr, and other old translators.]
[Footnote 92: This is one of Dryden's hasty and inaccurate averments. The ancient dramatic authors were particularly well acquainted with nautical terms, and applied them with great accuracy. See a note in Gifford's excellent edition of Massinger, vol. II. p. 229.]
[Footnote 93: We need not here suppose, that Dryden speaks particularly of those to whom he had offered panygyricks: undoubtedly, he had written poems on many subjects, which, remaining unpublished, have not descended to us.]
[Footnote 94: Understood in the large sense, of the regulated exercise of the imagination.]
[Footnote 95: Commonly called a pun.]
[Footnote 96: These notes are all retained in this edition, as well as the smaller foot notes, by which the poet thought proper to explain difficult passages. They are distinguished by the addition of his name.]
[Footnote 97: In the early editions of the _Annus Mirabilis_, the verses to the Duchess are here inserted.]
ANNUS MIRABILIS;
THE
YEAR OF WONDERS,
1666.
1.
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown, Crouching at home and cruel when abroad; Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own; Our king they courted, and our merchants awed.[98]
2.
Trade, which like blood should circularly flow, Stopped in their channels, found its freedom lost; Thither the wealth of all the world did go, And seemed but shipwrecked on so base a coast.
3.
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat, In eastern quarries ripening precious dew;[99] For them the Idumæan balm did sweat, And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.
4.
The sun but seemed the labourer of the year; Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,[100] To swell those tides, which from the Line did bear Their brim-full vessels to the Belgian shore.
5.
Thus, mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long, And swept the riches of the world from far; Yet stooped to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong; And this may prove our second Punic war.[101]
6.
What peace can be, where both to one pretend? (But they more diligent, and we more strong,) Or if a peace, it soon must have an end; For they would grow too powerful, were it long.
7.
Behold two nations then, engaged so far, That each seven years the fit must shake each land; Where France will side to weaken us by war, Who only can his vast designs withstand.
8.
See how he feeds the Iberian[102] with delays, To render us his timely friendship vain; And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.[103]
9.
Such deep designs of empire does he lay O'er them, whose cause he seems to take in hand; And prudently would make them lords at sea, To whom with ease he can give laws by land.
10.
This saw our king; and long within his breast His pensive counsels balanced to and fro; He grieved the land he freed should be oppressed, And he less for it than usurpers do.[104]
11.
His generous mind the fair ideas drew Of fame and honour, which in dangers lay; Where wealth, like fruit on precipices, grew, Not to be gathered but by birds of prey.
12.
The loss and gain each fatally were great; And still his subjects called aloud for war: But peaceful kings, o'er martial people set, Each other's poize and counterbalance are.
13.
He first surveyed the charge with careful eyes, Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain; Yet judged, like vapours that from limbecks rise, It would in richer showers descend again.
14.
At length resolved to assert the watery ball, He in himself did whole Armadas bring; Him aged seamen might their master call, And chuse for general, were he not their king.[105]
15.
It seems as every ship their sovereign knows, His awful summons they so soon obey;-- So hear the scaly herd when Proteus blows, And so to pasture follow through the sea.[106]
16.
To see this fleet upon the ocean move, Angels drew wide the curtains of the skies; And heaven, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rise.[107]
17.
Whether they unctuous exhalations are, Fired by the sun, or seeming so alone; Or each some more remote and slippery star, Which loses footing when to mortals shewn;
18.
Or one, that bright companion of the sun,[108] Whose glorious aspect sealed our new-born king; And now, a round of greater years begun, New influence from his walks of light did bring.
19.
Victorious York did first, with famed success, To his known valour make the Dutch give place;[109] Thus heaven our monarch's fortune did confess, Beginning conquest from his royal race.
20.
But since it was decreed, auspicious king, In Britain's right that thou shouldst wed the main, Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, And therefore doomed that Lawson should be slain.[110]
21.
Lawson amongst the foremost met his fate, Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament; Thus, as an offering for the Grecian state, He first was killed, who first to battle went.[111]
22.
Their chief blown up, in air, not waves, expired, To which his pride presumed to give the law;[112] The Dutch confessed heaven present, and retired, And all was Britain the wide ocean saw.
23.
To nearest ports their shattered ships repair, Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed; So reverently men quit the open air, Where thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.
24.
And now approached their fleet from India, fraught With all the riches of the rising sun; And precious sand from southern climates brought, The fatal regions where the war begun.[113]
25.
Like hunted castors, conscious of their store,[114] Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coast they bring; There first the North's cold bosom spices bore, And winter brooded on the eastern spring.
26.
By the rich scent we found our perfumed prey, Which, flanked with rocks, did close in covert lie; And round about their murdering cannon lay, At once to threaten and invite the eye.
27.
Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, The English undertake the unequal war; Seven ships alone, by which the port is barred, Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.
28.
These fight like husbands, but like lovers those; These fain would keep, and those more fain enjoy; And to such height their frantic passion grows, That what both love, both hazard to destroy.
29.
Amidst whole heaps of spices lights a ball, And now their odours armed against them fly; Some preciously by shattered porcelain fall, And some by aromatic splinters die.
30.
And though by tempests of the prize bereft, In heaven's inclemency some ease we find; Our foes we vanquished by our valour left, And only yielded to the seas and wind.
31.
Nor wholly lost we so deserved a prey; For storms, repenting, part of it restored; Which as a tribute from the Baltic sea, The British ocean sent her mighty lord.[115]
32.
Go, mortals, now, and vex yourselves in vain For wealth, which so uncertainly must come; When what was brought so far, and with such pain, Was only kept to lose it nearer home.
33.
The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost, Prepared to tell what he had passed before, Now sees in English ships the Holland coast, And parents' arms, in vain, stretched from the shore.
34.
This careful husband had been long away, Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn; Who on their fingers learned to tell the day, On which their father promised to return.
35.
Such are the proud designs of human-kind, And so we suffer shipwreck every where![116] Alas, what port can such a pilot find, Who in the night of fate must blindly steer!
36.
The undistinguished seeds of good and ill, Heaven in his bosom from our knowledge hides; And draws them in contempt of human skill, Which oft, for friends mistaken, foes provides.
37.
Let Munster's prelate ever be accurst, In whom we seek the German faith in vain;[117] Alas, that he should teach the English first, That fraud and avarice in the church could reign!
38.
Happy, who never trust a stranger's will, Whose friendship's in his interest understood; Since money given but tempts him to be ill, When power is too remote to make him good.
39.
Till now, alone the mighty nations strove; The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand; And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove, Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.
40.
That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, Who envies us what he wants power to enjoy; Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade, And weak assistance will his friends destroy.
41.
Offended that we fought without his leave, He takes this time his secret hate to shew; Which Charles does with a mind so calm receive, As one that neither seeks nor shuns his foe.
42.
With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite; France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave.[118] But when with one three nations join to fight, They silently confess that one more brave.
43.
Lewis had chased the English from his shore, But Charles the French as subjects does invite;[119] Would heaven for each some Solomon restore, Who, by their mercy, may decide their right.
44.
Were subjects so but only by their choice, And not from birth did forced dominion take, Our prince alone would have the public voice, And all his neighbours' realms would deserts make.
45.
He without fear a dangerous war pursues, Which without rashness he began before; As honour made him first the danger chuse, So still he makes it good on virtue's score.
46.
The doubled charge his subjects' love supplies, Who in that bounty to themselves are kind: So glad Egyptians see their Nilus rise, And in his plenty their abundance find.[120]
47.
With equal power he does two chiefs create, Two such as each seemed worthiest when alone;[121] Each able to sustain a nation's fate, Since both had found a greater in their own.
48.
Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, Yet neither envious of the other's praise; Their duty, faith, and interest too the same, Like mighty partners equally they raise.
49.
The Prince long time had courted fortune's love, But once possessed did absolutely reign; Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, And conquered first those beauties they would gain.
50.
The Duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain, That Carthage, which he ruined, rise once more; And shook aloft the fasces of the main, To fright those slaves with what they felt before.
51.
Together to the watery camp they haste, Whom matrons passing to their children show; Infants first vows for them to heaven are cast, And future people bless them as they go.[122]
52.
With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, To infect a navy with their gaudy fears; To make slow fights, and victories but vain; But war severely, like itself, appears.
53.
Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, They make that warmth in others they expect; Their valour works like bodies on a glass, And does its image on their main project.
54.
Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, In number, and a famed commander, bold;[123] The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear, Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold.
55.
The Duke, less numerous, but in courage more, On wings of all the winds to combat flies; His murdering guns a loud defiance roar, And bloody crosses on his flag-staffs rise.
56.
Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight; Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air; The Elean plains could boast no nobler sight,[124] When struggling champions did their bodies bare.
57.
Born each by other in a distant line, The sea-built forts in dreadful order move; So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, But lands unfixed, and floating nations strove.[125]
58.
Now passed, on either side they nimbly tack; Both strive to intercept and guide the wind; And, in its eye, more closely they come back,[126] To finish all the deaths they left behind.
59.
On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride, Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go; Such port the elephant bears, and so defied By the rhinoceros, her unequal foe.
60.
And as the built,[127] so different is the fight, Their mounting shot is on our sails designed; Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light, And through the yielding planks a passage find.[128]
61.
Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, Whose battered rigging their whole war receives; All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, He stands, and sees below his scattered leaves.
62.
Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought; But he, who meets all danger with disdain, Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, And steeple-high stood propt upon the main.[129]
63.
At this excess of courage, all amazed, The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw; With such respect in entered Rome they gazed, Who on high chairs the god-like Fathers saw.[130]
64.
And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek; Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek.
65.
Meantime his busy mariners he hastes, His shattered sails with rigging to restore; And willing pines ascend his broken masts, Whose lofty heads rise higher than before.
66.
Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow, More fierce the important quarrel to decide; Like swans, in long array, his vessels show, Whose crests advancing do the waves divide.
67.
They charge, recharge, and all along the sea They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet; Berkley alone, who nearest danger lay, Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet.[131]
68.
The night comes on, we eager to pursue The combat still, and they ashamed to leave; Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew, And doubtful moonlight did our rage deceive.
69.
In the English fleet each ship resounds with joy, And loud applause of their great leader's fame; In fiery dreams the Dutch they still destroy, And, slumbering, smile at the imagined flame.
70.
Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, Stretched on their decks, like weary oxen, lie; Faint sweats all down their mighty members run, Vast bulks, which little souls but ill supply.
71.
In dreams they fearful precipices tread; Or, shipwrecked, labour to some distant shore; Or in dark churches walk among the dead; They wake with horror, and dare sleep no more,
72.
The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, Till from their main-top joyful news they hear Of ships, which, by their mould, bring new supplies, And in their colours Belgian lions bear.[132]
73.
Our watchful general had discerned from far This mighty succour, which made glad the foe; He sighed, but, like a father of the war, His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow.[133]
74.
His wounded men he first sends off to shore, Never, till now, unwilling to obey; They, not their wounds, but want of strength, deplore, And think them happy, who with him can stay.
75.
Then to the rest, "Rejoice," said he, "to-day; In you the fortune of Great Britain lies; Among so brave a people, you are they, Whom heaven has chose to fight for such a prize.
76.
"If number English courages could quell, We should at first have shun'd, not met, our foes, Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell;[134] Courage from hearts, and not from numbers grows."[135]
77.
He said, nor needed more to say; with haste, To their known stations, cheerfully they go; And, all at once, disdaining to be last, Solicit every gale to meet the foe.
78.
Nor did the encouraged Belgians long delay, But, bold in others, not themselves, they stood; So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, But seemed to wander in a moving wood.
79.
Our little fleet was now engaged so far, That, like the sword-fish in the whale they fought;[136] The combat only seemed a civil war, Till through their bowels we our passage wrought.
80.
Never had valour, no not ours before Done aught like this upon the land or main; Where, not to be o'ercome, was to do more Than all the conquests former kings did gain.
81.
The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, And armed Edwards looked with anxious eyes, To see this fleet among unequal foes, By which fate promised them their Charles should rise.
82.
Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, And raking chase-guns through our sterns they send; Close by their fire-ships, like jackals, appear, Who on their lions for the prey attend.[137]
83.
Silent, in smoke of cannon, they come on; Such vapours once did fiery Cacus hide:[138] In these, the height of pleased revenge is shewn, Who burn contented by another's side.
84.
Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend, Two grappling Ætnas on the ocean meet, And English fires with Belgian flames contend.
85.
Now, at each tack, our little fleet grows less; And, like maimed fowl, swim lagging on the main. Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, While they lose cheaper than the English gain.
86.
Have you not seen, when whistled from the fist, Some falcon stoops at what her eye designed, And with her eagerness the quarry missed, Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind?[139]
87.
The dastard crow, that to the wood made wing, And sees the groves no shelter can afford, With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird.
88.
Among the Dutch thus Albemarle did fare: He could not conquer, and disdained to fly; Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, Like falling Cæsar, decently to die.
89.
Yet pity did his manly spirit move, To see those perish who so well had fought; And generously with his despair he strove, Resolved to live till he their safety wrought.
90.
Let other muses write his prosperous fate, Of conquered nations tell, and kings restored; But mine shall sing of his eclipsed estate, Which, like the sun's, more wonders does afford.
91.
He drew his mighty frigates all before, On which the foe his fruitless force employs; His weak ones deep into his rear he bore, Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise.[140]
92.
His fiery cannon did their passage guide, And following smoke obscured them from the foe: Thus Israel, safe from the Egyptians' pride. By flaming pillars, and by clouds did go.
93.
Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat, But here our courages did theirs subdue; So Xenophon once led that famed retreat, Which first the Asian empire overthrew.
94.
The foe approached; and one for his bold sin Was sunk, as he that touched the ark was slain:[141] The wild waves mastered him, and sucked him in, And smiling eddies dimpled on the main.
95.
This seen, the rest at awful distance stood; As if they had been there as servants set, To stay, or to go on, as he thought good, And not pursue, but wait on his retreat.
96.
So Libyan huntsmen, on some sandy plain, From shady coverts roused, the lion chace; The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain, And slowly moves, unknowing to give place.[142]
97.
But if some one approach to dare his force, He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round: With one paw seizes on his trembling horse, And with the other tears him to the ground.
98.
Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night; Now hissing waters the quenched guns restore; And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, Lie lulled and panting on the silent shore.[143]
99.
The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, Upon the deck our careful general stood, And deeply mused on the succeeding day.[144]
100.
"That happy sun," said he, "will rise again, Who twice victorious did our navy see; And I alone must view him rise in vain, Without one ray of all his star for me.
101.
"Yet, like an English general will I die, And all the ocean make my spacious grave: Women and cowards on the land may lie; The sea's a tomb that's proper for the brave."
102.
Restless he passed the remnant of the night, Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh; And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, With paler fires beheld the eastern sky.
103.
But now his stores of ammunition spent, His naked valour is his only guard; Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, And solitary guns are scarcely heard.
104.
Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, No longer durst with fortune be at strife; This as a ransom Albemarle did pay, For all the glories of so great a life.
105.
For now brave Rupert from afar appears, Whose waving streamers the glad general knows; With full-spread sails his eager navy steers, And every ship in swift proportion grows.[145]
106.
The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, And, from that length of time, dire omens drew Of English overmatched, and Dutch too strong, Who never fought three days, but to pursue.
107.
Then, as an eagle, who with pious care Was beating widely on the wing for prey, To her now silent eiry does repair, And finds her callow infants forced away;
108.
Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, The broken air loud whistling as she flies; She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, And guides her pinions by her young ones cries.
109.
With such kind passion hastes the prince to fight, And spreads his flying canvas to the sound; Him, whom no danger, were he there, could fright, Now absent, every little noise can wound.
110.
As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, And gape upon the gathered clouds for rain; And first the martlet meets it in the sky, And with wet wings joys all the feathered train;
111.
With such glad hearts did our despairing men Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet; And each ambitiously would claim the ken, That with first eyes did distant safety meet.
112.
The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield, Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, And sheets of lightning blast the standing field.
113.
Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand, And dangerous flats, in secret ambush lay; Where the false tides skim o'er the covered land, And seamen, with dissembled depths, betray.
114.
The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, feared This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, And round the verge their braving vessels steered, To tempt his courage with so fair a bait.
115.
But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight; His cold experience tempers all his heat, And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight.
116.
Heroic virtue did his actions guide, And he the substance, not the appearance, chose; To rescue one such friend he took more pride, Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes.
117.
But when approached, in strict embraces bound, Rupert and Albemarle together grow; He joys to have his friend in safety found, Which he to none but to that friend would owe.
118.
The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, Now long to execute their spleenful will; And, in revenge for those three days they tried, Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still.
119.
Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet,[146] Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way; With the first blushes of the morn they meet, And bring night back upon the new-born day.
120.
His presence soon blows up the kindling fight, And his loud guns speak thick like angry men; It seemed as slaughter had been breathed all night, And death new-pointed his dull dart agen.
121.
The Dutch too well his mighty conduct knew, And matchless courage, since the former fight; Whose navy like a stiff-stretched cord did shew, Till he bore in, and bent them into flight.
122.
The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends His open side, and high above him shows; Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, And, doubly harmed, he double harms bestows.
123.
Behind, the general mends his weary pace, And sullenly to his revenge he sails; So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, And long behind his wounded volume trails.[147]
124.
The increasing sound is borne to either shore, And for their stakes the throwing nations fear; Their passions double with the cannons' roar, And with warm wishes each man combats there.
125.
Plied thick and close as when the fight begun, Their huge unwieldy navy wastes away: So sicken waneing moons too near the sun, And blunt their crescents on the edge of day.
126.
And now, reduced on equal terms to fight, Their ships like wasted patrimonies show; Where the thin scattering trees admit the light, And shun each other's shadows as they grow.
127.
The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest Two giant ships, the pride of all the main; Which with his one so vigorously he pressed, And flew so home, they could not rise again.
128.
Already battered, by his lee they lay; In vain upon the passing winds they call; The passing winds through their torn canvas play, And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.
129.
Their opened sides receive a gloomy light, Dreadful as day let into shades below; Without, grim death rides barefaced in their sight, And urges entering billows as they flow.
130.
When one dire shot, the last they could supply, Close by the board the prince's main-mast bore: All three, now helpless, by each other lie, And this offends not, and those fear no more.
131.
So have I seen some fearful hare maintain A course, till tired before the dog she lay; Who, stretched behind her, pants upon the plain, Past power to kill, as she to get away.
132.
With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey; His warm breath blows her flix[148] up as she lies; She, trembling, creeps upon the ground away, And looks back to him with beseeching eyes.
133.
The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, Which hindered him to push his fortune on; For what they to his courage did refuse, By mortal valour never must be done.
134.
This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes, And warns his tattered fleet to follow home; Proud to have so got off with equal stakes, Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome.[149]
135.
The general's force, as kept alive by fight, Now not opposed, no longer can pursue; Lasting till heaven had done his courage right; When he had conquered, he his weakness knew.
136.
He casts a frown on the departing foe, And sighs to see him quit the watery field; His stern fixed eyes no satisfaction show, For all the glories which the fight did yield.
137.
Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, He stands confessed e'en by the boastful Dutch; He only does his conquest disavow, And thinks too little what they found too much.
138.
Returned, he with the fleet resolved to stay; No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; Domestic joys and cares he puts away, For realms are households which the great must guide.[150]
139.
As those, who unripe veins in mines explore, On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, Till time digests the yet imperfect ore, And know it will be gold another day;[151]
140.
So looks our monarch on this early fight, Th' essay and rudiments of great success; Which all-maturing time must bring to light, While he, like heaven, does each day's labour bless.
141.
Heaven ended not the first or second day, Yet each was perfect to the work designed: God and kings work, when they their work survey, A passive aptness in all subjects find.
142.
In burdened vessels first, with speedy care, His plenteous stores do season'd timber send; Thither the brawny carpenters repair, And as the surgeons of maimed ships attend.
143.
With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, His navy's molted wings he imps[152] once more; Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore.
144.
All hands employed, the royal work grows warm; Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm, And some on bells of tasted lilies play.
145.
With glewy wax some new foundations lay, Of virgin-combs, which from the roof are hung; Some armed within doors, upon duty stay, Or tend the sick, or educate the young.[153]
146.
So here some pick out bullets from the sides, Some drive old oakum through each seam and rift; Their left hand does the caulking-iron guide, The rattling mallet with the right they lift.
147.
With boiling pitch another near at hand, From friendly Sweden[154] brought, the seams in-stops; Which well paid o'er, the salt sea waves withstand, And shakes them from the rising beak in drops.
148.
Some the galled ropes with dawby marline[155] bind, Or searcloth masts with strong tarpawling[156] coats; To try new shrouds, one mounts into the wind, And one below their ease or stiffness notes.
149.
Our careful monarch stands in person by, His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore; The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore.
150.
Each day brings fresh supplies of arms and men, And ships which all last winter were abroad; And such as fitted since the fight had been, Or new from stocks, were fallen into the road.
151.
The goodly London, in her gallant trim, The Phœnix-daughter of the vanished old,[157] Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, And on her shadow rides in floating gold.
152.
Her flag aloft, spread ruffling to the wind, And sanguine streamers, seem the flood to fire; The weaver, charmed with what his loom designed, Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire.
153.
With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves; Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.
154.
This martial present, piously designed, The loyal city give their best-loved king; And, with a bounty ample as the wind, Built, fitted, and maintained, to aid him bring.
155.
By viewing nature, nature's handmaid, art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.
156.
Some log, perhaps, upon the waters swam, An useless drift, which, rudely cut within; And hollow'd, first a floating trough became, And cross some rivulet passage did begin.
157.
In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, And untaught Indian, on the stream did glide; Ere sharp-keel'd boats to stem the flood did learn, Or fin-like oars did spread from either side.
158.
Add but a sail, and Saturn so appeared, When from lost empire he to exile went, And with the golden age to Tyber steer'd, Where coin and commerce first he did invent.
159.
Rude as their ships was navigation then; No useful compass or meridian known; Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, And knew no north but when the Pole-star shone.
160.
Of all, who since have used the open sea, Than the bold English none more fame have won; Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high way,[158] They make discoveries where they see no sun.
161.
But what so long in vain, and yet unknown, By poor mankind's benighted wit is sought, Shall in this age to Britain first be shewn, And hence be to admiring nations taught.
162.
The ebbs of tides, and their mysterious flow, We, as art's elements, shall understand; And as by line upon the ocean go, Whose paths shall be familiar as the land.
163.
Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce,[159] By which remotest regions are allied; Which makes one city of the universe, Where some may gain, and all may be supplied.
164.
Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, And view the ocean leaning on the sky: From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry.
165.
This I foretel from your auspicious care,[160] Who great in search of God and nature grow; Who best your wise Creator's praise declare, Since best to praise His works is best to know.
166.
O truly royal! who behold the law, And rule of beings in your Maker's mind;[161] And thence, like limbecs, rich ideas draw, To fit the levelled use of human-kind.
167.
But first the toils of war we must endure, And from the injurious Dutch redeem the seas; War makes the valiant of his right secure, And gives up fraud to be chastised with ease.
168.
Already were the Belgians on our coast,[162] Whose fleet more mighty every day became By late success, which they did falsely boast, And now, by first appearing, seemed to claim.
169.
Designing, subtile, diligent, and close, They knew to manage war with wise delay; Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, And by their pride their prudence did betray.
170.
Nor staid the English long; but, well supplied, Appear as numerous as the insulting foe; The combat now by courage must be tried, And the success the braver nation show.
171.
There was the Plymouth squadron now come in, Which in the Straits last winter was abroad; Which twice on Biscay's working bay had been, And on the midland sea the French had awed.
172.
Old expert Allen, loyal all along, Famed for his action on the Smyrna fleet;[163] And Holmes, whose name shall live in epic song, While music numbers, or while verse has feet.[164]
173.
Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight, Who first bewitched our eyes with Guinea gold; As once old Cato, in the Roman sight, The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold.
174.
With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, Whom his high courage to command had brought;[165] Harman, who did the twice-fired Harry save, And in his burning ship undaunted fought.[166]
175.
Young Hollis on a muse by Mars begot, Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds; Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, His right hand doubly to his left succeeds.[167]
176.
Thousands were there in darker fame that dwell, Whose deeds some nobler poem shall adorn; And, though to me unknown, they sure fought well, Whom Rupert led, and who were British born.
177.
Of every size an hundred fighting sail; So vast the navy now at anchor rides, That underneath it the pressed waters fail, And with its weight it shoulders off the tides.
178.
Now, anchors weighed, the seamen shout so shrill, That heaven and earth, and the wide ocean, rings; A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill, And rests in those high beds his downy wings.
179.
The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, And durst not bide it on the English coast; Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, And there lay snares to catch the British host.
180.
So the false spider, when her nets are spread, Deep ambushed in her silent den does lie, And feels far off the trembling of her thread, Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly;
181.
Then, if at last she find him fast beset, She issues forth, and runs along her loom; She joys to touch the captive in her net, And drag the little wretch in triumph home.
182.
The Belgians hoped, that, with disordered haste, Our deep-cut keels upon the sands might run; Or, if with caution leisurely were past, Their numerous gross[168] might charge us one by one.
183.
But with a fore-wind pushing them above, And swelling tide that heaved them from below, O'er the blind flats our warlike squadrons move, And with spread sails to welcome battle go.
184.
It seemed as there the British Neptune stood, With all his hosts of waters at command; Beneath them to submit the officious flood, And with his trident shoved them off the sand.[169]
185.
To the pale foes they suddenly draw near, And summon them to unexpected fight: They start like murderers when ghosts appear, And draw their curtains in the dead of night.
186.
Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, The midmost battles hastening up behind;[170] Who view far off the storm of falling sleet, And hear their thunder rattling in the wind.
187.
At length the adverse admirals appear, The two bold champions of each country's right; Their eyes describe the lists as they come near, And draw the lines of death before they fight.
188.
The distance judged for shot of every size, The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires:[171] The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, And adds his heart to every gun he fires!
189.
Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians' side, For honour, which they seldom sought before; But now they by their own vain boasts were tied, And forced, at least in shew, to prize it more.
190.
But sharp remembrance on the English part, And shame of being matched by such a foe, Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, And seeming to be stronger, makes them so.[172]
191.
Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain, Which did two generals' fates, and Cæsar's bear; Each several ship a victory did gain, As Rupert or as Albemarle were there.
192.
Their battered admiral too soon withdrew, Unthanked by ours for his unfinished fight; But he the minds of his Dutch masters knew, Who called that providence, which we called flight.
193.
Never did men more joyfully obey, Or sooner understood the sign to fly; With such alacrity they bore away, As if, to praise them, all the States stood by.
194.
O famous leader of the Belgian fleet, Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, Because he did not of his Rome despair.[173]
195.
Behold that navy, which, a while before, Provoked the tardy English close to fight; Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, As larks lie dared, to shun the hobbies'[174] flight.
196.
Whoe'er would English monuments survey, In other records may our courage know; But let them hide the story of this day, Whose fame was blemished by too base a foe.
197.
Or if too busily they will inquire Into a victory, which we disdain; Then let them know, the Belgians did retire, Before the patron saint of injured Spain.[175]
198.
Repenting England this revengeful day To Philip's manes[176] did an offering bring; England, which first, by leading them astray, Hatched up rebellion to destroy her king.
199.
Our fathers bent their baneful industry, To check a monarchy that slowly grew; But did not France or Holland's fate foresee, Whose rising power to swift dominion flew.
200.
In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, And wander after pathless destiny; Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know, In vain it would provide for what shall be.
201.
But whate'er English to the blessed shall go, And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet; Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, And him detesting a Batavian fleet.[177]
202.
Now on their coasts our conquering navy rides, Way-lays their merchants, and their land besets; Each day new wealth without their care provides; They lie asleep with prizes in their nets.
203.
So close behind some promontory lie The huge leviathans to attend their prey; And give no chace, but swallow in the fry, Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way.
204.
Nor was this all; in ports and roads remote, Destructive fires among whole fleets we send; Triumphant flames upon the water float, And out-bound ships at home their voyage end.[178]
205.
Those various squadrons, variously designed, Each vessel freighted with a several load, Each squadron waiting for a several wind, All find but one,--to burn them in the road.
206.
Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find, Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear; Some for the pride of Turkish courts designed, For folded turbans finest Holland bear.
207.
Some English wool vexed in a Belgian loom, And into cloth of spongy softness made, Did into France, or colder Denmark, doom, To ruin with worse ware our staple trade.
208.
Our greedy seamen rummage every hold, Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest; And, as the priests who with their gods make bold, Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest.
209.
But ah! how insincere are all our joys! Which sent from heaven, like lightning, make no stay; Their palling taste the journey's length destroys, Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way.
210.
Swelled with our late successes on the foe, Which France and Holland wanted power to cross, We urge an unseen fate to lay us low, And feed their envious eyes with English loss.
211.
Each element his dread command obeys, Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown; Who, as by one he did our nation raise, So now he with another pulls us down.
212.
Yet London, empress of the northern clime, By an high fate thou greatly didst expire; Great as the world's, which, at the death of time, Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire.[179]
213.
As when some dire usurper heaven provides, To scourge his country with a lawless sway; His birth, perhaps, some petty village hides, And sets his cradle out of fortune's way:
214.
Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on; His prince, surprised at first, no ill could doubt, And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known:
215.
Such was the rise of this prodigious fire, Which in mean buildings first obscurely bred, From thence did soon to open streets aspire, And straight to palaces and temples spread.
216.
The diligence of trades and noiseful gain, And luxury more late, asleep were laid; All was the night's; and, in her silent reign, No sound the rest of nature did invade.
217.
In this deep quiet, from what source unknown, Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose; And, first, few scattering sparks about were blown, Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.
218.
Then in some close-pent room it crept along, And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed; Till th' infant monster, with devouring strong, Walked boldly upright with exalted head.
219.
Now, like some rich or mighty murderer, Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold; Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear, And dares the world to tax him with the old:
220.
So 'scapes the insulting Fire his narrow jail, And makes small outlets into open air; There the fierce winds his tender force assail, And beat him downward to his first repair.
221.
The winds, like crafty courtezans, with-held His flames from burning, but to blow them more; And, every fresh attempt, he is repelled With faint denials, weaker than before.[180]
222.
And now, no longer letted of his prey, He leaps up at it with enraged desire; O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, And nods at every house his threatning fire.
223.
The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice; About the fire into a dance they bend, And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.[181]
224.
Our guardian angel saw them where they sate, Above the palace of our slumbering king; He sighed, abandoning his charge to fate, And, drooping, oft looked back upon the wing.
225.
At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze Called up some waking lover to the sight; And long it was ere he the rest could raise, Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.
226.
The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire; And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, For helpless infants left amidst the fire.
227.
Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near; Now murmuring noises rise in every street; The more remote run stumbling with their fear, And in the dark men jostle as they meet.
228.
So weary bees in little cells repose; But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive, An humming through their waxen city grows, And out upon each other's wings they drive.
229.
Now streets grow thronged, and busy as by day; Some run for buckets to the hallowed quire; Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play, And some, more bold, mount ladders to the fire.
230.
In vain; for from the east a Belgian wind His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent; The flames, impelled, soon left their foes behind, And forward with a wanton fury went.
231.
A key of fire ran all along the shore, And lightened all the river with a blaze;[182] The wakened tides began again to roar, And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.
232.
Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But feared the fate of Simois would return;[183] Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed, And shrunk his waters back into his urn.
233.
The fire, mean-time, walks in a broader gross;[184] To either hand his wings he opens wide; He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross, And plays his longing flames on the other side.
234.
At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take; Now with long necks from side to side they feed; At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake, And a new colony of flames succeed.
235.
To every nobler portion of the town The curling billows roll their restless tide; In parties now they straggle up and down, As armies, unopposed, for prey divide.
236.
One mighty squadron with a side-wind sped, Through narrow lanes his cumbered fire does haste; By powerful charms of gold and silver led, The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste.
237.
Another backward to the Tower would go, And slowly eats his way against the wind; But the main body of the marching foe Against the imperial palace is designed.
238.
Now day appears, and with the day the king,[185] Whose early care had robbed him of his rest; Far off the cracks of falling houses ring, And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.
239.
Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke, With gloomy pillars, cover all the place; Whose little intervals of night are broke By sparks, that drive against his sacred face.
240.
More than his guards his sorrows made him known, And pious tears, which down his cheeks did shower; The wretched in his grief forgot their own, So much the pity of a king has power.
241.
He wept the flames of what he loved so well, And what so well had merited his love; For never prince in grace did more excel, Or royal city more in duty strove.
242.
Nor with an idle care did he behold; Subjects may grieve, but monarchs must redress; He chears the fearful, and commends the bold, And makes despairers hope for good success.
243.
Himself directs what first is to be done, And orders all the succours which they bring; The helpful and the good about him run, And form an army worthy such a king.
244.
He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, That where it seizes all relief is vain; And therefore must unwillingly lay waste That country, which would else the foe maintain.
245.
The powder blows up all before the fire;[186] The amazed flames stand gathered on a heap; And from the precipice's brink retire, Afraid to venture on so large a leap.
246.
Thus fighting fires a while themselves consume, But straight, like Turks forced on to win or die, They first lay tender bridges of their fume, And o'er the breach in unctuous vapours fly.
247.
Part stay for passage, till a gust of wind Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet; Part creeping under ground, their journey blind, And climbing from below their fellows meet.
248.
Thus to some desert plain, or old wood-side, Dire night-hags come from far to dance their round; And o'er broad rivers on their fiends they ride, Or sweep in clouds above the blasted ground.
249.
No help avails; for, hydra-like, the fire Lifts up his hundred heads to aim his way; And scarce the wealthy can one half retire, Before he rushes in to share the prey.
250.
The rich grow suppliant, and the poor grow proud; Those offer mighty gain, and these ask more; So void of pity is the ignoble crowd, When others' ruin may increase their store.
251.
As those who live by shores with joy behold Some wealthy vessel split or stranded nigh; And from the rocks leap down for shipwrecked gold, And seek the tempests which the others fly:
252.
So these but wait the owners' last despair, And what's permitted to the flames invade; E'en from their jaws they hungry morsels tear, And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade.
253.
The days were all in this lost labour spent; And when the weary king gave place to night, His beams he to his royal brother lent, And so shone still in his reflective light.[187]
254.
Night came, but without darkness or repose, A dismal picture of the general doom; Where souls, distracted when the trumpet blows, And half unready, with their bodies come.
255.
Those who have homes, when home they do repair, To a last lodging call their wandering friends; Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care, To look how near their own destruction tends.
256.
Those, who have none, sit round where once it was, And with full eyes each wonted room require; Haunting the yet warm ashes of the place, As murdered men walk where they did expire.
257.
Some stir up coals and watch the vestal fire, Others in vain from sight of ruin run; And while through burning lab'rinths they retire, With loathing eyes repeat what they would shun.
258.
The most in fields, like herded beasts, lie down, To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor;[188] And while their babes in sleep their sorrows drown, Sad parents watch the remnants of their store.
259.
While by the motion of the flames they guess What streets are burning now, and what are near, An infant, waking, to the paps would press, And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear.
260.
No thought can ease them but their sovereign's care, Whose praise the afflicted as their comfort sing; E'en those, whom want might drive to just despair, Think life a blessing under such a king.
261.
Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief, Outweeps an hermit, and outprays a saint; All the long night he studies their relief, How they may be supplied, and he may want.
262.
"O God," said he, "thou patron of my days, Guide of my youth in exile and distress! Who me, unfriended, brought'st by wond'rous ways, The kingdom of my fathers to possess:
263.
"Be thou my judge, with what unwearied care I since have laboured for my people's good; To bind the bruises of a civil war, And stop the issues of their wasting blood.
264.
"Thou, who hast taught me to forgive the ill, And recompense, as friends, the good misled; If mercy be a precept of thy will, Return that mercy on thy servant's head.
265.
"Or if my heedless youth has stepped astray, Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand, On me alone thy just displeasure lay, But take thy judgments from this mourning land.
266.
"We all have sinned; and thou hast laid us low, As humble earth, from whence at first we came: Like flying shades before the clouds we show, And shrink like parchment in consuming flame.
267.
"O let it be enough what thou hast done; When spotted deaths ran arm'd through every street, With poisoned darts, which not the good could shun, The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet.[189]
268.
"The living few, and frequent funerals then, Proclaimed thy wrath on this forsaken place; And now those few, who are returned again, Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace.
269.
"O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, Or bind thy sentence unconditional; But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, And in that foresight this thy doom recal.
270.
"Thy threatnings, Lord, as thine, thou may'st revoke; But, if immutable and fixed they stand, Continue still thyself to give the stroke, And let not foreign foes oppress thy land."[190]
271.
The Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword; And bade him swiftly drive the approaching fire From where our naval magazines were stored.
272.
The blessed minister his wings displayed, And like a shooting star he cleft the night: He charged the flames, and those that disobeyed, He lashed to duty with his sword of light.
273.
The fugitive flames, chastised, went forth to prey On pious structures, by our fathers reared; By which to heaven they did affect the way, Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard.
274.
The wanting orphans saw, with watery eyes, Their founders' charity in dust laid low; And sent to God their ever-answered cries; For he protects the poor, who made them so.
275.
Nor could thy fabric, Paul's, defend thee long, Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker's praise; Though made immortal by a poet's song, And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise.[191]
276.
The daring flames peeped in, and saw from far The awful beauties of the sacred quire; But since it was prophaned by civil war, Heaven thought it fit to have it purged by fire.
277.
Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, And, widely opening, did on both sides prey; This benefit we sadly owe the flame, If only ruin must enlarge our way.
278.
And now four days the sun had seen our woes; Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire; It seemed as if the stars more sickly rose, And farther from the feverish north retire.
279.
In the empyrean heaven, the blessed abode, The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie, Not daring to behold their angry God; And an hushed silence damps the tuneful sky.
280.
At length the Almighty cast a pitying eye, And mercy softly touched his melting breast; He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, And eager flames drive on to storm the rest.[192]
281.
An hollow crystal pyramid he takes, In firmamental waters dipt above; Of it a broad extinguisher he makes, And hoods the flames that to their quarry drove.
282.
The vanquished fires withdraw from every place,[193] Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: Each household genius shows again his face, And from the hearths the little Lares creep.
283.
Our king this more than natural change beholds; With sober joy his heart and eyes abound: To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, And thanks him low on his redeemed ground.
284.
As when sharp frosts had long constrained the earth, A kindly thaw unlocks it with cold rain; And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, And straight the green fields laugh with promised grain.
285.
By such degrees the spreading gladness grew In every heart which fear had froze before; The standing streets with so much joy they view, That with less grief the perished they deplore.
286.
The father of the people opened wide His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed: Thus God's anointed God's own place supplied, And filled the empty with his daily bread.
287.
This royal bounty brought its own reward, And in their minds so deep did print the sense, That if their ruins sadly they regard, 'Tis but with fear the sight might drive him thence.
288.
But so may he live long, that town to sway, Which by his auspice they will nobler make, As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, And not their humble ruins now forsake.[194]
289.
They have not lost their loyalty by fire; Nor is their courage or their wealth so low, That from his wars they poorly would retire, Or beg the pity of a vanquished foe.
290.
Not with more constancy the Jews, of old, By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent, Their royal city did in dust behold, Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.[195]
291.
The utmost malice of the stars is past, And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, In their own plague and fire have breathed their last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.
292.
Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-raised Jove, from his dark prison freed, Those weights took off that on his planet hung, Will gloriously the new-laid works succeed.[196]
293.
Methinks already from this chemic flame, I see a city of more precious mould; Rich as the town[197] which gives the Indies name, With silver paved, and all divine with gold.
294.
Already labouring with a mighty fate, She shakes the rubbish from her mountain brow, And seems to have renewed her charter's date, Which heaven will to the death of time allow.
295.
More great than human now, and more august,[198] Now deified she from her fires does rise; Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And opening into larger parts she flies.[199]
296.
Before, she like some shepherdess did show, Who sat to bathe her by a river's side; Not answering to her fame, but rude and low, Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride.
297.
Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand like suppliants to receive her doom.
298.
The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train; And often wind, as of his mistress proud, With longing eyes to meet her face again.
299.
The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, The glory of their towns no more shall boast; And Seyne, that would with Belgian rivers join,[200] Shall find her lustre stained, and traffic lost.
300.
The venturous merchant, who designed more far, And touches on our hospitable shore, Charmed with the splendour of this northern star, Shall here unlade him, and depart no more.
301.
Our powerful navy shall no longer meet, The wealth of France or Holland to invade; The beauty of this town, without a fleet, From all the world shall vindicate her trade.
302.
And while this famed emporium we prepare, The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, That those, who now disdain our trade to share, Shall rob like pirates on our wealthy coast.
303.
Already we have conquered half the war, And the less dangerous part is left behind; Our trouble now is but to make them dare, And not so great to vanquish as to find.[201]
304.
Thus to the eastern wealth through storms we go, But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more; A constant trade-wind will securely blow, And gently lay us on the spicy shore.[202]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 98: Note I.]
[Footnote 99: Precious stones at first are dew condensed, and hardened by the warmth of the sun, or subterranean fires. _Dryden._]
[Footnote 100: According to their opinion who think, that great heap of waters under the Line, is depressed into tides by the moon towards the poles. _Dryden._]
[Footnote 101: Note II.]
[Footnote 102: The Spaniard.]
[Footnote 103: Note III.]
[Footnote 104: Alluding to the successful war of Cromwell against the Dutch, in 1653.]
[Footnote 105: Note IV.]
[Footnote 106:
_Cœruleus Proteus immania ponti Armenta, et magnas pascit sub gurgite phocas._ ]
[Footnote 107: Note V.]
[Footnote 108: The planet Venus, which was visible in the day-time about the birth-day of Charles II., was by court astronomers affirmed to be a new star. See page 51.]
[Footnote 109: Note VI.]
[Footnote 110: Note VII.]
[Footnote 111: Protesilaus, the first Grecian who landed on the Trojan shore, was killed in disembarking.]
[Footnote 112: Opdam, the admiral of Holland. See note VIII.]
[Footnote 113: The war began, by mutual aggressions, on the coast of Guinea.]
[Footnote 114: Note IX.]
[Footnote 115: Note X.]
[Footnote 116: _Si bene calculum ponas, ubique fit naufragium._ PETRONIUS.]
[Footnote 117: Note XI.]
[Footnote 118: Note XII.]
[Footnote 119: Note XIII.]
[Footnote 120: Prince Rupert, and duke Albemarle. See note XV.]
[Footnote 121: Note XIV.]
[Footnote 122: _Examina infantium, futurusque populus._ Plin. jun. in pan. ad Trajanum.]
[Footnote 123: Note XVI.]
[Footnote 124: Where the Olympic games were celebrated.]
[Footnote 125: _Credas innare revulsas Cyclades._]
[Footnote 126: "Ahey! what, in the wind's eye, brother? Where did you learn your seamanship."--_Commodore Trunnion._]
[Footnote 127: _Built_, for _build_ or _structure_.]
[Footnote 128: Note XVII.]
[Footnote 129: Note XVIII.]
[Footnote 130: The Gauls, when they first entered the Roman senate, were so much struck with the solemn appearance of the venerable senators on their chairs of state, that, for a time, their fury was absorbed in veneration.--_Liv. His._ Lib. V. cap. 41.]
[Footnote 131: Note XIX.]
[Footnote 132: Note XX.]
[Footnote 133: _Spem vultu simulat, premit alto corde dolorem._--VIRGIL.]
[Footnote 134: _Tell_, for _number_.]
[Footnote 135: Note XXI.]
[Footnote 136: Note XXII.]
[Footnote 137: Note XXIII.]
[Footnote 138:
_Ille autem ---- ---- ---- ---- Faucibus ingentem fumum, mirabile dictu Evomit, involvitque domum caligine cæca, Prospectum eripiens oculis, glomeratque sub antro Fumiferam noctem, commixtis igne tenebris._ VIRGIL. ]
[Footnote 139: A falcon, I believe, is said to _fly at check_, when, having missed her stroke, she deserts her proper object of pursuit for a crow, or some other bird.]
[Footnote 140: Note XXIV.]
[Footnote 141: Note XXV.]
[Footnote 142: _Vestigia retro improperata refert._--VIRGIL.]
[Footnote 143:
_Nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus: occidit horror Equoris, antennis maria acclinata quiescunt._ STATIUS. ]
[Footnote 144: The third of June, famous for two victories by the English fleet over the Dutch in 1653 and 1665. On the last occasion, the fleets met on the third, though the Dutch avoided fighting till the fourth of the month.]
[Footnote 145: Note XXVI.]
[Footnote 146: Note XXVII.]
[Footnote 147:
_Quum medii nexus, extremæque agmina caudæ Solvuntur; tardosque trahit sinus ultima orbes._ VIRGIL. ]
[Footnote 148: Corruptly for _flax_; her _down_ or _fur_.]
[Footnote 149:
---- ----_Quos opimus, Fallere et effugere triumphus est._ Note XXVIII. ]
[Footnote 150: Note XXIX.]
[Footnote 151: Note XXX.]
[Footnote 152: To _imp_, generally, is to ingraft; but here there is a reference to falconry, in which, when the broken feather in a hawk's wing is supplied by art, it is said to be _imp'd._]
[Footnote 153:
_Qualis apes, æstate nova, per florea rura, Exercet sub sole labor, cum gentis adultos Educunt fœtus, aut cum liquentia mella Stipant, et dulci distendunt nectare cellas; Aut onera accipiunt venientum, aut agmine facto Ignavum fucos pecus a præsepibus arcent; Fervet opus, redolentque thymo fragrantia mella._ Æneid. Lib. I. ]
[Footnote 154: Sweden was the only continental ally of Britain during this war.]
[Footnote 155: _Marline_, a piece of untwisted rope, dipped in pitch, and wrapped round a cable to guard it.]
[Footnote 156: _Tarpawling_, pitched canvas.]
[Footnote 157: Note XXXI.]
[Footnote 158: _Extra anni solisque vias._--VIRGIL.]
[Footnote 159: By a more exact measure of longitude. _Dryden._]
[Footnote 160: Apostrophe to the Royal Society.]
[Footnote 161: Note XXXII.]
[Footnote 162: Note XXXIII.]
[Footnote 163: Note XXXIV.]
[Footnote 164: Note XXXV.]
[Footnote 165: Note XXXVI.]
[Footnote 166: Note XXXVII.]
[Footnote 167: Note XXXVIII.]
[Footnote 168: _Gross_, used as a substantive for "main body."]
[Footnote 169: _Levat ipse tridenti, et vastas aperit syrtes._--VIRGIL.]
[Footnote 170: Note XXXIX.]
[Footnote 171: _Expires_, in the unusual sense of "is blown forth."]
[Footnote 172: _Possunt quia posse videntur._--VIRGIL.]
[Footnote 173: Note XL.]
[Footnote 174: Spar-hawk. A lark is said to be _dared_ by any object of terror which makes it sit close.
Farewell nobility! E'en let his grace go forward, And dare us with his cap, like larks.---- ]
[Footnote 175: St James, patron of Spain, on whose festival this battle was fought. See note XLI.]
[Footnote 176: Philip II. of Spain, against whom the Hollanders rebelling, were aided by Queen Elizabeth. See notes XLI. and XLII.]
[Footnote 177: Note XLII.]
[Footnote 178: Note XLIII.]
[Footnote 179: Note XLIV.]
[Footnote 180: _Hæc arte tractabat cupidum virum, ut illius animum inopia accenderet._]
[Footnote 181: Note XLV.]
[Footnote 182: _Sigæa igni freta late relucent._]
[Footnote 183: Note XLVI.]
[Footnote 184: The word _gross_, as already noticed, signifies "main body." It was a military phrase of the time.]
[Footnote 185: Note XLVII.]
[Footnote 186: Note XLVIII.]
[Footnote 187: Note XLIX.]
[Footnote 188: Note L.]
[Footnote 189: Note LI.]
[Footnote 190: Note LII.]
[Footnote 191: Note LIII.]
[Footnote 192: Note LIV.]
[Footnote 193: Note LV.]
[Footnote 194: Alluding to the city's request to the king, not to leave them.]
[Footnote 195: Note LVI.]
[Footnote 196: Note LVII.]
[Footnote 197: Mexico.]
[Footnote 198: _Augusta_, the old name of London.]
[Footnote 199: Note LVIII.]
[Footnote 200: Alluding to the alliance betwixt France and Holland.]
[Footnote 201: The disgraceful surprise of Chatham, in 1667, baffled this prophecy.]
[Footnote 202: Referring to the monsoons, which the navigators fall in with upon doubling the Cape of Good Hope.]
NOTES
ON
ANNUS MIRABILIS.
Note I.
_In thriving arts long time had Holland grown, Crouching at home, and cruel when abroad; Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own; Our king they courted, and our merchants awed._ St. 1. p. 104.
The jealousy of commerce between Holland and England recommended a Dutch war to the nation; while the king, insensible to the many advances made him by the States, cherished a hearty detestation at their mode of government, and the manners of their people in general. Some of the regicides had sought shelter in Holland; and it was only by the uncommon alertness of Downes, the British ambassador, that they were seized and sent to England. Nay, De Witt, and other leaders in the States, kept up a secret correspondence with Ludlow, and the other banished republican English, in hopes that their party might yet find work for Charles in his own kingdom. Meanwhile, they extended beyond measure their personal deference for Charles; willing to avoid a war, which, in any event, must be prejudicial to their commerce, and which, from the valour which the English had displayed in 1653, might probably be unfortunate. But the interest of the East Indian and African Companies, both of which were highly favoured by Charles in the beginning of his reign, and the unatoned injuries which they had sustained from the Dutch, were a sufficient counterpoise to every pacific overture on the part of Holland.
Note II.
_And this may prove our second Punic war._ St. 5. p. 105.
The first being that which the Parliament declared against the States, and which Cromwell carried on with great success in 1653-4.
Note III.
_See how he feeds the Iberian with delays, To render us his timely friendship vain; And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain._ St. 8. p. 105.
France, a nation ever remarkable for seeing, almost intuitively, her own interest, was not willing that the domineering spirit of Cromwell should revive under the restored monarchy of England. Richelieu had been forced to comply, to a certain extent, with the rash, and often impolitic, but always energetic and daring, schemes of the Protector, endeavouring, at the same time, to make them subservient to his own purposes. But when there was no danger of England uniting with Spain and Holland against France, it was much more the interest of that kingdom, that the two great naval powers should waste their strength in mutual warfare, or even that France should assist the weaker, than that she should join with the stronger, to oppress the other entirely. Besides, the French faction, with De Witt at their head, was now paramount in Holland; and the indirect effect of any signal success of the English must be the restoration of the house of Orange, so closely allied to Charles II., and the hereditary enemy of France, to the dignity of the office of Stadtholder; an office, which, with the family who held it, has been uniformly respected or degraded, as the English or French faction prevailed in the United Provinces. The French court had therefore various reasons for making the Dutch "lords by sea," since they could give them "law by land;" and these finally weighed so deeply, as to lead them to take a part, though but a cold one, against Britain in this very war.
The Spanish provinces in the Netherlands had always been the object of French cupidity; and, according to count D'Estrade, a scheme was now formed for dividing them between France and Holland; which, however, the French court took great and successful care to conceal from the party who were to be sufferers. This policy Dryden has termed, "rocking the cradle of the babe of Spain."
Note IV.
_Him aged seamen might their master call, And chuse for general, were he not their king._ St. 14. p. 107.
"As it is on all hands confessed, that never any English, perhaps I might say, any prince, without distinction of countries, understood maritime affairs so well as Charles II. did; so it cannot surprise any intelligent reader, when we assert, that the English navy received very great advantages from his skill and care in matters of this nature. It must indeed be allowed, that he found the fleet, at his restoration, in an excellent situation, and abundance of very able men employed therein; and it must likewise be confessed, to the honour of his government, that he preserved them in their several posts, without any respect to party, which, without question, contributed not a little to the increase of our naval power. How intent he was, for the first ten years of his reign, in promoting whatever had a tendency this way, appears from all the candid histories of those times, from the collections of orders, and other public papers relating to the direction of the navy while the duke of York was admiral, published of late;[203] and, in a short and narrow compass, from the speech made by the lord-keeper Bridgeman, who affirmed, that, from 1660 to 1670, the charge of the navy had never amounted to less than 500,000l. a year."--_Lives of the Admirals_, Vol. II. p. 331.
Note V.
_And heaven, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rise._ St. 16. p. 107.
A comet was seen on the 14th of December, 1664, which lasted almost three months; and another, the 6th of April, 1665, which was visible fourteen days.--_Appendix to Sherburn's Translation of Manilius_, p. 241. Comets, it is well known, were in extremely bad repute among the astrologers of this period. Lilly, an unquestionable authority, treats these stars with extreme severity; hardly justifiable by his blunt averment, that "truth is truth, and a horse is a horse."[204] Dryden himself, not contented with turning these two blazing stars into farthing candles, has elsewhere, in this poem, charged them with causing the pestilence, and the great fire of London:
The utmost malice of the stars is past; And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, In their own plague and fire have breathed their last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.
The evil opinion which the astrologers entertained of comets, they summed up in these barbarous lines:
_Octo Cometa mala hæc fulgendo per Æthera signat; Ventus, Sterilitas, Aqua, Pestis prædominantur Rixa, Tremor, moritur Dux, fit mutatio regni._
Note VI.
_Victorious York did first, with famed success, To his known valour make the Dutch give place;_ St. 19. p. 108.
This battle, one of the most decisive and glorious fought during the war, our author had already celebrated in the verses to the Duchess, immediately preceding this poem; to which, and to the notes, the reader is referred. The famous Dutch admiral Opdam, in his flag-ship, the Eintracht, blew up, while closely engaged with the duke of York in the Royal Charles. Shortly afterwards, four or five Dutch vessels became unmanageable, fell on board of each other, and were all burned by a single fire-ship. Three others were destroyed in the same condition, and by the same means. Two Dutch vice-admirals were killed, whose ships, bearing away, drew many out of the line, so that Van Tromp, who fought gallantly, had, out of a hundred and three ships, only thirty left, to continue a retreating action. This victory was gained on the 3d. June, 1665.
Note VII.
_And therefore doomed that Lawson should be slain._ St. 20. p. 108.
Sir John Lawson, the gallant seaman here mentioned, rose from a mean station in the navy, to be an admiral under the Parliament. He distinguished himself in the Dutch war of 1653, by the incredible damage which the flying squadron he commanded did to the commerce of the States. He entered afterwards into some cabals with the fifth-monarchy-men, a set of pretended saints, who would hear of nothing but a theocracy. It does not appear, whether, on the part of Lawson, this was an alliance of policy or principle; but it cost the admiral an imprisonment under the vigilant administration of Cromwell. He was set at liberty, and declared by the Parliament vice-admiral of the Channel fleet, which he induced by his influence to declare for the Restoration. The admiral was rewarded for this service by the honour of knighthood, and high trust from his sovereign. In the great battle off Loestoff, sir John Lawson met the glorious death which Dryden has here commemorated. He was rear-admiral to the duke of York, and maintained his high character for valour and seaman-ship till late in the action, when he received a musket-shot in the knee, and by its effects was prevented from enjoying the victory, to which he had greatly contributed. He died a few days after the action, in full enjoyment of his country's triumph, and his own glory.
Note VIII.
_Their chief blown up, in air, not waves, expired, To which his pride presumed to give the law._ St. 22. p. 108.
The Dutch occasionally conducted their naval expeditions with great and insolent affectation of superiority. Upon one occasion their admiral sailed with a broom at his main-top-gallant-mast, to signify, he had swept the narrow seas of the English. Opdam, as already mentioned, blew up, while along side of the Duke of York. Some imputed this accident to the revenge of a negro slave; others, to some carelessness in the distribution of the ammunition.
Note IX.
_Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring._ St. 25. p. 109.
This alludes to an action variously judged of, and very much noted at the period. The Turkey and East India fleets of Holland, very richly laden, and consisting, according to D'Estrades, of ten Indiamen, seventeen ships from Smyrna, and twenty-eight from other ports, valued at 25 millions of livres, having gone north about to avoid encountering the English, and finding, that they could not with safety attempt to get into their own harbours even by that circuitous route, had taken shelter in the bay of Bergen. The earl of Sandwich, who now commanded the fleet, the duke of York having gone ashore, dispatched sir Thomas Tydiman with a squadron to attack them. It is said, that the king of Denmark privately encouraged this attempt, on condition of sharing the wealthy spoils of the Hollanders, and that messengers were actually dispatched by him, bearing orders to the governor of Bergen to afford them no protection. If this was so, the English admiral, after lying three days inactive before the bay, ruined the design by a premature attack upon the fleet ere the royal mandate had arrived, when the Danish governor took the natural and generous course of vindicating the neutrality of his harbour, permitted the Dutch to fortify themselves by erecting batteries on shore, and supported them by the fire from the castle, which covered the bay. Notwithstanding this interference of the Danes, which seems to have been unexpected, the English admiral bore into the bay, commenced the assault with great fury, and continued it until a contrary wind, joined to the brave opposition of the Dutch and Danes, obliged him to desist from the attempt. On this subject, we may, I think, conclude, that the attack was premature, if the admiral had good reason to expect the assistance of Denmark, but too long delayed if he was to depend on his own strength. The scheme is thus satirized by Rochester:
The Bergen business was well laid, Though we paid dear for that design, Had we not three days parleying staid, The Dutch fleet there, Charles, had been thine. Though the false Dane agreed to sell 'um, He cheated us, and saved Skellum. _The Insipids._
Another wit of the time says,
To Bergen we with confidence made haste, And the secret spoils by hope already taste. Though Clifford in the character appear Of supra cargo to our fleet, and there Wearing a signet ready to clap on, And seize all for his master Arlington.[205]
* * * * *
Now can our navy see the wished for port, But there (to see the fortune) was a fort; Sandwich would not be beaten, nor yet beat; Fools only fight, the prudent use to treat. His cousin Mountague, by court disaster, Dwindled into the wooden horse's master; To speak of peace seemed amongst all most proper, Had Talbot treated then of nought but copper; For what are forts, when void of ammunition, With friends, or foes, what would we more condition? Yet we, three days, till the Dutch furnished all, Men, powder, money, cannon--treat with wall: Then Tydeman, finding the Danes would not, Sent in six captains bravely to be shot, And Mountague, though drest like any bride, And aboard him too, yet was reached and died.
The following more serious account of the Bergen attempt is taken from a poet, who started with our author in the race of panegyric, on the exploits of the naval war. His work is entitled _a Poem, being an Essay upon the Present War with the Dutch 1666, by John James_.
Trusting the north as the securer way, They court the night for treasures of the day; Sweet spices, gums, and all the sun can boast, Or the indulgence of the Indian coast, Pay tribute to their hopes, which, lest they may Perish near home, in withered Norway stay; Where that rough Satyr, Bergen, is possessed Of the rich spoils of the luxurious east. The port was the dark burden of that womb, Whose liquid bowels are the greedy tomb Of trade and hope, by art improved to be From foes a refuge, boisterous winds, and sea. The worth and safety, though not equal fate Of this fair prize, might Jason's emulate; That yellow fleece, bulls hoofed with thunder kept, And a near watchful guard, that never slept. This cloistered, in the hostile harbour lay, Maintained by castles and a treacherous way. The English, that this proud return did wait, More conscious of revenge than guilty fate, Attempt, with one bold squadron of their fleet, To render vows, though not their hopes, complete. Obsequious to their courage, they dispense Through the sad lake a bloody influence; Which bears in sight of the unfaithful shore, And spoils the freight we would have saved before. Art, fury, all to ruin had designed These joys of peace, but the enamoured wind, Which, like a Phœnix, in that nest would lie, And with a surfeit of these odours die, Thus jealous grown, does with full cheeks oppose These flames, which ships dissembled to our foes. Retreating thence as lions, which some wile, Or stratagem, did of their prey beguile, We cleave the briny element, to meet Dodona, sacred to our Jove, the fleet.
Note X.
_Nor wholly lost we so deserv'd a prey; For storms, repenting, part of it restor'd: Which, as a tribute from the Baltic sea, The British ocean sent her mighty lord._ St. 31. p. 110.
The famous De Witt set sail at the head of the Dutch fleet in person, to relieve the ships, which were still detained in Bergen by the Danish governor. It seems they had found a new enemy in their old protector, who refused to let them sail, until they paid a ransom of 100,000 crowns. The arrival of De Witt made Alfeldt change his note, and the persecuted Hollanders sailed from their harbour of dubious refuge, at no heavier a composition, than leaving the cannon, which they had sent ashore, to mount the land batteries against the English. But in their return, De Witt's large fleet and valuable cargo were scattered in a storm: the vice-admiral, and rear-admiral of the East India fleet, ships of immense value, with several merchant vessels and men of war, were picked up by the English squadrons, and so furnished the tribute which Dryden alludes to in this and the following verses.
Note XI.
_Let Munster's prelate ever be accurs'd, In whom we seek the German faith in vain._ St. 37 p. 111.
Tacitus had informed our author, that the German faith was proverbial, "_Nullos mortalium fide aut armis ante Germanos esse_." Bertrand Von Der Ghalen, the warlike Bishop of Munster, whom the poet pronounces an exception to this honourable distinction of the Germans, was the only ally of Charles upon the Continent, during this war. He burst into the United States, at the head of a mercenary army of 20,000 men. With this force, he over-ran the province of Overyssell, where his soldiers distinguished themselves less by military valour, than by an exorbitant licence, rapine, and cruelty, which did little honour to their reverend general. But his progress was speedily checked by a French army; and, as the elector of Brandenburgh threatened his states with invasion, he found himself compelled to make a separate peace, assigning as a reason, amongst others, the irregularity of remitting the promised subsidies from England. This is rather inconsistent with Dryden's charge, that "money given, had tempted him to ill;" but in such cases, the party subsidized usually thinks he has received too little for his service, as those, who pay him, are apt to suppose he has had too much. Sir William Temple was dispatched, to prevent the Bishop from making the separate peace here complained of, but he did not arrive till after it had been signed.
Note XII.
_With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite; France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave._
St. 42. p. 112.
France, unwilling to expose her infant navy in a war with England, long endeavoured to mediate between the two great maritime states, and did not undertake to support the Dutch in then perilous conflict, until all means of negociation had been exhausted, and the tottering state of Holland rendered immediate aid necessary. About the same time, Denmark, after much vacillating and double-handed policy, at length openly united with France and Holland, against England. The French declaration of war was made in January 1665-6, and that of Denmark soon afterwards.
Note XIII.
_Lewis had chased the English from his shore; But Charles, the French, as subjects, does invite._
St. 43. p. 112.
By the French declaration of war, all intercourse was prohibited between the belligerent nations, and the subjects of England were ordered to leave France. But, in the English counter-declaration, this usual prohibitory clause was qualified by the king's declaration, "That all such of the French or Dutch nation remaining in his dominions, as should demean themselves dutifully, without corresponding with his enemies, should be safe in their persons and estates, and free from all molestation and trouble;" and further the king declared, "That if any of the French or Low Country subjects upon any reason should come into his kingdoms, they should be all protected in their persons and estates, and especially those of the reformed religion, whose interest should ever be particularly owned by him."--RALPH'S _History_. Vol. I. p. 159.
Note XIV.
_The double charge his subjects' love supplies, Who in that bounty to themselves are kind; So glad Egyptians see their Nilus rise, And in his plenty their abundance find._--St. 46. p. 112.
This beautiful and appropriate simile is applied to the liberal supply, voted by the House of Commons, mentioned in the address to the king, at the prorogation in 1665. After reminding the king of their engagement, to assist him with their lives and fortunes against the Dutch, the address proceeds: "The English man useth to speak as he writes, and the English parliament, to speak as they think. No security on earth can be greater than the engagement of your two houses of parliament. _Sed quid verba audiam, dum facta videam!_ As a demonstration of their fidelity, I am commanded to present unto your Majesty this bill, whereby they have given into your Majesty twelve hundred and fifty thousand pounds, to be levied in two years, beginning from Christmas next, by quarterly payments, added to the former royal aid. And, that your Majesty's occasions may be supplied with ready money, we have, by the bill, prepared an undoubted security for all such persons as shall bring their monies unto the public bank of the Exchequer. As the rivers do naturally empty themselves unto the sea, so we hope the veins of gold and silver in this nation will plentifully run into this ocean, for the maintenance of your Majesty's just sovereignty of the seas." It is possible, that the quaint expressions, contained in the last sentence, suggested to Dryden the simile, which so far excels that of the speaker.
Note XV.
_With equal power he does two chiefs create._--St. 47. p. 112.
The Duke of York being the heir apparent of the crown, it was not judged proper that he should expose himself in a second sea-fight, likely to prove as bloody and dangerous as that of the 3d June 1664. Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle were appointed to the command of the grand fleet, in the absence of the Earl of Sandwich, who was then absent, as ambassador in Spain. These two great men had neither of them been bred to the sea. Prince Rupert was well known by the distinguished part which he had taken for his uncle, Charles I., in the great civil war. When the royal cause became untenable on land, he long endeavoured to maintain it by sea, assuming for that purpose the command of the fleet, which had revolted from the Parliament to the Prince of Wales. The Prince did not relinquish his war against the Commonwealth, and their Spanish allies, until his whole fleet had been destroyed, by severe service and tempests. At the period of the Dutch war, age, and a long train of misfortunes, had chastened the original fire of his temper, and taught him that prudence, which he wanted in the civil wars; when, with his impetuous but ill-disciplined cavalry, he usually bore down all before him, but vanished from the field in pursuit of the vanquished, leaving his less successful friends exposed without support. In other respects, he was fitted for a great commander, both by his natural talents and acquired endowments, and was a great favourite with the nation, because, though a foreigner, he bore a heart truly English.
George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, the restorer of English monarchy, united in his person some very different qualities. With a steady, reserved, and even tardy manner, he was in action fierce and daring to the last degree; adopting the most desperate course, with the air and manner of the most cool deliberation. He had signalized himself against the Dutch, during the war of the commonwealth, being in the chief command of the fleet, when they received the dreadful defeat in 1653, to which our poet alludes in the following lines:
The Duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain The Carthage which he ruined rise once more; And shook aloft the fasces of the main, To fright those slaves with what they fell before.
The Duke accepted the joint command with Prince Rupert, in 1665, much against the advice of his friends, who accounted it rash in him to stake upon the issue of a battle the well-earned fame which he had acquired by signal successes in war, and by accomplishing a mighty revolution without bloodshed. But he resolved to exert his talents once more for his country in this trying crisis; a circumstance highly gratifying to the seamen, who crowded to man the fleet, saying, they were sure, "_Honest George would see them well fed and duly paid_;" a compliment more honourable than many of more courtly expression.
Note XVI.
_Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, In number, and a famed commander, bold._--St. 54. p. 114.
When Prince Rupert and Albemarle were about to sail from the Downs, they received advice from the king, that the French had fitted out a strong squadron to join with the Dutch fleet, accompanied by a positive order, that Prince Rupert, with seventy men of war, should sail in quest of the French, and fight them before the intended junction. This order occasioned the separation of the fleet; a circumstance, which, as the intelligence concerning the supposed French squadron was totally false, occasioned a heavy, and, but for the bravery of Albemarle, an overwhelming disaster. On the first of June, the Duke descried the Dutch fleet, consisting of seventy six sail, under the famous De Ruyter, whereas he himself had not above fifty. After calling a council of war, in which it was agreed in spite of all odds to engage the enemy, the Duke began the battle, which was continued with incredible fury during that whole day. The event will be found in the ensuing notes.
Note XVII.
_And as the built, so different is the fight; Their mounting shot is on our sails designed: Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light, And through the yielding planks a passage find._
St. 62. p. 115.
The narrative of this fight, published by authority, has this passage. "It is certain, that they must every where have suffered a much greater loss of men than we, from the difference in our manner of fighting; for they, shooting high, and at a great distance, damaged us most in our rigging; and we, on the other hand, forbearing to shoot but when we came near, and then levelling most at the hulls, must needs have done more execution upon their men." The Dutch, on the other hand, did great damage to the rigging of the British squadron by the use of chain-shot, then a new invention:
Ruyter no less with virtuous fury burns, And prodigies for miracles returns; Yet he observed how still his iron balls Recoiled in vain against our oaken walls; How the hard pellets fell away as dead, By our inchanted timber fillipped. Leave then, said he, the invulnerable keel; We'll find their feeble, like Achilles' heel. He, quickly taught, pours in continual clouds Of charmed dilemmas through our sinewed shrouds; Forests of masts fall with their rude embrace, Our stiff sails mashed and netted into lace, Till our whole navy lay their wanton mark, Nor any ship could sail but as the ark: Shot in the wing, so at the fowler's call, The disappointed bird doth fluttering fall. Yet Monk, disabled, still such valour shews, That none into his mortal gripe dare close; So some old bustard maimed, yet loth to yield, Duels the fowler in Newmarket field.
_Instructions to a Painter, p. 2._
It is curious to observe how long this characteristic difference, betwixt the English mode of fighting and that of the seamen of all other nations, appears to have distinguished them.
Note XVIII.
_Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought: But he, who meets all danger with disdain, Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, And steeple-high stood propt upon the main._
St. 62. p. 115.
The daring spirit of Monk was not more conspicuous at any period of his adventurous life than in this grand and desperate action. Mulgrave avers he saw him charge a pocket-pistol, with the desperate design of firing it into the powder-room, if he should be reduced to extremity. In the course of the action, a chain-shot took away part of his breeches, without disconcerting the steady countenance of the wearer.[206] Having made a sudden tack to avoid a sand bank, his ship carried away her top-mast, so that he was compelled to lie bye for two or three hours to repair that damage, in the face of the enemy.
Note XIX.
_Berkley alone, who nearest danger lay, Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet._--St. 67. p. 116.
Vice-admiral Sir William Berkley endeavoured to fight his way through the enemy, who were five to one. When his ship was a wreck, his crew almost cut to pieces, and himself desperately wounded, he continued to refuse quarter, killed with his own hand several of the enemy who attempted to board, and, at length, when mortally wounded by a musket-ball in the throat, retired into his cabin, where he was found dead, stretched at length upon the table, and covered with the blood which flowed from his wounds.
Note XX.
---- ---- _Joyful lines they hear Of ships, which, by their mould, bring new supplies; And in their colours Belgian lions bear._--St. 72. p. 117.
The Dutch, in the morning of the 2d of June, were reinforced by a fresh squadron of sixteen men of war, giving them a decided and dreadful superiority to the English, whom, at the very first, they had greatly outnumbered.
Note XXI.
"_If number English courages could quell, We should at first have shun'd, not met our foes, Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell; Courage from hearts, and not from numbers grows._"
St. 76. p. 118.
The famous speech of Monk is thus given in the Lives of the Admirals.
"If we had dreaded the number of our enemies, we should have fled yesterday; but, though we are inferior to them in ships, we are in all things else superior. Force gives them courage; let us, if we need it, borrow resolution from the thoughts of what we have formerly performed. Let the enemy feel, that, though our fleet be divided, our spirit is entire. At the worst, it will be more honourable to die bravely in our element, than to be made spectacles to the Dutch. To be overcome is the fortune of war, but to fly is the fashion of cowards. Let us teach the world, that Englishmen had rather be acquainted with death than fear."--Vol. 2. p. 367.
Note XXII.
_Our little fleet was now engaged so far, That like the sword-fish in the whale they fought._
St. 79. p. 118.
The battle was renewed on the second day, with the same desperate courage, which had distinguished the first battle. The English _charged_, as was then the expression, twice through the whole Dutch fleet, doing and receiving infinite damage. But this unequal warfare could not last long, "when, at each tack, our little fleet grew less."
The English had by this time lost, at least, nine vessels sunk and taken; and Monk bearing away with twenty six, being all that remained in a condition to fight, was pursued by De Ruyter with nearly three times that number.
Note XXIII.
_Close by, their fire-ships, like jackals, appear, Who on their lions for the prey attend._
St. 82. p. 119.
Fire-ships, now only employed against fleets in harbour, and seldom even then, were at this time used during every great naval engagement. The Dutch wars, especially, were distinguished by the frequent use of these dreadful engines of destruction on both sides. The last instance, I believe, of their being employed in open sea in the British service, occurred in the engagement of Matthews and Lestock in the Mediterranean, where they did little execution. The reason of their disuse appears to be, that modern fleets consist of a few large vessels, which easily communicate by signal, and are little apt to fall into such confusion as that fire-ships can approach them with safety, and with any chance of effect. In the 17th century, fleets consisted of a very great number of comparatively small vessels, sometimes a hundred and upwards, which, from the imperfect nature of their signals, were perpetually getting into disorder, and affording opportunities for the fire-ships to act with all their fearful consequences. In the battle of Southwold Bay, in 1672, the gallant Earl of Sandwich, in his fine ship the Royal James, after sinking three fire-ships, was burned by a fourth; and the contest of the Harry with three fire-ships, in this very battle, will be found in a subsequent note.
Note XXIV.
_He drew his mighty frigates all before, On which the foe his fruitless force employs: His weak ones deep into his rear he bore, Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise._
St. 91. p. 120.
Dryden has here inverted the order of the Duke's retreat. His disabled or shattered ships were all ordered to stretch a-head, and he himself in the rear, with sixteen of his ablest vessels, his own occupying the centre, sustained all the efforts of the Dutch pursuers. The disabled vessels were therefore the headmost ships, and not placed in the rear, where, in the circumstances, they must inevitably have been taken.
Note XXV.
_The foe approached; and one, for his bold sin, Was sunk, as he that touched the ark was slain._
St. 94. p. 121.
The simile is taken, not very decently, from _1 Chronicles_, Chap. XIII.
Verse 7. "And they carried the ark of God in a new cart, out of the house of Abinadab, and Uzza and Ahio drove the cart.
8. "And when they came to the threshing floor of Chidin, Uzza put forth his hand to hold the ark, for the oxen stumbled.
10. "And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzza, and he smote him, because he put his hand to the ark; and there he died before God."
Note XXVI.
_For now brave Rupert from afar appears, Whose waving streamers the glad general knows._
St. 105. p. 123.
The English, upon the 3d of June, seemed to have nothing left them save the glory of a desperate defence, when, about noon, a third fleet was descried, crowding every sail to the assistance of the vanquished English, or to complete the triumph of the victorious Hollanders. It might have been the French squadron under the Duke of Beaufort, and the naval power of England was ruined for ever. Albemarle, however, bore boldly down towards the advancing strangers, and, with inexpressible sensations, discovered Prince Rupert, with the white squadron of England, hastening to his relief. Betwixt the fleets of Albemarle and Rupert lay some dangerous shoals, noticed by Dryden in Stanza 114. On one of these, called the Galloper, Admiral Sir George Ayscue was so unfortunate as to strand his vessel, the Royal Prince, one of the largest in the fleet, and forced by his own seamen to strike his flag. He was made prisoner by the Dutch, who burned his ship, and, after leading him in a sort of triumph through various parts of the United Provinces, at length imprisoned him in the castle of Louverstein. Albemarle observing the cause of this disaster, and that the Dutch had sent a squadron of their fleet to the edge of the sands, as if to provoke the Prince, acquainted him by signal and message, that he should by no means bear up against that squadron, there being a dangerous sand between them; and that the appearance of the Dutch in that place was to tempt him into the toil. SKINNER'S _Life of Monk_. The English fleets, however, formed a junction, which completed the business of the third day's action.
Note XXVII.
_Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, Still doubling ours, brave Rupert led the way._
St. 119. p. 125.
On the morning of the 4th of June, this long and bloody contest was again renewed. The English were now the assailants, as in the first action. Prince Rupert, with his fresh squadron, led the van, and was followed by Albemarle. The fleets fought their way five times through and through each other; when, after much and desperate fighting on both sides, both the English admirals were disabled, and the combatants, after four days constant and bloody fighting, finally separated, as if by mutual consent.
Note XXVIII.
_This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes, And warns his tattered fleet to follow home; Proud to have so got off with equal stakes, Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome._
St. 134. p. 128.
The poet is here more modest than the court of England, who claimed an absolute victory. Ralph says, with some justice, that "to recount the precise issue of this unparalleled engagement, and ascertain the loss on either side, seems to be alike impossible. Both nations claimed the honour of the victory, and both affronted the Common Father of the Universe with their impious acknowledgments, when they ought to have approached Him in sackcloth and ashes, for having wantonly sacrificed so many innocent, gallant, and meritorious men, in a dispute that common sense, and common honesty, might have adjusted in half an hour." _History_, Vol. I. p. 132. De Witt himself, the sworn foe of England, bore the following remarkable testimony to the gallantry of her seamen: "If the English were beat, their defeat did them more honour than all their former victories. No fleet but theirs could, after the first day's fight, have been brought to engage again. English men may be killed, English ships may be burned, but English courage is invincible." Quoted, in the "Lives of the Admirals," from a MS. history by Wicquefort.
Note XXIX.
_Returned, he with the fleet resolved to stay; No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; Domestic joys and cares he puts away, For realms are households, which the great must guide._
St. 138. p. 129.
The Duke of Albemarle was not more remarkable for bravery in action, than for his hatred of all corrupt practices in paying and victualling the navy. His presence accelerated the necessary repairs, while the sternness of his discipline repressed all those hateful peculations, by which the servants of the public sometimes betray their trust, and sap her dearest bulwark. The satirist alludes to this in the following lines, which he puts in the mouth of the Duchess of Albemarle, hailing her husband's return to port:
Well, George, in spite of them, there safe dost ride, Lessened in nought, I hope, but thy backside; For, as to reputation, this retreat Of thine exceeds their victories so great; Nor shalt thou stir from thence, by my consent, Till thou hast made the Dutch and them repent.
* * * * *
Fall to thy work there, George, as I do here; Cherish the valiant up, cowards cashier: See that the men have pay, and beef, and beer. Find out the cheats of the four millioneer,-- Out of the very beer they sell the malt, Powder of pow der, from powder'd beef the salt. Put thy hand to the tub;--instead of ox, They victual with French pork that hath the p--. Never such cotqueens by small arts to wring; Ne'er such ill huswives in the managing; Pursers at sea know fewer cheats than they; Mariners on shore less madly spend their pay. See that thou hast new sails thyself, and spoil All their sea-market, and their cable coil. Look that good chaplains on each ship do wait, Nor the sea-diocese be impropriate: Look to the sick and wounded prisoners; all Is prize,--they even rob the hospital: Recover back the prizes too; in vain We fight, if all be taken that is ta'en.
_Instructions to a Painter._
Note XXX.
_As those who unripe veins in mines explore, On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, Till time digest the yet imperfect ore, And know it will be gold another day._ St. 139. p. 129.
It was believed by the ancient chemists, that gold (the noblest of metals) was formed in the earth by a sort of chemical process, and might be detected in an imperfect state; in which case the miner's only resource was to close up the vein, and leave Nature to perfect the great work. It was this rooted and inveterate belief which caused so many to give faith to the fable of alchemy. For, if gold was thus gradually formed in the veins of the earth, the alchemist had only to discover the process which Nature pursued in her task, and he obtained the grand secret.
Note XXXI.
_The goodly London, in her gallant trim, The Phœnix-daughter of the vanished old._ St. 151. p. 131.
The former vessel, called the London, had been destroyed by fire. The city now built a new vessel, under the name of the Loyal London, and presented her as a free gift to Charles. This ship was a favourite theme of the poets of the day:
Whether by chance or plot the London died, She'll rise the Loyal London purified. That child, which doth from loyal parents spring, May brag that he's the godson of a king.
* * * * *
No sooner was blown out the London, when London took breath, and blew her in again.
Another bard not only compares the ship to the city from which she derived her name, but proves the captain to be the Lord Mayor, with this slight difference, that he carries his own sword, instead of having a sword-bearer to take that trouble. The passage occurs in a "Poem upon his Majesty's late declarations for toleration, and publication of war against the Hollander, by T. S. of Grey's Inn, Esq."
The Loyal London follows next to these; Some call her the metropolis of seas, About whose walls not Thames but seas now cling, Wondering to see a city thus on wing. Venice no more shall Neptune's darling be, That stays ashore while this pursues the sea; Here valiant Spragge (like the Lord Mayor) appears, Only this difference--Spragge his own sword bears, My lord's supported is by other hands; This rules the sea, while t'other rules the lands: Nor is there wanting to increase his state A cap of maintenance; since his sober pate Still to his active hands commends advice, 'Tis happy to be valiant and wise.
This second London had also the ill hap to perish by fire, being burned by the Dutch, in the disgraceful surprise of Chatham, 1667.
Note XXXII.
_O truly royal! who behold the law, And rule of Beings in your Maker's mind._ St. 166. p. 134.
In this and the preceding stanza, our author, from the improved arts of ship-building and navigation, is led to compliment the Royal Society, then newly instituted, of which he was himself a member.
Note XXXIII.
_Already were the Belgians on our coast._--St. 168. p. 134.
Notwithstanding the exertions made by Charles and his ministers, and celebrated with such minuteness by the poet, the Dutch fleet, which needed fewer repairs, was first at sea, and their admirals braved the coast of England, dating letters and dispatches, "From the fleet in the mouth of the river of London." The English were about a fortnight behind their enemies in preparation, owing chiefly to the difficulty of manning their fleet.
Note XXXIV.
_Old expert Allen, loyal all along, Famed for his action on the Smyrna fleet._ St. 172. p. 135.
Sir Thomas Allen, vice-admiral of the White, and, as I believe, an old cavalier, opened the war by an action of some consequence in the Mediterranean. With a squadron of eight or nine ships, he attacked the Dutch homeward-bound Smyrna fleet, near Cadiz; consisting of forty merchant vessels, many of which were in these days capable of a stout resistance, and a convoy of four ships of war. Allen defeated them totally, killed their commodore, Brackel, took or sunk four of their richest ships, and drove the rest into the bay of Cadiz. He commanded the van in the engagement of July 25, 1666.
Note XXXV.
_Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight; Who first bewitched our eyes with Guinea gold._ St. 173. p. 135.
Sir Robert Holmes, rear-admiral of the White, is called the General's Achates, from the eager fidelity with which he supported Albemarle. The injuries which the African company sustained from the Dutch, and particularly their taking Cape Corfe Castle, had occasioned Sir Robert Holmes' being dispatched to the coast of Guinea in 1661, for the purpose of making reprisals. Having done them some damage on this visit, he returned for the same purpose in 1663; when he took Goree, and the Dutch merchant-men lying there, of whom he made prize, though the nations were not actually at war. He was repulsed from St George Del Mina, the chief of the Dutch forts on the coast of Africa, but was successful in taking Cape Corfe, the principal object of his voyage. He also took from the Dutch a colony in North America, called Nova Belgia, and bestowed on it the present name of New York. The Dutch preferred a heavy complaint against Holmes, for these warlike aggressions. But it would appear, that, if he had exceeded his instructions, he had not disobliged those by whom they were given; for, although he was committed to the Tower, he was speedily liberated, upon pleading, that he had found, on board a Dutch prize, instructions to seize the English fort at Coromantin.
Note XXXVI.
_With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, Whom his high courage to command had brought._ St. 174. p. 135.
Sir Edward Spragge, knighted by King Charles, for his gallant behaviour on the 3d of June 1665, was one of the best and bravest officers whom the English navy (_Leonum Nutrix_) has ever produced. He distinguished himself in the battle of four days, already celebrated; and in that of the 25th of July, which Dryden is proceeding to detail, he carried a flag under Sir Jeremiah Smith, admiral of the Blue. The brunt of the battle fell upon this division, because, itself the weakest, it was encountered by that of Van Tromp, the strongest and best manned squadron of the enemy. Spragge afterwards distinguished himself by defending Sheerness, and by chastising the Algerines. But the last scene of his life crowned all his naval achievements. In the battle of the 11th of August 1672, Tromp and he engaged like personal enemies, so that the conflict resembled less a chance rencontre in the confusion of battle, than a fixed and appointed duel between these admirals. Both were forced to shift their flag aboard other vessels, and instantly renewed with the utmost fury their individual contest. In shifting his flag for the second time, a chance cannon-ball pierced Sir Edward Spragge's barge, and that gallant admiral was drowned, to the grief, it is said, of Tromp, his generous enemy. He left behind him, according to the account both of friends and foes, the character of one of the bravest men and best commanders who ever fought at sea; nor was he less lamented by his friends on shore, for those civilized manners, and that gentle disposition, which almost always attend enlightened valour.
Note XXXVII.
_Harman, who did twice-fired Harry save, And in his burning ship undaunted fought._--St. 174. p. 135.
This alludes to an exploit of Sir John Harman, who commanded the Henry in the four days combat. He belonged to the Blue squadron, which broke through the Dutch fleet; but, the Swiftsure and Essex being taken, his single vessel had great part of the Zealand division to contend with.--"His ship being disabled, the Dutch Admiral, Evertz, called to Sir John, and offered him quarter, who answered, 'No, sir, it is not come to that yet,' and immediately discharged a broadside; by which Evertz was killed, and several of his ships damaged, which so discouraged their captains, that they quitted the Henry, and sent three fire-ships to burn her. The first grappled on her starboard quarters, and there began to arise so thick a smoke, that it was impossible to perceive where the irons were fixed. At last, when the ship began to blaze, the boatswain of the Henry threw himself on board of it, discovered, and removed the grappling irons, and in the same instant, jumped on board his own ship. He had scarce done this, before another fire-ship was fixed on the larboard; this did its business so effectually, that the sails were quickly on fire, which frightened the chaplain and fifty men over board. Upon this, Sir John drew his sword, and threatened to kill any man who should attempt to provide for his own safety, by leaving the ship. This obliged them to endeavour to put out the fire, which in a short time they did; but the cordage being burned, the crossbeam fell down, and broke Sir John's leg; at which instant, the third fire-ship bore down, but four pieces of cannon, laden with chain-shot, disabled her. So that, after all, Sir John brought his ship into Harwich, where he repaired her as well as he could; and, notwithstanding his broken leg, put to sea again to seek the Dutch."[207]
Note XXXVIII.
_Young Hollis, on a muse by Mars begot, Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds: Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, His right hand doubly to his left succeeds._--St. 175. p. 135.
Sir Frescheville Hollis, mentioned in this verse, was the son of Frescheville Hollis, of Grimsby, by his second wife, Mrs Elizabeth Molesworth. His father signalized himself in the civil wars, as appears from a sign manual of Charles II., dated Jersey, December 4th, 1649, authorising him to bear, _or, two piles gules_, quarterly, with his paternal coat, and setting forth,--that in parliament he strenuously asserted the king's prerogative; and, being colonel of a regiment in time of the rebellion, behaved with exemplary valour against the rebels, in the several battles of Kenton, Banbury, Brantford, Newark, Atherton, Bradford, and Newbury; and when the rebels had possessed themselves of the chief places of England, he with no less fortitude engaged with those that were besieged by them in Colchester.
How Sir Frescheville Hollis' mother merited the title of a muse, or by what writings he signalised himself, I am really ignorant. There were few men of quality who did not at this time aspire to something of a literary character. As the taste for conceits began to decay before the turn for ridicule and _persiflage_, which characterised the wits of the court of Charles, Dryden was often ridiculed for the pedigree he has assigned to this literary champion. Buckingham alludes to it in his "Poetical Reflections on the Poem of Absalom and Achitophel," where he calls Dryden, a
---- ---- metaphor of man, Got on a muse by Father Publican: For 'tis not harder much if we tax nature, That lines should give a poet such a feature, Than that his verse a hero should us shew, Produced by such a feat, as famous too.
The noble author of this flat parody informs us, by marginal notes, that the "Father Publican" means a committee man, and adds on the word Hero, "See's Sir _Denzil_ Hollis." By which, by the way, we may notice, that his Grace's accuracy was much of a piece with his poetry; for the hero's name was Frescheville.
Sir Frescheville Hollis was a man of high spirit and enterprise. He lost an arm in the great sea-fight of the 3d June, a circumstance alluded to in the verses. He was Rear-Admiral of the squadron, with which Sir Robert Holmes attacked the Dutch Smyrna fleet, near the Isle of Wight, in 1671-2. Finally, he was killed in the desperate action off Southwould bay, 28th May, 1672. There is a remarkable passage in his will, made on the 17th May, 1665; by which, after stating he was going to sea, as commander of a man-of-war, he directs,--"In case my body should be brought to land to be buried, I desire that some stone may be laid over me, with this inscription:--Know, reader, whatsoever thou be, if I had lived, it was my intent not to have owed my memory to any other monument but what my sword should raise for me of honour and victory."--_Collins' Historical Collections of the families of Cavendish, Hollis, &c. page 74_.
Note XXXIX.
_Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, The midmost battles hastening up behind_.--St. 186. p. 137.
The particulars of the memorable engagement, thus introduced and described in the following stanzas, are thus narrated in the "Lives of the Admirals." Vol. 11.
"On the 25th of July, about noon, the English came up with the enemy, off the North-foreland. Sir Thomas Allen with the White squadron began the battle, by attacking Evertz. Prince Rupert and the Duke, about one in the afternoon, made a desperate attack upon de Ruyter, and, after fighting about three hours, were obliged to go on board another ship. In this space, the White squadron had entirely defeated their enemies; Admiral Evertz, his vice-admiral de Vries, and his rear-admiral Kœnders, being all killed, the vice-admiral of Zealand taken, and another ship of 50 guns burnt. The prince and duke fought de Ruyter ship to ship, disabled the Guelderland of 66 guns, which was one of his seconds, killed the captain of another, and mortally wounded two more, upon which the Dutch squadron began to fly. However, vice-admiral Van-Nes stood bravely by de Ruyter, and received great damage; yet, being at last deserted by all but seven ships, they yielded to necessity, and followed the rest of their fleet as fast as they could. De Ruyter's ship was so miserably torn, and his crew so dispirited and fatigued, that he could have made but little resistance, and nothing but the want of wind hindered the English from boarding him. As for admiral Van Tromp, he was engaged with Sir Jeremiah Smith at a distance, and so could not assist his friends. As his was the strongest squadron of the Dutch fleet, and Smith's the weakest of the English, we had not great advantage on that side; yet some we had, his vice-admiral's ship being disabled, and his rear-admiral killed; which, however, did not hinder his fighting it out with much bravery, as long as there was light.
"Admiral de Ruyter continued his retreat that night, and the next day Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle pursued him with part of the Red squadron, as fast as the wind would permit. A fire-ship bore down upon the Dutch admiral, and missed very little of setting him on fire. They then cannonaded again, when de Ruyter found himself so hard pressed, and his fleet in such eminent danger, that, in a fit of despair, he cried out, 'My God, what a wretch am I! amongst so many thousand bullets, is not there one to put me out of my pain?' By degrees, however, he drew near their own shallow coast, where the English could not follow him. Upon this occasion, Prince Rupert insulted the Dutch admiral, by sending a little shallop, called the Fanfan, with two small guns on board, which, being rowed near de Ruyter's vessel, fired upon him for two hours together; but at last a ball from the Dutch admiral so damaged his contemptible enemy, that the crew were forced to row, and that briskly, to save their lives. The enemy being driven over the flats into the wylings, the English went to lie at Schonevelt, the usual rendezvous of the Dutch fleets."
Note XL.
_O famous leader of the Belgian fleet, Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, Because he did not of his Rome despair_.--St. 194. p. 139.
Michael Adrien de Ruyter, a gallant and successful admiral, was born in 1607, chosen lieutenant-admiral of the States in 1666, and died in 1676, being mortally wounded in an engagement with the French in Sicily. Dryden compares him to Terentius Varro, who commanded the Romans at the battle of Cannæ, and to whom, after that dreadful defeat, the senate voted their thanks,--"_Quia de Republica non desperasset._"
Note XLI.
_Then let them know, the Belgians did retire Before the patron saint of injured Spain._ St. 197. p. 139.
The battle was fought on the 25th of July, which is the day of St James, the tutelar saint of Spain. From this circumstance, the poet takes an opportunity, in the following stanzas, to inculcate a political doctrine, which the war with Holland and France had rendered fashionable. It contains an impeachment of the policy of Queen Elizabeth, who, by supporting the Netherlands against Philip of Spain, laid, as our author contends, the foundation for rebellion, and the establishment of a republic in England. The power of the Spanish monarchy, the poet avers, was slower in its growth, and a less reasonable object of jealousy to the English, than the more active and energetic governments of France and Holland.
Note XLII.
_But whate'er English to the blessed shall go, And the fourth Henry or first Orange meet, Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, And him detesting a Batavian fleet._ St. 201. p. 140.
The poet here follows up the doctrine he has laid down, by a very bold averment, that Henry IV. of France, and the first Prince of Orange, instructed in sound policy by their translation to the blessed, would, the one disown the war against Henry III. into which he was compelled to enter to vindicate his right of succession to the crown against the immediate possessor, and the other detest the Dutch naval power, although the only means which could secure his country's independence.
Note XLIII.
_Nor was this all: in ports and roads remote, Destructive fires among whole fleets we send; Triumphant flames upon the waters float, And out-bound ships at home their voyage end._ St. 204. p. 140.
Immediately after the battle of the 25th, the victorious fleet of England sailed for the Dutch coast, to attack the islands of Vlie and Schelling; for which purpose, a squadron, well manned, and with a sufficient number of fire-ships, was detached under the command of Sir Robert Holmes. "On the 8th of July, about seven in the morning, this squadron weighed, divided from the rest of the fleet, and came to anchor about a league from the Buoys, where they met the prince's pleasure-boat, called the Fanfan, who had discovered in the harbour a considerable number of ships near the Vlie, which proved to be 170 merchant-ships, the least of which was not less than 200 ton burden, with two men of war, which had lately conveyed near a hundred of the aforesaid ships from the northward, homeward-bound, some from the Straits, some from Guinea, some from Russia, some from the East countries; the rest were outward-bound ships, all of which likewise were very richly laden.
"Sir Robert Holmes, considering that, if he should proceed, as his design was first, to attempt a descent upon the land, that numerous fleet might possibly pour in such numbers of men, as might render the success hazardous, resolved to begin with the ships; and, accordingly, having ordered the Advice and the Hampshire to lie without the Buoys, he weighed with the rest of his fleet; and, the wind being contrary, he turned, with much ado, into Schelling road, where the Tyger came to anchor, and immediately Sir Robert went on board the Fanfan, and hoisted his flag, upon which the officers came on board him, and there it was ordered that the Pembroke, which drew the least water, with the fire-ships, should fall in amongst the enemy's fleet, with what speed they could. Captain Brown, with his fire-ships, chose very bravely to lay the biggest man of war aboard, and burned him downright. Another fire-ship, running up at the same time to the other man of war, he, backing his sails, escaped the present execution of the fire-ship, but so as to run himself by it on ground, where he was presently taken by some of the long-boats, and fired. The other three fire-ships clapped the three great merchant-men on board, which carried flags in their main-tops, and burned them. This put their fleet into great confusion, which Sir Robert Holmes perceiving, made a signal for all the officers to come on board again, and presently gave orders that Sir William Jennings, with all the boats that could be spared, should take the advantage, and fall in, sink, burn, and destroy all they could, but with a strict command that they should not plunder. The execution was so well followed, each captain destroying his share, some twelve, some fifteen merchant-men, that, of the whole fleet, there escaped not above eight or nine ships, one of which was a Guinea man of war, of 24 guns, and three small privateers. These ships, being driven up into a narrower corner of the stream, served to protect four or five merchant men that were a-head of them, where it was not possible for our boats to come at them, though even these few were much damaged.
"The next day, being the 10th of August, it was found more expedient to land upon the coast of Schelling, than upon Vlie, which was performed by Sir Robert Holmes, with eleven companies, in his long-boats, and he landed with little or no opposition. When he came on shore, he left one company to secure his boats, and with the other ten marched three miles up into the country, to the capital town, called Brandaris, in which there were upwards of a thousand fine houses; where, keeping five companies upon the skirt of the town, to prevent any surprise of the enemy, he sent the other five to set fire to the place: But, finding them somewhat slow to execute that order, and fearing they might be tempted to forget themselves in the pillage, he was himself forced to set fire to some houses to the windward, the sooner to dispatch the work, and hasten his men away, which burned with such violence, that in half an hour's time most part of the town was in a light flame. This place was reported, by those who were found in it, to have been very rich, and so it appeared by some of the soldiers' pockets; but very few people were to be seen there, having had time to escape from the danger, except some old men and women, who were used by the English, after they fell into their hands, with all possible gentleness and humanity.
"This blow greatly affected the Dutch, who, according to their own accounts, suffered the loss of near six millions of guilders; and, if we take the ships into this computation, they confess they were losers to the amount of eleven millions, or one million, one hundred thousand pounds sterling."--_Lives of the Admirals_, Vol. II. p. 269, from the account of Sir Robert Holmes.
Note XLIV.
_Yet London, empress of the northern clime, By a high fate thou greatly didst expire; Great as the world's, which, at the death of Time, Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire._ St. 212. p. 142.
_"Esse quoque in fatis reminiscitur, adfore tempus, Quo mare, quo tellus, correptaque regia cœli Ardeat; et mundi moles operosa laboret."_ OVID. _Metam._ Lib. I.
The dreadful Fire of London befel almost ere the inhabitants had done with rejoicing over the flames which consumed the fleet at Vlie, and the town of Brandaris. This horrible conflagration took its rise in the house of one Farryner, an obscure baker in Pudding-lane, near New Fish Street. It broke out on the night preceding the 2d September, 1666, with astonishing fury; and the houses in the lane, and its neighbourhood, being entirely constructed of timber, warped, and dried by a long drought, its progress was soon so rapid, that the inhabitants were content to escape from it with their lives, without attempting to save their moveables, far less to intercept the progress of the conflagration. In the morning, the attempts to stop a fire, now become so general, and which raged amidst such combustible buildings, proved totally ineffectual. The narrowness of the streets, and the nature of the houses was such, that, where one house was on fire, the devastation soon became general; and a strong east wind (a Belgian wind, as Dryden calls it), prevailing through the whole day, the flames, by various means of approach, occupied and surrounded the greater part of the city, properly so called. The magazines of naval stores, pitch, tar, hemp, dried wood, and other materials for shipping, which occupied the yards by the side of the river, soon caught the flames, to which they afforded a most horrible supply of strength and nourishment. All help seemed now to be in vain; for it is one thing to quench a fire, which has only occupied a few houses, and against which all the skill and exertion of those best qualified to check its progress can be at once directed, and another to extinguish a conflagration which occupies many streets, and which, if quelled in one spot where skillfully opposed, is triumphant in many others, where its ravages are only the object of wonder and lamentation to the heartless and ignorant citizens. At length universal destruction and dismay prevented the adoption of uniform or effectual measures against the destruction which seemed to impend in every quarter. The progress and extinction of this horrible fire will be learned from the text, and the following notes.
Note XLV.
_The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice; About the fire into a dance they bend, And sing their Sabbath notes with feeble voice._ St. 223. p. 144.
This most beautiful stanza requires but little illustration. London Bridge, as early as Shakespeare's time, was a place allotted for affixing the heads of persons executed for treason. Thus Catesby to Hastings,
The princes both make high account of you-- --For they account his head upon the _bridge_.
The skulls of the regicides, of the fifth-monarchy insurgents, of Philips, Gibb, Tongue, and other fanatics executed for a conspiracy in 1662, were placed on the Bridge, Towerhill, Temple-bar, and other conspicuous places of elevation; that of the famous Hugh Peters, in particular, was stationed upon the bridge. The _Sabbath notes_, imputed to this assembly of fanatic spectres, are the infernal hymns chaunted at the witches' Sabbath; a meeting, concerning which antiquity told and believed many strange things.
Note XLVI.
_Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But feared the fate of Simois would return._ St. 232. p. 145.
Dryden, in the hurry of composition, has here made a slight inaccuracy. It was not Simois, but Xanthus, otherwise called Scamander, who, having undertaken to drown Achilles, was nearly dried up by the devouring fires of Vulcan. He called, indeed, upon his brother river to assist him in his undertaking, but Simois appears to have maintained a prudent neutrality. See the _Iliad_, Book XXI.
Note XLVII.
_Now day appears, and with the day the king._ St. 238. p. 146.
The king, by his conduct during this emergency, gained more upon the hearts of his subjects, than by any action of his life. Completely awakened, by so dreadful an emergence, from his usual lethargy of pleasure and indolence, he came into the now half-burned city, with his brother and the nobility, and gave an admirable specimen of what his character was capable, when in a state of full exertion. Not contented with passive expressions of sorrow and sympathy, he issued the most prudent orders, and animated their execution by his presence. His anxiety was divided betwixt the task of stopping the conflagration, and the no less necessary and piteous duty of relieving those thousands, who, having lost their all by the fire, had neither a morsel of food, nor a place of shelter. For the one purpose, he spared neither commands, threats, example, nor liberal rewards, which he lavished with his own hand; for the other, he opened his naval and military magazines, and distributed among the miserable and starving sufferers, the provisions designed for his fleet and army. In fine, such were his exertions, and so grateful were his people, that they deemed his presence had an almost supernatural power, and clamourously entreated not to be deprived of it, when, after the fire was quenched, he was about to leave London.
Note XLVIII.
_The powder blows up all before the fire._ St. 245. p. 147.
"So many houses were now burning together, that water could not be had in sufficient quantities where it was wanted. The only remedy left was, to blow up houses at convenient distances from those which were on fire, and to make, by that means, void spaces, at which the fury of the conflagration should spend itself for want of fuel. But this means also proved ineffectual; for the fire, in some places, made its way by means of the combustible part of the rubbish of the ruined houses, not well cleared, and in others, by flakes of burning matter of different kinds, which were carried through the air, by the impetuous wind, to great distances. And the city being at that time almost all built of very old timber, which had besides been parched and scorched by the sun the whole preceding summer, one of the hottest and dryest that had been ever known, it came to pass that, wherever such fiery matter chanced to light, it seldom wanted fit fuel to work and feed upon."--_Baker's Chronicle_, p. 642. Edit. 1730.
Note XLIX.
_The days were all in this lost labour spent; And, when the weary king gave place to night, His beams he to his royal brother lent, And so shone still in his reflective light._ St. 253. p. 149.
The Duke of York was as active and vigilant as his brother upon this melancholy occasion. His exertions and seasonable directions, prevented the fire from breaking out afresh from the Inner Temple, after it had been got under in other places of the town. Yet the idle calumny, which stigmatized the Roman Catholics, as the authors of the conflagration, was often extended to James himself. In that tissue of falsehood and misrepresentation, which Titus Oates entitled, "A Picture of the Late King James," he charges him "with beholding the flames with joy, and the ruins with much rejoicing," p. 30, and says he would have impeached him, as an accessary to the raising of that fire, had he not promised to Prince Rupert to bring forward no accusation that could hurt the king; "for I could not charge you," says he, "but must charge him too." In which case, by the way, this able witness would have made the king accessary to his own murder, which, according to Oates' own evidence, was to have been perpetrated during the fire, had not the hearts of the Jesuits failed them, on seeing the zeal with which he laboured to extinguish it.
Note L.
_The most, in fields, like herded beasts, lie down, To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor._ St. 258. p. 149.
In this, and foregoing verses, the miseries of those, whose houses were consumed, are strikingly painted. Many fled for refuge to the houses of friends, and lodged there the remnants of their property, which they had been able to save. These were often forced to abandon their places of asylum, by a fresh invasion of the devouring element, and to yield up to its rage all which they had before rescued. At length, distrusting safety in the city itself, the villages in its vicinity soon became filled with fugitives, till, in the end, no place of refuge was left but the open fields, where thousands remained for several nights, without shelter, watching the progress of the flames, which were consuming the metropolis.
Note LI.
_O let it be enough what thou hast done, When spotted deaths ran armed through every street, With poisoned darts, which not the good could shun, The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet._ St. 267. p. 151.
In 1665, the plague broke out in London with the most dreadful fury. In one year, upwards of 90,000 inhabitants were cut off by this frightful visitation. The citizens were driven into the country, and so desolate was the metropolis, through death and desertion, that the grass is said actually to have grown in Cheapside.
Note LII.
_Thy threatnings, Lord, as thine, thou mayst revoke; But, if immutable and fixed they stand, Continue still thyself to give the stroke, And let not foreign foes oppress thy land._--St. 270. p. 151.
The poet puts into the prayer of Charles the solemn and striking choice of David, when, as a penalty for his presumption in numbering the children of Israel, he was compelled to make an election between three years famine, three years subjugation to his enemies, or three days pestilence. "And David said unto God, I am in a great strait: let me fall now into the hand of the Lord, for very great are his mercies; but let me not fall into the hand of man." Dryden had already, in Stanza 265, paraphrased the patriotic prayer of David: "Let thy hand, I pray thee, O Lord my God, be on me, and on my father's house, but not on thy people, that they should be plagued." Chron. Book I. ch. xxi.
Note LIII.
_Nor could thy fabric, Paul's, defend thee long, Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker's praise; Though made immortal by a poet's song, And poets songs the Theban walls could raise._ St. 275. p. 152.
Waller had addressed a poem to Charles I. upon his Majesty's repairing St Paul's. Denham, in the commencement of "Cowper's Hill," alludes both to the labours of the monarch, and of the poet:
Paul's, the late theme of such a muse, whose flight Has bravely reached and soared above thy height, Now shalt thou stand, though sword, or time, or fire, Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire; Secure whilst thee the best of poets sings, Preserved from ruin by the best of kings.
The fire of London, however, neither respected the labours of Charles, the song of Waller, nor the prophecy of Sir John Denham. During the conflagration, as St Paul's was in an insulated situation, and constructed of strong stone-work, it was long thought to be in no danger from the fire, and many of the sufferers employed it as a place of deposit for the wreck of their goods and fortunes. But the whole adjoining buildings in the churchyard being in a light flame, it became impossible, even for the massy fabric of the cathedral, to resist the combustion. The wood arches and supports being consumed, the stone-work gave way with a most horrible crash, and buried the whole edifice in a pile of smoking ruins.
Note LIV.
_He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, And eager flames drive on to storm the rest._ St. 280. p. 153.
The inscription on the monument states, that the fire consumed eighty-nine churches, the city-gates, Guildhall, many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, a vast number of stately edifices, thirteen thousand two hundred dwelling houses, four hundred streets. Three hundred and seventy-three acres within the city walls, and sixty-three acres and three roods without the walls, remained heaped with the smoking ruins of the houses, which had once occupied them.
Note LV.
_The vanquished fires withdraw from every place._--St. 282. p. 153.
About ten o'clock of the evening of Tuesday the 5th of September, after the fire had raged for three days, the high east wind, which had been the means of forcing on its ravages, began to abate, and, in proportion, the efforts used to stop the progress of the flames became effectual. In some places, houses being opportunely blown up prevented the further spreading of the fire; in others, the flames, spent for lack of fuel, seemed to go out of themselves. On the morning of the 6th, the conflagration was totally extinguished.
The prejudices of the times assigned different causes for this tragical event, according to the political principles of the discordant parties. Most agreed, that the fire was raised by design; for, although the multitude are content to allow, that a private person may die suddenly of a natural disorder, or that a cottage may be consumed by accidental fire; yet the death of a king, or the conflagration of a metropolis, must, according to their habits of thinking, arise from some dark and dismal plot, planned, doubtless, by those, whose religious or political sentiments are most remote from their own. The royalists accused the fanatics; the puritans the papists, of being the raisers of this dreadful fire. Some suspected even the king and duke of York; though it is somewhat difficult to see any advantage they could derive from burning a city, which had been just loading them both with treasures. The Monument, whose inscription adopts one of these rash opinions, is a more stately, but not a more respectable, record of prejudice, than the stone figure in Smithfield, whose tablet declares, the fire must have been specially and exclusively a judgment for the crime of GLUTTONY, since it began in _Pudding-Lane_, and ended in _Pye-Corner_!
An event so signally calamitous called forth, as may be readily supposed, the condolence and consolations, such as they were, of the poets of the day. One author, who designs himself J. A. Fellow of King's College, Cambridge, poured forth verses "Upon the late lamentable Fire in London, in an humble imitation of the most incomparable Mr Cowley his Pindaric strain." This usurper of the Theban lyre informs us, that
About those hours which silence keep. To tempt the froward world to ease; Just at the time when, clothed with subtile air. Guilty spirits use to appear; When the hard students to their pillows creep; (All but the aged men that wake, Who in the morn their slumbers take,) When fires themselves are put to sleep, (Only the thrifty lights that burn, and melancholy persons please;) Just then a message came, Brought by a murmuring wind; (Not to every obvious flame, Thousand of those it left behind.) And chose a treacherous heap of sparks, Which buried in their ashes lay; Which, when discovered by some secret marks, The air fan'd the pale dust away: What less than Heaven could ere this message send? The embers glowing, waked, and did attend.
In an unusual tone The embassy delivered was; The teeming air itself did groan, Nor for its burden could it farther pass. Their dialects, but to themselves unknown, Only by sad effects we see, They did agree, To execute the great decree; And all with the same secrecy conspire, That as heaven whispered to the air, the air should to the fire. The drowsy coals no sooner understand The purport of their large command, And that the officious wind did there attend Its needful aid to lend, But suddenly they seek out The work they were to go about; And sparks, that had before inactive lain, Each separate had its portion ta'en; Though scattered for a while, designed to meet again.
Thus far contrived the wary fire, Thinking how many 'twould undo; Fearing their just complaint, And the perpetual restraint; It winked, as one would think 'twould fain Have slept again; Had not the cruel wind rose higher, Which forced the drooping coals revive, To save themselves alive. Thus without fresh supply of food, Not able to subsist, Much less resist A breath by which they were so rudely kist, They seized a neighbouring stack of wood, Which straight into one horrid flame did turn, Not as it stood designed to burn. Thus, while each other they oppose. Poor mortals trace the mighty foes, By the vast desolations each makes where'er he goes.
Besides this choice imitation of Cowley, we have "_Londini quod reliquum_, or London's Remains," in Latin and English; "_Actio in Londini Incendiarios_, the Conflagration of London, poetically delineated;" _Londinenses Lacrymæ_, or "London's tears mingled with her ashes;" and, doubtless, many other poems on the same memorable event.
Note LVIII.
_Not with more constancy the Jews, of old, By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent Their royal city did in dust behold, Or with more vigour to rebuild it went._--St. 290. p. 155.
When Cyrus conquered Babylon, he restored the Jewish tribes to their native land, after seventy years captivity. The mixed feelings, with which they began to rebuild their ruined temple and city, are emphatically described in the book of Ezra, chap. iii.
"11. And they sung together by course, praising and giving thanks unto the Lord, because he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever towards Israel. And all the people shouted with a great shout when they praised the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid.
"12. But many of the priests and Levites, and chief of the fathers, who were ancient men, that had seen the first house, when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, wept with a loud voice, and many shouted loud for joy.
"13. So that the people could not discover the noise of the shout of joy from the noise of the weeping of the people; for the people shouted with a loud shout, and the noise was heard afar off."
Note LIX.
_Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-raised Jove, from his dark prison freed, Those weights took off that on his planet hung, Will gloriously the new-laid works succeed._ St. 292. p. 155.
According to the jargon of astrology, a _trine_, or triangular conjunction of planets, was supposed to be eminently benign to mankind. To this Dryden adds the circumstance of the planet Jove being in his ascension, as a favourable aspect. Our poet was not above being seriously influenced by these fooleries; and I dare say will be found, on reference to any almanack of 1666, to have given a very accurate account of the relative state of the heavenly bodies in that year.
Note LX.
_More great than human now, and more august, Now deified she from her fires does rise; Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And opening into larger parts she flies._--St. 295. p. 156.
It is here truly stated, that the calamity of the great fire was ultimately attended with excellent consequences to the city. By a proclamation from the king, of an arbitrary and dictatorial nature, but which the emergency seems to have justified, the citizens were prohibited from rebuilding their houses, except with solid materials, and upon such plans as should be set forth by a committee appointed for the purpose. In this manner, the endless disputes about property, whose boundaries were now undistinguishable, were at once silenced, and provision was made for the improvements in widening the streets, and prohibiting the use of lath and timber, of which materials the houses were formerly composed. "Had the king," says Hume, "been enabled to carry his power still farther, and made the houses be rebuilt with perfect regularity, and entirely upon one plan, he had contributed much to the convenience, as well as embellishment, of the city. Great advantages, however, have resulted from the alterations, though not carried to the full length. London became much more healthful after the fire. The plague, which used to break out with great fury twice or thrice every century, and indeed which was always lurking in some corner or other of the city, has scarcely ever appeared since that calamity."--Vol. VII. p. 4l6.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 203: "Memoirs of English affairs, chiefly naval, from 1660 to 1673, by his Royal Highness James Duke of York." Lond. 1729, 8vo.]
[Footnote 204: While these sheets were going to press, (to use the approved editorial phraseology,) I have discovered that these abstruse truths were asserted, not by Lilly himself, but a brother Philo-math, Richard Kirby, in his _Vates Astrologicus_, or England's Astrological Prophet.]
[Footnote 205: Sir Thomas Clifford was the person through whose medium Tydiman carried on a treaty with the Danish governor Alfeldt, for the surrender of the Dutch fleet; the sincerity of which, on the part of the Danes, may be greatly doubted, since their after conduct evinced an unrighteous desire of securing the whole booty of the unfortunate Dutchmen for themselves, which they must otherwise have divided with the English. See RALPH'S _Hist._ Vol. I. p. 118.]
[Footnote 206: The wits of that age, who laughed at every thing, made themselves very merry with this accident. Denham exhorts the painter thus:
But most with story of his hand and thumb, Conceal, as honour would, his grace's bum, When the rude bullet a large collop tore Out of that buttock never turned before; Fortune, it seems, would give him by that lash Gentle correction for his fight so rash; But should the Rump perceive't, they'd say that Mars Has thus avenged them upon Aumarle's ----.
The bard elsewhere gives his grace the admonition,
Guard thy posteriours, George, ere all be gone; Though jury-masts, thou'st jury-buttocks none.
_Instructions to a Painter, part 2d._ ]
[Footnote 207: This is taken from the narrative imputed to Harman himself.--See _Lives of the Admirals_, Vol. II. p. 262. Its authenticity is questioned by Ralph, on account of the _lubberly_ phrases, _cordage_ and _crossbeam_ for _slings_ and _yard_. But the same circumstances occur in a letter from Alborough, dated June 2d, and published in the London Gazette for June 4th, giving an account of the crippled state in which the Henry had come into that port, and of the part she had sustained in the action. A doggrel poet, on the same occasion, apostrophises
----Brave Harman now, his fiery ordeals past, Submits unto his watery trial last; Whose sober valour shall encrease his glory, And gain new plumes to enrich a future story. _On the Declaration of Toleration, and Publication of War._ ]
ABSALOM
AND
ACHITOPHEL.
PART I.
----_Si proprius stes Te capiet magis_----
ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.
The following poem has been uniformly and universally admired, not only as one of Dryden's most excellent performances, but as indisputably the best and most nervous political satire that ever was written. It is said to have been undertaken at the command of Charles; and if so, no king was ever better obeyed. The general state of parties in England during the last years of the reign of Charles II. has been often noticed, particularly in the notes on "The Duke of Guise," Vol. VI. Shaftesbury, dismissed from the administration, had bent his whole genius for intrigue, to effect the exclusion of the Duke of York from the crown of England, even at the risque of a civil war. Monmouth had thrown himself into the arms of the same party, flattered by the prospect of occupying that place from which his uncle was to be excluded. Every thing seemed to flatter his ambition. The pretensions of the Duke's daughters must necessarily have been compromised by the exclusion of their father. At any rate, they were not likely to be supported by a powerful party, while Monmouth, by his own personal influence, and that of Shaftesbury, was at the head of all, whom zeal for religion, disappointed ambition, restlessness of temper, love of liberty, or desire of licentiousness, had united in opposition to the measures of the court. Every engine which judgement or wit could dictate, was employed by either party to place their cause in the most favourable light, and prejudice that of their adversaries. Among these, the poem which follows was the most powerful, and the most successful. The time of its appearance was chosen with as much art, as the poem displays genius. Shaftesbury had been committed to the Tower on a charge of high treason on the 2d July, and the poem was published a few days before a bill of indictment was presented against him. The sensation excited by such a poem, at such a time, was intense and universal.
It has been hitherto generally supposed, that the idea of applying to Charles and Monmouth the apt characters and story of Absalom and Achitophel, and indeed the general plan of drawing a poetical parallel from scriptural history to modern times, was exclusively our author's. This appears to be a mistake. So far back as 1679, some favourer of Lord Stafford and of the Catholic cause ventured to paraphrase the story of Naboth's vineyard, and to apply it to the condemnation of that unfortunate nobleman for the Catholic plot. In that piece, the scripture names and characters are given to the objects of the poet's satire, precisely on the plan adopted by Dryden in "Absalom and Achitophel,"[208] as the reader will perceive from the extracts in the note. Not only had the scheme of a similar poem been conceived, but the very passage of Scripture, adopted by Dryden as the foundation of his parable, had been already applied to Charles and his undutiful son. There appeared, in 1680, a small tract, called "Absalom's Conspiracy, or the Tragedy of Treason," which, as it seems to have furnished the general argument of Dryden's poem, and has been unnoticed by any former commentator, I have subjoined to these introductory remarks. (See p. 205.)
In a "Letter also to his grace the duke of Monmouth, this 15 July 1680, by a true lover of his person and the peace of the kingdom," the same adaptation is thus warmly urged.
"These are the men (speaking of Monmouth's advisers) that would, with Joab, send for the wise woman to persuade king David to admit of a return for Absalom his son; and when they had effected it, leave him to himself, till anger and passion had set fire to the field of Joab. These are the men, that would have advised Absalom to make chariots, and to take fifty men to run before him, and appoint his time and station beside the way of the gate, to enquire of the tribes of Israel, that came up to the king for justice, what their controversies and matters were. These are the men, that would have advised young Absalom, that since David had appointed no one to hear their grieveances (which was a political lye), and relieve their oppressions, to wish, "Oh that I were made judge in the land, that every man that hath any suit or cause might come to me, and I would do him justice!" In short, these unprincipled men were they that set on Absalom to steal away the hearts of the people from the king; these are they, that advised him to go to Hebron to pay his vow; and these are the men, that led him into actual rebellion against his father, and to be destroyed by some of the very hands that had assisted him in those pernicious counsels." _Somers' Tracts_, p. 111.
The parallel, from its aptness to the circumstances, appears to have become popular; for Shaftesbury was distinguished by the nickname of Achitophel[209] before the appearance of the following poem.
On the merits of Dryden's satire, all critics have been long agreed. "If it be considered," says Dr Johnson, "as a poem political and controversial, it will be found to comprise all the excellencies of which the subject is susceptible; acrimony of censure, elegance of praise, artful delineation of character, variety and vigour of sentiment, happy turns of language, and pleasing harmony of numbers; and all these raised to such a height as can scarcely be found in any other English composition." The more deeply we examine the plan of the piece, the more reason we will find to applaud the exquisite skill of the author. In the character of Absalom, particularly, he had a delicate task to perform. He was to draw the misguided and offending son, but not the hardened reprobate; for Charles, notwithstanding his just indignation, was to the end of his reign partial to this unfortunate prince, and anxious to detach him from his desperate counsellors. Dryden has, accordingly, liberally transferred all the fouler part of the accusation to the shoulders of Achitophel, while he is tender of the fame of Absalom. We may suppose, that, in doing so, the poet indulged his own feelings: the Duchess of Buccleuch had been his most early patroness, and he had received personal favours from Monmouth himself,[210] These recollections must have had weight with him, when engaged in composing this party poem; and we may readily believe him, when he affirms, that David could not be more tender of the young man's life, than he would be of his reputation. In many of the other characters, that of Buckingham in particular, a certain degree of mercy is preserved, even amid the severity of satire. The follies of Zimri are exposed to ridicule; but his guilt, (and the age accused him of most foul crimes,) is left in the shade. Even in drawing the character of Achitophel, such a degree of justice is rendered to his acute talents, and to his merits as a judge, that we are gained by the poet's apparent candour to give him credit for the truth of the portrait in its harsher features. It is remarkable, that the only considerable additions made to the poem, after the first edition, have a tendency rather to mollify than to sharpen the satire. The following additional passage, in the character of Achitophel, stands in this predicament:
So easy still it proves in factious times, With public zeal to cancel private crimes. How safe is treason, and how sacred ill, Where none can sin against the people's will? Where crowds can wink, and no offence be known, Since in another's guilt they find their own? Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean, Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress; Swift of dispatch, and easy of access.
A report was circulated, and has crept into the "_Biographia Britannica_," that this addition was made in consequence of Shaftesbury's having conferred a favour upon Dryden, and his family,[211] in the interval between the first and second edition of "Absalom and Achitophel;" but this Mr Malone has refuted in the most satisfactory manner.
A passage, expressive of kind wishes towards Monmouth, was also added in the second addition:
But oh that yet he would repent and live! How easy 'tis for parents to forgive; With how few tears a pardon might be won, From nature pleading for a darling son!
These, and other passages, in which Dryden has softened the severity of his muse, evince not only the poet's taste and judgment, but that tone of honourable and just feeling, which distinguishes a true satire from a libellous lampoon.
It was not consistent with Dryden's subject to introduce much imagery or description into "Absalom and Achitophel;" but, though Dr Johnson has remarked this as a disadvantage to the poem, it was, I think, amply compensated by the good effects which the restraint produced on our author's style of composition. The reader has already seen in how many instances Dryden gave way to the false taste of his age, which, indeed, furnished the strongest temptation to a vigorous mind, naturally delighting to exert itself in working out an ingenious parallel between remote and dissimilar ideas. A fiery horse is taught his regular paces by the restraining discipline of the manege; and, in the same way, the subject of "Absalom and Achitophel," which confined the poet to the expression of sentiment and character, and left no room for excursions into the regions of metaphysical poetry, probably had the effect of restraining his exertions within the bounds of true taste, whose precincts he would be less likely to overleap, even when again turned loose upon a more fanciful theme. It is certain that "Absalom and Achitophel" is as remarkable for correctness of taste, as for fire and spirit of composition; nor ought the reader, amidst so many appropriate beauties, to regret those flights of imagination, which could not have been indulged without impropriety.
Another objection, stated to this poem, has been the abrupt and unsatisfactory nature of the conclusion. The factions, and their leaders, are described; and, when our expectation is at the highest, the danger is at once dispelled by a speech from the throne. "Who," says Johnson, "can forbear to think of an enchanted castle, with a wide moat, and lofty battlements, which vanishes at once into air, when the destined knight blows his horn before it." Yet, with great deference to such authority, it may be considered as somewhat hard to expect the merit of a well-conducted story in a poem merely intended as a designation of various living characters. He, who collects a gallery of portraits, disclaims, by the very act of doing so, any intention of presenting a series of historical events. Each separate style of poetry has its merits and disadvantages, but we should not expect a historical work to contain the poignancy of a satire, or a satire to exhibit the majestic and interesting story of an epic poem. Besides, there had actually been an important crisis, and highly favourable to the court, produced by the king's behaviour at Oxford, and by the sudden dissolution of that parliament, which, according to Shaftesbury, was to have rendered the Duke of York as abandoned an exile as the first murderer Cain. This stroke of power was executed so unexpectedly, that the Commons had not the slightest suspicion of what was intended, till they were summoned by the Black Rod to attend the king. Oxford, so lately crowded with the armed factionaries and partizans of royalty and democracy, was at once deserted, and left to its usual stillness and seclusion. The blow was fatal to the country party, as it dispersed that body in which they had knit up their strength, and which alone could give their proceedings the sanction of law.
The success of "Absalom and Achitophel" was unexampled. Dr Johnson's father, a bookseller, told him, it was exceeded by nothing in his remembrance, excepting that of Sacheverel's Sermon. The allusions which it contained became universally known; and the allegorical names seemed to be inalienably entailed upon the persons to whom Dryden had assigned them. Not only were they in perpetual use amongst the court poets of the day,[212] but the parable was repeatedly inculcated and preached upon from the pulpit,[213] and echoed and re-echoed in all the addresses of the time.[214]
The poem was at first published without a name, a circumstance which must have added to the curiosity of the public; there were, however, few writers, save the author, who could be suspected even for a moment, and it is probable he did not remain long concealed. The poem was published on the 17th November, 1681,[215] and, as early as the 10th of December, Dryden is attacked as the author, in a miserable Grubstreet poem, called "Towser the Second," supposed to be written by Henry Care.[216] Then came forth, on the 14th, His Grace of Buckingham's "Poetical Reflections," which are amply analysed in our notes. A non-conformist clergyman (name unknown) advanced to the charge on the 25th, with a pamphlet termed, "A Whip for the Fool's Back;" and followed it up with the "Key with the Whip, to open the mystery and iniquity of the poem called Absalom and Achitophel." Then Samuel Pordage published "Azariah and Hushai;" and, finally, our author's old antagonist, Elkanah Settle, brought up the heavy rear with a ponderous pamphlet entitled, "Absalom Senior; or, Achitophel Transposed, a Poem." All these laborious and indignant vindications and rebutters served only to shew how much the faction was hurt by this spirited satire, and how unable they were to make an effectual retort. Were we to judge of their strength in other respects, from the efforts of their writers, we should esteem them very unworthy of Dryden's satire, and exclaim, as Tybalt does to Benvolio,
What dost thou, drawn, among these heartless hinds?
Accordingly, Dryden takes but slight and contemptuous notice of any of his antagonists, save Shadwell and Settle, on whom he inflicts a severe flagellation in the Second Part. On the other hand, Nahum Tate, and other tory poets, came forth with congratulatory verses, the inferiority of which served to shew that Dryden's force did not lie in the principles and subject which he had in common with these poetasters, but in the incommunicable resources of his own genius.
The first part of "Absalom and Achitophel" is in folio, "Printed for J. T. (Jacob Tonson) and are to be sold by W. Davis, in Amen corner, 1681." A second edition was issued before the end of December, which was followed by many more. Mr Malone believes that the edition which appeared in the Miscellanies was the sixth; and a quarto copy, now before me, dated 1692, calls itself "the Seventh Edition, augmented and revised." Two Latin versions of "Absalom and Achitophel" were executed; one by the famous Atterbury, afterwards bishop of Rochester, the other by Dr Coward.
* * * * *
"Absalom's Conspiracy: or, the Tragedy of Treason." London, printed in the year 1680. Folio, containing two pages. Reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany.
"There is nothing so dangerous either to societies in general, or to particular persons, as ambition; the temptations of sovereignty, and the glittering lustre of a crown, have been guilty of all the fearful consequences that can be within the compass of imagination. For this, mighty nations have been drowned in blood, populous cities have been made, desolate, laid in ashes, and left without inhabitants; for this, parents have lost all the sense and tenderness of nature; and children, all the sentiments of duty and obedience; the eternal laws of good and just, the laws of nature and of nations, of God and religion, have been violated; men have been transformed into the cruelty of beasts, and into the rage and malice of devils.
"Instances, both modern and ancient, of this, are innumerable; but this of Absalom is a tragedy, whose antiquity and truth do equally recommend it as an example to all posterity, and a caution to all mankind, to take care how they embark in ambitious and unlawful designs; and it is a particular caveat to all young men, to beware of such counsellors as the old Achitophel, lest, while they are tempted with the hopes of a crown, they hasten on their own destiny, and come to an untimely end.
"Absalom was the third son of David by Maachah, the daughter of Talmai, king of Geshur, who was one of David's concubines; he, seeing his title to the crown upon the score of lawful succession would not do, resolved to make good what was defective in it by open force, by dethroning his father.
"Now the arts he used to accomplish his design were these. First, he studied popularity; he rose up early, he was industrious and diligent in his way; he placed himself in the way of the gate; and when any man came for judgment, he courteously entered into discourse with him. This feigned condescension was the first step of his ambition. Secondly, he depraved his father's government: the king was careless, drowned in his pleasures; the counsellors were evil; no man regarded the petitioners: Absalom said unto him,--See, thy matters are good and right, it is but reason that you petition for; but there is no man that will hear thee from the king; there is no justice to be found, your petitions are rejected. Thirdly, he insinuates what he would do if he were in authority; how easy access should be to him; he would do them justice; he would hear and redress their grievances, receive their petitions, and give them gracious answers:--Oh that I were made judge in the land, that every man might come unto me, and I would do him justice! And, when any man came to do him obeysance, he put forth his hand, and took him and kissed him; and thus he stole away the hearts of the people from their lawful king, his father and sovereign.
"But all this would not do; he therefore joins himself to one Achitophel, an old man of a shrewd head, and discontented heart. This Achitophel, it seems, had been a great counsellor of David's; but was now under some disgrace, as appears by Absalom's sending for him from Gilo, his city, whither he was in discontent retreated, because David had advanced Hushai into his privy-council; and no doubt can be made, but he was of the conspiracy before, by his ready joining with Absalom as soon as the matters were ripe for execution.
"Absalom having thus laid his train, and made secret provision for his intended rebellion, dispatches his emissaries abroad, to give notice by his spies, that all the confederates should be ready at the sound of the trumpet, and say, Absalom reigneth in Hebron; and immediately a great multitude was gathered to him; for the conspiracy was strong; some went out of malice, and some in their simplicity followed him, and knew not any thing.
"David is forced to fly from his son, but still he had a loyal party that stuck close to him. Achitophel gave devilish counsel, but God disappointed it strangely; for Hushai, pretending to come over to their party, put Absalom upon a plausible expedient, which proved his ruin. So impossible is it for treason to be secure, that no person who forms a conspiracy, but there may be some, who, under pretence of the greatest kindness, may insinuate themselves, only to discover their secrets, and ruin their intentions, either by revealing their treason, or disappointing it; and certainly, of all men, traitors are least to be trusted; for they who can be perfidious to one, can never be true to any.
"The matter comes at last to the decision of the sword. Absalom's party are defeated, and many slain, and Absalom himself, seeking to save himself by flight in the wood, is entangled in a tree by his own hair, which was his pride; and his mule going from under him, there left him hanging till Joab came, and, with three darts, made at once an end of his life and the rebellion. Thus ended his youthful and foolish ambition, making him an eternal monument of infamy, and an instance of the justice of divine vengeance, and what will be the conclusion of ambition, treason, and conspiracy, against lawful kings and governors: A severe admonition to all green heads, to avoid the temptations of grey Achitophels.
"Achitophel, the engineer of all this mischief, seeing his counsel despised, and foreseeing the event, prevented the hand of the executioner, and, in revenge upon himself, went home and hanged himself; give fair warning to all treacherous counsellors, to see what their devilish counsels will lead them to at last; mischievous counsel ever falling in conclusion upon the heads where first it was contrived, as naturally as dirty kennels fall into the common-sewer.
"Whatsoever was written aforetime, was written for our instruction: for holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 208: "Naboth's Vineyard, or the Innocent Traitor, copied from the original Holy Scriptures, in Heroic Verse, printed for C. R. 1679."
"Since holy scripture itself is not exempt from being tortured and abused by the strainings and perversions of evil men, no great wonder were it if this small poem, which is but an illustration of a single, yet remarkable, passage thereof, be also subject to the like distortions and misapplications of the over-prying and underwitted of one side, and of the malicious on the other: But all ingenious and ingenuous men (to whose divertisement only this poem offers itself) will be guarantees for the author, that neither any honourable and just judge can be thought concerned in the character of Arod, nor any honest and veracious witness in that of Malchus: And as, by the singular care and royal goodness of his Majesty, whom God long preserve, our benches in this nation are furnished with persons of such eminent integrity and ability, that no character of a corrupt judge can, with the least shadow of resemblance, belong to them; so it is to be wished, that also, in all our courts of judicature, a proportionable honesty and veracity were to be found in all witnesses, that so justice and peace might close in a happy kiss."
In this piece, Scroggs is described under the character of Arod, an ambitious judge and statesman:
The chief was Arod, whose corrupted youth Had made his soul an enemy to truth; But nature furnished him with parts and wit For bold attempts, and deep intriguing fit. Small was his learning, and his eloquence Did please the rabble, nauseate men of sense; Bold was his spirit, nimble and loud his tongue, Which more than law or reason takes the throng, Him, part by money, partly by her grace, The covetous queen raised to a judge's place; And as he bought his place, he justice sold, Weighing his causes, not by law, but gold. He made the justice-seat a common mart; Well skilled was he in the mysterious art Of finding varnish for an unsound cause, And for the sound, imaginary flaws.
MALCHUS--OATES.
Malchus, a puny Levite, void of sense And grace, but stuff'd with noise and impudence, Was his prime tool; so venomous a brute, That every place he lived in spued him out. Lies in his mouth, and malice in his heart, By nature grew, and were improved by art; Mischief his pleasure was, and all his joy, To see his thriving calumny destroy Those, whom his double heart, and forked tongue, Surer than vipers' teeth, to death had stung.
NABOTH--STAFFORD.
Naboth, among the tribes, the foremost place, Did, with his riches, birth, and virtue grace, A man, whose wealth was the poor's common stock; The hungry found their market in his flock. His justice made all law contentions cease; He was his neighbours' safeguard, and their peace: The rich by him were in due bounds contained; The poor, if strong, employed; if weak, maintained. Well had he served his country and his king, And the best troops in all their wars did bring; Nor with less bravery did he lead them on, Warding his country's danger with his own. ]
[Footnote 209: The following lines occur in "The Badger in the Fox-trap," published, as appears from Mr Luttrell's jotting, about 9th July, 1681, four months before the appearance of Dryden's poem:
Besides, my titles are as numerous As all my actions various, still, and humourous. Some call me Tory, some _Achitophel_, Some Jack-a-Dandy, some old Machiavel; Some call me Devil, some his foster-brother, And Turncoat rebel all the nation over.
An accidental anticipation of the names imposed on Shaftesbury and the King occurs, where the author seems to have been inspired with prophecy at least, if not with poetry; namely, in "Verses on the blessed and happy Coronation of Charles II. King of England, &c. printed at the hearty desires of Persons of Quality; by John Rich, Gentleman:"
Preserve thy David; and he that rebells, Confound his councells, like Achitophell's. ]
[Footnote 210: See the Dedication of "Tyrannic Love," addressed to Monmouth, Vol. III. p. 346; and the "Vindication of the Duke of Guise," where Dryden says, "The obligations I have had to him were those of his countenance, his favour, his good word, and his esteem, all of which I have likewise had in a greater measure from his excellent Duchess, the patroness of my poor unworthy poetry." Vol. VII. p. 162.]
[Footnote 211: By recommending, it is said, his son to the charter-home, of which Shaftesbury is said to have been a governor. But, from the records of the foundation, it appears that Erasmus Henry Dryden, the third son of the poet, to whom, if to any, the story must apply, was not admitted a scholar till more than a year after the publication of the second edition of the poem, containing the additional lines above quoted, to which the said admission is stated to have given occasion. There are, besides, two admirable reasons for believing that Shaftesbury had no hand in this matter, since, first, young Dryden was admitted on the recommendation of the king himself; secondly, Shaftesbury happened to be dead at the time. See _Malone's Dryden_, Vol. I. p. 148. The following is the note of admissions referred to by Mr. Malone:
"October 6th, 1681, [six weeks before the publication of 'Absalom and Achitophel'] Samuel Weaver, admitted for the Lord Shaftesbury.
"Feb. 5th, 1682-3, Erasmus-Henry Dryden, admitted _for his majesty_ (in the room of Orlando Bagnall); aged 14 years, 2d of May next.
"Nov. 2d, 1685, Erasmus Dryden and Richard Tubb left the house.
"Elected to the University."]
[Footnote 212: Of this it would be endless to quote proofs: The following four extracts from the libels of the time are more than sufficient.
"A Congratulatory Poem upon the Happy Arrival of his Royal Highness James Duke of York, at London, April 8th, 1682:"
And Absalom, thou piece of ill-placed beauty, As happy be as fair, and know thy duty; For somewhat in that noble frame I saw, Which, or a father, or a king can awe.
"The Norwich Loyal Litany:"
But may the beauteous youth come home, And do the thing that's fit, Or I must tell that Absalom, He has more hair than wit.
May he be wise, and soon expell The old fox, th' old fawning elf; The time draws near, Achitophel Shan't need to hang himself.
"His Royal Highness the Duke of York's Welcome to London, a congratulatory Poem:"
So let it mourn, and Ignoramus find How unsuccessfully it spared its kind, When sneaking, trembling, false Achitophel Hath refuge to the cunning Hangman's spell; And by one fatal tie, those numerous knots Dissolves, of all his rogueries, shams, and plots.
"Good News in Bad Times; or Absalom's Return to David's Bosom. 30th Nov. 1683."]
[Footnote 213: Mr Malone quotes two instances of sermons upon this topic; one entitled, "Achitophel's Policy Defeated;" preached on the thanksgiving after the Rye-house conspiracy, and another on the same subject, with nearly the same title, Vol. III. p. 293.]
[Footnote 214: An address from Liverpool assures Charles, that "the councils of your faithful Hushais shall ever prevail against the united force of all-aspiring Absaloms, and the desperate advice of all pestilent Achitophels." Another, from Morpeth, denounces "all mutinous Corahs, rebellious Absaloms, and perfidious Achitophels."]
[Footnote 215: This appears by a note upon Mr Luttrell's copy, "17th November, _ex dono amici Jacobi Tonson_." He has further labelled it "An excellent Poem against the Duke of Monmouth, Earl of Shaftesbury, and that party, and in vindication of the king and his friends."]
[Footnote 216: "Towser the second, a bull-dog, or a short reply to Absalom and Achitophel;"
In pious times, when poets were well banged For sawcy satire, and for sham plots hanged, A learned bard, that long commanded had The trembling stage in chief, at length ran mad.
* * * * *
For, since he has given o'er to plague the stage With the effects of his poetic rage, Like a mad dog he runs about the streets, Snarling and biting every one he meets: The other day he met our royal Charles, And his two mistresses, and at them snarls; Then falls upon the numbers of state, Treats them all _a-la-mode de Billinsgate_. ]
TO THE READER.
It is not my intention to make an apology for my poem; some will think it needs no excuse, and others will receive none. The design I am sure is honest; but he who draws his pen for one party, must expect to make enemies of the other. For wit and fool, are consequents of Whig and Tory;[217] and every man is a knave or an ass to the contrary side. There is a treasury of merits in the fanatic church, as well as in the popish; and a pennyworth to be had of saintship, honesty, and poetry, for the lewd, the factious, and the blockheads; but the longest chapter in Deuteronomy has not curses enough for an Anti-Bromingham.[218] My comfort is, their manifest prejudice to my cause will render their judgment of less authority against me. Yet, if a poem have genius, it will force its own reception in the world; for there is a sweetness in good verse, which tickles even while it hurts; and no man can be heartily angry with him who pleases him against his will. The commendation of adversaries is the greatest triumph of a writer, because it never comes unless extorted. But I can be satisfied on more easy terms; if I happen to please the more moderate sort, I shall be sure of an honest party, and, in all probability, of the best judges; for the least concerned are commonly the least corrupt. And I confess I have laid in for those, by rebating the satire, where justice would allow it, from carrying too sharp an edge. They who can criticise so weakly, as to imagine I have done my worst, may be convinced, at their own cost, that I can write severely, with more ease than I can gently. I have but laughed at some men's follies, when I could have declaimed against their vices; and other men's virtues I have commended, as freely as I have taxed their crimes. And now, if you are a malicious reader, I expect you should return upon me, that I affect to be thought more impartial than I am; but if men are not to be judged by their professions, God forgive you commonwealth's-men for professing so plausibly for the government! You cannot be so unconscionable as to charge me for not subscribing my name; for that would reflect too grossly upon your own party, who never dare, though they have the advantage of a jury to secure them. If you like not my poem, the fault may possibly be in my writing; though it is hard for an author to judge against himself: but more probably it is in your morals, which cannot bear the truth of it. The violent on both sides will condemn the character of Absalom, as either too favourably or too hardly drawn. But they are not the violent whom I desire to please. The fault on the right hand is to extenuate, palliate, and indulge; and, to confess freely, I have endeavoured to commit it. Besides the respect which I owe his birth, I have a greater for his heroic virtues; and David himself could not be more tender of the young man's life, than I would be of his reputation. But since the most excellent natures are always the most easy, and, as being such, are the soonest perverted by ill counsels, especially when baited with fame and glory, it is no more a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it was for Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to prosecute, because I could not obtain from myself to shew Absalom unfortunate. The frame of it was cut out but for a picture to the waist; and if the draught be so far true, it is as much as I designed.
Were I the inventor, who am only the historian, I should certainly conclude the piece, with the reconcilement of Absalom to David. And who knows but this may come to pass? Things were not brought to an extremity where I left the story; there seems yet to be room left for a composure; hereafter there may be only for pity. I have not so much as an uncharitable wish against Achitophel, but am content to be accused of a good-natured error, and to hope with Origen, that the devil himself may at last be saved. For which reason, in this poem, he is neither brought to set his house in order, nor to dispose of his person afterwards as he in wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful; and his vicegerent is only not so, because he is not infinite.
The true end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction. And he, who writes honestly, is no more an enemy to the offender, than the physician to the patient, when he prescribes harsh remedies to an inveterate disease; for those are only in order to prevent the chirurgeon's work of an _Ense rescindendum_, which I wish not to my very enemies. To conclude all; if the body politic have any analogy to the natural, in my weak judgment, an act of oblivion were as necessary in a hot distempered state, as an opiate would be in a raging fever.
RECOMMENDATORY VERSES.
The following Recommendatory Verses, Dryden thought worthy of being prefixed to the later editions of his "Absalom and Achitophel," for which reason they are here retained. It will be observed, that they all mention the author as unknown. This, however, we are not to understand literally; since it is obvious, from the contemporary libels, that Dryden was well known for the author. But, till he placed his name in the title page, his friends were not to affect to know more than that told them; as it is impolite to recognize a person who affects a disguise.
TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THIS EXCELLENT POEM.
Take it as earnest of a faith renewed, Your theme is vast, your verse divinely good: Where, though the Nine their beauteous stroaks repeat, } And the turned lines on golden anvils beat, } It looks as if they strook them at a heat. } So all serenely great, so just refined, } Like angels love to humane seed enclined, } It starts a giant, and exalts the kind. } 'Tis spirit seen, whose fiery atoms roul, So brightly fierce, each syllable's a soul. 'Tis miniature of man, but he's all heart; 'Tis what the world would be, but wants the art; To whom even the Phanatics altars raise, Bow in their own despite, and grin your praise. As if a Milton from the dead arose, Filed off the rust, and the right party chose. Nor, Sir, be shocked at what the gloomy say, Turn not your feet too inward, nor too splay. 'Tis gracious all, and great; push on your theme, Lean your grieved head on David's diadem. David, that rebel Israel's envy moved, David, by God and all good men beloved. The beauties of your Absalom excell; But more the charms of charming Annabel; Of Annabel, than May's first morn more bright, Chearfull as summer's noon, and chast as winter's night. Of Annabel the muses dearest theme, Of Annabel the angel of my dream. Thus let a broken eloquence attend, And to your master-piece these shadows send.
TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THIS ADMIRABLE POEM.
I thought,--forgive my sin,--the boasted fire Of poets' souls did long ago expire; Of folly or of madness did accuse The wretch that thought himself possest with muse; Laughed at the God within, that did inspire With more than human thoughts the tuneful quire; But sure 'tis more than fancy, or the dream Of rhimers slumbring by the muses stream. Some livelier spark of heaven, and more refined From earthly dross, fills the great poet's mind. Witness these mighty and immortal lines, Through each of which th' informing genius shines. Scarce a diviner flame inspired the king, Of whom thy muse does so sublimely sing. Not David's self could in a nobler verse His gloriously offending son rehearse, Though in his breast the prophet's fury met The father's fondness, and the poet's wit. Here all consent in wonder and in praise, And to the unknown poet altars raise. Which thou must needs accept with equal joy, As when Ænæas heard the wars of Troy, Wrapt up himself in darkness and unseen, Extolled with wonder by the Tyrian Queen. Sure thou already art secure of fame, Nor want'st new glories to exalt thy name; What father else would have refused to own So great a son as god-like Absalon? R. D.
TO THE CONCEALED AUTHOR OF THIS INCOMPARABLE POEM.
Hail heaven-born muse! hail every sacred page! The glory of our isle and of our age. The inspiring sun to Albion draws more nigh, } The north at length teems with a work to vie } With Homer's flame and Virgil's majesty. } While Pindus lofty heights our poet sought, } (His ravisht mind with vast ideas fraught,) } Our language failed beneath his rising thought; } This checks not his attempt, for Maro's mines, } He drains of all their gold t'adorn his lines; } Through each of which the Mantuan Genius shines. } The rock obeyed the powerful Hebrew guide, Her flinty breast, dissolved into a tide; Thus on our stubborn language he prevails, And makes the Helicon in which he sails. The dialect, as well as sense, invents, And, with his poem, a new speech presents. Hail then thou matchless bard, thou great unknown, That give your country fame, yet shun your own! In vain--for every where your praise you find, And not to meet it, you must shun mankind. Your loyal theme each loyal reader draws, } And even the factious give your verse applause, } Whose lightning strikes to ground their idol cause. } The cause for whose dear sake they drank a flood Of civil gore, nor spared the royal-blood; The cause whose growth to crush, our prelates wrote In vain, almost in vain our Heroes fought. Yet by one stab of your keen satyr dies; Before your sacred lines their shattered Dagon lies. Oh! If unworthy we appear to know The sire, to whom this lovely birth we owe; Denyed our ready homage to express, And can at best but thankfull be by guess; This hope remains,--May David's god-like mind, (For him 'twas wrote) the unknown author find; And, having found, shower equal favours down, On wit so vast as could oblige a crown. N. T.
Some scribbler of the day also, thinking Dryden's meaning not sufficiently clear, wrote "Absalon's ix worthies, or a key to a late book, or poem, entitled AB, and AC," marked by Mr Luttrell, as bought, 10 March 1682-3. It concludes with the following address.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THAT INCOMPARABLE POEM ABOVE MENTIONED.
Homer, amazed, resigns the hill to you, And stands i'the crowd, amidst the panting crew; Virgil and Horace dare not shew their face, And long admired Juv'nal quits his place; For this one mighty poem hath done more Than all those poets could have done before. Satyr, or statesman, poet, or divine, Thou any thing, thou every thing thats fine, Thy lines will make young Absalon relent; And, though 'tis hard, Achitophel repent; And stop--as thou has done---- Thus once thy rival muse, on Cooper's hill, With the true story would not Fatme[220] kill. No politics exclude repentance quite; Despair makes rebels obstinately fight; 'Tis well when errors do for mercy call; Unbloody conquests are the best of all. Methinks I see a numerous mixed croud Of seduced patriots crying out aloud For grace, to royal David. He, with tears, Holds forth his sceptre, to prevent their fears, And bids them welcome to his tender breast: Thus may the people, thus the king be blest. Then tunes his harp, thy praises to rehearse, Who owes his son and subjects to thy verse.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 217: These famous expressions of party distinction were just coming into fashion. Whig, a contraction of Whigamore, is a word used by the peasantry in the west of Scotland in driving their horses, and gave a name to those fanatics who were the supporters of the Covenant in that part of Scotland. It was first used to designate an insurrection of these people in 1648, called the Whigamore's road. It has been less accurately derived from the sour-milk used by these people, called whig. But the former use of the word was much more likely to afford a party appellation.--The Tories owe their distinctive epithet to the Irish banditti, who used the word Toree, or "give me," in robbing passengers. Hence, in the old translation of Buchanan's History, the followers of Buccleuch are called the Tories of Teviotdale. As, from religion and other motives, the Irish were almost all attached to the Duke of York, the word Tory was generally applied to his party by the opposite faction, who, on the other hand, were called Whigs, as having embraced the fanatical and rebellious principles of the Scottish covenanters. The Duke of York's followers are supposed to be thus described by his Grace himself, in a lampoon called "Popish Politics unmasked:"
I have my teagues and _tories_ at my beck, Will wring their heads off like a chicken's neck.
* * * * *
Others wo'nt serve you but on constant pay, My hounds will hunt and live upon their prey; A virgin's haunch, or well-baked ladies breast, To them is better than a ven'son feast; Babes pettitoes cut large, with arms and legs, They far prefer to pettitoes of pigs.
One of the first applications of the word Tory to a party purpose, occurs in "a True Relation of a late Barbarous Assault committed on Robert Pye, Esq." in which one John Bodnam, of Brunguin, in the county of Hereford, "an obstinate and violent papist," is said by the author to have defended himself against the constable and his assistants "so well, or rather so ill," that they were forced to retire and leave him "than which a _Toree_ or an Outlaw could have done no more." Finally, the justice having appeared in person, Mr Bodnam, "in good earnest let fly at his head with a hedge-bill," which, the author says, is "no bad argument for the truth of the black bills prepared for the papists in Ireland." This paper is dated 1681.]
[Footnote 218: Birmingham was already noted for base and counterfeit coinage. In a Panegyrick on their Royal Highnesses congratulating their return from Scotland, 1682, mention is thus made of Shaftesbury's medal:
The wretch that stamped it got immortal fame; 'Twas coined by stealth, like groats at Birmingham.
Tom Brown also alluded to the same practice; "I coined heroes as fast as Brumingham groats."[219] The affected zeal of the country party for the Protestant religion, led them to be called Birmingham Protestants, while the pretensions of Monmouth to legitimacy led his adversaries to compare him to a spurious impression of the king's coin; and thus _Birmingham_ became a term of reproach for him, his assumed title, and his faction in general. There are numerous allusions to this in the libels of the age. Thus, in "Old Jemmy, an excellent new Ballad,"
Old Jemmy is the top, And cheef among the princes; No mobile gay fop With Bromingham pretences.
In another ballad bearing the same title, the same phrase occurs:
Let Whig and Bremingham repine, They shew their teeth in vain; The glory of the British line, Old Jemmy's come again.
These are in Mr Luttrell's collection; where there is another Tory song, entitled, "A proper new Birmingham ballad, to the tune of Hey Boys Up Go We."
In another Grubstreet performance, entitled, "a Medley on the plot, by Mathew Taubman:"
Confound the hypocrites, Birminghams royal, Who thinks allegeance a transgression; Since to oppose the king is counted loyal, And to rail high at the succession.
* * * * *
Let them boast of loyal Birminghams, and true, And with these make up their kirk of separation; We have honest Tory Tom, Dick, and Hugh, Will drink on, and do more service for the nation.
North, however, gives rather a different derivation. He says, that the loyalists, becoming anxious to retort some nickname in return for that of tories with which they had been branded, first called their "adversaries _true blues_; because such were not satisfied to be Protestants as the churchmen were, but must be true Protestants, implying the others to be false ones, just not Papists. Then they went on, and stiled the adversary _Birmingham_ Protestants, alluding to the false groats struck at that place. This held a considerable time; but the word was not fluent enough for hasty repartee, and after divers changes, the lot fell on the word whig, which was very significative, as well as ready, being vernacular in Scotland, whence it was borrowed, for sour and corrupted whey. Immediately the train took, and, upon the first touch of the experiment, it ran like wild fire, and became general." _Examen. p. 321_.
By the phrase of Anti-Brominghams, used in the text, Dryden therefore means those who opposed the duke of Monmouth's pretensions, and were execrated for doing so by his fanatical followers.]
[Footnote 219: _Reasons for Mr Bayes' changing his Religion_, p. 14.]
[Footnote 220: A character in sir John Denham's Sophy.]
ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.
In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man on many multiplied his kind, Ere one to one was cursedly confined; When nature prompted, and no law denied, Promiscuous use of concubine and bride; Then Israel's monarch[221] after heaven's own heart, His vigorous warmth did variously impart To wives and slaves; and, wide as his command, Scattered his Maker's image through the land. Michal, of royal blood, the crown did wear,[222] A soil ungrateful to the tiller's care. Not so the rest; for several mothers bore To god-like David several sons before. But since like slaves his bed they did ascend, No true succession could their seed attend. Of all the[223] numerous progeny was none So beautiful, so brave, as Absalon;[224] Whether inspired by[225] by some diviner lust, His father got him with a greater gust; Or that his conscious destiny made way, By manly beauty, to imperial sway. Early in foreign fields he won renown, With kings and states, allied to Israel's crown; In peace the thoughts of war he could remove, And seemed as he were only born for love. Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease, In him alone twas natural to please; His motions all accompanied with grace, And paradise was opened in his face. With secret joy indulgent David viewed His youthful image in his son renewed; To all his wishes nothing he denied, And made the charming Annabel his bride.[226] What faults he had,--for who from faults is free? His father could not, or he would not see. Some warm excesses, which the law forbore, Were construed youth that purged by boiling o'er; And Amnon's murder, by a specious name, Was called a just revenge for injured fame.[227] Thus praised and loved, the noble youth remained, While David undisturbed in Sion reigned. But life can never be sincerely blest; Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best. The Jews, a headstrong, moody, murmuring race, As ever tried the extent and stretch of grace; God's pampered people, whom, debauched with ease, No king could govern, nor no God could please; Gods they had tried of every shape and size, That godsmiths could produce, or priests devise; These Adam-wits, too fortunately free, Began to dream they wanted liberty; And when no rule, no precedent was found, Of men, by laws less circumscribed and bound; They led their wild desires to woods and caves, And thought that all but savages were slaves. They who, when Saul[228] was dead, without a blow, Made foolish Ishbosheth[229] the crown forego; Who banished David[230] did from Hebron[231] bring, And with a general shout proclaimed him king; Those very Jews, who at their very best, Their humour more than loyalty exprest, Now wondered why so long they had obeyed An idol monarch, which their hands had made; Thought they might ruin him they could create, Or melt him to that golden calf,--a state. But these were random bolts; no formed design, Nor interest made the factious crowd to join: The sober part of Israel, free from stain, Well knew the value of a peaceful reign; And, looking backward with a wise affright, Saw seams of wounds dishonest to the sight; In contemplation of whose ugly scars, They curst the memory of civil wars. The moderate sort of men, thus qualified, Inclined the balance to the better side; And David's mildness managed it so well, The bad found no occasion to rebel. But when to sin our biassed nature leans, The careful devil is still at hand with means, And providently pimps for ill desires; The good old cause, revived, a plot requires. Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths, and ruin kings. The inhabitants of old Jerusalem[232] Were Jebusites[233]; the town so called from them; And theirs the native right.---- But when the chosen people grew more strong, The rightful cause at length became the wrong; And every loss the men of Jebus bore, They still were thought God's enemies the more. Thus worn or[234] weakened, well or ill content, Submit they must to David's government; Impoverished and deprived of all command, Their taxes doubled as they lost their land; And, what was harder yet to flesh and blood, Their gods disgraced, and burnt like common wood. This set the heathen priesthood in a flame; For priests of all religions are the same. Of whatsoe'er descent their godhead be, Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, In his defence his servants are as bold, As if he had been born of beaten gold. The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies, In this conclude them honest men and wise; For 'twas their duty, all the learned think, To espouse his cause, by whom they eat and drink. From hence began that plot, the nation's curse, Bad in itself, but represented worse;[235] Raised in extremes, and in extremes decried; With oaths affirmed, with dying vows denied; Not weighed nor winnowed by the multitude, But swallowed in the mass, unchewed and crude. Some truth there was, but dashed and brewed with lies, To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise. Succeeding times did equal folly call, Believing nothing, or believing all. The Egyptian rites the Jebusites embraced, Where gods were recommended by their taste. Such savoury deities must needs be good, As served at once for worship and for food.[236] By force they could not introduce these gods,-- For ten to one in former days was odds,-- So fraud was used, the sacrificer's trade; Fools are more hard to conquer than persuade. Their busy teachers mingled with the Jews, And raked for converts even the court and stews; Which Hebrew priests the more unkindly took, Because the fleece accompanies the flock. Some thought they God's anointed meant to slay By guns, invented since full many a day: Our author swears it not; but who can know How far the devil and Jebusites may go?[237] This plot, which failed for want of common sense, Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence; For as, when raging fevers boil the blood, The standing lake soon floats into a flood, And every hostile humour, which before Slept quiet in its channels, bubbles o'er; So several factions, from this first ferment, Work up to foam, and threat the government. Some by their friends, more by themselves thought wise, Opposed the power to which they could not rise; Some had in courts been great, and, thrown from thence, Like fiends, were hardened in impenitence; Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown From pardoned rebels kinsmen to the throne, Were raised in power and public office high; Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie. Of these the false Achitophel[238] 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;[239] Got, while his soul did huddled notions try; And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy. In friendship false, implacable in hate; Resolved to ruin, or to rule the state. To compass this the triple bond he broke; } The pillars of the public safety shook; } And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke;[240] } Then, seized with fear, yet still affecting fame, Usurped a patriot's all-atoning name.[241] So easy still it proves in factious times, With public zeal to cancel private crimes. How safe is treason, and how sacred ill, Where none can sin against the people's will? Where crowds can wink, and no offence be known, Since in another's guilt they find their own? Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin[242] With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean, Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress; Swift of dispatch, and easy of access. Oh! had he been content to serve the crown, With virtue only proper to the gown; Or had the rankness of the soil been freed From cockle, that oppressed the noble seed; David for him his tuneful harp had strung, And heaven had wanted one immortal song. But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand, And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land. Achitophel, grown weary to possess A lawful fame, and lazy happiness, Disdained the golden fruit to gather free, And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree. Now, manifest of crimes contrived long since, He stood at bold defiance with his prince; Held up the buckler of the people's cause Against the crown, and skulked behind the laws.[243] The wished occasion of the plot he takes; Some circumstances finds, but more he makes; By buzzing emissaries, fills the ears Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears, Of arbitrary counsels brought to light, And proves the king himself a Jebusite. Weak arguments! which yet, he knew full well, Were strong with people easy to rebel. For, governed by the moon, the giddy Jews Tread the same track when she the prime renews; And once in twenty years their scribes record, By natural instinct they change their lord. Achitophel still wants a chief, and none Was found so fit as warlike Absalon. Not that he wished his greatness to create, For politicians neither love nor hate; But, for he knew his title not allowed, Would keep him still depending on the crowd; That kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. Him he attempts with studied arts to please, And sheds his venom in such words as these. Auspicious prince, at whose nativity Some royal planet ruled the southern sky; Thy longing country's darling and desire; Their cloudy pillar and their guardian fire; Their second Moses, whose extended wand Divides[244] the seas, and shews the promised land; Whose dawning day, in every distant age, Has exercised the sacred prophet's rage; The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme, The young men's vision, and the old men's dream! Thee, Saviour, thee the nation's vows confess, And, never satisfied with seeing, bless; Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim, And stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name. How long wilt thou the general joy detain, Starve and defraud the people of thy reign; Content ingloriously to pass thy days, Like one of virtue's fools that feed on praise; 'Till thy fresh glories, which now shine so bright, Grow stale, and tarnish with our daily sight? Believe me, royal youth, thy fruit must be Or gathered ripe, or rot upon the tree. Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late, Some lucky revolution of their fate; Whose motions if we watch and guide with skill, (For human good depends on human will,) Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent, And from the first impression takes the bent; But, if unseized, she glides away like wind, And leaves repenting folly far behind. Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize, And spreads her locks before you as she flies. Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring, Not dared, when fortune called him, to be king, At Gath[245] an exile he might still remain, And heaven's anointing oil had been in vain. Let his successful youth your hopes engage; But shun the example of declining age: Behold him setting in his western skies, The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise. He is not now, as when, on Jordan's[246] sand, } The joyful people thronged to see him land, } Covering the beach and blackening all the strand; } But, like the prince of angels, from his height Comes tumbling downward with diminished light; Betrayed by one poor plot to public scorn, Our only blessing since his curst return; Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind, Blown off and scattered by a puff of wind. What strength can he to your designs oppose, Naked of friends, and round beset with foes? If Pharaoh's[247] doubtful succour he should use, A foreign aid would more incense the Jews; Proud Egypt[248] would dissembled friendship bring; Foment the war, but not support the king: Nor would the royal party e'er unite With Pharaoh's arms, to assist the Jebusite; Or, if they should, their interest soon would break, And with such odious aid make David weak. All sorts of men, by my successful arts Abhorring kings, estrange their altered hearts From David's rule; and 'tis their general cry, Religion, commonwealth, and liberty. If you, as champion of the public good, Add to their arms a chief of royal blood, What may not Israel hope, and what applause Might such a general gain by such a cause? Not barren praise alone, that gaudy flower Fair only to the sight, but solid power; And nobler is a limited command, Given by the love of all your native land, Than a successive title, long and dark, Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark.[249] What cannot praise effect in mighty minds, When flattery sooths, and when ambition blinds? Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed; In God 'tis glory; and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire. The ambitious youth, too covetous of fame, Too full of angel's metal in his frame, Unwarily was led from virtue's ways, Made drunk with honour, and debauched with praise. Half loath, and half consenting to the ill,-- For royal blood within him struggled still,-- He thus replied.--And what pretence have I To take up arms for public liberty? My father governs with unquestioned right, The faith's defender, and mankind's delight; Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws; And heaven by wonders has espoused his cause. Whom has he wronged in all his peaceful reign? Who sues for justice to his throne in vain? What millions has he pardoned of his foes, Whom just revenge did to his wrath expose? Mild, easy, humble, studious of our good, Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood. If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit, His crime is God's beloved attribute. What could he gain his people to betray, Or change his right for arbitrary sway? Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train. If David's rule Jerusalem displease, The dog-star heats their brains to this disease. Why then should I, encouraging the bad, Turn rebel, and run popularly mad? Were he a tyrant, who by lawless might Oppressed the Jews, and raised the Jebusite, Well might I mourn; but nature's holy bands Would curb my spirits, and restrain my hands: The people might assert their liberty; But what was right in them were crime in me. His favour leaves me nothing to require, Prevents my wishes, and out-runs desire. What more can I expect while David lives? All but his kingly diadem he gives; And that--But there he paused; then sighing, said-- Is justly destined for a worthier head; For, when my father from his toils shall rest, And late augment the number of the blest, His lawful issue shall the throne ascend, Or the collateral line, where that shall end. His brother, though oppressed with vulgar spite,[250] Yet dauntless, and secure of native right, Of every royal virtue stands possest; Still dear to all the bravest and the best. His courage foes, his friends his truth proclaim; His loyalty the king, the world his fame. His mercy even the offending crowd will find; For sure he comes of a forgiving kind. Why should I then repine at heaven's decree, Which gives me no pretence to royalty? Yet oh that fate, propitiously inclined, Had raised my birth, or had debased my mind; To my large soul not all her treasure lent, And then betrayed it to a mean descent! I find, I find my mounting spirits bold, And David's part disdains my mother's mould. Why am I scanted by a niggard birth? My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth; And, made for empire, whispers me within, Desire of greatness is a god-like sin. Him staggering so, when hell's dire agent found, While fainting virtue scarce maintained her ground, He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies: The eternal God, supremely good and wise, Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain. What wonders are reserved to bless your reign! Against your will your arguments have shown, Such virtue's only given to guide a throne. Not that your father's mildness I contemn; But manly force becomes the diadem. 'Tis true, he grants the people all they crave; And more, perhaps, than subjects ought to have; For lavish grants suppose a monarch tame, And more his goodness than his wit proclaim: But when should people strive their bonds to break, If not when kings are negligent, or weak? Let him give on till he can give no more, The thrifty sanhedrim shall keep him poor; And every shekel, which he can receive, Shall cost a limb of his prerogative. To ply him with new plots shall be my care, Or plunge him deep in some expensive war; Which when his treasure can no more supply, He must, with the remains of kingship, buy. His faithful friends, our jealousies and fears Call Jebusites, and Pharaoh's pensioners; Whom when our fury from his aid has torn, He shall be naked left to public scorn. The next successor, whom I fear and hate, My arts have made obnoxious to the state; Turned all his virtues to his overthrow, And gained our elders to pronounce a foe.[251] His right, for sums of necessary gold, Shall first be pawned, and afterwards be sold; 'Till time shall ever-wanting David draw, To pass your doubtful title into law: If not, the people have a right supreme To make their kings; for kings are made for them. All empire is no more than power in trust, Which, when resumed, can be no longer just. Succession, for the general good designed, In its own wrong a nation cannot bind; If altering that the people can relieve, Better one suffer than a nation grieve. The Jews well know their power; ere Saul[252] they chose, God was their king, and God they durst depose. Urge now your piety, your filial name, A father's right, and fear of future fame;-- The public good, that universal call, To which even heaven submitted, answers all. Nor let his love enchant your generous mind; 'Tis nature's trick to propagate her kind. Our fond begetters, who would never die, Love but themselves in their posterity. Or let his kindness by the effects be tried, Or let him lay his vain pretence aside. God said, he loved your father; could he bring A better proof, than to anoint him king? It surely shewed he loved the shepherd well, Who gave so fair a flock as Israel. Would David have you thought his darling son? What means he then to alienate the crown? The name of godly he may blush to bear; Is't[253] after God's own heart to cheat his heir? He to his brother gives supreme command, To you a legacy of barren land; Perhaps the old harp, on which he thrums his lays, Or some dull Hebrew ballad in your praise. Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise, Already looks on you with jealous eyes;[254] Sees through the thin disguises of your arts, And marks your progress in the people's hearts; Though now his mighty soul its grief contains, He meditates revenge who least complains; And like a lion, slumbering in the way, Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey, His fearless foes within his distance draws, Constrains his roaring, and contracts his paws; 'Till, at the last, his time for fury found, He shoots with sudden vengeance from the ground; The prostrate vulgar passes o'er and spares, But with a lordly rage his hunters tears. Your case no tame expedients will afford; Resolve on death, or conquest by the sword, Which for no less a stake than life you draw; And self defence is nature's eldest law. Leave the warm people no considering time; For then rebellion may be thought a crime. Avail[255] yourself of what occasion gives, But try your title while your father lives; And that your arms may have a fair pretence, Proclaim you take them in the kings defence; Whose sacred life each minute would expose To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes. And who can sound the depth of David's soul?[256] Perhaps his fear his kindness may controul. He fears his brother, though he loves his son, For plighted vows too late to be undone. If so, by force he wishes to be gained; Like women's lechery to seem constrained. Doubt not; but, when he most affects the frown, Commit a pleasing rape upon the crown. Secure his person to secure your cause; They, who possess the prince, possess the laws. He said, and this advice, above the rest, With Absalom's mild nature suited best; Unblamed of life, ambition set aside, Not stained with cruelty, not puft with pride. How happy had he been, if destiny Had higher placed his birth, or not so high! His kingly virtues might have claimed a throne, And blest all other countries but his own; But charming greatness since so few refuse, 'Tis juster to lament him than accuse. Strong were his hopes a rival to remove, With blandishments to gain the public love; To head the faction while their zeal was hot, And popularly prosecute the plot. To further this, Achitophel unites The malcontents of all the Israelites; Whose differing parties he could wisely join, For several ends, to serve the same design. The best,--and of the princes some were such, Who thought the power of monarchy too much; Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts; Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts. By these the springs of property were bent, And wound so high, they cracked the government. The next for interest sought to embroil the state, To sell their duty at a dearer rate, And make their Jewish markets of the throne; Pretending public good, to serve their own. Others thought kings an useless heavy load, Who cost too much, and did too little good. These were for laying honest David by, On principles of pure good husbandry.[257] With them joined all the haranguers of the throng; That thought to get preferment by the tongue. Who follow next a double danger bring, Not only hating David, but the king; The Solymæan rout; well versed, of old, In godly faction, and in treason bold; Cowring and quaking at a conqueror's sword, But lofty to a lawful prince restored; Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun, And scorned by Jebusites to be outdone. Hot Levites[258] headed these; who, pulled before From the ark, which in the judges' days they bore,[259] Resumed their cant, and, with a zealous cry, Pursued their old beloved theocracy; Where sanhedrim and priest enslaved the nation, And justified their spoils by inspiration. For who so fit to reign as Aaron's race, If once dominion they could found in grace? These led the pack; though not of surest scent, Yet deepest mouthed against the government. A numerous host of dreaming saints succeed, Of the true old enthusiastic breed; 'Gainst form and order they their power employ, Nothing to build, and all things to destroy. But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much. These out of mere instinct, they knew not why, Adored their fathers' God, and property; And, by the same blind benefit of fate, The devil and the Jebusite did hate; Born to be saved, even in their own despite. Because they could not help believing right. Such were the tools; but a whole Hydra more Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. Some of their chiefs were princes of the land: In the first rank of these did Zimri[260] stand; A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome; Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was every thing by starts, and nothing long; But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chemist, fidler, statesman, and buffoon; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman, who could every hour employ, With something new to wish, or to enjoy! Railing and praising were his usual themes; And both, to shew his judgment, in extremes; So over violent, or over civil, That every man with him was God or devil. In squandering wealth was his peculiar art; Nothing went unrewarded but desert. Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late; He had his jest, and they had his estate. He laughed himself from court; then sought relief By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief; For, spite of him, the weight of business fell On Absalom, and wise Achitophel; Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, He left not faction, but of that was left. Titles and names 'twere tedious to rehearse Of lords, below the dignity of verse. Wits, warriors, commonwealths-men, were the best; Kind husbands, and mere nobles, all the rest. And therefore, in the name of dulness, be The well-hung Balaam and cold Caleb free; And canting Nadab let oblivion damn,[261] Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb. Let friendship's holy band some names assure; Some their own worth, and some let scorn secure. Nor shall the rascal rabble here have place, Whom kings no titles gave, and God no grace: Not bull-faced Jonas,[262] who could statutes draw To mean rebellion, and make treason law. But he, though bad, is followed by a worse, The wretch, who heaven's anointed dared to curse; Shimei,[263]--whose youth did early promise bring Of zeal to God, and hatred to his king,-- Did wisely from expensive sins refrain, And never broke the sabbath but for gain: Nor ever was he known an oath to vent, Or curse, unless against a government. Thus heaping wealth, by the most ready way Among the jews, which was--to cheat and pray; The city, to reward his pious hate Against his master, chose him magistrate. His hand a vase of justice did uphold; His neck was loaded with a chain of gold. During his office treason was no crime; The sons of Belial had a glorious time: For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf, Yet loved his wicked neighbour as himself. When two or three were gathered to declaim } Against the monarch of Jerusalem, } Shimei was always in the midst of them: } And, if they cursed the king when he was by, Would rather curse than break good company. If any durst his factious friends accuse, He packed a jury of dissenting jews;[264] Whose fellow-feeling in the Godly cause Would free the suffering saint from human laws: For laws are only made to punish those Who serve the king, and to protect his foes. If any leisure time he had from power,-- Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour,-- His business was, by writing, to persuade, That kings were useless, and a clog to trade:[265] And, that his noble style he might refine, No Rechabite more shunned the fumes of wine. Chaste were his cellars, and his shrieval board The grossness of a city-feast abhorred. His cooks, with long disuse, their trade forgot; Cool was his kitchen, though his brains were hot. Such frugal virtue malice may accuse; But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews: For towns, once burnt, such magistrates require, As dare not tempt God's providence by fire. With spiritual food he fed his servants well, But free from flesh, that made the Jews rebel: And Moses' laws he held in more account, For forty days of fasting in the mount. To speak the rest, (who better are forgot,) Would tire a well-breathed witness of the plot. Yet Corah,[266] thou shalt from oblivion pass; Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, High as the serpent of thy metal made, While nations stand secure beneath thy shade! What though his birth were base, yet comets rise From earthy vapours, ere they shine in skies. Prodigious actions may as well be done By weaver's issue, as by prince's son. This arch-attestor for the public good By that one deed ennobles all his blood. Who ever asked the witnesses high race, Whose oath with martyrdom did Stephen grace? Ours was a Levite, and, as times went then, His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen. Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud:[267] Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud: His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace A church vermillion, and a Moses' face. His memory, miraculously great, Could plots, exceeding man's belief, repeat; Which therefore cannot be accounted lies, For human wit could never such devise. Some future truths are mingled in his book; But where the witness failed the prophet spoke: Some things like visionary flight appear; The spirit caught him up,--the Lord knows where, And gave him his rabinical degree, Unknown to foreign university.[268] His judgment yet his memory did excel; Which pieced his wonderous evidence so well, And suited to the temper of the times, Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes. Let Israel's foes suspect his heavenly call, And rashly judge his writ apocryphal; Our laws for such affronts have forfeits made: He takes his life, who takes away his trade. Were I myself in witness Corah's place, The wretch, who did me such a dire disgrace, Should whet my memory, though once forgot, To make him an appendix of my plot. His zeal to heaven made him his prince despise, And load his person with indignities. But zeal peculiar privilege affords, Indulging latitude to deeds and words: And Corah might for Agag's[269] murder call, In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul. What others in his evidence did join, The best that could be had for love or coin, In Corah's own predicament will fall: For witness is a common name to all. Surrounded thus with friends of every sort, Deluded Absalom forsakes the court; Impatient of high hopes, urged with renown, And fired with near possession of a crown. The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise, And on his goodly person feed their eyes. His joys concealed,[270] he sets himself to show; On each side bowing popularly low: His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames, And with familiar ease repeats their names. Thus formed by nature, furnished out with arts, He glides unfelt into their secret hearts. Then with a kind compassionating look, And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke, Few words he said; but easy those and fit, More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet. I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate; Though far unable to prevent your fate: Behold a banished man, for your dear cause Exposed a prey to arbitrary laws! Yet oh! that I alone could be undone, Cut off from empire, and no more a son! Now all your liberties a spoil are made; } Egypt and Tyrus[271] intercept your trade, } And Jebusites your sacred rites invade. } My father,--whom with reverence yet I name-- Charmed into ease, is careless of his fame; And, bribed with petty sums of foreign gold, Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old;[272] Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys, And all his power against himself employs. He gives,--and let him give,--my right away: But why should he his own and yours betray? He, only he, can make the nation bleed, And he alone from my revenge is freed. Take then my tears,--with that he wiped his eyes,-- 'Tis all the aid my present power supplies: No court-informer can these arms accuse; These arms may sons against their fathers use: And 'tis my wish, the next successor's reign May make no other Israelite complain. Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail; But common interest always will prevail; And pity never ceases to be shown To him who makes the people's wrongs his own. The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress, With lifted hands their young Messiah bless: Who now begins his progress to ordain With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train:[273] From east to west his glories he displays, And, like the sun, the promised land surveys. Fame runs before him as the morning-star, And shouts of joy salute him from afar; Each house receives him as a guardian god, And consecrates the place of his abode. But hospitable treats did most commend Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend.[274] This moving court, that caught the people's eyes, And seemed but pomp, did other ends disguise: Achitophel had formed it, with intent To sound the depths, and fathom, where it went, The people's hearts, distinguish friends from foes, And try their strength before they came to blows. Yet all was coloured with a smooth pretence Of specious love, and duty to their prince. Religion, and redress of grievances, (Two names that always cheat, and always please,) Are often urged; and good king David's life, Endangered by a brother and a wife.[275] Thus in a pageant-shew a plot is made; And peace itself is war in masquerade. Oh foolish Israel! never warned by ill! Still the same bait, and circumvented still! Did ever men forsake their present ease, In midst of health imagine a disease, Take pains contingent mischiefs to foresee, Make heirs for monarchs, and for God decree? What shall we think? Can people give away, Both for themselves and sons, their native sway? Then they are left defenceless to the sword Of each unbounded, arbitrary lord: And laws are vain, by which we right enjoy, If kings unquestioned can those laws destroy. Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just, And kings are only officers in trust, Then this resuming covenant was declared When kings were made, or is for ever barred. If those, who gave the sceptre, could not tie, By their own deed, their own posterity, How then could Adam bind his future race? How could his forfeit on mankind take place? Or how could heavenly justice damn us all, Who ne'er consented to our father's fall? Then kings are slaves to those whom they command, And tenants to their people's pleasure stand. Add, that the power, for property allowed, Is mischievously seated in the crowd; For who can be secure of private right, If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might? Nor is the people's judgment always true: The most may err as grossly as the few; And faultless kings run down by common cry, For vice, oppression, and for tyranny. What standard is there in a fickle rout, Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out? Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be Infected with this public lunacy, And share the madness of rebellious times, To murder monarchs for imagined crimes. If they may give and take whene'er they please, Not kings alone, the Godhead's images, But government itself, at length must fall To nature's state, where all have right to all. Yet, grant our lords, the people, kings can make, What prudent men a settled throne would shake? For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before, That change they covet makes them suffer more. All other errors but disturb a state; But innovation is the blow of fate. If ancient fabrics nod, and threat to fall, To patch their flaws, and buttress up the wall, Thus far 'tis duty: but here fix the mark; For all beyond it is to touch the ark. To change foundations, cast the frame anew, Is work for rebels, who base ends pursue; At once divine and human laws controul, And mend the parts by ruin of the whole. The tampering world is subject to this curse, To physic their disease into a worse. Now what relief can righteous David bring? How fatal 'tis to be too good a king! Friends he has few, so high the madness grows; Who dare be such must be the people's foes. Yet some there were, even in the worst of days; Some let me name, and naming is to praise. In this short file Barzillai[276] first appears; Barzillai, crowned with honour and with years. Long since, the rising rebels he withstood In regions waste beyond the Jordan's flood:[277] Unfortunately brave to buoy the state; But sinking underneath his master's fate: In exile with his godlike prince he mourned; For him he suffered, and with him returned. The court he practised, not the courtier's art: Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart, Which well the noblest objects knew to choose, The fighting warrior, and recording muse. His bed could once a fruitful issue boast; Now more than half a father's name is lost. His eldest hope, with every grace adorned, By me, so heaven will have it, always mourned, And always honoured, snatched in manhood's prime By unequal fates, and providence's crime:[278] Yet not before the goal of honour won, } All parts fulfilled of subject and of son: } Swift was the race, but short the time to run. } Oh narrow circle, but of power divine, Scanted in space, and perfect in thy line! By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known, Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own: Thy force infused the fainting Tyrians[279] prop'd, And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stop'd. Oh ancient honour! Oh unconquered hand, Whom foes unpunished never could withstand! But Israel was unworthy of his name:[280] Short is the date of all immoderate fame.[281] It looks as heaven our ruin had designed, And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind. Now, free from earth, thy disencumbered soul Mounts up, and leaves behind the clouds and starry pole: From thence thy kindred legions may'st thou bring, To aid the guardian angel of thy king. Here stop, my muse; here cease thy painful flight; No pinions can pursue immortal height: Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more, And tell thy soul she should have fled before: Or fled she with his life, and left this verse To hang on her departed patron's hearse? Now take thy steepy flight from heaven, and see If thou canst find on earth another he: Another he would be too hard to find; See then whom thou canst see not far behind. Zadoc the priest,[282] whom, shunning power and place, His lowly mind advanced to David's grace. With him the Sagan[283] of Jerusalem, Of hospitable soul, and noble stem; Him of the western dome,[284] whose weighty sense Flows in fit words, and heavenly eloquence. The prophet's sons, by such example led, To learning and to loyalty were bred: For colleges on bounteous kings depend, And never rebel was to arts a friend. To these succeed the pillars of the laws; Who best can plead, and best can judge a cause. Next them a train of loyal peers ascend; Sharp-judging Adriel,[285] the muses friend, Himself a muse: in Sanhedrim's debate, True to his prince, but not a slave of state: Whom David's love with honours did adorn, That from his disobedient son were torn. Jotham, of piercing wit, and pregnant thought,[286] Endued by nature, and by learning taught, To move assemblies, who but only tried The worse a-while, then chose the better side: Nor chose alone, but turned the balance too; So much the weight of one brave man can do. Hushai, the friend of David in distress; In public storms, of manly stedfastness;[287] By foreign treaties he informed his youth, And joined experience to his native truth. His frugal care supplied the wanting throne; Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own: 'Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow, But hard the task to manage well the low; For sovereign power is too depressed or high, When kings are forced to sell, or crowds to buy. Indulge one labour more, my weary muse, For Amiel; who can Amiel's praise refuse?[288] Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet In his own worth, and without title great: The Sanhedrim long time as chief he ruled, Their reason guided, and their passion cooled: So dexterous was he in the crown's defence, So formed to speak a loyal nation's sense, That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, So fit was he to represent them all. Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, Whose loose careers his steady skill commend: They, like the unequal ruler of the day, Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way; While he, withdrawn, at their mad labours smiles, And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils. These were the chief; a small but faithful band } Of worthies, in the breach who dared to stand, } And tempt the united fury of the land. } With grief they viewed such powerful engines bent, To batter down the lawful government. A numerous faction, with pretended frights, In Sanhedrims to plume the legal rights; The true successor from the court removed; The plot, by hireling witnesses, improved. These ills they saw, and, as their duty bound, They shewed the king the danger of the wound; That no concessions from the throne would please, But lenitives fomented the disease: That Absalom, ambitious of the crown, Was made the lure to draw the people down: That false Achitophel's pernicious hate Had turned the plot to ruin church and state: The council violent, the rabble worse; That Shimei taught Jerusalem to curse. With all these loads of injuries opprest, And long revolving in his careful breast The event of things, at last, his patience tired, Thus, from his royal throne, by heaven inspired, The god-like David spoke; with awful fear His train their Maker in their master hear.[289] Thus long, have I by native mercy swayed, My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delayed; So willing to forgive the offending age; So much the father did the king assuage. But now so far my clemency they slight, The offenders question my forgiving right.[290] That one was made for many, they contend; But 'tis to rule; for that's a monarch's end. They call my tenderness of blood, my fear; Though manly tempers can the longest bear. Yet since they will divert my native course, 'Tis time to shew I am not good by force. Those heaped affronts, that haughty subjects bring, Are burdens for a camel, not a king. Kings are the public pillars of the state, Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight: If my young Sampson will pretend a call To shake the column, let him share the fall:[291] But oh, that yet he would repent and live! How easy 'tis for parents to forgive! With how few tears a pardon might be won From nature, pleading for a darling son! Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care Raised up to all the height his frame could bear! Had God ordained his fate for empire born, He would have given his soul another turn: Gulled with a patriot's name, whose modern sense Is one that would by law supplant his prince; The people's brave, the politician's tool; Never was patriot yet, but was a fool. Whence comes it, that religion and the laws Should more be Absalom's than David's cause? His old instructor, ere he lost his place, Was never thought endued with so much grace. Good heavens, how faction can a patriot paint! My rebel ever proves my people's saint. Would they impose an heir upon the throne? Let Sanhedrims be taught to give their own. A king's at least a part of government; And mine as requisite as their consent: Without my leave a future king to chuse, Infers a right the present to depose. True, they petition me to approve their choice; But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice. My pious subjects for my safety pray; Which to secure, they take my power away. From plots and treasons heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my petitioners![292] Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave; God cannot grant so much as they can crave. What then is left, but with a jealous eye To guard the small remains of royalty? The law shall still direct my peaceful sway, And the same law teach rebels to obey: Votes shall no more established power controul,-- Such votes, as make a part exceed the whole No groundless clamours shall my friend remove, Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove; For Gods and god-like kings their care express, Still to defend their servants in distress Oh, that my power to saving were confined! } Why am I forced, like heaven, against my mind, } To make examples of another kind? } Must I at length the sword of justice draw? Oh curst effects of necessary law! How ill my fear they by my mercy scan! Beware the fury of a patient man. Law they require, let law then shew her face; They could not be content to look on grace, Her hinder parts, but with a daring eye, To tempt the terror of her front, and die. By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed, Those dire artificers of death shall bleed. Against themselves their witnesses will swear,[293] 'Till, viper like, their mother-plot they tear; And suck for nutriment that bloody gore, Which was their principle of life before. Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight; Thus on my foes, my foes shall do me right: Nor doubt the event; for factious crowds engage, In their first onset, all their brutal rage. Then let them take an unresisted course; Retire, and traverse, and delude their force: But when they stand all breathless, urge the fight, And rise upon them with redoubled might: For lawful power is still superior found; When long driven back, at length it stands the ground. He said; the Almighty, nodding, gave consent, And peals of thunder shook the firmament. Henceforth a series of new time began, The mighty years in long procession ran; Once more the god-like David was restored, And willing nations knew their lawful lord.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 221: Charles II. See note I.]
[Footnote 222: Queen Catherine. See note II.]
[Footnote 223: First edit. _this_.]
[Footnote 224: Duke of Monmouth. See note III.]
[Footnote 225: First edit. _with_.]
[Footnote 226: Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth. See note IV.]
[Footnote 227: Note V.]
[Footnote 228: Cromwell.]
[Footnote 229: Richard Cromwell.]
[Footnote 230: Charles II.]
[Footnote 231: Here, Flanders or Holland; afterwards Scotland.]
[Footnote 232: London.]
[Footnote 233: Roman Catholics.]
[Footnote 234: First edit. _and_.]
[Footnote 235: Note VI.]
[Footnote 236: A sneer at the doctrine of transubstantiation, which our author afterwards attempted to defend.]
[Footnote 237: Note VII.]
[Footnote 238: Shaftesbury. See note VIII.]
[Footnote 239: Note IX.]
[Footnote 240: Note X.]
[Footnote 241: First edit. _A patron's_. The next twelve lines were added after the first edition. See Introduction.]
[Footnote 242: Note XI.]
[Footnote 243: Note XII.]
[Footnote 244: First edit. _Shuts up_.]
[Footnote 245: The land of exile, more particularly Brussels, where Charles long resided.]
[Footnote 246: Dover.]
[Footnote 247: King of France.]
[Footnote 248: France.]
[Footnote 249: Note XIII.]
[Footnote 250: James Duke of York, whose exclusion, as a Catholic, was warmly urged in the House of Commons.]
[Footnote 251: Note XIV.]
[Footnote 252: The allusion is to the Republic, who acknowleged God alone for their king, but were dispossessed by Cromwell, here, as formerly, called Saul.]
[Footnote 253: First edit. _'Tis_.]
[Footnote 254: Note XV.]
[Footnote 255: First edit. _Prevail_.]
[Footnote 256: Note XVI.]
[Footnote 257: A thrifty and frugal doctrine, not forgotten by the reformers of our own day.]
[Footnote 258: Note XVII.]
[Footnote 259: The dissenting clergymen, expelled by the Act of Conformity.]
[Footnote 260: The Duke of Buckingham. See note XVIII.]
[Footnote 261: Balaam, the earl of Huntingdon; Caleb, lord Gray of Wark; Nadab, lord Howard of Escrick. Note XIX. XX. XXI.]
[Footnote 262: Sir William Jones. See note XXII.]
[Footnote 263: Slingsby Bethel, one of the sheriffs of London. See note XXIII.]
[Footnote 264: Note XXIV.]
[Footnote 265: He wrote a treatise on the Interest of Princes.]
[Footnote 266: Titus Oates. See note XXV.]
[Footnote 267: Note XXVI.]
[Footnote 268: Oates pretended to have taken his degree of doctor at Salamanca. See note XXVII. Also vol. VII. p. 164.]
[Footnote 269: Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. See Note XXVIII.]
[Footnote 270: First edit.--Dissembling joy.]
[Footnote 271: France and Holland.]
[Footnote 272: Duchess of Portsmouth, mistress to Charles II.]
[Footnote 273: Note XXIX.]
[Footnote 274: Thomas Thynne, Esq. See note XXX.]
[Footnote 275: Note XXXI.]
[Footnote 276: The Duke of Ormond. See note XXXII.]
[Footnote 277: In Ireland.]
[Footnote 278: The Earl of Ossory. See note XXXIII.]
[Footnote 279: Alluding to Lord Ossory's services in the Dutch war against the French.]
[Footnote 280: First edit, _birth_.]
[Footnote 281: First edit, _worth_.]
[Footnote 282: Note XXXIV.]
[Footnote 283: Note XXXV.]
[Footnote 284: Note XXXVI.]
[Footnote 285: Note XXXVII.]
[Footnote 286: Note XXXVIII.]
[Footnote 287: Note XXXIX.]
[Footnote 288: Note XL.]
[Footnote 289: Note XLI.]
[Footnote 290: Note XLII.]
[Footnote 291: The four following lines were added after the first edition. See Introduction.]
[Footnote 292: Note XLIII.]
[Footnote 293: Note XLIV.]
NOTES ON ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.
Note I.
_Michal, of royal blood, the crown did wear, A soil ungrateful to the tiller's care._--P. 217.
Queen Catherine of Portugal, the wife of Charles II., resembled the daughter of Saul in the circumstance mentioned in the text. She was plain in her person, and consequently possessed little influence over her gallant husband. She was, however, always treated by him with decent civility; and indeed, when persecuted by the popular party, experienced his warmest protection. Her greatest fault was her being educated a Catholic; her greatest misfortune, her bearing the king no children; and her greatest foible an excessive love of dancing. It might have occurred to the good people of these times, that loving a ball was not a capital sin, even in a person whose figure excluded her from the hopes of gracing it; that a princess of Portugal must be a Catholic, if she had any religion at all; and, finally, that to bear children, it is necessary some one should take the trouble of getting them. But these obvious considerations did not prevent her being grossly abused in the libels of the times,[294] and very nearly made a party in Dr Titus Oates' Appendix to his Original Plot.
Note II.
_Not so the rest; for several mothers bore To god-like David several sons before._--P. 217.
Charles left a numerous family of illegitimate children by his various mistresses. Besides the Duke of Monmouth to be presently mentioned, he had a daughter by Lady Shannon, and the Earl of Plymouth by Mrs Catherine Pegge; by the Duchess of Cleveland he had the Dukes of Cleveland, Gratton, and Northumberland, and three daughters; by Mrs Eleanor Gwyn he had the Duke of St Alban's, and James Beauclerk; the Duchess of Portsmouth bore him the Duke of Richmond and Lennox: with a daughter by Mrs Mary Davies, the king's children amounted to the number of eight sons and five daughters.
Note III.
_Of all the numerous progeny, was none So beautiful, so brave, as Absalon._--P. 217.
James Stuart, Duke of Monmouth and Buccleuch, was born at Rotterdam, 9th April, 1649, in the very heat of the civil wars. He was the son of Charles II. and Mrs Lucy Walters, or Waters, otherwise called Barlow, a beautiful young lady, of a good Welch family. He was educated privately in Holland, under the assumed name of James Crofts; and the respect with which his mother and he were treated by the cavalier, afforded a foundation for the argument of his adherents, who afterwards contended, that the king had been privately married to that lady. After the Restoration, the king sent for this young gentleman to court, where the royal favour and his own personal and acquired accomplishments soon made him very remarkable. Of his outward appearance, Count Hamilton, the gay recorder of the gaieties of the court of Charles, has given us a most interesting description, which is not belied by portraits which are still preserved. "Nature," says the count, "perhaps never formed any thing so perfect as the external graces of his person." His face was beautiful; but it was a masculine beauty, unmixed with any thing weak or effeminate: each feature had its own peculiar and interesting turn of expression. He had admirable address in all active exercises, an attractive manner, and an air of princely majesty. Yet his mental qualities did not altogether support this prepossessing exterior; or rather his fate plunged him into scenes where more was necessary than the mind and manners which, in more regular times, would have distinguished him as an accomplished cavalier in peace and war. He was married, by the king's interference, to Anne Scott, Countess of Buccleuch, sole surviving child of Francis, Earl of Buccleuch, and heiress of the extensive estate which the powerful family she represented had acquired on the frontiers of Scotland. The young prince had been previously created Duke of Orkney, a title now changed for that of Monmouth; and the king, upon his marriage, added to his honours the dukedom of Buccleuch. Thus favoured at home, he was also fortunate enough to have an opportunity of acquiring military fame, by serving two campaigns as a volunteer in Louis XIV.'s army against the Dutch. He particularly distinguished himself at the siege of Maestricht, where he led the storming party, took possession of the counterscarp, and made good his quarters against the repeated and desperate attempts of the besieged to dislodge him. Monmouth also served a campaign with the Dutch against the French, in 1678, and is on all hands allowed to have displayed great personal bravery; especially in the famous attack on the Duke of Luxemburgh's line before Mons, when the Prince of Orange, whose judgment can hardly be doubted, formed that good opinion of his military skill, which he stated when he offered to command the forces of his father-in-law against the Duke on his last unfortunate expedition. With that renown which is so willingly conferred upon the noble and the beautiful, the Duke returned to England, and met with a distinguished reception from Charles, by whom he was loaded with favours, as will appear from the following list of his titles and offices.
He was Duke of Monmouth and Buccleuch; Earl of Doncaster and Dalkeith; Lord Scott of Tinedale, Whichester, and Eskdale; Lord Great Chamberlain of Scotland, Lord-Lieutenant of the east Riding of Yorkshire; Governor of the town and citadel of Kingston upon Hull; Chief Justice in Eyre of all his Majesty's forests, chases, parks, and warrens on the south side of the Trent; Lord-General of all his Majesty's land forces; Captain of his Majesty's Life-guards of horse; Chancellor of the university of Cambridge; Master of horse to the King; one of the Lords of the Privy Council, and Knight of the order of the Garter.
Thus highly distinguished by rank, reputation, and royal favour, he appears for some time to have dedicated himself chiefly to the pleasures of the court, when an unfortunate quarrel with the Duke of York, in the rivalry of an intrigue,[295] laid the foundation for that difference, which was one great means of embroiling the latter years of Charles's reign, and finally cost Monmouth his head. When his quarrel with his uncle, whose unforgiving temper was well known, had become inveterate and irreconcileable, the Duke of Monmouth was led to head the faction most inimical to the interests of York, and speedily became distinguished by the name of the Protestant Duke, the dearest title that his party could bestow. The prospect which now opened itself before Monmouth was such as might have turned the head of a man of deeper political capacity. The heir apparent, his personal enemy, had become the object of popular hatred to such a degree, that the bill, excluding him from the succession, seemed to have every chance of being carried through the House of Lords, as it had already passed the Commons. The rights of the Queen were not likely to interest any one; and it seems generally to have been believed, however unjustly as it proved, that Charles was too fond of Monmouth, too jealous of his brother, and too little scrupulous of ways and means, to hesitate at declaring this favourite youth his legitimate successor.
Under such favourable circumstances, it is no wonder that Monmouth gave way to the dictates of ambition; and while he probably conceived that he was only giving his father an opportunity to manifest his secret partiality, he became more and more deeply involved in the plots of Shaftesbury, whose bustling and intriguing spirit saw at once the use to be made of Monmouth's favour with the king, and popularity with the public. From that time, their union became close and inseparable; even while Shaftesbury was yet a member of the king's administration. Their meetings were conducted with a secrecy and mystery which argued their importance. According to Carte, they were held at Lord Shaftesbury's and Charleton's houses, both parties coming in private, and in hackney coaches. Some of Monmouth's partizans had even the boldness to assert the legitimacy of their patron, to prepare for his supplanting the Duke of York. When the insurrection of the Covenanters broke out in Scotland, Monmouth was employed against them, a duty which he executed with fidelity and success. He completely defeated the insurgents in the battle of Bothwell Bridge, and returned to the court in all the freshness of his laurels. This was in the year 1679, and Monmouth's good fortune had then attained its summit. He was beloved by the people, general of all the forces both in England and Scotland; London was at the devotion of Shaftesbury, the Duke of York banished to Brussels, and universally detested on account of his religion. At this important moment Charles fell ill of a fever at Windsor. Had he died it is very probable that Monmouth would have found himself in a condition to agitate successfully a title to the crown. But either the king's attachment to the Catholic religion, in the profession of which he finally died, or his sense of justice and hereditary right occasioned an extraordinary alteration of measures at this momentous crisis. The Duke of York was summoned from abroad, arrived at Windsor, and by his presence and activity at once resumed that ascendance over Charles, which his more stern genius had always possessed, and animated the sunken spirit of his own partizans. By a most sudden and surprising revolution, York was restored to all his brother's favour. For although he was obliged to retire to Scotland to avoid the fury of the exclusionists, yet a sharper exile awaited his rival Monmouth, who, deprived of all his offices, was sent into the foreign banishment from which his uncle had just been recalled. Accordingly he retired to Holland, where he was courteously received by the States; and where Charles himself appears to have been desirous, that his darling son should find an honourable asylum. Meanwhile the factions waxed still more furious; and Shaftesbury, whose boast it was to "ride in the whirlwind and direct the storm," utterly embroiled the kingdom, by persuading Monmouth to return to England without licence from his father, and to furnish an ostensible head to that body of which the wily politician was himself the soul. This conduct deeply injured Monmouth in his father's favour, who refused to see him; and, by an enquiry and subsequent declaration made openly in council, and published in the Gazette, endeavoured to put an end to his hopes, by publicly declaring his illegitimacy. Wonderful as it may seem, this avowal was ascribed to the king's fear for his brother; and two daring pamphlets were actually published, to assert the legitimacy of Monmouth, against the express and solemn declaration of his father.[296] Monmouth himself, by various progresses through the kingdom, with an affectation of popularity which gained the vulgar but terrified the reflecting, above all, by a close alliance with the Machiavel, Shaftesbury, shewed his avowed determination to maintain his pretensions against those of the lawful successor. This was the state of parties in 1681, when "Absalom and Achitophel" first appeared.
The permission of so sharp a satire against the party of Monmouth, though much qualified as to his individual person, plainly shewed the king's intention to proceed with energy against the country party. Monmouth, in the midst of one of those splendid journies which he had made to display his strength, was arrested at Stafford, September 20, 1682, and obliged to enter bail for his peaceable deportment and appearance when called on, to answer any suit against him by the king. In the mean while, the dubious and mysterious cabal, called the Rye-house Plot, was concocted by two separate parties, moving in some degree towards the same point, but actuated by very different motives, adopting different modes of conduct, and in their mutual intrigues but slightly connected with each other. It appears certain, that Monmouth utterly abominated the proposal of Rumbold, and those who made the assassination of the King and Duke of York the groundwork of their proposed insurrection. It is equally certain, that, with Sidney and Russell, he engaged in plans of reformation, or revolution, of that dubious description, which might have turned out good or evil, according to their power of managing the machine they were about to set in motion; a power almost always over-rated till the awful moment of experiment. Upon the discovery of these proceedings, Monmouth absconded, but generously signified to Lord Russell his determination to surrender himself if it could serve his friend; an offer which Russell, with the same generosity, positively rejected.
Notwithstanding the discovery which involved perhaps a charge of high treason, the king was so much convinced of Monmouth's innocence, so far as the safety of his person was concerned, that the influence of Halifax, who always strove to balance the power of the Duke of York by that of his nephew, procured him an opportunity of being restored to the king's favour, for which the minister had little thanks from the heir of the crown.[297] But Monmouth, by an excess of imprudence, in which, however, he displayed a noble spirit, forfeited the advantages he might have obtained at this crisis. Although he signed an acknowledgment of his guilt, in listening to counsels which could not be carried into effect, without a restraint on the king's person; he would not, on reflection, authorize the publication of a declaration, which must have had a fatal influence on the impending trial of his friends. He demanded it back, and received it; but accompanied with an order to leave the kingdom. He obeyed, and remained in honourable banishment in Holland, till after the accession of James II. to the throne. There is room to believe, that Monmouth would never have disturbed his uncle, had James not evinced a desire to follow him with vengeance even into his retreat. Wellwood has published a letter from him, in which he says, ambition is mortified within him, and expresses himself determined to live in retirement. But when the King insisted on the Prince of Orange driving him out of Holland, and proceeded to take measures to exclude him from Brussels, he appears to have become desperate. Even yet he prepared to retire to Sweden, but he was surrounded by fugitives from England and Scotland, who, as is always the case, represented the nation as agitated by their passions, and feeling for their individual oppression: Argyle, in particular, and the Scottish exiles, fired by the aggressions on their liberty and religion, anticipated a more warm support than they afterwards experienced.
Monmouth, thus driven upon his fate, set sail with three ships; landed at Lyme with hardly an hundred followers; and, such was the magic of his popularity, soon found himself at the head of a considerable force. He baffled the Duke of Albemarle who attempted to coop him up at Lyme, and, advancing to Taunton took upon him fatally the title of King. At length, he surprised the Earl of Feversham, James's general, in his entrenchments near Bridgewater; and the native stubborn valour of his followers nearly proved too much for the discipline of the veterans, whom they attacked. The cowardice of Lord Grey,[298] who fled with the cavalry, led to a total defeat and much slaughter among Monmouth's forces. Still more fell a sacrifice to the bloody zeal of the brutal Jefferies. The Duke himself was taken in his flight; and, depressed by fatigue and disappointment, shewed some symptoms of weakness, inconsistent with his former character. He solicited his life by submissive letters to James, and, at length, obtained an interview with the king. But James forgot the noble, though homely popular saying,
A king's face Should give grace.
With the natural sternness of his character, he only strove to extort from Monmouth a disavowal of his legitimacy, and a confession of his accomplices. To the former the Duke submitted; but, when urged to the latter, rose from the posture of supplication, and retorted with dignity the reproaches of James. When he returned to the Tower, he wrote a letter to the king, supposed to contain a secret, the revealing of which might have purchased his life. This letter he intrusted to Captain Scott of Dumbarton's regiment, a descendant of the family of Harden, and, consequently, related to the Duchess of Monmouth. The famous Blood is said to have compelled Scott to deliver up the letter, and carried it to Sunderland, who destroyed it.[299]
The Duke of Monmouth, finding all efforts to procure a pardon ineffectual, met death with great resolution. He smiled on the guards who surrounded the scaffold, and whom in his better days he had commanded; bowed to the populace, who expressed by sighs and tears their interest in his fate; and submitted to his doom. His death was cruelly prolonged by the hesitation of the executioner, who, after several ineffectual strokes of the axe, threw it down, and could scarcely be prevailed on to finish his bloody work. The execution took place on the 15th of July, 1685.
It would be difficult, were it here necessary, to draw a character of the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth. His qualities and accomplishments were fitted for times more gentle than those in which he lived, where he might be compared to a pleasure barge struggling against a hurricane. In gentler times, he had proved a successful leader in war; and in peace, what the reviver of tragedy has aptly stiled, "An honoured courtly gentleman." _Count Basil_. Act I. Scene II.
Note IV.
_And made the charming Annabel his bride._--P. 218.
Anne, Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, a lady of high spirit, great beauty, and unimpeachable honour. We have had repeated occasion to mention her in the course of these notes. She was reckoned the richest heiress in Europe; as, upon the death of her elder sister, Anne Countess of Buccleuch, wife of Walter Earl of Tarras, she succeeded to the extensive land estate of that family. Charles made this advantageous match for his son, by the intervention of the young lady's mother, the Countess of Wemyss. The Duchess of Buccleuch was a distinguished protectress of poetical merit, and evinced her discriminating taste, by early selecting Dryden as the object of her patronage; she cultivated the friendship of the Duke of York, and established an intimacy between him and her husband, which paved the way for the advancement of the latter.[300] When by an occasional rivalry they quarrelled, and became irreconcileable enemies, she still opposed her prudence to the precipitate counsels of Monmouth's worse advisers. It is probable her influence saved his life, by determining him to make a timely confession, concerning all he knew of the Rye-house conspiracy, upon condition, it was not to be used against his friends. When he imprudently retracted that confession, her advice prevailed on him to offer a renewal of it.[301] Their last interview before the Duke's execution, is thus narrated in a MS. now before me.
"His behaviour all the time was brave and unmoved, and, even during the last conversation and farewell with his lady and children, which was the movingest scene in the world, and which no bye-standers could see without melting in tears, he did not shew the least concerndness. He declared before all the company, how averse the duchess had been to all his irregular courses, and that she had never been uneasy to him on any occasion whatsoever, but about women, and his failing of dutie to the late king. And that she knew nothing of his last designe, not having heard from himself a year before, which was his own fault, and noe unkindness in her, because she knew not how to direct her letters to him. In that, he gave her the kyndest character that could be, and begged her pardon of his many failings and offences to her, and prayed her to continue her kyndness and care to her poore children. At this expression she fell down on her knees, with her eyes full of teares, and begged him to pardon her if ever she had done any thing to offend and displease him; and embracing his knees, fell into a swoon, out of which they had much adoe to raise her up in a good while after. A little before, his children were brought to him, all crying about him; but he acquitted himself of these last adewes with much composure, shewing nothing of weakness and unmanliness." _Account of the Actions and Behaviour of the Duke of Monmouth, from the time he was taken to his Execution, in a letter, dated July 16, 1685, MS_., in the Duke of Buccleuch's library.
The Duchess of Monmouth's turn of mind, and her aversion to her husband's political intrigues, lead me to imagine, that Dryden sketched out her character under that of Marmoutiere in "the Duke of Guise;" whose expostulations with her lover apply exactly to the situation of this noble pair. If the Duke of Monmouth entertained a causeless jealousy of the intimacy of York with his lady, as the Duke of Buckingham seems to hint,[302] something like an allusion to this circumstance may be traced in the suspicions of Guise, and vindication of Marmoutiere.[303]
The Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth survived the catastrophe of her husband many years; during which she was resolute in asserting her right to be treated as a princess of the blood. She had two surviving sons by Monmouth; one of whom carried on the line of Buccleuch, and the other was created Earl of Deloraine. She was married a second time, in 1688, to Lord Cornwallis, by whom she had two surviving daughters. The Duchess died in 1732, in the eighty-first year of her life. King James made her Grace and her family a gift of all her original property, so far as forfeited by the Duke of Monmouth's condemnation.
Note V.
_And Amnon's murder, by a specious name, Was called a just revenge for injured fame._--P. 218.
There is a libel among the State Poems, relating to some obscure fray, in which the duke of Monmouth and some of his brothers appear to have been concerned. This was probably one of the youthful excesses alluded to.[304] But Amnon's murder seems to refer to the more noted assault upon sir John Coventry, which the reader may take in the words of Andrew Marvell.
"But an accident happened, which had like to have spoiled all. Sir John Coventry having moved (in the house of commons) for an imposition on the play houses, sir John Berkenhead, to excuse them, said they had been of great service to the king. Upon which, sir John Coventry desired that gentleman to explain "whether he meant the men or women players?"[305] Hereupon it is imagined, that the house adjourning from Tuesday, before, till Thursday after Christmas day, on the very Tuesday night of the adjournment, twenty-five of the duke of Monmouth's troop,[306] and some few foot, laid in wait from ten at night, till two in the morning, and as he returned from the Cock, where he supped, to his own house, they threw him down, and with a knife cut off almost all the end of his nose; but company coming, made them fearful to finish it; so they marched off. Sir Thomas Sands, lieutenant of the troop, commanded the party, and Obrian, the earl of Inchequin's son, was a principal actor. The court hereupon sometimes thought to carry it with a high hand, and question sir John for his words, and maintain the action; sometimes they flagged in their councils. However, the king commanded sir Thomas Clarges, and sir W. Pulteney, to release Wroth, and Lake, who were two of the actors, and taken. But the night before the house met, they surrendered (to) him again. The house being but sullen the next day, the court did not oppose adjourning for some days longer, till it was filled. Then the house went upon Coventry's business, and voted that they would go upon nothing else whatever, till they had passed a bill, as they did, for Sands, Obrian, Parry, and Reeves, to come in by the sixteenth of February, or else be condemned, and never to be pardoned, but by an express act of parliament, and their names therein inserted, for fear of being pardoned in some general act of grace. Farther, all such actions, for the future, on any man, felony without clergy; and who shall otherwise strike or wound any parliament man, during his attendance, or going or coming, imprisonment for a year, treble damages, and incapacity. The bill having in some few days been despatched to the lords, the house has since gone on in grand committee upon the first 800,000l. bill, but are not yet half way. But now the lords, instead of the sixteenth of February, put twenty-five days after the king's royal assent, and that registered in their journal; they disagree in several other things, but adhere in that first which is material. So that, in this week, the houses will be in danger of splitting, without much wisdom or force. For, considering that sir Thomas Sands was the very person sent to Clarges and Pulteney, that Obrian was concealed in the duke of Monmouth's lodgings, that Wroth and Lake were bailed at sessions, by order from Mr Attorney, and, that all persons and things are perfectly discovered, that act will not be passed without great consequence." Letter from Andrew Marvel, to William Romsden, in _Marvel's Works_, Vol. I. p. 413.
This aggression led to what, from the name of the sufferer, is called the Coventry act, making cutting, and maiming the person, with intent to disfigure it, felony without benefit of clergy. A satirical ballad on this subject, called the Haymarket Hectors, was written by Andrew Marvel, which may be found in his works, and, with some variations, in the third vol. of the State poems. It has very little wit, to atone for a great deal of grossness.
Note VI.
_From hence began that plot, the nation's curse; Bad in itself, but represented worse: Raised in extremes, and in extremes decried; With oaths affirmed, with dying vows denied._--P. 220.
The Papist plot, like every criminal and mysterious transaction, where accomplices alone can give evidence, is involved in much mystery. It is well known, that the zeal for making proselytes, with all its good and all its evil consequences, is deeply engrafted upon the catholic faith. There can be no doubt, from Coleman's correspondence, that there was in agitation, among the Catholics, a grand scheme to bring about the conversion of the British kingdoms to the Romish religion. Much seemed to favour this in the reign of Charles II. The king, though a latitudinarian, was believed addicted to the religion of those countries which had afforded him refuge in his adversity, and the Duke of York was an open and zealous Papist. From the letters of his secretary Coleman, it is obvious, that hopes were entertained of eradicating the great northern heresy; and the real existence of intrigues carried on with this purpose, unfortunately gave a colour to the monstrous and absurd falsehoods which the witnesses of the plot contrived to heap together. It is probable, that Oates, by whom the affair was first started, knew nothing, but by vague report and surmise, of the real designs of the Roman catholic party; since he would otherwise have accommodated his story better to their obvious interests. The catholics might gain much by the life of Charles; but a plot to assassinate him, would have been far from placing them an inch nearer their point, even supposing them to escape the odium of so horrible a crime. The Duke, it was true, was nearest in blood; but his succession to the throne, had the king been taken off by those of his sect, would have been a very difficult matter, since the very suspicion of such a catastrophe had nearly caused his exclusion. But when the faction involved the king also in the plot, which Oates positively charges upon him in his last publication, and thereby renders him an accessory before the fact to an attempt on his own life, the absurdity is fully completed. Even according to the statement of those who suppose that Charles had irritated the Roman catholics, by preferring his ease and quiet to their interest and his own religious feelings, his situation appears ludicrously distressing. For, on the one hand, he incurred the hatred of those who called themselves the Protestant party, for his obstinacy in exposing himself to be murdered by the papists; and, on the other hand, he was to be assassinated by the catholics, for not doing what, according to this supposition, he himself most wished to do. It would be far beyond our bounds, to notice the numberless gross absurdities to which Oates and the other witnesses deposed upon oath. It may appear almost incredible, in the present day, how such extravagant fictions should be successfully palmed upon the deluded public; but at that time there was not the same ready communication by the press, which now allows opportunity to canvass an extraordinary charge as soon as it is brought forward. The public at large had no means of judging of state matters, but from the bribed libellers of faction, and the haranguers in coffee-houses, who gave what colour they pleased to the public news of the day.[307] Besides, the catholics had given an handle against themselves, by their own obscure intrigues; and it was impossible to forget the desperate scheme of the Gunpowder Plot, by which they had resolved to cut off the heresy in the time of King James. The crime of the fathers was, in this case, visited on the children; for no person probably would, or could, have believed in the catholic plot of 1678, had not the same religious sect meditated something equally desperate in 1606. It is true, the gunpowder conspiracy was proved by the most unexceptionable testimony; and the plot in Charles' time rested on the oaths of a few boldfaced villains, who contradicted both themselves and each other; but still popular credulity was prepared to believe any thing charged on a sect, who had shown themselves so devoted to their religious zeal, and so little scrupulous about means to gratify it. Another main prop of the Catholic plot was the mystery in which it was involved. If inconsistencies were pointed out, or improbabilities urged, the answer was, that the discovery had not yet reached the bottom of the plot. Thus the disposition of the vulgar to believe the atrocious and the marvellous, was heightened by the stimulus of ungratified curiosity, and still impending danger. "Every new witness," says North, "that came in, made us start--now we shall come to the bottom. And so it continued from one witness to another, year after year, till at length it had no bottom but in the bottomless pit."[308] Thus, betwixt villainy and credulity, the spirits of the people were exasperated and kept afloat, till the bloodhounds of the plot, like those formerly used in pursuit of marauders, had drenched their scent, and annihilated their powers of quest in the best blood in the kingdom.
The unfortunate victims, whose lives were sworn away by Oates and his accomplices, died averring their innocence; but the infuriated people for some time gave little credit to this solemn exculpation; believing that the religion of the criminals, or at least the injunctions of their priests, imposed on them the obligation of denying, with their last breath, whatever, if confessed, could have prejudiced the catholic cause. As all high wrought frenzies are incapable of duration, that of the Roman catholic plot decayed greatly after the execution of the venerable Stafford. The decent and manly sobriety of his demeanour on the scaffold, the recollection of how much blood had been spilled, and how much more might be poured out like water, excited the late and repentant commiseration of the multitude: His protestations of innocence were answered by broken exclamations of "God bless you, my lord! we believe you." And after this last victim, the Popish plot, like a serpent which had wasted its poison, though its wreaths entangled many, and its terrors held their sway over more, did little effectual mischief. Even when long lifeless, and extinguished, this chimera, far in the succeeding reigns, continued, like the dragon slain by the Red-cross Knight, to be the object of popular fear, and the theme of credulous terrorists:
Some feared, and fled; some feared, and well it fained. One, that would wiser seem than all the rest, Warned him not touch; for yet, perhaps, remained Some lingering life within his hollow breast; Or, in his womb might lurk some hidden nest Of many dragonettes, his fruitful seed; Another said, that in his eyes did rest Yet sparkling fire, and bade thereof take heed; Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed.
Note VII.
_Some thought they God's anointed meant to slay By guns, invented since full many a day._--P. 221.
The author alludes to the wonderful project to assassinate the king by Pickering and Groves, to which Oates bore testimony. Pickering, a man in easy circumstances, and whom religious zeal alone induced to murder his sovereign, was to have 30,000 masses; and Groves, a more mercenary ruffian, was to be recompensed with a sum, which, reckoning at a shilling a mass, should be an equivalent in money. But this scheme misgave, because, according to the evidence, the conscientious and opulent Mr Pickering had furnished himself for the exploit with an old pistol, the cock whereof was too loose to hold a flint. Another time they were to come to Windsor, to execute their bloody purpose with sword and dagger; but could find no better conveyance than miserable hack horses, one of which became lame, and disconcerted the expedition. Such at least was the apology made by Oates for their not appearing, when a party were, upon his information, stationed to apprehend them.
Note VIII.
_Of these, the false Achitophel was first._--P. 222.
Anthony, Earl of Shaftesbury, one of the principal heroes of this poem, was in the Tower when it was published, and very soon after was served with a bill of indictment for high treason; which was thrown out by the grand jury, who returned a verdict of _Ignoramus_. This gave rise to our author's next poem, "The Medal," and in the notes is contained some account of his lordship's life, to which the reader is referred for further information. We have already stated, that he was the counsellor of Monmouth, and the very soul of his party. Nothing can be more exquisitely satirical than the description which Dryden has here given of this famous statesman.
Note IX.
_And all to leave what with his toil he won, To that unfeathered, two-legged thing, a son; Got while his soul did huddled notions try, And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy._--P. 222.
Anthony Ashley Cooper, second Earl of Shaftesbury, and son of the great statesman, whom Dryden has dubbed his Achitophel. The contemptuous language used towards him, is said not to have reference to his outward appearance; for the portraits which remain represent him at uncommonly handsome. Nay, so much was his personal beauty an object of his attention, that he is said to have hastened his decease by his solicitude to remove, by violent means, an excrescence which disfigured his face. But the authority, from which these circumstances are quoted, seems to admit, that he was of a very insignificant character, at least not at all distinguished by mental abilities. _Biographia Britannica_, Vol. IV. p. 266. His want of capacity was a standing joke among the Tories. In an ironical pamphlet, called "A modest Vindication of the Earl of Shaftesbury, in a letter to a friend concerning his being elected King of Poland," we have, among the list of his officers of the crown, "Prince Prettyman Perkinoski (_i.e._ Monmouth), our adopted heir, because a little wiser than our own son, and designed to be offered to the diet as our successor."
It often happens, that men are more jealous of their own, or their ancestors' reputation for talents, than for virtue. The third Earl of Shaftesbury, author of the "Characteristics," is said to have resented more deeply this occasional attack on his father's understanding, than the satire against his grandfather, in which Dryden has poured forth his whole energy. This passage is alleged to have been the occasion of his mentioning Dryden disrespectfully in several places of his works; a revenge more dishonourable to his Lordship's taste than to the object of his spleen.[309]
Note X.
_To compass this, the triple bond he broke, The pillars of the public safety shook, And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke._--P. 222.
The Earl of Shaftesbury is allowed to have been a principal adviser of the Dutch war in 1672; by which the triple alliance between England, Sweden, and Holland, the _chef d'œuvre_ of Sir William Temple's negociation, by which France and Spain were forced into the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, was for ever broken. It was he who applied to Holland the famous saying, _Delenda est Carthago_; and who, with all his wit and eloquence, furthered a closer connection with France, to the destruction of our natural ally. But when the success of the Dutch war was inferior to the expectations of this ardent statesman, when he found himself rivalled by Clifford and others in the favour of Charles, and when he perceived that the king, to preserve his quiet, would not hesitate to sacrifice an obnoxious minister, he chose to make what some of his biographers have called _a short turn_; and, by going over to the popular party, to escape the odium attached to the measures he had himself recommended.
Note XI.
_In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean; Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress, Swift of dispatch, and easy of access._--P. 223.
In 1672, the seals were given to the Earl of Shaftesbury, on the resignation of the Lord Keeper, Sir Orlando Bridgeman; and he was invested with the office of Lord High Chancellor. In the judicial part of his duty, he appears to have merited the eulogium so elegantly expressed in the text. One of his biographers uses the following strong expressions: "With what prudence and candour, honour, and integrity, he acquitted himself in that great and weighty employment, the transactions of the Court of Chancery, during the time of his chancellorship, will best testify. Justice, then, ran in an equal channel; so that the cause of the rich was not suffered to swallow up the rights of the poor, nor was the strong or cunning oppressor permitted to devour the weak or unskilful opposer: but the abused found relief suitable to their distress; and those by whom they were abused, a severe reprehension, answerable to their crimes. The mischievous consequences, which commonly arise from the delays and other practices of that court, were, by his ingenious and judicious management, very much abated, and every thing weighed and determined with such an exact judgment and equity, that it almost exceeds all possibility of belief."[310] Yet even in this high situation, Shaftesbury could not help displaying something of a temper more lively and freakish than was consistent with the gravity of his place. His dress was an odd mixture of the courtier and lawyer; being an ash-coloured gown, silver-laced, with pantaloons garnished with ribbons; nothing being black about him, save, peradventure, his hat, which North, though he saw him, cannot positively affirm to have been so.[311] Besides, he occasioned much dismay and discomfiture upon the first day of the term, which succeeded his appointment, by obliging the judges, law officers, &c. who came, as usual, to attend the great seal to Westminster-hall, to make this solemn procession on horseback, according to ancient custom. As long as the cavalcade was in the open street, this did well enough; but when they came to strait passages and interruptions, "for want of gravity in the beasts, and too much in the riders, there happened some curvetting, which made no small disorder. Judge Twisden, to his great affright, and the consternation of his grave brethren, was laid all along in the dirt; but all at length arrived safe, without loss of life or limb in the service."[312] This whimsical fancy of setting grave judges on managed horses, with hazard both of damage and ridicule, to say nothing of bodily distress and terror, is a curious trait of the mercurial Earl of Shaftesbury.
Note XII.
_And proves the king himself a Jebusite._--P. 223.
As it was pretty well understood that Charles was friendly to the Catholic religion, which indeed he had secretly embraced, no pains were spared to point out this tendency to the people, who connected with the faith of Rome all the bugbear horrors of the plot, as well as the real reasons which they had to dread its influence. Dryden probably alludes to the language held by Colledge, which was that of his party. Smith deposed against him, that, while he was carrying him to dine with one Alderman Willcox, he told him, "He was a man as true as steel, and a man that would endeavour to root out Popery.'--Says I, 'That may be easily done, if you can but prevail with the king to pass the bill against the duke of York.'--'No, no, (said he) now you are mistaken, for Rowley is as great a papist as the duke of York is, (now he called the king, Rowley,) and every way as dangerous to the Protestant interest, as is too apparent by his arbitrary ruling."--_State Trials_, Vol. iii. p. 359.
Note XIII.
_And nobler is a limited command, Given by the love of all your native land, Than a successive title, long and dark, Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark._--P. 226.
The legitimacy of the duke of Monmouth, though boldly and repeatedly asserted by his immediate partizans, did not receive general credit even in the popular faction. It was one of Shaftesbury's principal advantages, to have chosen, for the ostensible head of his party, a candidate, whose right, had he ever attained the crown, must have fluctuated betwixt an elective and hereditary title. The consciousness of how much he was to depend upon Shaftesbury's arts, for stating and supporting so dubious a claim, obliged the duke to remain at the devotion of that intriguing politician. It seems to have been shrewdly suspected by some of Monmouth's friends, that Shaftesbury had no real intention of serving his interest. A poem, written by one of Monmouth's followers, called "Judah Betrayed, or the Egyptian Plot turned on the Israelites," expresses their fears, and very plainly intimates this suspicion: and the reader may bear with some bad poetry, to be convinced how far this faction was from being firmly united together:
For depth in politics, and statesman's brain, Draw Hushai[313] next, attended by a train Of peevish votaries, heart-sick with pride, Too numerous for an apostate guide; The odious name of patriot he does own, And prophecies the downfall of a throne: Forms in his aged fancy, robbed of health, The strange ideas of a Commonwealth, Then gains the proselyte dissenting Jews, And arguments from liberty does use: So treason veiled for liberty may go, And traitors' heads like royalists may show. All Judah's people had united been, Had not he interposed, and stept between; David in's subjects love had held his reign, Had not he cut the fastening bond in twain, And fatal discord sown in sanhedrin, The much lamented hasty Judah's sin. When either faction does produce their right To succession, they tacitly do slight The present king, and silent reasons bring That he is not, or should not be, a king.-- We need not care; for heaven ne'er will own Egyptian heir on Israelitish throne; Nor will it ere auspiciously defend Hushai, that only strives for's private end. He wheedles Absalon with hopes of king, And glistering toys of crowns does 'fore him fling; Thus does he sooth to overthrow a crown, And Absalon's the tool to beat it down; And easy Absalon, by gentleness drawn, (Though he has courage paralleled by none,) The loss of crowns to come he now does dread, Can heaven place them on a nobler head? So great a soul as his 'twill never own Should rule on any thing beneath a throne; Or ere see Judah plagued or robbed of health, By that unbounded thing a Commonwealth.
Note XIV.
_The next successor, whom I fear and hate, My arts have made obnoxious to the State; Turned all his virtues to his overthrow, And gained our elders to pronounce a foe._--P. 229.
In 1679, when the antipathy to popery had taken the deepest root in men's minds, the House of Commons passed a vote, "That the Duke of York's being a papist, and the hopes of his coming to the crown, had given the highest countenance to the present conspiracies and designs of the papists, against the king and the protestant religion." Charles endeavoured to parry the obvious consequences of this vote, by proposing to the council a set of limitations, which deprived his successor, if a catholic, of the chief branches of royalty. Shaftesbury, then president of the council, argued against this plan as totally ineffectual; urging, that when the future king should find a parliament to his mind, the limitations might be as effectually taken off as they could be imposed. When the bill was brought in, for the total exclusion of the Duke of York from the succession, Shaftesbury favoured it with all his influence. It passed the Lower House by a very large majority, but was rejected by the House of Lords, where Halifax opposed it with very great ability. Shaftesbury, who had taken so decided a part against the Duke of York in his dearest interests, was now irreconcilable with him, and could only look for safety in his ruin.
Note XV.
_'Till time shall ever-wanting David draw, To pass your doubtful title into law: If not, the people have a right supreme To make their kings; for kings are made for them._--P. 229.
If we can believe the honourable Roger North, Lord Shaftesbury made a fair experiment, for the purpose of ascertaining whether Charles's love of ease and affection for Monmouth would induce him to consent to an alteration of the succession in his favour, to the prejudice of the Duke of York. He quotes a pamphlet, called, "The Earl of Shaftesbury's expedient to settle the nation, discoursed with his Majesty at Oxford, 24 March, 1681," which gives the following account of the transaction; and, as it was published at the time, and remained uncontradicted, either by Shaftesbury, or the king, probably contains some essential truth. The Earl of Shaftesbury having received, or pretended to receive, an unsigned letter, in a disguised hand, bustled away to court, "as hard," says the pamphleteer, "as legs, stick, and man could carry him." When he arrived there, the Lord Chamberlain conceiving the Duke of Monmouth might be in the secret, applied to him to know what the great concern was. His grace answered, with an appearance of hesitation, that it was something relating to himself, in which, as in other affairs of his, Lord Shaftesbury took a deeper concern than he desired. Meanwhile. Shaftesbury was introduced to the audience he solicited with the king, and produced the letter, containing, as he said, a plan for settling the interests of religion and state, which proved to be a proposal for calling the Duke of Monmouth to the succession. The king answered, he was surprized such a plan should be pressed upon him, after all the declarations he had made on the subject, and that, far from being more timorous, he became more resolute the nearer he approached his grave. Shaftesbury expressing great horror at such an expression, the king assured him he was no less anxious for his own preservation, than those who pretended to so much concern for the security of his person; and yet, that he would rather lay down his life than alter the true succession of the crown, against both law and conscience. For that, said the earl, let us alone; we will make a law for it. To which the king replied, that, if such was his lordship's conscience, it was not his; and that he did not think even his life of sufficient value to be preserved with the forfeiture of his honour, and essential injury to the laws of the land.--_North's Examen_, p. 100. 123.
Note XVI.
_Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise, Already looks on you with jealous eyes._--P. 230.
Before James went to Flanders, he had testified a jealousy of Monmouth. "The Duke of York, before he went abroad," says Carte, "was concerned to see that the king could observe his frequent whispers at court to the Lord Shaftesbury, without being moved or expressing his dislike of it, but was much more alarmed at hearing of their frequent and clandestine meetings, without any apparent dissatisfaction expressed by his Majesty." p. 493. vol. II.
Note XVII.
_The Solymæan rout---- ---- Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun, And scorned by Jebusites to be outdone._--P. 232.
The royalists recriminated upon the popular party, the charge of plots and machinations against the government. There is no doubt that every engine was put in motion, to secure the mob of London, "the Solymean rout" of Dryden, to Shaftesbury's party. Every one has heard of the 30,000 brisk boys, who were ready to follow the wagging of his finger. The plots, and sham-plots, charged by the parties against each other, form a dismal picture of the depravity of the times. Settle thus ridicules the idea of the protestant, or fanatical plot for seizing the king at Oxford.
This hellish Ethnick plot the court alarms; The traytors, seventy thousand strong, in arms, Near Endor town lay ready at a call, And garrisoned in airy castles all: These warriors, on a sort of coursers rid, Ne'er lodged in stables, or by man bestrid. What though the steel, with which the rebels fought, No forge ere felt, or anvil ever wrought; Yet this magnetick plot for black designs, Can raise cold iron from the very mines; To this, were twenty under plots contrived By malice, and by ignorance believed; Till shams met shams, and plots with plots so crost, That the true plot amongst the false was lost. _Absalom Senior._
Note XVIII.
_In the first rank of these did Zimri stand; A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome._--P. 233.
This inimitable description refers, as is well known, to the famous George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, son of the favourite of Charles I., who was murdered by Felton. The Restoration put into the hands of the most lively, mercurial, ambitious, and licentious genius, who ever lived, an estate of 20,000l a-year, to be squandered in every wild scheme which the lust of power, of pleasure, of licence, or of whim, could dictate to an unrestrained imagination. Being refused the situation of President of the North, he was suspected of having favoured the disaffected in that part of England, and was disgraced accordingly. But, in 1666, he regained the favour of the king, and became a member of the famous administration called the Cabal, which first led Charles into unpopular and arbitrary measures, and laid the foundation for the troubles of his future reign. Buckingham changed sides about 1675, and, becoming attached to the country party, made a most active figure in all proceedings which had relation to the Popish plot; intrigued deeply with Shaftesbury, and distinguished himself as a promoter of the bill of exclusion. Hence, he stood an eminent mark for Dryden's satire; which, we may believe, was not the less poignant, that the poet had sustained a personal affront, from being depicted by his grace under the character of Bayes in the Rehearsal. As Dryden owed the Duke no favour, he has shewn him none. Yet, even here, the ridiculous, rather than the infamous part of his character, is touched upon; and the unprincipled libertine, who slew the Earl of Shrewsbury while his adulterous countess held his horse in the disguise of a page, and who boasted of caressing her before he changed the bloody cloaths in which he had murdered her husband,[314] is not exposed to hatred, while the spendthrift and castle-builder are held up to contempt. So just, however, is the picture drawn by Dryden, that it differs little from the following sober historical character.
"The Duke of Buckingham was a man of great parts, and an infinite deal of wit and humour; but wanted judgement, and had no virtue, or principle of any kind. These essential defects made his whole life one continued train of inconsistencies. He was ambitious beyond measure, and implacable in his resentments; these qualities were the effects, or different faces of his pride; which, whenever he pleased to lay aside, no man living could be more entertaining in conversation. He had a wonderful talent in turning all things into ridicule; but, by his own conduct, made a more ridiculous figure in the world, than any other he could, with all his vivacity of wit, and turn of imagination, draw of others. Frolick and pleasure took up the greatest part of his life; and in these he neither had any taste, nor set himself any bounds; running into the wildest extravagancies, and pushing his debaucheries to a height, which even a libertine age could not help censuring as downright madness. He inherited the best estate which any subject had at that time in England; yet, his profuseness made him always necessitous; as that necessity made him grasp at every thing that would help to support his expences. He was lavish without generosity, and proud without magnanimity; and, though he did not want some bright talents, yet, no good one ever made part of his composition; for there was nothing so mean that he would not stoop to, nor any thing so flagrantly impious, but he was capable of undertaking."[315]
A patron like Buckingham, who piqued himself on his knowledge of literature, and had the means, if not the inclination, to be liberal, was not likely to want champions, such as they were, to repel the sharp attack of Dryden. Elkanah Settle compliments him with the following lines in his "Absalom Senior," some of which are really tolerable.
But who can Amiel's charming wit withstand, The great state-pillar of the muses' land; For lawless and ungoverned had the age The nine wild sisters seen run mad with rage; Debauched to savages, till his keen pen Brought their long banished reason back again; Driven by his satyrs into reason's fence, And lashed the idle rovers into sense.
* * * * *
Amiel, whose generous gallantry, while fame Shall have a tongue, shall never want a name; Who, whilst his pomp his lavish gold consumes, Moulted his wings to lend a throne his plumes; Whilst an ungrateful court he did attend, Too poor to pay, what it had pride to spend.
Another poet, at a period when interest could little sway his panegyrick, has apologized for the versatility and extravagance of the then deceased Duke of Buckingham:
What though black envy, with her ran'crous tongue, And angry poets in embittered song, While to new tracks thy boundless soul aspires, Charge thee with roving change, and wandring fires? Envy more base did never virtue wrong: Thy wit, a torrent for the bank too strong, In twenty smaller rills o'erflowed the dam, Though the main channel still was Buckingham.[316]
Buckingham himself, smarting under the severity of Dryden's satire, strove to answer it in kind. He engaged in this work with more zeal and anger, than wit or prudence. It is one thing to write a farce, and another to support such a controversy with such an author. The Duke's pamphlet, however, sold at a high price, and had a celebrity, which is certainly rather to be imputed to the rank and reputation of the author, than to the merit of the performance. As it is the work of such an applauded wit, is exceedingly scarce, and relates entirely to the poem which I am illustrating, I shall here insert the introduction, and some extracts from the piece itself.
It is entitled "Poetic Reflections on a late Poem, entituled, Absalom and Achitophel, by a Person of Honour. London, printed for Richard Janeway, 1682. (14 December.)"
To the Reader.--"To epitomize which scandalous pamphlet, unworthy the denomination of poesy, no eye can inspect it without a prodigious amazement, the abuses being so gross and deliberate, that it seems rather a capital or national libel, than personal exposures, in order to an infamous detraction. For how does he character the King, but as a broad figure of scandalous inclinations, or contrived into such irregularities, as renders him rather the property of parasites and vice, than suitable to the accomplishment of so excellent a prince. Nay, he forces on king David such a royal resemblance, that he darkens his sanctity, in spite of illuminations from holy writ.
"Next, to take as near our king as he could, he calumniates the Duke of Monmouth, with that height of impudence, that his sense is far blacker than his ink, exposing him to all the censures that a murderer, a traitor, or what a subject of most ambitious evil can possibly comprehend.
"As to my Lord Shaftesbury, in his collusive Achitophel, what does he other than exceed malice itself, or that the more prudent deserts of that Peer were to be so impeached before hand by his impious poem, as that he might be granted more emphatically condign of the hangman's axe, and which his muse does in effect take upon her to hasten.
"And if the season be well observed when this adulterate poem was spread, it will be found purposely divulged near the time when this lord, with his other noble partner, were to be brought to their trial; and, I suppose this poet thought himself enough assured of their condemnation, at least that his genius had not otherwise ventured to have trampled on persons of such eminent abilities and interest in the nation; a consideration, I confess, incited my pen, its preceding respect being paid to the duke of Monmouth, to vindicate their reputations where I thought it due.
When late Protector-ship was cannon proof, And, cap-a-pe, had seized on Whitehall roof; And next on Israelites durst look so big, That, Tory-like, it loved not much the Whig; A poet there starts up of wondrous fame, Whether Scribe, or Pharisee, his race doth name, Or more to intrigue the metaphor of man, Got on a muse by father Publican;[317] For 'tis not harder much if we tax nature, That lines should give a poet such a feature, Than that his verse a hero should us show,[318] Produced by such a feat, as famous too; His mingle such, what man presumes to think, But he can figures daub with pen and ink. A grace our mighty Nimrod late beheld, When he within the royal palace dwelled; And saw 'twas of import, if lines could bring His greatness from usurper to be king;[319] Or varnish so his praise, that little odds Should seem 'twixt him and such called earthly gods; And though no wit can royal blood infuse, No more than melt a mother to a muse, Yet much a certain poet undertook, That men and manners deals in without book, And might not more to gospel truth belong, Than he if christened does by name of John.
* * * * *
Fame's impious hireling, and mean reward, The knave that in his lines turns up his card; Who, though no Raby thought in Hebrew writ, He forced allusions that can closely fit; To Jews, or English, much unknown before, He made a talmud on his muses score; Though hoped few critics will its genius carp, So purely metaphors king David's harp; And, by a soft encomium, near at hand, Shews Bathsheba embraced throughout the land.
After much unintelligible panegyric on Shaftesbury, his Grace comes to Seymour:[320]
For Amiel, Amiel, who cannot endite, Of his then value wont disdain to write; The very _him_, with gown and mace did rule The Sanhedrim, when guided by a fool; The _him_ that did both sense and reason shift. That he to gainful place himself might lift; The very _him_, that did adjust the seed Of such as did their votes for money breed; The mighty _him_, that frothy notions vents, In hope to turn them into presidents; The _him_ of _hims_, although in judgment small, That fain would be the biggest at Whitehall; The _he_, that does for justice coin postpone, As on account may be hereafter shown.
The noble author, with what cause the reader is now enabled to determine, piqued himself especially upon the satirical vigour of these last verses. "As to the character of Amiel, I confess my lines are something pointed: the one reason being, that it alludes much to a manner of expression of this writer's, as may be seen by the marginal notes; and a second will soon be allowed. The figure of Amiel has been so squeezed into paint, that his soul is seen in spite of the varnish." As these verses were written on an occasion, when personal indignation must have fired his Grace's wit, they incline us to believe, with Mr Malone, that his friends, Clifford and Sprat, had the greatest share in the lively farce of "The Rehearsal."
Buckingham's death was as awful a beacon as his life. He had dissipated a princely fortune, and lost both the means of procuring, and the power of enjoying, the pleasures to which he was devoted. He had fallen from the highest pinnacle of ambition, into the last degree of contempt and disregard. His dying scene, in a paltry inn in Yorkshire, has been immortalized by Pope's beautiful lines:
In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, The floors of plaister, and the walls of dung; On once a flock-bed, but repaired with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed, Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies! alas, how changed from him! That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim; Gallant and gay, in Cliefden's proud alcove, The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love; Or just as gay at council, in a ring Of mimicked statesmen, and a merry king; No wit to flatter left of all his store, No fool to laugh at, which he valued more; There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends!
Note XIX.
_------Balaam._--P. 234.
The Earl of Huntington. A coarse reason is given by Luttrel in his MS. notes, for the epithet by which he is distinguished in the text.[321] He was one of the seventeen peers who signed a petition, beseeching Charles to have recourse to the advice of his parliament; and he himself presented it at Whitehall, on the 7th of December, 1679, in the name of the other lords subscribing. This advice was received very coldly by the king, who answered, "That he would consider of what they had offered, and could heartily wish, that all other people were as solicitous for the peace and good of the nation, as he would ever be." The Earl of Huntington also subscribed the petition and advice, presented by fifteen peers to the king, against removing the parliament to Oxford; where they stated, "Neither Lords nor Commons can be in safety, but will be daily exposed to t