[14] "I have taken some pains to make it my masterpiece in English."
Preface to Second Miscellany. Fox said that it "was better than the original." J.C. Scaliger said of Erasmus: "Ex alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo versificator."
[15] In one of the last letters he ever wrote, thanking his cousin Mrs. Steward for a gift of marrow-puddings, he says: "A chine of honest bacon would please my appet.i.te more than all the marrow-puddings; for I like them better plain, having a very vulgar stomach." So of Cowley he says: "There was plenty enough, but ill sorted, whole pyramids of sweetmeats for boys and women, but little of solid meat for men." The physical is a truer ant.i.type of the spiritual man than we are willing to admit, and the brain is often forced to acknowledge the inconvenient country-cousinship of the stomach.
[16] In his preface to "All for Love," he says, evidently alluding to himself: "If he have a friend whose hastiness in writing is his greatest fault, Horace would have taught him to have minced the matter, and to have called it readiness of thought and a flowing fancy." And in the Preface to the Fables he says of Homer: "This vehemence of his, I confess, is more suitable to my temper." He makes other allusions to it.
[17] Preface to the Fables.
[18] _Wool_ is Sylvester"s word. Dryden reminds us of Burke in this also, that he always quotes from memory and seldom exactly. His memory was better for things than for words. This helps to explain the length of time it took him to master that vocabulary at last so various, full, and seemingly extemporaneous. He is a large quoter, though, with his usual inconsistency, he says, "I am no admirer of quotations." (Essay on Heroic Plays.)
[19] In the _Epimetheus_ of a poet usually as elegant as Gray himself, one"s finer sense is a little jarred by the
"Spectral gleam their snow-white _dresses_."
[20] This probably suggested to Young the grandiose image in his "Last Day" (B. ii.):--
"Those overwhelming armies....
Whose rear lay wrapt in night, while breaking dawn Roused the broad front and called the battle on."
This, to be sure, is no plagiarism; but it should be carried to Dryden"s credit that we catch the poets of the next half-century oftener with their hands in his pockets than in those of any one else.
[21] Essay on Satire.
[22] Ibid.
[23] Preface to Fables. Men are always inclined to revenge themselves on their old idols in the first enthusiasm of conversion to a purer faith. Cowley had all the faults that Dryden loads him with, and yet his popularity was to some extent deserved. He at least had a theory that poetry should soar, not creep, and longed for some expedient, in the failure of natural wings, by which he could lift himself away from the conventional and commonplace. By beating out the substance of Pindar very thin, he contrived a kind of balloon which, tumid with gas, did certainly mount a little, _into_ the clouds, if not above them, though sure to come suddenly down with a b.u.mp. His odes, indeed, are an alternation of upward jerks and concussions, and smack more of Chapelain than of the Theban, but his prose is very agreeable,--Montaigne and water, perhaps, but with some flavor of the Gascon wine left. The strophe of his ode to Dr. Scarborough, in which he compares his surgical friend, operating for the stone, to Moses striking the rock, more than justifies all the ill that Dryden could lay at his door. It was into precisely such mud-holes that Cowley"s Will-o"-the-Wisp had misguided him. Men may never wholly shake off a vice but they are always conscious of it, and hate the tempter.
[24] Dedication of Georgics.
[25] In a letter to Dennis, 1693.
[26] Preface to Fables.
[27] More than half a century later, Orrery, in his "Remarks" on Swift, says: "We speak and we write at random; and if a man"s common conversation were committed to paper, he would be startled _for_ _to_ find himself guilty in _so few_ sentences of so many solecisms and such false English." I do not remember _for to_ anywhere in Dryden"s prose. _So few_ has long been denizened; no wonder, since it is nothing more than _si peu_ Anglicized.
[28] Letter to the Lord High Treasurer.
[29] Ibid. He complains of "manglings and abbreviations." "What does your Lordship think of the words drudg"d, disturb"d, rebuk"d, fledg"d, and a thousand others?" In a contribution to the "Tatler"
(No. 230) he ridicules the use of _"um_ for _them_, and a number of slang Footnote: phrases, among which is _mob_. "The war," he says, "has introduced abundance of polysyllables, which will never be able to live many more campaigns." _Speculations, operations, preliminaries, amba.s.sadors, pallisadoes, communication, circ.u.mvallation, battalions_, are the instances he gives, and all are now familiar. No man, or body of men, can dam the stream of language.
Dryden is rather fond of _"em_ for _them_, but uses it rarely in his prose. Swift himself prefers _"tis_ to _it is_, as does Emerson still. In what Swift says of the poets, he may be fairly suspected of glancing at Dryden, who was his kinsman, and whose prefaces and translation of Virgil he ridicules in the "Tale of a Tub." Dryden is reported to have said of him, "Cousin Swift is no poet." The Dean began his literary career by Pindaric odes to Athenian Societies and the like,--perhaps the greatest mistake as to his own powers of which an author was ever guilty. It was very likely that he would send these to his relative, already distinguished, for his opinion upon them. If this was so, the justice of Dryden"s judgment must have added to the smart. Swift never forgot or forgave: Dryden was careless enough to do the one, and large enough to do the other.
[30] Both Malone and Scott accept this gentleman"s evidence without question, but I confess suspicion of a memory that runs back more than eighty-one years, and recollects a man before he had any claim to remembrance. Dryden was never poor, and there is at Oxford a portrait of him painted in 1664, which represents him in a superb periwig and laced band. This was "before he had paid his court with success to the great." But the story is at least _ben trovato_, and morally true enough to serve as an ill.u.s.tration. Who the "old gentleman" was has never been discovered. Of Crowne (who has some interest for us as a sometime student at Harvard) he says: "Many a cup of metheglm have I drank with little starch"d Johnny Crown; we called him so, from the stiff, unalterable primness of his long cravat." Crowne reflects no more credit on his Alma Mater than Downing. Both were sneaks, and of such a kind as, I think, can only be produced by a debauched Puritanism. Crowne, as a rival of Dryden, is contemptuously alluded to by Cibber in his "Apology."
[31] Diary, III. 390. Almost the only notices of Dryden that make him alive to me I have found in the delicious book of this Polonius-Montaigne, the only man who ever had the courage to keep a sincere journal, even under the shelter of cipher.
[32] Tale of a Tub, Sect. V. Pepys also speaks of buying the "Maiden Queen" of Mr. Dryden"s, which he himself, in his preface, seems to brag of, and indeed is a good play.--18th January, 1668.
[33] He is fond of this image. In the "Maiden Queen" Celadon tells Sabina that, when he is with her rival Florimel, his heart is still her prisoner, "it only draws a longer chain after it." Goldsmith"s fancy was taken by it; and everybody admires in the "Traveller" the extraordinary conceit of a heart dragging a lengthening chain. The smoothness of too many rhymed pentameters is that of thin ice over shallow water; so long as we glide along rapidly, all is well; but if we dwell a moment on any one spot, we may find ourselves knee-deep in mud. A later poet, in trying to improve on Goldsmith, shows the ludicrousness of the image:--
"And round my heart"s leg ties its galling chain."
To write imaginatively a man should have--imagination!
[34] See his epistle dedicatory to the "Rival Ladies" (1664). For the other side, see particularly a pa.s.sage in his "Discourse on Epic Poetry" (1697).
[35] In the same way he had two years before a.s.sumed that Shakespeare "was the first who, to shun the pains of continued rhyming, invented that kind of writing which we call blank verse!" Dryden was never, I suspect, a very careful student of English literature. He seems never to have known that Surrey translated a part of the "Aeneid" (and with great spirit) into blank verse. Indeed, he was not a scholar, in the proper sense of the word, but he had that faculty of rapid a.s.similation without study, so remarkable in Coleridge and other rich minds, whose office is rather to impregnate than to invent. These brokers of thought perform a great office in literature, second only to that of originators.
[36] Essay on Satire. What he has said just before this about Butler is worth noting. Butler had had a chief hand in the "Rehearsal," but Dryden had no grudges where the question was of giving its just praise to merit.
[37] The conclusion of the second canto of Book Third is the best continuously fine pa.s.sage. Dryden"s poem has nowhere so much meaning in so small s.p.a.ce as Davenant, when he says of the sense of honor that,
"Like Power, it grows to nothing, growing less."
Davenant took the hint of the stanza from Sir John Davies. Wyatt first used it, so far as I know, in English.
[38] Perhaps there is no better lecture on the prevailing vices of style and thought (if thought this frothy ferment of the mind may be called) than in Cotton Mather"s "Magnalia." For Mather, like a true provincial, appropriates only the mannerism, and, as is usual in such cases, betrays all its weakness by the unconscious parody of exaggeration.
[39] The Doctor was a capital judge of the substantial value of the goods he handled, but his judgment always seems that of the thumb and forefinger. For the shades, the disposition of colors, the beauty of the figures, he has as good as no sense whatever. The critical parts of his Life of Dryden seem to me the best of his writing in this kind. There is little to be gleaned after him. He had studied his author, which he seldom did, and his criticism is sympathetic, a thing still rarer with him. As ill.u.s.trative of his own habits, his remarks on Dryden"s reading are curious.
[40] Perhaps the hint was given by a phrase of Corneille, _monarque en peinture_. Dryden seldom borrows, unless from Shakespeare, without improving, and he borrowed a great deal. Thus in "Don Sebastian" of suicide:--
"Brutus and Cato might discharge their souls, And give them furloughs for the other world; But we, like sentries, are obliged to stand In starless nights and wait the appointed hour."