Poems (1686) Part 1

Poems (1686).

by Anne Killigrew.

INTRODUCTION

Condemnation by a great poet has lasting impact, while the effects of praise seldom endure; Shadwell remains MacFlecknoe in our minds, Shaftesbury Achitophel, but Anne Killigrew, "A _Grace_ for Beauty, and a _Muse_ for Wit," is virtually forgotten. Her book of verses is known essentially because of John Dryden's commendatory Ode. Yet we may justify a study of her own poems. Dryden's piece is not a generalised encomium; obviously he had read her verses, and his a.n.a.lysis of her art is firmly based. Our understanding of this famous poem, then, depends to some degree on our knowledge of Anne Killigrew's output.[1] Her verses deserve attention on their own merits--Dryden may well be thought more gallant than scrupulous, but undeniably the poems have an appealing wit, a picturesque imagination and a touching personal candour.

The facts of Anne Killigrew's short life are succinctly and elegantly related by Anthony Wood.[2] She was born about 1660, the daughter of Dr. Henry Killigrew, Royalist, theologian and sometime dramatist, and related through his family to the other theatrical Killigrews--Thomas, the author of _The Parson's Wedding_, and Sir William, her uncles; and Thomas, the author of _Chit-Chat_, and Charles, Master of the Revels, her cousins. Dr. Killigrew became Chaplain to the Duke of York and in 1663 Master of the Savoy. Anne Killigrew grew up to join the household of the doleful Mary of Modena, d.u.c.h.ess of York, as Maid of Honour. A companion in this office was Anne Finch, Countess of Winchelsea.

Mistress Killigrew's poems reflect some of the sparkle of Restoration court life, but more of the sorrow produced by Mary of Modena's consistent unpopularity. After a short battle with the smallpox, Anne Killigrew died on 16 June, 1685, to the "unspeakable Reluctancy" of her many loving relations and friends.

[1] The most recent study of Dryden's poem is David M. Vieth's "Irony in Dryden's Ode to Anne Killigrew," _Studies in Philology_, LXII (January, 1965), pp. 91-100, which lists earlier criticism. Professor Vieth refers to Anne Killigrew's poems several times to ill.u.s.trate his theory of Dryden's intentions.

[2] Anthony Wood, _Athenae Oxonienses_ (1721), c. 1036. Biographical and critical comment is also to be found in George Ballard, _Memoirs of Several Ladies_ (1752), pp. 337-45; T. Cibber, _Lives of the Poets_ (1753), II, 224-6; Ellen Creathorne Clayton, _English Female Artists_ (1876), I, 59-70 and _The Poems of Anne Countess of Winchelsea_, edited by Myra Reynolds (1903), pp. xxiii-xxiv.

After her untimely death, Dr. Killigrew worked to produce a memorial edition of her papers, and invited Dryden to write the prefatory poem.

The publication was swift: less than three months after her death the volume was licensed to be printed (30 September, 1685) and listed in the Stationers' Register (2 October). It was listed in the Term Catalogue for November, and advertised in _The Observator_ on 2 November, 1685.[3] The date of 1686 on the t.i.tle page must have been antic.i.p.ated by actual publication.

[3] A bibliographical a.n.a.lysis of the volume is given by Hugh Macdonald, _John Dryden a Bibliography_ (1939), pp. 42-43.

The poetry in the volume can be described in Dryden's terms:

Art she had none, yet wanted none: For Nature did that Want supply.

Anne Killigrew lacked the artistry which comes from discipline and practice (which Anne Finch had time to develop), but she felt that the prompting of pa.s.sion outweighed the niceties of form:

Here take no Care, take here no Care, my _Muse_, Nor ought of Art or Labour use....

The ruggeder my Measures run when read, They'l livelier paint th' unequal Paths fond Mortals tread, (p. 51)

Her verses belong to the generalising conventions of strong-minded Denham and limpid Waller:

Such n.o.ble Vigour did her Verse adorn, That it seem'd borrow'd.

Yet to judge from her lively objections (pp. 44-47), the attempt to cla.s.s her as a plagiarist was unjustified. Court poetry in the age was so uniform that apparent echoes are a matter of course. We may compare her

The b.l.o.o.d.y Wolf, the Wolf does not pursue; The Boar, though fierce, his Tusk will not embrue In his own Kind, Bares, not on Bares do prey: Then art thou, Man, more savage far than they, (p. 37)

with Rochester's _Satyr against Mankind_:

_Birds_, feed on _Birds_, _Beasts_, on each other prey, But Savage _Man_ alone, does _Man_ betray,

or Waller on the death of Lady Rich, "But savage beasts, or men as wild as they!" Anne Killigrew's use of stock epithets and polite locutions mark a conventionality which inevitably borders on the derivative. But at her best, as for example "On the Birth-Day of Queen _Katherine_," p.

47, she is able to move effectively beyond the conventional. The conflict between the formal occasion and the dismal weather becomes a surprising symbol of paradox, and the dream and scriptural consolation come to have an intensity more metaphysical than courtly. Similarly, in the unfinished "Ode," p. 82, or in parts of the "Pastoral Dialogue,"

p. 63, she produces some forceful and startling images.

The individuality of her works lies in their firm, evangelical moral tone, which is clearly distinguishable from the genteel piety of her contemporaries. Dryden's comment:

So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest, 'Twas _Cupid_ bathing in _Diana's_ Stream,

is an apt description of, say, her "Pastoral Dialogue," pp. 63-75. Anne Killigrew's interest in poetic theory is notable; her early "Alexandreis" prays for the "frozen style" to be warmed with a "Poetique fire," and her "Love, the Soul of Poetry," contrasts the flatness of commonplace verse with the rapture and heat produced by a subject which "Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse." The poem "To My Lord Colrane" meditates on her slothful muse and its awakening of life. Throughout her writings she keeps the poet's didactic end in view and has a high regard for the nature of her art. Something of the severity of the York household is reflected in the writings of the Maid of Honour.

The present text is reproduced, by kind permission, from the beautiful copy in the Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. This volume, originally in Dr. Philip Bliss's collection, is listed in the _Huth Catalogue_ (1913), p. 1207, and described by W. C. Hazlitt, _Second Series of Bibliographical Collections and Notes_ (1882), p. 328. It contains on the flyleaf a MS poem by E. E., transcribed below. The Rev.

Joseph Hunter, British Museum Add. MSS. 24492, Vol. VI, p. 100, suggests that E. E. was Edmund Elys,[4] the learned and contentious author of occasional poems (_Verses on Several Occasions_, 1699) and theological pamphlets (for example, _Epistola ad Sam. Parkerum S.T.P._, 1680). The generally vivacious style of the verse and the reference to the debate with Dr. Parker suggest that the identification is just, but the relationship between Mrs. Elys and the Killigrews is not known.

Pages 72 and 73 are skipped, and pages 68 and 69 are misnumbered 60 and 61.

[4] On Elys's life see Anthony Wood, _Athenae Oxonienses_ (1721), c.

943-44.

The self-portrait of Anne Killigrew prefixed to the _Poems_ and printed herein as the frontispiece shows that she was a competent if conventional artist. Her descriptions of her paintings, pp. 27-29, suggest that here too moral and scriptural topics predominated over courtly affairs. E. E., Dryden and the writer of the Epitaph agree on Anne Killigrew's sanct.i.ty and gravity of mind. The modern reader may gain from her book of verse a moving insight into the thoughts and preoccupations of a young lady at court in the declining years of the Stuarts.

RICHARD MORTON

_McMaster University Hamilton, Ontario November 28, 1965_

On the Death of The Truly Virtuous

Mrs. Anne Killigrew

who was Related to my (Deceased) Wife.

I cannot Mourn thy Fate, Sweet Mayd, but Joy That Thou art gone from all this Worlds Annoy, From th' hurry of this cursed Age, that draws Heav'ns Vengeance down by th' breach of all the Laws.

Of G.o.d, & Man: ther's nothing here but Noise And Interruption of True Peacefull Joyes.

That which they Pleasure call is _Sport_ for _Apes_ Which turns the _Phansie_ to a thousand _Shapes_ And Wrests the _Mind_ from that _Celestial Sphear_ To which Its _Nature_ ever would adhere That by a _Constant Revolution_ Its Rest & Motion ever might be ONE That which my Mind hath ever Sought, thy Mind Tho Compast with these walls of Clay did Find: Pure _Quintessential Love, Aethereal Flame_, Which Always shines, & Alwayes is the Same: Here's no faint trembling Flame: all Bright appears 'Tis ne're blown out with Sighs, nor quencht with tears.

Thy Soul Enflames my Love: the Unitie I had with Her, who was Allie'd to Thee Is Now made Perfect: Our Souls Mutual Flame Tho Higher in _Degree_ in _Nature's_ still the same.

Her, Thee, & All the Glorious Souls Above I Now Enioy, whilst in You All I Love The Boundless Spring of Joy to Ev'ry Mind That knowes what's _Truly Fair_ & Knowes what's _Truly Kind_.

How have I Labour'd to Depress the Pride Of one [Dr. Parker] that strives Ill.u.s.trious Truth to Hide In the Thick Bushes of Learn'd Sophistrie, Which he that Enters hardly sees the Skie?

Truth that thy Splendid Soul did clearly see And of it made a plain Discoverie.

And having Conquer'd Fate, Thou leavst those Arms [Her Poems]

By which Mankind may Conquer All their Harms And make them Serve their n.o.ble Purposes.

All Good to Gain, All Evil to Repress.

How Bravely did thy _Melibaeus_ shew The Madness of that Love most men pursue And how Youth may their strongest l.u.s.ts subdue!

O Happy Mayd, who didst so soon Espie In This _Dark Life, that All is Vanitie_!

May thy Bright Love, All Youthfull Minds Inspire, And like the SUN, put out all _other Fire_; May all the Virtuous Celebrate thy Name; All Poets Hearts Partake of thy Great Flame That all their Ardors & their Flights may be The Flames that Fly up to the _Deitie_; That DAVID's Muse they all may Imitate, Sing Virtues Triumphs ore the Power of Fate: That all their Works Resembling Hea'vn may prove The Blest Effects of Glory, Power, & Love.

E. E. 1685.

POEMS

BY Mrs Anne Killigrew.