The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) Volume III Part 9

The Grumbler, a Comedy of three acts, scene Paris.

The Tyrant King of Crete, a Tragedy.

Sedley's poems, however amorously tender and delicate, yet have not much strength; nor do they afford great marks of genius. The softness of his verses is denominated by the Duke of Buckingham, Sedley's Witchcraft. It was an art too successful in those days to propagate the immoralities of the times, but it must be owned that in point of chast.i.ty he excels Dorset, and Rochester; who as they conceived lewdly, wrote in plain English, and did not give themselves any trouble to wrap up their ribbaldry in a dress tollerably decent. But if Sedley was the more chaste, I know not if he was the less pernicious writer: for that pill which is gilded will be swallowed more readily, and with less reluctance, than if tendered in its own disgustful colours. Sedley insinuates gently into the heart, without giving any alarm, but is no less fraught with poison, than are those whose deformity bespeaks their mischief.

It would be tedious to enumerate here all the poems of Sir Charles Sedley; let it suffice to say, that they are printed in two small volumes along with his plays, and consist of translations of Virgil's Pastorals, original Pastorals, Prologues, Songs, Epilogues, and little occasional pieces.

We shall present the reader with an original pastoral of Sir Charles's, as a specimen of his works.

He lived to the beginning of Queen Anne's reign, and died at an age near 90; his wit and humour continuing to the last.

A Pastoral Dialogue between THIRSIS and STREPHON.

THIRSIS.

Strephon, O Strephon, once the jolliest lad, That with shrill pipe did ever mountain glad; Whilome the foremost at our rural plays, The pride and envy of our holidays: Why dost thou sit now musing all alone, Teaching the turtles, yet a sadder moan?

Swell'd with thy tears, why does the neighbouring brook Bear to the ocean, what she never took?

Thy flocks are fair and fruitful, and no swain, Than thee, more welcome to the hill or plain.

STREPHON.

I could invite the wolf, my cruel guest, And play unmov'd, while he on all should feast: I cou'd endure that very swain out-run, Out-threw, out-wrestled, and each nymph shou'd shun The hapless Strephon.----

THIRSIS.

Tell me then thy grief, And give it, in complaints, some short relief.

STREPHON.

Had killing mildews nipt my rising corn, My lambs been all found dead, as soon as born; Or raging plagues run swift through every hive, And left not one industrious bee alive; Had early winds, with an hoa.r.s.e winter's found Scattered my rip'ning fruit upon the ground: Unmov'd, untoucht, I cou'd the loss sustain, And a few days expir'd, no more complain.

THIRSIS.

E'er the sun drank of the cold morning dew, I've known thee early the tuskt boar pursue: Then in the evening drive the bear away, And rescue from his jaws the trembling prey.

But now thy flocks creep feebly through the fields, No purple grapes, thy half-drest vineyards yields: No primrose nor no violets grace thy beds, But thorns and thistles lift their p.r.i.c.kly heads.

What means this change?

STREPHON

Enquire no more; When none can heal, 'tis pain to search the sore; Bright Galatea, in whose matchless face Sat rural innocence, with heavenly grace; In whose no less inimitable mind, With equal light, even distant virtues shin'd; Chaste without pride, and charming without art, Honour the tyrant of her tender heart: Fair G.o.ddess of these fields, who for our sports, Though she might well become, neglected courts: Belov'd of all, and loving me alone, Is from my sight, I fear, for ever gone.

THIRSIS.

Thy case indeed is pitiful, but yet Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set.

Women like days are, Strephon, some be far More bright and glorious than others are: Yet none so gay, so temperate, so clear, But that the like adorn the rowling year, Pleasures imparted to a friend, increase, Perhaps divided sorrow may grow less.

STREPHON.

Others as fair, to others eyes may seem, But she has all my love and my esteem: Her bright idea wanders in my thought, At once my poison, and my antidote.

THIRSIS.

Our hearts are paper, beauty is the pen, Which writes our loves, and blots 'em out agen.

Phillis is whiter than the rising swan, Her slender waist confin'd within a span: Charming as nature's face in the new spring, When early birds on the green branches sing.

When rising herbs and buds begin to hide, Their naked mother, with their short-liv'd pride, Chloe is ripe, and as the autumn fair, When on the elm the purple grapes appear, When trees, hedge-rows, and every bending bush, With rip'ning fruit, or tasteful berries blush, Lydia is in the summer of her days, What wood can shade us from her piercing rays?

Her even teeth, whiter than new yean'd lambs, When they with tender cries pursue their dams.

Her eyes as charming as the evening sun, To the scorch'd labourer when his work is done, Whom the glad pipe, to rural sports invites, And pays his toil with innocent delights.

On some of these fond swain fix thy desire, And burn not with imaginary fire.

STREPHON.

The flag shall sooner with the eagle soar, Seas leave their fishes naked on the sh.o.r.e; The wolf shall sooner by the lamkin die, And from the kid the hungry lion fly, Than I abandon Galatea's love, Or her dear image from my thoughts remove.

THIRSIS.

Damon this evening carries home his bride, In all the harmless pomp of rural pride: Where, for two spotted lambkins, newly yean'd, With nimble feet and voice, the nymphs contend: And for a coat, thy Galatea spun, The Shepherds wrestle, throw the bar, and run.

STREPHON.

At that dear name I feel my heart rebound, Like the old steed, at the fierce trumpet's sound; I grow impatient of the least delay, No b.a.s.t.a.r.d swain shall bear the prize away.

THIRSIS.

Let us make haste, already they are met; The echoing hills their joyful shouts repeat.

JOHN CROWNE

Was the son of an independent minister, in that part of North America, which is called Nova Scotia. The vivacity of his genius made him soon grow impatient of the gloomy education he received in that country; which he therefore quitted in order to seek his fortune in England; but it was his fate, upon his first arrival here, to engage in an employment more formal, if possible, than his American education. Mr. Dennis, in his Letters, vol. i. p. 48, has given us the best account of this poet, and upon his authority the above, and the succeeding circ.u.mstances are related. His necessity, when he first arrived in England, was extremely urgent, and he was obliged to become a gentleman usher to an old independent lady; but he soon grew as weary of that precise office, as he had done before of the discipline of Nova Scotia. One would imagine that an education, such as this, would be but an indifferent preparative for a man to become a polite author, but such is the irresistable force of genius, that neither this, nor his poverty, which was very deplorable, could suppress his ambition: aspiring to reputation, and distinction, rather than to fortune and power. His writings soon made him known to the court and town, yet it was neither to the savour of the court, nor to that of the earl of Rochester, that he was indebted to the nomination the king made of him, for the writing the Masque of Calypso, but to the malice of that n.o.ble lord, who designed by that preference to mortify Mr. Dryden.

Upon the breaking out of the two parties, after the pretended discovery of the Popish plot, the favour he was in at court, and the gaiety of his temper, which inclined him to join with the fashion, engaged him to embrace the Tory party. About that time he wrote the City Politicks, in order to satirize and expose the Whigs: a comedy not without wit and spirit, and which has obtained the approbation of those of contrary principles, which is the highest evidence of merit; but after it was ready for the stage, he met with great embarra.s.sments in getting it acted. Bennet lord Arlington (who was then lord chamberlain, was secretly in the cause of the Whigs, who were at that time potent in Parliament, in order to support himself against the power of lord treasurer Danby, who was his declared enemy) used all his authority to suppress it. One while it was prohibited on account of its being dangerous; another while it was laid aside upon pretence of its being flat and insipid; till Mr. Crowne, at last, was forced to have recourse to the King himself, and engage him to lay his absolute commands on the lord chamberlain to have it no longer delayed. This command he was pleased to give in his own person, for Charles II. loved comedy above all other amus.e.m.e.nts, except one which was both more expensive, and less innocent, and besides, had a very high opinion of Mr. Crowne's abilities. While he was thus in favour with the King and court, Mr.

Dennis declares, he has more than once heard him say, that though he had a sincere affection for the King, he had yet a mortal hatred to the court. The promise of a sum of money made him sometimes appear there, to sollicit the payment of it, but as soon as he received the sum, he vanished, and for a long time never approached it.

It was at the latter end of King Charles's reign, that Mr. Crowne, tired with the fatigue of writing, shocked with the uncertainty of theatrical success, and desirous to shelter himself from the resentment of those numerous enemies he had made, by his City Politics, immediately addressed the King himself, and desired his Majesty to establish him in some office, that might be a security to him for life: the King answered, he should be provided for; but added, that he would first see another comedy. Mr. Crowne endeavouring to excuse himself, by telling the King he plotted slowly and awkwardly, his Majesty replied, that he would help him to a plot, and so put in his hand the Spanish Comedy called Non Poder Esser. Mr. Crowne was obliged immediately to go to work upon it, but after he had written three acts of it, found, to his surprize, that the Spanish play had some time before been translated, and acted and d.a.m.ned, under the t.i.tle of Tarugo's Wiles, or the Coffee-House: yet, supported by the King's command, he went briskly on, and finished it.

Mr. Crowne, who had once before obliged the commonwealth of taste, with a very agreeable comedy in his City Politics, yet, in Sir Courtly Nice went far beyond it, and very much surpa.s.sed himself; for though there is something in the part of Crack, which borders upon farce, the Spanish author alone must answer for that: for Mr. Crowne could not omit the part of Crack, that is, of Tarugo, and the Spanish farce depending upon it, without a downright affront to the King, who had given him the play for his ground-work. All that is of English growth in Sir Courtly Nice is admirable; for though it has neither the fine designing of Ben Johnson, nor the masculine satire of Wycherley, nor the grace, delicacy, and courtly air of Etherege, yet is the dialogue lively and spirited, attractively diversified, and adapted to the several characters. Four of these characters are entirely new, yet general and important, drawn truly, and graphically and artfully opposed to each other, Surly to Sir Courtly, and Hot-head to Testimony: those extremes of behaviour, the one of which is the grievance, and the other the plague of society and conversation; excessive ceremony on the one side, and on the other rudeness, and brutality are finely exposed in Surly and Sir Courtly: those divisions and animosities in the two great parties of England, which have so long disturbed the public quiet, and undermined the general interest, are happily represented and ridiculed in Testimony and Hot-head. Mr. Dennis, speaking of this comedy, says, 'that though he has more than twenty times read it, yet it still grows upon him, and he delivers it as his opinion, that the greatest comic poet, who ever lived in any age, might have been proud to have been the author of it.'

The play was now just ready to appear to the world. Every one that had seen it rehea.r.s.ed, was highly pleased with it. All who had heard of it conceived great expectations, and Mr. Crowne was delighted with the flattering hope of being made happy for the remaining part of his life, by the performance of the King's promise: But upon the very last day of the rehearsal, he met Underhill coming from the playhouse, as he himself was going towards it, upon which the poet reprimanding the player for neglecting so considerable a part as he had in the comedy, and on a day of so much consequence, as the very last of the rehearsal. Oh Lord, says Underhill, we are all undone! how! says Crowne, is the Playhouse on fire? the whole nation, replies the player, will quickly be so, for the King is dead; at the hearing of which dismal words, the author was thrown almost into distraction; for he who the moment before was ravished with the thought of the pleasure he was about to give the King, and the favours which he was afterwards to receive from him, this moment found, to his unspeakable sorrow, that his Royal patron was gone for ever, and with him all his hopes. The King indeed revived from this apoplectic fit, but three days after died, and Mr. Crowne by his death was replunged into the deepest melancholly.

Thus far Mr. Dennis has traced the life of Crowne; in the same letter he promises a further account of him upon another occasion, which, it seems, never occurred, for we have not been able to find that he has any where else mentioned our author.

The King's death having put a period to Mr. Crowne's expectations of court-favour (for the reign of his successor was too much hurried with party designs, to admit of any leisure to reward poetical merit, though the Prince himself, with all his errors about him, was a man of taste, and had a very quick discernment of the power of genius) he, no doubt, had recourse to writing plays again for bread, and supporting himself the best way he could by his wits, the most unpleasing, and precarious manner of life, to which any man can be exposed. We cannot be absolutely certain when Mr. Crowne died; Mr. c.o.xeter in his notes says, he was alive in the year 1703, and as he must then have been much advanced in years, in all probability he did not long survive it. He is the author of 17 Plays.

1. Juliana, or the Princess of Poland, a Tragi-Comedy; acted at the duke of York's theatre 1671, dedicated to the earl of Orrery.

2. Andromache, a Tragedy; acted at the duke's theatre in Covent Garden, 1675. This play was only a translation of M. Racine, by a young gentleman, chiefly in prose, and published by Mr. Crown. It was brought upon the stage, but without success.