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on his side of the question. And Dryden manifested much fun and good humour in his attacks on his most vehement enemies. We might instance some of his sarcasms against Shadwell, and we might add such a remark as the following on Shaftesbury: "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." It is strange to observe what a similarity there is between the calumnies which he and Pope provoked by their satiric vein. They were both arraigned as unsound in politics and religion, as mere versifiers, and accused of tricking their subscribers with bad translations of the two epics. They were both called apes, asses, frogs, cowards, knaves and fools.

The mention of Pope's name suggests a few brief observations on the points of comparison and contrast in their several writings. As far as their morality is concerned, if it be the duty of the satirist to attack vice and expose folly in the main, to make the bad his enemies rather than his enemies bad, we must assign to Pope a higher place than we can to Dryden. If, also, wit, irony, ridicule, be rather than indignant invective and earnest declamation the proper voice of satire, then too, on this ground, must we give to Pope the pre-eminence. Take almost any passages from their writings, and we shall find that such are their distinguishing characteristics as satirists. The satire of Pope, is a burnished Damascus blade. It glitters while it wounds, but the wound is incurable. Whereas that of Dryden is a huge mace, wielded with the strength of a giant, and sometimes raised to kill a dwarf.

In attempting to estimate the character and career of this Poet, must we not admit that there is neither in the one or the other anything sublime or noble to stir our enthusiasm or excite our love? We cannot dwell on his memory as we do on that of Shakespeare and of some of

Shakespeare's contemporaries. We cannot look back on him with the mingled exultation and sorrow which moves our hearts when we think of the blind prophet who uttered thoughts too pure and holy for a generation which knew him not, and in the midst of which he moved a stranger and a pilgrim.

On the page of the annals of letters the name of Dryden will stand as one of our greatest literary men—bold, brilliant, versatile, comprehensive-as one who aided our language in its development, and has given dignity, grace, and harmony to our versification. He was not one of those master spirits who enrich by their genius the thought of the world, and are "the unacknowledged legislators of mankind." Still less to the satirist and dramatist of the Restoration, was

"That sublimer inspiration given,

Which glows in Shakespeare's or in Milton's page,
The pomp and prodigality of Heaven."


THOMAS SHADWELL was a descendant of the younger branch of a Staffordshire family of great antiquity. He was born at the paternal seat, Santon Hall, in Norfolk, about 1640. His father had been a member of the Middle Temple, but having declined to compete for the more splendid prizes of the law, his ambition was satisfied with the performance of the lowlier, though important duties, connected with the local magistracy. He was in the commission of the peace for the counties of Middlesex, Norfolk and Suffolk. He espoused the side of the King during the times when loyalty was something more than lip-homage, and exhausted his patrimony through his devotion to the royal cause. The subject of this memoir was sent to Caius College, Cambridge, where his father had graduated before him, and afterwards to the Middle Temple, in the hope that his success at the bar might be a means of restoring the shattered fortunes of the house. Shadwell, however, felt little inclination to undergo the drudgery necessary for advancement in that most arduous of all the professions, and he deserted his law-books for others more congenial to his tastes. After a few years

spent at the Temple, he made the tour of the Continent, and on his return home became acquainted with several of the literary men of the day. His firsts attempts in verse were lamentably bad, and he never achieved any reputation as a poet; but he made the theatre his study, and first attracted attention by a comedy entitled "The Sullen Lovers, or the Impertinents." This piece, which was acted by the Duke of York's company, and printed in 1668, was, like most first productions, a mere reflex of the writer's peculiar studies. An extract from the preface will show the principle upon which it was put together, and the author he proposed as his model.

"I have endeavoured," he writes, "to represent variety of humours which was the practice of Ben Jonson, whom I think all dramatic poets ought to imitate, though none are like to come near, he being the only person that appears to me to have made perfect representations of human life. Most other authors in their lower comedies content themselves with one or two humours at most, and those not near so perfect characters as the admirable Jonson always made, who never wrote comedy without seven or eight excellent humours. I never saw one except that of Falstaff that was in my judgment comparable to any of Jonson's considerable humours."

His admiration of Jonson was excessive. In another place, he observes of him that "he was incomparably the best dramatic poet that ever was or I believe ever will be; and I had rather be author of one scene in his best comedies, than of any play this age has produced." In his epilogue to "The Humorists," he also writes of his favourite thus:

"The mighty Prince of Poets, learned Ben,
Who alone dived into the minds of men,
Saw all their wand'rings, all their follies knew,
And all their vain fantastic passions drew.

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'Twas he alone true humours understood,

And with great wit and judgment made them good."

And in the dedication prefixed to his play, "The Virtuoso," he explains humour to be "Such an affectation as misguides men in knowledge, art, or science, or that causes defection in manners or morality, or perverts their minds in the main actions of their lives."

Shadwell borrowed freely both from contemporary and preceding writers. The groundwork of "The Libertine," "The Miser," "Bury Fair," and "The Sullen Lovers," he took from Molière. "The Adelphi" of Terence gave him a hint for some passages in his "Squire of Alsatia,” while he intimates that Shakespeare was under obligations to him for having first made a play of his "Timon of Athens." This hallucination respecting Shakespeare was common to authors, critics and the public of that time, and though indicating the immature or distorted taste that Shadwell had in common with his contemporaries, is no proof whatever, as has been alleged, of assurance or selfconceit.

His plays show great powers of observation, and make us well acquainted with the manners of his age. The public thought highly of them, and the Earl of Rochester, no bad critic, said:

"Of all our modern wits, none seem to me
Once to have touched upon true comedy,
But hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherley.
Shadwell's unfinish'd works do yet impart
Great proofs of force of genius, none of art,

With just bold strokes he dashes here and there,
Showing great mastery with little care."

But our dramatist had little skill in discerning the more hidden complexities, or in pourtraying the nicer shades of human character-he saw very little below the surface, though his method was based upon the right foundation. In this respect, he contrasts his own plan of writing with

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