SECTION VIII.

The State of Dryden’s Reputation at his Death, and afterwards—­The General Character of his Mind—­His Merit as a Dramatist—­As a Lyrical Poet—–­As a Satirist—­As a Narrative Poet—­As a Philosophical and Miscellaneous Poet—­As a Translator—­As a Prose Author—­As a Critic.

If Dryden received but a slender share of the gifts of fortune, it was amply made up to him in reputation.  Even while a poet militant upon earth, he received no ordinary portion of that applause, which is too often reserved for the “dull cold ear of death.”  He combated, it is true, but he conquered; and, in despite of faction, civil and religious, of penury, and the contempt which follows it, of degrading patronage, and rejected solicitation, from 1666 to the year of his death, the name of Dryden was first in English literature.  Nor was his fame limited to Britain.  Of the French literati, although Boileau,[1] with unworthy affectation, when he heard of the honours paid to the poet’s remains, pretended ignorance even of his name, yet Rapin, the famous critic, learned the English language on purpose to read the works of Dryden.[2] Sir John Shadwell, the son of our author’s ancient adversary, bore an honourable and manly testimony to the general regret among the men of letters at Paris for the death of Dryden.  “The men of letters here lament the loss of Mr. Dryden very much.  The honours paid to him have done our countrymen no small service; for, next to having so considerable a man of our own growth, ’tis a reputation to have known how to value him; as patrons very often pass for wits, by esteeming those that are so.”  And from another authority we learn, that the engraved copies of Dryden’s portrait were bought up with avidity on the Continent.[3]

But it was in England where the loss of Dryden was chiefly to be felt.  It is seldom the extent of such a deprivation is understood, till it has taken place; as the size of an object is best estimated, when we see the space void which it had long occupied.  The men of literature, starting as it were from a dream, began to heap commemorations, panegyrics, and elegies:  the great were as much astonished at their own neglect of such an object of bounty, as if the same had never been practised before; and expressed as much compunction, as it were never to occur again.  The poets were not silent; but their strains only evinced their woful degeneracy from him whom they mourned.  Henry Playford, a publisher of music, collected their effusions into a compilation, entitled, “Luctus Britannici, or the Tears of the British Muses, for the death of John Dryden;” which he published about two months after Dryden’s death.[4] Nine ladies, assuming each the character of a Muse, and clubbing a funeral ode, or elegy, produced “The Nine Muses;” of which very rare (and very worthless) collection, I have given a short account in the Appendix; where the reader will also find an ode on the same subject, by Oldys, which may serve for ample specimen of the poetical lamentations over Dryden.