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.
3. Calisto, or the Chaste Nymph, a masque, 1675; written by command of
the queen, and oftentimes performed at court by persons of quality. It
is founded on a story in Ovid's Metamorphoses, lib. 2.
4. The Country Wit, a Comedy; acted at the duke's theatre 1675. This
play contains a good deal of low humour; and was approved by king
Charles the IId.
5. The Destruction of Jerusalem, by Titus Vespasian, in two parts, acted
1677; addressed to the duchess of Portsmouth. These Tragedies met with
extravagant applause, which excited the envy of lord Rochester so much,
that on this account he commenced an enemy to the bard he before had so
much befriended.
6. The Ambitious Statesman, or the Royal Favourite, a Tragedy; acted at
the theatre-royal 1679. This play had but indifferent success, though
esteemed by the author one of the best he ever wrote.
7. Charles the VIIIth King of France, or the Invasion of Naples by the
French; this play is written in heroic verse.
8. Henry the VIth, the first part, with the murther of Humphrey duke of
Gloucester; acted 1681, dedicated to Sir Charles Sedley. This play was
at first acted with applause; but at length, the Romish faction opposed
it, and by their interest at court got it suppressed. Part of this play
was borrowed from Shakespear's Henry the VIth.
9. Henry the VIth, the second part; or the Miseries of Civil War; a
Tragedy, acted 1680.
10. Thyestes, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal 1681. The plot from
Seneca's Thyestes.
11. City Politics, a Comedy, 1683; of this already we have given some
account.
12. Sir Courtly Nice, or It Cannot be; dedicated to the duke of Ormond,
of which we have given an account in the author's life.
13. Darius King of Persia, a Tragedy; acted in 1688. For the plot, see
Quint. Curt. lib. 3, 4, and 5.
14. The English Fryar, or the Town Sparks, a Comedy; printed in quarto
1690, dedicated to William earl of Devonshire. This play had not the
success of the other pieces of the same author.
15. Regulus, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal 1694. The design of
this play is noble; the example of Regulus being the most celebrated
for honour, and constancy of any of the Romans. There is a play of
this name, written by Mr. Havard, a comedian now belonging to the
theatre-royal in Drury-lane.
16. The Married Beaux, or the Curious Impertinent, a Comedy; acted at
the theatre-royal, 1694, dedicated to the marquis of Normanby. To this
play the author has prefixed a preface in vindication of himself, from
the aspersions cast on him by some persons, as to his morals. The story
is taken from Don Quixot.
17. Caligula, Emperor of Rome, a Tragedy; acted at the theatre-royal,
1698.
Our author's other works are, Pandion and Amphigenia, or the coy Lady of
Thessalia; adorned with sculptures, printed in octavo, 1665.
Dæneids, or the noble Labours of the great Dean of Notre-Dame in Paris,
for the erecting in his choir, a Throne for his Glory; and the eclipsing
the pride of an imperious usurping Chanter, an heroic poem, in four
Canto's; printed in quarto 1692. It is a burlesque Poem, and is chiefly
taken from Boileau's Lutrin.
We shall shew Mr. Crown's versification, by quoting a speech which he
puts into the mouth of an Angel, in the Destruction of Jerusalem. The
Angel is represented as descending over the altar prophesying the fall
of that august city.
Stay, stay, your flight, fond men, Heaven does despise
All your vain incense, prayers, and sacrifice.
Now is arriv'd Jerusalem's fatal hour,
When she and sacrifice must be no more:
Long against Heav'n had'st thou, rebellious town,
Thy public trumpets of defiance blown;
Didst open wars against thy Lord maintain,
And all his messengers of peace have slain:
And now the hour of his revenge is come,
Thy weeks are finish'd, and thy slumb'ring doom,
Which long has laid in the divine decree,
Is now arous'd from his dull lethargy;
His army's rais'd, and his commission seal'd,
His order's given, and cannot be repeal'd:
And now thy people, temple, altars all
Must in one total dissolution fall.
Heav'n will in sad procession walk the round,
And level all thy buildings with the ground.
And from the soil enrich'd with human blood,
Shall grass spring up, where palaces have stood,
Where beasts shall seed; and a revenge obtain
For all the thousands at thy altars slain.
And this once blessed house, where Angels came
To bathe their airy wings in holy flame,
Like a swift vision or a flash of light,
All wrapt in fire shall vanish in thy sight;
And thrown aside amongst the common store,
Sink down in time's abyss, and rise no more.
* * * * *
CHARLES SACKVILLE, Earl of DORSET,
Eldest son of Richard earl of Dorset, born the 24th of January 1637, was
one of the most accomplished gentlemen of the age in which he lived,
which was esteemed one of the most courtly ever known in our nation;
when, as Pope expresses it,
The soldiers ap'd the gallantries of France,
And ev'ry flow'ry courtier writ romance.
Immediately after the restoration, he was chosen member of parliament
for East-Grimstead, and distinguished himself while he was in the
House of Commons. The sprightliness of his wit, and a most exceeding
good-nature, recommended him very early to the favour of Charles the
IId, and those of the greatest distinction in the court; but his mind
being more turned to books, and polite conversation, than public
business, he totally declined the latter, tho' as bishop Burnet[1] says,
the king courted him as a favorite. Prior in his dedication of his
poems, observes, that when the honour and safety of his country demanded
his assistance, he readily entered into the most active parts of life;
and underwent the dangers with a constancy of mind, which shewed he had
not only read the rules of philosophy, but understood the practice of
them. He went a volunteer under his royal highness the duke of York in
the first Dutch war, 1665, when the Dutch admiral Opdam was blown up,
and about thirty capital ships taken and destroyed; and his composing
a song before the engagement, carried with it in the opinion of many
people to sedate a presence of mind, and such unusual gallantry, that it
has been much celebrated.
This Song, upon so memorable an occasion, is comprised in the following
stanzas.
I.
To all you ladies, now at land,
We men at sea indite,
But first would have you understand,
How hard it is to write;
The Muses now, and Neptune too,
We must implore to write to you,
With a fa, la, la, la, la.
II.
For tho' the Muses should prove kind,
And fill our empty brain;
Yet if rough Neptune rouze the wind,
To wave the azure main,
Our paper, pen and ink, and we,
Roll up and down our ships at sea,
With a la fa, &c.
III.
Then if we write not, by each post,
Think not, we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost,
By Dutchmen or by wind:
Our tears, we'll send a speedier way,
The tide shall waft them twice a day.
With a fa, &c.
IV.
The king with wonder, and surprize,
Will swear the seas grow bold;
Because the tides will higher rise,
Then e'er they did of old:
But let him knew it is our tears,
Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-Stairs.
With a fa, &c.
V.
Should foggy Opdam chance to know;
Our sad and dismal story;
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at Goree:
For what resistance can they find,
From men who've left their hearts behind.
With a fa, &c.
VI.
Let wind, and weather do its worst,
Be you to us but kind;
Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,
No sorrow we shall find;
'Tis then no matter, how things go,
Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.
With a fa, &c.
VII.
To pass our tedious hours away,
We throw a merry main;
Or else at serious Ombre play;
But why should we in vain
Each other's ruin thus pursue?
We were undone, when we left you.
With a fa, &c.
VIII.
But now our fears tempestuous grow,
And cast our hopes away;
Whilst you, regardless of our woe,
Sit carelessly at play;
Perhaps permit some happier man,
To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan.
With a fa, &c.
IX.
When any mournful tune, you hear,
That dies in every note;
And if it sigh'd with each man's care,
For being so remote;
Think then, how often love we've made
To you, when all those tunes were play'd.
With a fa, &c.
X.
In justice, you cannot refuse,
To think of our distress;
When we for hopes of honour lose,
Our certain happiness;
All those designs are but to prove,
Ourselves more worthy of your love.
With a fa, &c.
XI.
And, now we've told you all our loves,
And likewise all our fears;
In hopes this declaration moves,
Some pity for our tears:
Let's hear of no inconstancy,
We have too much of that at sea.
With a fa, &c.
To maintain an evenness of temper in the time of danger, is certainly
the highest mark of heroism; but some of the graver cast have been apt
to say, this sedate composure somewhat differs from that levity of
disposition, or frolic humour, that inclines a man to write a song.
But, let us consider my lord's fervour of youth, his gaiety of mind,
supported by strong spirits, flowing from an honest heart, and, I
believe, we shall rather be disposed to admire, than censure him on this
occasion. Remember too, he was only a volunteer. The conduct of the
battle depended not on him. He had only to shew his intrepidity and
diligence, in executing the orders of his commander, when called on; as
he had no plans of operation to take up his thoughts why not write a
song? there was neither indecency, nor immorality in it: I doubt not,
but with that chearfulness of mind he composed himself to rest, with as
right feelings, and as proper an address to his maker, as any one of a
more melancholly disposition, or gloomy aspect.
Most commanders, in the day of battle, assume at least a brilliancy of
countenance, that may encourage their soldiers; and they are admired
for it: to smile at terror has, before this, been allowed the mark of a
hero. The dying Socrates discoursed his friends with great composure; he
was a philosopher of a grave cast: Sir Thomas Moore (old enough to be
my lord's father) jok'd, even on the scaffold; a strong instance of his
heroism, and no contradiction to the rectitude of his mind. The verses
the Emperor Adrian wrought on his death-bed (call them a song if you
will) have been admired, and approved, by several great men; Mr. Pope
has not only given his opinion in their favour, but elegantly translated
them, nay, thought them worthy an imitation, perhaps exceeding the
original. If this behaviour of my lord's is liable to different
constructions, let good nature, and good manners, incline us to bestow
the most favourable thereon.
After his fatigues at sea, during the remainder of the reign of Charles
the IId, he continued to live in honourable leisure. He was of the
bed-chamber to the king, and possessed not only his master's favour, but
in a great degree his familiarity, never leaving the court but when he
was sent to that of France, upon some short commission, and embassies of
compliment; as if the king designed to rival the French in the
article of politeness, who had long claimed a superiority in that
accomplishment, by shewing them that one of the most finished gentlemen
in Europe was his subject; and that he understood his worth so well,
as not to suffer him to be long out of his presence. Among other
commissions he was sent in the year 1669, to compliment the French king
on his arrival at Dunkirk, in return of the compliment of that monarch,
by the duchess of Orleans, then in England.
Being possessed of the estate of his uncle the earl of Middlesex, who
died in the year 1674, he was created earl of that county, and baron of
Cranfield, by letters patent, dated the fourth of April, 1675. 27 C. II;
and in August 1677 succeeded his father as earl of Dorset; as also, in
the post of lord lieutenant of the county of Sussex, having been joined
in the commission with him in 1670[2]. Also the 20th of February 1684 he
was made custos rotulorum for that county.
Having buried his first lady, Elizabeth, daughter of Harvey Bagot, of
Whitehall in the county of Warwick, Esq; widow of Charles Berkley, earl
of Falmouth, without any issue by her, he married, in the year 1684, the
lady Mary, daughter of James Compton, earl of Northampton, famed for her
beauty, and admirable endowments of mind, who was one of the ladies of
the bed-chamber to Queen Mary, and left his lordship again a widower,
August 6, 1691, leaving issue by him one son, his grace Lionel now duke
of Dorset, and a daughter, the lady Mary, married in the year 1702 to
Henry Somerset duke of Beaufort, and dying in child-bed, left no issue.
The earl of Dorset appeared in court at the trial of the seven bishops,
accompanied with other noblemen, which had a good effect on the jury,
and brought the judges to a better temper than they had usually shewn.
He also engaged with those who were in the prince of Orange's interest;
and carried on his part of that enterprize in London, under the eye of
the court, with the same courage and resolution as his friend the duke
of Devonshire did in open arms, at Nottingham. When prince George of
Denmark deserted King James, and joined the prince of Orange, the
princess Anne was in violent apprehensions of the King's displeasure,
and being desirous of withdrawing herself, lord Dorset was thought the
properest guide for her necessary flight[3]. She was secretly brought
to him by his lady's uncle, the bishop of London: who furnished the
princess with every thing necessary for her flight to the Prince of
Orange, and attended her northward, as far as Northampton, where he
quickly brought a body of horse to serve for her guard, and went from
thence to Nottingham, to confer with the duke of Devonshire. After
the misguided monarch had withdrawn himself, lord Dorset continued
at London, and was one of those peers who sat every day in the
Council-chamber, and took upon them the government of the realm, in this
extremity, till some other power should be introduced. In the debates in
Parliament immediately after this confusion, his lordship voted for the
vacancy of the throne, and that the prince and princess of Orange should
be declared King and Queen of England, &c. When their Majesties had
accepted the crown of these realms, his lordship was the next day sworn
of the privy-council, and declared lord chamberlain of the household,
'A place, says Prior, which he eminently adorned by the grace of his
person, the fineness of his breeding, and the knowledge and practice of
what was decent and magnificent.' It appears by the history of England,
that he had the honour to stand godfather, with King William to a son of
the prince and princess of Denmark, born at Hampton-court, the 24th of
July 1689, and christened the 27th by the name of William, whom his
Majesty declared duke of Gloucester. When the King had been earnestly
entreated by the States of Holland, and the confederate princes in
Germany, to meet at a general congress to be held at the Hague, in
order to concert matters for the better support of the confederacy, and
thereupon took shipping the 16th of January 1692, his lordship was
among the peers, who to honour their King and Country, waited on their
sovereign in that cold season. When they were two or three leagues off
Goree, his Majesty having by bad weather been four days at sea, was so
impatient to go on shore, that taking boat, and a thick fog rising soon
after, they were surrounded so closely with ice, as not to be able
either to make the shore, or get back to the ship; so that lying
twenty-two hours, enduring the most bitter cold, and almost despairing
of life, they could hardly stand or speak at their landing; and his
lordship was so lame, that for some time he did not recover; yet on
his return to England, he neither complained of the accident nor the
expence.
On the 2d of February 1691, at a chapter of the most noble order of the
garter, held at Kensington, his lordship was elected one of the knights
companions of this order, with his highness John-George, the fourth
elector of Saxony, and was installed at Windsor on the February
following. He was constituted four times one of the regents of the
kingdom in his Majesty's absence. About the year 1698, his health
sensibly declining, he left public business to those who more delighted
in it, and appeared only sometimes at council, to shew his respect to
the commission which he bore, for he had already tasted all the comfort
which court favour could bestow; he had been high in office, respected
by his sovereign and the idol of the people; but now when the evening
of life approached, he began to look upon such enjoyments with less
veneration, and thought proper to dedicate some of his last hours to
quiet and meditation. Being advised to go to Bath for the recovery of
his health, he there ended his life on the 29th of January 1705-6, and
was buried at Witham on the 17th of February following.
Lord Dorset was a great patron of men of letters and merit. Dr. Sprat,
bishop of Rochester, celebrated for his polite writings, appealed to him
when under a cloud, for the part he acted in the reign of King James
II. and by his lordship's interest preserved himself. To him Mr. Dryden
dedicated his translation of Juvenal, in which he is very lavish in his
lordship's praise, and expresses his gratitude for the bounty he had
experienced from him.
Mr. Prior (among others who owed their life and fortune to my lord
Dorset) makes this public acknowledgment, 'That he scarce knew what life
was, sooner than he found himself obliged to his favour; or had reason
to feel any sorrow so sensibly as that of his death.' Mr. Prior then
proceeds to enumerate the valuable qualities of his patron; in which the
warmth of his gratitude appears in the most elegant panegyric. I cannot
imagine that Mr. Prior, with respect to his lordship's morals, has
in the least violated truth; for he has shewn the picture in various
lights, and has hinted at his patron's errors, as well as his graces and
virtues. Among his errors was that of indulging passion, which carried
him into transports, of which he was often ashamed; and during these
little excesses (says he) 'I have known his servants get into his way,
that they might make a merit of it immediately after; for he who had the
good fortune to be chid, was sure of being rewarded for it.'
His lordship's poetical works have been published among the minor
poets 1749, and consist chiefly of a poem to Mr. Edward Howard, on his
incomprehensible poem called the British Princes, in which his lordship
is very satyrical upon that author.
Verses to Sir Thomas St. Serfe, on his printing his play called Tarugo's
Wiles, acted 1668.
An Epilogue to Moliere's Tartuff.
An epilogue on the revival of Ben Johnson's play called Every Man in his
Humour.
A Song writ at Sea, in the time of the Dutch war 1665, the night before
an engagement.
Verses addressed to the Countess of Dorchester.
A Satirical piece, entitled, A Faithful Catalogue of our most eminent
Ninnies; written in the year 1683.
Several Songs.
From the specimens lord Dorset has given us of his poetical talents, we
are inclined to wish, that affairs of higher consequence had permitted
him to have dedicated more of his time to the Muses. Though some critics
may alledge, that what he has given the public is rather pretty than
great; and that a few pieces of a light nature do not sufficiently
entitle him to the character of a first rate poet; yet, when we
consider, that notwithstanding they were merely the amusement of his
leisure hours, and mostly the productions of his youth, they contain
marks of a genius, and as such, he is celebrated by Dryden, Prior,
Congreve, Pope, &c.
We shall conclude his life with the encomium Pope bestows on him, in the
following beautiful lines.
Dorset, the grace of courts, the muses pride,
Patron of arts, and judge of nature, dy'd:
The scourge of pride, the sanctify'd or great,
Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state.
Yet soft his nature, tho severe his lay,
His anger moral, and his wisdom gay.
Blest satyrist, who touch'd the mean so true,
As shew'd vice had his hate and pity too.
Blest courtier! who could King and Country please,
Yet sacred keep his friendship, and his ease.
Blest peer! his great forefathers ev'ry grace
Reflecting, and reflected in his race;
Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets thine.
And patriots still, or poets deck the line
[Footnote 1: History of his own times; p. 264.]
[Footnote 2: Collin's Peerage, p. 575. vol. I.]
[Footnote 3: Burnet's Hist. of his own times.]
* * * * *
Mr. GEORGE FARQUHAR
Was descended of a Family of no mean rank in the North of Ireland; we
have been informed that his father was dean of Armagh, but we have not
met with a proper confirmation of this circumstance; but it is on
all hands agreed, that he was the son of a clergyman, and born at
London-Derry in that kingdom, in the year 1678, as appears from Sir
James Ware's account of him. There he received the rudiments of
education, and discovered a genius early devoted to the Muses; Before he
was ten years of age he gave specimens of his poetry, in which, force of
thinking, and elegance of turn and expression are manifest; and if
the author, who has wrote Memoirs of his life, may be credited, the
following stanza's were written by him at that age,
The pliant soul of erring youth,
Is like soft wax, or moisten'd clay;
Apt to receive all heavenly truth
Or yield to tyrant ill the sway.
Slight folly in your early years,
At manhood may to virtue rise;
But he who in his youth appears
A fool, in age will ne'er be wise.
His parents, it is said, had a numerous family, so could bestow no
fortune upon him, further than a genteel education. When he was
qualified for the university, he was, in 1694, sent to Trinity College
in Dublin: here, by the progress he made in his studies, he acquired a
considerable reputation[1], but it does not appear, that he there took
his degree of bachelor of arts; for his disposition being volatile and
giddy, he soon grew weary of a dull collegiate life; and his own opinion
of it, in that sense, he afterwards freely enough displayed in several
parts of his comedies, and other writings. Besides, the expence of it,
without any immediate prospect of returns, might be inconsistent with
his circumstances. The polite entertainments of the town more forcibly
attracted his attention, especially the diversions of the Theatre, for
which, he discovered a violent propension. When Mr. Ashbury, who then
was manager of Dublin Theatre, had recruited his company with the
celebrated Mr. Wilks (who had for some seasons engaged with Mr.
Christopher Rich at Drury-Lane, from whom his encouragement was not
equal to his merit) Farquhar having acquaintance with him, Mr. Wilks,
was soon introduced upon the stage by his means, where he did not long
continue, nor make any considerable figure. His person was sufficiently
advantageous, he had a ready memory, proper gesture, and just elocution,
but then he was unhappy in his voice, which had not power enough to
rouse the galleries, or to rant with any success; besides, he was
defective in point of assurance, nor could ever enough overcome his
natural timidity. His more excellent talents however might, perhaps,
have continued the player at Dublin, and lost the poet at London; but
for an accident, which was likely to turn a feigned tragedy into a real
one: The story is this.