The Mistaken Husband, which was acted at the Theatre Royal, 1675. So flexible, so generous as thine, Immortal Dryden! From her copious fount To hear the foul and insolent rebuke Of shameless vice from page to page, and find Of justice, and of virtue ?" THOMAS SHADWELL. (1688-1692.) Shadwell, the great support o' the comic stage, First of our times, and second but to Ben. But always lashed the villain and the ass.” EPILOGUE TO "THE VOLUNTEERS." THOMAS SHADWELL was born at Lanton Hall, in Norfolk, in 1640, and educated at Caius College, Cambridge. He was intended for the profession of the law, and studied for some time at the Inner Temple; but deserting its shady courts and dusty books, he went to travel on the Continent, whence he returned full of ambition to shine as a poet. In that art he was also unsuccessful; but turning his attention to the drama, his really great talents won for him fame and reward, and perhaps a wife, for he married a lady connected with the theatre. He produced seventeen comedies, all avowedly in imitation of Ben Jonson, whose memory he reverenced, and whose works he was never tired of eulogising as masterpieces of English dramatic literature. In the dedication of The Virtuoso, he says of Ben Jonson : "He was incomparably the best dramatic poet that ever was, or I believe ever will be; and I had rather be the author of one scene in his best comedies than of any play this age has produced." ""Twas he alone true humours understood, And with great wit and judgment made them good." In imitation of his master, Shadwell in his comedies represents the course of peculiar humours, or the train of events brought about by the eccentricities of certain individuals. This he does with great powers of observation and considerable wit, and the perusal of some of the comedies throws considerable light on the manners of his age. For the groundwork of some of his plots he was indebted to Molière, which author in some respects he more nearly resembles than he does Jonson. "Of all our modern wits, none seem to me Scorning to varnish his good touches o'er, ROCHESTER. Shadwell clearly explains what he considers to be the proper aim of comedy: "It does not consist in the representation of mere natural imperfections; they are not fit subjects for comedy, since they are not to be laughed at, but pitied. But the artificial folly of those, who are not coxcombs by nature, but with great art and industry make themselves so, is a proper object of comedy. Good comical humour ought to be such an affectation as misguides men in knowledge, arts, or science, or that causes defection in manners and morality, or perverts their minds in the main actions of their lives." Granting this view of comedy to be the correct one, it must be allowed that Shadwell held a very high rank in its composition; but it is now the almost universal opinion that true comedy does not consist in the creation of intrigues caused by the entanglements of a variety of superficial and improbable "humours." Shadwell lived on very friendly terms with Dryden for several years, and in 1674 they united with Crowne, in the composition of a spiteful attack on Elkanah Settle, the last City poet. In 1676, Shadwell produced The Virtuoso, and in the epilogue he indulges in a sneer at Dryden's Heroic Tragedies: "But of those ladies he despairs to-day, Who love a dull, romantic, whining play : And snivelling heroes sigh, and pine, and cry, Though they can laugh at danger, blood and wounds, Yet if the dame once chides, the milksop hero swoons." This criticism was not beyond the bounds of courtesy; and in 1678 Dryden furnished Shadwell with a prologue for his comedy, The True Widow. But in March, 1682, Dryden's Medal appeared, in which he espoused the views of the Court, in the much vexed question of the succession to the throne. Shadwell, a Whig, and staunch Protestant, befriended the popular party, and replied in : THE MEDAL OF JOHN BAYES; Or, a Satyr upon Folly and Knavery. Whilst with foul words and names which he lets flie, For libel and true satyr different be, This must have truth and salt, with modesty. As far from satyr does thy talent lye, Now farewell wretched, mercenary Bayes, To be abus'd by thy own scurrilous wit." Shadwell then traces the career of Dryden, in lines remarkable for their coarseness, accusing him of being obscene in his conversation, and servile in his muse. The most noticeable passages have already been quoted, so far as modern ideas of propriety will allow; they con |