Wid. Well said, boy.-Come, Mr Splitcause, pray go see when my cause in Chancery comes on; and go speak with Mr Quillit in the King's-bench, and Mr Quirk in the Common-pleas, and see how matters go there. Major Oldfox [entering]. Lady, a good and propitious morning to you; and may all your causes go as well as if I myself were judge of 'em! Wid. Sir, excuse me; I am busy, and cannot answer compliments in Westminster Hall.-Go, Mr Splitcause, and come to me again to that bookseller's; there I'll stay for you, that you may be sure to find me. Old. No, sir, come to the other bookseller's. I'll attend your ladyship thither. [Exit SPLITCAUSE. Wid. Why to the other? Old. Because he is my bookseller, lady. Wid. What, to sell you lozenges for your catarrh? or medicines for your corns? What else can a major deal with a bookseller for? Old. Lady, he prints for me. Wid. Why, are you an author? Old. Of some few essays; deign you, lady, to peruse 'em. [Aside.] She is a woman of parts; and I must win her by showing mine. Bookseller's Boy. Will you see Culpepper, mistress? 'Aristotle's Problems?' 'The Complete Midwife?' Wid. No; let's see Dalton, Hughs, Shepherd, Wingate. B. Boy. We have no law books. Wid. No! you are a pretty bookseller then. Old. Come, have you e'er a one of my essays left? B. Boy. Yes, sir, we have enough, and shall always have 'em. Old. How so? B. Boy. Why, they are good, steady, lasting ware. Old. Nay, I hope they will live; let's see.- -Be pleased, madam, to peruse the poor endeavours of my pen: for I have a pen, though I say it, that Jer. Pray let me see 'St George for Christendom,' or 'The Seven Champions of England.' Wid. No, no; give him 'The Young Clerk's Guide.' -What, we shall have you read yourself into a humour of rambling and fighting, and studying military discipline, and wearing red breeches. Old. Nay, if you talk of military discipline, show him my Treatise of the Art Military.' Wid. Hold; I would as willingly he should read a play. Jer. O, pray forsooth, mother, let me have a play. Wid. No, sirrah; there are young students of the law enough spoiled already by plays. They would make you in love with your laundress, or, what's worse, some queen of the stage that was a laundress. . . . But stay, Jerry, is not that Mr What d'ye-call-him, that goes there, he that offered to sell me a suit in chancery for five hundred pounds, for a hundred down, and only paying the clerk's fees? Jer. Ay, forsooth, 'tis he. Wid. Then stay here, and have a care of the bags, whilst I follow him.-Have a care of the bags, I say. Jer. And do you have a care, forsooth, of the statute against champarty, I say. [Exit Widow BLACKACRE. Leigh Hunt edited the works of Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar (1840; new ed. 1865); and Mr W. C. Ward edited Wycherley in the 'Mermaid Series' (1896). See Hazlitt's English Comic Writers (1819; new ed. 1869) and Ward's Dramatic LiteraLure (1875). Aphra Behn (1640-89; her first name is also spelt AYFARA), the female Wycherley, was the first English professional authoress. The comedies of Mrs Behn are grossly indecorous; and of the whole seventeen which she wrote-besides various novels and poems-not one is now acted, read, or remembered. Mrs Behn was daughter of John Johnson, a barber, and born at Wye in Kent in 1640. With a relative whom she called 'father,' and who was English lieutenant - governor of Surinam, she went to the West Indies, and became acquainted with the princely slave Oroonoko, on whose story she founded a novel. In 1658 she returned to England, and soon after marrying Mr Behn, a wealthy London merchant of Dutch descent, she found her way to the English court. Her husband died before 1666, whereupon she was employed as a political spy by Charles II.; and while residing at Antwerp she was enabled, by the aid of her lovers and admirers, to give information to the British Government as to the intended Dutch attack on Chatham. Her advice was not acted on, and on her return to England she betook to literature as a profession. She wrote nearly a score of dramas, mostly comedies, which are very coarse but lively and amusing-The Forced Marriage, Abdelazer, The Rover, The Debauchee, The Town Fop, &c. She borrowed freely from older dramatists and from the French theatre. Her comedies attracted more attention in her lifetime than her novels. Of the novels, Oroonoko is the best known; both it and her story of The Nun, or the Fair Vow-breaker, were dramatised by Southerne; and in the section on Southerne (Vol. II. pp. 63-65) a passage from each is quoted. The Nun opens with a clever satire on town-fops. 'Facetious' Tom Brown, not himself very careful to avoid offence, makes a candid friend write to her and of her, 'Those were the two knacks you were chiefly happy in; one was to make libertines laugh, and the other to make modest women blush.' Mrs Keith of Ravelston's criticism is known to all lovers of Scott. The venerable lady remembered how in her youth Mrs Behn's stories were universally admired, and asked Scott to get her a sight of them. In spite of his misgivings, Scott says, 'To hear was to obey. So I sent Mrs Aphra Behn, curiously sealed up, with "Private and confidential" on the packet, to my gay old grand-aunt. next time I saw her afterwards she gave me back Aphra, properly wrapped up, with nearly these words: "Take back your bonny Mrs Behn; and, if you will take my advice, put her in the fire, for I found it impossible to get through the very first novel. But is it not," she said, "a very odd thing that I, an old woman of eighty and upwards, sitting alone, feel myself ashamed to read a book which, sixty years ago, I have heard read aloud for the amusement of large circles, consisting of the first and most creditable society in London?”' Like so many of her contemporaries, Mrs Behn The wrote 'Pindaricks' on the death of Charles II. and other notable events and occasions. Her longest poem was a tedious allegorical Voyage to the Isle of Love; some of the lyrics in her plays and amongst her poems are admirable. Mr Gosse places her 'in the first rank of English female writers.' Her life was less scandalous than her literary work; she was the friend of Dryden and Otway; and it should be recorded to her credit that by her Oroonoko she was the first English writer to stir sympathy with the slave. As Mr Swinburne has put it: "This improper woman of genius was the first literary abolitionist-the first champion of the slave on record in the history of fiction.' That is a better justification than ought else in her plays and novels for her resting-place in Westminster Abbey, and brings her into strange companionship with Mrs Beecher Stowe. An eighth edition of her works appeared in 1735 Song from 'Abdelazer.' Love in fantastic triumph sat, Whilst bleeding hearts around him flowed, For whom fresh pains he did create, And strange tyrannic power he shewed. From thy bright eyes he took his fires, Which round about in sport he hurled : But 'twas from mine he took desires Enough to undo the amorous world. From me he took his sighs and tears, From thee his pride and cruelty; From me his languishment and fears, And every killing dart from thee: Thus thou and I the god have armed, And set him up a deity: But my poor heart alone is harmed, While thine the victor is, and free. The Dream. The grove was gloomy all around, I slept and saw a piteous sight, Till both his little stars of light Had wept themselves away. Methought I asked him why he cried ; My pity led me on,— All sighing the sad boy replied, 'Alas! I am undone ! As I beneath yon myrtles lay, Down by Diana's springs, Amyntas stole my bow away, And pinioned both my wings.' He stole his power from thee? And, for this service on my part, And those gay wings displayed, Which gently fanned, he mounting cried, 'Farewell, fond easy maid!' At this I blushed, and angry grew I should a god believe, And waking found my dream too true, Oroonoko, the hero of the romance, was a young and gallant African prince, grandson of the reigning king; eminently accomplished and distinguished for his military prowess, he was thus shamefully betrayed into slavery by Englishmen : Oroonoko was no sooner return'd from this last conquest, and receiv'd at court with all the joy and magnificence that could be express'd to a young victor, who was not only return'd triumphant, but belov'd like a deity, than there arriv'd in port an English ship. The master of it had often before been in these countries, and was very well known to Oroonoko, with whom he had traffick'd for slaves, and had us'd to do the same with his predecessors. This commander was a man of a finer sort of address and conversation, better bred, and more engaging than most of that sort of men are; so that he seem'd rather never to have been bred out of a court, than almost all his life at sea. This captain therefore was always better receiv'd at court than most of the traders to those countries were; and especially by Oroonoko, who was more civiliz'd, according to the European mode, than any other had been, and took more delight in the white nations; and, above all, men of parts and wit. To this captain he sold abundance of his slaves; and for the favour and esteem he had for him, made him many presents, and oblig'd him to stay at court as long as possibly he could. Which the captain seem'd to take as a very great honour done him, entertaining the prince every day with globes and maps, and mathematical discourses and instruments; eating, drinking, hunting, and living with him with so much familiarity, that it was not to be doubted but he had gain'd very greatly upon the heart of this gallant young man. And the captain, in return of all these mighty favours, besought the prince to honour his vessel with his presence some day or other at dinner, before he should set sail; which he condescended to accept, and appointed his day. The captain, on his part, fail'd not to have all things in a readiness, in the most magnificent order he could possibly: and the day being come, the captain, in his boat richly adorn'd with carpets and velvet cushions, rowed to the shore to receive the prince; with another longboat, where was plac'd all his musick and trumpets, with which Oroonoko was extremely delighted; who met him on the shore, attended by his French governor, Jamoan, Aboan, and about an hundred of the noblest of the youths of the court: and after they had first carried the prince on board, the boats fetch'd the rest off, where they found a very splendid treat, with all sorts of fine wines, and were as well entertain'd as 'twas possible in such a place to be. The prince having drank hard of punch and several sorts of wine, as did all the rest (for great care was taken they should want nothing of that part of the entertainment), was very merry, and in great admiration of the ship, for he had never been in one before; so that he was curious of beholding every place where he decently might descend. The rest, no less curious, who were not quite overcome with drinking, rambled at their pleasure fore and aft, as their fancies guided 'em : so that the captain, who had well laid his design before, gave the word, and seiz'd on all his guests; they clapping great irons suddenly on the prince, when he was leap'd down into the hold, to view that part of the vessel; and locking him fast down, secur'd him. The same treachery was us'd to all the rest; and all in one instant, in several places of the ship, were lash'd fast in irons, and betray'd to slavery. That great design over, they set all hands at work to hoist sail; and with as treacherous as fair a wind they made from the shore with this innocent and glorious prize, who thought of nothing less than such an entertainment. Some have commended this act, as brave in the captain; but I will spare my sense of it, and leave it to my reader to judge as he pleases. It may be easily guess'd in what manner the prince resented this indignity, who may be best resembled to a lion taken in a toil; so he raged, so he struggled for liberty, but all in vain and they had so wisely managed his fetters, that he could not use a hand in his defence, to quit himself of a life that would by no means endure slavery; nor could he move from the place where he was ty'd, to any solid part of the ship, against which he might have beat his head, and have finish'd his disgrace that way. So that being deprived of all other means, he resolv'd to perish for want of food; and pleas'd at last with that thought, and toil'd and tir'd by rage and indignation, he laid himself down and sullenly resolv'd upon dying, and refused all things that were brought him. This did not a little vex the captain, and the more so because he found almost all of 'em of the same humour; so that the loss of so many brave slaves, so tall and goodly to behold, would have been very considerable: he therefore order'd one to go from him (for he would not be seen himself) to Oroonoko, and to assure him he was afflicted for having rashly done so unhospitable a deed, and which could not be now remedied, since they were far from shore; but since he resented it in so high a nature, he assur'd him he would revoke his resolution, and set both him and his friends ashore on the next land they should touch at; and of this the messenger gave him his oath, provided he would resolve to live. And Oroonoko, whose honour was such, as he never had violated a word in his life himself, much less a solemn asseveration, believ'd in an instant what this man said; but reply'd he expected for a confirmation of this to have his shameful fetters dismiss'd. This demand was carried to the captain, who return'd him answer that the offence had been so great which he had put upon the prince, that he durst not trust him with liberty while he remain'd in the ship, for fear lest by a valour natural to him, and a revenge that would animate that valour, he might commit some outrage fatal to himself and the king his master, to whom the vessel did belong. To this Oroonoko reply'd, he would engage his honour to behave himself in all friendly order and manner, and obey the command of the captain, as he was lord of the king's vessel, and general of those men under his command. This was deliver'd to the still doubting captain, who could not resolve to trust a heathen, he said, upon his parole, a man that had no sense or notion of the god that he worshipp'd. Oroonoko then reply'd, he was very sorry to hear that the captain pretended to the knowledge and worship of any gods, who had taught him no better principles than not to credit as he would be credited, but they told him the difference of their faith occasion'd that distrust for the captain had protested to him upon the word of a Christian, and sworn in the name of a great God; which if he should violate, he must expect eternal torments in the world to come. 'Is that all the obliga tions he has to be just to his oath? (reply'd Oroonoko.) Let him know, I swear by my honour; which to violate would not only render me contemptible and despised by all brave and honest men, and so give my self perpetual pain, but it would be eternally offending and displeasing all mankind; harming, betraying, circumventing, and outraging all men. But punishments hereafter are suf fer'd by one's self; and the world takes no cognizance whether this God has reveng'd 'em or not, 'tis done so secretly, and deferr'd so long; while the man of no honour suffers every moment the scorn and contempt of the honester world, and dies every day ignominiously in his fame, which is more valuable than life. I speak not this to move belief, but to shew you how you mistake when you imagine that he who will violate his honour will keep his word with his gods.' So, turning from him with a disdainful smile, he refused to answer him, when he urged him to know what answer he should carry back to his captain; so that he departed without saying any more. The captain pondering and consulting what to do, it was concluded that nothing but Oroonoko's liberty would encourage any of the rest to eat, except the Frenchman, whom the captain could not pretend to keep prisoner, but only told him he was secur'd because he might act something in favour of the prince; but that he should be freed as soon as they came to land. So that they concluded it wholly necessary to free the prince from his irons, that he might shew himself to the rest, that they might have an eye upon him, and that they could not fear a single man. This being resolved, to make the obligation the greater, the captain himself went to Oroonoko, where, after many compliments and assurances of what he had already promis'd, he, receiving from the prince his parole and his hand for his good behaviour, dismiss'd his irons, and brought him to his own cabin, where, after having treated and repos'd him a while (for he had neither eat nor slept in four days before), he besought him to visit those obstinate people in chains, who refused all manner of sustenance; and intreated him to oblige 'em to eat, and assure 'em of their liberty the first opportunity. Oroonoko, who was too generous not to give credit to his words, shew'd himself to his people, who were transported with excess of joy at the sight of their darling prince; falling at his feet, and kissing and embracing 'em; believing, as some divine oracle, all he assur'd 'em. But he besought 'em to bear their chains with that bravery that became those whom he had seen act so nobly in arms; and that they could not give him greater proofs of their love and friendship, since 'twas all the security the captain (his friend) could have against the revenge, he said, they might possibly justly take for the injuries sustained by him. And they all with accord assur'd him that they could not suffer when it was for his repose and safety. After this they no longer refused to eat, but took what was brought 'em, and were pleased with their captivity, since by it they hoped to redeem the prince, who all the rest of the voyage was treated with all the respect due to his birth, tho' nothing could divert his melancholy; and he would often sigh for Imoinda, and think this a punishment due to his misfortune in having left that noble maid behind him that fatal night in the Otan, when he fled to the camp. Possess'd with a thousand thoughts of past joys with this fair young person, and a thousand griefs for her eternal loss, he endur'd a tedious voyage, and at last arrived at the mouth of the river of Surinam, a colony belonging to the king of England, and where they were to deliver some part of their slaves. There the merchants and gentlemen of the country going on board, to demand those lots of slaves they had already agreed on, and, amongst those, the overseers of those plantations where I then chanc'd to be, the captain, who had given the word, order'd his men to bring up those noble slaves in fetters, whom I have spoken of; and having put 'em some in one and some in other lots, with women and children (which they call Pickaninies), they sold 'em off as slaves to several merchants and gentlemen; not putting any two in one lot, because they would separate 'em far from each other; nor daring to trust 'em together, lest rage and courage should put 'em upon contriving some great action, to the ruin of the colony. Oroonoko was first seiz'd on, and sold to our overseer, who had the first lot, with seventeen more of all sorts and sizes, but not one of quality with him. When he saw this, he found what they meant; for, as I said, he understood English pretty well; and being wholly unarm’d and defenceless, so as it was in vain to make any resistance, he only beheld the captain with a look all fierce and disdainful, upbraiding him with eyes that forc'd blushes on his guilty cheeks, and cry'd in passing over the side of the ship: 'Farewel, Sir, 'tis worth my sufferings to gain so true a knowledge, both of you and of your gods, by whom you swear.' And desiring those that held him to forbear their pains, and telling 'em he would make no resistance, he cry'd, 'Come, my fellow-slaves, let us descend, and see if we can meet with more honour and honesty in the next world we shall touch upon.' So he nimbly leapt into the boat, and shewing no more concern, suffer'd himself to be row'd up the river, with his seventeen companions. He re The gentleman that bought him was a young Cornish gentleman, whose name was Trefry; a man of great wit and fine learning, and was carried into those parts by the lord —, Governor, to manage all his affairs. flecting on the last words of Oroonoko to the captain, and beholding the richness of his vest, no sooner came into the boat but he fix'd his eyes on him; and finding something so extraordinary in his face, his shape and mien, a greatness of look, and haughtiness in his air, and finding he spoke English, had a great mind to be enquiring into his quality and fortune; which, though Oroonoko endeavour'd to hide, by only confessing he was above the rank of common slaves, Trefry soon found he was yet something greater than he confess'd; and from that moment began to conceive so vast an esteem for him, that he ever after lov'd him as his dearest brother, and shew'd him all the civilities due to so great a man. Part of the continuation of Oroonoko's story is given at page 63 below in Southerne's dramatised rendering. Elkanah Settle (1648-1724), born at Dunstable, went from Oxford University to London to make a living by his pen, and at eighteen (in 1665) made a hit by his tragedy of Cambyses (printed 1671). To annoy Dryden, Rochester got his high-flown Empress of Morocco played at Whitehall by the court lords and ladies (1671). In Absalom and Achitophel Dryden, enraged and jealous, scourged 'Doeg' with his scorn; and Settle replied, not very effectively, in Absalom Senior, or Achitophel Transpros'd, and Reflections on Some of Mr Dryden's Plays. Love and Revenge, The Conquest of China, Ibrahim or the Illustrious Bassa, and Fatal Love were acted before 1680. For a time petted by the court, he had lost favour and took the Whig side, writing in this cause not merely The Female Prelate, a play on Pope Joan, but a series of pamphlets in Shaftesbury's interest and against the succession of the Duke of York. But in 1683 he was writing down Oates, ridiculing the Popish Plot, denouncing Lord William Russell and Algernon Sidney, and making a Panegyrick of Judge Jeffreys, and (in 1685) issuing a Heroic Poem in honour of James II.'s coronation. Appointed City poet in 1691, in the following years he brought out a series of City pageants. He compiled lives of two impostors and cheats, a pamphlet on the cruelties of the Dutch towards the English in the East Indies, and a 'Pindarick' ode on the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts. The Ladies' Triumph was the last of some eight plays produced between 1694 and 1718; but long ere this their author was writing comicalities for Bartholomew Fair, acting in a booth there, and producing (for a livelihood) elegies and complimentary poems. In 1718 he was admitted to the Charterhouse. Thomas Otway (1652-85), born twelve years after Wycherley, was one of Dryden's younger contemporaries who succeeded where the master had failed; his plays brilliant achievements associated with a melancholy history - sound the tones of deepest tragedy with singular power. Born the son of a clergyman at Trotton near Midhurst in Sussex, Otway proceeded from Winchester College to Christ Church, Oxford, but left in 1672 without taking his degree. The same year he made his appearance as an actor on the London stage. It was an absolute breakdown, but here he doubtless acquired a knowledge of dramatic art which stood him in good stead when he began to write for the theatre. He produced three tragedies, a farce, and a comedy -Alcibiades (1675), Don Carlos (1676; based on the same French romance by St Réal as Schiller's), Titus and Berenice (from Racine; 1677), The Cheats of Scapin (adapted from Molière; 1677), and Friendship in Fashion (1678)—which were successfully performed; but Otway was always in poverty, mainly owing to drink and other kinds of dissipation. Betterton, Mrs Barry, and Mrs Brace girdle were amongst the actors who helped to secure popularity for his plays; it was a lifelong heart-break to the dramatist that Mrs Barry flouted his almost abject devotion to her. The Earl of Plymouth procured him an ensignship in a foot regiment, and the poet went for a year or two to Flanders. He was soon cashiered for his irregularities; and returning to England, he resumed writing for the stage. In 1680 he produced The Orphan and Caius Marius, tragedies; in 1681, The Soldier's Fortune, a comedy full of autobiographical detail; and in 1682, Venice Preserved. The Atheist (1684), a continuation of The Soldier's Fortune, was his last play; and Otway's short but eventful life came to a premature end after twenty years of want and extravagance. One biographer says the THOMAS OTWAY. From an Engraving after a Portrait by Beal. cause of his death was his hastily swallowing, after long fasting, a piece of bread which charity had supplied. Another story makes him die of fever brought on by fatigue or by drinking water when violently heated. Whatever was the last of his misfortunes, he was at the time in great poverty, and apparently skulking from creditors at a publichouse on Tower Hill. The fame of Otway now rests on his two tragedies, The Orphan and Venice Preserved; but on these it rests as on the pillars of Hercules. Scott said his talents in scenes of passionate affection 'rival at least and sometimes excel those of Shakespeare more tears have been shed, probably, for the sorrows of Belvidera and Monimia than for those of Juliet and Desdemona.' This is excessive praise. The inherent indelicacy and unpleasant associations of the plot have driven The Orphan from the theatres; but Venice Preserved was played at Drury Lane so recently as 1829. The stern, plotting character of Pierre is well contrasted with the irresolute, sensitive, and affectionate nature of Jaffier; and the harsh, unnatural cruelty of Priuli serves as a dark shade to set off the bright purity and tenderness of his daughter. Belvidera is Otway's creation, a creation of high dramatic genius. The dramatist's genius shines in his delineation of the passions of the heart, the ardour of love, and the excess of misery and despair. His humour is clumsy and gross, and his comedy is very poor, though the farce is funny and rollicking. There is in Otway little of the rant or bombast Dryden too often admitted. He was partly influenced by French models; there is something classical in the simplicity and skill he shows in the working of his plots, and in his concentration of interest on a few figures or groups of figures; of development of character there is little or none. The versification is sometimes rugged and irregular, and there are plenteous redundancies and inflated expressions, due largely to haste and carelessness. Venice Preserved, which Mr Gosse, like most critics, has praised as simply the greatest tragic drama between Shakespeare and Shelley,' excited keen interest in French, Dutch, German, Russian, and Italian versions. The following extract is the opening of the play; the shorter detached extracts which follow it are all from The Orphan: From Venice Preserved.' Priuli. No more! I'll hear no more; begone and leave me. Jaffier. Not hear me ! by my suffering but you shall! In right, though proud oppression will not hear me? Jaf. Pri. Jaf. |