10

THE LITTLE DUKE OF MONMOUTH.

The court was diverted by a quarrel between these great ladies when Dryden became the minister to its intellectual pleasures. Mary, the wife of James, fourth Duke of Lennox, and third Duke of Richmond, was related, by her father's side, to the termagant favourite of Charles the Second. These two ladies were cousins. The 'Lady Duchess of Richmond,' as she was called, was the daughter of George Villiers, first Duke of Buckingham. The Countess of Castlemaine was the daughter of Lord Grandison, also a Villiers, and thus descended from a younger branch of that noble family: nevertheless my lady duchess called my lady countess 'Jane Shore,' and said, 'she hoped to see her come to the same end ;' but matters were far from that point at this time; for, shortly after, Lady Castlemaine, quarrelling with her husband, set off for Richmond, taking her plate and jewels with her.

·

We will not follow Pepys in all his enthusiasm at my Lady Castlemaine's 'bravery,' nor in his gossiping with Mrs. Sarah,' my lord's housekeeper, nor in his spying from my lord's lodgings over Whitehall and the Bowling-green, where lords and ladies do play,'-nor of all the back-stairs news he loved so well-how, for instance, Lady Castlemaine had not left her lord one dish, one plate, one servant, save the porter. We will merely digress, just to dwell on the agony of worthier hearts than those of Pepys,-how Roger Palmer, indignantly bearing the title thrust upon him, wished to go off to France and enter a monastery; and how the queen, modest, innocent, gentle, wished to prick' Lady Castlemaine's name out of her list; and how the queen-mother-for the whole episode is the antecedent of George the Fourth and of Lady Jersey-countenanced Lady Castlemaine, and backed her up in the court.

6

It is no wonder that for such a patroness, and for such an audience, Dryden wrote plays which are quite unreadable in the present day.

On the 20th of April, 1663, Pepys, prowling about for gossip, observes the little Duke of Monmouth in his coach

MONMOUTH'S CHARACTER.

11

going to Whitehall to be married. His coat (of arms) was at the tail of his coach, and the king's darling son was permitted, Pepys with virtuous horror perceived, to quarter the arms of England, Scotland and France, without any bar sinister that the worthy Samuel could discover.

The fête on this marriage was one of the most brilliant of Charles's reign. Monmouth was not only the delight of his father's weak heart, but that of the people, who, in those days, were not scandalized at the presence of the bar sinister.

De Grammont describes the Duke of Monmouth's personal appearance and character in the following terms:—

His figure, and the exterior graces of his person, were such, that nature, perhaps, never formed anything more complete. His face was extremely handsome; and yet it was a manly face, neither inanimate nor effeminate; each feature having its beauty and peculiar delicacy. He had a wonderful genius for every sort of exercise, an engaging aspect, and an air of grandeur; in a word, he possessed every personal advantage; but then he was greatly deficient in mental accomplishments. He had no sentiments but such as others inspired him with; and those who first insinuated themselves into his friendship, took care to inspire him with none but such as were pernicious. Those who before were looked upon as handsome, were now forgotten at court; and all the gay and beautiful of the fair sex were at his devotion. He was particularly beloved by the king; but the universal terror of husbands and lovers. This, however, did not long continue; for nature not having endowed him with qualifications to secure the possession of the heart, the fair sex soon perceived the defect.'*

Such was poor Monmouth-a Stuart, it must be owned, in faults and follies, as well as in amiable traits of character. No action of James the Second excites more indignation—and

*De Grammont, vol. ii. p. 256.

12

LADY CASTLEMAINE DRYDEN'S PATRONESS.

that is saying much—than the hard, vindictive, capital punishment inflicted on a vain boy, who was misled by being the idol of his country.

Various inducements decided the king to conclude for his son a marriage with the Lady Anne Scott, the daughter and sole heiress of Francis, Earl of Buccleugh. She was beautiful and intellectual; with a fortune, stated at the lowest by De Grammont, of more than five thousand a year. She, in fact, had the superiority not only in fortune, but in those mental qualities in which the Adonis of the court, Monmouth, was deficient.

A grand ball followed the festivities at Whitehall, and every one remarked that, as the Duke of Monmouth was dancing with the queen with his hat in his hand, the king came in, kissed him, and made him put on his hat.

Pepys, at the King's House to see "The Wild Goose Chace," by Beaumont and Fletcher-sitting by Knipp, whose talk pleased him a little,' heard how finely the Duchess of Monmouth had acted in 'The Indian Emperor' at court; most of the other ladies being stocks and stones; but the praise is nullified in our minds, though not in his, by finding this newly married young girl for ever with Lady Castlemaine-sometimes with the king, mad in hunting a moth away from the candle.' In the midst of all her gaiety, fortunately, perhaps, for herself, the poor duchess broke her leg in 'trying of tricks in dancing,' and had, ever afterwards, one leg shorter than the other.

She continued to be Dryden's patroness. The Indian Emperor,' in which she had performed so ably, was eminently successful; and Dryden was engaged to write three plays a year for the King's House, sharing in the profits to the extent of three or four hundred pounds.

In respect rather to the Duchess than to the Duke of Monmouth, Dryden soon afterwards dedicated to him his "Tyrannic Love,' comparing him to an Achilles, or a Rinaldo,

THE FIRE OF LONDON.

13

who only wanted a Homer or a Tasso to celebrate his fame. We shall see in what a different character Dryden afterwards painted his Grace.

Dryden now occupied as elevated a position as literature could insure to its most fortunate votary. He had many friends, and, at this period, few conspicuous enemies. Most of the lettered nobility of the day were his associates; the Duke of Ormond, the Duke of Newcastle, the Earl of Dorset, Lord Clifford, one of the Cabal, and Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, at this time, though he soon changed, were zealous in promoting his interests.

His happiest hours were perhaps passed in humbler, yet worthier associates;-the blameless, metaphysical Cowley, Denham, d'Avenant, Waller, and even Milton were among the chosen coterie to whom Dryden, in his dedication to the Assignation, alludes, recalling evenings of delicious communion with kindred minds; when conversation was neither too light, nor too serious;—always agreeable, often instructive; raillery, without censure; the memory of the absent, and the dead, respected; whilst the goblet went round often enough and potent enough to inspire wit, but not to disturb the business of the morrow.

'He had not yet,' says Sir Walter Scott,* 'experienced the disadvantages attendant on such society, or learned how soon literary eminence becomes the object of detraction, of envy, of injury, even from those who can best feel its merit, if they are discouraged by dissipated habits from emulating its flight, or hardened by perverted feeling against loving its possessors.' Soon, very soon, did Dryden's career exhibit plainly the truth of this mournful observation.

His prosperity was checked by the Great Fire of London, which occurred in 1666.

A recent conflagration, that in the Borough, has, in some

*Life of Dryden,' p. 114.

14

OLD SAINT PAUL'S CATCHES FIRE.

faint measure, brought home to us the horrors of that time on which Evelyn, on the 2nd of September, 1666, makes the following note in his Diary:

This fatal night began about ten, the deplorable fire near Fish Street, in London.'

On the 3rd he writes: The fire continuing, I took coach with my wife and sonn, and went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole City in dreadfull flames near ye water side: all the houses from the Bridge, all Thames Street and upwards towards Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now consumed.'

All that terrible night-a night light as day for ten miles round-a fearful east wind blew. It carried the flames from the south side of the City-from Cheapside to the Thames, and along Cornhill, Tower Street, Fenchurch Street, Gracechurch Street, and so on to Baynard's Castle-and it now caught St. Paul's Church. This-over the restoration of which Evelyn had been presiding-was surrounded with scaffolding. The king had lately repaired the exquisite portico; 'for structure,' says Evelyn, comparable to any in Europe. The people, paralyzed, stood and saw this grand old entrance burnt entirely, except the inscription on the architrave, which, showing by whom it was built, had not one letter defaced. Vast flakes of stone split asunder; the ornaments, friezes, and columns of Portland stone flew off to the very roof, where a great sheet of lead melted, and the ruins of the vaulted roof broke into St. Faith's: there was a store of books, which remained burning for a week afterwards."* Evelyn thus describes the awe-struck despondency of the citizens, fortified by no master-mind, marshalled by no heroic, exalted Braidwood.

The conflagration was so universal, and the people so astonish'd, that from the beginning, I know not by what de

* Evelyn, vol. i., p. 372.