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and the stage was gradually filled with pieces which deviated more and more from the chasteness and simplicity of nature. Hence proceeded the romantic attachment to rhyming, or heroic plays, cherished and diffused by the writers of that period, with little regard to the legitimate end of tragedy: for how seldom can the heart be interested, where the language bears no resemblance to that of nature, and where the characters and sentiments are equally hypothetical!

Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound, And nature flies him like enchanted ground.

Prol. to Aurengzebe.

With this declaration of the impotence of rhyme, Dryden (once its strenuous advocate) abandoned the use of it in tragedy; and as his example was much regarded by his contemporaries, the ardor for heroic plays was superseded by a more just and rational taste. pp. xxi. xxii.

In 1678, he went to Flanders, with the army commanded by the Duke of Monmouth; having obtained a cornet's commission in a new regiment of horse, by the interest of the Earl of Plymouth. Before his departure, he had made his first effort in comedy, under the title of Friendship in Fashion, which appeared in 1678.

We insert some observations on the subject of Otway's comparative failure in comedy :

It is hardly necessary to observe, that the same powers, which constitute a good writer of tragedy, are not sufficient of themselves to ensure success in the other department of the drama, which depends upon the exertion of talents essentially different. This will, therefore, diminish our surprise at the disproportion of Otway's powers in tragedy and comedy. But in judging of his efforts in the latter, we adopt a rule which he was compelled to disregard. A happy improvement in morals has purified the stage, and proscribed licentiousness; but in Otway's time, indecency, so far from being in disre

pute, was an indispensable quality in a comedy: none, in short, succeeded without it. Writers must conform their taste to that of their audience. If, therefore, the legislators of the drama applauded those scenes most, where grossness constituted the obvious feature, we may charitably suppose that authors often sacrificed, unwillingly, their judgment to their interest. The torrent of immorality, thus unchecked by those to whom it belonged to resist its first encroachments, soon polluted the stage: mirth was excited by profanity, and ribaldry was esteemed as wit. No proof of the depravity of taste to which we allude, can be more convincing, than that "Friendship in Fashion," certainly a most immoral play, is reckoned by Langhaine a very diverting one, and stated to have met with general applause. pp. xxiii. xxiv.

The troops, to which he was attached, being recalled, he returned home in a state of extreme penury, aggravated by the disadvantageous mode of payment to which government had recourse for the discharge of the military appointments.

Poverty was not the only cause of disquietude to Otway. He cherished a hopeless passion for Mrs. Barry, an actress of considerable eminence, respecting whom we shall take occasion to say more hereafter.

Being now returned to his native country, he published, in 1680, The History and fall of Caius Marius, on which he had been occupied while he was abroad. Considerable part of this play was borrowed from Shakspeare's Romeo and Juliet; and it was written with a reference to the political troubles of the author's own times. In the same year, appeared. The Poet's Complaint of his Muse; and also THE ORPHAN. This work was an indisputable proof of his supreme command over the passions, of which some evidence had broken

forth in different parts of Caius Marius. In this place the editor justly censures the vulgar and envious ribaldry which Voltaire has aimed at this play. The strictures of this writer we remember to have read several years ago, with profound contempt. The mode of criticism that he adopts is, to disfigure the harmony of English blank verse, by translating it into French prose, and to supply vulgarity where it is wanting. In this malignant attempt, he failed as ingloriously as he had already done in his attack on Shakspeare. The punishment for his sacrilege to our immortal monarch of the drama awaited him from a female hand;' and he cowered under the castigation that he had merited.

His next literary birth was The Soldier's Fortune, in 1681, which, although it "obtained extraordinary success, and produced both profit and reputation to the Theatre," appears to have given more pleasure to the public than profit to the author.

Otway, notwithstanding, appears now to have felt sufficiently the irksomeness of his profession. It is not difficult to conceive the pangs which he endured, with a spirit not yet inured to want, or subdued by adversity. Exposed by his situation, as an author, to the shafts of malice; alternately elevated with promises, and dejected by scorn and neglect; caressed for his wit, and despised for his poverty; we must not wonder that these complicated vexations and disgusts should engender those gloomy feelings which he describes in the epilogue:

With the discharge of passions much opprest, [breast, Disturb'd in brain, and pensive in his [unhappy sad,

Full of those thoughts which make th' And by imagination half grown mad, The poet led abroad his mourning muse, &c.-p. xxxv.

The ground-work of the plot of Venice Preserved, the author's next play, which came out in 1682, with a very prosperous result, was taken from an historical work of St. Réal. This play, like Caius Marius, was written with a view to party satire, as well as personal interest; and requiring more vigor of character and a loftier tenor of sentiment, than the subject of the Orphan, it af forded a visible test of the improvement that Otway's powers were daily receiving, as experience and life gradually advanced.

Notwithstanding the poet's assiduity in composition, he was almost constantly involved in poverty. The author's share in the profits of the Theatre was, at that time, much inferior to the sums now derived from a successful drama; and Otway's habits were not perhaps favorable to the practice of economy. We give the words of his biographer:

Such was the exhausted state of his finances, that these, we have reason to think, were often anticipated before they arrived. In the epilogue to "Caius Marius," he talks of offering to pawn his third day for fifty pounds. With poverty came all those attendant ills which a generous spirit feels more acutely than actual privation: neglect; wrongs real and imaginary; the altered eye of friends: but above all, he secretly pined under that hopeless passion, whose stubbornness refused to yield to the most provoking scorn. Besides these evils, the obscure allusions contained in the epilogue to "Venice Preserved," indicate how many enemies his writings had produced, and his apprehensions of their resorting to some dastardly method of revenge,

Poets in honor of the truth should write, With the same spirit brave men for it fight;

Mrs. Montagu's Essay on Shakspeare.

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'Tis what he knows with much contempt to bear,

[fear:

And serves a canse too good to let him
He fears no poison from an incens'd drab,
No ruffian's five-foot sword, nor rascal's
stab ;

Nor any other snares of mischief laid,
Not a Rose-alley cudgel-ambuscade ;'
From any private cause where malice
reigns,
[brains.

Or general pique all blockheads have to

Perhaps the accumulated disgusts arising from these different sources, renewed in Otway an attachinent to his early habits of inebriety; and if we do not arm our minds with stoical apathy, compassion for the frailty of human nature will incline us to regard this constitutional infirmity of our author, as entitled to some excuse, from his severe sufferings. When nature seems to sink beneath the pressure of distress, and not a ray of hope can penetrate the gloom of futurity, mankind are often driven by despair to seek a refuge from intolerable thought in the smiles of the bottle. Thus it fared with poor Otway; he saw himself banished, in appearance for ever, from the mild delights of life, and snatched eagerly at the transient joys which intemperance afforded. It is a precipice, the paths to which, though often trod, are still imperceptible.Pp. xli-iii.

The Atheist, a sequel to the Soldier's Fortune, and his last dramatic production, was represented in 1683, or at the beginning of 1684. At the death of Charles II. in Feb. 1685, Otway followed the example of his contemporaries, and offered his poetical incense to his successor. This adulation produced

no beneficial result to its author; and the term of his mortal career was at hand. Mr. Thornton ob

serves:

Deeply involved in pecuniary engagements, Otway had, for some time past, withdrawn from the importunate clamors of his creditors, to an obscure public-house, the sign of the Bull, on Tower-Hill. It was at this place, remote from the knowledge of those who could assist him, that he expired, at the premature age of 34, his body was conveyed to the church on the 14th April, 1635. From thence of St. Clement Danes, and there deposited in a vault.—pp. xlv. vi.

Varying accounts have been circulated of the immediate cause of his death, but the following narrative seems to be now authenticated:

Our author had an intimate friend who was murdered in the street. To revenge the deed, he pursued the assassin, who fled to France. Otway followed him, on foot, as far as Dover, where he was seized with a fever, occasioned by the fatigues he had undergone, which soon carried him to his grave in London.3 How must every mind of sensibility exult that this record has been rescued from oblivion! Such a sacrifice to affection is highly creditable to the moral character of our author, and shows that the ardor of private friendship, which glows with so much enthusiasm in "The Orphan,” and "Venice Preserved," was not a fiction of the poet; but entered, in a very remarkable degree, into the character of the man.-pp. xlvii-xlviii.

As a specimen of the editor's critical remarks, we subjoin the ensuing passages:

We find that the chief objections to

1 The attack upon Dryden. See note, vol. iii. p. 95. Dryden and our author were now, probably, reconciled.

2 This gave rise to the ill-natured remark of Dennis, that "Otway died in an ale-house."

3 "Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope," vol. ii. Spence derived the anecdote from Dennis, the critic. The name of Otway's friend was Blakiston. At his return to London, he drank water, which occasioned his death.

Otway's tragedies are, that they do not conform strictly to the rules of the Drama; that the language wants elevation the ampullas et sesquipedulia verba of Horace,-and that some of the scenes are debased by unseasonable mirth. The instances of the first are unimportant; and he has already been resigned, for the latter offence, to the severity of criticism. But with regard to the language, he was confined, by his subjects, to a familiarity of style; for the pathetic sentiments of distress would be very unsuitably clothed in an ornamented diction.

Tragicus plerumque dolet șermone pedestri.

HOR.

Some parts, however, of the dialogue of "Venice Preserved,' are highly poetical; but Otway's skill was almost wholly displayed in the pathetic; in the plaintive language of distress, and the soothing tones of affection.

The only writers who approach him in this respect, are Southern, and Rowe. "The Fatal Marriage" of the former, exhibits distresses almost too strong for the feelings; but the sentiments want that peculiar tenderness, which, in Otway, produces a sorrow combined with the most exalted pleasure. The uniform harmony of numbers, for which Rowe is so much admired, somewhat enervates his sentiments, and produces an effect not altogether consonant with genuine sympathy. Rowe acquired, by art and industry, an excellence which Otway derived immediately from nature. the works of the latter, we must not seek those charms which are supplied by study and application; but it may be doubted, whether by a larger acquaintance with critical knowledge, they would not have lost in energy what they might have gained by regularity and accuracy: as the vigor of a plant is sometimes destroyed by an over-solicitude to restrain its luxuriance.

In

The acquisitions of our author were certainly not extensive; but to affirm without limitation, that he possessed "no learning," is rather inconsistent with the fact of his having received a

ledged his ignorance of the Tuscan regular education. He has acknowlanguage; but he was fully conversant with French literature, at that time the most fashionable study. His classical knowledge was principally confined to the Latin authors; and of these, Ovid, Petronius, and Catullus, seem to have been his favorites. With the Greek language he was not probably very familiar. Dr. Warton asserts, "it is remarkable that there is not a single line in Otway from the Greek tragedies." But with deference to the opinion of so great a critic, there appears sufficient resemblance, in the two following instances, to render the question at least doubtful.—“The Orphan" concludes with this sentiment:

'Tis thus that heav'n its empire does maintain,

[plain. It may afflict, but man must not com

Edipus, in Euripides, employs one exactly similar.

̓Αλλὰ γὰρ τί ταῦτα θρηνῶ καὶ μάτην ὀδύρομαι;
Τὰς γὰρ ἐκ θεῶν ἀνάγκας θνητὸν ὄντα δεί φέρειν·
Phænissæ, v. 1749-50.

The other is in the same play:
Acasto addresses Chamont-

Fine speeches are the instruments of
knaves,
[good sense;

Or fools, that use 'em when they want
But honesty
[plain.
Needs no disguise nor ornament. Be

Απλοῦς ὁ μῦθος τῆς ἀληθείας ἔφυ,
Κοὐ ποικίλων δεῖ τὰ ἔνδιχ ̓ ἑρμηνευμάτων,
Ἔχει γὰρ αὐτὰ καιρόν· ὁ δ ̓ ἄδικος λόγος,
Νοσῶν ἐν αὐτῷ, φαρμάκων δεῖται σοφῶν·

Phanissæ, v. 472-475.

The occurrence of two resemblances so strong as the preceding in one piece, may justify a suspicion that the Greek tragedies were not wholly unexplored by Otway.—pp. lvii-lix.

We suspect that a vigilant observer could find more coincidences both with Greek and Italian literature. Several lines in the Prologue to Don Carlos might bear an allusion to the μεταβολὴ πάντων γλυκὺ of Euripides; and the expression of

pleasing harms in The Orphan, rienced neglect, upon the appearance might refer to the

Dannoso piacer ed util danno

in Petrarch. We might add other instances, unless it were our wish to avoid the charge of displaying fanciful analogies.

The Letters to Mrs. Barry are inserted near the end of the third volume. We extract some particulars relative to this lady, from the Life of Otway in vol. i.

The strong attachment which Otway discovered for Mrs. Barry, seems to have commenced at that early period, when both were unsuccessful candidates for histrionic fame. This actress, who subsequently gained so great a reputation, was the daughter of a Colonel Barry, whose property having been sacrificed during the civil wars, in the service of the King, he was unable to maintain his family in independence. His daughter was educated at the expense of Lady Davenant, with whom she constantly resided, and acquired that knowledge of polished life and manners, from which she afterwards derived so important an advantage. By the advice and recommendation of this lady (when she could not have been more than sixteen,) she tried the stage; but the disadvantages under which she labored were very discouraging. At this period she was noticed by Lord Rochester, who was soon captivated by her sense and accomplishments; and had discernment to prognosticate her future excellence, and ability to remedy, by his judicious instructions, the defects in her pronunciation and delivery, which hindered the display of her powers. His affection he retained for her till his death; with more constancy than might have been expected from his character. Our author's acquaintance with this lady commencing when her prospects contained little that could sooth her vanity, his addresses were, probably, not repelled; but they soon expe

of a rival so lavishly endowed with attractions as Rochester. Otway, however, not daunted by so unpropitious an event, still continued the pursuit; and endured, with as much calmness as his impatient temper would permit, the caprices of a woman who contemned him, and whose private life was not very amiable. This disappointment of a passion which appears to have taken firm hold of his heart, caused him abundance of disquietude; and gave a tender cast of melancholy to the love-scenes in his succeeding tragedies, especially where the subjects of neglect or scorn were introduced. What singularly tended to nourish the flame in his breast, was Mrs. Barry's frequent performance of Monimia and Belvidera. The force and feeling she gave to the pathetic sentiments in those characters, drew tears from the greater part of her audience; and must have had a romantic effect upon Otway, who heard his own sentiments delivered in the moving tones of one he so passionately admired. This unconquerable attachment produced those ardent and eloquent epistles, which are certainly the finest specimens of Otway's prose compositions.'--pp. xxvii-xxix.

The letters are introduced with these observations:

These singular productions were first published among a collection of "Familiar Letters by Lord Rochester and others, &c." 8vo. 1697; and were afterwards subjoined to an edition of Otway's Works in 1727, under the title of "Love Letters." They have no superscription, but were written to Mrs. Barry, the actress; for whom, as we have before noticed, the poet cherished a passion which greatly embittered the latter period of his short unhappy life. It is probable that these Letters will be read by different persons with opposite sentiments. Those who have struggled with similar emotions, will find most interest in them;

There are some passages in these letters (particularly the second,) not inferior, in pathos and eloquence, to his tragedies.

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