observation. It is not known for certain that Wyat ever travelled in Italy, but the probability that he did so is strong. Wyat's father, Sir Henry, the owner of Allington castle in Kent, was a prominent figure at the court of Henry VII., and a residence at one of the Italian courts was then a usual part of the education of a young man of rank. Wyat was born in 1503, and we have no record of him between his taking his bachelor's degree at Cambridge at the age of fifteen and his being sworn a member of the privy council at the age of thirty, except that he took part in the tournament at a great feast held by the king at Greenwich in 1525. He was knighted in 1536, and twice sent as ambassador to the emperor, a strong proof of his repute as a statesman and diplomatist. He died in 1542, in the course of a hurried journey to Falmouth to meet and convoy an ambassador from the emperor. Wyat is commonly known as Sir Thomas Wyat the elder, to distinguish him from his son of the same name, who headed an insurrection against Mary in 1554, and paid the penalty of failure.
WYATT, James (1743-1813), a popular architect, born in Staffordshire in 1743, who lived at a time when architectural taste was at its lowest ebb. He spent some time in Rome making measured drawings of the classical remains, and on his return to England became one of the most successful architects of his time, and eventually was elected president of the Royal Academy. On the death of Sir William Chambers in 1796, Wyatt was appointed surveyor to the Board of Works. His chief works were a number of buildings at Kew for George III., all in the worst taste, and Fonthill Abbey for the rich and eccentric Mr Beckford, author of Vathek. This enormous and costly mansion, a sort of theatrical parody of a Gothic abbey, was erected in an incredibly short space of time by relays of workmen labouring day and night. The massive and lofty tower collapsed soon after it was finished, and a great part of this extravagant architectural freak has since been pulled down. James Wyatt was killed by a fall from his carriage in 1813.
WYCHERLEY, William (c. 1640-1715), the typical "Restoration dramatist," and one of the greatest masters of the comedy of repartee, was born about 1640 at Clive, near Shrewsbury, where for several generations his family had been settled on a moderate estate of about £600 a year. Like Vanbrugh, Wycherley spent his early years in France, whither, at the age of fifteen, he was sent to be educated in the very heart of the "precious" circle who disported on the banks of the Charente. Wycherley's friend, Major Pack, tells us that his hero "improved, with the greatest refinements," the "extraordinary talents" for which he was "obliged to nature." Although the harmless affectations of the Rambouillets and Montausiers, among whom he was thrown, are certainty not chargeable with the "refinements" of Wycherley's comedies—comedies which caused even his great admirer Voltaire to say afterwards of them, "II semble que les Anglais prennent trop de libertè et que les Françaises n'en prennent pas assez"—these same affectations seem to have been much more potent in regard to the "refinements" of Wycherley's religion.
Wycherley, though a man of far more intellectual power than is generally supposed, was a fine gentleman first, a responsible being afterwards. Hence under the manipulations of the heroine of the "Garland" he turned from the Protestantism of his fathers to Romanism—turned at once, and with the same easy alacrity as afterwards, at Oxford, he turned back to Protestantism under the manipulations of such an accomplished master in the art of turning as Bishop Barlow. And if, as Macaulay hints, Wycherley's turning back to Romanism once more had something to do with the patronage and unwonted liberality of James II., this merely proves that the deity he worshipped was the deity of the "polite world" of his time—gentility. Moreover, as a professional fine gentleman, at a period when, as the genial Major Pack says, "the amours of Britain would furnish as diverting memoirs, if well related, as those of France published by Rabutin, or those of Nero's court writ by Petronius," Wycherley was obliged to be a loose liver. But, for all that, Wycherley's sobriquet of "Manly Wycherley" seems to have been fairly earned by him, earned by that frank and straightforward way of confronting life which, according to Pope and Swift, characterized also his brilliant successor Vanbrugh.
That effort of Wycherley's to bring to Buckingham's notice the case of Samuel Butler (so shamefully neglected by the court Butler had served) shows that the writer of even such heartless plays as The Country Wife may be familiar with generous impulses, while his uncompromising lines in defence of Buckingham, when the duke in his turn fell into trouble, show that the inventor of so shameless a fraud as that which forms the pivot of The Plain Dealer may in actual life possess that passion for fairplay which is believed to be a specially English quality. But among the "ninety-nine" religions with which Voltaire accredited England there is one whose permanency has never been shaken—the worship of gentility. To this Wycherley remained as faithful to the day of his death as Congreve himself. And, if his relations to that "other world beyond this," which the Puritans had adopted, were liable to change with his environments, it was because that "other world" was really out of fashion altogether.
Wycherley's university career seems also to have been influenced by the same causes. Although Puritanism had certainly not contaminated the universities, yet English "quality and politeness" (to use Major Pack's words) have always, since the great rebellion, been rather ashamed of possessing too much learning. As a fellow-commoner of Queen's College, Oxford, Wycherley only lived (according to Wood) in the provost's lodgings, being entered in the public library under the title of "Philosophiæ Studiosus" in July 1660. And he does not seem to have matriculated or to have taken a degree.
Nor when, on quitting Oxford, he entered himself of the Middle Temple, did he give any more attention to the dry study of the law than was proper to one so warmly caressed "by the persons most eminent for their quality or politeness." Pleasure and the stage were alone open to him, and in 1672 was produced, at the Theatre Royal, Love in a Wood. With regard to this comedy Wycherley told Pope—told him "over and over" till Pope believed him—believed him, at least, until they quarrelled about Wycherley's verses—that he wrote it the year before he went to Oxford. But we need not believe him: the worst witness against a man is mostly himself. To pose as the wicked boy of genius has been the foolish ambition of many writers, but on inquiry it will generally be found that these inkhorn Lotharios are not nearly so wicked as they would have us believe. When Wycherley charges himself with having written, as a boy of nineteen, scenes so callous and so depraved that even Barbara Palmer's appetite for profligacy was, if not satisfied, appeased, there is, we repeat, no need to believe him. Indeed, there is every reason to disbelieve him,—not for the reasons advanced by Macaulay, however, who in challenging Wycherley's date does not go nearly deep enough. Macaulay points to the allusions in the play to gentlemen's periwigs, to guineas, to the vests which Charles ordered to be worn at court, to the great fire, &c., as showing that the comedy could not have been written the year before the author went to Oxford. We must remember, however, that even if the play had been written in that year, and delayed in its production
