The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland/Volume 4/Mr. John Dennis
Mr. John Dennis.
This celebrated critic was born in London in the year 1657, his father being a Sadler, and an eminent citizen.[1]
He received his early education at Harrow on the Hill, under the pious and learned Dr. William Horn, having for his ſchoolfellows many young noblemen, who afterwards made a conſiderable figure in the ſtate. He removed from Harrow to Caius College in Cambridge, where he was admitted January 13, 1675, in the 18th year of his age. In due time Mr. Dennis took the degree of bachelor of arts, and after quitting the univerſity he indulged a paſſion which he had entertained for travelling, and ſet out for France and Italy. In the courſe of his travels he, no doubt, made ſuch obſervations upon the government and genius of the people whom he viſited, as enabled him to make a juſt compariſon between foreign ſtates and his own country. In all probability, while he was in France and Italy, he conceived an abhorrence of deſpotic government, the effects of which he then had an opportunity more intimately to diſcern; for he returned home ſtill more confirmed in Whig principles, by which his political conduct was ever governed.
Our author in his early years became acquainted with ſome of the brighteſt geniuſes which then illuminated the regions of wit, ſuch as Dryden, Wycherly, Congreve, and Southern. Their converſation was in itſelf ſufficient to divert his mind from the acquiſition of any profitable art, or the exerciſe of any profeſſion. He ranked himſelf amongſt the wits, and from that moment held every attainment in contempt, except what related to poetry, and taſte.
Mr. Dennis, by the inſtances of zeal which he gave for the Proteſtant ſucceſſion in the reign of King William, and Queen Anne, obtained the patronage of the duke of Marlborough, who procured him the place of one of the Queen’s waiters in the Cuſtom-houſe, worth 120 l. per annum, which Mr. Dennis held for ſix years. During the time he attended at the Cuſtom-houſe, he lived ſo profuſely, and managed his affairs with ſo little oeconomy, that in order to diſcharge ſome preſſing demands, he was obliged to diſpoſe of his place. When the earl of Hallifax, with whom he had the honour of being acquainted, heard of Mr. Dennis’s deſign, he ſent for him, and in the moſt friendly manner, expoſtulated with him upon the folly, and raſhneſs of diſpoſing of his place, by which (ſays his lordſhip) you will ſoon become a beggar. Mr. Dennis repreſented his exigences, and the preſſing demands that were then made upon him: which did not however ſatisfy his lordſhip, who inſiſted if he did ſell it, it ſhould be with ſome reverſion to himſelf for the ſpace of forty years, a term which the earl had no notion Mr. Dennis could exceed. But he was miſtaken in his calculation upon our poet’s conſtitution, who outlived the term of forty years ſtipulated when he ſold his place, and fulfilled in a very advanced age, what his lordſhip had propheſied would befal him. This circumſtance our author hints at in his dedication of his poem on the Battle of Ramellies, to lord Hailifax, ‘I have lately, ſays he, had very great obligations to your lordſhip, you have been pleaſed to take ſome care of my fortune, at a time when I moſt wanted it, and had the leaſt reaſon to expect it from you.’ This poem on the Battle of Ramellies is a cold unſpirited performance; it has neither fire, nor elevation, and is the true poetical filler of another poem of his, on the Battle of Blenheim, addreſſed to Queen Anne, and for which the duke of Marlborough rewarded him, ſays Mr. Coxeter, with a preſent of a hundred guineas. In theſe poems he has introduced a kind of machinery; good and bad angels intereſt themſelves in the action, and his hero, the duke of Marlborough, enjoys a large ſhare of the cœleflial protection.
Mr. Dennis had once contracted a friendſhip[2] with Sir Richard Steele, whom he afterwards ſeverely attacked. Sir Richard had promiſed that he would take ſome opportunity of mentioning his works in public with advantage, and endeavour to raiſe his reputation. When Sir Richard engaged in a periodical paper, there was a fair occaſion of doing it, and accordingly in one of his Spectators he quotes the following couplet, which he is pleaſed to call humorous, but which however is a tranſlation from Boileau.
One fool lolls his tongue out at another,
And ſhakes his empty noddle at his brother.
The citation of this couplet Mr. Dennis imagined, was rather meant to affront him, than pay a compliment to his genius, as he could diſcover nothing excellent in the lines, and if there was, they being only a tranſlation, in ſome meaſure abated the merit of them. Being fired with reſentment at this affront, he immediately, in a ſpirit of fury, wrote a letter to the Spectator, in which he treated him with very little ceremony, and informed him, that if he had been ſincere in paying a compliment to him, he ſhould have choſen a quotation from his poem on the Battle of Ramellies; he then points out a particular paſſage, of which he himſelf had a very high opinion, and which we ſhall here inſert as a ſpecimen of that performance.
A cœleſtial ſpirit viſits the duke of Marlborough the night before the battle, and after he has ſaid ſeveral other things to him, goes on thus,
A wondrous victory attends thy arms,
Great in itſelf, and in its ſequel vaſt;
Whoſe ecchoing ſound thro’ all the Weſt ſhall run,
Tranſporting the glad nations all around,
Who oft ſhall doubt, and oft ſuſpend their joy,
And oft imagine all an empty dream;
The conqueror himſelf ſhall cry amaz’d,
’Tis not our work, alas we did it not;
The hand of God, the hand of God is here!
For thee, ſo great ſhall be thy high renown,
That fame ſhall think no muſic like thy name;
Around the circling globe it ſhall be ſpread,
And to the world’s laſt ages ſhall endure;
And the moſt lofty, moſt aſpiring man,
Shall want th’ aſſurance in his ſecret prayers
To ask ſuch high felicity and fame,
As Heav’n has freely granted thee; yet this
That ſeems ſo great, ſo glorious to thee now,
Would look how low, how vile to thy great mind,
If I could ſet before th’ aſtoniſh’d eyes,
Th’ exceſs of glory, and th’ exceſs of bliſs
That is prepar’d for thy expiring ſoul,
When thou arriv’ſt at everlaſting day.
The quotation by Mr. Dennis is longer, but we are perſuaded the reader will not be diſpleaſed that we do not take the trouble to tranſcribe the whole, as it does not improve, but rather grows more languid. How ſtrangely are people deceived in their own productions! In the language of ſincerity we cannot diſcover a poetical conception, one ſtriking image, or one animated line in the above, and yet Mr. Dennis obſerves to Sir Richard Steele, that theſe are the lines, by quoting which, he would really have done him honour.
But Mr. Dennis’s reſentment did not terminate here; he attempted to expoſe a paper in the Spectator upon dramatic conduct, in which the author endeavours to ſhew that a poet is not always obliged to diſtribute poetical juſtice on this very reaſonable account, that good and evil happen alike to all men on this ſide the grave. To this propoſition our critic objects, ‘that it is not only a very falſe, but a dangerous aſſertion, that we neither know what men really are, nor what they ſuffer. Beſides, ſays he, let it be conſidered, that a man is a creature, who is created immortal, and a creature conſequently that will find a compenſation in futurity, for any ſeeming inequality in his deſtiny here; but the creatures of a poetical creator, are imaginary, and tranſitory; they have no longer duration than the repreſentation of their reſpective fables, and conſequently if they offend, they muſt be puniſhed during that repreſentation, and therefore we are very far from pretending, that poetical juſtice is an equal repreſentation of the juſtice of the Almighty.’ In ſupport of this opinion our critic produces the example of Euripides, and the beſt poets amongſt the ancients, who practiſed it, and the authority of Ariſtotle, who eſtabliſhed the rule. But nature, or Shakeſpear, which is another word for nature, is by no means in favour of this equal diſtribution. No character can be repreſented in tragedy abſolutely perfect, as no ſuch character exiſts; but a character which poſſeſſes more virtues than vices, may be upon the whole amiable, and yet with the ſtricteſt propriety may be made the chief ſufferer in the drama. If any paſſion ſtrongly predominates in the heart of man, it will often expoſe him to ſuch ſnares, entangle him in ſuch difficulties, and oppreſs him with ſuch wants, that in the very nature of things, he muſt ſink under the complicated weight of miſery. This may happen to a character extremely amiable, the paſſion which governs him may be termed unhappy, but not guilty, or if it ſhould partake the nature of guilt, fallible creatures cannot always combat with ſucceſs againſt guilty paſſions.
The drama being an imitation of nature, the poet cauſes a compoſition of characters formed in his imagination to be repreſented by players; theſe characters charm, or diſpleaſe, not only for what they do; during the repreſentation of the fable, but we love, or hate them for what they have done before their appearance; and we dread, or warmly expect the conſequences of their reſolutions after they depart the ſtage. The illuſion would not be ſufficiently ſtrong, if we did not ſuppoſe the dramatic perſons equally accountable to the powers above us, as we are ourſelves. This Shakeſpear has taken care forcibly to impreſs upon his audience, in making the ghoſt of the murthered king of Denmark, charge his ſon not to touch his mother’s life, but leave her to heaven; and the reflexions of her own conſcience to goad and ſting her.
Mr. Dennis’s reaſoning, upon the whole amounts to this, that no perfect character ſhould ſuffer in the drama; to which it may be anſwered, that no perfect character ever did ſuffer in the drama; becauſe no poet who draws from nature, ever introduced one, for this very good reaſon, that there are none in exiſtence.
Mr. Dennis, who was reſtleſs in attacking thoſe writers, who met with ſucceſs, levelled ſome more criticiſms againſt the Spectators; and amongſt the reſt endeavoured to expoſe Mr. Addiſon’s Illuſtrations of the Old Ballad, called Chevy Chace; of which we ſhall only ſay, that he performed this talk more ſucceſsfully than he executed his Animadverſions upon Poetical Juſtice.
We have already taken notice of the warm attachment Mr. Dennis always had to the Whig-Intereſt, and his particular zeal for the Hanoverian ſucceſſion. He wrote many letters and pamphlets, for the adminiſtration of the earl of Godolphin, and the duke of Marlborough, and never failed to laſh the French with all the ſeverity natural to him.
When the peace (which the Whigs reckoned the moſt inglorious that ever was made) was about to be ratified, Mr. Dennis, who certainly over-rated his importance, took it into his imagination, that when the terms of peace ſhould be ſtipulated, ſome perſons, who had been moſt active againſt the French, would be demanded by that nation as hoſtages; and he imagined himſelf of importance enough to be made choice of, but dreaded his being given up to the French, as the greateſt evil that could befall him. Under the influence of this ſtiong deluſion, he actually waited on the duke of Marlborough, and begg’d his grace’s interpoſition, that he might not be ſacrificed to the French, for ſays he, ‘I have always been their enemy.’ To this ſtrange requeſt, his grace very gravely replied, ‘Do not fear, Mr. Dennis, you ſhall not be given up to the French; I have been a greater enemy to them than you, and you ſee I am not afraid of being ſacrificed, nor am in the leaſt diſturbed.’ Mr. Dennis upon this retired, well ſatisfied with his grace’s anſwer, but there ſtill remained upon his ſpirits a dread of his becoming a prey to ſome of the enemies of Great Britain.
He ſoon after this retired into the country, to ſpend ſome time at a friend’s houſe. While he was walking one day by the ſea ſide, he ſaw a ſhip in full fail approaching towards the ſhore, which his diſtracted imagination dictated, was a French ſhip ſent to carry him off. He hurried to the gentleman’s houſe with the utmoſt precipitation, upbraided him with treachery, as being privy to the attempts of the French againſt his life, and without ceremony quitted his houſe, and poſted to London, as faſt as he could.
Mr. Dennis, who never cared to be an unconcerned ſpectator, when any buſineſs of a public or important nature was in agitation, entered the liſts with the celebrated Mr. Sacheverel, who in the year 1702 publiſhed at Oxford a piece called the Political Union, the purport of which was to ſhew, that the Church and the State are invariably connected, and that the one cannot ſubſiſt without the other. Mr. Dennis in anſwer to this, in a letter to a member of parliament, with much zeal, force of argument, and leſs ferocity than uſual, endeavours to overthrow the propoſition, and ſhew the danger of prieſtcraft, both to religion and government.
In this letter he very ſenſibly obſerves, ‘That ſince the very ſpirit of the chriſtian religion, is the ſpirit of union and charity, it follows by conſequence, that a ſpirit of diviſion, is a ſpirit of malice, and of the Devil. A true ſon of the church, is he who appears moſt for union, who breathes nothing but charity; who neglects all worldly greatneſs to bear his maſter’s yoke; and who has learned of him to be meek and lowly of heart.’
He ſhews that the moderate part of the Church of England are the trueſt church; and that violent party which differs from the moderate ought to be called Diſſenters, becauſe they are at a greater diſtance from charity, which is the characteriſtric of a true church, than any Diſſenters. By which, ſays he, ‘It appears that Mr. Sacheverel has made a rod to whip himſelf, for if only the true Church of England is to remain, and if the moderate part is the true church, the moſt violent ought the leaſt to be tolerated, becauſe they differ from charity; and conſequently are more ready to diſturb the public peace.’
In 1703 he publiſhed propoſals for putting a ſpeedy end to the war, by ruining the commerce of the French and Spaniards, and ſecuring our own without any additional expence to the nation. This was thought a very judicious, and well deſigned plan.
In 1706 our author publiſhed an Eſſay on the Italian Opera, in which, with an irreſiſtable force, he ſhews the extreme danger that a generous nation is expoſed to, by too much indulging effeminate muſic. In the preface he quotes a paſſage from Boileau, in which that ſatiriſt expreſſes himſelf with much ſeverity againſt emaſculating diverſions; and the Italian muſic in particular.
He obſerves, ‘That the modern Italians have the very ſame ſun and ſoil with the antient Romans, and yet are their manners directly oppoſite. Their men are neither virtuous, wiſe, or valiant, and they who have reaſon to know their women, never truſt them out of their ſight. ’Tis impoſſible to give any reaſon for ſo great a difference between the antient Romans, and the modern Italians, but only luxury; and the reigning luxury of modern Italy, is that ſoft and effeminate muſic, which abounds in the Opera.’
In this Eſſay Mr. Dennis remarks, that entertainments entirely made up of muſic can never inſtruct the mind, nor promote one excellent purpoſe in human nature. ‘Perhaps, ſays he, the pride and vanity that is in mankind, may determine the generality to give into muſic, at the expence of poetry. Men love to enjoy their pleaſures entirely, and not to have them reſtrained by awe, or curbed by mortification. Now there are but few judicious ſpectators at our dramatic repreſentations, ſince none can be ſo, but who with great endowments of nature have had a very generous education; and the reſt are frequently mortified, by paſſing fooliſh judgments: But in muſic the caſe is vaſtly different; to judge of that requires only uſe, and a fine ear, which the footman oft has a great deal finer than his maſter. In ſhort, a man without common ſenſe may very well judge of what a man writes without common-ſenſe, and without common-ſenſe compoſes.’ He then inquires what the conſequence will be if we baniſh poetry, which is, that taſte, politeneſs, erudition and public ſpirit will fall with it, and all for a Song.
The declenſion of poetry in Greece and Rome was ſoon followed by that of liberty and empire; according to Roſcommon in his Eſſay on Tranſlated Verſe.
And when they fail, portend approaching fate:
For that which Rome to conqueſt did inſpire,
Was not the Veſtal, but the Muſes fire;
Heav’n joins the bleſſings, no declining age
E’er felt the raptures of poetic rage.
In 1711 Mr. Dennis publiſhed an Eſſay upon Public Spirit, being a ſatire in proſe, upon the Manners and Luxury of the Times, the chief ſources of our preſent Parties and Diviſions. This is one of the moil finiſhed performances of our author; the intention is laudable, and the execution equal to the goodneſs of the deſign. He begins this Eſſay, with a definition of the love of our country, ſhews how much the phraſe has been proſtituted, and how ſeldom underſtood, or practiſed in its genuine ſenſe. He then observes how deſtructive it is to indulge an imitation of foreign faſhions; that faſhions are often followed by the manners of a people from whom they are borrowed; as in the beginning of king Charles the IId's reign. After the general diſtraction which was immediately conſequent upon the Reſtoration, lord Halifax informs us, the people began to ſhake off their ſlavery in point of dreſs, and to be aſhamed of their ſervility in that particular; ‘and that they might look the more, ſays his lordſhip, like a diſtinct people, they threw off their faſhions, and put on veſts: The French did not like this independence, this flight ſhewn to their taſte, as they thought it portended no good to their politics, conſidering that it is a natural introduction, firſt to make the world their aſſes, that they may afterwards make them their ſlaves. They ſent over the ducheſs of Portſmouth, who, beſides many other commiſſions, bore one to laugh us out of our veſts, which ſhe performed ſo effectually, that in a moment we were like ſo many footmen, who had quitted their maſters livery, we took it again, and returned to our old ſervice. So that the very time of doing this gave a very critical advantage to France, ſince it looked like an evidence of returning to their intereſts, as well as their faſhions.’
After giving this quotation from the marquis of Halifax, he proceeds to inveigh againſt the various kinds of luxury, in which people of faſhion indulge themſelves.
He obſerves that luxury has in a particular manner been deſtructive to the ladies: ‘That artificial dainties raiſe in their conſtitutions fierce ebullitions, and violent emotions, too rude for the delicate texture of their fibres; and for half the year together, they neither take any air, nor uſe any exerciſe to remove them. From hence diſtempers of body and mind; from hence an infinity of irregular deſires, unlawful amours, intrigues, vapours, and whimſies, and all the numerous, melancholy croud of deep hyſterical ſymptoms; from hence it comes to paſs that the fruit of their bodies lie in them like plants in hot-beds; from hence it proceeds that our Britiſh maids, who in the time of our Henrys, were not held marriageable till turned of twenty, are now become falling ripe at twelve, and forced to prematureneſs, by the heat of adventitious fire. Nor has luxury only changed our natures, but transformed our ſexes: We have men that are more ſoft, more languid, and more paſſive than women. On the other ſide we have women, who, as it were in revenge, are maſculine in their deſires, and maſculine in their practices.’
In a pretty advanced age Mr. Dennis, who then laboured under ſevere neceſſities, publiſhed two volumes of Letters, by ſubſcription, which are by far the moſt entertaining part of his writings. They have more ſprightlineſs and force in them than, from reading his other works, we would be diſpoſed to imagine. They are addreſſed to perſons diſlinguiſhed by their fortune, genius, and exalted ſtation; the duke of Marlborough, the lord Lanſdowne, earl of Godolphin, earl of Halifax, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Prior, Mr. Wychcrley, Henry Cromwel, Eſq; Walter Moyle, Eſq; and Sir Richard Blackmore. He entitles them Letters, Moral and Critical. The Critical are chiefly imployed upon Mr. Addiſon’s Cato, which he cenſures in ſome places with great juſtice, and critical propriety: In other places he only diſcovers ſpleen, and endeavours to burleſque noble paſſages, merely from reſentment to the author.
There is likewiſe publiſhed amongſt theſe letters, an enquiry into the genius and writings of Shakeſpear. He contends for Shakeſpear’s ignorance of the antients, and obſerves, that it would derogate much from his glory to ſuppoſe him to have read, or underſtood them, becauſe if he had, his not practiſing their art, and not reſtraining the luxuriance of his imagination would be a reproach to him. After beſtowing the higheſt panegyric upon Shakeſpear, he ſays, ‘That he ſeems to have been the very original of our Engliſh tragical harmony; that is the harmony of blank verſe, diverſified often by diſſyllable and triſyllable terminations. For that diverſity diſtinguiſhes it from heroic harmony, and bringing it nearer to common uſe, makes it more proper to gain attention, and more fit for action, and dialogue. Such verſes we make when we are writing proſe, we make ſuch verſe in common converſation.’
One of the reaſons Mr. Dennis aſſigns for Shakeſpear’s want of learning, is, that Julius Cæſar, in the play which goes by his name, makes but a third rate figure, and had he (ſays the author) conſulted the Latin writers, he could net have been guilty of ſuch an error; but this is far from being concluſive, which might as well be owing to his having a contempt for Cæſar’s character, and an enthuſiaſtic admiration for thoſe of Brutus and Caſſius.
Another proſe Eſſay of Mr. Dennis’s, which does him very great honour, is his Grounds of Criticiſm in Poetry. Amongſt many maſterly things, which he there advances, is the following. ‘The antient poets (ſays he) derived that advantage which they have over the moderns, to the conſtituting their ſubjects after a religious manner; and from the precepts of Longinus, it appears that the greateſt ſublimity is to be derived from religious ideas.’
Mr. Dennis then obſerves, that one of the principal reaſons, that has made the modern poetry ſo contemptible, if, that by diverting itſelf of religion, it is fallen from its dignity, and its original nature and excellence; and from the greateſt production in the mind of man, it is dwindled to an extravagant, and vain amuſement. When ſubjects are in themſelves great, the ideas of the writer muſt likewiſe be great; and nothing is in its nature ſo dignified as religion. This he illuſtrates by many examples from Milton, who when he raiſes his voice to heaven, and ſpeaks the language of the divinity, then, does he reach the true ſublime; but when he deſcends to the more trifling conſideration of human things, his wing is neceſſarily depreſſed, and his ſtrains are leſs tranſporting.
We ſhall now take a view of Mr. Dennis, in that part of his life and writings, in which he makes a leſs conſiderable figure, by expoſing himſelf to the reſentment of one ſo much his ſuperior; and who, after a long provocation, at laſt let looſe his rage againſt him, in a manner that no time can obliterate. Mr. Dennis we have already obſerved, waged a perpetual war with ſucceſsful writers, except thoſe few who were his friends; but never engaged with ſo much fury, and leſs juſtice, againſt the writings of any poet, as thoſe of Mr. Pope.
Some time after the death of Dryden, when Pope’s reputation began to grow, his friends who were ſanguine in his intereſt, were imprudent enough to make compariſons, and really aſſert, that Pope was the greateſt poet of the two: Dennis, who had made court to Dryden, and was reſpected by him, heard this with indignation, and immediately exerted all the criticiſm and force of which he was maſter, to reduce the character of Pope. In this attempt he neither has ſucceeded, nor did he purſue it like a gentleman.
In his reflexions on Pope’s Eſſay on Criticiſm, he uſes the following unmannerly epithets. ‘A young ſquab, ſhort gentleman, whoſe outward form tho’ it ſhould be that of a downright monkey, would not differ ſo much from human ſhape, as his unthinking, immaterial part does from human underſtanding.He is as ſtupid and as venemous as an hunch-backed toad.A book through which folly and ignorance, thoſe brethren ſo lame, and impotent, do ridiculouſly look very big, and very dull, and ſtrut, and hobble cheek by jowl, with their arms on kimbo, being led, and ſupported, and bully-backed, by that blind Hector impudence.’ The reaſons which our critic gives for this extraordinary fury are equally ridiculous.
‘I regard him (ſays he) as an enemy, not ſo much to me, as to my king, to my country, and to my religion. The epidemic madneſs of the times has given him reputation, and reputation is power; and that has made him dangerous. Therefore I look on it as my duty to king George, and to the liberties of my country, more dear than life to me, of which I have now been 40 years a conſtant aſſertor, &c. I look upon it as my duty I ſay to do,Reader obſerve what,To pull the lion’s ſkin from this little aſs, which popular error has thrown round him, and ſhew that this little author, who has been lately ſo much in vogue, has neither ſenſe in his thoughts, nor Engliſh in his expreſſions. See his Remarks on Homer, Pref. p. 2. and p. 91.’
Speaking of Mr. Pope’s Windſor-Forreſt, he ſays, ‘It is a wretched rhapſody, impudently writ in emulation of Cooper’s-Hill. The author of it is obſcure, is ambiguous, is affected, is temerarious, is barbarous.’
After theſe provocations, it is no wonder that Pope ſhould take an opportunity of recording him in his Dunciad; and yet he had ſome eſteem for our author’s learning and genius. Mr. Dennis put his name to every thing he wrote againſt him, which Mr. Pope conſidered as a circumſtance of candour. He pitied him as a man ſubject to the dominion of invidious paſſions, than which no ſeverer ſenſations can tear the heart of man.
In the firſt Book of his Dunciad, line 103, he repreſents Dullneſs taking a view of her ſons; and thus mentions Dennis,
She ſaw ſlow Philips creep like Tate’s poor page,
And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage.
Ah Dennis! Gildon ah! what ill-ſtarr’d rage
Divides a friendſhip long confirm’d by age?
Blockheads, with reaſon, wicked wits abhor,
But fool with fool, is barbr’ous civil war,
Embrace, embrace, my ſons! be foes no more!
Nor glad vile poets, with true critic’s gore.
Our author gained little by his oppoſition to Pope, in which he muſt either have violated his judgment, or been under the influence of the ſtrongeft prejudice that ever blinded the eyes of any man; for not to admire the writings of this excellent poet, is an argument of a total depravation of taſte, which in other reſpects does not appear to be the caſe of Mr. Dennis.
We ſhall now take a view of our author in the light of a dramatiſt. In the year 1697 a comedy of his was acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, called A Plot and No Plot, dedicated to the Earl of Sunderland. The ſcope of this piece is to ridicule the credulity and principles of the Jacobites, the moral of which is this, ‘That there are in all parties, perſons who find it their intereſt to deceive the reſt, and that one half of every faction makes a property in fee-ſimple of the other, therefore we ought never to believe any thing will, or will not be, becauſe it is agreeable, or contrary to our humours, but becauſe it is in itſelf likely, or improbable. Credulity in men, engaged in a party, proceeds oftner from pride than weakneſs, and it is the hardeſt thing in the world to impoſe upon a humble man.’
In 1699 a tragedy called Rinaldo and Armida was acted at the Theatre in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields, dedicated to the Duke of Ormond. Scene the top of a mountain in the Canaries. The hint of the chief characters is owing to Taſſo’s Gieruſalemme, but the manners of them being by our author thought unequal in that great Italian, he has taken the liberty to change them, and form his characters more agreeable to the ſubject. The reaſons for doing it are expreſſed in the preface and prologue to the play.
Our author’s next tragedy was upon the ſubject of Iphigenia, daughter to Agamemnon King of Argos, acted at the Theatre in Lincoln’s-Inn 1704. Iphigenia was to have been ſacrificed by her father, who was deluded by the fraud of Calchas, who proclaimed throughout the Grecian fleet, that the offended gods demanded of Agamemnon the ſacrifice of his daughter to Lucina, and ’till that oblation was offered, the fleet would remain wind-bound. Accordingly, under presence of marrying her to Achilles, ſhe was betrayed from Argos, but her mother, Clytemneſtra, diſcovering the cheat, by a ſtratagem prevented its execution, and effected her reſcue without the knowledge of any one, but her huſband Agamemnon. A Grecian virgin being ſacrificed in her place, Iphigenia is afterwards wrecked on the Coaſt of Scythia, and made the Prieſteſs of Diana. In five years time her brother Oreſtes, and his friend Pylades, are wrecked on the ſame ſhore, but ſaved from ſlaughter by the Queen of Scythia, becauſe ſhe loved Oreſtes. Oreſtes, on the other hand, falls in love with the Prieſteſs of Diana; they attempt an eſcape, and to carry off the image of the Goddeſs, but are prevented. The Queen then dooms Oreſtes to the altar, but Pylades, from his great friendſhip, perſonates Oreſtes, and diſconcerts the deſign. The ſtory and incidents of this play are intereſting and moving, but Mr. Dennis has not wrought the ſcenes much in the ſpirit of a tragedian: This was a ſubject admirably ſuited for the talents of Otway. The diſcovery of Oreſtes’s being the brother of Iphigenia is both ſurprizing and natural, and though the ſubject is not well executed, yet is this by far the moſt affecting tragedy of our author; it is almoſt impoſſible to read it without tears, though it abounds with bombaſt.
The fourth play introduced upon the ſtage by Mr. Dennis, 1704, was, a tragedy called Liberty Aſſerted, dedicated to Anthony Henley, eſq; to whom he ſays he was indebted for the happy hint upon which it was formed. Soon after this he wrote another tragedy upon the ſtory of Appius and Virginia, which Mr. Maynwaring, in a letter to Mr. Dennis, calls one of our beſt modern tragedies; it is dedicated to Sidney Earl of Godolphin.
He altered Shakeſpear’s Merry Wives of Windſor, and brought it on the ſtage under the title of The Comical Gallant. Prefixed to this, is a large account of Taſte in Poetry, and the Cauſes of its Degeneracy addreſſed to the Hon. George Granville, Eſq; afterwards Lord Lanſdowne.
Our author’s next dramatic production was Coriolanus, the Invader of his Country, or the Fatal Reſentment, a Tragedy; altered from Shakeſpear, and acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. This piece met with ſome oppoſition the firſt night; and on the fourth another play was given out. The ſecond night’s audience was very ſmall, though the play was exceedingly well acted. The third night had not the charges in money; the fourth was ſtill worſe, and then another play was given out, not one place being taken in the boxes for any enſuing night. The managers were therefore obliged to discontinue it.
This uſage Mr. Dennis highly reſented; and in his dedication to the duke of Newcaſtle, then lord chamberlain, he makes a formal complaint againſt the managers. To this play Mr. Colley Cibber took the pains to write an epilogue, which Mrs. Oldfield ſpoke with univerſal applauſe, and for which poor peeviſh, jealous Dennis, abuſed them both.
Mr. Dennis happened once to go to the play, when a tragedy was acted, in which the machinery of thunder was introduced, a new artificial method of producing which he had formerly communicated to the managers. Incenſed by this circumſtance, he cried out in a tranſport of reſentment, ‘That is my thunder by G—d; the villains will play my thunder, but not my plays.’ This gave an alarm to the pit, which he ſoon explained. He was much ſubject to theſe kind of whimſical tranſports, and ſuffered the fervor of his imagination often to ſubdue the power of his reaſon; an inſtance of which we ſhall now relate.
After he was worn out with age and poverty, he reſided within the verge of the court, to prevent danger from his creditors. One Saturday night he happened to ſaunter to a public houſe, which he diſcovered in a ſhort time was out of the verge. He was ſitting in an open drinking room, and a man of a ſuſpicious appearance happened to come in. There was ſomething about the man which denoted to Mr. Dennis that he was a Bailiff: this ſtruck him with a panic; he was afraid his liberty was now at an end; he ſat in the utmoſt ſolicitude, but durſt not offer to ſtir, leſt he ſhould be ſeized upon. After an hour or two had paſſed in this painful anxiety, at laſt the clock ſtruck twelve, when Mr. Dennis, in an extaſy, cried out, addreſſing himſelf to the ſuſpected perſon, ‘Now ſir, Bailiff, or no Bailiff, I don’t care a farthing for you, you have no power now.’ The man was aſtoniſhed at this behaviour, and when it was explained to him, he was ſo much affronted with the ſuſpicion, that had not Mr. Dennis found his protection in age, he would have ſmarted for his miſtaken opinion of him.
In the year 1705 a comedy of Mr. Dennis’s called Gibraltar, or The Spaniſh Adventure, was acted unſucceſsfully at Drury-Lane Theatre. He was alſo author of a maſque called Orpheus and Euridice.
Mr. Dennis, conſidered as a dramatic writer, makes not ſo good a figure as in his critical works; he underſtood the rules of writing, but it is not in the power of every one to carry their own theory into execution. There is one error which he endeavoured to reform, very material for the intereſt of dramatic poetry. He ſaw, with concern, that love had got the entire poſſeſſion of the tragic ſtage, contrary to the authority of the ancients, and the example of Shakeſpear. He reſolved therefore to deviate a little from the reigning practice, and not to make his heroes ſuch whining ſlaves in their amours, which not only debaſes the majeſty of tragedy, but confounds moſt of the principal characters, by making that paſſion the predominant quality in all. But he did not think it ſafe at once to ſhew his principal characters wholly exempt from it, leſt ſo great and ſudden a tranſition ſhould prove diſagreeable. He rather choſe to ſteer a middle courſe, and make love appear violent, but yet to be ſubdued by reaſon, and give way to the influence of ſome other more noble paſſion; as in Rinaldo, to Glory; in Iphigenia, to Friendſhip; and in Liberty Aſſerted, to the Public Good. He thought by theſe means an audience might be entertained, and prepared for greater alterations, whereby the dignity of tragedy might be ſupported, and its principal characters juſtly diſtinguiſhed.
Beſides the works which we have already mentioned, Mr. Dennis is author of the following pieces, moſtly in the Pindaric way.
- Upon our Victory at Sea, and burning the French Fleet at La Hogne in 1692.
- Part of the Te Deum Paraphraſed, in Pindaric Verſe.
- To Mr. Dryden, upon his Tranſlation of the Third Book of Virgil’s Georgics. Pindaric Ode.
- A Pindaric Ode on the King, written in the begining of Auguſt 1691; occaſioned by the Victory at Aghrim.
- To a Painter drawing a Lady’s Picture, an Epigram.
- Prayer for the King’s Safety in the Summer’s Expedition in 1692, an Epigram.
- The Court of Death, a Pindaric Poem; dedicated to the Memory of her Moſt Sacred Majeſty Queen Mary.
- The Paſſion of Byblis, made Engliſh from the Ninth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoſis.
- The Monument, a Poem; ſacred to the Memory of the beſt, and greateſt of Kings, William III.
- Britannia Triumphans, or A Poem on the Battle of Blenheim; dedicated to Queen Anne.
- On the Acceſſion of King George to the Imperial Crown of Great Britain.
Now let us ſing a loftier ſtrain,
Now let us earth and earthly things diſdain,
Now let our ſouls to Heaven repair,
Direct their moſt aſpiring flight,
To fields of uncreated light,
And dare to draw empyreal air.
’Tis done, O place divinely bright!
O Sons of God divinely fair!
O ſight! unutterable light!
O unconceivable delight!
O joy which only Gods can bear?
Heark how their bliſsful notes they raiſe,
And ſing the Great Creator’s praiſe!
How in extatic ſong they cry,
Lo we the glorious ſons of light,
So great, ſo beautiful, ſo bright,
Lo we the brighteſt of created things,
Who are all flame, all force, all ſpirit, and all eye,
Are yet but vile, and nothing in thy ſight!
Before thy feet O mighty King of kings,
O Maker of this bounteous all!
Thus lowly reverent we fall.
After a life expoſed to viciſſitudes, habituated to many diſappointments, and embroiled in unſucceſsful quarrels, Mr. Dennis died on the 6th of January 1733, in the 77th year of his age. We have obſerved that he outlived the reverſion of his place, after which he fell into great diſtreſs, and as he had all his life been making enemies, by the ungovernable fury of his temper, he found few perſons diſpoſed to relieve him. When he was near the cloſe of his days, a play was acted for his benefit. This favour was procured him by the joint intereſt of Mr. Thomſon, Mr. Martin, Mr. Mallet, and Mr. Pope. The play was given by the company then acting at the little Theatre in the Hay-market, under the direction of Mr. Mills ſen. and Mr. Cibber jun. the latter of whom ſpoke a prologue on the occaſion, written by Mr. Pope.
Mr. Dennis was leſs happy in his temper, than his genius; he poſſeſſed no inconſiderable erudition, which was joined to ſuch natural parts, as if accompanied with prudence, or politenefs, might have raiſed him, not only above want, but even to eminence. He was happy too in having very powerful patrons, but what could be done for a man, who declared war againſt all the world? Dennis has given evidence againſt himſelf in the article of politeneſs; for in one of his letters he ſays, he would not retire to a certain place in the country, left he ſhould be diſturbed in his ſtudies by the ladies in the houſe: for, ſays he, I am not over-fond of the converſation of women. But with all his foibles, we cannot but conſider him as a good critic, and a man of genius.
His perpetual misfortune was, that he aimed at the empire of wit, for which nature had not ſufficiently endowed him; and as his ambition prompted him to obtain the crown by a furious oppoſition to all other competitors, ſo, like Cæſar of old, his ambition overwhelmed him.
