tall but slender, and his countenance pale and emaciated. His constitution was so tender and delicate, that he had divers sorts of cloaks to put on when he went abroad, according to the tem perature of the air; and in this he governed himself by the thermometer. He escaped the small-pox; but for almost forty years, he laboured under such a feebleness of body, and such a low. ness of strength and spirits, that it was astonishing how he could read, meditate, try experiments, and write as he did. He had likewise a weakness in his eyes, which made him very tender of them, and extremely apprehensive of such distempers as might af fect them. He imagined also, that if sickness, should confine him to his bed, it might raise the pains of the stone to a degree which might be above his strength to support, so that he feared, lest his last minutes should prove too hard for him. This was the ground of all the caution and apprehension he was observed to live in ; but as to life itself, he had that just indifference to it which became so true a Christian. However, his sight began not to grow dim above four hours before he died; and when death came upon him, says bishop Burnet, he had not been above three hours in bed before it had made an end of him with so little pain, that it was plain the light went out, merely for want of oil to maintain the flame.

1

The simplicity of his diet was in all appearance, that which preserved him so long beyond all men's expectation. This he practised so strictly, that in the course of above thirty years, he neither eat or drank to gratify the varieties of appetite, but merely to support nature, and was so regular in it, that he never once transgressed the rule, measure, and kind, which were prescribed for him,

Mr. Boyle was never married; but Mr. Evelyn has mentioned, from information communicated to him, that he courted the beautiful and ingenious daughter of Carey, earl of Monmouth; and that to this passion was owing his "Seraphic Love:" but it does not appear, from any of his writings, that he had ever

entertained thoughts of this kind.

Having now followed him from his infancy to the grave, with that degree of wonder, reverence, and respect, which his know

ledge, virtue, and piety demand, we think it superfluous to enter into a long delineation of his character. It is discernible in every transaction of his life, that he was a great, philosopher, a good citizen, an example of benevolence, and a pious charitable Christian. Yet in compliance with custom, we will add a few words from the celebrated authors to whose labours we have been indebted for the principal incidents of his life.

The extensiveness of his knowledge surpassed every thing but his modesty, and his desire of communicating it; which appears equally in all his compositions; for in them we may discern his fear of offending, and his fear of concealing; and this, not from any timid apprehensions of opposition, but from a benevolent inclination to instruct without severity, and to part with wisdom as' feeely as he had received it.

He had the justest conception of truth that the human mind can frame; so cautious in examining and reporting, as to avoid, in the opinion of all true judges, the least imputation of credulity; and on the other hand, so well acquainted with the powers of nature, that he never presumed to set any limits thereto, or hindered any accession of knowledge, by that sort of incredulity which sometimes attends superior learning. In a word, considered in every light, as a man, as a philosopher, as a Christian, he came as near perfection as the defects of human nature would allow; and though he never sought it, yet the most universal praise, both at home and abroad, waited on his labours living, and have constantly attended his memory to the present time.

Authorities. Dr. Birch's Life of Boyle, edition of his works, in 5 vols. folio, Lond. 1744. Burnet's Funeral Sermon for Mr. Boyle.

87

THE LIFE OF

JOHN DRYDEN.

[A. D. 1631, to 1701.]

THIS celebrated poet was the son of Erasmus Dryden of Tickermish, in Northamptonshire; and was born at Aldwincle, near Oundle, in 1631. He had his education in grammar-learning in Westminster-school, under the famous Dr. Busby; and was from thence elected, in 1650, a scholar of Trinity-college in Cam bridge.

in

We have no account of any extraordinary indications of genius, He was given by this great poet while in his earlier days. turned of thirty before he introduced any play upon the stage; and his first, called, "The Wild Gallant," met with a very 'different reception; which mortified, him so much, that he had taken a resolution never more to write for the stage; but his strong passion for dramatic poetry happily got the better of his

resentment.

year

The before he left the university, he wrote a poem on the death of lord Hastings; "a performance," say some of the critics, very unworthy of himself, and of the astonishing genius he afterwards discovered.

That Mr. Dryden had at this time no fixed principle, either in religion or politics, is abundantly evident from his heroic stanzas on Oliver Cromwell, written after his funeral in 1658; and his publishing immediately upon the restoration, "Astrea Redux, a Poem on the happy`restoration of Charles the Second ;" and in the same year, "A Panegyric to the King on his Coro

nation."

In 1662, he addressed a poem to the lord-chancellor Hyde, presented on New Year's-day; and the same year he published a satire on the Dutch. His next piece was his "Annus Mirabilis : The Year of Wonders," 1668; an historical poem, which celebrated the duke of York's victory over the Dutch. In the

or,

same year Mr. Dryden succeeded sir William Davenant as poetlaureat, and was also made historiographer to his majesty; and then he published his "Essay on Dramatic Poetry," addressed to Charles earl of Dorset and Middlesex.

Mr. Dryden tells his patron, that the writing this essay served as an amusement to him in the country, when he was driven from town by the violence of the plague, which then raged in London; and he diverted himself with thinking on the theatres, as lovers do by ruminating on their mistresses. He there justifies the method of writing plays in verse, but confesses that he had quitted the practice, because he found it troublesome and slow.

In the preface we are informed, that the drift of this discourse was to vindicate the honor of the English writers from the censure of those who unjustly prefer the French to them. Langbaine has injuriously treated Mr. Dryden on account of his dramatic performances, and charges him as a licentious plagiary. The truth is, our author, as a dramatist, is less eminent than in any other sphere of poetry; but with all his faults, he is even in that respect, the most eminent of his time.

The critics have remarked, that as to tragedy he seldom touches the passions, but deals rather in pompous language, poetical flights, and descriptions; and too frequently makes his characters speak better than they have occasion, or ought to do, when their sphere in the drama is considered. "And it is peculiar to Dryden," says Mr. Addison, "to make his personages as wise, witty, elegant, and polite as himself."

That he could not so intimately affect the passions is certain; for we find no play` of his in which we are much disposed to weep; and we are so enchanted with beautiful descriptions, and noble flights of fancy, that we forget the business of the piece, and are only attentive to the poet, while the characters sleep. Mr. Gilden observes, in his Laws of Poetry," that when it was recommended to Mr. Dryden to turn his thoughts to a translation. of Euripidess rather than of Homer, he confessed that he had no relish for that poet, who was a great master of tragic simplicity. Mr. Gildon observes, as a confirmation that Dryden's taste for tragedy was not of the genuine sort, that he constantly expressed

great contempt for Otway, who is universally allowed to have succeeded very happily in affecting the tender passions.

The truth is, if a poet would affect the heart, he must not exceed nature too much, nor colour too high; distressful circumstances, short speeches, and pathetic observations, never fail to move infinitely beyond the highest rank, or long declamation, in tragedy.

Mr. Dryden seems to have been sensible that he was not born to write comedy: "For," says he, "I want that gaiety of humour which is required in it; my conversation is slow and dull, my humour saturnine and reserved. In short, I am none of those

who endeavour to break jests in company, and endeavour to make rapartees; so that those who decry my comedies do me no injury, except it be in point of profit; reputation in them is the last thing to which I shall pretend."

This ingenuous confession of inability, one would imagine, were sufficient to silence the clamour of the critics against Mr. Dryden in that particular; but however true it may be, that Dryden did not succeed to any degree in comedy, I shall endeavour to support my assertion, that in tragedy, with all his faults, he is still the most excellent of his time. The end of tragedy is to instruct the mind, as well as move the passions; and where there are no refined sentiments, the mind may be affected, but not im proved; and however prevalent the passion of grief may be over the heart of man, it is certain, that he may feel distress in the acutest manner, and not be much the wiser for it.

The tragedies of Otway, Lee, and Southern, are irresistibly moving; but yet they convey not such sublime sentiments, and the language is far from being so poetical as Dryden's. Now if one dramatic poet writes to move the passions, and another to inchant and instruct, as instruction is of greater consequence than being agitated, it follows naturally, that the latter is the most excellent writer, and possesses the greatest genius.

But perhaps our poet would have written better in both kinds of the drama, had not the necessity of his circumstances obliged him to comply with the popular taste. He himself, in his dedica tion to the Spanish Friar, insinuates as much.