The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 18

No. V.
MRS THOMAS’S LETTERS
CONCERNING DRYDEN’S DEATH AND FUNERAL;

Extracted from Wilson’s Life of Congreve, 1730

[As tales of wonder are generally acceptable to the public, I insert these memorable Epistles, with the necessary caveat, that they are full of every kind of blunder and inconsistency.]

“These Memoirs were communicated to me by a lady, now living, with whom Mr Dryden corresponded under the name of Corinna, and which name he himself gave her.

’Sir,

’Mr Dryden was son of – Dryden, of an ancient and good family in Northamptonshire, by a sister of Sir Gilbert Pickering, Bart. of the same county; who has a handsome monument at Tichmarsh, erected in 1721, by the late widow Creed of Oundle, the daughter of another sister of Sir Gilbert’s, and niece to the famous Earl of Sandwich, who was killed in the Dutch war, 1667, being then admiral. He married Lady Elizabeth Howard, (a celebrated beauty) daughter to the old Earl of Berkshire, sister to Sir Robert Howard, Colonel Philip Howard, and Mr Edward Howard: (who wrote “The British Prince,” &c.;) she bore him three sons, Charles, John, and Harry. He lived many years in a very good house in Gerrard street, the 5th or 6th door on the left-hand from Newport-market. On the 19th of April, 1700, he said he had been very bad with the gout, and an erysipelas in one leg; but he was then very well, and designed to go soon abroad: but on the Friday following, he had eat a partridge for his supper; and going to take a turn in the little garden behind his house, was seized with a violent pain under the ball of the great-toe of his right-foot, that, unable to stand, he cried out for help, and was carried in by his servants; when, upon sending for surgeons, they found a small black spot in the place affected: He submitted to their present applications; and when gone, called his son Charles to him, using these words, “I know,” says he, “this black spot is a mortification; I know also, that it will seize my head, and that they will cut off my leg: but I command you, my son, by your filial duty, that you do not suffer me to be dismembered.” As he, too truly, foretold, the event proved; and his son was too dutiful to disobey his father’s commands. On the Wednesday morning following, being May-day, 1700, under the most excruciating dolours, he died. Dr Sprat, then bishop of Rochester, sent, on the Thursday, to Lady Elizabeth, that he would make a present of the ground, which was 40l. with all the other abbey-fees, &c. to his deceased friend. Lord Halifax sent also to my lady and Mr Charles, that if they would give him leave to bury Mr Dryden, he would inter him with a gentleman’s private funeral, and afterwards bestow 500l. on a monument in the Abbey; which, as they had no reason to refuse, they accepted. On the Saturday following the company came, the corpse was put into a velvet hearse, and eighteen mourning coaches, filled with company, attending. When, just before they began to move, Lord Jefferies, with some of his rakish companions, coming by, in wine, asked, whose funeral? and being told, “What!” cries he, “shall Dryden, the greatest honour and ornament of the nation, be buried after this private manner? No, gentlemen; let all that loved Mr Dryden, and honour his memory, alight, and join with me in gaining my lady’s consent, to let me have the honour of his interment, which shall be after another manner than this, and I will bestow 1000l. on a monument in the Abbey for him.” The gentlemen in the coaches not knowing of the bishop of Rochester’s favour, nor of Lord Halifax’s generous design, (these two noble spirits having, out of respect to the family, enjoined Lady Elizabeth and her son to keep their favour concealed to the world, and let it pass for her own expence, &c.), readily came out of the coaches, and attended Lord Jefferies up to the lady’s bed-side, who was then sick, He repeated the purport of what he had before said; but she absolutely refusing, he fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request was granted. The rest of the company, by his desire, kneeled also; she being naturally of a timorous disposition, and then under a sudden surprise, fainted away. As soon as she recovered her speech, she cried, no, no. Enough, gentlemen, replied he, (rising briskly,) my lady is very good; she says, go, go. She repeated her former words with all her strength, but, alas! in vain, her feeble voice was lost in their acclamations of joy; and Lord Jefferies ordered the hearsemen to carry the corpse to Russell’s, the undertaker, in Cheapside, and leave it there, till he sent orders for the embalment, which, he added, should be after the royal manner. His directions were obeyed, the company dispersed, and Lady Elizabeth and Mr Charles remained inconsolable. Next morning Mr Charles waited on Lord Halifax, &c. to excuse his mother and self, by relating the real truth: but neither his lordship, nor the bishop, would admit of any plea; especially the latter, who had the Abbey lighted, the ground opened, the choir attending, an anthem ready set, and himself waiting, for some hours, without any corpse to bury, Russel, after three days expectance of orders for embalment, without receiving any, waits on Lord Jefferies, who, pretending ignorance of the matter, turned it off with an ill-natured jest, saying, “Those who observed the orders of a drunken frolic, deserved no better; that he remembered nothing at all of it, and he might do what he pleased with the corpse.” On this Mr Russell waits on Lady Elizabeth and Mr Dryden; but, alas! it was not in their power to answer. The season was very hot, the deceased had lived high and fast; and being corpulent, and abounding with gross humours, grew very offensive. The undertaker, in short, threatened to bring home the corpse, and set it before their door. It cannot be easily imagined, what grief, shame, and confusion, seized this unhappy family. They begged a day’s respite, which was granted. Mr Charles wrote a very handsome letter to Lord Jefferies, who returned it, with this cool answer, “He knew nothing of the matter, and would be troubled no more about it.” He then addressed the Lord Halifax and bishop of Rochester, who were both too justly, though unhappily, incensed, to do any thing in it. In this extreme distress, Dr Garth, a man who entirely loved Mr Dryden, and was withal a man of generosity and great humanity, sends for the corpse to the College of Physicians in Warwicklane, and proposed a funeral by subscription, to which himself set a most noble example; Mr Wycherley, and several others, among whom must not be forgotten, Henry Cromwell, Esq. Captain Gibbons, and Mr Christopher Metcalfe, Mr Dryden’s apothecary and intimate friend, (since a collegiate physician,) who, with many others, contributed most largely to the subscription; and at last a day, about three weeks after his decease, was appointed for the interment at the Abbey. Dr Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration over the corpse at the College; but the audience being numerous, and the room large, it was requisite the orator should be elevated, that he might be heard; but, as it unluckily happened, there was nothing at hand but an old beer-barrel, which the doctor, with much good-nature, mounted; and, in the midst of his oration, beating time to the accent with his foot, the head broke in, and his feet sunk to the bottom, which occasioned the malicious report of his enemies, that he was turned a tub-preacher: However, he finished the oration with a superior grace and genius, to the loud acclamations of mirth, which inspired the mixed or rather mob-auditors. The procession began to move, a numerous train of coaches attended the hearse; but, good God! in what disorder, can only be expressed by a sixpenny pamphlet, soon after published, entitled, “Dryden’s Funeral.” At last the corpse arrived at the Abbey, which was all unlighted. No organ played, no anthem sung; only two of the singing boys preceded the corpse, who sung an ode of Horace, with each a small candle in their hand. The butchers and other mob broke in like a deluge, so that only about eight or ten gentlemen could get admission, and those forced to cut the way with their drawn swords. The coffin, in this disorder, was let down into Chaucer’s grave, with as much confusion, and as little ceremony, as was possible; every one glad to save themselves from the gentlemen’s swords, or the clubs of the mob. When the funeral was over, Mr Charles sent a challenge to Lord Jefferies, who refusing to answer it, he sent several others, and went often himself, but could neither get a letter delivered, nor admittance to speak to him; which so justly incensed him, that he resolved, since his lordship refused to answer him like a gentleman, he would watch an opportunity to meet him, and fight off hand, though with all the rules of honour; which his lordship hearing, left the town; and Mr Charles could never have the satisfaction to meet him, though he sought it till his death with the utmost application. This is the true state of the case, and surely no reflection to the manes of this great man.

“Thus it is very plain, that his being buried by contribution, was owing to a vile drunken frolic of the Lord Jefferies, as I have related. Mr Dryden enjoyed himself in plenty, while he lived, and the surplusage of his goods paid all his debts. After his decease, the Lady Elizabeth, his widow, took a lesser house in Sherrard-street, Golden-square, and had wherewithal to live frugally genteel, and keep two servants, to the day of her death, by the means of a small part of her fortune, which her relations had obliged Mr Dryden to secure to her on marriage. This was 80l. per annum, and duly paid at 20l. per quarter; so that, I can assure you, there was no want to her dying-day. He had only three sons, and all provided for like gentlemen. Mr Charles had served the Pontiff of Rome above nine years, in an honourable and profitable post, as usher to the palace, out of which he had an handsome stipend remitted by his brother John, whom, by the pope’s favour, he left to officiate, while he came to visit his father, who dying soon after his arrival, he returned no more to Italy, but was unhappily drowned at Windsor in swimming cross the river. Mr John died in his post at Rome, and Harry the youngest was a religious; he had 30l. a year allowed by his college in Flanders, besides a generous salary from his near relation the too well-known Duchess of Norfolk, to whom he was domestic chaplain. Behold the great wants of this deplorable family!

I am, Sir,

Your’s, &c.

Corinna.

May 15, 1729.

P. S. ‘Mr Dryden was educated at Westminster school, under the great Dr Bushby, being one of the king’s scholars upon the royal foundation.’

’Sir,

’Upon recollection, I think it must have been that remarkably fine gentleman, Pope Clement XI., to whom Mr Charles Dryden was usher of the palace. His brother John died of a fever at Rome, not many months after his father, and was buried there; whether before the pope or after I cannot say; but the difference was not much. Mr Charles, who was drowned at Windsor, 1704, was doubtless buried there. Lady Elizabeth lived about eight years after her spouse, and for five years of the time, without any memory, which she lost by a fever in 1703; she was a melancholy object, and was, by her son Harry, as I was told, carried into the country, where she died. What country I never heard. I cannot certainly say where Mr Harry died, or whether before his mother or after.

’Mr Dryden never had any wife but Lady Elizabeth, whatever may have been reported.

’As he was a man of a versatile genius, he took great delight in judicial astrology; though only by himself. There were some incidents which proved his great skill, that were related to Lady Chudleigh at the Bath, and which she desired me to ask Lady Elizabeth about, as I after did; which she not only confirmed, by telling me the exact matter of fact, but added another, which had never been told to any; and which I can solemnly aver was some years before it came to pass. I purposely omitted these Narratives in the Memoirs of Mr Dryden, lest that this over-witty age, which so much ridicules prescience, should think the worse of all the rest; but, if you desire particulars, they shall be freely at your service.

I am, Sir, Your’s, &c.

Corinna.

16th June, 1729.

The Narratives referred to in the foregoing Letter, viz

’Notwithstanding Mr Dryden was a great master of that branch of astronomy, called judicial astrology, there were very few, scarce any, the most intimate of his friends, who knew of his amusements that way, except his own family. In the year 1707, that deservedly celebrated Lady Chudleigh being at the Bath, was told by the Lady Elizabeth of a very surprising instance of this judgement on his eldest son Charles’s horoscope. Lady Chudleigh, whose superior genius rendered her as little credulous on the topic of prescience, as she was on that of apparitions; yet withal was of so candid and curious a disposition, that she neither credited an attested tale on the quality or character of the relater, nor did she altogether despise it, though told by the most ignorant: Her steady zeal for truth always led her to search to the foundation, of it; and on that principle, at her return to London, she spoke to a gentlewoman of her acquaintance, that was well acquainted in Mr Dryden’s family, to ask his widow about it; which she accordingly did. It is true, report has added many incidents to matter of fact; but the real truth, taken from Lady Elizabeth’s own mouth, is in these words:

‘When I was in labour of Charles, Mr Dryden being told it was decent to withdraw, laid his watch on the table, begging one of the ladies, then present, in a most solemn manner, to take an exact notice of the very minute when the child was born: which she did, and acquainted him therewith. This passed without any singular notice; many fathers having had such a fancy, without any farther thought. But about a week after, when I was pretty hearty, he comes into my room; ‘My dear,’ says he, ‘you little think what I have been doing this morning;’ “nor ever shall,” said I, “unless you will be so good to inform me.” ‘Why, then,’ cried he, ‘I have been calculating this child’s nativity, and in grief I speak it, he was born in an evil hour; Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun, were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant afflicted by a hateful square of Mars and Saturn. If he lives to arrive at his eighth year, he will go near to die a violent death on his very birth-day; but if he should escape, as I see but small hopes, he will, in his twenty-third year, be under the very same evil direction: and if he should, which seems almost impossible, escape that also, the thirty-third or thirty-fourth year is, I fear’ – I interrupted him here, “O, Mr Dryden, what is this you tell me? my blood runs cold at your fatal speech; recal it, I beseech you. Shall my little angel, my Dryden boy, be doomed to so hard a fate? Poor innocent, what hast thou done? No: I will fold thee in my arms, and if thou must fall, we will both perish together.” A flood of tears put a stop to my speech; and through Mr Dryden’s comfortable persuasions, and the distance of time, I began to be a little appeased, but always kept the fatal period in my mind. At last the summer arrived, August was the inauspicious month in which my dear son was to enter on his eighth year. The court being in progress, and Mr Dryden at leisure, he was invited to my brother Berkshire’s to keep the long vacation with him at Charleton in Wilts; I was also invited to my uncle Mordaunt’s, to pass the remainder of the summer at his country-seat. All this was well enough; but when we came to dividing the children, I would have had him took John, and let me have the care of Charles; because, as I told him, a man might be engaged in company, but a woman could have no pretence for not guarding of the evil hour. Poor Mr Dryden was in this too absolute, and I as positive. In fine, we parted in anger; and, as a husband always will be master, he took Charles, and I was forced to be content with my son John. But when the fatal day approached, such anguish of heart seized me, as none but a fond mother can form any idea of. I watched the post; that failed: I wrote and wrote, but no answer. Oh, my friend! judge what I endured, terrified with dreams, tormented by my apprehensions. I abandoned myself to despair, and remained inconsolable.

’The anxiety of my spirits occasioned such an effervescence of my blood, as threw me into so violent a fever, that my life was despaired of, when a letter came from my spouse, reproving my womanish credulity, and assured me all was well, and the child in perfect health; on which I mended daily, and recovered my wonted state of ease, till about six weeks after the fatal day, I received an eclaircissement from Mr Dryden, with a full account of the whole truth, which belike he feared to acquaint me with till the danger was over. It was this: In the month of August, being Charles’s anniversary, it happened, that Lord Berkshire had made a general hunting-match, to which were invited all the adjacent gentlemen; Mr Dryden being at his house, and his brother-in-law, could not be dispensed with from appearing.

’I have told you, that Mr Dryden, either through fear of being thought superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study, was extremely cautious in letting any one know that he was a dabbler in astrology, therefore could not excuse his absence from the sport; but he took care to set the boy a double exercise in the Latin tongue, (which he taught his children himself,) with a strict charge not to stir out of the room till his return, well knowing the task he had set him would take up longer time. Poor Charles was all obedience, and sat close to his duty, when, as ill fate ordained, the stag made towards the house. The noise of the dogs, horns, &c. alarmed the family to partake of the sport; and one of the servants coming down stairs, the door being open, saw the child hard at his exercise without being moved. ‘Master,’ cried the fellow, ‘why do you sit there? come down, come down, and see the sport.’ ‘No,’ replied Charles, ’my papa has forbid me, and I dare not.’ ‘Pish!’ quoth the clown, ‘vather shall never know it;’ so takes the child by the hand, and leads him away; when, just as they came to the gate, the stag, being at bay with the dogs, cut a bold stroke, and leaped over the court-wall, which was very low and very old, and the dogs following, threw down at once a part of the wall ten yards in length, under which my dear child lay buried. He was as soon as possible dug out; but, alas, how mangled! his poor little head being crushed to a perfect mash. In this miserable condition he continued above six weeks, without the least hope of life. Through the Divine Providence he recovered, and in process of time, having a most advantageous invitation to Rome, from my uncle, Cardinal Howard, we sent over our two sons Charles and John; (having, through the grace of God, been ourselves admitted into the true Catholic faith;) they were received suitable to the grandeur and generosity of his eminence, and Charles immediately planted in a post of honour, as gentleman-usher to his Holiness, in which he continued about nine years. But what occasions me to mention this, is an allusion to my dear Mr Dryden’s too fatal prediction. In his twenty-third year, being in perfect health, he had attended some ladies of the palace, his Holiness’s nieces, as it was his place, on a party of pleasure. His brother John and he lodged together, at the top of an old round tower belonging to the Vatican, (with a well staircase, much like the Monument,) when he knew his brother Charles was returned, went up, thinking to find him there, and to go to bed. But, alas! no brother was there: on which he made a strict enquiry at all the places he used to frequent, but no news, more than that he was seen by the centinel to go up the staircase. On which he got an order for the door of the foundation of the tower to be opened, where they found my poor unfortunate son Charles mashed to a mummy, and weltering in his own blood. How this happened, he gave no farther account, when he could speak, than, that the heat of the day had been most excessive, and as he came to the top of the tower, he found himself seized with a megrim, or swimming in his head, and leaning against the iron rails, it is to be supposed, tipped over, five stories deep. Under this grievous mischance, his Holiness (God bless him!) omitted nothing that might conduce to his recovery; but as he lay many months without hopes of life, so when he did recover his health, it was always very imperfect, and he continues still to be of a hectic disposition.

’You see here (continued Lady Elizabeth) the too true fulfilling of two of my dear husband’s fatal predictions. But, alas! my friend, there is a third to come, which is, that in his thirty-third or thirty-fourth year, he or I shall die a violent death; but he could not say which would go first. I heartily pray it may be myself: But as I have ten thousand fears, the daily challenges Charles sends to Lord Jefferies, on his ungenerous treatment of my dear Mr Dryden’s corpse; and as he has some value for you, I beg, my dearest friend, that you would dissuade him as much as you can from taking that sort of justice on Lord Jefferies, lest it should fulfil his dear father’s prediction.’

“Thus far Lady Elizabeth’s own words.

“This, if required, I can solemnly attest was long before Mr Charles died; to the best of my remembrance it was in 1701 or 1702, I will not be positive which. But in 1703, Lady Elizabeth was seized with a nervous fever, which deprived her of her memory and understanding, (which surely may be termed a moral death,) though she lived some years after. But Mr Charles, in August 1704, was unhappily drowned at Windsor, as before recited. He had, with another gentleman, swam twice over the Thames; but venturing a third time, it was supposed he was taken with the cramp, because he called out for help, though too late.

I am, Sir, &c.

Corinna.”

June 18, 1729.