** Abbey lighted, the ground opened, the choir *"'attending, an anthem ready fet, and himself. " waiting for fome time without any corpse to. "bury. The undertaker, after three days expect-. "ance of orders for embalment without receiving

any, waited on the lord Jefferies; who pretend-. ing ignorance of the matter, turned it off with an ill-natured jest, saying, that those who ob"served the orders of a drunken frolick deserved

no better; that he remembered nothing at all of " it; and that he might do what he pleased with "the corpse. Upon this, the undertaker waited " upon the lady Elizabeth and her fon, and threat"ened to bring the corpse home, and set it before "the door. They defired a day's refpite, which

was granted. Mr. Charles Dryden wrote a hand"some letter to the lord Jefferies, who returned it " with this cool answer: That he knew nothing " of the matter, and would be troubled no more "about it.' He then addressed the lord Halifax and "the bishop of Rochester, who absolutely refused "to do any thing in it. In this distress Dr. Garth "sent for the corpse to the College of Physicians, " and proposed a funeral by subscription, to which " himself fet a most noble example. At last a day, " about three weeks after Mr. Dryden's decease,

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was appointed for the interment. Dr. Garth " pronounced a fine Latin oration, at the College, " over the corpse; which was attended to the Ab

bey by a numerous train of coaches. When the " funeral was over, Mr. Charles Dryden sent a "challenge to lord Jefferies, who refusing to an"swer it, he sent several others, and went often "himself; but could neither get a letter delivered, " nor admittance to speak to him; which so in" cenfed

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" censed him, that he resolved, fince his lordship " refused to answer him like a gentleman, that he " would watch an opportunity to meet, and fight "off-hand, though with all the rules of honour; "which his lordship hearing, left the town; and "Mr. Charles Dryden could never have the fatif"faction of meeting him, though he fought it till " his death with the utmost application."

This story I once intended to omit, as it appears with no great evidence; nor have I met with any confirmation, but in a letter of Farquhar; and he only relates that the funeral of Dryden was tumultuary and confused *.

Suppofing the story true, we may remark, that the gradual change of manners, though imperceptible in the process, appears great when different times, and those not very distant, are compared. If at this time a young drunken Lord should interrupt the pompous regularity of a magnificent funeral, what would be the event, but that he would be juftled out of the way, and compelled to be quiet? If he should thrust himself into a house, he would be fent roughly away; and, what is yet

* An earlier account of Dryden's funeral than that above cited, though without the circumstances that preceded it, is given by Edward Ward, who in his Londori Spy, published in 1706, relates, that on the occafion there was a performance of folemn Mufick at the College, and that at the proceffion, which himself saw, standing at the end of Chancery-lane, Fleet-street, there was a concert of hautboys and trumpets. The day of Dryden's interment, he says, was Monday the 13th of May, which, according to Johnfon, was twelve days after his decease, and shews how long his funeral was in suspense. Ward knew not that the expence of it was defrayed by subscription but compliments lord Jefferies for fo pious an undertaking. He also says, that the cause of Dryden's death was an inflammation in his toe, occafioned by the flesh growing over the nail, which being neglected produced a mortification in his leg. H.

;

more to the honour of the present time, I believe that those, who had fubscribed to the funeral of a man like Dryden, would not, for such an accident, have withdrawn their contributions *.

He was buried among the poets in Westminster Abbey, where, though the duke of Newcastle, had, in a general dedication prefixed by Congreve to his dramatick works, accepted thanks for his intention of erecting him a monument, he lay long without distinction, till the duke of Buckinghamshire gave him a tablet, inscribed only with the name of DRYDEN.

He married the lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the earl of Berkshire, with circumftances, according to the fatire imputed to lord Sommers, not very honourable to either party: by her he had three fons, Charles, John, and Henry. Charles was usher of the palace to Pope Clement the XIth; and, vifiting England in 1704, was drowned in an attempt to swim across the Thames at Windfor.

John was author of a comedy called The Husband his own Cuckold. He is faid to have died at Rome. Henry entered into fome religious order. It is fome proof of Dryden's fincerity in his second religion, that he taught it to his fons. A man, confcious of hypocritical profession in himself, is not likely to convert others; and as his fons were qualified in 1693 to appear among the tranflators of

* In the Register of the College of Physicians, is the following Entry: "May 3, 1700. Comitiis Censoriis ordinariis. At the "request of several persons of quality, that Mr. Dryden might be "carried from the College of Physicians to be interred at West"minster, it was unanimously granted by the Prefident and

"Cenfors."

This entry is not calculated to afford any credit to the narrative concerning Lord Jefferies. R.

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Juvenal,

Juvenal, they must have been taught some religion before their father's change.

Of the perfon of Dryden I know not any account; of his mind, the portrait which has been left by Congreve, who knew him with great familiarity, is such as adds our love of his manners to our admiration of his genius. "He was," we are told, " of a nature exceedingly humane and com"paffionate, ready to forgive injuries, and capable "of a fincere reconciliation with those who had of"fended him. His friendship, where he professed " it, went beyond his professions. He was of a

very easy, of very pleasing access; but fome** what flow, and, as it were, diffident in his ad

vances to others; he had that in his nature "which abhorred intrusion into any fociety what"ever. He was therefore less known, and confe"quently his character became more liable to mif"apprehenfions and mifrepresentations: he was very modeft, and very easily to be difcountenanced in his approaches to his equals or fu"periors. As his reading had been very extensive, "fo was he very happy in a memory tenacious of "every thing that he had read. He was not more "possessed of knowledge than he was communi"cative of it; but then his communication was by " no means pedantick, or impofed upon the con"verfation, but juft fuch, and went so far, as, by "the natural turn of the conversation in which he

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was engaged, it was neceffarily promoted or re-"quired. He was extremely ready and gentle in "his correction of the errors of any writer who "thought fit to confult him, and full as ready and " patient to admit the reprehenfions of others, in " respect of his own oversights or mistakes."

To

To this account of Congreve nothing can be objected but the fondness of friendship; and to have excited that fondness in such a mind is no small degree of praife. The disposition of Dryden, however, is shewn in this character rather as it exhibited itself in cursory conversation, than as it operated on the more important parts of life. His placability and his friendship indeed were solid, virtues; but courtesy and good-humour are often found with little real worth. Since Congreve, who knew him well, has told us no more, the reft must be collected as it can from other testimonies, and particularly from those notices which Dryden has very liberally given us of himself.

The modesty which made him fo flow to advance, and so easy to be repulsed, was certainly no fufpicion of deficient merit, or unconsciousness of his own value; he appears to have known, in its whole extent, the dignity of his own character, and to have set a very high value on his own powers and performances. He probably did not offer his conversation, because he expected it to be folicited; and he retired from a cold reception, not fubmiffive but indignant, with such deference of his own greatness as made him unwilling to expose it to neglect or violation.

His modesty was by no means inconsistent with oftentatiousness; he is diligent enough to remind the world of his merit, and expresses with very little fcruple his high opinion of his own powers; but his felf-commendations are read without scorn or indignation; we allow his claims, and love his frankness.

Tradition, however, has not allowed that his confidence in himself exempted him from jealoufy

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of