creased his reputation. A rapid succession of pieces of great excellence placed him in the first rank of dramatic writers. Fairer prospects of emolument opened to him on the accession of James I. From that period he almost abandoned the stage, and employed himself in the production of his series of beautiful masques for the amusement of the Court and of the nobility. This species of writing Jonson may claim the credit of having brought to perfection, and it may almost be said to have died with him. It was during these happier years that he acquired those habits of conviviality to which his enemies have given a less gentle name. His company was courted by all the talent of the time, and the suppers of the "Mermaid" are mentioned with enthusiasm by those who had enjoyed their keen encounters of contending wits. Much of the obloquy against Jonson has arisen from a result of a journey he undertook to Scotland in 1618. He had visited the poet Drummond of Hawthornden. Drummond's notes of their conversations were published partially, under the sanction of his son, in 1711, long after his own and Jonson's death. They contained strictures, reckoned to be malignant, on many of Jonson's contemporaries and on some of his patrons. Jonson's biographer, Gifford, falls furiously on Drummond for the treachery implied in the noting down of confidential conversations, as these have been the foundation of aspersions of the worst kind on Jonson's character. The death of James deprived Jonson of a kind and indulgent patron. He had succeeded Daniel in the hitherto honorary office of laureate, and received for it a small pension; but he was neglected by Charles I., and the concluding years of his life were spent under the pressure of poverty and disease, during which, however, his indefatigable pen was seldom unemployed. He died in 1637, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. The flagstone over his grave was inscribed by some familiar friend with the words "Oh rare Ben Jonson." Gifford heroically defends Jonson from the calumnies heaped on his memory, especially by the commentators of Shakespeare, and vindicates for his author the possession of qualities that commanded the affection and respect of the first men of the time, and caused his death to be felt as a public loss. He seems to have been a man of strong and independent character; somewhat rough and arrogant in manner, but liberal and kind-hearted in temper, with the frankness and bluntness of a true Englishman. His works display a veneration for all that is high-minded and virtuous; his learning is so prodigious that his commentators pant with difficulty after his footsteps. He has not been popular since his own age; Gifford assigns for this various reasons.-See Vol. I. p. 135, et seq. His characters want individuality, and illustrate "humours" rather than minds. His wit is brilliant, "but does not make the heart laugh." His two tragedies, Sejanus and Catiline, lofty, ornate, and correct in the costume of Roman manners, are frigid and passionless. "In the plots of his comedies he is deserving of undisputed praise." Aristophanes, Terence, and Plautus are his models. At the head of his comedies in reputation stand "The Fox, the Alchemist, and Silent Woman, His language is nervous and masculine; 1 A tavern in Cornhill. 66 perhaps," says Dryden, "he His masques abound in pas 2 See a defence of Drummond and the conversations themselves in a publication of the Shakespeare Society, by D. Laing, Esq. 3 For a judicious estimate of the merits of Jonson, see the Retrospective Review, vol i. p. 181. FROM "CYNTHIA'S REVELS." SONG OF HESPERUS. Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Earth, let not thy envious shade Lay thy bow of pearl apart, Space to breathe how short soever; You might have lived in servitude or exile, The honour of the day, yet let us care FROM THE EPILOGUE TO "EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR." may suffer most late change And pale Invasion come with half a heart, In her dread presence! Death himself admire her; The use of his inevitable hand! Fly from her, Age; sleep, Time, before her throne! 66 FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. False world, good night!—Since thou hast brought I know thy forms are studied arts, Thy courtesy but sudden starts, And what thou call'st thy gifts, are baits. I know too, though thou strut and paint, I know thou whole art but a shop 1 Elizabeth. 2 Intrigue., * Compare Milton's "Peace, with turtle-wing Nativity Hymn, 50. 4 Suspicion. 5 Compare Shakespeare, Henry VIII. Act V. Sc. 4. Craniner's Prophecy; This royal infant," &c. And, knowing this, should I yet stay, Enamoured of their golden gyves? Nor for my peace will I go far, As wanderers do, that still do roam; TO CELIA. I. Drink to me only with thine eyes, The thirst, that from the soul doth rise, But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. II. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, But thou thereon didst only breathe, Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Help, help to lift Myself up to thee, harrow'd, torn, and bruised By sin and Satan, and my flesh misused; As my heart lies in pieces, all confused, O take my gift. This song is a translation from a " Collection of Love Letters" by the Greek sophist Philostratus. II. All-gracious God, the sinner's sacrifice, A broken heart thou wert not wont despise ; For thy acceptance; O behold me right, III. Eternal Father, God, who didst create Eternal God, the Son, who not denied'st IV. Eternal Spirit, God from both proceeding, Increase those acts, O glorious Unity Of seeing your face. V. Beholding One in Three, and Three in One, The gladdest light dark man can think upon, Father and Son, and Holy Ghost, you three Distinct in Persons, yet in Unity— One God to see. VI. My Maker, Saviour, and my Sanctifier ! To hear, to mediate, sweeten my desire Among thy saints elected to abide, And with thy angels placéd, side by side, But in thy presence truly glorified, Shall I there rest. |