(John), one of the most eminent English poets of the 17th century, descended of a genteel family in Huntingdonshire, was born in that county at Oldwinche 1631, and educated at Westminster school under Dr Bushby. From thence he was removed to Cambridge in 1650, being elected scholar of Trinity college, of which he appears, by his Epithalamia Cantabrigiensis, 4to, 1662, to have been afterwards a fellow. Yet in his earlier days he gave no extraordinary indication of genius; for even the year before he quitted the university, he wrote a poem on the death of Lord Halifax, which was by no means a presage of that amazing perfection in poetical powers which he afterwards possessed.

On the death of Oliver Cromwell he wrote some heroic stanzas to his memory; but on the Restoration, being desirous of ingratiating himself with the new court, he wrote first a poem intitled Afraea Redux, and afterwards a panegyric to the king on his coronation. In 1662, he addressed a poem to the lord chancellor Hyde, presented on New Year's day; and in the same year a satire on the Dutch. In 1668 appeared his Annus Mirabilis, which was an historical poem in celebration of the duke of York's victory over the Dutch. These pieces at length obtained him the favour of the crown; and Sir William Davenant dying the same year, Mr Dryden was appointed to succeed him as poet laureate. About this time also his inclination to write for the stage seems first to have shown itself. Besides his concern with Sir William Davenant in the alteration of Shakespeare's Tempest, in 1669 he produced his Wild Gallants, a comedy. This met with very indifferent success; yet the author, not being discouraged by its failure, soon published his Indian Emperor. This finding a more favourable reception, encouraged him to proceed; and that with such rapidity, that in the key to the Duke of Buckingham's Rehearsal he is recorded to have engaged himself by contract for the writing of four plays per year; and, indeed, in the years 1679 and 1680 he appears to have fulfilled that contract. To this unhappy necessity that our author lay under, are to be attributed all those irregularities, those bombastic flights, and sometimes even puerile exuberances, for which he has been so severely criticized; and which, in the unavoidable hurry in which he wrote, it was impossible he should find time either for stopping away or correcting. In 1675, the Earl of Rochester, whose envious and malevolent disposition would not permit him to see growing merit meet with its due reward, and was therefore sincerely chagrined at the very just applause with which Mr Dryden's dramatic pieces had been received, was determined if possible to shake his interest at court; and succeeded so far as to recommend Mr Crowne, an author by no means of equal merit, and at that time of an obscure reputation, to write a masque for the court, which certainly belonged to Mr Dryden's office as poet laureate.—Nor was this the only attack, nor indeed the most potent one, that Mr Dryden's justly acquired fame drew on him. For, some years before, the Duke of Buckingham, a man of not much better character than Lord Rochester, had most severely ridiculed several of our author's plays in his admired piece called the Rehearsal. But though the intrinsic wit which runs through that performance cannot even to this hour fail of exciting our laughter, yet at the same time it ought not to be the standard on which we should fix Mr Dryden's poetical reputation, if we consider, that the pieces there ridiculed are not any of those looked on as the chef d'oeuvres of this author; that the very passages burlesqued are frequently, in their original places, much less ridiculous than when thus detached, like a rotten limb, from the body of the work; and exposed to view with additional distortions, and divested of that connection with the other parts, which, while preserved, gave it not only symmetry but beauty; and lastly, that the various imitable beauties, which the critic has sunk in oblivion, are infinitely more numerous than the deformities which he has thus industriously brought forth to our more immediate inspection.

Mr Dryden, however, did not suffer these attacks to pass with impunity; for in 1679 there came out an Essay on Satire, said to be written jointly by that gentleman and the Earl of Mulgrave, containing some very severe reflections on the Earl of Rochester and the Duchess of Portsmouth, who, it is not improbable, might be a joint instrument in the above-mentioned affront shown to Mr Dryden; and in 1681 he published his Absalom and Achitophel, in which the well-known character of Zimri, drawn for the Duke of Buckingham, is certainly severe enough to repay all the ridicule thrown on him by that nobleman in the character of Bays.—The resentment shown by the different peers was very different. Lord Rochester, who was a coward as well as a man of the most depraved morals, basely hired three ruffians to cudgel Dryden in a coffeehouse; but the Duke of Buckingham, as we are told, in a more open manner, took the talk upon himself; and at the same time presented him with a purse containing no very trifling sum of money; telling him, that he gave him the beating as a punishment for his impudence, but bestowed that gold on him as a reward for his wit.

In 1680 was published a translation of Ovid's Epistles in English verse by several hands, two of which, together with the preface, were by Mr Dryden; and in 1682 came out his Religio Laici, designed as a defence of revealed religion, against Deists, Papists, &c. Soon after the accession of King James II. our author changed his religion for that of the church of Rome, and wrote two pieces in vindication of the Romish tenets; viz. A Defence of the Papers written by the late King, found in his strong box; and the celebrated poem, afterwards answered by Lord Halifax, intitled The Hind and the Panther.—By this extraordinary step he not only engaged himself in controversy, and incurred much censure and ridicule from his contemporary wits; but on the completion of the Revolution, being, on account of his newly-chosen religion, disqualified from bearing any office under the government, he was stripped of the laurel, which, to his still greater mortification, was bestowed on Richard Flecknoe, a man to whom he had a most settled aversion. This circumstance occasioned his writing the very severe poem called Mac Flecknoe.

Mr Dryden's circumstances had never been affluent; but now being deprived of this little support, he found himself reduced to the necessity of writing for mere bread. We consequently find him from this period engaged in works of labour as well as genius, viz. in translating the works of others; and to this necessity perhaps our nation stands indebted for some of the best translations extant. In the year he lost the laurel, he published the life of St Francis Xavier from the French. In 1693 came out a translation of Juvenal and Persius; in the first of which he had a considerable hand, and of the latter the entire execution. In 1695 was published his prose version of Freynoy's Art of Painting; and the year 1697 gave the world that translation of Virgil's works entire, which still does, and perhaps ever will, stand foremost among the attempts made on that author. The petite pieces of this eminent writer, such as prologues, epilogues, epitaphs, elegies, songs, &c., are too numerous to specify here, and too much dispersed to direct the reader to. The greatest part of them, however, are to be found in a collection of miscellanies in 6 vols 12mo. His last work is what is called his Fables, which consists of many of the most interesting stories in Homer, Ovid, Boceace, and Chaucer, translated or modernized in the most elegant and poetical manner; together with some original pieces, among which is that amazing ode on St Cecilia's day, which, though written in the very decline of the author's life, and at a period when old age and distempers confined as it were to damp his poetic ardor and clip the wings of fancy, yet possest so much of both, as would be sufficient to have rendered him immortal had he never written a single line besides.

Dryden married the lady Elizabeth Howard, sister to the Earl of Berkshire, who survived him eight years; though for the last four of them she was a lunatic, having been deprived of her senses by a nervous fever.—By this lady he had three sons; Charles, John, and Henry. Of the eldest of these there is a circumstance related by Charles Wilson, Esq.; in his Life of Congreve, which seems so well attested, and is itself of so very extraordinary a nature, that we cannot avoid giving it a place here.—Dryden, with all his understanding, was weak enough to be fond of judicial astrology, and used to calculate the nativity of his children. When his lady was in labour with his son Charles, he 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 exact notice of the very minute that the child was born; which she did, and acquainted him with it. About a week after, when his lady was pretty well recovered, Mr Dryden took occasion to tell her that he had been calculating the child's nativity; and observed, with grief, that he was born in an evil hour: for Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun, were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant afflicted with a hateful square of Mars and Saturn. "If he lives to arrive at the 8th year," says he, "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 the 23rd year be under the very same evil direction; and if he should escape that also, the 33rd or 34th year is, I fear."—Here he was interrupted by the immoderate grief of his lady, who could no longer hear calamity prophesied to befall her son. The time at last came, and August was the inauspicious month in which young Dryden was to enter into the eighth year of his age. The court being in progress, and Mr Dryden at leisure, he was invited to the country-seat of the Earl of Berkshire his brother-in-law, to keep the long vacation with him in Charleton in Wilts; his lady was invited to her uncle Mordaunt's to pass the remainder of the summer. When they came to divide the children, lady Elizabeth would have him take John, and suffer her to take Charles: but Mr Dryden was too absolute, and they parted in anger; he took Charles with him, and she was obliged to be content with John.

When the fatal day came, the anxiety of the lady's spirits occasioned such an effervescence of blood, as threw her into so violent a fever, that her life was despaired of, till a letter came from Mr Dryden, reproving her for her womanish credulity, and assuring her that her child was well; which recovered her spirits, and in six weeks after she received an escharacturement of the whole affair. Mr Dryden, either through fear of being reckoned superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study, was extremely cautious of letting any one know that he was a dealer in astrology; therefore could not excuse his absence, on his son's anniversary, from a general hunting-match which Lord Berkshire had made, to which all the adjacent gentlemen were invited. When he went out, he took care to let 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. Charles was performing his duty in obedience to his father; but, as ill fate would have it, the stag made towards the house; and the noise alarming the servants, they halted out to see the sport. One of them took young Dryden by the hand, and led him out to see it also; when, just as they came to the gate, the stag being at bay with the dogs, made a bold push, and leaped over the court-wall, which was very low and very old; and the dogs following, threw down a part of the wall 10 yards in length, under which Charles Dryden lay buried. He was immediately dug out; and after six weeks languishing in a dangerous way, he recovered. So far Dryden's prediction was fulfilled. In the 23rd year of his age, Charles fell from the top of an old tower belonging to the Vatican at Rome, occasioned by a swimming in his head with which he was seized, the heat of the day being excessive. He again recovered, but was ever after in a languishing sickly state. In the 33rd year of his age, being returned to England, he was unhappily drowned at Windsor. He had with another gentleman swam twice over the Thames; but returning a third time, it was supposed he was taken with the cramp, because he called out for help, though too late. Thus the father's calculation proved but too prophetic.

At last, after a long life, harassed with the most laborious of all fatigues, viz. that of the mind, and continually made anxious by distress and difficulty, our author departed this life on the first of May 1701.—The day after Mr Dryden's death, the dean of Westminster sent word to Mr Dryden's widow, that he would make a present of the ground and all other abbey-fees for the funeral: the Lord Halifax likewise sent to the lady Elizabeth, and to Mr Charles Dryden, offering to defray the expenses of our poet's funeral, and afterwards to bestow 100l. on a monument in the abbey; which generous offer was accepted. Accordingly, on Sunday following, the company being assembled, the corpse was put into a velvet coffin, attended by 18 mourning coaches. When they were just ready to move, Lord Jefferys, son of Lord Chancellor Jefferys, a name dedicated to infamy, with some of his rakish companions, riding by, asked whose funeral it was; and being told it was Mr Dryden's, he protested he should not be buried in that private manner; that he would himself, with the lady Elizabeth's leave, have the honour of the interment, and would bestow 100l. on a monument in the abbey for him. This put a stop to their procession; and the Lord Jefferys, with several of the gentlemen who had alighted from their coaches, went upstairs to the lady, who was sick in bed. His lordship repeated the purport of what he had said below; but the lady Elizabeth refusing her consent, he fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request was granted. The lady under a sudden fright fainted away; and Lord Jefferys, pretending to have obtained her consent, ordered the body to be carried to Mr Ruffell's undertaker in Cheapside, and to be left there till further orders. In the mean time the abbey was lighted up, the ground opened, the choir attending, and the bishop waiting some hours to no purpose for the corpse. The next day Mr Charles Dryden waited on the Lord Halifax and the bishop; and endeavoured to excuse his mother, by relating the truth. Three days after, the undertaker, having received no orders, waited on the Lord Jefferys; who pretended that it was a drunken frolic, that he remembered nothing of the matter, and he might do what he pleased with the body. Upon this the undertaker waited upon the lady Elizabeth, who desired a day's respite, which was granted. Mr Charles Dryden immediately wrote to the Lord Jefferys, who returned for answer, that he knew nothing of the matter, and would be troubled no more about it. Mr Dryden hereupon applied again to Lord Halifax and the Bishop of Rochester, who absolutely refused to do anything in the affair.

In this distress, Dr Garth, who had been Mr Dryden's intimate friend, sent for the corpse to the college of physicians, and proposed a subscription; which succeeding, about three weeks after Mr Dryden's decease, Dr Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration over the body, which was conveyed from the college, attended by a numerous train of coaches to Westminster-abbey, but in very great disorder. At last the corpse arrived at the abbey, which was all unlighted. No organ play- ed, no anthem sung; only two of the singing boys preceding the corpse, who sung an ode of Horace, with each a small candle in their hand. When the funeral was over, Mr Charles Dryden sent a challenge to Lord Jefferys; 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 incensed him, that finding his Lordship refused to answer him like a gentleman, he resolved to watch an opportunity, and brave him to fight, though with all the rules of honour; which his Lordship hearing, quitted the town, and Mr Charles never had an opportunity to meet him, though he fought it to his death with the utmost application.

Mr Dryden had no monument erected to him for several years; to which Mr Pope alludes in his epitaph intended for Mr Rowe, in this line,

Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies.

In a note upon which we are informed that the tomb of Mr Dryden was erected upon this hint by Sheffield duke of Buckingham, to which was originally intended this epitaph:

This Sheffield rais'd.—The sacred dust below Was Dryden once; the rest, who does not know?

Which was since changed into the plain inscription now upon it, viz.

J. D R Y D E N, Natus Aug. 9. 1631. Mortuus Maii 1. 1704. Johannes Sheffield, dux Buckinghamensis fecit.

Mr Dryden's character has been very differently drawn by different hands, some of which have exalted it to the highest degree of commendation, and others defamed it by the severest censure.—The latter, however, we must charge to that strong spirit of party which prevailed during great part of Dryden's time, and ought therefore to be taken with great allowances. Were we indeed to form a judgment of the author from some of his dramatic writings, we should perhaps be apt to conclude him a man of the most licentious morals; many of his comedies containing a great share of looseness, even extending to obscenity: But if we consider, that, as the poet tells us,

Those who live to please, must please to live; if we then look back to the scandalous licence of the age he lived in, the indulgence which at times he underwent, and the necessity he consequently lay under of complying with the public taste however depraved; we shall surely not refuse our pardon to the compelled writer, nor our credit to those of his cotemporaries who were intimately acquainted with him, and who have assured us there was nothing remarkably vicious in his personal character.

From some parts of his history he appears unsteady, and to have too readily temporized with the several revolutions in church and state. This however might in some measure have been owing to that natural timidity and diffidence in his disposition, which almost all the writers seem to agree in his possession. Congreve, whose authority cannot be suspected, has given us such an account of him, as makes him appear no less amiable in his private character as a man, than he was illustrious in his public one as a poet. In the former light, according to that gentleman, he was humane, compassionate, forgiving, and sincerely friendly: of an extensive reading, a tenacious memory, and a ready communication: gentle in the correction of the writings of others, and patient under the reprehension of his own deficiencies: easy of access himself, but slow and diffident in his advances to others; and of all men the most modest and the most easy to be discomfited in his approaches either to his superiors or his equals. As to his writings, he is perhaps the happiest in the harmony of his numbers, of any poet who ever lived either before or since his time, not even Mr Pope himself excepted. His imagination is ever warm, his images noble, his descriptions beautiful, and his sentiments just and becoming. In his prose he is poetical without bombast, concise without pedantry, and clear without prolixity. His dramatic have, perhaps, the least merit of all his writings. Yet there are many of them which are truly excellent; though he himself tells us that he never wrote anything in that way to please himself but his All for Love. This last, indeed, and his Spanish Friar, may be reckoned two of the best plays our language has been honoured with.