Volume 9 — NOTES ON ANNUS MIRABILIS.
Reading edition
Note I.
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown, Crouching at home, and cruel when abroad; Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own; Our king they courted, and our merchants awed. St. 1. p. 104.
The jealousy of commerce between Holland and England recommended a Dutch war to the nation; while the king, insensible to the many advances made him by the States, cherished a hearty detestation at their mode of government, and the manners of their people in general. Some of the regicides had sought shelter in Holland; and it was only by the uncommon alertness of Downes, the British ambassador, that they were seized and sent to England. Nay, De Witt, and other leaders in the States, kept up a secret correspondence with Ludlow, and the other banished republican English, in hopes that their party might yet find work for Charles in his own kingdom. Meanwhile, they extended beyond measure their personal deference for Charles; willing to avoid a war, which, in any event, must be prejudicial to their commerce, and which, from the valour which the English had displayed in 1653, might probably be unfortunate. But the interest of the East Indian and African Companies, both of which were highly favoured by Charles in the beginning of his reign, and the unatoned injuries which they had sustained from the Dutch, were a sufficient counterpoise to every pacific overture on the part of Holland.
Note II.
And this may prove our second Punic war. St. 5. p. 105.
The first being that which the Parliament declared against the States, and which Cromwell carried on with great success in 1653-4.
Note III.
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays, To render us his timely friendship vain; And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain. St. 8. p. 105.
France, a nation ever remarkable for seeing, almost intuitively, her own interest, was not willing that the domineering spirit of Cromwell should revive under the restored monarchy of England. Richelieu had been forced to comply, to a certain extent, with the rash, and often impolitic, but always energetic and daring, schemes of the Protector, endeavouring, at the same time, to make them subservient to his own purposes. But when there was no danger of England uniting with Spain and Holland against France, it was much more the interest of that kingdom, that the two great naval powers should waste their strength in mutual warfare, or even that France should assist the weaker, than that she should join with the stronger, to oppress the other entirely. Besides, the French faction, with De Witt at their head, was now paramount in Holland; and the indirect effect of any signal success of the English must be the restoration of the house of Orange, so closely allied to Charles II., and the hereditary enemy of France, to the dignity of the office of Stadtholder; an office, which, with the family who held it, has been uniformly respected or degraded, as the English or French faction prevailed in the United Provinces. The French court had therefore various reasons for making the Dutch "lords by sea," since they could give them "law by land;" and these finally weighed so deeply, as to lead them to take a part, though but a cold one, against Britain in this very war.
The Spanish provinces in the Netherlands had always been the object of French cupidity; and, according to count D'Estrade, a scheme was now formed for dividing them between France and Holland; which, however, the French court took great and successful care to conceal from the party who were to be sufferers. This policy Dryden has termed, "rocking the cradle of the babe of Spain."
Note IV.
Him aged seamen might their master call, And chuse for general, were he not their king. St. 14. p. 107.
"As it is on all hands confessed, that never any English, perhaps I might say, any prince, without distinction of countries, understood maritime affairs so well as Charles II. did; so it cannot surprise any intelligent reader, when we assert, that the English navy received very great advantages from his skill and care in matters of this nature. It must indeed be allowed, that he found the fleet, at his restoration, in an excellent situation, and abundance of very able men employed therein; and it must likewise be confessed, to the honour of his government, that he preserved them in their several posts, without any respect to party, which, without question, contributed not a little to the increase of our naval power. How intent he was, for the first ten years of his reign, in promoting whatever had a tendency this way, appears from all the candid histories of those times, from the collections of orders, and other public papers relating to the direction of the navy while the duke of York was admiral, published of late;[203] and, in a short and narrow compass, from the speech made by the lord-keeper Bridgeman, who affirmed, that, from 1660 to 1670, the charge of the navy had never amounted to less than 500,000l. a year."—Lives of the Admirals, Vol. II. p. 331.
Note V.
And heaven, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rise. St. 16. p. 107.
A comet was seen on the 14th of December, 1664, which lasted almost three months; and another, the 6th of April, 1665, which was visible fourteen days.—Appendix to Sherburn's Translation of Manilius, p. 241. Comets, it is well known, were in extremely bad repute among the astrologers of this period. Lilly, an unquestionable authority, treats these stars with extreme severity; hardly justifiable by his blunt averment, that "truth is truth, and a horse is a horse."[204] Dryden himself, not contented with turning these two blazing stars into farthing candles, has elsewhere, in this poem, charged them with causing the pestilence, and the great fire of London:
The utmost malice of the stars is past; And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, In their own plague and fire have breathed their last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.
The evil opinion which the astrologers entertained of comets, they summed up in these barbarous lines:
Octo Cometa mala hæc fulgendo per Æthera signat; Ventus, Sterilitas, Aqua, Pestis prædominantur Rixa, Tremor, moritur Dux, fit mutatio regni.
Note VI.
Victorious York did first, with famed success, To his known valour make the Dutch give place; St. 19. p. 108.
This battle, one of the most decisive and glorious fought during the war, our author had already celebrated in the verses to the Duchess, immediately preceding this poem; to which, and to the notes, the reader is referred. The famous Dutch admiral Opdam, in his flag-ship, the Eintracht, blew up, while closely engaged with the duke of York in the Royal Charles. Shortly afterwards, four or five Dutch vessels became unmanageable, fell on board of each other, and were all burned by a single fire-ship. Three others were destroyed in the same condition, and by the same means. Two Dutch vice-admirals were killed, whose ships, bearing away, drew many out of the line, so that Van Tromp, who fought gallantly, had, out of a hundred and three ships, only thirty left, to continue a retreating action. This victory was gained on the 3d. June, 1665.
Note VII.
And therefore doomed that Lawson should be slain. St. 20. p. 108.
Sir John Lawson, the gallant seaman here mentioned, rose from a mean station in the navy, to be an admiral under the Parliament. He distinguished himself in the Dutch war of 1653, by the incredible damage which the flying squadron he commanded did to the commerce of the States. He entered afterwards into some cabals with the fifth-monarchy-men, a set of pretended saints, who would hear of nothing but a theocracy. It does not appear, whether, on the part of Lawson, this was an alliance of policy or principle; but it cost the admiral an imprisonment under the vigilant administration of Cromwell. He was set at liberty, and declared by the Parliament vice-admiral of the Channel fleet, which he induced by his influence to declare for the Restoration. The admiral was rewarded for this service by the honour of knighthood, and high trust from his sovereign. In the great battle off Loestoff, sir John Lawson met the glorious death which Dryden has here commemorated. He was rear-admiral to the duke of York, and maintained his high character for valour and seaman-ship till late in the action, when he received a musket-shot in the knee, and by its effects was prevented from enjoying the victory, to which he had greatly contributed. He died a few days after the action, in full enjoyment of his country's triumph, and his own glory.
Note VIII.
Their chief blown up, in air, not waves, expired, To which his pride presumed to give the law. St. 22. p. 108.
The Dutch occasionally conducted their naval expeditions with great and insolent affectation of superiority. Upon one occasion their admiral sailed with a broom at his main-top-gallant-mast, to signify, he had swept the narrow seas of the English. Opdam, as already mentioned, blew up, while along side of the Duke of York. Some imputed this accident to the revenge of a negro slave; others, to some carelessness in the distribution of the ammunition.
Note IX.
Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring. St. 25. p. 109.
This alludes to an action variously judged of, and very much noted at the period. The Turkey and East India fleets of Holland, very richly laden, and consisting, according to D'Estrades, of ten Indiamen, seventeen ships from Smyrna, and twenty-eight from other ports, valued at 25 millions of livres, having gone north about to avoid encountering the English, and finding, that they could not with safety attempt to get into their own harbours even by that circuitous route, had taken shelter in the bay of Bergen. The earl of Sandwich, who now commanded the fleet, the duke of York having gone ashore, dispatched sir Thomas Tydiman with a squadron to attack them. It is said, that the king of Denmark privately encouraged this attempt, on condition of sharing the wealthy spoils of the Hollanders, and that messengers were actually dispatched by him, bearing orders to the governor of Bergen to afford them no protection. If this was so, the English admiral, after lying three days inactive before the bay, ruined the design by a premature attack upon the fleet ere the royal mandate had arrived, when the Danish governor took the natural and generous course of vindicating the neutrality of his harbour, permitted the Dutch to fortify themselves by erecting batteries on shore, and supported them by the fire from the castle, which covered the bay. Notwithstanding this interference of the Danes, which seems to have been unexpected, the English admiral bore into the bay, commenced the assault with great fury, and continued it until a contrary wind, joined to the brave opposition of the Dutch and Danes, obliged him to desist from the attempt. On this subject, we may, I think, conclude, that the attack was premature, if the admiral had good reason to expect the assistance of Denmark, but too long delayed if he was to depend on his own strength. The scheme is thus satirized by Rochester:
The Bergen business was well laid, Though we paid dear for that design, Had we not three days parleying staid, The Dutch fleet there, Charles, had been thine. Though the false Dane agreed to sell 'um, He cheated us, and saved Skellum. The Insipids.
Another wit of the time says,
To Bergen we with confidence made haste, And the secret spoils by hope already taste. Though Clifford in the character appear Of supra cargo to our fleet, and there Wearing a signet ready to clap on, And seize all for his master Arlington.[205] Now can our navy see the wished for port, But there (to see the fortune) was a fort; Sandwich would not be beaten, nor yet beat; Fools only fight, the prudent use to treat. His cousin Mountague, by court disaster, Dwindled into the wooden horse's master; To speak of peace seemed amongst all most proper, Had Talbot treated then of nought but copper; For what are forts, when void of ammunition, With friends, or foes, what would we more condition? Yet we, three days, till the Dutch furnished all, Men, powder, money, cannon—treat with wall: Then Tydeman, finding the Danes would not, Sent in six captains bravely to be shot, And Mountague, though drest like any bride, And aboard him too, yet was reached and died.
The following more serious account of the Bergen attempt is taken from a poet, who started with our author in the race of panegyric, on the exploits of the naval war. His work is entitled a Poem, being an Essay upon the Present War with the Dutch 1666, by John James.
Trusting the north as the securer way, They court the night for treasures of the day; Sweet spices, gums, and all the sun can boast, Or the indulgence of the Indian coast, Pay tribute to their hopes, which, lest they may Perish near home, in withered Norway stay; Where that rough Satyr, Bergen, is possessed Of the rich spoils of the luxurious east. The port was the dark burden of that womb, Whose liquid bowels are the greedy tomb Of trade and hope, by art improved to be From foes a refuge, boisterous winds, and sea. The worth and safety, though not equal fate Of this fair prize, might Jason's emulate; That yellow fleece, bulls hoofed with thunder kept, And a near watchful guard, that never slept. This cloistered, in the hostile harbour lay, Maintained by castles and a treacherous way. The English, that this proud return did wait, More conscious of revenge than guilty fate, Attempt, with one bold squadron of their fleet, To render vows, though not their hopes, complete. Obsequious to their courage, they dispense Through the sad lake a bloody influence; Which bears in sight of the unfaithful shore, And spoils the freight we would have saved before. Art, fury, all to ruin had designed These joys of peace, but the enamoured wind, Which, like a Phœnix, in that nest would lie, And with a surfeit of these odours die, Thus jealous grown, does with full cheeks oppose These flames, which ships dissembled to our foes. Retreating thence as lions, which some wile, Or stratagem, did of their prey beguile, We cleave the briny element, to meet Dodona, sacred to our Jove, the fleet.
Note X.
Nor wholly lost we so deserv'd a prey; For storms, repenting, part of it restor'd: Which, as a tribute from the Baltic sea, The British ocean sent her mighty lord. St. 31. p. 110.
The famous De Witt set sail at the head of the Dutch fleet in person, to relieve the ships, which were still detained in Bergen by the Danish governor. It seems they had found a new enemy in their old protector, who refused to let them sail, until they paid a ransom of 100,000 crowns. The arrival of De Witt made Alfeldt change his note, and the persecuted Hollanders sailed from their harbour of dubious refuge, at no heavier a composition, than leaving the cannon, which they had sent ashore, to mount the land batteries against the English. But in their return, De Witt's large fleet and valuable cargo were scattered in a storm: the vice-admiral, and rear-admiral of the East India fleet, ships of immense value, with several merchant vessels and men of war, were picked up by the English squadrons, and so furnished the tribute which Dryden alludes to in this and the following verses.
Note XI.
Let Munster's prelate ever be accurs'd, In whom we seek the German faith in vain. St. 37 p. 111.
Tacitus had informed our author, that the German faith was proverbial, "Nullos mortalium fide aut armis ante Germanos esse." Bertrand Von Der Ghalen, the warlike Bishop of Munster, whom the poet pronounces an exception to this honourable distinction of the Germans, was the only ally of Charles upon the Continent, during this war. He burst into the United States, at the head of a mercenary army of 20,000 men. With this force, he over-ran the province of Overyssell, where his soldiers distinguished themselves less by military valour, than by an exorbitant licence, rapine, and cruelty, which did little honour to their reverend general. But his progress was speedily checked by a French army; and, as the elector of Brandenburgh threatened his states with invasion, he found himself compelled to make a separate peace, assigning as a reason, amongst others, the irregularity of remitting the promised subsidies from England. This is rather inconsistent with Dryden's charge, that "money given, had tempted him to ill;" but in such cases, the party subsidized usually thinks he has received too little for his service, as those, who pay him, are apt to suppose he has had too much. Sir William Temple was dispatched, to prevent the Bishop from making the separate peace here complained of, but he did not arrive till after it had been signed.
Note XII.
With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite; France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave. St. 42. p. 112.
France, unwilling to expose her infant navy in a war with England, long endeavoured to mediate between the two great maritime states, and did not undertake to support the Dutch in then perilous conflict, until all means of negociation had been exhausted, and the tottering state of Holland rendered immediate aid necessary. About the same time, Denmark, after much vacillating and double-handed policy, at length openly united with France and Holland, against England. The French declaration of war was made in January 1665-6, and that of Denmark soon afterwards.
Note XIII.
Lewis had chased the English from his shore; But Charles, the French, as subjects, does invite. St. 43. p. 112.
By the French declaration of war, all intercourse was prohibited between the belligerent nations, and the subjects of England were ordered to leave France. But, in the English counter-declaration, this usual prohibitory clause was qualified by the king's declaration, "That all such of the French or Dutch nation remaining in his dominions, as should demean themselves dutifully, without corresponding with his enemies, should be safe in their persons and estates, and free from all molestation and trouble;" and further the king declared, "That if any of the French or Low Country subjects upon any reason should come into his kingdoms, they should be all protected in their persons and estates, and especially those of the reformed religion, whose interest should ever be particularly owned by him."—Ralph's History. Vol. I. p. 159.
Note XIV.
The double charge his subjects' love supplies, Who in that bounty to themselves are kind; So glad Egyptians see their Nilus rise, And in his plenty their abundance find.—St. 46. p. 112.
This beautiful and appropriate simile is applied to the liberal supply, voted by the House of Commons, mentioned in the address to the king, at the prorogation in 1665. After reminding the king of their engagement, to assist him with their lives and fortunes against the Dutch, the address proceeds: "The English man useth to speak as he writes, and the English parliament, to speak as they think. No security on earth can be greater than the engagement of your two houses of parliament. Sed quid verba audiam, dum facta videam! As a demonstration of their fidelity, I am commanded to present unto your Majesty this bill, whereby they have given into your Majesty twelve hundred and fifty thousand pounds, to be levied in two years, beginning from Christmas next, by quarterly payments, added to the former royal aid. And, that your Majesty's occasions may be supplied with ready money, we have, by the bill, prepared an undoubted security for all such persons as shall bring their monies unto the public bank of the Exchequer. As the rivers do naturally empty themselves unto the sea, so we hope the veins of gold and silver in this nation will plentifully run into this ocean, for the maintenance of your Majesty's just sovereignty of the seas." It is possible, that the quaint expressions, contained in the last sentence, suggested to Dryden the simile, which so far excels that of the speaker.
Note XV.
With equal power he does two chiefs create.—St. 47. p. 112.
The Duke of York being the heir apparent of the crown, it was not judged proper that he should expose himself in a second sea-fight, likely to prove as bloody and dangerous as that of the 3d June 1664. Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle were appointed to the command of the grand fleet, in the absence of the Earl of Sandwich, who was then absent, as ambassador in Spain. These two great men had neither of them been bred to the sea. Prince Rupert was well known by the distinguished part which he had taken for his uncle, Charles I., in the great civil war. When the royal cause became untenable on land, he long endeavoured to maintain it by sea, assuming for that purpose the command of the fleet, which had revolted from the Parliament to the Prince of Wales. The Prince did not relinquish his war against the Commonwealth, and their Spanish allies, until his whole fleet had been destroyed, by severe service and tempests. At the period of the Dutch war, age, and a long train of misfortunes, had chastened the original fire of his temper, and taught him that prudence, which he wanted in the civil wars; when, with his impetuous but ill-disciplined cavalry, he usually bore down all before him, but vanished from the field in pursuit of the vanquished, leaving his less successful friends exposed without support. In other respects, he was fitted for a great commander, both by his natural talents and acquired endowments, and was a great favourite with the nation, because, though a foreigner, he bore a heart truly English.
George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, the restorer of English monarchy, united in his person some very different qualities. With a steady, reserved, and even tardy manner, he was in action fierce and daring to the last degree; adopting the most desperate course, with the air and manner of the most cool deliberation. He had signalized himself against the Dutch, during the war of the commonwealth, being in the chief command of the fleet, when they received the dreadful defeat in 1653, to which our poet alludes in the following lines:
The Duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain The Carthage which he ruined rise once more; And shook aloft the fasces of the main, To fright those slaves with what they fell before.
The Duke accepted the joint command with Prince Rupert, in 1665, much against the advice of his friends, who accounted it rash in him to stake upon the issue of a battle the well-earned fame which he had acquired by signal successes in war, and by accomplishing a mighty revolution without bloodshed. But he resolved to exert his talents once more for his country in this trying crisis; a circumstance highly gratifying to the seamen, who crowded to man the fleet, saying, they were sure, "Honest George would see them well fed and duly paid;" a compliment more honourable than many of more courtly expression.
Note XVI.
Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, In number, and a famed commander, bold.—St. 54. p. 114.
When Prince Rupert and Albemarle were about to sail from the Downs, they received advice from the king, that the French had fitted out a strong squadron to join with the Dutch fleet, accompanied by a positive order, that Prince Rupert, with seventy men of war, should sail in quest of the French, and fight them before the intended junction. This order occasioned the separation of the fleet; a circumstance, which, as the intelligence concerning the supposed French squadron was totally false, occasioned a heavy, and, but for the bravery of Albemarle, an overwhelming disaster. On the first of June, the Duke descried the Dutch fleet, consisting of seventy six sail, under the famous De Ruyter, whereas he himself had not above fifty. After calling a council of war, in which it was agreed in spite of all odds to engage the enemy, the Duke began the battle, which was continued with incredible fury during that whole day. The event will be found in the ensuing notes.
Note XVII.
And as the built, so different is the fight; Their mounting shot is on our sails designed: Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light, And through the yielding planks a passage find. St. 62. p. 115.
The narrative of this fight, published by authority, has this passage. "It is certain, that they must every where have suffered a much greater loss of men than we, from the difference in our manner of fighting; for they, shooting high, and at a great distance, damaged us most in our rigging; and we, on the other hand, forbearing to shoot but when we came near, and then levelling most at the hulls, must needs have done more execution upon their men." The Dutch, on the other hand, did great damage to the rigging of the British squadron by the use of chain-shot, then a new invention:
Ruyter no less with virtuous fury burns, And prodigies for miracles returns; Yet he observed how still his iron balls Recoiled in vain against our oaken walls; How the hard pellets fell away as dead, By our inchanted timber fillipped. Leave then, said he, the invulnerable keel; We'll find their feeble, like Achilles' heel. He, quickly taught, pours in continual clouds Of charmed dilemmas through our sinewed shrouds; Forests of masts fall with their rude embrace, Our stiff sails mashed and netted into lace, Till our whole navy lay their wanton mark, Nor any ship could sail but as the ark: Shot in the wing, so at the fowler's call, The disappointed bird doth fluttering fall. Yet Monk, disabled, still such valour shews, That none into his mortal gripe dare close; So some old bustard maimed, yet loth to yield, Duels the fowler in Newmarket field. Instructions to a Painter, p. 2.
It is curious to observe how long this characteristic difference, betwixt the English mode of fighting and that of the seamen of all other nations, appears to have distinguished them.
Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought: But he, who meets all danger with disdain, Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, And steeple-high stood propt upon the main. St. 62. p. 115.
The daring spirit of Monk was not more conspicuous at any period of his adventurous life than in this grand and desperate action. Mulgrave avers he saw him charge a pocket-pistol, with the desperate design of firing it into the powder-room, if he should be reduced to extremity. In the course of the action, a chain-shot took away part of his breeches, without disconcerting the steady countenance of the wearer.[206] Having made a sudden tack to avoid a sand bank, his ship carried away her top-mast, so that he was compelled to lie bye for two or three hours to repair that damage, in the face of the enemy.
Note XIX.
Berkley alone, who nearest danger lay, Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet.—St. 67. p. 116.
Vice-admiral Sir William Berkley endeavoured to fight his way through the enemy, who were five to one. When his ship was a wreck, his crew almost cut to pieces, and himself desperately wounded, he continued to refuse quarter, killed with his own hand several of the enemy who attempted to board, and, at length, when mortally wounded by a musket-ball in the throat, retired into his cabin, where he was found dead, stretched at length upon the table, and covered with the blood which flowed from his wounds.
Note XX.
——— Joyful lines they hear Of ships, which, by their mould, bring new supplies; And in their colours Belgian lions bear.—St. 72. p. 117.
The Dutch, in the morning of the 2d of June, were reinforced by a fresh squadron of sixteen men of war, giving them a decided and dreadful superiority to the English, whom, at the very first, they had greatly outnumbered.
Note XXI.
"If number English courages could quell, We should at first have shun'd, not met our foes, Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell; Courage from hearts, and not from numbers grows." St. 76. p. 118.
The famous speech of Monk is thus given in the Lives of the Admirals.
"If we had dreaded the number of our enemies, we should have fled yesterday; but, though we are inferior to them in ships, we are in all things else superior. Force gives them courage; let us, if we need it, borrow resolution from the thoughts of what we have formerly performed. Let the enemy feel, that, though our fleet be divided, our spirit is entire. At the worst, it will be more honourable to die bravely in our element, than to be made spectacles to the Dutch. To be overcome is the fortune of war, but to fly is the fashion of cowards. Let us teach the world, that Englishmen had rather be acquainted with death than fear."—Vol. 2. p. 367.
Note XXII.
Our little fleet was now engaged so far, That like the sword-fish in the whale they fought. St. 79. p. 118.
The battle was renewed on the second day, with the same desperate courage, which had distinguished the first battle. The English charged, as was then the expression, twice through the whole Dutch fleet, doing and receiving infinite damage. But this unequal warfare could not last long, "when, at each tack, our little fleet grew less."
The English had by this time lost, at least, nine vessels sunk and taken; and Monk bearing away with twenty six, being all that remained in a condition to fight, was pursued by De Ruyter with nearly three times that number.
Close by, their fire-ships, like jackals, appear, Who on their lions for the prey attend. St. 82. p. 119.
Fire-ships, now only employed against fleets in harbour, and seldom even then, were at this time used during every great naval engagement. The Dutch wars, especially, were distinguished by the frequent use of these dreadful engines of destruction on both sides. The last instance, I believe, of their being employed in open sea in the British service, occurred in the engagement of Matthews and Lestock in the Mediterranean, where they did little execution. The reason of their disuse appears to be, that modern fleets consist of a few large vessels, which easily communicate by signal, and are little apt to fall into such confusion as that fire-ships can approach them with safety, and with any chance of effect. In the 17th century, fleets consisted of a very great number of comparatively small vessels, sometimes a hundred and upwards, which, from the imperfect nature of their signals, were perpetually getting into disorder, and affording opportunities for the fire-ships to act with all their fearful consequences. In the battle of Southwold Bay, in 1672, the gallant Earl of Sandwich, in his fine ship the Royal James, after sinking three fire-ships, was burned by a fourth; and the contest of the Harry with three fire-ships, in this very battle, will be found in a subsequent note.
Note XXIV.
He drew his mighty frigates all before, On which the foe his fruitless force employs: His weak ones deep into his rear he bore, Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise. St. 91. p. 120.
Dryden has here inverted the order of the Duke's retreat. His disabled or shattered ships were all ordered to stretch a-head, and he himself in the rear, with sixteen of his ablest vessels, his own occupying the centre, sustained all the efforts of the Dutch pursuers. The disabled vessels were therefore the headmost ships, and not placed in the rear, where, in the circumstances, they must inevitably have been taken.
Note XXV.
The foe approached; and one, for his bold sin, Was sunk, as he that touched the ark was slain. St. 94. p. 121.
The simile is taken, not very decently, from 1 Chronicles, Chap. XIII.
Verse 7. "And they carried the ark of God in a new cart, out of the house of Abinadab, and Uzza and Ahio drove the cart.
8. "And when they came to the threshing floor of Chidin, Uzza put forth his hand to hold the ark, for the oxen stumbled.
10. "And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzza, and he smote him, because he put his hand to the ark; and there he died before God."
Note XXVI.
For now brave Rupert from afar appears, Whose waving streamers the glad general knows. St. 105. p. 123.
The English, upon the 3d of June, seemed to have nothing left them save the glory of a desperate defence, when, about noon, a third fleet was descried, crowding every sail to the assistance of the vanquished English, or to complete the triumph of the victorious Hollanders. It might have been the French squadron under the Duke of Beaufort, and the naval power of England was ruined for ever. Albemarle, however, bore boldly down towards the advancing strangers, and, with inexpressible sensations, discovered Prince Rupert, with the white squadron of England, hastening to his relief. Betwixt the fleets of Albemarle and Rupert lay some dangerous shoals, noticed by Dryden in Stanza 114. On one of these, called the Galloper, Admiral Sir George Ayscue was so unfortunate as to strand his vessel, the Royal Prince, one of the largest in the fleet, and forced by his own seamen to strike his flag. He was made prisoner by the Dutch, who burned his ship, and, after leading him in a sort of triumph through various parts of the United Provinces, at length imprisoned him in the castle of Louverstein. Albemarle observing the cause of this disaster, and that the Dutch had sent a squadron of their fleet to the edge of the sands, as if to provoke the Prince, acquainted him by signal and message, that he should by no means bear up against that squadron, there being a dangerous sand between them; and that the appearance of the Dutch in that place was to tempt him into the toil. Skinner's Life of Monk. The English fleets, however, formed a junction, which completed the business of the third day's action.
Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, Still doubling ours, brave Rupert led the way. St. 119. p. 125.
On the morning of the 4th of June, this long and bloody contest was again renewed. The English were now the assailants, as in the first action. Prince Rupert, with his fresh squadron, led the van, and was followed by Albemarle. The fleets fought their way five times through and through each other; when, after much and desperate fighting on both sides, both the English admirals were disabled, and the combatants, after four days constant and bloody fighting, finally separated, as if by mutual consent.
This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes, And warns his tattered fleet to follow home; Proud to have so got off with equal stakes, Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome. St. 134. p. 128.
The poet is here more modest than the court of England, who claimed an absolute victory. Ralph says, with some justice, that "to recount the precise issue of this unparalleled engagement, and ascertain the loss on either side, seems to be alike impossible. Both nations claimed the honour of the victory, and both affronted the Common Father of the Universe with their impious acknowledgments, when they ought to have approached Him in sackcloth and ashes, for having wantonly sacrificed so many innocent, gallant, and meritorious men, in a dispute that common sense, and common honesty, might have adjusted in half an hour." History, Vol. I. p. 132. De Witt himself, the sworn foe of England, bore the following remarkable testimony to the gallantry of her seamen: "If the English were beat, their defeat did them more honour than all their former victories. No fleet but theirs could, after the first day's fight, have been brought to engage again. English men may be killed, English ships may be burned, but English courage is invincible." Quoted, in the "Lives of the Admirals," from a MS. history by Wicquefort.
Note XXIX.
Returned, he with the fleet resolved to stay; No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; Domestic joys and cares he puts away, For realms are households, which the great must guide. St. 138. p. 129.
The Duke of Albemarle was not more remarkable for bravery in action, than for his hatred of all corrupt practices in paying and victualling the navy. His presence accelerated the necessary repairs, while the sternness of his discipline repressed all those hateful peculations, by which the servants of the public sometimes betray their trust, and sap her dearest bulwark. The satirist alludes to this in the following lines, which he puts in the mouth of the Duchess of Albemarle, hailing her husband's return to port:
Well, George, in spite of them, there safe dost ride, Lessened in nought, I hope, but thy backside; For, as to reputation, this retreat Of thine exceeds their victories so great; Nor shalt thou stir from thence, by my consent, Till thou hast made the Dutch and them repent. Fall to thy work there, George, as I do here; Cherish the valiant up, cowards cashier: See that the men have pay, and beef, and beer. Find out the cheats of the four millioneer,— Out of the very beer they sell the malt, Powder of pow der, from powder'd beef the salt. Put thy hand to the tub;—instead of ox, They victual with French pork that hath the p—. Never such cotqueens by small arts to wring; Ne'er such ill huswives in the managing; Pursers at sea know fewer cheats than they; Mariners on shore less madly spend their pay. See that thou hast new sails thyself, and spoil All their sea-market, and their cable coil. Look that good chaplains on each ship do wait, Nor the sea-diocese be impropriate: Look to the sick and wounded prisoners; all Is prize,—they even rob the hospital: Recover back the prizes too; in vain We fight, if all be taken that is ta'en. Instructions to a Painter.
Note XXX.
As those who unripe veins in mines explore, On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, Till time digest the yet imperfect ore, And know it will be gold another day. St. 139. p. 129.
It was believed by the ancient chemists, that gold (the noblest of metals) was formed in the earth by a sort of chemical process, and might be detected in an imperfect state; in which case the miner's only resource was to close up the vein, and leave Nature to perfect the great work. It was this rooted and inveterate belief which caused so many to give faith to the fable of alchemy. For, if gold was thus gradually formed in the veins of the earth, the alchemist had only to discover the process which Nature pursued in her task, and he obtained the grand secret.
Note XXXI.
The goodly London, in her gallant trim, The Phœnix-daughter of the vanished old. St. 151. p. 131.
The former vessel, called the London, had been destroyed by fire. The city now built a new vessel, under the name of the Loyal London, and presented her as a free gift to Charles. This ship was a favourite theme of the poets of the day:
Whether by chance or plot the London died, She'll rise the Loyal London purified. That child, which doth from loyal parents spring, May brag that he's the godson of a king. — — — — — — No sooner was blown out the London, when London took breath, and blew her in again.
Another bard not only compares the ship to the city from which she derived her name, but proves the captain to be the Lord Mayor, with this slight difference, that he carries his own sword, instead of having a sword-bearer to take that trouble. The passage occurs in a "Poem upon his Majesty's late declarations for toleration, and publication of war against the Hollander, by T. S. of Grey's Inn, Esq."
The Loyal London follows next to these; Some call her the metropolis of seas, About whose walls not Thames but seas now cling, Wondering to see a city thus on wing.
Wondering to see a city thus on wing. Venice no more shall Neptune's darling be, That stays ashore while this pursues the sea; Here valiant Spragge (like the Lord Mayor) appears, Only this difference—Spragge his own sword bears, My lord's supported is by other hands; This rules the sea, while t'other rules the lands: Nor is there wanting to increase his state A cap of maintenance; since his sober pate Still to his active hands commends advice, 'Tis happy to be valiant and wise.
This second London had also the ill hap to perish by fire, being burned by the Dutch, in the disgraceful surprise of Chatham, 1667.
Note XXXII.
O truly royal! who behold the law, And rule of Beings in your Maker's mind. St. 166. p. 134.
In this and the preceding stanza, our author, from the improved arts of ship-building and navigation, is led to compliment the Royal Society, then newly instituted, of which he was himself a member.
Already were the Belgians on our coast.—St. 168. p. 134.
Notwithstanding the exertions made by Charles and his ministers, and celebrated with such minuteness by the poet, the Dutch fleet, which needed fewer repairs, was first at sea, and their admirals braved the coast of England, dating letters and dispatches, "From the fleet in the mouth of the river of London." The English were about a fortnight behind their enemies in preparation, owing chiefly to the difficulty of manning their fleet.
Old expert Allen, loyal all along, Famed for his action on the Smyrna fleet. St. 172. p. 135.
Sir Thomas Allen, vice-admiral of the White, and, as I believe, an old cavalier, opened the war by an action of some consequence in the Mediterranean. With a squadron of eight or nine ships, he attacked the Dutch homeward-bound Smyrna fleet, near Cadiz; consisting of forty merchant vessels, many of which were in these days capable of a stout resistance, and a convoy of four ships of war. Allen defeated them totally, killed their commodore, Brackel, took or sunk four of their richest ships, and drove the rest into the bay of Cadiz. He commanded the van in the engagement of July 25, 1666.
Note XXXV.
Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight; Who first bewitched our eyes with Guinea gold. St. 173. p. 135.
Sir Robert Holmes, rear-admiral of the White, is called the General's Achates, from the eager fidelity with which he supported Albemarle. The injuries which the African company sustained from the Dutch, and particularly their taking Cape Corfe Castle, had occasioned Sir Robert Holmes' being dispatched to the coast of Guinea in 1661, for the purpose of making reprisals. Having done them some damage on this visit, he returned for the same purpose in 1663; when he took Goree, and the Dutch merchant-men lying there, of whom he made prize, though the nations were not actually at war. He was repulsed from St George Del Mina, the chief of the Dutch forts on the coast of Africa, but was successful in taking Cape Corfe, the principal object of his voyage. He also took from the Dutch a colony in North America, called Nova Belgia, and bestowed on it the present name of New York. The Dutch preferred a heavy complaint against Holmes, for these warlike aggressions. But it would appear, that, if he had exceeded his instructions, he had not disobliged those by whom they were given; for, although he was committed to the Tower, he was speedily liberated, upon pleading, that he had found, on board a Dutch prize, instructions to seize the English fort at Coromantin.
Note XXXVI.
With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, Whom his high courage to command had brought. St. 174. p. 135.
Sir Edward Spragge, knighted by King Charles, for his gallant behaviour on the 3d of June 1665, was one of the best and bravest officers whom the English navy (Leonum Nutrix) has ever produced. He distinguished himself in the battle of four days, already celebrated; and in that of the 25th of July, which Dryden is proceeding to detail, he carried a flag under Sir Jeremiah Smith, admiral of the Blue. The brunt of the battle fell upon this division, because, itself the weakest, it was encountered by that of Van Tromp, the strongest and best manned squadron of the enemy. Spragge afterwards distinguished himself by defending Sheerness, and by chastising the Algerines. But the last scene of his life crowned all his naval achievements. In the battle of the 11th of August 1672, Tromp and he engaged like personal enemies, so that the conflict resembled less a chance rencontre in the confusion of battle, than a fixed and appointed duel between these admirals. Both were forced to shift their flag aboard other vessels, and instantly renewed with the utmost fury their individual contest. In shifting his flag for the second time, a chance cannon-ball pierced Sir Edward Spragge's barge, and that gallant admiral was drowned, to the grief, it is said, of Tromp, his generous enemy. He left behind him, according to the account both of friends and foes, the character of one of the bravest men and best commanders who ever fought at sea; nor was he less lamented by his friends on shore, for those civilized manners, and that gentle disposition, which almost always attend enlightened valour.
Harman, who did twice-fired Harry save, And in his burning ship undaunted fought.—St. 174. p. 135.
This alludes to an exploit of Sir John Harman, who commanded the Henry in the four days combat. He belonged to the Blue squadron, which broke through the Dutch fleet; but, the Swiftsure and Essex being taken, his single vessel had great part of the Zealand division to contend with.—"His ship being disabled, the Dutch Admiral, Evertz, called to Sir John, and offered him quarter, who answered, 'No, sir, it is not come to that yet,' and immediately discharged a broadside; by which Evertz was killed, and several of his ships damaged, which so discouraged their captains, that they quitted the Henry, and sent three fire-ships to burn her. The first grappled on her starboard quarters, and there began to arise so thick a smoke, that it was impossible to perceive where the irons were fixed. At last, when the ship began to blaze, the boatswain of the Henry threw himself on board of it, discovered, and removed the grappling irons, and in the same instant, jumped on board his own ship. He had scarce done this, before another fire-ship was fixed on the larboard; this did its business so effectually, that the sails were quickly on fire, which frightened the chaplain and fifty men over board. Upon this, Sir John drew his sword, and threatened to kill any man who should attempt to provide for his own safety, by leaving the ship. This obliged them to endeavour to put out the fire, which in a short time they did; but the cordage being burned, the crossbeam fell down, and broke Sir John's leg; at which instant, the third fire-ship bore down, but four pieces of cannon, laden with chain-shot, disabled her. So that, after all, Sir John brought his ship into Harwich, where he repaired her as well as he could; and, notwithstanding his broken leg, put to sea again to seek the Dutch."[207]
Note XXXVIII.
Young Hollis, on a muse by Mars begot, Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds: Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, His right hand doubly to his left succeeds.—St. 175. p. 135.
Sir Frescheville Hollis, mentioned in this verse, was the son of Frescheville Hollis, of Grimsby, by his second wife, Mrs Elizabeth Molesworth. His father signalized himself in the civil wars, as appears from a sign manual of Charles II., dated Jersey, December 4th, 1649, authorising him to bear, or, two piles gules, quarterly, with his paternal coat, and setting forth,—that in parliament he strenuously asserted the king's prerogative; and, being colonel of a regiment in time of the rebellion, behaved with exemplary valour against the rebels, in the several battles of Kenton, Banbury, Brantford, Newark, Atherton, Bradford, and Newbury; and when the rebels had possessed themselves of the chief places of England, he with no less fortitude engaged with those that were besieged by them in Colchester.
How Sir Frescheville Hollis' mother merited the title of a muse, or by what writings he signalised himself, I am really ignorant. There were few men of quality who did not at this time aspire to something of a literary character. As the taste for conceits began to decay before the turn for ridicule and persiflage, which characterised the wits of the court of Charles, Dryden was often ridiculed for the pedigree he has assigned to this literary champion. Buckingham alludes to it in his "Poetical Reflections on the Poem of Absalom and Achitophel," where he calls Dryden, a
—— —— metaphor of man, Got on a muse by Father Publican: For 'tis not harder much if we tax nature, That lines should give a poet such a feature, Than that his verse a hero should us shew, Produced by such a feat, as famous too.
The noble author of this flat parody informs us, by marginal notes, that the "Father Publican" means a committee man, and adds on the word Hero, "See's Sir Denzil Hollis." By which, by the way, we may notice, that his Grace's accuracy was much of a piece with his poetry; for the hero's name was Frescheville.
Sir Frescheville Hollis was a man of high spirit and enterprise. He lost an arm in the great sea-fight of the 3d June, a circumstance alluded to in the verses. He was Rear-Admiral of the squadron, with which Sir Robert Holmes attacked the Dutch Smyrna fleet, near the Isle of Wight, in 1671-2. Finally, he was killed in the desperate action off Southwould bay, 28th May, 1672. There is a remarkable passage in his will, made on the 17th May, 1665; by which, after stating he was going to sea, as commander of a man-of-war, he directs,—"In case my body should be brought to land to be buried, I desire that some stone may be laid over me, with this inscription:—Know, reader, whatsoever thou be, if I had lived, it was my intent not to have owed my memory to any other monument but what my sword should raise for me of honour and victory."—Collins' Historical Collections of the families of Cavendish, Hollis, &c. page 74.
Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, The midmost battles hastening up behind.—St. 186. p. 137.
The particulars of the memorable engagement, thus introduced and described in the following stanzas, are thus narrated in the "Lives of the Admirals." Vol. 11.
"On the 25th of July, about noon, the English came up with the enemy, off the North-foreland. Sir Thomas Allen with the White squadron began the battle, by attacking Evertz. Prince Rupert and the Duke, about one in the afternoon, made a desperate attack upon de Ruyter, and, after fighting about three hours, were obliged to go on board another ship. In this space, the White squadron had entirely defeated their enemies; Admiral Evertz, his vice-admiral de Vries, and his rear-admiral Kœnders, being all killed, the vice-admiral of Zealand taken, and another ship of 50 guns burnt. The prince and duke fought de Ruyter ship to ship, disabled the Guelderland of 66 guns, which was one of his seconds, killed the captain of another, and mortally wounded two more, upon which the Dutch squadron began to fly. However, vice-admiral Van-Nes stood bravely by de Ruyter, and received great damage; yet, being at last deserted by all but seven ships, they yielded to necessity, and followed the rest of their fleet as fast as they could. De Ruyter's ship was so miserably torn, and his crew so dispirited and fatigued, that he could have made but little resistance, and nothing but the want of wind hindered the English from boarding him. As for admiral Van Tromp, he was engaged with Sir Jeremiah Smith at a distance, and so could not assist his friends. As his was the strongest squadron of the Dutch fleet, and Smith's the weakest of the English, we had not great advantage on that side; yet some we had, his vice-admiral's ship being disabled, and his rear-admiral killed; which, however, did not hinder his fighting it out with much bravery, as long as there was light.
"Admiral de Ruyter continued his retreat that night, and the next day Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle pursued him with part of the Red squadron, as fast as the wind would permit. A fire-ship bore down upon the Dutch admiral, and missed very little of setting him on fire. They then cannonaded again, when de Ruyter found himself so hard pressed, and his fleet in such eminent danger, that, in a fit of despair, he cried out, 'My God, what a wretch am I! amongst so many thousand bullets, is not there one to put me out of my pain?' By degrees, however, he drew near their own shallow coast, where the English could not follow him. Upon this occasion, Prince Rupert insulted the Dutch admiral, by sending a little shallop, called the Fanfan, with two small guns on board, which, being rowed near de Ruyter's vessel, fired upon him for two hours together; but at last a ball from the Dutch admiral so damaged his contemptible enemy, that the crew were forced to row, and that briskly, to save their lives. The enemy being driven over the flats into the wylings, the English went to lie at Schonevelt, the usual rendezvous of the Dutch fleets."
Note XL.
O famous leader of the Belgian fleet, Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, Because he did not of his Rome despair.—St. 194. p. 139.
Michael Adrien de Ruyter, a gallant and successful admiral, was born in 1607, chosen lieutenant-admiral of the States in 1666, and died in 1676, being mortally wounded in an engagement with the French in Sicily. Dryden compares him to Terentius Varro, who commanded the Romans at the battle of Cannæ, and to whom, after that dreadful defeat, the senate voted their thanks,—"Quia de Republica non desperasset."
Note XLI.
Then let them know, the Belgians did retire Before the patron saint of injured Spain. St. 197. p. 139.
The battle was fought on the 25th of July, which is the day of St James, the tutelar saint of Spain. From this circumstance, the poet takes an opportunity, in the following stanzas, to inculcate a political doctrine, which the war with Holland and France had rendered fashionable. It contains an impeachment of the policy of Queen Elizabeth, who, by supporting the Netherlands against Philip of Spain, laid, as our author contends, the foundation for rebellion, and the establishment of a republic in England. The power of the Spanish monarchy, the poet avers, was slower in its growth, and a less reasonable object of jealousy to the English, than the more active and energetic governments of France and Holland.
Note XLII.
But whate'er English to the blessed shall go, And the fourth Henry or first Orange meet, Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, And him detesting a Batavian fleet. St. 201. p. 140.
The poet here follows up the doctrine he has laid down, by a very bold averment, that Henry IV. of France, and the first Prince of Orange, instructed in sound policy by their translation to the blessed, would, the one disown the war against Henry III. into which he was compelled to enter to vindicate his right of succession to the crown against the immediate possessor, and the other detest the Dutch naval power, although the only means which could secure his country's independence.
Note XLIII.
Nor was this all: in ports and roads remote, Destructive fires among whole fleets we send; Triumphant flames upon the waters float, And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. St. 204. p. 140.
Immediately after the battle of the 25th, the victorious fleet of England sailed for the Dutch coast, to attack the islands of Vlie and Schelling; for which purpose, a squadron, well manned, and with a sufficient number of fire-ships, was detached under the command of Sir Robert Holmes. "On the 8th of July, about seven in the morning, this squadron weighed, divided from the rest of the fleet, and came to anchor about a league from the Buoys, where they met the prince's pleasure-boat, called the Fanfan, who had discovered in the harbour a considerable number of ships near the Vlie, which proved to be 170 merchant-ships, the least of which was not less than 200 ton burden, with two men of war, which had lately conveyed near a hundred of the aforesaid ships from the northward, homeward-bound, some from the Straits, some from Guinea, some from Russia, some from the East countries; the rest were outward-bound ships, all of which likewise were very richly laden.
"Sir Robert Holmes, considering that, if he should proceed, as his design was first, to attempt a descent upon the land, that numerous fleet might possibly pour in such numbers of men, as might render the success hazardous, resolved to begin with the ships; and, accordingly, having ordered the Advice and the Hampshire to lie without the Buoys, he weighed with the rest of his fleet; and, the wind being contrary, he turned, with much ado, into Schelling road, where the Tyger came to anchor, and immediately Sir Robert went on board the Fanfan, and hoisted his flag, upon which the officers came on board him, and there it was ordered that the Pembroke, which drew the least water, with the fire-ships, should fall in amongst the enemy's fleet, with what speed they could. Captain Brown, with his fire-ships, chose very bravely to lay the biggest man of war aboard, and burned him downright. Another fire-ship, running up at the same time to the other man of war, he, backing his sails, escaped the present execution of the fire-ship, but so as to run himself by it on ground, where he was presently taken by some of the long-boats, and fired. The other three fire-ships clapped the three great merchant-men on board, which carried flags in their main-tops, and burned them. This put their fleet into great confusion, which Sir Robert Holmes perceiving, made a signal for all the officers to come on board again, and presently gave orders that Sir William Jennings, with all the boats that could be spared, should take the advantage, and fall in, sink, burn, and destroy all they could, but with a strict command that they should not plunder. The execution was so well followed, each captain destroying his share, some twelve, some fifteen merchant-men, that, of the whole fleet, there escaped not above eight or nine ships, one of which was a Guinea man of war, of 24 guns, and three small privateers. These ships, being driven up into a narrower corner of the stream, served to protect four or five merchant men that were a-head of them, where it was not possible for our boats to come at them, though even these few were much damaged.
"The next day, being the 10th of August, it was found more expedient to land upon the coast of Schelling, than upon Vlie, which was performed by Sir Robert Holmes, with eleven companies, in his long-boats, and he landed with little or no opposition. When he came on shore, he left one company to secure his boats, and with the other ten marched three miles up into the country, to the capital town, called Brandaris, in which there were upwards of a thousand fine houses; where, keeping five companies upon the skirt of the town, to prevent any surprise of the enemy, he sent the other five to set fire to the place: But, finding them somewhat slow to execute that order, and fearing they might be tempted to forget themselves in the pillage, he was himself forced to set fire to some houses to the windward, the sooner to dispatch the work, and hasten his men away, which burned with such violence, that in half an hour's time most part of the town was in a light flame. This place was reported, by those who were found in it, to have been very rich, and so it appeared by some of the soldiers' pockets; but very few people were to be seen there, having had time to escape from the danger, except some old men and women, who were used by the English, after they fell into their hands, with all possible gentleness and humanity.
"This blow greatly affected the Dutch, who, according to their own accounts, suffered the loss of near six millions of guilders; and, if we take the ships into this computation, they confess they were losers to the amount of eleven millions, or one million, one hundred thousand pounds sterling."—Lives of the Admirals, Vol. II. p. 269, from the account of Sir Robert Holmes.
Note XLIV.
Yet London, empress of the northern clime, By a high fate thou greatly didst expire; Great as the world's, which, at the death of Time, Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire. St. 212. p. 142.
"Esse quoque in fatis reminiscitur, adfore tempus, Quo mare, quo tellus, correptaque regia cœli Ardeat; et mundi moles operosa laboret." Ovid. Metam. Lib. I.
The dreadful Fire of London befel almost ere the inhabitants had done with rejoicing over the flames which consumed the fleet at Vlie, and the town of Brandaris. This horrible conflagration took its rise in the house of one Farryner, an obscure baker in Pudding-lane, near New Fish Street. It broke out on the night preceding the 2d September, 1666, with astonishing fury; and the houses in the lane, and its neighbourhood, being entirely constructed of timber, warped, and dried by a long drought, its progress was soon so rapid, that the inhabitants were content to escape from it with their lives, without attempting to save their moveables, far less to intercept the progress of the conflagration. In the morning, the attempts to stop a fire, now become so general, and which raged amidst such combustible buildings, proved totally ineffectual. The narrowness of the streets, and the nature of the houses was such, that, where one house was on fire, the devastation soon became general; and a strong east wind (a Belgian wind, as Dryden calls it), prevailing through the whole day, the flames, by various means of approach, occupied and surrounded the greater part of the city, properly so called. The magazines of naval stores, pitch, tar, hemp, dried wood, and other materials for shipping, which occupied the yards by the side of the river, soon caught the flames, to which they afforded a most horrible supply of strength and nourishment. All help seemed now to be in vain; for it is one thing to quench a fire, which has only occupied a few houses, and against which all the skill and exertion of those best qualified to check its progress can be at once directed, and another to extinguish a conflagration which occupies many streets, and which, if quelled in one spot where skillfully opposed, is triumphant in many others, where its ravages are only the object of wonder and lamentation to the heartless and ignorant citizens. At length universal destruction and dismay prevented the adoption of uniform or effectual measures against the destruction which seemed to impend in every quarter. The progress and extinction of this horrible fire will be learned from the text, and the following notes.
Note XLV.
The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice; About the fire into a dance they bend, And sing their Sabbath notes with feeble voice. St. 223. p. 144.
This most beautiful stanza requires but little illustration. London Bridge, as early as Shakespeare's time, was a place allotted for affixing the heads of persons executed for treason. Thus Catesby to Hastings,
The princes both make high account of you— —For they account his head upon the bridge.
The skulls of the regicides, of the fifth-monarchy insurgents, of Philips, Gibb, Tongue, and other fanatics executed for a conspiracy in 1662, were placed on the Bridge, Towerhill, Temple-bar, and other conspicuous places of elevation; that of the famous Hugh Peters, in particular, was stationed upon the bridge. The Sabbath notes, imputed to this assembly of fanatic spectres, are the infernal hymns chaunted at the witches' Sabbath; a meeting, concerning which antiquity told and believed many strange things.
Note XLVI.
Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But feared the fate of Simois would return. St. 232. p. 145.
Dryden, in the hurry of composition, has here made a slight inaccuracy. It was not Simois, but Xanthus, otherwise called Scamander, who, having undertaken to drown Achilles, was nearly dried up by the devouring fires of Vulcan. He called, indeed, upon his brother river to assist him in his undertaking, but Simois appears to have maintained a prudent neutrality. See the Iliad, Book XXI.
Note XLVII.
Now day appears, and with the day the king. St. 238. p. 146.
The king, by his conduct during this emergency, gained more upon the hearts of his subjects, than by any action of his life. Completely awakened, by so dreadful an emergence, from his usual lethargy of pleasure and indolence, he came into the now half-burned city, with his brother and the nobility, and gave an admirable specimen of what his character was capable, when in a state of full exertion. Not contented with passive expressions of sorrow and sympathy, he issued the most prudent orders, and animated their execution by his presence. His anxiety was divided betwixt the task of stopping the conflagration, and the no less necessary and piteous duty of relieving those thousands, who, having lost their all by the fire, had neither a morsel of food, nor a place of shelter. For the one purpose, he spared neither commands, threats, example, nor liberal rewards, which he lavished with his own hand; for the other, he opened his naval and military magazines, and distributed among the miserable and starving sufferers, the provisions designed for his fleet and army. In fine, such were his exertions, and so grateful were his people, that they deemed his presence had an almost supernatural power, and clamourously entreated not to be deprived of it, when, after the fire was quenched, he was about to leave London.
Note XLVIII.
The powder blows up all before the fire. St. 245. p. 147.
"So many houses were now burning together, that water could not be had in sufficient quantities where it was wanted. The only remedy left was, to blow up houses at convenient distances from those which were on fire, and to make, by that means, void spaces, at which the fury of the conflagration should spend itself for want of fuel. But this means also proved ineffectual; for the fire, in some places, made its way by means of the combustible part of the rubbish of the ruined houses, not well cleared, and in others, by flakes of burning matter of different kinds, which were carried through the air, by the impetuous wind, to great distances. And the city being at that time almost all built of very old timber, which had besides been parched and scorched by the sun the whole preceding summer, one of the hottest and dryest that had been ever known, it came to pass that, wherever such fiery matter chanced to light, it seldom wanted fit fuel to work and feed upon."—Baker's Chronicle, p. 642. Edit. 1730.
Note XLIX.
The days were all in this lost labour spent; And, when the weary king gave place to night, His beams he to his royal brother lent, And so shone still in his reflective light. St. 253. p. 149.
The Duke of York was as active and vigilant as his brother upon this melancholy occasion. His exertions and seasonable directions, prevented the fire from breaking out afresh from the Inner Temple, after it had been got under in other places of the town. Yet the idle calumny, which stigmatized the Roman Catholics, as the authors of the conflagration, was often extended to James himself. In that tissue of falsehood and misrepresentation, which Titus Oates entitled, "A Picture of the Late King James," he charges him "with beholding the flames with joy, and the ruins with much rejoicing," p. 30, and says he would have impeached him, as an accessary to the raising of that fire, had he not promised to Prince Rupert to bring forward no accusation that could hurt the king; "for I could not charge you," says he, "but must charge him too." In which case, by the way, this able witness would have made the king accessary to his own murder, which, according to Oates' own evidence, was to have been perpetrated during the fire, had not the hearts of the Jesuits failed them, on seeing the zeal with which he laboured to extinguish it.
Note L.
The most, in fields, like herded beasts, lie down, To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor. St. 258. p. 149.
In this, and foregoing verses, the miseries of those, whose houses were consumed, are strikingly painted. Many fled for refuge to the houses of friends, and lodged there the remnants of their property, which they had been able to save. These were often forced to abandon their places of asylum, by a fresh invasion of the devouring element, and to yield up to its rage all which they had before rescued. At length, distrusting safety in the city itself, the villages in its vicinity soon became filled with fugitives, till, in the end, no place of refuge was left but the open fields, where thousands remained for several nights, without shelter, watching the progress of the flames, which were consuming the metropolis.
Note LI.
O let it be enough what thou hast done, When spotted deaths ran armed through every street, With poisoned darts, which not the good could shun, The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet. St. 267. p. 151.
In 1665, the plague broke out in London with the most dreadful fury. In one year, upwards of 90,000 inhabitants were cut off by this frightful visitation. The citizens were driven into the country, and so desolate was the metropolis, through death and desertion, that the grass is said actually to have grown in Cheapside.
Note LII.
Thy threatnings, Lord, as thine, thou mayst revoke; But, if immutable and fixed they stand, Continue still thyself to give the stroke, And let not foreign foes oppress thy land.—St. 270. p. 151.
The poet puts into the prayer of Charles the solemn and striking choice of David, when, as a penalty for his presumption in numbering the children of Israel, he was compelled to make an election between three years famine, three years subjugation to his enemies, or three days pestilence. "And David said unto God, I am in a great strait: let me fall now into the hand of the Lord, for very great are his mercies; but let me not fall into the hand of man." Dryden had already, in Stanza 265, paraphrased the patriotic prayer of David: "Let thy hand, I pray thee, O Lord my God, be on me, and on my father's house, but not on thy people, that they should be plagued." Chron. Book I. ch. xxi.
Note LIII.
Nor could thy fabric, Paul's, defend thee long, Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker's praise; Though made immortal by a poet's song, And poets songs the Theban walls could raise. St. 275. p. 152.
Waller had addressed a poem to Charles I. upon his Majesty's repairing St Paul's. Denham, in the commencement of "Cowper's Hill," alludes both to the labours of the monarch, and of the poet:
Paul's, the late theme of such a muse, whose flight Has bravely reached and soared above thy height, Now shalt thou stand, though sword, or time, or fire, Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire; Secure whilst thee the best of poets sings, Preserved from ruin by the best of kings.
The fire of London, however, neither respected the labours of Charles, the song of Waller, nor the prophecy of Sir John Denham. During the conflagration, as St Paul's was in an insulated situation, and constructed of strong stone-work, it was long thought to be in no danger from the fire, and many of the sufferers employed it as a place of deposit for the wreck of their goods and fortunes. But the whole adjoining buildings in the churchyard being in a light flame, it became impossible, even for the massy fabric of the cathedral, to resist the combustion. The wood arches and supports being consumed, the stone-work gave way with a most horrible crash, and buried the whole edifice in a pile of smoking ruins.
Note LIV.
He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, And eager flames drive on to storm the rest. St. 280. p. 153.
The inscription on the monument states, that the fire consumed eighty-nine churches, the city-gates, Guildhall, many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, a vast number of stately edifices, thirteen thousand two hundred dwelling houses, four hundred streets. Three hundred and seventy-three acres within the city walls, and sixty-three acres and three roods without the walls, remained heaped with the smoking ruins of the houses, which had once occupied them.
Note LV.
The vanquished fires withdraw from every place.—St. 282. p. 153.
About ten o'clock of the evening of Tuesday the 5th of September, after the fire had raged for three days, the high east wind, which had been the means of forcing on its ravages, began to abate, and, in proportion, the efforts used to stop the progress of the flames became effectual. In some places, houses being opportunely blown up prevented the further spreading of the fire; in others, the flames, spent for lack of fuel, seemed to go out of themselves. On the morning of the 6th, the conflagration was totally extinguished.
The prejudices of the times assigned different causes for this tragical event, according to the political principles of the discordant parties. Most agreed, that the fire was raised by design; for, although the multitude are content to allow, that a private person may die suddenly of a natural disorder, or that a cottage may be consumed by accidental fire; yet the death of a king, or the conflagration of a metropolis, must, according to their habits of thinking, arise from some dark and dismal plot, planned, doubtless, by those, whose religious or political sentiments are most remote from their own. The royalists accused the fanatics; the puritans the papists, of being the raisers of this dreadful fire. Some suspected even the king and duke of York; though it is somewhat difficult to see any advantage they could derive from burning a city, which had been just loading them both with treasures. The Monument, whose inscription adopts one of these rash opinions, is a more stately, but not a more respectable, record of prejudice, than the stone figure in Smithfield, whose tablet declares, the fire must have been specially and exclusively a judgment for the crime of Gluttony, since it began in Pudding-Lane, and ended in Pye-Corner!
An event so signally calamitous called forth, as may be readily supposed, the condolence and consolations, such as they were, of the poets of the day. One author, who designs himself J. A. Fellow of King's College, Cambridge, poured forth verses "Upon the late lamentable Fire in London, in an humble imitation of the most incomparable Mr Cowley his Pindaric strain." This usurper of the Theban lyre informs us, that
About those hours which silence keep. To tempt the froward world to ease; Just at the time when, clothed with subtile air. Guilty spirits use to appear; When the hard students to their pillows creep; (All but the aged men that wake, Who in the morn their slumbers take,) When fires themselves are put to sleep, (Only the thrifty lights that burn, and melancholy persons please;) Just then a message came, Brought by a murmuring wind; (Not to every obvious flame, Thousand of those it left behind.) And chose a treacherous heap of sparks, Which buried in their ashes lay; Which, when discovered by some secret marks, The air fan'd the pale dust away: What less than Heaven could ere this message send? The embers glowing, waked, and did attend. In an unusual tone The embassy delivered was; The teeming air itself did groan, Nor for its burden could it farther pass. Their dialects, but to themselves unknown, Only by sad effects we see, They did agree, To execute the great decree; And all with the same secrecy conspire, That as heaven whispered to the air, the air should to the fire. The drowsy coals no sooner understand The purport of their large command, And that the officious wind did there attend Its needful aid to lend, But suddenly they seek out The work they were to go about; And sparks, that had before inactive lain, Each separate had its portion ta'en; Though scattered for a while, designed to meet again. Thus far contrived the wary fire, Thinking how many 'twould undo; Fearing their just complaint, And the perpetual restraint; It winked, as one would think 'twould fain Have slept again; Had not the cruel wind rose higher, Which forced the drooping coals revive, To save themselves alive. Thus without fresh supply of food, Not able to subsist, Much less resist A breath by which they were so rudely kist, They seized a neighbouring stack of wood, Which straight into one horrid flame did turn, Not as it stood designed to burn. Thus, while each other they oppose. Poor mortals trace the mighty foes, By the vast desolations each makes where'er he goes.
Besides this choice imitation of Cowley, we have "Londini quod reliquum, or London's Remains," in Latin and English; "Actio in Londini Incendiarios, the Conflagration of London, poetically delineated;" Londinenses Lacrymæ, or "London's tears mingled with her ashes;" and, doubtless, many other poems on the same memorable event.
Note LVIII.
Not with more constancy the Jews, of old, By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent Their royal city did in dust behold, Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.—St. 290. p. 155.
When Cyrus conquered Babylon, he restored the Jewish tribes to their native land, after seventy years captivity. The mixed feelings, with which they began to rebuild their ruined temple and city, are emphatically described in the book of Ezra, chap. iii.
"11. And they sung together by course, praising and giving thanks unto the Lord, because he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever towards Israel. And all the people shouted with a great shout when they praised the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid.
"12. But many of the priests and Levites, and chief of the fathers, who were ancient men, that had seen the first house, when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, wept with a loud voice, and many shouted loud for joy.
"13. So that the people could not discover the noise of the shout of joy from the noise of the weeping of the people; for the people shouted with a loud shout, and the noise was heard afar off."
Note LIX.
Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-raised Jove, from his dark prison freed, Those weights took off that on his planet hung, Will gloriously the new-laid works succeed. St. 292. p. 155.
According to the jargon of astrology, a trine, or triangular conjunction of planets, was supposed to be eminently benign to mankind. To this Dryden adds the circumstance of the planet Jove being in his ascension, as a favourable aspect. Our poet was not above being seriously influenced by these fooleries; and I dare say will be found, on reference to any almanack of 1666, to have given a very accurate account of the relative state of the heavenly bodies in that year.
Note LX.
More great than human now, and more august, Now deified she from her fires does rise; Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And opening into larger parts she flies.—St. 295. p. 156.
It is here truly stated, that the calamity of the great fire was ultimately attended with excellent consequences to the city. By a proclamation from the king, of an arbitrary and dictatorial nature, but which the emergency seems to have justified, the citizens were prohibited from rebuilding their houses, except with solid materials, and upon such plans as should be set forth by a committee appointed for the purpose. In this manner, the endless disputes about property, whose boundaries were now undistinguishable, were at once silenced, and provision was made for the improvements in widening the streets, and prohibiting the use of lath and timber, of which materials the houses were formerly composed. "Had the king," says Hume, "been enabled to carry his power still farther, and made the houses be rebuilt with perfect regularity, and entirely upon one plan, he had contributed much to the convenience, as well as embellishment, of the city. Great advantages, however, have resulted from the alterations, though not carried to the full length. London became much more healthful after the fire. The plague, which used to break out with great fury twice or thrice every century, and indeed which was always lurking in some corner or other of the city, has scarcely ever appeared since that calamity."—Vol. VII. p. 4l6.