The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 17Dryden, John
General
The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 17
Dryden, John
English literature
These are the arts which are common to him and his fellow-labourers; but
his own peculiar talent is that of subtle calumny and sly aspersion, by
which he insinuates into his readers an ill opinion of his adversaries,
before he comes to argument; and takes away their good name rather by
theft than open robbery. He lays a kind of accumulative dishonesty to
their charge, and touches them here and there with circumstances, instead
of positive proofs, till at last he leaves a bad impression of them; like
a painter who makes blotches of hard colouring in several parts of the
face, which he smooths afterwards into a likeness. After this manner he,
or one of his brethren in iniquity, has used Monsieur de Condom,[66] by
picking up stories against him in his Preface, which he props up with
little circumstances, but seldom so positive, that he cannot come off
when their falsity shall be detected. In the mean time, his cause goes
forward with the common reader, who, prepossessed by the Preface, is
made partial to his answer. The same kind of artifice, with some little
variation, has been used in other of their books, besides this present
libel against the duchess.
But the cloven foot of this our answerer appears from underneath the
cassock, even in the first step he makes towards his answer to the
present paper; “which,” he tells us, “is _said_ to be written by a great
lady.” How doubtfully he speaks, as if there were no certainty of the
author! But surely it is more than barely said, for it is published by
the same authority which ordered the two other papers written by his
late majesty, to the press; and the original of it is still remaining
in the hands of the present king. Indeed, the bishop of Winchester may
seem to have given him some encouragement for this in the Preface to
his Treatises, where he tell us,—that “Maimbourg, the Jesuit, recites
something which,” he says, “was written by the late duchess,” and which
he afterwards calls,—“the papers _pretended_ to be written by her.” But
if that bishop had lived to see what our answerer has seen, her paper
printed and published by his majesty, I cannot think he would have
been so incredulous as to have made that doubt. It may be allowed him
to suspect a stranger of forgery; but with what face can this son of
the church of England suspect the integrity of his king? In the mean
time, observe what an excellent voucher he has got of this dead bishop,
and what an excellent argument he has drawn from him. Because he would
not believe what he did not think she said, we must not believe what
we know she did say. Let our author, therefore, come out of his mists
and ambiguities, or give us some better authority for his unreasonable
doubts; for, at this rate, if it be already suspected, whether what she
writes be matter of fact, and, indeed, whether she writ at all, it may be
doubted hereafter, whether she changed, and, perhaps, whether there were
ever such a woman.
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