Letters

To my worthy friend Mr Pepys at 12 Buckingham Street                                            

8 June 1691

Worthy Sir

When last we met we spoke of the new work that my friend John Dryden proposed, to be a play upon King Arthur, and with new Musick by the excellent Mr Purcell. You told me, that you feared that your infirmity would not permit you to embark on the Thames to be a spectator at the Dorset Garden Theatre when ’twas presented, and remembering this conversation, I thought to divert you with some small account thereof. Though I have myself ventured into the writing of a playe, I am no more fitt to give a critique of a Drama than to playe a part in the same, nor have I attended such a ‘dramatick opera’ (as Mr Dryden calls it) before this occasion, so I beg you to pardon my putting in writing tumultuarily my thoughts on the piece.

Sir Richard Blackmore did me the honour of accompanying me to the theatre. I believe you may have heard tell of him; he is both an excellent Physician and a devotee of the Muses, who is composing an epic poëme upon Prince Arthur, which he hath hopes of seeing in print in a year or two. [1]We took our places in the two shilling seates, with the purpose to have a good viewe of the proceedings.

 Other nations bestow the name  of  opera only on such playes whereof every worde is sung, but ‘tis too fine for our honest English Genius, that will not relish that perpetualle singing. Mr Dryden himself told me that it was to bee a Play, of the Nature of The Tempest, which is, a Tragedy mixed with Opera, adorn’d with Scenes, Machines, Songs and Dances; so that the Fable of it is all acted by the best of the Comedians; the other part to be perform’d by the Singers and Dancers.[2]

So enter Mr Betterton, who as Prologue hath always enforc’d universal Attention, even from the Fops and Orange-Girls, but he chose to berate those who, as is now the Fashion, wager on the success or failure of his Plays, which did not please some of his Hearers. But when the Play, or should I say Opera, began, the Onlookers were mightily pleased with the Costly Scenes, Machines and Cloaths before them. [3]

Now I have to say that Mr Dryden hath not told the tale of King Arthur as you and I knowe it from the Historie Books, but hath taken Liberties as if it were a Legend and not a true Historie: and there are those that would be in Agreement with him in the Question of the Truth of what we are told about our Hero. Sir Richard and I disputed a little on the Topic after the performance. For here is no Guinever, but a blind Emmeline, to make a Pathetick part for Mrs Bracegirdle, the darling of our Theatre, to play. But to my Displeasure she was not called upon to sing, which she doth with much grace and a pleasure which I am not ashamed to give prayse to. Our Hero was of course play’d by Mr Betterton himself, in high Style

The presentation of the Saxon temple and the Pagan Gods within is not such as those learned in the lore and Architecture of their Religiose practiques might approve, though I believe he hath made some use of Mr Sammes’s Britannia Antiqua Illustrata.[4] But I have to moderate my Critique of it and allow them somewhat of License, for Antiquaries such as I should leave our learning at the Theatre door when treating of such matters. As to the spirits  of Mr Dryden’s Inventing, they are much indebted to Ariel in his play of The Tempest after Mr Shakespeare’s comedy of that name. Grimbald is a thorough Demon, a Caliban of the Nether world, while Philidel is most like unto Ariel. Grimbald complains that Philidel is ‘with compassion touch’d of foolish man’, ‘a puling sprite’.. But you know how my interest in Matters of such Spirits as these and in the Supernatural, and indeed the enquiries of other members of the Royal Society into such things have been Censured by the Church: I dare not say more on the Subject.[5]

            Mr Dryden’s Entertainment is well Design’d to show off all the Riches of the Stage. He gives us Battles, enacted out of our Sight but within our Hearing, at one moment, and at the next Shepherds and Shepherdesses to divert blind Emmeline with songs while the said Battles rage. Here, I will confess, was a verse that struck me hard, and which I cannot forebear to repeat to you. The Shepherdesses sing:

Pipes are sweet, a summer’s day,
But a little after toying,
Women have the shot to pay.

Here are marriage vows for signing
Set their marks that cannot write;
After that, without repining,
Play and welcome, day and night.

[Here the women give the men contracts, which they accept]

This put me in mind of my recent troubles at Law with Mrs  Sumner, where there was no such Contract, but she perswaded the Judge that notwithstanding I had breached my Promise to her. I met her in an ill howre,  for no such Promise had ever been given, to my Shame and indeed almost to my Ruin.[6] But let us return to the imaginary World again, where indeed at this moment of the Play Arthur fares little better than I in love, for fair Emmeline is taken by the Saxon chief Oswald, aided by his Magician, Osmund, who tries to entrap Arthur in an enchanted forest. Merlin, whose name is ever linked to that of Arthur, warns the king of the perils in his path, and wins Philidel over to his side, giving him a Phial by means of which he cures Emmeline’s blindness.

            Osmund now appears, a hideous Personage who offends Emmeline’s newly opened eyes, while Merlin and Arthur retreat, for Merlin has not found the Key to the mastery of Osmund. Here follows one of the most exquisite of Mr Dryden and Mr Purcell’s inventions, and here I must speak of both Words and Musick together. Osmund conjures up a scene of ‘countries caked with ice’ which he likens to Emmeline’s Heart, frozen at his appearance. The Genius of Winter arises, and in an Air which I swear chilled even the Heat of the Theatre, sings through chattering Teeth a stumbling Song of his desire to return to his ‘bed of everlasting Snow’. It is a Master Stroke, the finest moment of the Play.

Cupid now appears to thwart Osmund’s vile Intentions, but Osmund threatens Emmelin that ‘If you will not fairly be enjoy’d, A ‘little honest Force is well employ’d’ before he departs to deal with Arthur. His next trick is one which Mr Dryden hath borrowed from the old Romances, to the best of my Recollection. Arthur is still within the enchanted wood, and Merlin has left him, saying that he can go no further because of Osmund’s magic. Arthur encounters Emmeline, and is about to embrace her in the Fullness of Love. Philidel, whom Merlin has appointed to watch over Arthur, prevents him, and shows that she who he supposes to be Emmeline is Grimbald in disguise. This is the tale of the false Guinevere, half-sister to the real queen, as told in the French books, set to new purpose by our Author.[7]

And so to our Conclusion. The conflict between the Britons and the Saxons is settled by a duel between Oswald and Arthur in which Osmund and Merlin intervene. They fight with sponges soaked in blood, which made the Ladies present gasp in horror, and fan themselves. But the passage from Horror to Tranquillity was but brief. Arthur pardoned Oswald, and a general rejoicing concluded the Entertainment, where Merlin, or rather Mr Purcell’s musical Skills, conjured up the most gratifying Exhibition of the beauties of the Occasion. This Masque was presided over by Britannia, and the fishermen and shepherds of our Island appeared. I must confess, that Mr Dryden came to me for some Hints as to the countrymen in the bucolic scene with Comus and the peasants, I having spoke with him some time since about the comic scenes in my own play that I wrote for Thomas Shadwell, A Country Revell, which languishes unfinished among my papers. His verses were most Satiricall of the parson and the squire, and pleased the groundlings very well, while the Musick fell most gratefully upon the Ears of the Quality. This Pleasure was multiplied by the air which followed, the finest piece of the whole Evening, sung by the goddess Venus. I am sure that you will soon encounter the Musick in print or in Performance: ‘tis called ‘Fairest isle, all isles excelling’.

This marvel was followed by a song to words by Mr Howe, which must have been inserted at Mr Purcell’s suggestion. The closing theme is that of Honour, in praise of the greatest honour that can be bestowed on a Subject of the Isle, that is, the Order of the Garter, and a grand dance concluded the Proceedings.

I have given you a Sketch of the Dramatic part of the Work; now I must give you such impression as I can of the Musical. You, sir, are much more qualified than I to treat of matters of this kind. Sir Richard said that the songs in the first part ‘were all Church musick’ like the anthems Mr Purcell writes for the Abbey. [8]

I was mightily taken with the performance of Mrs Butler as Cupid in the scene when she called up the Genius of the Cold. She had the liberty to turn her face to the scene, and her back to the spectators. She was in no concern for her face, but sang a recitative of calling towards the place where Genius was to rise, and performed it admirably. A gentleman seated by me declared it was beyond anything he had heard upon the English stage, and ascribed it to the liberty of turning her face away, for then she could sing as she wished with no thought for the contorting of her face to sound well, which would not have pleased her gallants, and which her envious sex would have remarked.[9]

I could discerne too, even with my little Acquaintance with the Arts of Composing, the remarkable skill of Mr Purcell’s writing of Echoes in the passage where Philidel and Grimbald vie to perswade Arthur into following them, dividing the voices of the chorus to make of it a Chime of the same words repeated, echoing and re-echoing as a Mirror to the Confusion the spirits have sown in Arthur’s mind.[10]

I trust, my honoured friend, that I have conveyed something of the Quality of this performance for your enjoyment.’ Tis but a poor Shadow of the original, but in the hope that it may have somewhat entertain’d you,

Your truly loving friend to please you

Jo: Aubrey