th too
justly tho' unhappily incensed, to do anything in it. In this extream
Distress, Dr. Garth, a man who entirely lov'd Mr. Dryden, and was withal
a Man of Generosity and great Humanity, sends for the Corps to the
College of Physicians in Warwick Lane, and proposed a Funeral by
Subscription, to which himself set a most noble example. Mr. Wycherley,
and several others, among whom must not be forgotten Henry Cromwell,
Esq., Captain Gibbons, and Mr. Christopher Metcalfe, Mr. Dryden's
Apothecary and intimate Friend (since a Collegiate Physician), who with
many others contributed most largely to the Subscription; and at last a
Day, about three weeks after his Decease, was appointed for the
Interment at the Abbey. Dr. Garth pronounced a fine Latin Oration over
the Corps at the College; but the Audience being numerous, and the Room
large, it was requisite the Orator should be elevated, that he might be
heard. But as it unluckily happen'd there was nothing at hand but an old
Beer-Barrel, which the Doctor with much good-nature mounted; and in the
midst of his Oration, beating Time to the Accent with his Foot, the Head
broke in, and his Feet sunk to the Bottom, which occasioned the
malicious Report of his Enemies, "That he was turned a Tub-Preacher."
However, he finished the Oration with a superior grace and genius, to
the loud Acclamations of Mirth, which inspir'd the mix'd or rather
Mob-Auditors. The Procession began to move, a numerous Train of Coaches
attended the Hearse: But, good God! in what Disorder can only be
express'd by a Sixpenny Pamphlet, soon after published, entitled
"Dryden's Funeral." At last the Corps arrived at the Abbey, which was
all unlighted. No Organ played, no Anthem sung; only two of the Singing
boys preceded the Corps, who sung an Ode of Horace, with each a small
candle in their Hand. The Butchers and other Mob broke in like a Deluge,
so that only about eight or ten Gentlemen could gain Admission, and
those forced to cut the Way with their drawn Swords. The Coffin in this
Disorder was let down into Chaucer's Grave, with as much confusion, and
as little Ceremony, as was possible; every one glad to save themselves
from the Gentlemen's Swords, or the Clubs of the Mob. When the Funeral
was over, Mr. Charles sent a Challenge to Lord Jeffreys, who refusing to
answer it, he sent several others, and went often himself, but could
neither get a Letter deliver'd, nor Admittance to speak to him, that he
resolved