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GAY and expression, so congenial to the mind of that eccentric genius. But Gay had tried his hand in another department of literature. In 1713 he put on the stage a comedy—"The Wife of Bath." It was a signal failure: that it was intrinsically unworthy of public favour, is best proved by the fact, that when in the heyday of his reputation, seventeen years afterwards, he could not make it acceptable even in an improved form. Through the influence of the earls of Oxford and Bolingbroke, Gay was appointed in 1714 secretary to Lord Clarendon, the new ambassador to the court of Hanover. He had scarcely contrived to equip himself and reach his post, when the death of Anne put an end to his office and his hopes. On his return to England he found the tories dismissed from the government, and the whigs in the ascendant. What chance of court favour had the friend of Swift and Bolingbroke? Pope and Arbuthnot advised him, however, to pay his homage to the new dynasty. "Write," said the former, "something on the king, or prince, or princesses." Gay took the advice. The electoral princess, afterwards Queen Caroline, had taken some notice of him, and even asked for some of his compositions, and Gay now wrote an "Epistle on the Arrival of the Princess of Wales," which fortunately found favour in the sight of her and her consort, who patronized his next dramatic effort by their presence at its performance. This was a mock tragedy entitled "What d'ye call it?" one of those lucky trifles with little but novelty to recommend it, and which, while one does not wonder at its success, might just as well have failed. We may observe that it had the peculiarity of exhibiting through the medium of grave action, sentiments and situations altogether comic, and Pope relates that a deaf spectator who was present was at a loss to reconcile the laughter of the audience with the solemnity of the scene. The success of this piece induced him to bring out in 1717 a comedy called "Three Hours after Marriage." It was damned, and most deservedly so. We advise no one to toil through its scenes: besides the low and unworthy personalities against Dr. Woodward the naturalist, it abounds with grossness unredeemed by wit, and situations that are ridiculous and improbable, while the plot is absurd and offensive. It is hard to believe, as was said at the time, that Pope had any part in the composition, and still harder to imagine that Arbuthnot assisted. Gay fled from the hisses of the theatre into Devonshire, thence to France, and afterwards to Lord Harcourt's at Cockthorpe in Buckinghamshire, where he heard of the melancholy fate of John Hewet and Sarah Drewe, so pathetically narrated by him. Returning to the metropolis in 1720, he published his poems by subscription, which brought him a sum of £1000. In addition to this, he received a present of some South Sea stock from Mr. Craggs, so that he suddenly found himself a wealthy man with somewhere near £20,000. What to do with it was the difficulty. He was a bad man of business, and a worse manager of money. His friends assembled in council to aid him in this "embarras de richesse." Each gave advice, and Gay followed his own—put the rest of the money in the same stock as his friend Craggs' present, and of course lost all. Beggared and almost brokenhearted, Gay for a time gave himself up to despair; but the kindness of friends, and his own happy disposition at length brought restored health and literary energy. He accordingly wrote a tragedy called "The Captives," and had influence enough at court to be permitted to read it before the prince and princess of Wales. Johnson tells the awkward mishap by which Gay stumbled in the presence of his royal patrons, overturned a japan screen, and set all the ladies a screaming. However, he contrived to read the play, and have it acted under the special patronage of the prince; by which means it lived for a week, and then died for ever. He was now a courtier, and to please his patrons, he undertook the composition of fables as an agreeable vehicle of conveying moral instruction to the mind of the young duke of Cumberland. How he executed his task all the world knows. "Gay's Fables" form one of the pleasant memories of the youthful days of every man, and through them the author will for ever hold a place in the literature of his country. In a poetical point of view they are inferior to the "Trivia," but in everything else they are above it. There is an easy pleasant style of versification, a happiness of illustration, a simplicity and elegance of diction, and a certain didactic power about them that will ever charm, even though they want the qualities that belong to poetry of a high order. Gay might well have expected a high reward from the prince; but he was offered no higher than the post of gentleman-usher to the little Princess Louisa, which he refused. But the work that was to make the fame of Gay, was still to be written. Jonathan Swift happened to observe to Gay that a Newgate pastoral would make a pretty odd sort of a thing; Gay took the hint. He first thought of a comedy, then an opera. When the work was finished, he showed it to Pope and to Swift. Both looked coldly on it. It was shown to Congreve, who said it would either take greatly, or be damned. And so it was put on the stage in November, 1727. The duke of Argyle, a sagacious critic, who was present at its first representation, soon discovered it had the stuff of vitality in it. "It will do, it must do," said he; "I see it in the eyes of them." And so it did. "The good-nature of the audience," says Pope, "appeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a clamour of applause." This drama was "The Beggars' Opera." Its success was unprecedented. A run of sixty-three nights in London the first season, established its reputation. The following season found it in as great favour, if not in greater. Wherever a theatre could be found in the British isles, there "The Beggars' Opera" was performed again and again. "The ladies," it is recorded by a contemporary, "carried about with them the favourite songs of it in fans, and houses were furnished with it in screens." As to the author and the fortunate manager of Covent Garden, Rich, who had the courage to accept what his rival Cibber refused, it changed the condition of both, "making," as was wittily observed at the time, "Gay Rich, and Rich Gay." Even one of the performers shared in the fortune that attached to the lucky opera; for Miss Lavinia Fenton, the original Polly, was flattered, run after, her picture to be found in every print shop, and, in fine, she found herself at last duchess of Bolton. For this opera Gay received £400, a small sum considering its enormous popularity. Shortly after he produced "Polly," a sequel to "The Beggars' Opera," but the lord chamberlain refused to license it for the stage. The publication of it, however, brought Gay over £1100. It is said that on the death of Eusden the laureate in 1730, Gay aspired to the office; but his scornful rejection of the post of gentleman-usher to the princess, and his subsequent adhesion to Mrs. Howard, afterwards countess of Suffolk, lost him the favour of the queen, and Cibber succeeded to the "bays." A happy fate now awaited the poet. The duke and duchess of Queensberry, the kindest of friends, undertook to protect him against his own improvidence. They gave him a home in their own house, and managed his money, which was amply sufficient to keep him in comfort. Here he occupied himself with a second volume of his "Fables," "but," says Johnson, "it is supposed that the discountenance of the court sunk deep into his heart, and gave him more discontent than the applauses or tenderness of his friends could overpower." He was subject to colic, and an attack of that distemper carried him off on the 4th of December, 1732. He was buried in Westminster abbey. As a poet Gay cannot be ranked very high—far indeed below many of those with whom he associated; but that very association gives him a brightness, as one of the stars of a constellation, which he would not have possessed if he shone alone. His hold on fame rests on his "Fables" and his "Beggars' Opera." Of the former we have spoken critically; the latter we believe owed its success in part to accidental circumstances. Still it has intrinsic merits. The plot is novel and bold, inimitable burlesque, admirable point and humour, and it is helped out by songs, which are excellently melodious, if they are not highly sentimental. Gay, too, was of a nature that made him a prime favourite. Pope cherished him, Arbuthnot highly regarded him. Swift seemed to love him, if he loved any one. He was a cheerful, happy, indolent fellow—a man of excellent character, of great simplicity, and as unfit for the business of life as he was fitted to add to the happiness of those with whom his life was spent.—J. F. W.  GAY, , born at Paris in 1776; died in 1852. Her father had a confidential situation in the service of Monsieur, who afterwards became Louis XVIII. She married in 1793, was divorced in 1799, and married M. Gay, who obtained the appointment of receiver-general of the department of Roer under the empire. She published a number of novels and comedies, some of which were for a while popular. She also composed music.—J. A., D.  * GAYANGOS,, a Spanish author, born on 21st June, 1809. He received his early education in France, 