Inconstant]. 1
______
This comedy, by a favourite writer, had a reception, on the first night of its
appearance, far inferior to that of his other productions. It was, with difficulty,
saved from condemnation; and the author, in his preface, has boldly charged some
secret enemies with having attempted its destruction.2
Dramatic authors have fewer enemies at the present period, or they have more
humility, than formerly. For now, when their works are hissed from the stage, they
acknowledge they have had a fair trial, and deserve their fate. Wherefore should an
author seek for remote causes, to account for his failures, when to himself alone,
he
is certain ever to impute all his success?
Neither the wit, humour, nor the imitation of nature, in this play, are of that
forcible kind, with which the audience had been usually delighted by Farquhar; and, that the moral gave a
degree of superiority to this drama, was, in those days, of little consequence: the
theatre was ordained, it was thought, for mere pleasure, nor did any one wish it
should degenerate into instruction.
It may be consolatory to the disappointed authors of the present day, to find, how
the celebrated author
b 2[Page 4] of this comedy was
incommoded with
theatrical crosses. He was highly offended, that his play was not admired; still more
angry, that there was an empty house, on his sixth night, and more angry still, that
the Opera House, for the benefit of a French dancer, was, about this time, filled
even to the annoyance of the crowded company. The following are his own words on the
occasion: It is the prettiest way in the world of despising the French king,
to let him see that we can afford money to bribe his dancers, when he, poor man,
has exhausted all his stock, in buying some pitiful towns and
principalities.3 What can be a greater compliment to our
generous nation, than to have the lady on her re-tour to Paris, boast of her
splendid entertainment in England: of the complaisance, liberty, and good nature
of a people, who thronged her house so full, that she had not room to stick a pin;
and left a poor fellow, who had the misfortune of being one of themselves, without
one farthing, for half a year's pains he had taken for their
entertainment.4
This complaint is curious, on account of the talents of the man who makes it; and,
for the same cause, highly reprehensible. If Farquhar, thought himself superior to the French dancer, why did he honour
her by a comparison? and, if he wanted bread, why did he not suffer in silence,
rather than insinuate, he should like to receive it, through the medium of a
benefit?
A hundred years of refinement (the exact time since this author wrote) may have
weakened the force [Page 5]of the dramatic pen; but it has, happily, elevated
authors above the servile spirit of dedications, or the meaner practice, of taking
public benefits.5
As the moral of this comedy has been mentioned as one of its highest recommendations,
it must be added—that, herein, the author did not invent, but merely adopt, as
his own, an occurrence which took place in Paris, about that period, just as he has
represented it in his last act. The Chevalier de Chastillon was the man who is
personated by young Mirabel, in this extraordinary event; and the Chevalier's friend,
his betrothed wife, and his beautiful courtesan, are all exactly described in the
characters of Duretete, Oriana, and Lamorce.6
Having justly abridged Farquhar of the
honour of inventing a moral, it may be equally just, to make a slight apology for
his
chagrin at the slender receipts of his sixth night.—He once possessed the
income, which arose from a captain's commission in the army;7 and having prudently conceived that this little revenue would
not maintain a wife, he had resolved to live single, unless chance should bestow on
him a woman of fortune. His person and address were so extremely alluring, that a
woman of family, but of no fortune, conceiving the passion she felt for him to be
love, pretended she possessed wealth, and deceived him into a marriage, which plunged
them both into the utmost poverty.8
This admirable dramatist seems to have been born for a dupe. In his matrimonial
distress, he applied to a nobleman, who had professed a friendship for
b 3[Page 6] him, and besought his
advice how to surmount his difficulties: The counsel given, was—"Sell your
commission, for present support, and, before the money for its sale is expended, I
will procure you another." Farquhar
complied—and his patron broke his word.9