Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695-1708: The Career of George Farquhar

EXPERIMENTATION ON THE ENGLISH STAGE, 1695–1708: THE CAREER OF GEORGE FARQUHAR

EXPERIMENTATION ON THE ENGLISH STAGE, 1695–1708: THE CAREER OF GEORGE FARQUHAR

by Elisabeth J. Heard

london PICKERING & CHATTO 2008

Published by Pickering & Chatto (Publishers) Limited 21 Bloomsbury Way, London WC1A 2TH 2252 Ridge Road, Brookfield, Vermont 05036-9704, USA www.pickeringchatto.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior permission of the publisher. © Pickering & Chatto (Publishers) Limited 2008 © Elisabeth J. Heard 2008 british library cataloguing in publication data Heard, Elisabeth J. Experimentation on the English stage, 1695–1708 : the career of George Farquhar 1. Farquhar, George, 1677?–1707 – Technique 2. Farquhar, George, 1677?– 1707 –Stories, plots, etc. 3. Farquhar, George, 1677?–1707 – Criticism and interpretation 4. English drama (Comedy) – History and criticism 5. English drama – 18th century – History and criticism 6. English drama – 17th century – History and criticism I. Title 822’.0523’09 ISBN–13: 9781851969715

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This publication is printed on acid-free paper that conforms to the American National Standard for the Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials. Typeset by Pickering & Chatto (Publishers) Limited Printed in the United Kingdom at the University Press, Cambridge

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

vii

Introduction 1 The London Theatre World in the 1690s 2 Origins of ‘Humane Comedy’: Farquhar, Congreve, Cibber and Vanbrugh 3 Experimentation at the Turn of the Century 4 Successful Experimentation: The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem 5 Farquhar’s Contributions and the Post-1707 Theatre Conclusion: Farquhar and Anglo-Irish Drama

1 11

85 113 135

Notes Works Cited Index

147 159 165

23 43

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book would not have been possible without the help of many people. This project began several years ago while still a graduate student at The Pennsylvania State University, and I would like to thank my advisor, Robert D. Hume, for his guidance and encouragement. I would also like to thank those who helped me see this project through its infancy – Clement Hawes, John Harwood, Garrett Sullivan and Philip Jenkins – and the extremely helpful library staff at The Pennsylvania State University, who frequently assisted me in obtaining many of the materials necessary to complete this project. My gratitude goes out to my colleagues and friends at Saint Louis University, many of whom graciously gave their time to read various parts of the manuscript. This special cohort includes Ellen Crowell, Toby Benis, Georgia Johnston, Joya Urazee, and Shawn Michelle Smith. I would also like to thank the library at Saint Louis University for helping me with my research. My deepest heartfelt thanks goes out to my family, who has supported me throughout the years. Thank you to my parents, Melvin L. Heard and Junemary J. Heard, for enthusiastically supporting me in this endeavour. Thank you to my grandmothers, Addie Heard and June Jones, and my brother, Melvin A. Heard, for being my cheerleaders. A special thank you to my husband, Christian D. Greer, for having patience and loving me while I pursued a dream.

– vii –

INTRODUCTION

I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch Ship; I there had a Dutch Whore for five Stivers; I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drub’d in the Battle with the but-end of a Swiss Musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen Intreagues, bought half a dozen new Suits, fought a couple of Duels, and here I am agen in statu quo (Sir Harry Wildair, The Constant Couple)

Sir Harry Wildair – a bumbling, grandiose, yet likeable character – and his various misdeeds in George Farquhar’s The Constant Couple (1699) were representative of the beginning of a new era in English comedy. Audience’s theatrical preferences were changing, and the overtly sexual, bawdy plays of the 1670s and 1680s were quickly falling out of favour in the 1690s. Farquhar’s Sir Harry was the introduction of a different type of character – one whose humanity and three-dimensionality were clearly evident through his actions and dialogue. Throughout the course of approximately thirteen years (c. 1695–1708), stock characters and plots that were popular in the previous thirty years were slowly replaced by new, inventive, interesting and highly original theatrical elements. This book argues that experimentation was the driving force behind the change in comedy at the turn of the eighteenth century, as playwrights experimented with what worked and what did not work on stage. Levels of success and failures are determined by historical facts: how many nights a play ran, how many times it was revived throughout the course of the century, how people commented upon a play (positively/negatively) in letters, journals, etc. By looking closely at the theatrical seasons over the course of approximately fifteen years, and by examining the new plays written by the major playwrights of the period, a pattern of experimentation arises. Playwrights, in an attempt to write a successful play, experimented with combining elements from older comedies (for example, a standard marriage plot) with new and unique elements (for example, characters who defy stereotyping). This pattern of experimentation with old and new elements can be found in virtually all of the plays written by the playwrights of this time. The distribution of old vs new elements varies greatly from playwright to playwright and even within the plays of a single author, but by tracing –1–

2

Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

out the process, we can see how the authors used experimentation in an attempt to write plays that would please the audience. In order to determine what the major changes were in both plots and characters, I rely upon a close reading of the plays in conjunction with a comparison of plots/characters/dialogues in new plays with those elements in the old plays written in the 1670s and ’80s. As a result, I have found that the plays written at the turn of the eighteenth century either contain more well-rounded and human characters, plots that vary in new and interesting ways, new character types that were not present in past plays, or dialogue that is frequently character building, as it gives us insight into the psyche and personality of the character instead of just forwarding the plot. By far, the biggest difference in the new plays written at this time is characters who, at first glance, seem to mimic character types of the past (for example, the naïve young girl, the rake, the oppressive father, the bumbling servant) but who are different from their ancestors in a significant way (behaviour, thought process, inner motivation, etc.) Frequently, the new iterations of these stock characters do not end up doing things or behaving in a way that would be expected, which has the effect of breathing new life into a play that would have otherwise been a standard rehashing of old themes and tropes. Over the course of fifteen years, the experimentation becomes more and more pronounced, with the end result being such original (and financially successful) plays as Farquhar’s The Recruiting Officer (1706) and The Beaux Stratagem (1707). This change is gradual, however, as playwrights fight against audience’s tastes. Too much experimentation at once produces a play that the audience condemns, and too little experimentation produces an ‘old style’ play that the audience does not want to see. To use an analogy, the relationship between the playwright and the audience is akin to that of lovers – one constant and one fickle. The playwright (the constant lover) is searching for what will make the fickle lover (the audience) happy. By the beginning of the eighteenth century, many playwrights, including Farquhar, Steele and others, had found the elusive formula that they had been seeking and wrote wildly successful plays that quickly entered into the repertory and were performed frequently throughout the rest of the century. These experimenting playwrights also opened the door for the audience to accept extreme innovation, which paved the way for later plays like John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera (1728). This book focuses upon the approximate years of 1695 to 1708 for several reasons. First, despite the disagreement over how the comedy changed, all critics do agree that there was a change at the turn of the eighteenth century. Second, 1695 marks the year the United Company actors rebelled, which resulted in a split in theatrical companies and the granting of a new licence. One company became two, fostering hot competition between Drury Lane and Lincoln’s Inn Fields. This competition drove the desire for new plays, as each theatre tried to

Introduction

3

discern what would bring a bigger audience. Finally, I picked 1708 as a terminus because the production of new comedies greatly decreased after 1707, largely on account of events following the theatrical union of 1708, which virtually eliminated competition by declaring that all comedies and tragedies were to be performed at Drury Lane, and opera (which, by 1708 had increasing popularity) was to be performed at Sir John Vanbrugh’s new Queen’s Theatre in the Haymarket. I focus my attention on six major playwrights writing during this time – Congreve, Cibber, Vanbrugh, Steele, Centlivre and Farquhar. By ‘major’ I mean playwrights who had an established career of both commercially successful plays and failures. Farquhar is the main focus because the scope of his career serves as a marker for understanding the nature of the change in comedy at the end of the seventeenth/beginning of the eighteenth century. His first play, Love and a Bottle (1698), relied (unsuccessfully) on outdated plot devices and character types. His last two plays, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem, used creatively new elements to connect with English audiences, and subsequently became two of the most popular plays in the eighteenth century. In the early to mid-twentieth century, critics had often divided the comedy written between 1660 and 1800 into two camps, ‘Restoration’ and ‘sentimental’, and much of the criticism can be summarized in one sentence: ‘Restoration comedy’ was bawdy and vulgar and existed from 1660 until the turn of the century, when Collier/the ladies/Shadwell (insert any number of reasons here) forced a change, creating ‘sentimental comedy’ in the eighteenth century. This blanket statement is highly generalized and rests on many assumptions, including the idea that uniform labels can be applied to all comedy produced from 1660 to 1700 and from 1700 to 1800. Fortunately, in recent times critics have tried to break away from these categories and trouble previous suppositions. When looking at the overall critical conversation, a trend is evident in the way critics have divided the comedy written from 1660 to 1800. There seem to be two major camps – those who believe that there was a shift from ‘Restoration’ to ‘sentimental comedy’ (and subsequently give definitions for these terms), and those who abandon this dichotomy and instead offer different ways of categorizing and understanding the comedy. The first camp includes earlier scholars, for example, Ernest Bernbaum, Henry Ten Eyck Perry, Allardyce Nicoll and Arthur Sherbo,1 while the second group includes scholars writing in the second half of the twentieth century, for example John Loftis, Frank H. Ellis, Shirley Strum Kenny and Robert D. Hume.2 With a few exceptions, there is a correlation between early twentieth-century scholarship and the belief in rigid ‘Restoration’ and ‘sentimental’ categories, and post 1960s scholarship and the belief in numerous and more fluid ways of investigating the comedy.

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

The critical conversation in the twentieth century begins, in large part, with Bernbaum. He was one of the early critics to promote the comedy written in the eighteenth century as ‘sentimental’. In Drama of Sensibility, Bernbaum’s basic definition of this term is simple: ‘Confidence in the goodness of average human nature is the mainspring of sentimentalism’,3 and he lists what he feels to be the attributes of this kind of comedy: Though they worked somewhat blindly, the founders of the school accomplished between 1696 and 1704 work of lasting importance. They destroyed forever the tradition that the pathetic must be excluded from comedy, and that virtuous characters must be confined to romantic drama. They created several characters which were in the future to be copied, with slight variations, again and again – the abused yet loyal wife, the maiden faithful to her absent lover, the pitiable forsaken mistress finally restored to respect, the repentant young prodigal, the nobly generous friend and the wayward but reclaimable husband.4

Bernbaum makes numerous other arguments, which I will not go into detail here; suffice it to say that his text largely served as a catalyst for critical discussion in the twentieth century. Many of the later critics responded, in some way, to Berbaum’s arguments. For example, almost a decade later, Nicoll offers his definitions of both ‘Restoration’ and ‘sentimental comedy’ in A History of Early Eighteenth-Century Drama, 1700–1750. Perry, in The Comic Spirit in Restoration Drama (1925), defines ‘Restoration comedy’ as ‘comedy of manners’, and Arthur Sherbo gives several definitions of ‘sentimental comedy’ in English Sentimental Drama (1957). What later critics (most noticeably, Robert D. Hume and Shirley Strum Kenny) have rightly pointed out is that the fundamental problem with the Restoration/sentimental categorization is that ‘Such a system of categorization obscures as much as it clarifies the playwrights’ aims and methods’.5 With the opening up of the canon and the publication of The London Stage, critics have taken a closer look at the variety of plays produced during that time. Over a 140-year period, hundreds of new plays were produced and hundreds more old plays were revived. To divide the drama up into two categories that split nicely at the turn of the century is a bit too convenient. Hume illustrates the diversity of the drama written in a half-century (from 1660 to 1710) by taking a sample of eight highly successful comedies written during this period. These plays include Etherege’s The Country-Wife (1675) and Wycherley’s The Man of Mode (1676) as well as Howard’s The Committee (1662), Shadwell’s The Squire of Alsatia (1688) and Congreve’s Love for Love (1695). All of these plays are significantly different from each other, and lumping them all together under one term produces ludicrous results. Hume revisits the ‘Restoration’ versus ‘sentimental’ debate in The Rakish Stage (1983). He reminds us that ‘“Restoration comedy” gives precious little support to libertinism’,6 and ‘The whole concept of sentimental comedy is

Introduction

5

in fact merely a distraction and a red herring. Anyone who has read a reasonable number of plays usually dubbed sentimental know that in fact they are too disparate to constitute a definable genre.’7 Kenny, like Hume, abandons the old terms and offers her own. Kenny uses ‘humane comedy’ to describe the type of comedy that was written at the turn of the eighteenth century, and in her 1977 article of that title she states: In characterization the writers of humane comedy are more amiable than their Restoration forebears; heroes and heroines as well as fools are treated with less extravagance, more gentleness and good humor than were their ancestors. The hero and heroine of the Restoration, wittier, handsomer, more debonair than anyone ever was in real life, disappear, replaced by the likes of Sir Harry Wildair and Mrs. Sullen. No longer paragons of wit and style, the young lovers of these plays are believably human, young, fallible and funny.8

Kenny believes that the plays of Cibber, Farquhar and Steele exhibit many of these qualities, which makes their work different from the ‘comedy of manners’ and the ‘sentimental comedy’. The heroes of humane comedy are likeable descendants of the rakes of Restoration comedy. They make mistakes, they find themselves in embarrassing positions, and they do not have as much control over their situations as do their predecessors. They are also able to laugh at themselves, and subsequently we laugh with them.9 Kenny’s descriptions of what makes the plays of Cibber, Farquhar and Steele different from their predecessors are very astute. The characters are, indeed, ‘believably human, young, fallible and funny’. In addition, the standard plot lines that were so popular in the past – usually a marriage plot with a blocking figure – were also beginning to change in very interesting ways. Kenny’s assertions that humane comedy is full of good nature, with plots that weave together very human characters and physical action with more realistic dialogue, pinpoint key characteristics in most of the comedy written by Farquhar, Cibber, Vanbrugh, Centlivre and some of their contemporaries. Elements of humane comedy can first be seen in Congreve’s Love for Love (1695) and Cibber’s Love’s Last Shift (1696), but a very different form of comedy did not fully emerge until Farquhar’s The Recruiting Officer (1706) and The Beaux Stratagem (1707). The Constant Couple (1699) was the beginning of Farquhar’s experimentation with humane comedy. He took risks with this play and created different types of characters with which the audience connected. The result was a successful and memorable play that launched a new form of comedy. Farquhar is foregrounded in this study as successfully writing humane comedies because his career clearly illustrates how a playwright uses humane comedies to move from one formerly popular style of comedy to something that is new and different. Over the course of ten years, Farquhar experimented by slightly chang-

6

Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

ing and updating old stock characters and plot lines, and combined them with new, imaginative elements before finally hitting upon a formula that worked. As a result, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem became two of the most popular plays of the eighteenth century. As Farquhar’s plays are discussed, several key elements emerge as being successful factors in his humane comedies. His comedies differed from his predecessors in that they reflected a lighter tone, and included a good natured sense of humour, characters who were multi-dimensional and more human, and dialogue that focused on building the personality of the characters instead of displaying wit. Inspired by Kenny and fuelled by Farquhar, I began asking questions. It is evident that the comedy changed, but why did it change? How was this change implemented? And what, exactly, were the major changes in both plot and character? These three questions are at the heart of this book. Previous answers to the ‘why it changed’ have been unsatisfactory (for example the ladies/Collier/Shadwell) because, as I will show, they have been based on unsubstantiated claims. And although Kenny begins to give us an explanation of what the changes were – more well-rounded characters, more humane plot lines – she limits her discussion to only a few examples from only three playwrights, and she does not discuss how these changes came about. The goal of this book is to go beyond Kenny’s initial readings of the state of comedy at the turn of the eighteenth century. Why did the comedy change? Because playwrights wrote to make money, and they quickly realized that in the late 1690s the audiences were no longer interested in plays that recycled standard plots and characters popular ten and twenty years before. The question of why the audience’s tastes changed is a difficult one to answer. In Chapter 1 I offer several political and social factors that, in all probability, played a major role in affecting the public consciousness. In the end, however, there is no way to definitely say why tastes change, except to argue that they naturally do. Reality TV, which is so popular and pervasive now, was almost unheard of in the 1980s and will most likely (many hope) fall out of favour in the next twenty years. No trend lasts forever, and by the late 1690s the audiences were probably tired of seeing new plays written in the ‘old style’, although revivals of the old plays were still popular. How was the change in the comedies implemented? Through experimentation. Playwrights combined traditional, time-tested plots and characters with original, innovative elements with the hope of producing financially successful comedies. What were the changes in the plays written by the major playwrights during this time? In the following chapters, I explore the changes in detail, but in summation, the plays slowly became more humane in nature. Playwrights like Farquhar borrowed elements from their predecessors and improved upon them in an attempt to make the work more relevant to the current time or to appeal to

Introduction

7

the current audience’s tastes. Humane comedy playwrights also included experimental elements in the hopes that the new elements would captivate, intrigue, or positively influence the audience. They blended the old and the new assuming that the audience would continue to like the familiar conventions, plot lines, or characters that they had always enjoyed and would be open to accepting variations or experimentations with stock favourites. Writing a humane comedy was a way for a playwright to write a financially successful play without simply rehashing what was popular in the past. A humane comedy also protected the playwright from the audience completely rejecting a play that was too new or too different. As I reviewed the plays that were written and/or performed during the 1695 through the 1708 theatrical seasons, a pattern of audience acceptance and rejection emerged. Overwhelmingly, the humane comedies were far more popular than those that either stuck solely to old formulas or that solely included radical experimentation. The primary method that informs my research is contextual historicism. Using primary materials I recreate a sense of the conditions in which playwrights were working. Besides the plays themselves, which beyond the actual texts also give an invaluable source of information in terms of casting, these primary materials include prologues and epilogues, early biographies, contemporary works of criticism, memoirs, diaries, letters, political/social tracts and pamphlets and more. By analyzing and synthesizing these materials, I reconstruct the context the writers were working in and demonstrate how the social/political/economic forces influenced them and their writings. Overall, this book looks chronologically at the theatrical seasons from 1698 until approximately 1708 and argues for the development of what Kenny calls humane comedy based on the practice of experimentation. Chapter 1 investigates the composition of the theatre-going public in the 1690s and argues that their cranky nature and overall fickle tastes were a result of the tumultuous political and social environment they were living in. The fear of a continued Catholic monarchy was ignited with the birth of James II’s Catholic son, James Francis Edward, sparking Parliament to invite Mary ( James’s Protestant daughter) and her husband William of Orange to ‘invade’ England. The instability of proper claim to the throne, combined with a reign full of high taxes due to William’s constant wars on the continent, all contributed to the audience’s capricious tastes. Chapter 1 also investigates the theatrical history of the 1690s and posits that the dissolution of the United Company in 1695, combined with the limited ways a playwright could earn income, is what fostered a climate of experimentation among the writers. Farquhar’s first play, Love and a Bottle, was not successful. From the experience, however, Farquhar learned to take risks and experiment in his second play, The Constant Couple. Chapter 2 discusses the reception of Love and a Bottle and

8

Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

argues that the formulaic and backward-looking nature of the characters and plot are the reason why the play was not well-received. The chapter then investigates The Constant Couple, which ran for an astounding fifty-three nights in London alone, and posits that the success of Farquhar’s second attempt hinges upon the character of Sir Harry Wildair and the play’s witty and intellectual dialogue. This chapter also argues how early popular humane comedies, such as Cibber’s Love’s Last Shift (1696), Vanbrugh’s The Relapse (1696) and Congreve’s Love for Love (1695), influenced Farquhar’s The Constant Couple, and why Farquhar’s sequel, Sir Harry Wildair (1701) failed to repeat the success of the original. Chapter 3 explores the years 1700 to 1705, which saw an explosion of humane comedy, and argues for the continued development in the change in comedy at the hands of Farquhar, Cibber, Steele and Centlivre. I posit that these playwrights, through their own unique form of experimentation and their influence on each other, create a variety of forms of humane comedy. Not all of the plays they write connect with the audiences; in fact, in some cases out of extreme experimentation arise plays that, while brilliant, are commercial failures (for example, Farquhar’s The Twin-Rivals). The first five years of the eighteenth century are a testing ground for the playwrights, and a period in which they hone their craft and determine what balance of the traditional and the new speaks best to the audience. The 1705–6 and 1706–7 seasons gave the eighteenth century two of its most popular plays, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem. These comedies mark the culmination of everything Farquhar had learned, and Chapter 4 argues that The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem are the direct result of Farquhar’s earlier successes and failures. Throughout the course of his career, in struggling with his own plays and in watching the struggles of his contemporaries, Farquhar learned what plot devices, character types, and dialogue most intrigued his audience. Chapter 4 argues that it is elements like the britcheswearing, women-wooing, sword-carrying Silvia, the tightly constructed plot of The Recruiting Officer, and the serious dealings with marital discontent in The Beaux Stratagem that not only make these plays pinnacles of humane comedy, but also catapult them into popularity long after Farquhar’s death. As a struggling playwright, Farquhar was frustrated with his inability to continually anticipate what the audience wanted to see. Farquhar expresses these frustrations in his essay, ‘A Discourse upon Comedy’, where he challenges the commonly held notion that adhering to Aristotle’s unities of time, place and action is the best set of principles on which to base a play. Chapter 5 explores this rarely discussed essay and argues that it can be used to give us insight into the mind of a struggling playwright, and it is also helpful in understanding some of the creative decisions Farquhar made when writing his plays. Chapter 5 also investigates the state of the theatre post 1707, and argues for the contributions

Introduction

9

Farquhar made to the eighteenth century. His works became so popular that they entered into the cultural consciousness of many educated Londoners; for example, references to his plays can be found in journals and letters of the period. The evolution of humane comedy virtually stopped after 1707 as a result of the politics of the post-1707 theatre, and the chapter closes with a discussion of the state of the English theatre and posits why the development of humane comedy ceased, and why repertory plays like those by Farquhar remained popular. Farquhar’s influence reached far beyond the English stage, and, in fact, had a large impact on the Irish stage as well. The Conclusion investigates Farquhar’s contribution to the history of Anglo-Irish drama and argues that Farquhar subverted the ‘Stage Irishman’ stereotype that was pervasive in the drama of the time. Through this subversion, Farquhar was able to cleverly satirize the English culture that was invested so heavily in the perpetuation of the stereotype. The Conclusion also argues for the more systematic inclusion of Farquhar in the chronology of other great Anglo-Irish playwrights like Goldsmith, Sheridan, Wilde and Shaw. His plays not only served as an inspiration for these authors, but he was also one of the first Anglo-Irish playwrights to achieve widespread popularity in English and Ireland on both the stage and in print. The turn of the eighteenth century was an exciting time in English theatrical history, and Farquhar was at the heart of it. As the playwrights found the audience’s taste for bawdy, sexual comedy wearing thin, they struggled to find the next big thing that would fill the seats. Eventually, with time and experimentation, Farquhar and his contemporaries learned that blending conventions that the audience recognized with new, innovative elements resulted in a style of comedy that attracted theatre-goers. The humane comedy that arose out of the combination of the old and the new garnered playwrights like Farquhar economic success, and their work is key to the change in early eighteenth-century comedy.

1 THE LONDON THEATRE WORLD IN THE 1690S

Catholics versus Protestants, unstable political times and war – this was the climate the late seventeenth-century audience was living in. The political unease trickled down to all levels of society, from the nobles to the servants, and all could find a seat at the theatre. Comedy that was written decades ago was still entertaining, but new plays written using the same conventions were booed. Playwrights struggled to curry the audience’s favour, which was important, since the ability to earn a living as a playwright rested almost exclusively in the audience’s hands. The more nights a play ran, the better opportunity the playwright had to get paid, and by the latter half of the 1690s, the split in the United Company fostered the competition that was necessary to spur on the desire for the next fresh, new play that would fill the seats.

The Impetus for Change When Charles II was restored to the throne and the theatre was reopened, people from all social classes filled the seats. The audience was divided along social lines, with a seating arrangement that reflected the hierarchy. The boxes held the members of the highest level of society. The King sat in the central box, with other members of society who wanted to be visible sitting in the boxes to the sides of the theatre. Moving upwards from the boxes correlated with a decrease in social status, with some members of the ‘middle class’ (apprentices, poets, guildsmen, etc.) seated in the middle gallery, and servants, coachmen and footmen seated in the upper gallery. The pit, located on the ground floor, brought together an eclectic mix of men and women. At any given performance there could be members of the court, merchants, lawyers, respectable women, young gallants and prostitutes all seated in the same area. Lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses, members of Parliament and naval officers all watched the plays along with the fops, beaux, wits and footmen. On the whole, the theatre was a reflection of the society – people with various political views from different levels of society interacting in a basically civil manner.1 – 11 –

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

This audience heterogeneity existed throughout the long eighteenth century, but something occurred to alter the audience’s tastes in the 1690s. From 1660 until the 1680s, performances of overly sexual comedies like Wycherley’s The Country-Wife (1675) and Etherege’s The Man of Mode (1676) filled the seats, although, as Hume notes, ‘Despite the fad for sex comedy in the mid-seventies we cannot suppose that the audience approved wholeheartedly of what it saw’.2 What did not exist in the 1670s was a universal condemnation of sexually explicit plays. However, in the 1690s a strange and unexplained phenomenon occurred: the audience continued to attend old plays, yet condemned new plays that borrowed elements from their predecessors. Plays such as Dryden’s Marriage A-La-Mode (1671) and The Country-Wife were still regularly restaged, but new plays that borrowed from the old style such as Farquhar’s Love and a Bottle (1698) were not as popular. Theatre managers and playwrights quickly realized that the old formulas were no longer working (at least not with the new plays), and they had to adapt their productions to fit the audience’s changing tastes. What caused the shift in the audience’s attitudes? What was occurring outside of the theatre that might have had an impact on the audience? I argue that the fickle and unpredictable nature of the 1690s audience was a result of the turbulent political situation they were experiencing. England was politically unstable at the end of the 1680s. Since Charles II failed to produce a legitimate male heir, there were efforts by members of Parliament to keep his Catholic brother from succession. Unable to prevent James from inheriting the throne after Charles’s death in 1685, the faction then invited the Protestant William of Orange, husband of Mary, James’s Protestant daughter, to invade England. William agreed, and in November 1688 his very professional troops arrived in England, and the intimidated James fled to France. Parliament was faced with a slight dilemma in that they wanted Mary to be the sole ruler, but she refused out of deference to her husband. So Parliament agreed to have them both take the throne as co-rulers, and in the spring of 1689 William and Mary were crowned. This series of events was a source of great turmoil for the English people. After James’s exile, he spent years planning to invade England and reclaim his throne. Although he was never successful, the people could not ignore the fact that he had a genuine claim; James’s removal combined with William’s wars on the continent made the late 1680s and 1690s a turbulent time for the English public. The people who attended the theatre in the 1690s were also suffering from the psychological and financial effects of war. Almost immediately after being crowned king of England, William declared war on France. James II and Louis XIV had invaded Ireland, which was considered a French intrusion into English affairs and, as a result, William was able to gain financial support for a costly retaliation. The English army had disintegrated by the end of James’s reign, so William had to rebuild the forces. While the first group sent to the continent

The London Theatre World in the 1690s

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contained only 11,000 English soldiers, and an additional 9,000 were deployed to Ireland, by the last three years of the war William had increased the numbers to over 68,000, which included 48,000 English soldiers; this was a large army considering that there were only around 1,000,000 adult males in England at the time.3 William also expanded the navy, and improved its armament, tonnage, quality and flexibility. Before the end of the War of Spanish Succession in 1713, the Royal Navy was both the largest and the strongest in Europe, thanks, in large part, to William.4 This increase, of course, did not come without cost in English lives. In 1696 the population of England was around 4.9 million people, with roughly 490,000 to 575,000 people living in London.5 While William only lost approximately 400 men in his first battle (The Battle of the Boyne), over the years the number of men killed increased. William lost as many as 6,000 soldiers in one battle, which angered the English, and by the time the peace treaty at Riswijk was signed on 30 October 1697, the English were tired of fighting and dying for a king who seemed to be obsessed with his campaign against the French. The theatre-going audience was comprised of people who either fought in the war, or knew someone who fought/died in the war, or who were in some other way affected by the war, and this would have affected how they viewed references to political figures, events, allies, or enemies in the plays they attended. Besides feeling the burden of the loss of lives and the stress due to the drain on the labour force and lack of raw materials, the 1690s audience suffered from high taxes inflicted upon them to fund the war efforts. England spent an average annual total of £5,460,000 during the course of the war,6 and even after the war was over, William continued to spend money. In 1698 he appointed Hans Willem Bentinck, the First Earl of Portland, as the first official ambassador to France, and in March 1698 Portland arrived in Paris with an embassy that cost £40,000.7 Narcissus Luttrell notes on 1 January 1698 in his A Brief Historical Relation of State Affairs, ‘The embassy of the earl of Portland to France will by computation cost 40,000£.: he has 4 coaches made here; the best costs 600£.; and two more made in Holland, besides the coach of state made at Paris, which costs 6000£.: and on Wednesday his excellency designs to set forward’.8 The people were tired of being taxed only to have their money spent on such extravagance. The continued expense to the English people, combined with William’s departure every season to his hunting grounds at Het Loo, Holland,9 angered the English and sparked an anti-Dutch sentiment, which was manifested in ballads, lampoons and cartoons. This sentiment was also echoed in the House of Commons, which had a Tory majority who was anti-war and anti-army. The Commons reduced the army to 7,000 men and insisted that all soldiers be native born English. Luttrell notes on 17 December 1698, ‘That all the forces in England, under English pay, exceeding 7,000, commission and non commission

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

officers included, be forthwith paid and disbanded: which was this day reported, and agreed to, with this addition, that they be natives and not foreigners’.10 By the end of 1698, William’s popularity was at an all-time low among all facets of society and he was politically isolated. As a result, the 1690s audience would have included people who were tired of war and taxes, who harbored negative feelings towards foreigners (especially the Dutch and the French), and who felt detached from a king who seemed interested only in hunting at his grounds in Holland. This turbulent political, economic and psychological state assisted in the fickle nature of the audience. They knew what they liked (hence, the continued popularity of old plays), yet they did not want to see those conventions repeated in new plays. Theatre managers and playwrights had to meet the challenge of providing the audience with performances that would fill the seats and keep them coming back. The Players at Lincoln’s Inn Fields and the Patent Company at Drury Lane competed for the patronage of the theatre-going public. Revivals of old plays, new works by both established and up-and-coming playwrights, and even circus acts were used by both theatres to try to satisfy the diverse and unpredictable audience. Other critics have posited less convincing arguments as to why the sexual comedy of the 1670s ceased to be popular near the end of the century. Most notably is John Harrington Smith’s argument in his 1948 article, ‘Shadwell, the Ladies, and the Change in Comedy’. Smith suggests that the ladies present in the audience acted as a moral compass and demanded that theatres produce plays that were more ‘sentimental’ in nature.11 He concludes that respectable female theatre-goers were appalled by the sexual themes, bawdy language and innuendoes present in Restoration comedy; therefore they refused to attend such comedies, forcing the companies to perform plays where the female characters were virtuous and were successful in convincing their seducers to marry them. Smith also attributes the change in comedy to the plays of Thomas Shadwell, whose play The Lancashire Witches was first performed in 1681 and marked the beginning of what Smith terms ‘exemplary comedy’ as the play was more ‘sentimental’ in nature than those of his peers. Smith concludes, ‘It would seem, then, that most of the credit (or blame!) for the change in comedy should be divided between Shadwell, who, in order to correct the dubious morality of the plays of his contemporaries, invented the exemplary methods, and the ladies, who were revolted by the Wycherleyan phase of comedy and fought it by protest and boycott until – as is always likely to happen in any age – they got their way’.12 Smith’s assertions were challenged by Arthur H. Scouten and Robert D. Hume in their 1980 article, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences’. Smith’s argument hinges upon the assumption that all Restoration comedies were the same, and that as a result of the ladies and Shadwell, the comedies switched from being

The London Theatre World in the 1690s

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one type to being another. Scouten and Hume debunk the myth that all Restoration comedies were similar. They astutely argue that the types of plays popular during this time varied greatly, indicating that the needs of the diverse audience were being met. Scouten and Hume also challenge the notion that Shadwell had any real power to change the type of plays that was being performed. Drawing upon performance records, they argue, ‘Shadwell had little influence in the theatre between 1679 and 1688: indeed, he was more or less excluded from it after 1681’13 and point to the diversity of the successes and failures at the time as an indication of the ‘cranky’ nature of the audience. The point of this book is not to rehash the debate of homogeneity vs heterogeneity of pre-1700 and post-1700 drama, nor is it to definitively mark the ‘very first Sentimental comedy’, which has been attributed to Steele’s The Lying Lover (1703), Vanbrugh’s Aesop (1697) and Cibber’s Love’s Last Shift (1696) (among other plays). The universal fact is that by the 1690s the audience demanded something different from the new plays, and playwrights like Farquhar, Cibber, Vanbrugh and Steele struggled to give it to them. The playwrights’ livelihoods depended upon having a successful run, and while many playwrights at the time wore many hats (most notably Cibber who, at various points in his career was an actor, a manager and poet laureate), all hoped to reap the financial rewards that came with writing a popular play.

The Economics of Playwriting Scratching out a living as a playwright during the turn of the eighteenth century was a very difficult thing to do. There were several different paths to earning an income as a playwright, but not all avenues were available to all writers and nothing was guaranteed. One arrangement was the sharer or the ‘attached professional’. Sharers were rare; they were writers who had an exclusive contract with one particular theatre company. Dryden had such an agreement with the King’s Company. ‘As a sharer, Dryden bound himself to write three plays yearly; in 1677 the players alleged that for his share and a quarter Dryden had received £300 or £400 yearly even though he had sometimes produced only one play each year’.14 A playwright might also be commissioned by the theatre managers to write a script, which was once again a rare occurrence. Thomas Shadwell was lucky enough to benefit twice from commissions. During the season 1671–2, the King’s Company requested that he write a play in the style of Molière, the result of which was The Miser. The next year, the Duke’s Company requested that Shadwell write a libretto, the result of which was The Careless Lovers (1673).15 The most common method the theatre managers used to find new plays to perform was simply by accepting submissions. Hopeful playwrights would submit their works for consideration. A particularly ambitious playwright may

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

solicit help in the form of endorsements by successful writers or by the actors themselves, in an attempt to make sure that their play was read.16 Acceptance of a script by a manager, however, was not a guarantee of payment. Only if the play ran for three performances did the playwright receive any compensation, and that compensation was the profit made on the third night after the house charges had been paid. ‘These daily expenses ran about £25 early in the period and about £35 by the turn of the century. A passably full house at Drury Lane or Dorset Garden brought in something over £100 at ordinary prices.’17 Therefore, a fortunate playwright might earn between £75 and £100; however, this sum depended entirely on the success of the play. During the first few decades of the Restoration period, playwrights were only paid on the third night of a production, but near the end of the seventeenth century, they negotiated a better position and were paid the profits for every third night during the initial run of the play. Ambitious (or possibly desperate) playwrights might pressure family, friends, neighbors, or enemies to attend his/her play on benefit nights. Therefore, a successful play might earn a playwright two benefits (after running six nights) or even more, although extended initial runs were rare. The most detailed benefit negotiations that have survived concern Cibber’s payment for Woman’s Wit (1696). ‘[Cibber] was to pay the house charges on the third day; if the receipts at the following performance were at least £40, the drama would be offered a fifth time. If the income on that day came to £40, Cibber would receive the receipts (less the charges) on the sixth offering. If the box office brought in £40 on that day, the comedy would be acted a seventh time; and if the receipts then rose to £50, the charges assessed on the sixth day would be returned to Cibber.’18 One of the most successful playwrights to profit from the benefit system was John Gay. His play, The Beggar’s Opera (1728), ran for over sixty nights, ensuring fortune and notoriety for both Gay and John Rich, the manager of Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The 3 February 1728 edition of the Craftsman states, ‘This Week a Dramatick Entertainment has been exhibited at the Theatre in Lincoln’sInn-Fields, entitled The Beggar’s Opera, which has met with a general Applause, insomuch that the Waggs say it has made Rich very Gay, and probably will make Gay very Rich’. Gay’s unprecedented success notwithstanding, the majority of playwrights struggled financially, as they were completely at the mercy of the audience’s tastes. After the initial run, if the play entered into the repertory, the playwright did not receive any additional income for future performances. There were no residual rights and no copyright fees; the opportunity to earn income from the performance of the newly written play was over. A playwright did have the chance to profit a bit further from his/her work when negotiating with publishers. ‘The theatre was risky – audiences were fickle, and consequently authors faced considerable uncertainty about the size and number of their third night benefits – if indeed a play lasted three nights. By

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contrast, they found some security in the hard cash settlements, limited though they were in size, offered by publishers, regardless of whether the texts sold or not.’19 Like the potential earnings made on the third night, the amount a playwright could be paid for the publication of a play varied widely. Only one edition of Cibber’s Perolla and Izadora (1705) was printed, for which he received £36 11s. In that same year, the publisher Bernard Lintott paid Farquhar £16 2s. 6d. for The Recruiting Officer, which went into three editions in the first year. The following year Farquhar fared twice as well when he sold Lintott the rights to The Beaux Stratagem for £30.20 From the booksellers’ point of view, the printing of plays became a profitable endeavour throughout the eighteenth century. As a result, they would often pay playwrights in advance for the publication rights. ‘Lintott, for example, paid Farquhar for The Twin-Rivals twelve days before [the premiere], and for The Recruiting Officer fifty-six days before, and for The Beaux Stratagem forty days before’.21 Another avenue to potentially earn income was through dedications. Although there was no guarantee of payment, a well-written dedication to the proper person could bring the playwright a considerable amount of money. For example, in exchange for his dedication to the King in The Conscious Lovers, Steele received the very generous sum of 500 guineas.22 Therefore, the playwrights had several opportunities to profit from their writing, but exactly how much or in what manner (be it by benefit nights, publication, or dedication) was always unknown. The flexibility and the unpredictability of the earning potential of a play is, I argue, what drove the playwrights to experimentation. With the exception of the few playwrights who were attached professionals or who had a script commissioned, the profession of playwriting was contingent upon so many various factors that earning an income was not guaranteed. For the most part, the power lay completely in the hands of the audience – a point Farquhar bemoans in ‘A Discourse upon Comedy’ and one that I will explore in Chapter 5. As a result, the primary motivating factor behind the writing of a play was to please the spectators. Unlike some later playwrights who were motivated by larger theoretical issues, for example those who wrote to experiment with the concept of theatrical versus real time (Strindberg), with the distinction between actors and audience (Pirandello), or with the breakdown of language (Beckett), the playwrights at the turn of the eighteenth century primarily wrote to make money. This is not to say that theoretical, social, or political ideas were not a factor, but economic factors (for all besides the rare wealthy gentleman dabbler playwright) played a key role in the motivation to write and have the plays produced. When writing for profit, the playwright has to consider what he/she thinks will appeal to the audience. In the 1670s and 80s the audience had demonstrated a liking for farcical, raunchy sex comedy. Although certainly not the only type of comedy that was written and successful during those decades, Wycherly and

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Etherege had proven that comedies written in that style did fill the seats. By the time Farquhar wrote Love and a Bottle in the 1690s in the imitation of popular playwrights of the previous decades, the audience had decided that new comedies written in the old style were no longer acceptable. Farquhar began writing at a unique time in English theatre history, and he is the perfect model to use to understand how the comedy changed at the turn of the eighteenth century because of the course of his career. Farquhar wrote seven plays; his first one was a failure, but his last two, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem, were two of the most popular comedies in the eighteenth century. How did Farquhar finally hit upon a winning formula? Through experimentation. Experimentation is what Farquhar and his successful contemporaries used to write plays that satisfied the changing audience’s needs. Before the eighteenth century was to begin, however, the theatre companies had to resolve several issues that plagued them in the 1690s, but their resolution set the stage for the intense competition that motivated the ambitious playwrights.

The Beginnings of Experimentation: The 1690s The 1690s marked the beginning of the shift in the kinds of plays that were popular on the stage. The impetus for this new trend was the reorganization of the theatre companies. The United Company that existed at the beginning of the decade split in 1695, fostering hot competition between Drury Lane and Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Actors quarrelled with management, managers tried to figure out what would fill the theatres, and playwrights attempted to write plays that would draw a 1690s audience. By 1690 the United Company had been in existence for eight years. Since its formation in 1682 the management had gone through several changes, and by the early ’90s Thomas Davenant was handling the administrative affairs while Thomas Betterton was unofficially making the creative decisions. This partnership was formed as a result of the financial decisions made by Alexander Davenant (Thomas’s older brother). In 1687, Alexander bought shares of the United Company from his brother Charles with money borrowed from Sir Thomas Skipwith. In doing this, Davenant entered into an agreement that he would reap the profits of the shares in return for paying Skipwith weekly ‘rent’. This purchase gave Davenant control over the managerial structure of the company, so he dissolved the Betterton-William Smith team, which was established in 1682 when the United Company first formed, and made his brother, Thomas, manager. The deal with Skipwith also meant that if Davenant could not continue to pay his rent, the financial control over the company would fall to Skipwith, and this is eventually what happened. In 1690, Alexander Davenant’s financial problems forced him to sell his last remaining share in the company to Christopher Rich, which released control to Rich and

The London Theatre World in the 1690s

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Skipwith. In 1693 Davenant fled to the Canary Islands to escape his creditors, and Betterton was reinstated as day to day manager while Rich assumed the financial management duties. This arrangement continued until the rebellion began in 1694, which led to a split by the rebels in 1695. The years 1690 to 1695 were not a very exciting time in terms of new and creative English drama. Since there was only one company (and therefore no competition), there was no need to stage a lot of new plays that might or might not entice an audience. Instead, the managers decided to produce old favourites, which they knew were sure to make money. During the 1690–1 season, the United Company had tremendous success with Thomas Southerne’s Sir Anthony Love (September 1690) and Dryden’s Amphytrion (October 1690). Unfortunately, this could not be sustained, and there were no highly successful new plays until Congreve’s The Old Batchelour (March 1693) and Southerne’s The Fatal Marriage, or Innocent Adultery (February 1694). During this time the United Company did not develop any new playwrights (since they were mainly relying upon stock favourites), and this eventually hurt the theatres in 1695 when the company split and there was sudden competition and a need for new plays. The 1693–4 season was spent in a battle between Rich and Betterton for control. In 1694, Rich attempted to replace some of the older actors with the younger ones, who usurped the rights the older actors had to certain parts. By doing this, Rich tried to force expensive senior actors like Betterton and Elizabeth Barry to retire, but instead of retiring, they decided to rebel. Many actors were unhappy under Rich’s management, and in late 1694 the rebels, led by Betterton, drew up a Petition of the Players and presented it to the Lord Chamberlain.23 In this petition, the actors enumerated their complains against Rich, the majority of which centred around Rich’s financial decisions. Rich used the theatre to make a profit for himself, which meant that actors often did not receive their salaries. The petition lists several instances where the actors were promised certain wages or were assured a portion of the profits but never received them, and the actors also complained that they were being denied opportunities to perform and make a living. In an attempt to address the issues raised in the petition, the patentees submitted their extensive Reply on 10 December 1694. This placed the majority of the blame on Alexander Davenant and tried to draw connections between Davenant’s poor financial decisions and Betterton. The patentees also avoided answering many of the rebels’ charges, and instead focused on discrediting Betterton. The rebels had probably decided to succeed from the United Company before the Reply was submitted to the Lord Chamberlian, but after seeing that the patentees were not going to improve their working conditions, the rebels went to the Lord Chamberlain and obtained their own licence. This licence released them from Rich, and in the spring of 1695 Betterton and his

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

followers left and reopened Lincoln’s Inn Fields since Rich had control of Drury Lane and Dorset Garden. After the split, there were strengths and weaknesses in each company. Rich had the advantage of controlling both real theatres. Drury Lane was the theatre that was most often used, but Dorset Garden was the more elaborate machine house. Rich also had more money and control over the United Company’s costumes, equipment and scenery. Although Lincoln’s Inn Fields was the smallest of the theatres, Betterton had the advantage in personnel, since most of the established and experienced actors and actresses sided with him against Rich. Although neither company had a repertory (plays that they had rehearsed/performed and could put on with minimal effort), Betterton’s more experienced and diverse company could put on virtually any play, whereas Rich’s company was more limited in what they could perform. With the opening of the new theatre at Lincoln’s Inn Fields came renewed interest in new plays, as each company tried to entice a bigger audience than the other. The rebels were able to start their season successfully with Congreve’s Love for Love (April 1695). However, the first full season of competition (1695– 6) was not very profitable for either company. Although the patentees did have successes with Thomas Southerne’s Oroonoko (November 1695) and Colley Cibber’s Love’s Last Shift ( January 1696), in an effort to save money, both companies put on several pre-1695 plays because no one wanted to enter into an expensive legal battle over the rights. During the 1696–7 season, Rich’s company profited from John Vanbrugh’s The Relapse (November 1696), and the rebels once again received a boost from Congreve with the production of his play The Mourning Bride (February 1697). During the season of 1697–8 the companies began to suffer from an additional source of competition – public concerts. Neither company had any great successes, although Roscius Anglicanus states that George Granville’s Heroick Love (c. January 1698) was ‘Superlatively Writ; a very good Tragedy, well Acted, and mightily pleas’d the Court and City’.24 The season of 1698–9 saw the unsuccessful debut of Farquhar’s first play, Love and a Bottle, which will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 2. Once again, neither company enjoyed great profits throughout the entire season. Both Betterton and Rich were feeling the pressure of the public’s need for spectacle, so they imported singers and dancers to appeal to a wide audience. Love and a Bottle was spiced up to include songs and dances in an effort to turn a profit. The 1690s were also a significant decade in English theatre history because in 1698, Jeremy Collier published A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage (April 1698), which launched a pamphlet war concerning the state of the theatre. Collier ranted against what he saw as a decline of morals as represented on stage. He believed that the theatre had ‘misbehaved with regards to smuttiness of expression, swearing, profaneness, lewd application of scripture,

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abuse of the scripture, abuse of the clergy, making their top characters libertines, and giving them success in their debauchery’.25 He stated that the depiction of human behaviour on stage erased the distinction between man and beast, and he named particular playwrights and plays who were indicative of this moral decline. Collier attacked Dryden, D’Urfey, Wycherley, Congreve and Vanbrugh. Congreve, Vanbrugh and D’Urfey resented Collier’s attacks and wrote pamphlets in response. Dryden was submissive in his response and Wycherley gave no direct reply. Collier’s actual impact on the cleaning up of the stage has been debate by many critics over the years. Several early and twentieth-century critics believed that Collier powerful language had its intended effect.26 However, in recent years, the true nature of Collier’s impact has been questioned.27 When looking closely at the pattern of experimentation that emerges around the turn of the eighteenth century, there is no evidence to support the argument that Collier influenced the playwrights to change or clean up the content in the new plays they were writing. Some playwrights continued to write without any acknowledgement to Collier, while others, like Farquhar and Susana Centlivre, simply addressed Collier in their prologues – Farquhar in Love and a Bottle (1698) and Centlivre in The Perjur’d Husband (1700) – without attempting to please Collier and his followers in future plays. Collier is important to note as a socio-political phenomenon, but he was one who generated a lot of fervour with little effect. As a brief side note, the Collier controversy can be used to help date Farquhar’s The Adventures of Covent Garden. Published anonymously, Covent Garden appeared between the premiere of Love and a Bottle in early December (the exact date is unknown) and the play’s publication on 29 December 1698. Farquhar’s references to Collier indicate that Covent Garden must have been written (at least in part) after his arrival in London from Ireland in early 1698. In his preface to the reader, Farquhar disassociates himself from many factions in society, including those who are in agreement with Collier. ‘If ye are so good Philosophers as to find out the Author by a Negative Definition take it; he is neither Collierist nor Poet, neither Aesop of Tunbridge, nor Aesop of Beth … and for an Englishman not to belong to any of these Factions, is somewhat strange.’28 Within the text of the prose work, Farquhar has his characters comment upon the controversy. The characters state that the best way to respond to Collier’s tract is not to respond at all, because ‘there was so much Fire in his Book, had not his Adversaries thrown in Fuel, it would have fed upon it self, and so have gone out in a blaze’.29 They point out that even though he is a clergyman, Collier is full of malice and is very dull; however, his adversaries give Collier too much credit by responding to his accusations. During the discourse the characters also claim that in the battle between Collier and his enemies, the real loser will be the stage, which will suffer from being the site of the war. Although Farquhar puts

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these claims in the mouths of his characters, we can conclude from these discussions in Covent Garden and from the preface of The Twin Rivals (1702) that while Farquhar was acutely aware Collier’s tirades against the stage, he did not agree with Collier’s opinion nor did he attempt to alter his plays in a way that would appease Collier. Love and a Bottle was not written with Collier in mind, and the comedy hearkens back to many of the conventions popular in 1670s and ’80s comedies.

2 ORIGINS OF ‘HUMANE COMEDY’: FARQUHAR, CONGREVE, CIBBER AND VANBRUGH

As the author of two of the most popular humane comedies in the eighteenth century, Farquhar is the perfect lens through which to investigate the change in comedy. The beginning of Farquhar’s career emerges during the first full-competition season after the split of the United Company, and his first play, Love and a Bottle, represents a hold-over of previous conventions. Love and a Bottle is emblematic of the old – stock characters and predictable plots – but he was not to be thwarted by the play’s poor reception. In fact, Farquhar’s experience only served to inspire him to try something different, and that something different was The Constant Couple. The phenomenal success of The Constant Couple heralded an era of humane comedies, and together with Congreve, Cibber, and Vanbrugh, Farquhar illustrated that experimentation could bring the playwrights the financial success they sought.

Love and a Bottle and the Lessons Learned Love and a Bottle was the first attempt by the young Farquhar to break into the world of playwriting. The play probably premiered in December 1698, but the exact date is unknown.1 The number of nights the play ran is also unclear, although there is evidence that Farquhar received at least one benefit.2 Probably no one who attended the run of Love and a Bottle would have guessed that Farquhar was quickly to become one of the best (and most successful) comic playwrights of his generation. Love and a Bottle is a very formulaic and backward-looking play, but clearly Farquhar learned something from its reception. What other plays had been performed in the 1698–9 season? Although performance records during this time are sketchy, there is evidence that Rich’s company at Drury Lane had an early hit with Motteaux’s semi-operatic adaptation of The Island Princess (November 1698). The success of this performance gave Drury Lane a victory over Lincoln’s Inn Fields’s Rinaldo and Armida (November 1698). Rich’s company had the advantage of a bigger theatre and – 23 –

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708

more resources to erect an operatic spectacle, and in the end, they were able to entice a bigger audience. A Comparison Between the Two Stages notes, ‘The Quality, who are always Lovers of good Musick, flock hither, and by almost a total revolt from the other House, give this new Life, and set it in some eminency above the New; this was a sad mortification to the old Stagers in Lincolns-Innfields’.3 The London Stage also informs us that during the month of November, Drury Lane produced old repertory standards like Nathaniel Lee’s The Rival Queens (19 November), Dryden and Lee’s Oedipus (26 November) and John Fletcher’s The Night Walker (28 November); however, none of these filled the theatre like The Island Princess. By the time Love and a Bottle was performed in December, Rich and his company were anxious for another success. In The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century, Hume gives a list of common plots in Restoration plays, and Love and a Bottle can easily be plugged into Hume’s outline. ‘Most of the plays turn on the exploits on the male lead who is commonly an amiable young man in quest of a wife … The “friend” is almost ubiquitous. He may vary from an equal personage who goes through a parallel courtship … to a distinctly secondary figure … but a hero’s friend there almost certainly will be.’4 Roebuck is obviously the hero of the story; however, instead of being in search of a wife, he is trying to escape the mistress he left in Ireland. He is keeping his eyes open for any young ladies he can woo and for any way he can come into some money to support his lifestyle. His ‘friend’ is the virtuous Lovewell who is in love with Lucinda. Lovewell has competition in Mockmode, who Lucinda has been set up to marry, although she has never seen him. Hume notes, ‘Naturally the heroine has her friend and confidante – often admirably suited to the second male. (If there is no friend, a scheming maid is usually introduced).’5 In Love and a Bottle Farquhar gives us both with a slight difference. Pindress is Lucinda’s maid and the one she expresses her feelings to, and Leanthe (Lovewell’s sister) is the woman suited to one of the two main characters, in this case it happens to be Roebuck. The final outcome is a romantic pairing of both couples, which is achieved after a series of common plot devices. Plot device number one – mistaken identity. Confusing one person with another is what gives Love and a Bottle momentum and allows situations to happen. For example, Lovewell agrees to help Roebuck to avoid Trudge, so, in an attempt to do so, Lovewell tells him to stay at the tavern and to take the name Mockmode. At the end of the play, when Roebuck attempts to woo Lucinda, he tells her his name is Mockmode, which causes her to believe that he is the one who was promised to her. Lovewell also gets Trudge a room in the tavern but passes her off as a widow instead of an unwed mistress. The real Mockmode, however, hears of Trudge and assumes that she is Lucinda (whom he has never met, yet is contracted to marry), even though he is unsure of her marital status. Mockmode says, ‘By the Universe I don’t remember whether my Mistress is Maid

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or Widow: But a Widow, so much the Better; for all your London widows are devilish rich they say’.6 This assumption leads to confusion by the end of the play, when Mockmode is tricked out of £100 (which he pays Lyrick to find a parson to marry them) and then £500 (which he pays to unmarry them) before he realizes that the ‘parson’ is really the landlady in disguise. Other mistaken identities include Lucinda assuming that Trudge is Lovewell’s mistress, and there is also a scene which takes place in the dark where Lovewell and Leanthe mistake each other for Roebuck and Lucinda. A brief comic sub-plot even relies upon identity confusion when Lyrick, who has been delinquent in paying his debts, switches attire with Pamphlet, the bookseller, right before the debt collectors enter with the intent of carrying Lyrick off to prison. The bailiffs arrest Pamphlet (despite his assertions that he is not Lyrick) because his attire makes him appear to be a writer instead of a bookseller. Plot device number two – the use of disguises. A disguise is what allows Leanthe to get close to and eventually trick Roebuck into marrying her. She dresses up like a boy and tells Roebuck that Leanthe sent her to be his page. By doing this she is able to get physically closer to the one she loves and position herself for the marriage, which happens at the end of the play. After Roebuck introduces himself to Lucinda as Mockmode, she agrees to marry him. However, she and Leanthe trade places for the actual ceremony (unbeknownst to Roebuck) and Leanthe weds Roebuck. Leanthe’s ultimate plan could not have been accomplished without the disguise. Other disguises include the landlady dressing like a parson, and in the beginning of the play Lucinda and Pindress don masks so that they can talk freely and interact with Roebuck without his knowing who they are. Plot device number three – the use of a letter to forward the action. Often in Restoration plays there is a letter (author known or unknown) that helps to further develop the plot. For example, wrong letters are exchanged in Congreve’s The Double-Dealer (1694) and one character pretends to be another in a letter in Cibber’s Love’s Last Shift (1696). In Love and a Bottle, Lucinda writes a letter to Roebuck, which is intercepted by Lovewell (who pretends to be Roebuck – see plot device number one) which reads, ‘My behaviour towards you this morning was somewhat strange; but I shall tell you the cause of it, if you meet me at Ten this night in our Garden; the Back-door shall be open’.7 Sometime afterwards Lovewell accidentally drops the letter and it is read by Mockmode. The end result is the convergence of Roebuck, Lovewell and Mockmode upon Lucinda’s garden in the dark, which, of course, leads to more mistaken identities (see plot device number one). What kind of play is Love and a Bottle? Farquhar’s first play is quite unoriginal in its plot and is full of stock characters. Roebuck is the roguish gentleman who, throughout the course of the play, tries to entice Lucinda to bed while

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subsequently avoiding his previous mistress and mother of his two children, Trudge. Lovewell is the romantic suitor (the double gallant) who demonstrates all of the qualities that Roebuck lacks. The pairing of a male lead and his friend is very common in plays during this time, and in this case the characters are moral opposites. Mockmode is the fop in Love and a Bottle. His ignorance of and interest in fashionable language, behaviour and dances make him the butt of his scenes. Lucinda is the romantic female lead and the object of desire for Roebuck, Lovewell and Mockmode, while Leanthe is the pining lover who devises a way to catch the attention (and subsequently the heart) of Roebuck. She is also virtuous, but unlike Lucinda she is witty and clever, and adventurous enough to don men’s clothes in an effort to trick Roebuck into marrying her. Trudge is the mistress who has been cast aside by Roebuck. She is angry, bitter and sad over the condition he left her in (she bore him twins) and is intent on winning him back. There are other minor character types in Love and a Bottle like the professionals (Rigadoon, the dancing-master, and Nimblewrist, the fencing-master, Bullfinch, the landlady) and the servants (Club, Brush and Pindress). There is even a brief, humorous sub-plot concerning Lyrick, the poet, and his attempt to avoid the debt collectors. All of these characters behave in predictable ways and conform to types common in many other Restoration plays. In Love and a Bottle Farquhar uses a formula that worked well for the popular plays of the past, and creates stock characters that move through stock situations. The initial production relied upon the company’s broad comedians in these stock character roles to entice the audience. William Bullock, whose specialities included fops, country bumpkins, comic Irishmen and hotheads, played Mockmode. Joseph Haines, whose previous roles included Sparkish in The Country Wife and Captain Bluffe in The Old Batchelour, played the minor roles of Pamphlet and Rigadoon. The production also relied upon the comic talents of William Pinkethman (who had previously appeared as Snap in Love’s Last Shift and Lory in The Relapse) in the minor role of Club, Mockmode’s servant. The other parts were fairly predictable. Joseph Williams, who was an experienced actor, played Roebuck, the Irish gentleman with a passion for women. John Mills, who would continue to have prominent parts in Farquhar’s future works, played Lovewell. The virtuous Lucinda was played by Jane Rogers, who Cibber described in his Apology as being a woman who took her virtuous roles very seriously. ‘I have formerly known an Actress carry this Theatrical Prudery to such a height, that she was, very near, keeping herself chaste by it.’8 The cast also included Leanthe, played by Maria Alison, and Trudge, played by Margaret Mills, the wife of John Mills. Throughout the course of Love and a Bottle, the tone remains very light and humorous. There is a lot of witty banter back and forth between the characters, and the humour is found in both the situations and the wordplay. Even though

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this is his first play, Faquhar demonstrates an obvious talent for language and dialogue: Mockmode: Ay, ay, Madam. But what’s most modish for Beverage? for I suppose that fashion of that alters always with the Cloaths. Bullfinch: The Taylors are the best Judges of that – But Champaigne, I suppose. Mockmode: Is Champaigne a Taylor? Now methinks that were a fitter name for a Wig-maker. – I think they call my Wig a Champaigne. Bullfinch: You’re clear out, Sir, clear out. Champaigne is a fine Liquor, which all you great Beaux drink to make ’em witty. Mockmode: Witty! Oh by the Universe I must be witty. I’ll drink nothing else; I never was witty in all my life. I love Jokes dearly. – Here, Club, bring us a Bottle of what d’ye call it? the witty Liquor.9

This quick banter and entertaining wordplay is characteristic of the dialogue in Love and a Bottle, and are theatrical elements that continued to reappear in later, more successful plays. Farquhar is also able, within a few lines, to establish the characters. Although he relies upon stock characterizations, by the first bit of dialogue the reader can quickly and easily determine who is the fop, the virtuous woman, the scorned mistress, et al. Although Farquhar continues to develop his witty dialogue throughout the rest of his career, there are things that he does in Love and a Bottle that he does not do again, namely rely on 1670s and 1680s plot devices and stereotypical characters to carry the action of the play. Love and a Bottle is a mix of autobiographical experiences and other popular plays. During his early travels from his home in Londonderry, Ireland to London, Farquhar contracted a serious illness that incapacitated him and used up most of his money.10 In Love and a Bottle, Roebuck, who may be loosely based on Farquhar himself, casually mentions an illness he suffered. Kenny states, ‘His play bears the stamp of autobiographical characterization plus the literary bequests of favourite playwrights whose works Farquhar had read, seen, and perhaps acted’.11 Of all of Farquhar’s plays, Love and a Bottle is the most literary and echoes Molière, Shakespeare, and other Restoration plays like Behn’s The Rover. The heavy dependence upon past popular plays is partially responsible for Love and a Bottle’s limited run. By the turn of the century, audiences had grown tired of the same stock characters and plot devices. Farquhar had every reason to believe that Love and a Bottle would be well received – 1670s plays were still in the repertory and were still doing fairly well. However, the 1698 audience wanted something different in the new plays. As a result of Love and a Bottle’s reception, Farquhar abandoned the old formula and attempted something new and different for his next play. With his second attempt at playwriting, Farquhar hit upon something that worked.

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The Appeal of The Constant Couple In his second play, The Constant Couple, Farquhar moved away from the traditional plot formulas and characters that were evident in Love and a Bottle. The first known performance of The Constant Couple was on 28 November 1699, and the play ran for a phenomenal fifty-three nights in London and twenty-three in Dublin. This record was not broken until the season of 1727–8 when John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera played for sixty-two nights.12 Farquhar’s audience was enthralled by the original plot, and Robert Wilks and the other actors shone in their roles. What made The Constant Couple popular was that the play was different and was a departure from the comedy of the 1660s, 1670s, 1680s and even 1690s. What makes The Constant Couple a humane comedy? Farquhar’s second comedy exhibits characteristics unlike any other play that season. One of the most obvious differences is in the types of characters Farquhar created, especially Sir Harry Wildair. In Sir Harry, Farquhar expands upon the Restoration comedy fop. Sir Harry is overtly concerned with appearances (‘I can dance, sing, ride, fence, understand the languages’),13 loves to woo women (he splits his affections between Lurewell and Angelica), and would rather talk than fight (he refuses to duel Standard for Lurewell’s affections). However, instead of laughing at him or even hating him for his exaggerations and endless chatter, we find ourselves liking him, rooting for him and even pitying him. In Sir Harry, Farquhar has created a character who is more complex than his predecessors, and because of that we enjoy his escapades and possibly see a bit of ourselves in him. One of Sir Harry’s truly human moments comes when he visits Angelica thinking that she is a prostitute. In 1670s plays we might grow angry at the character for assuming that the virtuous young maid was a woman of ill repute, or we might laugh at his buffoonish behaviour and false supposition. In The Constant Couple, however, we react differently. We cringe as Sir Harry repeatedly makes allusions to his reason for visiting, and we want him to leave, or we want Angelica to let Sir Harry know that he is mistaken. Sir Harry is completely human and is torn between his desire and his guilt. Although he thinks that he is there to exchange money for sexual favours, the guilt of what he is doing keeps him from discussing outright the reason for his visit. ‘How innocent she looks! how wou’d that Modesty adorn Virtue, when it makes even Vice look so charming! – By Heav’n there is such a commanding Innocence in her looks, That I dare not ask the Question.’14 He then changes his mind and says, ‘Madam – I, I – Zoons, I cannot speak to her – But she’s a Whore, and I will’.15 This internal conflict makes the character of Sir Harry more real. Once Sir Harry realizes his mistake, he is embarrassed and upset with himself. He weighs his options and decides that the proper thing for him to do is

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to marry Angelica. ‘Here I am brought to a very pretty Dilemma; I must commit Murder, or commit Matrimony, which is best now? A license from Doctors Commons, or a Sentence from the Old Baily; If I kill my Man, the Law hangs me; if I marry my Woman, I shall hang my self; – but, Dam it, – Cowards dare fight, I’ll marry that’s that most daring Action of the two, so my dear Cousin Angelica, have at you.’16 While Sir Harry’s decision to marry Angelica might suit many other Restoration characters, we do get the chance to see how he views his actions and how he feels about the situation. The character of Sir Harry is complex; we see his strengths and his faults and we are given insight into his behaviour and his feelings, which allows us to identify and sympathize with this character. Kenny notes, however, that Farquhar rewrote the key scene (V.i 93–246) between Harry and Angelica, and while the final version projects an image of a bumbling, apologetic, embarrassed man when he realizes that Angelica is not a whore, the Sir Harry who appeared in the original scene (which was rewritten either during rehearsal or early in the first run) is much more gallant and not a comical figure. In the final version, Sir Harry never directly says that he is there to buy sex from Angelica. He gives her a bag containing a hundred Guineas and insinuates that the money is in exchange for services. In this scene Lady Darling enters and Sir Harry questions her as to why her ‘daughter’ will not accept his offer. Not once, however, are the words prostitute or whore mentioned. In fact, when Sir Harry is about to explain his reasons for being there, he is cut off. Wildair: Ay, she will in plain Terms; then Madam, in downright English, I offer’d your Daughter a hundred Guinea’s to – Angelica: Hold Sir, stop your abusive Tongue, too loose for Modest Ears to bear. – Madam, I did before suspect that his Designs were base, now they’re too plain; this Knight, this Mighty Man of Wit and Humours, is made a Tool to a Knave; Vizard has sent him of a Bully’s Errand, to affront a woman; but I scorn the Abuse, and him that offer’d it.17

When Sir Harry finally realizes his mistake, out of embarrassment he is only able to bow to the women three times while uttering ‘Ay, Madam’, ‘Yes, Madam’, and ‘Right, Madam’.18 In the original version of the scene, Sir Harry behaves quite differently. He is very direct in his reason for approaching Angelica. Wildair: Then Madam, I have a fair Claim to Courage; for, by all Hopes of Happiness, I ne’er was aw’d so much, nor ever felt the Power of Fear before: – But since I can’t dissolve this Knot, – I’ll cut it at a Stroak. Vizard (who, I fear is a Villain) told me you were a Prostitute; that he had known you, and sent a Letter, intimating, my Designs to the old Gentlewoman, who, I suppos’d has licens’d my proceeding by leaving us so oft in private.

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708 Angelica: That Vizard is a Villain, damn’d beyond the Curses of an injur’d Woman, is most true; But that his Letter signified any dishonourable Proceedings, is as false.19

The beating around the bush and the double entendre of the final version is funnier than this direct statement. In the original version, the character of Lady Darling does enter, so Sir Harry is spared the embarrassment of realizing his mistake in front of another person. The Sir Harry in the original scene is more gallant when the truth is revealed. Instead of being at a loss for words and bowing awkwardly, he very eloquently says, ‘Stay, Madam; he’s too base an Offering for such Purity: But Justice has inspir’d me with a nobler Thought. – I throw a purer Victim at your Feet, my honourable Love and Fortune: If chastest, purest Passion, with a large and fair Estate, can make amends, they’re yours this Moment. – The matrimonial Tye shall bind us Friends this Hour. – Nay, Madam, no Reply, unless you smile. – Let but a pleasing Look fore-run my Sentence: then raise me up to Joy.’20 This Sir Harry is not looking to avoid committing a crime by ‘committing matrimony’. He is sincere, well spoken and a gentleman, but most importantly, he is not funny. In order to be consistent with the character as he is represented earlier in the play, Farquhar had to rewrite this scene. The behaviour we see in the final version completes the image we have of Sir Harry, and succeeds in making him a humorous and likeable character. The gentleman who is present in the original version would be fine if Sir Harry were the serious romantic lead, but as the comical, fop-like character, Sir Harry’s reaction to his grand faux pas needs to be more appropriate to his personality. David Roberts, in The Ladies: Female Patronage of Restoration Drama, 1660–1700, argues that this scene (as it appears in the final version) was written to appeal to the concerns of the ‘ladies’, or well-bred, moral women in the audience. The ladies disapproved of the use of such words as ‘prostitute’ to describe the virtuous Angelica, so therefore the revised scene better suits their sensibilities.21 There is no evidence, however, to support this claim. The Constant Couple can also be considered a humane comedy because of the lighter, less biting humour that permeates the play. Instead of writing scenes that border between making us laugh and making us feel uncomfortable (for example, in The Country-Wife when Mr Pinchwife locks Margery in the house so that no other man can look at her), Farquhar puts us entirely at ease with his representation of the bumbling actions of Sir Harry. The comical situations in The Constant Couple do not contain the harsh tone that is evident in many 1670s plays. Consider this list of the humorous elements in Farquhar’s comedy: • the scenes between Sir Harry and Angelica (they make us cringe, but they are funny nonetheless) (III.ii; V.i)

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• the character of Dicky (originally played by Henry Norris) who can ‘powder and Wig, and pick up a Whore’22 (II.i) • the mix-up between Clincher Senior and Tom Errand (III. iii) • Clincher Junior’s reaction to the news that his brother is dead (IV.i) • the arrest of Smuggler who, dressed in women’s clothes, is mistaken for a thieving nurse (IV.ii) Farquhar is able to take his characters to the brink of a potentially serious situation without ever crossing the line into the uncomfortable or the harsh. The humour is lighter, and we laugh because we see the characters in precarious situations but we know that they will find a way out with which we are comfortable. For example, Clincher Senior goes to Newgate accused of killing Tom Errand, but instead of carrying out this potentially dark situation to the brink of execution (like in Steele’s The Lying Lover (1703), Farquhar allows Clincher Senior to escape any real harm by having him change clothes again with Tom Errand and find his brother to reclaim his birthright. Clincher Senior also does not seek any revenge or punishment upon his brother for rejoicing at the news of his supposed death. While characters in 1670s comedies may have been beaten, arrested, or humiliated for their actions, Clincher Junior is the recipient of no such punishment, and instead simply resumes his position as the younger brother. This good natured humour and these easy remedies permeate The Constant Couple and make the play a new and refreshing change from earlier comedies. The audience would also have noted that the dialogue of The Constant Couple is different and helps to support the more complex characters and the humorous situations. While 1670s comedies placed a lot of emphasis on wit, humane comedy is more interested in creating dialogue that helps to build characters, and Farquhar uses dialogue in this way. Sir Harry is the most notable example: ‘I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch Ship; I there had a Dutch Whore for five Stivers; I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drub’d in the Battle with the but-end of a Swiss Musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen Intreagues, bought half a dozen new Suits, fought a couple of Duels, and here I am agen in statu quo’.23 With just this little piece of dialogue, which Farquhar presents almost immediately upon introducing the character, we are able to form a picture of the kind of the person Sir Harry is. Farquhar uses this same technique for most of his characters, and we very quickly learn where characters are from, how they think and what motivates them. Clincher Junior is called a ‘Country Booby’ by his bother, and he does appear to be one by the questions he asks (‘Jubilee! what’s that?’) and the oaths that he utters (‘O Jupiter Ammon! why so?’).24 Clincher Junior’s servant, Dicky, while a minor character, is still given a distinct personality evident through the dialogue:

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708 Clincher Junior. O Lord! O Lord! a Whore! Why are there many Whores in this town? Dicky. Ha, ha, ha, many Whores! there’s a Question indeed; why Sir, there are above five hundred Surgeons in Town – Harkee Sir, do you see that Woman there in the Velvet Scarf, and red Knots? Clincher Junior. Ay Sir, What then? Dicky. Why she shall be at your Service in three minutes, As I’m a Pimp25

In just these few short lines of dialogue, we have a perception of the character of Dicky. Even though this role was small, Henry Norris played the character so well that for the rest of his career he was known as ‘Jubilee Dicky’. The importance of wit in 1670s comedies was especially evident in interactions between male and female lovers, and the witty repartèe was seen as humorous by earlier audiences. The conversations between lovers serve a different purpose in The Constant Couple. For example, dialogue is used to build the character of Lurewell, who has been hurt by a previous lover and who now swears she will misuse any man who shows interest in her. She plays with her lovers’ affections and keeps the men around as a form of entertainment. When she fears that Standard is going to leave her, she quickly thinks of a way to make him stay. Lurewell. Now the Devil take thee for being so honourable; Here Parly, call him back, I shall lose half my Diversion Else; now for a trial of Skill. Re-enter Standard Sir, I hope you’ll pardon my Curiosity, When do you take your Journey? Standard. Tomorrow Morning early, Madam. Lurewell. So suddenly! which way are you design’d to travel? Standard. That I can’t yet resolve on. Lurewell. Pray, Sir, tell me, pray Sir, I entreat you, why are you so obstinate? Standard. Why are you so curious, Madam? Lurewell. Because – Standard. What? Lurewell. Because, I, I, – Standard. Because! what Madam? – pray tell me. Lurewell. Because I design – to follow you. (Crying) Standard. Follow me! by all that’s great! I ne’re was proud Before, but Love from such a Creature might Swell the vanity of the proudest Prince; follow me! By Heavans thou shalt not. What! expose thee to the Hazards of a Camp! – Rather I’ll stay, and here bear The Contempt of Fools, and worst of Fortune.26

Lurewell is playing a game here, but instead of engaging in a witty exchange full of double meanings (which is common in 1660s and ’70s comedy), she is revealing her ability to think quickly on her feet and her desire to manipulate men for her entertainment. Throughout The Constant Couple, Farquhar uses dialogue in this way. What the characters say and how they say it gives the audience an

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insight into what kind of people they are. As a result, the characters seem alive and well rounded, and we enjoy watching them interact with each other. All of these elements make The Constant Couple a different kind of comedy, a humane comedy. Who might have been Farquhar’s inspirations? He was seeing other plays and reading published versions, so he would have been aware of the types of comedies produced in the past, and there were a few previous plays in which certain elements of humane comedy can be seen. One of the earliest examples is Congreve’s Love for Love (1695), which was one of Congreve’s most popular plays, and the comedy was published and revived several times. Farquhar would have been familiar with the play, and he would have been aware of the multifaceted and interesting character of Angelica and Congreve’s use of dialogue to create her character. Although the ‘virtuous maid’, Angelica is not the typical heroine. Instead of being meek and mild, railing against men, or lamenting her unmarried status, she has a sharp tongue and can be mean to those around her. For example, when Foresight refuses to lend Angelica his coach, she threatens him. ‘Will you lend me your Coach, or I’ll go on – Nay, I’ll declare how you prophecy’d Popery was coming, only because the Butler had mislaid some of the Apostle’s Spoons, and though they were lost. Away went Religion and Spoonmeat together – Indeed, Uncle, I’ll indite you for a Wizard.’27 She harshly teases him about being made a cuckold when his wife goes abroad without him, and she does not seem bothered by the fact that Foresight calls her ‘malapert Slut’, ‘Hussie’, and ‘Minx’.28 Angelica also masks her true feelings about Valentine, which even keeps the audience guessing whether or not she really loves him. Congreve uses dialogue to build and develop Angelica’s character, and the conversation between Valentine and Angelica is different from the witty repartee of the past. Angelica. You can’t accuse me of Inconstancy; I never told you, that I lov’d you. Valentine. But I can accuse you of Uncertainty, for not telling me whether you did or no. Angelica. You mistake Indifference for Uncertainty; I never had Concern enough to ask my self the Question.29

Angelica is interesting because she is unpredictable. She says things that we do not expect a heroine to say. Congreve’s depiction of characters like Angelica and popularity of Love for Love would have influenced Farquhar as he sat down to create personalities like Sir Harry Wildair. New types of characters were also created by Cibber in Love’s Last Shift (1696). Once again, Farquhar would have been familiar with this popular comedy and would have seen that Cibber was experimenting with situations and developing different characters in his play. Two elements of Love’s Last Shift stand out: firstly, the creation of both a virtuous woman and a seductress in the

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character of Amanda and, secondly, the fact that Loveless’s conversion at the end of the play seems real and sincere (or is at least treated that way by Cibber and the characters). Love’s Last Shift begins in a fairly traditional way. Loveless is living a debauched life and his faithful wife, Amanda, is still mourning the loss of her husband even though eight years have passed since he left her. At this point, however, the play takes a few unexpected turns. Instead of the virtuous wife pleading for her husband to return (and, of course, he would see the error of his ways because her heart remained pure over the years), Amanda instead agrees to Young Worthy’s plan that she try to seduce her husband into coming back. This strange mixture of virtuous wife/whore is new and different from the portrayal of women in other Restoration comedies. Amanda does struggle briefly with the dual role: ‘Why, if I court and conquer him, as a Mistress, am not I accessary to his violating the Bonds of Marriage? For tho’ I’m his Wife, yet while he loves me not as such, I encourage an unlawful Passion; and tho’ the Act be safe, yet his Intent is criminal: How can I answer this?’30 Amanda is able to eventually shake the guilt and become the seducer. She is neither solely wife nor mistress, but is some combination of the two, which the audience had not encountered before, making it a humane comedy. Part of what makes this melding of character types believable is the fact that the plan works. Amanda is able to convince her husband to go to bed with her, and once she reveals her true identity, Loveless is filled with regret over his past actions. Loveless. I have wrong’d you. Oh! rife! basely wrong’d you! And can I see your Face? Amanda. One kind, one pitying Look cancels those Wrongs forever: and oh! forgive my fond presuming Passion; for from my Soul I pardon and forgive you all: All, al but this, the greatest, your unkind Delay of Love. Loveless. Oh! seal my Pardon with thy trembling Lips, while with this tender Grasp of fond reviving Love I seize my Bliss, and stifle all thy Wrongs for ever.31

Cibber has so successfully created a repentant character that we believe Loveless truly regrets his past and will reform in the future. Loveless cries, he claims that he used Amanda like a villain, and laments the fact that he spent all of Amanda’s fortune.32 At the very end of the play, Loveless issues a warning to all those who might follow in his path. ‘By my Example taught, let every Man, whose Fate has bound him to a marry’d Life, beware of letting loose his wild Desires: For if Experience may be allow’d to judge, I must proclaim the Folly of a wandring Passion.’33 This speech is the final one of the play, which leaves the audience with a sense that Loveless has truly reformed, and that his transformation was sincere. Love’s Last Shift is also devoid of the cynicism of the earlier comedies, which makes the play an early example of humane comedy.

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The Constant Couple differs in a few significant ways, however, from Love’s Last Shift. Cibber’s play holds onto some 1670s comedy elements, especially in the representation of Sir Novelty Fashion. Unlike Sir Harry, who behaves like a fop in some aspects but not all, Cibber’s character is described in the dramatis personae as ‘A Coxcomb that loves to be the first in all Foppery’.34 True to his name, Sir Novelty Fashion loves to look good. Narcissa: He a Genius! unsufferable! Why he dresses worse than a Captain of the Militia: But you, Sir Novelty, are a true Original, the very Pink of Fashion; I’ll warrant you there’s not a Milliner in Town but has got an Estate by you. Sir Novelty: I must confess, Madam, I am for doing good to my Country: For you see this Suit, Madam. – I suppose you are not ignorant what a hard time the Ribbon-Weavers have had since the late Mourning: Now my design is to set the poor Rogues up again, by recommending this sort of Trimming: The Fancy is pretty well for second Mourning. – By the way, Madam, I had fifteen hundred Guineas laid in my Hand, as a Gratuity, to encourage it: But, I’gad, I refus’d ’em, being too well acquainted with the Consequence of taking a Bribe in a national Concern!35

Sir Novelty is the object of ridicule; Hillaria mocks him, and we find him worthy of mocking. We laugh as he switches his affections from Hillaria to Narcissa. We laugh as he approaches Sir William Wifewoud about marrying Narcissa, and we laugh as Flareit boxes his ears after he insults her. The character of Sir Novelty is humorous, but not in the same way as Sir Harry. He is a conceited, pretentious peacock, and we are laughing at him, not with him. Farquhar did something different in The Constant Couple, and the audience responded. He is not the first author to make the humour lighter, to create more complex characters or to use dialogue to give insight into the characters, but he is the first one to put them all together successfully. Humane comedy elements are evident in the plays of Congreve, Cibber and Vanbrugh, who revisits the Loveless/Amanda relationship in The Relapse (1696) and refuses to tie up all loose ends (in the style of a 1670s comedy) at the conclusion of both this play and The Provok’d Wife (1697), and these three playwrights influence Farquhar. After The Constant Couple, Farquhar realized that he could experiment in his writing and that not every comedy had to follow the same set of rules. Farquhar also served as source of inspiration for other playwrights who were looking to create comedies that were different yet still entertaining.

The Legacy of The Constant Couple Although The Constant Couple did not have an immediate impact and the play was never directly imitated, playwrights slowly began to borrow elements from Farquhar’s comedy to use in their own plays. The most mimicked character is

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Sir Harry, and Wilks often acted in similar roles. He performed the part of Mr Campley in Steele’s The Funeral (1701) and Captain Clerimont in The Tender Husband (1705). He was also Sir James Courtly (‘An airy Gentleman, given to Gaming’)36 in Centlivre’s The Basset Table (1705) and Sir George Airy in A Busie Body (1709). All of these parts contain elements of Sir Harry’s character – they have returned from abroad, or have a love of fine clothes and women, or have the ability to laugh at themselves and the situations they find themselves in. The Constant Couple also opened the door for playwrights to experiment. As early as the 1700–1 season, new, more experimental plays were performed, including Catharine Trotter’s Love at a Loss (November 1700), Cibber’s Love Makes a Man (December 1700), and Durfey’s The Bath (May 1701). The reception of these plays, however, was not as anticipated; Trotter felt that her play was censured by the audience,37 Cibber’s comedy ‘lagg’d on the Fourth Day’,38 and D’Urfey’s was closed due to inappropriate language, ‘The stopping of it from Acting by Superior command … for taking the Poetical License of making the Mad man in my Scene Satyrically drink a Health, altering it into a modest phrase, (tho somewhat too familiar)’.39 The Constant Couple did, however, spark a change in comedy and, by the first decade of the eighteenth century, humane comedy became increasingly popular. The Constant Couple legacy was most felt by Farquhar himself. In an effort to capitalize on the comedy’s popularity, Farquhar wrote Sir Harry Wildair, which was produced by Drury Lane in April 1701. The title itself alerted the audience to the connection between the two plays – Sir Harry Wildair: Being the Sequel of The Trip to the Jubilee. Farquhar also brought back the audience’s favourite characters: Sir Harry, Angelica, Standard, Lurewell, Clincher, Dicky and Parly (now written as Parley). Many of the original actors played the same roles: Wilks as Sir Harry, Mrs Rogers as Angelica, Mrs Verbruggen as Lurewell, Pinkethman as Clincher, and Norris as Dicky (Mills, who played Vizard in The Constant Couple, played Standard, and Mrs Moor was replaced by Mrs Lucas as Parley). The plot is also similar to The Constant Couple. Lurewell and Sir Harry have reverted back to their coquettish and foppish ways, and through a series of events they are reformed by the end of the play. With so much in common between the two plays, did Sir Harry Wildair enjoy the same success as its predecessor? The answer is no. Although performance records are not complete for this season, we do know that Sir Harry did not come close to having the same run as The Constant Couple. There is evidence, however, that Farquhar did collect at least one benefit and possibly more. William Archer states that there were nine performances,40 and Stonehill makes two claims: that the comedy ran for nine nights and that the run lasted anywhere from nine to thirteen nights.41 Neither author gives any evidence to support their assertions. The London Stage records three performances – 2 May (Friday), 3 May (Saturday), and 28 May (Wednesday)

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– which are based on Lady Morley’s playlist. We cannot be sure exactly how many times during May the play was revived, but the evidence for the 28 May performance indicates that the audience was still interested in seeing Sir Harry Wildair almost a month later, so there may have been performances scattered throughout May and possibly into June. Sir Harry Wildair has been harshly criticized. Stonehill claims that, ‘The original characters were no longer life-like. The entire construction of the play is poor’,42 and Revels History states that, ‘this jumbled extravaganza deservedly failed’.43 Hume finds the play to be ‘altogether weaker … Despite some good ideas and situations, the play is flat and its structure is decidedly weak.’44 Rothstein claims that Sir Harry Wildair ‘succeeded only in boring its audience and its readers … Farquhar took those elements that had amused the public so long and so profitably, and expanded upon them without paying enough attention to the formal development of the play.’45 Rothstein is correct in his assessment of the play. Sir Harry Wildar reads like a sequel; Farquhar looked at what worked the first time and then tried to repeat himself. The result is a play that pales in comparison to the original and suffers from a loosely thrown together plot, underdeveloped characters and extraneous scenes. In Sir Harry Wildair there are several plot lines: • Standard’s realization (with Fireball’s help) that his wife, Lurewell, has slipped back into her coquettish ways, and he is in danger of becoming a cuckold. • Sir Harry, who believes that Angelica is dead, has resumed his foppish ways and goes about town gambling and spending money. • Lurewell and Monsieur Marquis decide to make Sir Harry believe that his wife was having an affair with Marquis. • Angelica, who faked her own death, is following Sir Harry disguised as his younger brother, Beau Banter, and is pretending to be a ghost in an effort to scare Lurewell. These plot lines are loosely connected to each other, and the motivation behind the characters’ behaviour is not always clear. For example, Marquis has a picture of Angelica, and he insinuates to Lurewell that he received the token from Angelica as a sign of her love for him. He then tells Sir Harry that his brother loaned Angelica 10,000 livres to cover her travels, and on her deathbed she was unable to write, so she gave Marquis’s brother the picture as a sign to Sir Harry that she had borrowed money from him. Sir Harry gives Marquis the money he thinks he owes him, and Marquis then gloats to Lurewell, bragging that he made Sir Harry a cuckold and a beggar. At the end of the play Marquis admits that the picture is a copy of the original, and that he paid the painter to make one for him so that he could complete his ultimate plan: ‘An so me have de Picture of

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all the Beauty in London; and by dis Politique me have de Reputation to lie wid dem all –’.46 The pattern of events and the reasons for them are difficult to put together, and we are forced to accept a weak explanation for the Marquis’s behaviour by the end of the play. The characters are underdeveloped, and they lack the rich dialogue that made them appear multidimensional in The Constant Couple. Gone are the delicate scenes between characters where we learn more about them by the way they react to certain situations, for example the Sir Harry/Angelica scene in The Constant Couple. Farquhar does attempt to recreate that entertaining scene when Lurewell tries to tell Sir Harry about his wife’s former indiscretion, but he does not achieve the same results. Lurewell: Hold, hold, Sir; I cannot bear it; Sir Harry, I’m afronted. Sir Harry: Ha, ha, ha. Afronted! Lurewell: Yes, sir: ’tis an afront to any Woman to hear another commended; and I will resent it. – In short, Sir Harry, your Wife was a – Sir Harry: Buz, Madam. – No Detraction. – I’ll tell you what she was. – So much an Angel in her Conduct, that tho’ I saw another in her Arms, I shou’d have thought the devil had rais’d the Phantom, and my more conscious Reason had given my Eyes the Lye. Lurewell: Very well! Then I an’t to be believ’d, it seems. – But, d’ye hear, Sir? Sir Harry: Nay, Madam, do you hear? I tell you ’tis not in the power of Malice to cast a blot upon her Fame; and tho’ the Vanity of our Sex and the Envy of your conspir’d both against her Honour, I wou’d not hear a Syllable. (Stopping his Ears)47

Although there are similarities to The Constant Couple, this scene falls rather flat. What is missing is the witty banter, the playful beating around the bush that heightens our expectation. We are not outraged that Lurewell is making up lies about Angelica, and we are not relieved that Sir Harry does not believe them. These are simply lines that are uttered by the characters, and the dialogue does nothing to further our understanding of or connection to them. One of the reasons that the characters seem flat in comparison to The Constant Couple is because Farquhar relied too much upon his previous effort. He did such a fine job making Sir Harry, Lurewell, Angelica and Standard in The Constant Couple come to life, that he assumed that we already knew the characters and how they thought and acted. Sir Harry Wildair is a play where Farquhar placed the recognizable characters into a slightly different situation just to see what would happen. As a result, there is no character development. Sir Harry is just another fop to someone who has not read or seen The Constant Couple – what is missing are the nuances that made him so different in the first play. Standard is any cuckolded husband. Lurewell is any discontented wife. Dicky is any servant. Farquhar, in an attempt to capitalize quickly on The Constant Cou-

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ple’s success, failed to include the elements that made the play popular in the first place. Sir Harry also suffers from extraneous scenes that interrupt the flow (what little there is) of the play. The most obvious example of this are the scenes that include Clincher. He has become a politician, but the hows and whys surrounding this fact are not included. In his first entrance in the play, he gives Parley a letter to give to Lurewell (which she delivers to Standard instead) that reveals his desire to meet with her. In IV.i (his second appearance onstage) Clincher gets drunk because he is upset over the news of the King of Spain’s death. In IV.ii, he enters Lurewell’s chamber drunk. Standard thinks that he is there to seduce Lurewell, but Sir Harry tells Standard that Clincher was out drinking with him (thus convincing him that Clincher is innocent of any inappropriate behaviour) and the drunken man is whisked off stage, never to return again. These scenes are completely extraneous, and have nothing to do with the forwarding of the action of the play. They are a distraction, and make the plot more confusing. Presumably, Farquhar wrote them just so the character of Clincher (who was the reason why The Constant Couple had the subtitle A Trip to the Jubilee) could be included. During the course of this play we learn nothing more about his character, and his presence detracts from the main plot of the comedy. What did Farquhar learn from his Constant Couple experience? He had a success with that play, but he did not realize why the comedy was successful. He failed to recognize that the audience was drawn to the unique characters and the funny situations that were unlike other plays which were being produced at the same time. As a result he wrote a flat sequel, and he was to flounder for five years before hitting upon another hit with The Recruiting Officer (1706). The one lesson that Farquhar did learn after The Constant Couple was that an audience can be receptive to new and different things. This point is important because throughout the next couple of years Farquhar experiments in his plays – with varying degrees of success. By proving with The Constant Couple that experimentation can be financially rewarding, Farquhar opened the door for other playwrights to try different approaches as well. Cibber, Centlivre and Steele were among the few authors who decided to try to write humane comedy, and who saw their plays garner a positive reception by the audience.

The Impact of The Constant Couple on the 1699–1700 Season The Constant Couple was the biggest success of the 1699–1700 season. Since the play premiered in November, Drury Lane gained an early advantage over Lincoln’s Inn Fields, one that continued throughout the entire season. In an effort to bring in audiences, Lincoln’s Inn Fields launched nine new plays (Drury Lane

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only produced seven) and both companies revived several old plays from their repertory, but none of them was as successful as The Constant Couple. In the battle between the companies, Rich and Betterton tried several different strategies to attract an audience. After Rich’s hit with The Constant Couple, Betterton countered with John Dennis’s Iphigenia in December. Although we do not know exactly how many nights the play ran, a third night is alluded to in The Life of Mr. John Dennis48 and a run of six nights is mentioned in A Comparison Between the Two Stages.49 Overall, however, this tragedy failed to please the audience, and Roscius Anglicanus records that Iphigenia was ‘a good Tragedy and well Acted; but answer’d not to the Expences they were at in Cloathing it’.50 Rich challenged Betterton directly with a different version of the story, and he produced Abel Boyer’s Achilles; or, Iphigenia in Aulis. The outcome, however, was the same. ‘Then comes the second Iphigenia in all her Charms, and like a superior Mistress was resolv’d to eclipse her Rival … She appear’d, but what a pity ’twas (as the Prefacer says) that a Play which had such a glorious run shou’d in four Days disappear, never to rise again.’51 Achilles also suffered from The Constant Couple’s earlier success. The preface to the 1700 edition indicates that the town was still excited about Farquhar’s play and was not ready for a tragedy: Another difficulty this Play Labour’d under, was its being acted at a time when the whole Town was so much, and so justly diverted by the Trip to the Jubilee. A merry Entertainment is certainly very improper to prepare the Tastes of an Audience to relish a grave and solemn Tragedy; for we are naturally angry at those who would make us Weep, when we are in a fit of Laughing.52

The audience greatly enjoyed The Constant Couple, and other plays produced during this season had a hard time competing. At the end of December and the beginning of January, Rich and Betterton both decided to try a different strategy. Since most new plays were not succeeding, they returned to past favourites: Shakespeare and Jonson. A Comparison illustrates this decision by describing the desperate managers praying to the ghosts of the dead writers: Betterton to Shakespeare and Rich to Jonson. Betterton gets down on his knees and says, ‘O Shakespear, Shakespear! … Look down from thy Throne on Mount Parnassus, and take commiseration on thy Sons now fallen into Misery: Let down a Beam of thy brightness upon this our forlorn Theatre; let thy Spirit dwell with us, let thy Influence be upon our Poets’.53 Rich picks up a painting of Jonson and prays, ‘Most mighty Ben! Father of the stage and Parent of the whole dramatick Generation! May it please thy venerable Shade to cast an Eye on the unhappy Circumstances of thy Children.’54 According to The London Stage, however, both Rich and Betterton started with Shakespeare. Cibber’s The Tragical History of King Richard III premiered at Drury Lane in late December and Betterton’s slightly cut version of Shakespeare’s King Henry the Fourth55 was

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revived in early January. Cibber notes in his Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber that his play suffered at the hands of the censor, who eliminated the first act and parts of the other four.56 The result was a play which failed to earn him £5 on the third day.57 While King Henry the Fourth was enjoyed by the audience, (‘The Wits of all qualities have lately entertained themselves with a revived humour of Sir John Falstaff in Henry the Fourth, which had draw all the town, more than any new play that had bin produced of late’)58 the play did not receive the same kind of response as The Constant Couple. However, he decided to continue with Shakespeare, and in February he produced Measure for Measure with the Henry Purcell opera Dido and Aeneas divided into four ‘entertainments’ and inserted between the acts.59 The first entertainment is at the end of act I, and the second occurs in the middle of Act II. The third is at the end of Act III, with the fourth at the end of the play.60 During February both theatres tried new plays and returned to old favourites. During Lent, Betterton took a chance with Francis Manning’s The Generous Choice (a play in the revived Spanish romance mode), which failed, while Rich gambled and lost with John Oldmixon’s pastoral opera The Grove; or, Love’s Paradice. In February Betterton revived Congreve’s The Mourning Bride, and Rich revived Otway’s Venice Preserv’d and Vanbrugh’s The Relapse. March was supposed to be a big month for Betterton’s company, as Congreve’s The Way of the World was expected to be Lincoln’s Inn Fields’s answer to The Constant Couple. Unfortunately, this failed to happen. Roscius Anglicanus notes ‘The Way of the World, a Comedy wrote by Mr. Congreve, twas curiously Acted; Madam Bracegirdle performing her Part so exactly and just, gain’d the Applause of Court and City; but being too Keen a Satyr, had not the Success the Company Expected’.61 This disappointment did not keep Betterton’s company from producing another new play in March, The Beau Defeated; or The Lucky Younger Brother (originally attributed to Mary Pix, the author is now considered to be unknown). Despite having a humane comedy ending, the play did not run for many nights. Rich also failed with William Burnaby’s new play The Reform’d Wife, so he returned to the repertory and revived Motteux’s The Island Princess (originally produced in February 1699), which was already a favourite. From April until the end of the season, both companies relied mainly upon repertory pieces. In an effort to capitalize on the talents of established authors, Rich made a deal with Dryden. The playwright wrote a new piece, The Secular Masque, which was added to Fletcher’s The Pilgrim. In return, Rich agreed to give Dryden a third night benefit. Dryden died the day of the third performance, and his son received the benefit instead.62 The other repertory plays produced during the rest of the season included Jonson’s Volpone, Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Betterton’s and Purcell’s opera The Prophetess, Lee’s Sophonisba (all by Rich’s company), and D’Urfey’s Don Quixote (by Betterton’s company).

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Two more new plays were produced before the season was over. Southerne’s The Fate of Capua appeared at Lincoln’s Inn Fields in April, and David Craufurd’s Courtship a-la-Mode was finally produced at Drury Lane in July after Betterton’s company failed to bring it to the stage. Craufurd notes in his preface that the play went unrehearsed for six weeks and that Lincoln’s Inn Fields did not have enough actors to fill all of the roles. Craufurd finally pulled the play, offered it to Drury Lane, and Courtship premiered twenty days later. A Comparison notes, ‘[I]t was enter’d into the New-House, at the Recommendation of a certain Scotch Lord, and sojourning there six Months to no purpose, it travell’d afterwards to the Old-House, where it was with much ado Acted’.63 Courtship was the last new play of the season. After all the receipts were counted, Lincoln’s Inn Fields was barely scraping by, and Drury Lane was faring only slightly better because of their lucky hit with The Constant Couple early in the season. After reviewing the season, can we make any statement about the immediate impact and influence of The Constant Couple? Not surprisingly, Farquhar’s second play seems to have no significant influence on the comedy produced that year. There were a few plays, like Burnaby’s The Reform’d Wife, the anonymous The Beau Defeated and Craufurd’s Courtship a-la-Mode which deviated slightly from old formulas, but none of them worked, and they were probably modelled on Farquhar’s influences, Cibber and Vanbrugh, rather than on Farquhar himself. Rich did revive The Relapse and stage Cibber’s adaptation of Richard III, but this was a decision based on the popularity of their plays and Rich’s desire to make more money during the 1699–1700 season, not due to his recognizing that Vanbrugh and Cibber were writing/capable of writing a new form of comedy. The playwrights who had new plays produced during this season had probably already written their plays or at least had started writing by the time The Constant Couple was performed. The 1699–1700 season is too soon to see how The Constant Couple influenced the comedy. After reviewing the entire season, no particular sense of direction emerges, except for the return to the classics. The impact of The Constant Couple did not come until later, after other playwrights had a chance to see and/or read Farquhar’s play and understand that he was doing something which enticed the audience.

3 EXPERIMENTATION AT THE TURN OF THE CENTURY

The years 1700 to 1705 saw an explosion of humane comedy. Freed from the old rules by Farquhar, playwrights like Steele and Centlivre also experimented with new characters, situations and endings. During the seasons 1701–2 to 1704–5 Cibber had two new plays produced, Steele had three, and Centlivre had four, indicating that management and audiences were at least receptive to experimentation. Farquhar tried his hand at an adaptation with The Inconstant (February 1702) and continued to develop his own brand of humane comedy with The Twin-Rivals (December 1702).

The 1701–2 Season: Steele’s The Funeral, Centlivre’s The Beau’s Duel, Farquhar’s The Inconstant Early in this season, Richard Steele had his first play produced. The Funeral opened in December, shortly after Rich unexpectedly paid his actors extras for their services (often the actors had to pressure Rich in order to be paid at all). The comedy had ‘more than expected Success’.1 Since records for this season are scarce, we do not know how many nights the play was performed during the initial run; however, we do know that The Funeral entered into the repertory. From 1703 – the year The Daily Courant began running increasingly regular advertisements of play productions at Drury Lane (regular advertisements for Lincoln’s Inn Fields did not appear until 1705) – until 1776, there is a record of 171 performances of The Funeral, 52 of which were benefits.2 In The Funeral, Steele begins his own form of experimentation, and while not all critics view his attempt as successful, many recognize that what Steele is doing is new and innovative. A Comparison gives a detailed critique of the play and states that Steele ‘seems a good judge of Comedy; that he has touch’d some things very justly, that his Vices are new, and his Characters not ill drawn’.3 However, the critics in Comparison are not entirely satisfied with the play and note many of the problems. They discuss the plot: – 43 –

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708 Sull. Now that which seems incredible, is, that a man of any Rank or Relations, should lye dead so long, and no body see him; that neither his Wife (whose desire of his Death required as full assurances as ’twas possible to get) shou’d not gratifie her cruel Curiosity in viewing him, and confirming her Security; that neither of the Orphan Sisters, who liv’d in the Family, and who were well affected to him, shou’d be desirous to look on him … Crit. ’Tis so; but I will tell you what is stranger; and that is, that immediately upon his Death, and all the while the Corps is supposed to lye in the House, the several Intrigues of the Play are carry’d on.4

They discuss Steele’s characterization. ‘As I told you, the Lord Hardy, who was the Deceased’s Son … even he too instead of lamenting his Father’s suddain death, (tho’ he had reason enough, for he was to fall into worse Hands) never shews the least concern.’5 They also discuss Steele’s use of language. ‘I think it altogether improper for a Comedy … It may be my single Opinion, but it seems to me too concise and stiff.’6 With all of this negative criticism, what was so appealing about this play? Why did The Funeral enter into the repertory and enjoy success? The Funeral sends some very sharp messages. The play exposes the dangers of hypocrisy in the character of Lady Brumpton, and mocks undertakers and lawyers in the characters of Sable and Puzzle. Lady Brumpton is very happy with the news that her husband has died. With her feminine charm, Lady Brumpton was able to convince Lord Brumpton before he died to disinherit Lord Hardy, his son from another marriage. With all of her late husband’s money at her disposal, Lady Brumpton plans to live the life of a rich widow. Unbeknownst to her, Lord Brumpton is still alive, having faked his death on the advice of his servant Trusty, in an attempt to learn who his real friends are and whether his family really cares for him. Lady Brumpton is a symbol of hypocrisy. She even admits that there is a great disparity between the way she acts in public and the way she truly feels. ‘I can’t bear her [Lady Worthy’s] Company she has so much of that Virtue in her heart, which I have in my mouth only.’7 She pretends to mourn the loss of her husband, but she does so only to maintain a respectable public persona. ‘I’ve now an Exquisite pleasure in the Thought of surpassing my Lady Sly, who pretend to have Outgriev’d the whole Town for her Husband – They are certainly coming – Oh no! here let me – Thus let me sit and Think – wretched disconsolate as I am!’8 At the end of the play her hypocrisy is exposed when she realizes that Lord Brumpton is alive. Lady Brumpton is also revealed as a bigamist, having married Cabinet a year before. In the character of Lady Brumpton, Steele is making a comment about the dangers of hypocrisy and is ridiculing those who pretend to be good and caring people to the public while holding a different belief in their hearts.

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Steele also pokes fun at certain professions in The Funeral. He mocks undertakers and lawyers by characterizing them as sneaky people who stoop to doing underhanded things in an attempt to make a profit. Sable, the undertaker, makes deals with apothecaries in an effort to gain more business: Sable. And you Mr. Blockhead I warrant you have not call’d at Mr. Pestles the Apothecary: Will that fellow never pay me? I stand Bound for all the Poison in that starving Murderers shop: He serves me Just as Dr. Quibus did, who promis’d to write a Treatise again Water-gruel, a Damn’d Healthy slop, that has done Me more Injury than all the Faculty.9

Sable also creates what he believes to be the proper atmosphere at a funeral by hiring sad looking ‘mourners’ to stand by the corpse or by positioning ‘virgins’ dressed in white to attend to the body of a ‘maid’ who died in childbirth. In the character of Sable, Steele satirizes undertakers by portraying them as underhanded, sneaky, money hungry people. Steele does the same thing with lawyers. The lawyer in The Funeral is Puzzle, and he is appropriately named because the documents he writes are full of so much jargon that they are indecipherable to the average person. By writing in this manner, Puzzle is able to cheat people out of their money. He instructs his nephew, Clerk, on how the business is run: ‘… we Cheat in no Language at all, but Loll in our own Coaches, Eloquent in Gibberish, and Learned in Juggle’.10 In an amusing exchange (I.ii) Clerk reads Lord Brumpton’s will aloud, which is full of repetitive synonyms. He is then chastised by Puzzle for reading in a manner that would allow him to be understood. ‘Hold hold good Tom; you do come on indeed in Business, but don’t use your Nose enough in Reading – Why you’re quite out – you Read to be Understood – let me see it – I the said Earl (Reads in a Ridiculous Law-Tone, till out of breath).’11 By exposing the underhanded behaviour exhibited by Sable and Puzzle, Steele is mocking the undertaker and lawyer professions. This satire, combined with his portrayal of hypocrisy in the character of Lady Brumpton, makes The Funeral a comedy with a message for the audience. One of the ways a play can relay a message to the audience is through casting. How a play is cast can influence how the audience views the characters, situations and meaning. The actors chosen for the roles in The Funeral were fairly predictable. The role of Lady Brumpton was played by Susanna Verbruggen – a fitting choice as Verbruggen had recently played Lurewell in both The Constant Couple and Sir Harry Wildair. Lady Sharlot and Harriot were also cast appropriately. The young Anne Oldfield (who was around eighteen years old at this time) played Lady Sharlot, and Jane Rogers, who graced the stage as the virtuous Angelica in The Constant Couple, was Lady Harriot. The thirty-year-old Cibber played the role of Lord Hardy, and Wilks played Campley. John Mills, who had established himself as an actor of secondary roles, was Trusty, and Tobias Tomas,

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an actor about whom we know very little, was Lord Brumpton. Other minor roles went to Benjamin Johnson and William Bowen as Sable and Puzzle, and Jane Lucas and Mary Kent as Mademoiselle D’Epingle and Tattleaid. For comic effect, Henry Norris and William Bullock dressed up like women for the roles of Mrs Fardingale and Kate Matchlock. With these actors in these roles, the audience would have been understood Steele’s anti-hypocrisy, anti-lawyer, antiundertaker message. Since the majority of the actors had played similar parts in the past, the audience easily believed the characters (Verbuggen tricked men in another play, so of course she will attempt trickery in this one) making The Funeral a more effective comedy. While the play does have flaws, Steele is experimenting with comedic models, making the play an example of humane comedy. He borrows elements from 1670s comedies and applies them to different situations. For example, the concept of a parent refusing to allow a daughter to marry the man she loves because the man is considered to be an unsuitable match is very common in late seventeenth-century drama. In The Funeral, however, instead of the father standing in the way of the young couple’s love, that role falls to Lady Brumpton, who is adamantly against Lady Sharlot and Lord Hardy’s relationship. In The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century, Hume recognizes Steele’s attempt to create a new form of comedy. ‘Steele is experimenting, applying new techniques and meanings to old materials.’12 The Funeral also combines a wide variety of comedic elements in the plot. The Funeral is not just lighthearted comedy, just a farce, or just a romance – it is all of those things. The eighteenthcentury audience was aware of the play’s enigmatic nature, and the critics in Comparison comment upon the different reactions to The Funeral. They realize that although the play has flaws, many in the audience enjoyed it. ‘I am directly of Opinion, that the Town is sometimes the worst Judge in the World; ’tis like the monster Polyphemus with one Eye, that sees every this imperfectly: If this is not so, I wonder how it cou’d applaud a Play with so many Deformities.’13 They go on to enumerate what some of the problems are in The Funeral. The critics in Comparison believe that one of the ‘deformities’ is the inability to categorize the play as one type or another. One critic states, ‘that notwithstanding some Beauties in it, this is not a just Comedy’,14 while another believes that the inconsistencies in the play, ‘reduces this so celebrated Comedy to the indignity of the vilest Farce’.15 Modern scholars also comment upon the multifarious nature of The Funeral. Calhoun Winton, in Captain Steele, argues that ‘The Funeral is hardly a satire on anything. There are satirical touched on marital duplicity, on gossips, on hypocritical mourners, but the play is a thoroughly good-humoured comedy’.16 Hume states that ‘Steele’s The Funeral mingles a light romance story with a strictly exemplary one, harshly satirizes some scoundrels, and dissolves a dreadful marriage on the grounds of bigamy’.17 John Harrington

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Smith, in The Gay Couple in Restoration Comedy, believes that Steele was one of the first playwrights to promote the notion of benevolence in his plays. ‘He [Steele] had preached benevolence in The Christian Hero; now he gave it full presentation in The Funeral, 1701: Campley, who so delicately relieves his friend’s financial distress, and old Trusty, so faithfully devoted to the interests of his master and his master’s son, are plainly meant to illustrate it, and (for purposes of contrast) Lady Brumpton is a study in fashionable selfishness.’18 Whether the play is mostly farce with a little bit of romance, a flawed light-hearted comedy with a brief commentary on hypocrisy, or a demonstration of benevolence is debatable. What can be said, however, is that Steele was experimenting with different forms of comedy. This experimentation would eventually lead to The Lying Lover (December 1703), the play that many critics used to hail as the first ‘sentimental comedy’. Later in the season, Lincoln’s Inn Fields produced Centlivre’s The Beau’s Duel in June 1702. Once again, because of the lack of records we do not know exactly how many performances the comedy had, but by all indications The Beau’s Duel was a failure that season and was performed only three more times in the eighteenth century – 21 October 1702, 21 January 1782, and 11 April 1785.19 Her first comedy and second play, The Beau’s Duel did worse than her tragedy The Perjur’d Husband, which opened the previous season in October 1700. According to the preface, ‘It [The Perjur’d Husband] went off with general Applause; and ’tis the opinion of some of our best Judges, that it only wanted the Addition of good Actors, and full Town, to have brought me a sixth night’.20 The Beau’s Duel was Centlivre’s first attempt at writing comedy, and this play would set the ground work for her to write better and more popular comedies like The Gamester (February 1705) and The Basset-Table (November 1705). One possible reason for The Beau’s Duel failure is that the play uses many of the same plot devices and characters as the comedy of the 1670s and 1680s. Like Farquhar and Love and a Bottle, Centlivre also relied upon old conventions for her first comedy. With audiences experiencing new and innovative characters like Sir Harry, or different types of blocking figures like Lady Brumpton, a return to the common marriage plot with the father standing between his daughter and the man she wants to marry would have seemed outdated. The Beau’s Duel contains many elements similar to earlier comedies. The characters are fairly standard: the hero and his friend, Col. Manly and Capt. Bellmein; the heroine and her friend, Clarinda and Emilia; the father, Careful; the fop he wants his daughter to marry, Sir William Mode; and a few minor characters. The plot is predictable. Careful wants Clarinda to marry Sir William, but she wants to marry Col. Manly. After a few acts that include mistaken identities, funny scenes revolving around Sir William, and crossdressing on the part of Clarinda and Emilia, the two women end up married to the hero and his friend with the father’s blessing. The humorous

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scenes are also typical of 1670s and 1680s comedy. Sir William repeatedly demonstrates how ridiculous and unmanly he is through both what he says and what he does. He is also joined by Ogle, who believes that Clarinda is in love with him even though they have never met. In a very funny scene Sir William and Ogle challenge each other to a duel, but instead of using swords (which could inflict pain on either one of them), they decide to use files. Sir William: Here a Weapon, Mr. Ogle will decide the Quarrel as well as e’re a Sharp in Christendom, and without danger. Ogle: An Admirable Contrivance Sir William, for now they’ll hear of a Duel, and we reckon’d such skillful Artists, that neither cou’d o’recome. Sir William: Right, I think a Gentleman ought to wear a Sharp for a terror to the Vulgar, and because ’tis the Fashion; but he shou’d never use it but as an Ornament, and part of his Dress, I hope to see it as much a Fashion to Fight with Files, as ’tis to Fence with them. If I was a Member of Parliament, I’de bring in a Bill against Duelling, I’m sure the Clause would pass, for there’s a Majority in the House of my Constitution. Come approach, Sa, fa.21

Another humorous scene comes at the end of the play, when Careful is duped into marrying Mrs Plotwell, who he thinks is a Quaker. After their marriage, she reveals that her Quaker costume was just a ruse, and she begins to make plans to spend Careful’s money. ‘I only made use of that Disguise to catch you in, but you have Money enough to equip me after the Fashion, and that was the only Motive of my Sanctity.’22 Careful begs Bellmein to find a way to undo his marriage, which Bellmein agrees to do if Careful will bestow his blessing (and a portion of his fortune) onto Clarinda and Manly. Of course Bellmein reveals that the marriage was never legal in the first place (the Parson was actually Bellmein in disguise), and everyone is pleased in the end with the situation. The casting of The Beau’s Duel contained a mix of experienced and inexperienced actors, which may have contributed to the lukewarm reception of the play. John Corey (spelled ‘Cory’ in the original cast list) played Col. Manly. Corey was a relative newcomer to the stage, and his first performance was as Faithless in The Gentleman Cully the previous season. Barton Booth, who played Capt. Bellmein, was a veteran and was frequently cast in secondary but important parts, and Sir William Mode was played by John Bowman, who was known for doing foppish roles. George Pack was an actor/singer and in addition to performing as Ogle, he also sang a ‘Whimsical Song’ in The Beau’s Duel. Mrs Prince, another actor/singer about whom we do not have a lot of information, was Clarinda. Toper was played by George Powel, who had joined Lincoln’s Inn Fields after a few years at Drury Lane, where his previous roles included Standard in The Constant Couple. Emilia was played by Mary Porter, and this casting was probably a wrong decision. Porter was described as not being very attractive, nor did she have a good voice. In fact, her voice was considered to be harsh and unpleas-

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ing, which would not have suited the character of the faithful, virtuous Emilia. The cast was rounded out by William Fieldhouse as Careful and Mrs Lee as Mrs Plotwell. The fate of The Beau’s Duel is best understood as an example of how inappropriate casting can negatively impact an audience. If the audience did not believe the actors in the roles they were playing, they would have difficulty accepting the comedy, and would not have attended the performances of The Beau’s Duel. Inappropriate casting aside, The Beau’s Duel is an amusing play. The characters are well written, the plot is clear and easy to follow, and the ending is satisfying. John Wilson Bowyer, in The Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, argues, ‘Except that the various plots are never completely integrated, The Beau’s Duel is an acceptable comedy, with realistic comments upon contemporary London life and allusions to popular topics like the prognostications of the astrologers and philomaths. The character of Mrs Plotwell is well done, and the use of her to unify the action, though not completely satisfactory, shows a genuine dramatic sense.’23 Bowyer believes that in The Beau’s Duel Centlivre does something new in emphasizing ‘men and women of sense’. Bowyer lists several criteria for this new type of character: Both a man and a woman of sense are capable of frankness, truth-telling, and genuine affection. The woman of sense is unlike her Restoration predecessor in that she does not make herself difficult and does not take pride in being pursued. In fact, she is as much the pursuer as the man, but only to learn whether her servant really loves her or to escape a second man who is being forced upon her against her will. She admits that she is in love and that she would like to be married, and she believes that no man of sense would take advantage of a virtuous woman. Men and women of sense would not think of marrying for money or for making love without feeling it regardless of the stakes … Like the man of sense, the sensible woman is generous, courageous, judicious, and constant in love. She is capable of making her own decisions, and she regards love far more highly than obedience to her parents, a view very disagreeable to the moralists of the time.24

While Bowyer’s observations about The Beau’s Duel may be correct, Centlivre not was the first author to give these attributes to her characters. ‘Men and women of sense’ are evident as far back as Wycherley’s The Gentleman Dancing-Master (1671) where Hippolita goes against her father’s desire for her to marry Monsieur De Paris because of her love for Gerard. In Etherege’s The Man of Mode (1676), Young Bellair risks his fortune for the woman he loves, and marries Emilia despite the fact that his father threatens to disinherit him if he marries anyone other than Harriet. The same ‘men and women of sense’ are evident in Behn’s The Rover (1677). Florida’s love for Belvile is constant and true, and she marries him despite her father promising her to another man. While Bowyer’s observations of the characters in The Beau’s Duel are accurate, Centlivre essen-

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tially wrote a comedy that had more in common with the plays of the 1670s and 1680s than the humane comedy that was being written by her contemporaries. As a result, The Beau’s Duel failed to bring in an audience. For his next play, Farquhar decided to write an adaptation. The Inconstant, which opened some time in early February, is based on Fletcher’s comedy The Wild-goose Chase (1622), and there was some contemporary debate about the degree to which Farquhar’s work is different from the original. In Comparison the critics discuss the differences between the two plays. Sull. I have not heard the Name, but am told its intirely Fletcher’s. Ramb. ’Tis a sign his Muse is at an ebb; but if he alters it, ’tis a Thousand to One, he spoils it. Which of Fletcher’s pray? Sull. The wild Goose Chace. Ramb. But why that? I have seen it Acted with good Applause, and needed no Alteration. Sull. No matter for that; he vamps it up, and with some wretched Interpolations of his own, passes it for New, but I’ll undertake to make out his from Fletcher’s, as evidently as I can perceive the River Dee runs thro’ the great Lake in Wales.25

Farquhar felt the need to answer these accusations in his prologue. ‘I shall only say, that I took the hint from Fletcher’s Wild Goose Chase; and to those way, that I have spoyl’d the Original, I wish no other injury, but that they wou’d say it again’.26 The play is different from the original. The Inconstant focuses more directly on Oriana’s attempts to change Mirabel’s negative attitude towards marriage. Farquhar reduced the number of characters from twelve to eight and added a different fifth act. Although similar to The Wild-goose Chase, The Inconstant is decidedly Farquhar, and he can no more be accused of plagiarism than any of his contemporaries.27 Exactly how successful The Inconstant was is unclear. Farquhar states in his preface that the play ran six nights and would have attracted more of an audience if not for a very popular French dancer (Mme Subligny) performing at the same time at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. ‘What can be a greater Compliment to our generous Nation, than to have the Lady upon her retour to Paris, boast of their splendid entertainment in England, that thronged her House so full, that she had not room to stick a Pin.’28 The theatres were forced to close on 8 March due to the death of King William, further hindering the performance run. Farquhar states that The Inconstant was scheduled to continue after the theatres reopened on 23 April, but there is no evidence that the play was performed at any time during the remainder of that season. Was The Inconstant a success? By all indications, Farquhar was satisfied with the number of performances (he received two benefits), and he also felt that Wilks shone in the role of Mirabel. Hume also considers The Inconstant to be a success in the 1701–2 season,29 but The Revels History does not: ‘The Inconstant (1702), his adaptation of Fletcher’s The Wild

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Goose Chase, was initially a failure, though it recovered (too late to profit Farquhar) to be a stock piece for many years’.30 Throughout the rest of the century, the popularity of The Inconstant rose and fell, partially as a result of the popularity of actors in particular roles. Young Mirabel became a favourite of actors, as did the role of Duretete, which was played by Garrick later in the century. As a result, the stage history of The Inconstant is as follows: twenty-five performances from 1729 to 1739, but only seven performances from 1739 to 1749, and back up again to thirty-one performances from 1749 to 1759. This indicates that while The Inconstant did remain in the repertory, the comedy’s popularity depended more upon the actors playing the roles rather than the text itself. Farquhar’s decision to write an adaptation at this point in his career is a curious one, and there are no details about the history behind the composition of this comedy. Perhaps he desired to attempt something different after the failure of his last full-length comedy. Adaptations were very common on the early eighteenth-century stage, so maybe Farquhar wanted to try his hand at writing one. Regardless of the reason why, the result is a fun, entertaining play with quick dialogue and humorous scenes. Hume believes ‘With its dashing hero, traps, disguises, love game, and witty heroine in breeches, The Inconstant is a fine play which deserved more success than it initially met’.31 The comedy focuses upon the relationship between Mirabel and Oriana. Mirabel has just returned from abroad and is reminded by Oriana of their contract to marry. Although Mirabel does love her, he hates the idea of marriage, and therefore refuses to complete the agreement. The majority of the play explores Oriana’s several attempts to get Mirabel to marry her: she pretends to be engaged to a Spanish lord (Old Mirabel in disguise), she pretends to be a nun, and she pretends to be mad. None of these devices work, and they are all foiled in some way (Mirabel always ends up learning the truth). Finally, Oriana dresses up like a boy and claims to be a page sent by his uncle. She saves Mirabel from the thieving Lamorce and her ruffians and reveals her true identity, after which Mirabel finally agrees to marry her. Since Farquhar was developing a habit of writing roles for particular actors, the casting of The Inconstant is to be expected. Wilks returned as the lead, Mirabel. Pinkethman, who tended to have good roles in Farquhar’s plays, played Old Mirabel. Bullock and Mills were cast as Duretete and Dugard, with the major female parts, Oriana and Bisarre, predictably played by Rogers and Verbuggen. Norris continued to make a career playing servants, this time as Petit, and Mary Kent was given the role of the contriving Lamorce, which was more substantial and interesting than her previous role as Steele’s Tattleaid. What is striking about The Inconstant is Farquhar’s use of dialogue. The quick-witted, humorous repartee that he created for his characters in Love and a Bottle and The Constant Couple is further developed in The Inconstant. The dialogue is what distinguishes Farquhar’s version from Fletcher’s and makes the

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play his own. One good example of Farquhar’s talent with language is during the scene where Mirabel and Oriana fight over the marriage contract (II.i). They attempt to one-up each other when describing how miserable they plan on making their marriage: Mirabel. Your face-mending Toylet shall fly out of the Window. Oriana. And your face-mending Perriwig shall fly after it. Mirabel. I’ll tear the Fourbelow off your Cloaths, and when you swoon for vexation, you shan’t have a penny to buy a Bottle of Harts-horn. Oriana. And you, Sir, shall have Harts-horn in abundance. Mirabel. I’ll keep as many mistresses as I have Coach-horses. Oriana. And I’ll keep as many Gallants as you have Grooms. Mirabel. I’ll lye with your Woman before your face. Oriana. Have a care of your Valet behind your back. Mirabel. But, sweet Madam, there is such as thing as a Divorce. Oriana. But, sweet Sir, there is such a thing as Alimony, so Divorce on, and spare not. Exit32

These are just the few last lines of a longer exchange between the two characters that escalates with each word and finally culminates in Oriana storming off stage. As indicated by this scene, Farquhar’s mastery of the language has improved from his earlier comedies, as he creates a situation that is funny and playful, and one that helps to convey to the audience that these are strong, witty, and intelligent characters. Farquhar also marks The Inconstant as his own (and different from The Wildgoose Chase) by slight changes in the plot and by adding a fifth act. Fletcher’s version includes other plot lines besides the Oriana/Mirabel conflict. Fletcher introduces the character of Lugier, a tutor, who tries to find husbands for Rosalura and Lillia-Bianca (who are partially combined into one character, Bisarre, in The Inconstant). So in conjunction with the Oriana/Mirabel courtship, The Wild-goose Chase also includes the coupling of Rosalura and Belleur and LilliaBianca and Pinac (both men are partially combined into Duretete in Farquhar’s version). Instead of following six characters, Farquhar focuses on one pair, and as a result, he is able to further develop Mirabel and Oriana’s relationship. One major difference in the character of Mirabel should also be noted. Fletcher’s Mirabel is a man with a more negative reputation (he is the ‘wild-goose’ or flighty/foolish person) and he takes pleasure in ruining women. Rosalura. ’Bless your manhood. They say ye are a gentleman of action, A fair, accomplished man, and a rare engineer. You have a trick to blow up maindenheads, A subtle trick, they say abroad. Mirabel. I have, lady. Rosalura. And often glory in their ruins.

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Mirabel. Yes, forsooth. I have a speedy trick, please you to try it, My engine will dispatch ye instantly.33

Fletcher’s Mirabel speaks harshly to the women in the play, and he is disrespectful to DeGard (he tells DeGard that Oriana is upset because he will not ravish her). Farquhar’s Mirabel is more playful. He seems to gain pleasure from engaging Oriana in witty repartee, and he is not portrayed as a predator of women. The overall tone of Farquhar’s play is lighter, as Mirabel stumbles through Oriana’s repeated attempts to trick him into marrying her. Oriana’s last bit of trickery, disguising herself as a page, is original to Farquhar’s version, as are all of the events in the fifth act. During the fifth act, Mirabel encounters Lamorce and her band of ruffians, who rob him and plan to kill him and are only foiled at the last minute by Oriana’s and Duretete’s charge to the rescue. Wilks is said to have preformed brilliantly in the role of Mirabel, and he especially shone in the fifth act. Farquhar notes in his preface, ‘There is a Gentleman of the first Understanding, and a very good Critick, who said of Mr Wilks, that in this part he out-acted himself, and all men that he ever saw. I wou’d not rob Mr Wilks, by a worse expression of mine, of a Compliment that he so much deserves’.34 Farquhar uses dialogue in the fifth act to further develop his character of Mirabel. Mirabel tries to maintain an air of dignity, even while he is being robbed: Lamorce. Ha, ha, ha, Sir, you have got the prettiest Ring upon your finger there Mirabel. Ah Madam, ’tis at your service with all my heart. (Offering the ring.) Lamorce. By no means Sir, a family Ring! (Takes it.) Mirabel. No matter Madam, Seven hundred pound, by this light. (Aside.) Second Bravo. Pray Sir, what’s a Clock? Mirabel. Hum! Sir I forgot my Watch at home. Second Bravo. I thought I saw the string of it just now. Mirabel. Ods my life, Sir, I beg your pardon, here it is – but it don’t go. (Putting it up.) Lamorce. O dear Sir, and English Watch! Tompions I presume. Mirabel. Do’e like it Madam - no Ceremony - ’tis at your service with all my heart and soul - Tompions! hang ye. (Aside.)35

In this humorous scene, the character of Mirabel is more fully developed. He is not only foolish in refusing to marry Oriana (even though he loves her), but he is also foolish for following a strange woman home in the hopes that he would be able to seduce her. Farquhar is still able, however, to make Mirabel a sympathetic character. No real harm befalls him, and the audience does not want him to be harmed. Instead, he learns to be more careful with his personal safety, and he realizes that he really does want to marry Oriana. While the actual number of performances of The Inconstant is not clear, there are indications that audi-

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ence enjoyed watching the actors in their roles. The Inconstant was Farquhar’s only adaptation, and the next season, Farquhar would return to writing original comedy, experimenting once again with The Twin-Rivals.

The 1702–3 Season: Cibber’s She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not, Farquhar’s The Twin Rivals, and Centlivre’s The Heiress and Love’s Contrivance Cibber’s She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not premiered at Drury Lane in November 1702. We do not know how many nights the play ran, but the initial run of the comedy was a failure. Although the play did reach a sixth night, the audience was so small that the company could not make the house charges. However, She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not was successfully revived in 1714 and became very popular.36 Cibber states in his preface to Ximena, ‘The Kind Imposter did not pay the Charges on the Sixth Day, though it has since brought me, as a Sharer, more than I was then disappointed of as Author’.37 She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not continued to be played by both companies throughout the rest of the eighteenth century and into the mid-nineteenth century, making the play one of the most frequently performed and longest performed eighteenth-century comedies. On the surface, She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not follows a standard formula – Rosara wants to marry Octavio, but her father (the blocking figure), Don Manuel wants her to marry Don Philip. However, what is ‘new’ about this comedy is the figure of Hypolita and what she does to move the action forward in this play. Hypolita is a breeches role, but she is more than just a woman in pants onstage for the pleasure of the men in the audience. Hypolita does not just dress like a man, she becomes one, and subsequently achieves power and influence over the other characters in the play. She is in control and manipulates the action, and therefore she is unlike other female characters who don breeches in other plays. What is striking about Hypolita is that when she first appears onstage in the first scene of Act I, she is dressed like a man and maintains this appearance throughout the entire play. Although her true identity is revealed at the end, she is never seen in women’s clothing. In other breeches roles, the women are usually seen dressed as women at the beginning of the play and at the end, with the disguise taking place somewhere in the middle. Hypolita, however, never changes out of her breeches. She also becomes a man – she takes on the identity of Don Philip and vigorously pursues, woos and marries Rosara. In previous plays women have dressed like men so that they can freely roam the streets, follow their loves, or even become a servant to a gentleman. Hypolita, however, takes advantage of her position as a man and enters into the courtship game. Hypolita is intelligent and comes up with a plan that will help her to achieve her goal, ‘By the help of the Portmantue I intend to marry my self to Don Philip’s new Mistress, and then

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– I’ll pull off my Breeches and marry him’.38 She presents herself to Don Manuel as Don Philip and succeeds in fooling him. She boldly woos Rosara and even calls herself ‘a Man of Sense’.39 Hypolita is also clever enough to get out of situations where her identity might be revealed or her plan might unravel. When confronted by Don Philip and threatened with his sword, the quick-thinking Hypolita plays the lovesick suitor. Hyp. But yet so subtle is the Flame of Love, spight of her Cruelty, I nourish’d still a secret living Hope, till hearing, Sir, at last she was design’d your Bride, Despair compell’d me to this bold Attempt of personating you: Her Father knew not me, or my unhappy Love; I knew you too ne’er had seen her Face, and therefore hop’d, when I should offer to repair with twice the Worth the Value, Sir, I robb’d you of, begging thus low for your Forgiveness; I say, I hop’d at least your generous Heart, if ever it was touch’d like mine, would pity by Distress, and pardon the necessitated Wrong. D.Ph. Is’t possible; Hast thou then lov’d to this unfortunate degree? Hyp. Unfortunate indeed, if you are still my Rival, Sir: But were you not, I’m sure you’d pity me. D. Ph. Nay, then I must forgive thee [raising her.] For I have known too well the Misery not to Pity - any thing in Love.40

Instead of revealing her identity, Hypolita is clever enough to talk her way out of this situation and avoid duelling with Don Philip, allowing her to maintain her disguise until the end. In the final scene of the play, Hypolita lets everyone know who she really is. By this time she has stolen Don Philip’s portmantue, taken his identity, hired Trappanti as her servant, fooled Don Manuel, avoided duels, and wooed and married Rosara. When Don Manuel realizes that she is really a woman, he says, ‘Have I then been pleas’d, and plague’d, and frighted out of my Wits by a Woman all this while? Odsbud, she is a notable Contriver! Stand clear ho! For if I have not a fair brush at her Lips; nay, if she does not give me the hearty smack too, Ods-Winds and Thunder, she is not the Good humour’d Girl I take her for.’41 From the very beginning, Hypolita is in complete control of the action in the play. Hypolita is much more than a woman in breeches, she acts with deliberate power, authority and intelligence, and she is a new character to grace the stage. Premiering the month after She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not, The Twin-Rivals opened in Drury Lane on 14 December 1702. The success of Steele’s The Funeral the previous season may have inspired Farquhar to try once again to write something different from his other comedies. As a play, The Twin-Rivals is unique and entertaining – a mix of humour and satire with truly villainous characters and a satisfactory ending. Unfortunately, the audience did not respond to Farquhar’s experimentation. In the preface Farquhar states, ‘There was an Odium cast upon this Play before it appear’d, by some Persons who thought it their Interest to

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have it suppress’d. The Ladies were frighted from seeing it by formidable Stories of a Midwife, and were told no doubt, that they must expect no less than a Labour upon the Stage.’42 Farquhar continues in the preface to enumerate other problems the critics had with the play – 1. Clelia should have made an appearance. 2. The vices displayed in The Twin-Rivals were too great to be punished properly in a comedy. They were so bad that they had exceeded the convention. 3. Elder Woud’be should not have pretended to be mad during his confinement at the end of the play. Farquhar gives sufficient answers to each of these critiques in the preface, but unfortunately the initial run of The Twin-Rivals was a failure. Farquhar’s comments in his preface suggests that he was disappointed with the reception of the play, and Stonehill states, ‘At the very outset it met with but little success, for the author made the mistake of attacking the most admired vice, and choosing for his villain such a character as Benjamin Would be, who should have been a hero, like Horner in The Country Wife, and Trueman, who by all the rules and regulations should be “borne off the great fortune in the play”’.43 We do not know the exact number of nights the play ran. The London Stage only lists the premiere performance. Giles Jacob, in The Poetical Register, claims that The Twin-Rivals had a ‘very good Success’,44 but Farquhar’s preface indicates that this statement is not true. Farquhar’s preface expresses bitterness at the audience’s reaction to his play. He states that he attempted to answer Collier’s call for more morality on stage, but the fickle audience’s tastes changed. ‘I have therefore, in this Piece, endeavour’d to show, that an English comedy may Answer the strictness of Poetical Justice, but indeed, the greater share of the English Audience; I mean, that Part which is not farther read than in Plays of their own Language, have imbib’d other Principles, and stand up as vigorously for the old Poetick Licence, as they do for the Liberty of the Subject.’45 Farquhar was aware that The Twin-Rivals was different from the other plays that were on the stage during this time, and we can infer from his preface that he believed The Twin-Rivals was well written. Two elements of this play are highly original – the use of the good twin/evil twin (Elder Woud’be/Young Woud’be), and the cunning, lying, midwife Midnight. These characters do not have a precedent in earlier drama, though several parallels can be drawn between The Funeral and The Twin-Rivals. Both plays have a female blocking character (Lady Brumpton and Midnight). Both plays mock the legal profession by showing unscrupulous lawyers who try to manipulate wills (Puzzle and Subtleman). In both plays a virtuous woman is threatened with rape (Lady Sharlot and Aurelia), and both plays have similar couplings – a disinherited son and his faithful woman (Lord Hardy/Lady Sharlot and Elder Woud’be/Constance) and his friend and a feisty woman (Campley/Lady Harriot and Trueman/Aurelia). Kenny states that while there is no specific evidence to prove that Farquhar borrowed directly from Steele, these two plays are dif-

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ferent enough from other comedies of the time to suggest that Farquhar was at least aware of Steele’s experimentation. ‘The melodramatic intensity created by actual or attempted crimes against people – stolen inheritances or attempted rapes – was exceedingly rare in 1702. If Farquhar did not borrow lines from Steele, he may have well been moved to the experimentation in The Twin-Rivals by the success of his contemporary.’46 The Twin-Rivals, however, may have been too dark and too different for the audience, and as a result, Farquhar was disappointed by his play’s reception. The actors chosen for The Twin-Rivals were all familiar with Farquhar’s plays, and most of them had worked together in The Funeral. Wilks, who by this time was known for playing lively, debonair characters (like Campley in The Funeral), was cast as the serious Elder Woud’be who finds his inheritance and reputation in jeopardy. Mills, who was Lord Brumpton’s loyal and faithful servant Trusty in The Funeral, played Elder Woud’be’s loyal and faithful friend, Trueman. Wilks was again paired up with Rogers (she was Lady Harriot in The Funeral) as Constance, and Mary Hook (an actress about whom we know very little) played opposite Trueman as Aurelia. Cibber was cast as the evil Young Woud’be, and Benjamin Husband, an actor who frequently played roles of some importance, was cast as the lecherous Richmore. Pinkethman and Fairbank, who had small roles in The Funeral, had slightly larger roles as Subtleman and Clearaccount, and the bumbling servant Teague was played by Bowen, who was known for his imitation of the Irish brogue. The most interesting casting choice was the decision to have a man play Midnight. Bullock was known for his crossdressing roles, and he had donned a skirt for the small part of Kate Matchlock in The Funeral. Casting him as Midnight started a history of male actors in the role, and in fact, the first woman to play Midnight did not do so until 1739 when Mrs E. Marshall took the part. Critics have given many different labels to The Twin-Rivals, but very few have recognized the brilliance of this play. Bernbaum believes that The TwinRivals is an example of sentimental comedy,47 and The Revels History calls the play ‘an exemplary drama showing men of sense and virtuous women, with a young rake held up for ridicule’.48 Perry even states that The Twin-Rivals is not really a comedy, ‘Farquhar’s next play, The Twin-Rivals, is chiefly serious drama and very little, one regrets, true comedy’.49 Farquhar’s nod towards Collier in the preface and the fact that he says that he wrote The Twin-Rivals to be a moral play that would meet Collier’s approval has also been a source of debate. Some critics, like Eric Rothstein, believe that Farquhar’s statement was sincere. ‘It is useless to speculate whether the praise of Collier is sincere or not. What is far more significant is that if Farquhar is to be taken literally, and I do not see why he should not be, The Twin-Rivals was to be written as an extension of Collier’s “Satyr”.’50 Matthew J. Kinservik, in Disciplining Satire: The Censorship of Satiric Comedy on

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the Eighteenth-Century London Stage, agrees with Rothstein, ‘The Twin-Rivals is less a refutation of Collier’s censure than proof that he had effectively assumed the function of stage censor. Of course, only the Master of the Revels had the authority to demand alterations of a play text, but as Farquhar’s preface and play show, Collier had done the work of censorship before the actual inscription of the play. The focus on Collier in the preface indicates that his arguments acted as a prior restraint on Farquhar’s composition.’51 Other critics, like Nicoll, believe that Farquhar was being a cynic. ‘This profession is probably cynical and satiric, for The Twin-Rivals is not a comedy of which the author of A Short View would have approved, and there is more than a touch of sarcasm in the words of Elder Wouldbee at the close: “And now I hope all Parties have receiv’d their due Rewards and Punishments”.’52 The uniqueness of The Twin-Rivals has spawned a diverse range of criticism, which Nelson James sums up in The Development of George Farquhar as a Comic Dramatist, ‘Thus, reading over the scanty criticism of Farquhar’s play, we find we have a “what d’ye call it” – an immorally moral (or a morally immoral) comedy-comedy of manners-sentimental comedy-romantic comedy-problem play-melodrama tragedy’.53 This uniqueness makes the play difficult for critics to categorize. While these critiques vary widely, the one thing that they do all have in common is the fact that none of them recognizes how brilliant and well written the play is. Stonehill does state that The Twin-Rivals is ‘a play of great originality’,54 and Kenny agrees that Farquhar is experimenting with a ‘radically new kind of comedy’.55 Hume also believes that Farquhar is doing something different in The Twin-Rivals, ‘Farquhar attacks Rakes and legal jiggery-pokery with savage gusto, and the humour is often brilliant’.56 The Twin-Rivals is a wonderfully well-constructed play with complex characters and an interesting plot and has a mix of very funny scenes and very troubling ones. Everything about The Twin-Rivals is experimental, which makes this play one that deserves more critical attention. What makes The Twin-Rivals an example of ‘humane comedy?’ An easier question to answer would be ‘what elements of The Twin-Rivals are like the comedies of the past?’ The concept of the younger brother/older brother and inheritance problems is not entirely a new one (see Vanbrugh’s The Relapse), but for the first time we have a truly evil younger brother who goes to great lengths to attempt to swindle the older brother out of their father’s fortune. The hunchbacked Younger Woud’be’s anger and resentment towards his brother began at birth, ‘My Twin-Brother! Ay, ’twas his crouding me that spoil’d my Shape, and his coming half an Hour before me that ruin’d my Fortune.’57 He even attempted to persuade his father that his twin brother was a bastard, and for this he was given his share of the inheritance (£1,500) and exiled from the home. Upon hearing about his father’s death his immediate thought is for himself. ‘My Father; – Good night, my Lord; Has he left me any thing?’58 and he sees his father’s

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death and his brother’s absence abroad as an opportunity to seize his brother’s inheritance. This opportunity is what drives the rest of the action of the play. Young Woud’be is an evil person, and he is especially despicable because of the lies he is willing to tell and participate in. With Midnight’s help, he writes a letter that claims Elder Woud’be was killed in a duel. He also has Subtleman, the lawyer, rewrite his father’s will, and he plans to woo and seduce his brother’s betrothed, Constance. In the character of Young Woud’be, Farquhar did an excellent job creating a character with psychological depth. Young Woud’be is full of malice, and we know why. He has a history of doing terrible things to his brother and his persistence throughout the play in trying to claim the inheritance is consistent with his character. He makes such comments as ‘ … I hate him’ and ‘All my hope is, that when he gets into his Honour and Estate, the Nobility will soon kill him by Drinking him up to his Dignity’.59 Young Woud’be even expresses joy when he thinks that his brother has killed himself, ‘Well, I must own he has found the way to molifie me, and I do love him now with all my heart, since he was so very civil to justle into the World before me, I think he did very civilly to justle out of it before me’.60 Throughout the entire play Young Woud’be’s character is consistently and brilliantly drawn, and he possesses considerable psychological depth, especially in comparison with Roebuck in Love and a Bottle or even Sir Harry. Farquhar began this type of character building in Sir Harry, and by the time he wrote The Twin-Rivals he had perfected his ability to create complex characters. Young Woud’be pairs up with Midnight, the midwife, and together they try to manipulate the situations around them. There have been cunning women in other plays (for example, Mrs Plotwell in The Beau’s Duel), but none of them has both the cunning and the power to inflict real damage upon people like Midnight. Midnight’s power lies in her profession as a midwife. She has delivered many children, and because of that she has been privy to information not known to everyone, and she has maintained ties with the people she helped to bring into the world. Young Wou’dbe is aware of this power and calls upon her to help him cheat his brother out of his inheritance. ‘I have had her Endeavours to corrupt my Brother’s Mistress; and now her Assistance will be necessary to Cheat him of his Estate; for she’s famous for understanding the Right-side of a Woman, and the Wrong-side of the Law.’61 Midnight is the mastermind behind Young Woud’be’s plot to steal his brother’s inheritance. She is the one who instructs him to write the letter claiming that Elder Woud’be died in a duel, and she finds the lawyer to help him rewrite the will. Midnight delivered Subtleman, the lawyer. She claims that his father was a Jew and his mother ‘a fine young Virgin’.62 After baby Subtleman was born, Midnight was the person who set him on his path to becoming a lawyer (‘ … the Child was left with me – the Father wou’d have made a Jew on’t presently, but I swore, if he committed such a Barbarity on

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the Infant, that I wou’d discover all – so I had him brought up a good Christian, and bound Prentice to an Attorney’),63 thus solidifying the relationship between Subtleman and Midnight. The most ingenious stroke of dissembling occurs when Midnight ‘saves’ Young Woud’be from losing the family fortune by leaping out at the last minute and ‘confessing’ that Young Woud’be was indeed born first. She kneels to Young Woud’be and says, ‘My deceas’d Lord, upon the sight of your Deformity, engag’d me by a considerable Reward, to say you were the last born, that the beautiful Twin, likely to the be greater Ornament to the Family, might succeed him in his Honour. – This Secret my Conscience has long struggled with.’64 Midnight is in a position of power when she makes this claim because everyone who might be able to refute her is dead. Therefore, Elder and Young Woud’be have to believe her because she cannot be proven wrong. After everyone leaves, however, she admits to Young Woud’be that she lied. ‘For, faith and troth, as I am an honest Woman, you were born above three quarters of an hour after him; – but I do’t much care if I do swear that you are the eldest.’65 Midnight does what she thinks is necessary for Young Woud’be to attain the inheritance. Midnight is a complex character. She uses such words as ‘honest’ and ‘conscious’ in reference to herself, yet she knows that she lies to protect others and to gain things for herself. She is complex because the things that she says can be understood many different ways. Is she being honest? Is she lying? Is she lying to herself ? Often her motives are unclear. For example, Young Woud’be pays her for lying for him. She then says, ‘Thank you, my Lord: That five hundred a Year will afford me a leisurely Life, and a handsome Retirement in the Countrey, where I mean to repent me of my Sins, and die a good Christian: For Heaven knows, I am old, and ought to bethink me of another Life. – Have you none of the Cordial left that we had in the morning?’66 Is Midnight really remorseful? Or are her comments not to be taken seriously? Farquhar does an excellent job constructing a character with many different levels to her personality. There are no characters like her in previous drama. Midnight is truly original. Farquhar also develops a new kind of servant in The Twin-Rivals. There are faithful, bumbling servants in other plays, but Teague is different because, even though he seems to be a simple man who is most interested in food and drink, his service is invaluable to his master, Elder Woud’be, and he reveals himself to be smarter than he appears. Teague is somewhat representative of a character type that would continue into the eighteenth century – the Stage Irishman – who is usually a laughing stock and often the butt of many of the jokes. Teague, however, is different. He is very likeable. When he first enters the stage he is carrying a Port-Mantel, which he immediately throws down and sits on. Elder Woud’be chastises Teague for rumpling his things, but Teague replies, ‘Be me Shoule, Maishter, I did carry the Port-Mantel till it tir’d me; and now the Port-Mantel

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shall carry me till I tire him’.67 Teague’s demeanor convinces Subtleman that he is a fool, and the right person to pay as a ‘witness’ to Younger Woud’be’s father’s fake will. Subtleman underestimates Teague, however, who is smart enough to recognize a precarious situation when he sees one. Subtleman. What was your Master’s Name, pray? Teague. I will tell a Lee now; but it shall be a true one. [Aside.] Macfadin, dear Joy, was his Naam. He vent over with King Jamish into France. – He was my Master once. – Dere ish de tru Lee; noo. (Aside.) Subtleman. What Employment had he? Teague. Je ne scay pas. Subtleman. What! you can speak French? Teague. Ouy Monsieur; – I did travel France, and Spain, and Italy – Dear Joy, I did kish the Pope’s Toe, and dat will excuse me all the Sins of my Life; and fen I am dead, St. Patrick will excuse the rest. Subtleman. A rare Fellow for my purpose. (Aside.) Thou look’st like an honest Fellow; and if you’ll go with me to the next Tavern, I’ll give thee a Dinner, and a Glass of Wine. Teague. Be me Shoul, ’tis dat I wanted, dear Joy; come along, I will follow you.68

Teague proves to be helpful several times throughout the play. He foils Young Woud’be’s plan to have someone swear to the fake will he and Subtleman created when Teague reveals himself to be the witness. Even when he does so, however, he still bumbles a bit, ‘Maishter! see here Maishter, I did get all dish (Clinks Money.) for being an Evidensh dear Joy, an be me shoule I will give the half of it to you, if you will give me your Permission to make swear against you’.69 Teague also shows Constance where Elder Woud’be is being held prisoner. He gets lost when leading Trueman to the Constable’s house, but as a result they end up in front of the tavern where Richmore is attempting to rape Aurelia. Upon hearing her cries, Teague helps Trueman to raise the mob and eventually save Aurelia. He also apprehends Midnight, who is responsible for setting up Aurelia’s potential rape. Teague enters, holding Midnight by the hair, ‘Be me Shoul I have taken my share of the Plunder. Let me she fat I have gotten (Takes her to the Light.) Ububboo, a Witch, a Witch; the very saam Witch dat would swaar my Maishter was de youngest.’70 Many times during the course of the play, Teague ends up saving the people around him from harm. On the surface he seems to be simple-minded and bumbling, but he is actually intelligent and has his wits about him. These attributes make Teague a very interesting and different character. Despite all of the dark themes that permeate the play, Farquhar manages to include very funny lines and scenes. Even his two evil characters can be very humorous. After Young Wou’dbe finds himself in possession of his father’s inheritance, he takes full advantage of his newly acquired money and is dressing in

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front of a mirror while men come to ask favours of him. The exchange between the Alderman and Young Woud’be is especially humorous. Alderman. Then, My Lord, He Salutes with his Pike so very handsomely, it went to his Mistress’s Heart, t’other day – Then he Beats a Drum like an Angel. Young Woud’be. Sir, I’ll do you all the Service I can – (Not taking the least notice of the Alderman all this while, but Dressing himself in the Glass.) Alderman. But, My Lord, The hurry of your Lordship’s Affairs may put my Business out of your Head; therefore, my Lord, I’ll presume to leave you some Memorandum. Young Woud’be. I’ll do you all the Service I can. (Not minding him.) Alderman. Pray my Lord, (Pulling him by the Sleeve.) Give me leave for a Memorandum; My Glove, I suppose will do: Here, My Lord, Pray remember me Lays his Glove upon the Table, and Exit. Young Woud’be. I’ll do you all the Service I can – What, Is he gone? ’Tis the most rude familiar Fellow – Faugh, What a greasie Gauntlet is here – (A Purse drops out of the Glove.) Oh! no, no, the Glove is a clean well made Glove, and the owner of it, the most respectful Person I have seen this Morning, he knows what distance (Chinking the Purse.) is due to a Man of Quality, – but what must I do for this? Frisure (To his Valet.) do you remember what the Alderman said to me!71

Even though Young Woud’be is self-centred and greedy (as evidenced by this exchange), Farquhar still manages to make the audience laugh at his behaviour. He does the same thing with Midnight. Midnight. My Dear Child, Bless thee – Who wou’d have imagin’d that I brought this great Rogue into the World? He makes me an old Woman I protest – But adso, my Child, I forgot; I’m sorry for the loss of your Father, sorry at my Heard, poor Man. (Weeps.) Mr. Woud’be, Have you got a drop of Brandy in your Closet? I an’t very well to day. Young Woud’be. That you shan’t want; But please to sit my dear Mother – Here, Jack, the Brandy-Bottle – Now Madam – I have occasion to use you in Dressing up a handsom Cheat for me. Midnight. I defie any Chamber-Maid in England to do it better – I have drest up a Hundred and Fifty Cheats in my time. Enter Jack with the Brandy Bottle. Here, Boy, this Glass is too big, carry it away, I’ll take a Sup out of the Bottle.72

The fact that Young Woud’be is greedy and Midnight is a drunk is not funny; however, through the use of clever dialogue and well-constructed scenes, Farquhar manages to poke fun at the vices of these evil characters. One of the main themes in The Twin-Rivals is primogeniture, or the right of the eldest son to inherit his parents’ entire estate, and Farquhar’s use of this issue is innovative. While other playwrights found humour in primogeniture (for example, Vanbrugh’s The Relapse) Farquhar problematized the issue. In The Twin-Rivals brothers are separated by mere minutes, instead of years, and the

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person who inherits the family fortune is the one who pushed his way out of the womb first. Farquhar’s use of primogeniture as the vehicle that drives the characters to commit evil acts is new. The Twin-Rivals is one of the first plays to put this issue in a negative and harmful context, but Farquhar seems to making a comment upon the evil nature of Young Woud’be instead of directly criticizing primogeniture itself. To a twenty-first-century audience The Twin-Rivals seems to be a negative comment upon the practice of primogeniture. The idea that the entire inheritance goes to Elder Woud’be, even though he is only the elder brother by a few minutes, seems to be unfair. However, to Farquhar’s audience, primogeniture was accepted and expected, and they would not have read The Twin-Rivals as a denunciation of the practice. If Farquhar wanted to criticize this issue then he might have made Elder Woud’be a terrible man and Younger Woud’be a virtuous one, thereby illustrating the unfairness of leaving an entire fortune to someone simply based upon birth order. Farquhar does not do this, however, and instead the fact that Elder Woud’be is to inherit all of his father’s fortune is just the context that Farquhar uses to develop the character of Young Woud’be. Being born second did not make Young Woud’be evil, but the situation of being a younger brother excluded from inheritance by minutes is the perfect avenue to explore a character like him. Farquhar’s The Twin-Rivals is significant for another reason: his character of Midnight may have served as the inspiration for two other literary figures popular in the eighteenth century – Daniel Defoe’s Mother Midnight in The History and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders (1722) and Christopher Smart’s Mrs Midnight, who is present in both his magazine, Midwife, and his stage show, The Old Woman’s Oratory. Defoe has most often been seen as the literary originator of the midwife/bawd ‘Midnight,’ but The Twin-Rivals precedes the publication of Moll Flanders by twenty-one years. In the preface to Moll Flanders, Defoe describes Mother Midnight using several adjectives that are appropriate for Midnight in The Twin-Rivals. ‘The Life of her Governess, as she calls here, who had run thro’, it seems in a few Years, all the eminent degrees of a Gentlewoman, a Whore, and a Bawd; a Midwife, and a Midwife-keeper, as they are call’d; a Pawnbroker, a Child-taker, a Receiver of Thieves and of Thieves purchase, that is to say, of stolen Goods; and in a Word, her self a Thief, a Breeder up of Thieves, and the like, and yet at last a Penitent.’73 The strong similarities in the description of the two characters indicate that Farquhar’s Midnight could have easily fit into the world of Defoe’s novel. Midnight serves as the perfect type of woman who could assist and commiserate with Moll Flanders as she is confronted with pregnancy, a child she cannot take care of and a life as a thief. As a result, several of the characteristics inherent in Midnight are also present in Mother Midnight. In Moll Flanders, Defoe is representing a world where women (and men) will do almost anything to survive. Prostitution and theft are common occurrences

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in Moll’s life, and the only people who flourish are ones who have learned how to work the system well. In The Twin-Rivals, Midnight is able to escape from all entanglements with no punishment, making her the perfect character type to prosper in Moll Flanders as well. The connections between the two characters are clear and imply direct influence, but is there any concrete evidence that Defoe might have seen or read Farquhar’s The Twin-Rivals? A definitive answer to this question is impossible to determine. Defoe spoke out vehemently against the stage, and published many of his criticisms in his periodical Review.74 Defoe’s Review ran from 1704 until 1713, and was published several times a week. Defoe believed that the stage was to blame for the ills in society. He was in agreement with Collier that the stage needed to be reformed, and he wanted plays to instruct men and women on morality and virtue. ‘I was in hopes, that Her Majesty’s late Order for regulating of Plays, and a Commission granted for that Purpose, would have been more effectual than I doubt it will, for the restraining those Excesses which sober Men complain of; and that the Stage would have been, as no Question it might be, a Discouragement to Vice, and an Illustration of Virtue, and a Fountain of Wit, Learning, Eloquence, and polite Language, untainted with Indecency and Immoralities.’75 In one of his reviews, Defoe chastises Oxford for allowing plays to be performed in the vicinity of the university. He writes, ‘How then can the Work of Reformation of Manners go on in England, when the Youth of our Clergy shall have their Minds early made familiar with the Profaneness and Immoralities constantly acted upon the Stage, and introduc’d under the Authority of the University’.76 Although Defoe condemns the stage, he is very specific in enumerating exactly what he believes is wrong about the pastime, indicating at least some familiarity with some of the plays. He states that modesty is cast aside, lewdness is celebrated, universities are scorned, religion is mocked and God is insulted. Defoe even makes reference to particular plays like Dryden’s The Spanish Fryar and Farquhar’s The Recruiting Officer. So while there is no direct evident to indicate that Defoe saw or read The Twin-Rivals, Defoe may have been familiar with the play – not to admire it, but possibly to condemn it. The mention of The Recruiting Officer does imply a familiarity with Farquhar as a dramatist. Farquhar’s mention of Collier in his preface to The Twin-Rivals, and his statement that the play is his attempt to present ‘Poetical Justice’ may have inspired Defoe to read or see it, looking for examples of moral comedy. Although Defoe believed that the academy should screen plays for moral content, he was not as rigid in his beliefs as Collier. In his biography of Defoe, Maximillian Novak states, ‘Defoe joined with such critics in seeing a necessity for some moral scrutiny of plays, but by giving the task to an academy devoted to language and literature, he appeared to desire avoiding a rigid moral censor such as Collier’.77 Paula Backscheider notes that references to the theatre are present

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in some of Defoe’s writings: ‘Certainly Defoe had become more interested in the theatre. Whether he read or saw the plays is not known, but the increasing number of comments and epigraphs from plays that appear in his works show far more than casual familiarity with a wide range of plays.’78 Defoe’s familiarity with the theatre may have introduced him to Farquhar’s Midnight and may have inspired him when creating Mother Midnight in Moll Flanders. Like Defoe, Christopher Smart also adapted Farquhar’s Midnight. Smart’s creation was the character of Mrs Midnight, also known as Mary Midnight. Smart hearkened back to Farquhar’s representation by bringing Mrs Midnight to life in both a written manifestation and on the stage. Mrs Midnight served as a mouthpiece for Smart’s social and political commentary both in his magazine, Midwife, and in his Old Woman’s Oratory. Smart’s Midwife, first appeared on 16 October 1750. The magazine was a tremendous success and went into four editions almost immediately.79 Midwife was a collection of jokes, poems, advice and reflections, many of which were signed by Mrs Midnight or Mary Midnight. Mary Midnight is depicted on the frontispiece of the magazine as an old woman smoking a pipe and sitting at a table writing. The magazine ran until June 1753, and by that time, Smart had established a figure who served as a mouthpiece for his political and social commentary. Chris Mounsey notes, ‘… an obvious explanation of its modus operandi might be that the disguised political comment lay beneath a frivolous surface, where Mary Midnight was the comic surface, and Christopher Smart the serious commentator. However, the strategy was more complex and used a number of interdependent “voices” running throughout several numbers of the magazine. Alone, the “voices” were relatively innocuous; together, they produced a clear critique of the government led by the Pelham brothers.’80 Thomas and Henry Pelham (Thomas went by the last name Pelham-Holles) were both members of Parliament – Thomas in the House of Lords and Henry in the House of Commons. Smart felt as though the brothers were uneducated and unsuited for the positions. The Pelhams were Whigs, and they sought the favour of King George II, who was more interested in his aff airs on the continent than he was in British affairs. The brothers’ behaviour was an easy target for critique – for example, they tried to put the universities under a crown patent, but fortunately their attempts were thwarted by the Prince of Wales who was acting under an agreement with the Tories.81 Smart did not agree with their political leanings, and voiced his opposition in his magazine, Midwife, through the character of Mary Midnight. Like Defoe’s character, the name ‘Mrs Midnight’ obviously hearkens back to Farquhar’s Midnight, but the influence of the earlier work does not stop here. Why might Smart have chosen Midnight on which to base his politically and socially outspoken character? Midnight’s personality traits make her a perfect vehicle for Smart. She is outspoken and not afraid to speak her mind, as evi-

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denced particularly in her interactions with Young Woud’be and Richmore. Both Farquhar’s and Smart’s characters are also masters at using rhetoric to control the situations around them. Midnight knows when to reveal the ‘truth’ about Young Woud’be being the first born in a manner that avoids bringing condemnation upon herself, and Mrs Midnight also knows how to speak the truth in a manner that avoids censure. For example, in Midwife is published ‘An Oration spoken to the Clappers, Hissers, and Damners, attending both Theatres’. In this oration, Midnight uses compliments full of sarcasm to truthfully express how she feels about the audience’s reaction to her performance. She states: When in the Side Box I reflect on the antient Critics; when I call to mind the Sentiments of Aristotle, Dionysus, Longinus, and then turn my Eyes on you, I am astonish’d! confounded! and my Admiration rises to a Height, which ’tis impossible for me here to express. Aristotle was an Ass, Dionysus a Driveler, Longinus a Leatherhead, and all the antient Critics collected in a Body, a Parcel of Giddy-Heads, Goose-Caps, and Hum-drums, who wou’d have been three Days in reading, considering and revising a Play, which you can judge and condemn, without any Consideration in the World, and without either hearing or seeing a Syllable, in three Minutes. Wonderful Abilities indeed!82

This sharp tongue and wit are clear personality traits in Farquhar’s original character, and both women know how to use language to get across information in the manner that they choose. Because both The Twin-Rivals and Smart’s Oratory were performed, the connection between the two characters becomes even more evident. The original performance history of Midnight as a role for a man offers yet more proof for why Smart decided to adapt Farquhar’s character for his purposes. As a midwife, Midnight has a certain degree of power (as shown by the actions of both Farquhar’s and Defoe’s Midnight). All Smart had to do was transfer her power from the realm of the birthing chamber to the political one. Also, the cross dressing nature of this particular role is very subversive. In the world of The Twin-Rivals, a man in the lying-in chamber (where women would give birth) would threaten the sanctity of the all female space. It is also quite possible that the infiltration of this all-female space by a man might have been a reason why the women in Farquhar’s initial audience condemned the play.83 Conversely, the presence of an outspoken ‘woman’ in the political arena troubles the all male space. Smart, dressed as Mrs Midnight, could simultaneously hide his own identity, speak his mind under the guise of another voice and trouble the norms of a society that kept the spheres of the public (male) and private (female) separate. Adapting Farquhar’s Midnight allowed Smart to easily satisfy several objectives, and as his Mrs Midnight became a popular cultural figure, he helped to continue the Midnight legacy started by Farquhar.

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Many critics theorize about why Smart chose the pseudonym ‘Mrs Midnight’, but none address why he decided to adapt Farquhar’s character. Lance Bertelsen believes that Smart’s Midnight is derived from a cultural figure who was an amalgamation of various real life lower-class women like female criminals and prostitutes. Bertelsen states, ‘Mary Midnight, of course, is a midwife: a folk figure known for gossiping tippling, and disposing of – as well as delivering – newborn babies’.84 Mounsey argues that Smart chose a female voice in an attempt to avoid censorship. By writing under the pseudonym ‘Mary Midnight’, readers of the Midwife would initially associate it with other female magazines. Mounsey states, ‘Smart’s magazine can be seen to have been carefully located in a preexisting tradition of female magazine writing, and one that on its surface did not lend itself to political comment, but consisted of gossip’.85 Fraser Easton notes that in dressing like a woman, Smart was following a tradition of female impersonators. Easton states, ‘Stories of female cross-dressing, while perennial favourites, were especially common in the period of Smart’s activity, and accounts of the female soldier Christian Davies, the martial cross-dressing of the legendary Jacobite Jenny Cameron, and Hannah Snell all appeared over the decade ending in 1750’.86 A few critics have noted the connection between The Twin-Rivals and later works, but none has traced out how Midnight directly influenced Defoe and Smart.87 Why might there be a lack of critical exploration on this issue? I believe that the error in Stonehill’s edition of the collected works of Farquhar is primarily to blame for this oversight. In the dramatis personae of The Twin-Rivals, Stonehill lists the character’s name as ‘Mandrake’. He also incorrectly attributes the role to ‘Mrs Bullock’ instead of Bullock. However, when discussing the theatrical history of the play, Stonehill drops the ‘Mrs’. He states, ‘Mrs Rogers, Anne Oldfield’s bitter enemy, kept the part of Constance, when The Twin-Rivals was revived at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, November 3rd 1716. Bullock was the only other member of the original cast, and now played the Alderman, Mrs Pack taking his place as Mandrake.’88 Kenny states that the next actor to play the role was Pack, not Mrs Pack, and women did not portray Midnight until 1739.89 When discussing the 1725 Drury Lane performance, Stonehill states, ‘Harper took the character of Mandrake, now for the first time billed as Mrs Midnight, a name which became symbolic in the English language’.90 While Stonehill is correct that 1725 was the first time the character was billed as ‘Mrs’. Midnight, his failure to mention ‘Midnight’ as the original name implies that he believes that the Drury Lane performance was the first time the name ‘Midnight’ was used for the character. I believe that Stonehill’s inaccuracies are essential for understanding why The Twin-Rivals has been relatively ignored as the source of the various Midnight incarnations throughout the eighteenth century. Until Kenny’s edition

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was published in 1988, Stonehill was the standard edition of Farquhar’s works. His edition was originally published in 1930 and reprinted in 1967. Since 1930, scholars interested in The Twin-Rivals were reading the character’s name as ‘Mandrake’. Stonehill only briefly discusses the name ‘Midnight’ in his introduction, and by incorrectly attributing the name change to 1725, any interested scholars might assume that the change was connected to Defoe’s character, since Moll Flanders was published three years prior. Therefore, the chronology of influence would be reversed, and Defoe could be seen (and often has been) as the originator of the character of ‘Midnight’. The character of Midnight/Mother Midnight/Mrs Midnight was born in Farquhar’s The Twin-Rivals. His cunning, powerful, interesting figure spoke to his fellow writers and influenced them to use her in their own creative endeavours. The same month that The Twin-Rivals premiered at Drury Lane, Centlivre’s The Heiress opened at Lincoln’s Inn Fields (31 December 1702). A few months later, in June 1703, Centlivre premiered another comedy, Love’s Contrivance, at Drury Lane. By all accounts, The Heiress was a failure (there is only one performance listed in The London Stage), but Centlivre’s second play of the season was a modest success. The London Stage lists five performances of Love’s Contrivance throughout the month of June, with the third night benefiting Centlivre herself, the fourth night benefiting the boxkeepers, and the fifth night benefiting the dancer, Mrs Campion. On 7 July, the last act of Love’s Contrivance (listed as ‘The Angry Doctor and the Doubting Philosopher’) was performed as part of a medley with The Comic Rivals and the fourth act of The Old Batchelor. Many of the actors who performed in The Beau’s Duel in the previous season were also cast in The Heiress. Bowman and Booth, who had substantial roles in Centlivre’s earlier play, were cast as the Governour and Eugenio. Pack had played the comical role of Ogle in The Beau’s Duel, but in The Heiress he was the serious, love-struck Francisco. Fieldhouse was cast as the stubborn father, Larich, who is determined to marry off his daughter to the man of his choosing. This role was very similar to the part of Careful, which he played in The Beau’s Duel. Powel switched from being ‘an enemy to matrimony’, Toper, to portraying the romantic lead, Palante. The object of his affection, Lucasia, was played by Elizabeth Barry (an ageing superstar by 1702), who was acting in her first Centlivre play. Mrs Prince, who was Clarinda in The Beau’s Duel, once again played a comic heroine – Lavinia. As a whole, this cast was stronger than the cast for The Beau’s Duel, and the performance of Elizabeth Barry, who had been charming audiences since she first took the stage in 1675, was a fine addition to the comedy. However, although the young actors had more experience by December 1702, they were still not strong enough to carry the play through a significant run. Despite the better casting, The Heiress failed most likely due to the plot, which is typical of 1670s and ’80s comedy, and may have been too ‘old fash-

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ion’ for the audience. In The Heiress there are two fathers who have arranged marriages for their daughters. Both daughters are unhappy with their fathers’ choices and they are in love with men of their own choosing. Both daughters try to deceive their fathers in an attempt to marry the men they love, and at the end both of them succeed. The Heiress contains common plot devices like disguises. Eugenio, upon hearing that his father has told everyone that he is dead, puts on a disguise and calls himself Irus in an attempt to figure out his father’s motive behind his actions. Francisco has Sancho remove his scholarly clothes and dress and act like a gentleman, thereby confusing Larich, Lavinia’s father, into believing that Sancho is not who he claims to be. Francisco then dresses like a scholar and pretends to be Sancho in an attempt to marry Lavinia. While the action in some of these scenes is funny, the funny scenes were probably not enough to combat the predictable plot. Centlivre’s lines are not witty, nor are there any unusual or surprising elements to this play, which is probably why The Heiress was a failure. Love’s Contrivance, however, was a success, and Centlivre attributes that success to the actors, especially Wilks and Johnson. She states in her preface, ‘I must own my self infinitely oblig’d to the Players, and in a great Measure the Success was owning to them, especially to Mr. Wilks, who extended his Faculties to such a Pitch, that one may almost say he out-play’d himself; and the Town must confess they never saw three different Characters by one Man acted so well before, and I think my self extremely indebted to him, likewise to Mr. Johnson, who in his way I think the best Comedian of the Age’.91 Wilks was cast as Bellmie, and did a wonderful job playing the different roles Bellmie slips into in an attempt to confuse Sir Toby. Wilks had the opportunity to be three men in one part – Bellmie, the ‘angry doctor’, and the ‘doubting philosopher’ (hence the title of the performance of Act IV that was staged on 7 July). Johnson played off of Wilks as the old Sir Toby who seeks to be married to the young Lucinda. These two actors helped to carry the play through the performances, illustrating that the talent of the actors at Drury Lane are what accounted for, in large part, the success of Love’s Contrivance. Further evidence to support the fact that the strong cast was responsible for the comedy’s success is the fact that the plot of the play is very predictable. In fact, Love’s Contrivance is not very different from The Heiress. The father, Selfwill, wants his young daughter, Lucinda, to marry Sir Toby, who is a man nearing sixty. Lucinda wants to marry Bellmie, but of course her father is against the match. Lucinda tries several tricks to avoid marrying Sir Toby, including pretending to be unable to speak and making ridiculous demands upon Sir Toby that leads him to believe that a marriage to her would be very difficult. Bellmie also plays tricks, pretending to be a doctor and a philosopher, and confusing Sir Toby to the point where he is no longer interested in getting married. At

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the end, Bellmie and Lucinda get married. Love’s Contrivance also contains the best friend of the hero, Octavio, and the best friend/confidant of the heroine, Belliza, who end up getting married to each other at the end as well. There is nothing remarkable about the plot of Love’s Contrivance, nothing unusual or unique about the characters, and nothing particularly witty or clever about the dialogue. What accounts for the success of Love’s Contrivance was the talent of the experienced actors, especially the ability of Wilks to bring a character to life on the stage.

The 1703–4 Season: Steele’s The Lying Lover The Lying Lover, which premiered on 2 December 1703, was Steele’s second play. The comedy ran for six nights, and was not performed again until the spring of 1746. The Lying Lover’s second run only lasted four nights, and then disappeared permanently from the repertoire. The initial performance has been deemed both a failure (by Scouten and Hume)92 and a success (by Kenny).93 Kenny does state that the six nights were probably solely due to the audience’s desire to see another play by Steele. ‘The satisfactory initial run, however, must be attributed to excitement over a new comedy by the author of the popular Funeral rather than to any intrinsic merit.’94 Regardless of how the first performances are viewed, the fact is that The Lying Lover was Steele’s least financially successful play. The Lying Lover is a mix of comedy and didactic denunciation of the practice of duelling. In fact, Bernbaum states that this play was Steele’s first sentimental comedy.95 While Bernbaum never defines what he means by ‘sentimental comedy’, he points to Steele’s preface as evidence of a moral shift. In his preface, Steele states that ‘publick Representations’ should illustrate ‘what is agreeable to the Manners, Laws, Religion and Policy of the Place or Nation in which they are exhibited’.96 Therefore, in The Lying Lover, he has attempted ‘a Comedy, which might be no improper Entertainment in a Christian Commonwealth’.97 Steele enumerates how he did this in his play, which includes creating the character Young Bookwit who ‘makes false Love, gets drunk, and kills his Man; but in the fifth Act awakes from his Debauch, with the Compunction and Remorse which is suitable to a Man’s finding Himself in a Gaol for the Death of his Friend, without His knowing why’.98 The last act of The Lying Lover focuses on the condemnation of duelling and is devoid of any funny lines or situations. Steele states that his inspiration for this play (and particularly Act V) was Collier. ‘Mr Collier had, about the Time wherein this was published, written against the Immorality of the Stage. I was … a great Admirer of his Work, and took it into my Head to write a Comedy in the Severity he required. In this Play I made the Spark or Heroe kill a Man in his Drink, and finding himself in Prison the next Morning, I give him the Contrition which he ought to have on that Occasion.’99 This

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decision may be why The Lying Lover did not enter the repertory. The way the play was constructed (comedy for four acts, moralizing for one) might have also turned off audiences. Later, Steele improved in his ability to make a moral point; The Lying Lover was an early (and failed) attempt to do so. The Lying Lover is a loosely structured courtship play. Penelope does not want to marry Lovemore because she feels that he has no passion. Young Bookwit meets Penelope and lies to her in order to make himself appear more interesting and appealing. She begins to like him, and Lovemore becomes jealous and challenges him to a duel. Drunken Young Bookwit stabs Lovemore and believes that he is dead. Arrested and sent to Newgate, sober Young Bookwit awakens with a sense of remorse for his actions of the previous day. He laments and rails against drunkenness, duelling and folly, sincerely sorry for his actions. Lovemore reveals that he is not dead, and Penelope proclaims her love for him. The Lying Lover has some very funny characters and scenes. Young Bookwit comes up with many lies to impress people and to get him out of certain situations. His lies are outlandish, yet convincing and funny. For example, when Old Bookwit tells his son that he has chosen a wife for him, Young Bookwit lies and says that he is already married. He proceeds to tell his father that his wife’s name is Matilda, her father’s name is Newton, and he married her in Oxford. Young Bookwit then narrates an elaborate story about how he was discovered hiding under his mistress’s bed, how he fought and wounded her brother, and how the situation forced him to marry her. Old Bookwit (and Latine) believes this story, and after he leaves, Latine confronts Young Bookwit. Latine. This Marriage strangely surpriz’d me – Young Bookwit. Why did you believe it too, as well as the old Gentleman? Why then I did it excellently. – Ha! ha! ha! Latine. What! the Watch! – The Pistol! – Lady swooning, her pitying, upbraiding Looks! all Chimæra? Young Bookwit. Nothing by downright Wit to keep my self safe for Victoria. Latine. May I desire one Favour. Young Bookwit. What can I deny thee, my Privado? Latine. Only that you’d give me some little secret hint – when next you L – are going to be witty. – But to jumble Particulars so readily! ’tis impossible you cou’d, I believe, at the beginning of your Tale know the ending. – Yet – Young Bookwit. These are Gifts, Child, mere Gifts; ’tis not to be learnt – the Skill of Lying, – Except Humour, Wit, Invention, Presence of Mind, Retention, Memory, Circumspection, &c, – were to be attain’d by Industry. – You must not hum, nor haw, not blush for’t – 100

Young Bookwit has many scenes like this one. He lies about everything, and many of the lies he tells are ludicrous. Another very funny scene takes place between Penelope and Victoria. They both like Young Bookwit, and are preparing to meet him. Each woman is jealous

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of the other, and in an attempt to catch Young Bookwit’s eye, they try to make the other woman look foolish. They do this all under the guise of trying to help each other. Victoria. I’ll wait upon you, my dear. – (Aside.) She’s very prettily dress’d. [To Penelope.] But indeed, my dear, you shan’t go with your Hoods so. – It makes you look abominably, with your Head so forward. – There – (Displacing her Head.) That’s something. – You had before a fearful, silly, blushing Look. – Now you command all Hearts – Penelope. Thank you, my dear – Victoria. Your Servant, dearest – Penelope. But alas, Madam, who patch’d you to Day? – Let me see. – It is the hardest thing in Dress. – I may say without Vanity – I know a little of it. – That so low on the Cheeks pulps the Flesh too much. – Hold still, my dear, I’ll place it just by your Eye. – (Aside.) Now she downright squints.101

The women continue to ‘fix each other up’, and by the end of the scene they both look ridiculous as they head off to meet Young Bookwit. Steele has funny lines and scenes like these throughout acts I through IV; in the last act, however, he leaves comedy behind and adopts a more serious tone. In Act V of The Lying Lover, Steele moralizes and shows the consequences of drinking and duelling. There are no funny lines in this act, and the entire tone is different from the other four. Act V opens with Young Bookwit in Newgate. He has been arrested for duelling with and possibly killing Lovemore. Upon awaking, Young Bookwit is full of remorse for his actions. ‘How heavily do I awake this Morning! Oh this senseless drinking! To suffer a whole Weeks Pain for an Hour’s Jollity. – Methinks my Senses are burning round me. – I have – But interrupted Hints of last Night. – Ha! In a Gaol; – Oh! I remember, I remember: Oh Lovemore! Lovemore! I remember – ’102 He is full of despair and grief, and cannot be consoled for his actions. Latine tries to raise Young Bookwit’s spirits by saying that honour was at stake. Young Bookwit replies, ‘Honour! the horrid Application of that sacred Word, to a Revenge ’gainst Friendship, Law and Reason, is a damn’d last shift of the damn’d envious Foe of Human Race’.103 Steele writes many of the lines in Act V in verse, which is used only sparingly in Acts I–IV. Most of the verse lines are spoken by Young Bookwit, indicating the seriousness of the subject about which he is speaking. In these verse lines, Young Bookwit is expressing grief at his situation. Young Bookwit. Oh! Sir, consider, I was born to die. – ’Tis but expanding Thought, and Life is nothing; Ages and Generations pass away, And with resistless Force like Waves, o’er Waves, Roul down the irrevocable Stream of Time. Into the insatiate Ocean for ever – Thus was are gone.

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But the erroneous Sense of Man – ’tis the lamented that’s at rest, but the Survivor mourns – All my sorrows vanish with that Thought, But Heav’n grant my aged Father Patience.104

The entire act has a very serious, melancholy tone, which is quite different from the lighter tone of the other acts. Even when Young Bookwit realizes that Lovemore is still alive, there is no joyous celebration. Instead, Old Bookwit uses this opportunity to preach to his son about the importance of telling the truth at all times. Old Bookwit. You see, my Son, how Constancy’s rewarded. You have from Nature every Quality, To make you well become what Fortune gave you; But neither Wit, or Beauty, Wealth or Courage, Implicitly deserve the World’s Esteem, They’re only in their Application, Goods – How cou’d you fight a Man you knew not why, You don’t think that ’tis great, merely to dare? ’Tis that a Man is just he shou’d be bold. Indeed you’ve err’d.105

Old Bookwit’s speech is just a few lines before the end of the play, and his message is the one the audience is left with. The funny, lighter moments the audience witnessed early in the comedy have been replaced by heavy moralizing. While The Lying Lover is not an example of humane comedy, the play does represent an attempt by Steele to experiment with moralizing in his texts. Some critics state that The Lying Lover is Steele’s first attempt at ‘sentimental comedy’, and they believe that he would develop his ability to write this type of comedy in his later plays.

The 1704–5 Season: Cibber’s The Careless Husband, Centlivre’s The Gamester, Steele’s The Tender Husband The Careless Husband opened on 7 December 1704 and had a successful run. The play was performed for ten nights in December and was revived three times in January, once in February, once in March and once in June. Cibber states in his preface, ‘The best Criticks have long and justly complain’d, that the Coarsness of most Characters in our late Comedies have been unfit Entertainments for People of Quality, especially the Ladies: And therefore I was long in hopes, that some able Pen … wou’d generously attempt to reform the Town into a better Taste than the World generally allow ’em.’106 In the absence of that ‘able Pen’, Cibber decided that he was going to write a play that would raise the moral consciousness of the audience.

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The plot of the comedy is as follows. Sir Charles repeatedly cheats on his wife, Lady Easy. His mistresses include Lady Graveairs and Lady Easy’s maid, Edging. Although aware of his philandering, Lady Easy decides to pretend to be ignorant of Sir Charles’s behaviour. Meanwhile, Lord Morelove is enamored with Lady Betty Modish, who is more interested in amusing herself with Lord Foppington. The action of the play revolves around Sir Charles avoiding the advances of Lady Graveairs, and Lord Morelove trying to get the attention of Lady Betty. The climax occurs when Lady Easy enters her bedchamber to discover Sir Charles, who is without his wig, and Edging asleep in two easy chairs after having sexual relations. Instead of getting angry and waking them up, Lady Easy places her scarf on top of Sir Charles’s bald head to let him know that she was aware of his actions. He awakens to find the token and realizes that his wife is fully aware of his activities. He is filled with remorse, confesses everything and vows to reform his ways. Meanwhile, Lady Betty admits that she does like Lord Morelove. Bernbaum believes that The Careless Husband is one of the early ‘sentimental comedies’ and helped to solidify the genre’s future. ‘The progress of the genre was thus doubtful, when Cibber came to its rescue with The Careless Husband (7 December 1704), and established, in the face of declining fortunes, its permanent popularity’,107 Bernbaum also claims that The Careless Husband (along with Love’s Last Shift, The Twin-Rivals, The Fair Example and The Lying Lover) is important because the play ‘interpreted ordinary life sentimentally’.108 Cibber, according to Bernbaum, was consciously revolting against authority, bringing the pathetic into comedy and including virtuous characters. Nicoll disagrees with Bernbaum. He believes that The Careless Husband ‘is not in essence a truly sentimental drama’.109 Nicoll bases his argument on the fact that even though there is reconciliation at the end and moralizations throughout the play, the comedy still feels like a Restoration drama: ‘ … the general atmosphere of the comedy is immoral; the situations frequently reminding one of similar situations in Restoration dramas’.110 Nicoll believes that the moral aim of the play is extraneous and unnaturally forced; however, the conversion of a wayward husband was certainly not new (for example Love’s Last Shift) and therefore would not be seen as unusual or far-fetched to the audience. To Hume, The Careless Husband is neither sentimental nor Restorationlike. Instead, he calls the play an example of humane comedy. The happy ending makes The Careless Husband a ‘solution play’ (what he sees as a sub-genre of humane comedy), where marital discord is a problem that needs to be solved.111 ‘At the end we are presumably to feel that warm glow which ordinarily comes from marriage and a happy-ever-after ending … Sir Charles is basically a pleasant and attractive character: his conversion is still too facile, but we can accept his penitence quite as readily as we can the majority of rake reforms at the end of romance comedies.’112 Hume points out some weaknesses in The Careless

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Husband, namely the patchy plot and the verbosity. Hume believes that some of the problems are a result of Cibber’s attempt to appeal to the morality of the audience. ‘His dedication decries coarseness; he wants to appeal to people of quality, and so he avoids boisterous low humours and city intrigue devices. Instead he relies on conversation to fill out his play – and unhappily only the skill of a Vanbrugh can really support such a balance.’113 The Careless Husband does suffer from being too wordy. The action of the play stops as the characters engage in conversations that do little to move the plot forward. Cibber does not have the same ability as Farquhar to rely on interesting dialogue to build a character. Instead, the long passages of conversation among the characters add a heaviness to the play. The plot becomes bogged down and difficult to follow, and the action of the comedy ceases. The characters in The Careless Husband do not have the same wit that is present in Farquhar’s plays. Instead of the exchanges between characters being interesting, informative and enlightening, they are dull and drag the play down. For example, in III.i Lord Morelove attempts to hint to Lady Betty that he is in love with her. L. Bet. My Lord Morelove’s really grown such a Churl to the Women, I don’t only think he is not, but can’t conceive how he ever cou’d be in Love. L. Mo. Upon my Word, Madam, I once thought I was. [Smiling.] L. Bet. Fie! fie! how cou’d you think so? I fancy now you had only a Mind to Domineer over some poor Creature, and so you thought you were in Love, ha! ha! L. Mo. That Lady I lov’d, Madam, grew so unfortunate in her Conduct, that she at last brought me to treat her with the same Indifference and Civility as I now pay your Ladyship. L. Bet. And ten to one, just at that time she never thought you such tolerable Company. L. Mo. That I can’t say, Madam, for at that time she grew so affected, there was no judging of her Thoughts at all. [Mimicking her.] L. Bet. What, and so you left the poor Lady? O you Inconstant Creature! L. Mo. No, Madam, to have lov’d her on had been Inconstancy; for she was never Two Hours together the same Woman.114

This scene is an example of how Cibber’s dialogue lacks the fast paced wit, ironic lines, and funny double meanings that gives the characters depth. Instead, these lines are flat and dull and do not reveal anything about the characters beyond what the audience already knows. The Careless Husband is riddled with such passages, and as a result, the play seems to drag with a heaviness that is in direct contrast to the light, effortless dialogue that takes places in the plays of Farquhar. Why was The Careless Husband successful and continually popular? Nicoll claims that the multi-night run was the result of the performance of Anne Oldfield as Lady Betty, a role that Cibber wrote for her. In his Apology, Cibber

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himself gives credit to Oldfield’s performance. ‘Whatever favourable Reception this Comedy has met with from the Publick, it would be unjust in me not to place a large Share of it to the Account of Mrs Oldfield; not only from the uncommon Excellence of her Action, but even from her personal manner of Conversing.’115 Hume believes that the popularity stemmed from the scarf scene, ‘The tremendous popularity of the scarf (“Steinkirk”) scene seems to have made the play. Its appeal lies both in sentimental reform, and in the air of genteel high life Cibber is so good at conveying.116 The play was also popular because instead of focusing on lower-class individuals participating in bawdy games, Cibber created upper-class people who were engaging in inappropriate behaviours and sexual indiscretions, and who were using genteel language while doing so. This cast of characters made The Careless Husband different and is one reason why the comedy stayed in the repertory and had lasting popularity. In the Steinkirk scene, Lady Easy’s behaviour is very interesting. When faced with a cheating husband, a proper English woman should ignore his transgressions. In Halifax’s ‘Advice to his Daughter’, which was written in the 1680s, George Savile, Marquis of Halifax, advised his daughter to look the other way when her husband had affairs. ‘Do not seem to look or hear that way: if he is a man of sense he will reclaim himself, the folly of it is of itself sufficient to cure him; if he is not so, he will be provoked but not reformed.’117 Lady Easy, while she did not confront Sir Charles directly, also did not ignore his behaviour. Her placing of the scarf upon her husband’s head represents two things: her concern for her husband (the scarf keeps his bald head warm) and the renewal of her position of authority. Lady Easy’s status in the household was undermined when Sir Charles decided to have an affair with her maid. Had he chosen an upperclass woman from across town the situation would have been different, but his sleeping with a servant in the household threatened Lady Easy’s authority. The scarf is an indicator to both Sir Charles and Edging that she is aware of their activities, and by not confronting them directly and causing a scene she demonstrates her upper-class status and breeding. This action has the desired effect, and Sir Charles apologizes for his behaviour. Ultimately, the play’s popularity was probably a result of many combined factors; regardless of the exact reason, however, The Careless Husband enjoyed a successful run and is an example of a change in direction of the comedy. Centlivre’s The Gamester opened at Lincoln’s Inn Fields in February. The exact date of the premiere is unknown – the Flying Post refers to 12 February as the opening night, and Bowyer, in The Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, states that an author benefit was performed on 22 February, which was the play’s twelfth night. Regardless of the exact date, The Gamester probably opened either in early or mid-February. Because of the lack of performance records, exactly how many nights The Gamester ran is not clear; from all indications, however, the comedy

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was a success. The Gamester entered into the repertory and was the first play performed when the company moved from Lincoln’s Inn Fields in April 1705.118 The Gamester continued to grace the stage throughout the rest of the century and was even cut down to three acts and renamed The Pharo Table for a benefit at Covent Garden on 4 April 1789.119 Centlivre claims that she wrote this play to teach people a moral lesson. She states in her dedication to the Right Honourable George Earl of Huntingdon, ‘The Design of this Piece were to divert, without that Vicious Strain which usually attends the Comick Muse; and according to the first Intent of Plays, recommend Morality, and I have in some measure, perform’d it; I dare affirm there is nothing Immodest, nor immoral in it’.120 She presents this morality by having Valere reform and swear off gambling at the end of the play and by having Angelica accept his heartfelt apology. According to Bowyer, during this time gambling was rampant in England. ‘Reformation was badly needed, for under Queen Anne and the Georges gambling was a national problem. Valere, the protagonist of The Gamester, gambles with dice, but cards and lotteries were also common.’121 Centlivre uses The Gamester to attempt to effect change. She based her play on the French comedy Le Joueur (1696) by Jean François Regnard. Some parts of The Gamester were directly translated, but Centlivre also added some original elements. She created the character of Lovewell to give the play the characteristic two pairs of lovers (Lovewell and Lady Wealthy, Valere and Angelica). She also made the character of Lady Wealthy attractive and reduced the attractiveness of Dorante in order to make the reconciliation between Angelina and Valere more plausible. The biggest difference between the two plays is that in The Gamester, the gambling addict sees the error of his ways, swears off the dice and marries the leading lady, whereas in Le Joueur, the gambler is ultimately ruined and Angelica marries Dorante. Centlivre states in her preface, ‘part of it I own my self oblig’d to the French for particularly the Character of the Gamester; but he is intirely ruined in the French; whereas I, in Complaisance to the many fine Gentlemen that Play in England, have reclaim’d him, after I have discover’d the ill Consequence of Gaming, that very often happen to those who are too passionately fond of it’.122 By adapting The Gamester, Centlivre uses the play as a vehicle to condemn gambling and to stress the need for reform. The plot of The Gamester focuses on Valere and his weakness for playing dice. His father, Sir Thomas, is disgusted with his son’s behaviour and the debts he has racked up living the gambler’s lifestyle. Valere is in love with Angelica, who tells him that she will only marry him if he promises to quit gambling. Valere promises, and Angelica gives him a diamond-encrusted picture of herself as a token. Meanwhile, Lovewell is pursuing Lady Wealthy, Angelica’s sister and a rich widow. She, however, is interested in Valere. Valere eventually slips back into his old vices and loses his picture of Angelica in a dice game. What he does

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not know, however, is that the person he lost the painting to is Angelica who is dressed like a man. He goes to Angelica’s home preparing to lie about what happened, but she pulls out the painting and tells him that she is aware of what occurred. Valere is full of guilt, repents and promises not to sin again; Angelica forgives him. During the course of the play, Lady Wealthy inappropriately sent Valere a letter and money in an attempt to gain his affection. Lovewell obtains the evidence and promises not to expose Lady Wealthy’s behaviour. In gratitude she agrees to marry him. The Gamester preached a clear moral message: gambling is bad and will lead to ruin. Hume believes this message was the key as to why the comedy was a success. In The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century he states, ‘Mrs. Centlivre’s tremendous success with The Gamester (February 1705) suggests audience receptivity to a well-handled didactic play’.123 Although Hume finds the tidy ending of the play to be improbable, he attributes the popularity of The Gamester to Centlivre’s skillful writing. ‘Secondary characters and intrigue are well handled in lively prose, offsetting the author’s determination to eschew “that Vicious Strain which usually attends the Comick Muse.” The result is a highly competent if entirely implausible exercise in reform and reclamation.’124 Bernbaum believes that the play’s success was a result of Centlivre’s ability to bring to life interesting characters and situations. ‘It was probably the merry intrigues of Valere and Angelica, which Mrs. Centlivre skillfully adapted from Le Joueur, that chiefly served to win the appreciation of her audiences.’125 Bowyer states that casting was the reason the audience enjoyed The Gamester. ‘For the first time Mrs. Centlivre had a star cast.’126 This star cast was led by Thomas Betterton as Lovewell, Elizabeth Barry as Lady Wealthy, and Ann Bracegirdle as Angelica. Although these actors were significantly older than the roles they were playing (Betterton was hovering around seventy, Barry was in her mid- to late forties and Bracegirdle was in her early forties) their talent and expertise must have been what accounted for The Gamester’s success. Many critics find The Gamester to be deliberately moral and didactic. Hume states in The Rakish Stage, ‘Plays like The Gamester (1705) … invite, even demand, tearful empathy. What makes them so unsatisfactory (from our vantage point) is not the reform, but the implausibility of such reform except as a pro forma convention.’127 Both Bowyer and Bernbaum believe that The Gamester is an example of ‘sentimental comedy’. Bernbaum states, ‘Mrs. Centlivre, most of whose plays are comic, made a moderately successful, but not a bold, experiment in the sentimental with The Gamester (22 February 1705)’.128 Bowyer claims that ‘The Gamester is Mrs. Centlivre’s chief excursion into the realm of sentimental drama. It was written with a consciously moral purpose, and it includes the repentance and conversion of a sinner, his resolution to be good henceforth, and his desire that other may profit by his experience. It shows the forgiving spirit of

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the persons wronged, asserts the goodness of ordinary human beings and accepts the view that happiness is morally right. It also introduces pathos and pity and indulges unnaturally in emotion for its own sake.’129 The Revels History also sees The Gamester as ‘sentimental’ and overly moral. The text even goes so far as to say, ‘The only good scenes are at the gambling house’.130 The Gamester does have some good scenes; there are funny exchanges between characters and witty dialogue. The overtly moral tone of The Gamester aside, the comedy flows well and there are several funny scenes. Centlivre uses comedy in The Gamester to lighten the tone of the play. Without these scenes, The Gamester would simply be a treatise against gambling. Often the funny exchanges take place between major and minor characters and are not directly related to the plot. For example, the character of the Marquess of Hazard is present for comic relief. He is a lower-class Englishman pretending to be an upper-class Frenchman, and he is trying to woo Lady Wealthy. Lady Wealthy, however, is not the only woman he has approached, and in an amusing scene she realizes how many different women the Marquess has pursued. (Enter Footman) Gives a Letter. Footm. A Footman in Green, Mousieur waits for an Answer. (Ex. Footman) Marq. Is this a time? let him wait at the Chocolate-House at St. James’s an hour hence – Oh, Madam, did you know how I languish for you! L. Weal. When did I give you leave to make a Declaration of your Love – Monsieur – pray, read your Letter, and give the Lady an Answer. Marq. I confess it comes from a Lady – but if – (Enter another Footman.) Footm. My Lady Gamewell has sent three times for you, and will not begin to play till you come. Marq. Alez Vous En Cocquin – Let her stay. (Ex. Footman) L. Weal. Insolence! What does the Fellow mean? Marq. ’Tis the greatest Fatigue in Nature to hold a Correspondence with Impertinence – but your Ladiship is the Reverse of – (Enter another Footman) Footm. Sir, the Lady Amerous begs the Honour of your Company this Minute, Sir Credulous is just gone out of Town. Marq. La diable t’omport – Out of my sight – Am I not Engag’d? L. Weal. Engag’d? Upon my Word you are not – What House is the place you Appoint to receive your Assignations in – Marq. No, upon my Honour, Madam – but I presume they have search’d the whole Town – and seeing my Equipage at your Door, were so audacious to send in their Message – but I’ll turn away my Footmen for this Embarisment.131

The con that the Marquess is running is revealed at the end of the play, when the characters realize his true identity. He is not a French nobleman; he is really Robin Skipp, cousin to Mrs Security and a footman. Centlivre uses exchanges like these to lighten the mood of the play. Another example is when Valere goes

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to Mrs. Security to borrow money, and he and Hector use liquor and flattery to try to get her to relinquish some money. Val. A Chair there, quickly. Mrs. Security, let us renew our old Acquaintance, and cement it with a Glass of Sack. Mrs. Secu. Oh, dear Mr. Valere! I never drink in a Morning. Val. What, not a Glass of Sack? Come, Hector, fill. My Service to you. Mrs. Secu. Pray, young Man, give me but a little. Val. Fill it up, I say. Mrs. Secu. Oh, dear Sir! your Health. (Drinks half) Val. What, my Health by halves? I’ll not bait you a drop. Mrs. Secu. Well, I profess it will be too strong for me. Val. Hector, does not Mrs. Security look very handsom? Hect. Truly, Sir, I think she grows younger and younger. Mrs. Secu. Away, you make me blush. Hect. Ah! she’ll have another Husband, I see by those Roguish Eyes.132

While most of The Gamester focuses on Valere’s addiction and his relationship with Angelica, there are moments that are funny digressions from the main plot. By including these scenes, Centlivre creates a nice balance between the moral message she is trying to preach and entertaining dialogue that makes the audience laugh. A few months after the premiere of The Gamester was the premiere of Steele’s play, The Tender Husband. Steele hoped that this comedy would be successful and help him to escape debt; unfortunately, when the play opened on 23 April 1705, the house was thin and continued to be throughout the entire five-night run. Steele collaborated with Addison on The Tender Husband and had hoped that this partnership would ensure a success. ‘In light of Steele’s financial necessities, his faith in the literary skill of Addison, and the genuine merit of the play, the first run must have been woefully disappointing.’133 Exactly why audiences stayed away from The Tender Husband is not clear. Kenny speculates that opening near the end of the season in April could possibly have been a contributing factor, however, the play does have some merits. ‘The sparse houses during the first run are inexplicable … Admittedly the April timing was bad; on the other hand the cast was excellent and the play superior to much of the theatrical fare. Anne Oldfield and Robert Wilks, in their prime, played Biddy and Captain Clarimont, and the two comedians Bullock and Pinkethman took the roles of Sir Harry and Numps.’134 Cibber attributes the failure to the fickle nature of the audience. He states in his preface to Ximena that the audience had a habit of heaping lavish applause upon an author’s first endeavour, not because the work holds any particular merit, but because of ‘mean Pleasure they take in swelling him up to rival the Reputation of others, who have writ well before him’.135 The audience then likes to condemn any subsequent attempts, and Cibber warns any

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potential authors, ‘If he succeeds in a first Play, let him look well to the next; for then he is enter’d the Herd as a Common Enemy, and is to know that they, who gave him Fame, can take it away’.136 This is what Cibber believes happened to Steele: after the success of The Funeral, the audience decided not to support The Tender Husband. Regardless of the real reason, however, the initial failure is especially unusual when compared to the growing popularity the comedy received later in the century. From 1705 to 1715, The Tender Husband was performed twenty-four times. From 1715 to 1725, the play was performed twenty-seven times, and from 1725 to 1735 there were forty-three performances. During its initial run in the 1704–5 season, however, The Tender Husband was short-lived, which was disappointing to Steele. The Tender Husband has a dual plot. Plot number one (and the titular plot) concerns Mr and Mrs Clerimont. Mr Clerimont feels as though his wife is too free with her affections. He gets his former mistress, Lucy, to dress as a man and flirt with Mrs Clerimont in an attempt to get her into a compromising position. Lucy, disguised as Fainlove, gets her alone, Clerimont rushes in on them with his sword drawn, and Mrs Clerimont weeps and begs for forgiveness. Plot number two (the larger plot) is a courtship comedy. Sir Harry Gubbin is trying to arrange a marriage between his son, Humphry, and his niece, Biddy; however, neither Humphry nor Biddy are interested in each other. Biddy is an avid reader of romances and admires the language and situations in them. Armed with this knowledge, Captain Clerimont woos her and she accepts his advances. Humphry pursues Lucy and marries her, thus ending his obligation to his cousin. Critics disagree as to the literary merit of The Tender Husband. Hume believes that this play is well written. He states in The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century, ‘This is Steele’s most Shadwellian play, and a fine one. For once he indulges the audience with humours and classic intrigues. Some of the incidenctal wit is very fine, as in Humphry’s reverse proviso scene.’137 Nicoll, however, finds The Tender Husband to be an ‘infinitely duller and weaker comedy’ than Steele’s earlier play, The Lying Lover. Bernbaum’s comments about this comedy are mixed. He feels as though the titular plot is the weaker of the two. He argues that the situation between Mr and Mrs Clerimont is simply a reversal of Cibber’s The Careless Husband, and that Steele relied too heavily upon Steele for this plot line. He states, ‘In this there is little that is original, or even progressive; the sentimental scenes, in comparison with those of Cibber, are neither long nor intense. Perhaps it was the failure of The Lying Lover that discouraged Steele from advancing farther in the new path.’138 Bernbaum feels, however, that the second plot is much stronger and has more merit in terms of originality and comic ability. ‘In the scenes enlivened by these characters [Biddy and Humphry], Steele displayed a comic power elsewhere unsurpassed by him.’139 Surprisingly, overall The Tender Husband impressed Bernbaum, as he claims that

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the comedy ‘is the most enjoyable, if not the best, of his plays’,140 indicating that despite all of the play’s flaws, The Tender Husband still has merit. While overall The Tender Husband is not as strong of a play as The Funeral, the comedy does have some eloquent scenes. The dialogue flows well in the conversations between Biddy and Captain Clerimont. Biddy’s obsession with romances and Capt. Clerimont’s indulgence in this obsession creates flowery exchanges. Captain Clerimont. We enjoy here, Madam, all the pretty Landskips of the Country, without the pains of going thither. Niece. Art and Nature are in a Rivalry, or rather a Confederacy, to adorn this Beauteous Park with all the agreeable Variety of Water, Shade, Walks, and Air. What can be more Charming than these Flowery Lawns? Captain Clerimont. Or, these Gloomy Shades – Niece. Or, these Embroider’d Vallies – Captain Clerimont. Or, that Transparent Stream? Niece. Or, these Bowing Brances on the Banks of it, that seem to admire their own Beauty in the Chrystial mirrour? Captain Clerimont. I am surpris’d, Madam, at the delicacy of your Phrase – Can such Expressions come from Lombard Street? Niece. Alass! Sir, What can be expected from an Innocent Virgin, that has been immur’d almost one and Twenty Years from the Conversation of Mankind, under the Care of an Urganda of an Aunt? Captain Clerimont. Bless me, Madam, how have you been abus’d! Many a Lady before your Age has had an hundred Lance broken in her Service, and as many Dragons cut to pieces in Honour of her.141

Passages like these are present throughout The Tender Husband. They are well written, flow from one statement to the next and are the play’s strengths. The main weakness of the comedy is the dual plot. The play is unbalanced in terms of the two story lines, which is not necessarily unusual, but what makes this fact stand out in The Tender Husband is that the titular plot is the one that is surprisingly short. Not much time is spent investigating the relationship and situation between Mr and Mrs Clerimont, and her remorse and apology at the end of the play is too hasty. Steele does not explore anything new in The Tender Husband – the situations are not unique, the dialogue is not unusual, the characters are not different. The result is a comedy that has a balance of strengths and weaknesses, and did not make an impact on Steele’s career. The 1701–2 through 1704–5 seasons were a time of experimentation, successes and failures for Farquhar, Steele, Cibber and Centlivre. Some of the plays these playwrights wrote were humane comedies, while others were returns to the old conventions of the past. While Steele, Cibber and Centlivre continued to be productive, throughout the 1704–5 and 1705–6 seasons, Farquhar remained silent as a dramatist. However, this silence would not be for long, and the next

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two seasons would see the production of his two greatest works, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem. These comedies indicate Farquhar’s maturity as a dramatist. He took his experiences (both good and bad) combined with what he saw his contemporaries doing and applied them to the last plays of his career. As a result, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem were two of the most popular plays of the eighteenth century.

4 SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENTATION: THE RECRUITING OFFICER AND THE BEAUX STRATAGEM

In the 1705–6 and 1706–7 seasons, Farquhar produced his two greatest works, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem. Several of the characters Farquhar experimented with in his earlier plays – Sir Harry, Angelica, Dicky – were the inspiration for characters in his newest plays. Farquhar also used the knowledge he had gained about plot devices and funny situations and applied them successfully to his newest works. As a result, both The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem had strong first runs and immediately entered the repertory. This chapter investigates the elements that made these plays so popular and argues that The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem are a result of Farquhar’s past experimentation. Kenny states in her introduction to The Recruiting Officer that ‘The laughter may have been more uproarious than in earlier plays, the stage business more boisterous; but the basic structure of romantic pairs and humorous triangles, of disguised trickery of one’s intended and one’s parent, of witty repartee above stairs and earthy, sparkling good humour below stairs, could not be considered new’.1 While Kenny raises an interesting point, I believe that Farquhar’s final two plays are a result of his earlier successes and failures. What he is doing is indeed new.

The Triumph of Humane Comedy: The Recruiting Officer The Recruiting Officer premiered at Drury Lane on 8 April 1706. The London Stage lists seven performances during the month of April, and 15 April is an author benefit. The only other performance recorded this season is on 11 June. Farquhar’s experiences as a recruiting officer in the army served as an inspiration for the comedy. Disappointed over the reception of The Twin-Rivals, Farquhar took time off from writing and joined the army.2 By 1704 he had also married a widow ten years his senior, and the circumstances surrounding his marriage could have come directly from one of his plays. Farquhar, finding himself in financial trouble, courted Margaret Penell whom he thought was a rich widow. – 85 –

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She allowed him to believe that she brought a fortune with her, and only after they were married did she reveal that, in fact, she had no money. Farquhar, no doubt disappointed at this revelation, attempted to support his new wife and her three children. He joined the army as a lieutenant in 1704 and soon after took part in recruiting drives in Lichfield and Shrewsbury. Recruiting men for the service was not an easy task. ‘The major problem was, quite simply, that recruits were not forthcoming, for by the time the drive had begun the harvest was on, and with employment readily available in the countryside few men were sufficiently desperate to volunteer for the army.’3 Recruiting officers like Farquhar also struggled with a high desertion rate. If a man deserted before being officially mustered, then the recruiting officer had to pay back any levy money (money given for enlisting) and expenses accrued by the recruit.4 The experiences and difficulties that came with recruiting were the basis for The Recruiting Officer, and Farquhar infused the play with some of his own experiences. Unlike most comedies of this period, The Recruiting Officer is not centred in London. In fact, none of the scenes takes place in the city; instead the play opens in Shrewsbury, and the country air permeates the action of the entire comedy. The Revels History states, ‘The first act is one of the most rollicking opening acts in English comedy; the dash and verve remind one of Dekker’s The Shoemakers’ Holiday or the opening tavern scene in I Henry IV. As the scene opens, the setting is rural, the characters bourgeois, and the tone is one of infectious optimism (a word seldom found in treatises on Restoration drama).’5 Farquhar uses this setting to indirectly comment upon the ways of London. The country innocence is best exemplified by Rose, while the worldly ways are represented by Melinda. Nicoll states, ‘The atmosphere is no longer the atmosphere of the town. We are out in the countryside, and, if the principal characters are city characters, we may still feel the alteration in spirit from the politer drama of Congreve.’6 Hume concurs, ‘All critics comment on the country “freshness” of Farquhar’s last two plays. Here the Shrewsbury air contrasts sharply with the “London” ways of Melinda.’7 The setting of The Recruiting Officer affects the entire tone of the play. The comedy has been called ‘fresh’ and ‘optimistic’, and there is also a general lightness and a feeling of good nature that makes this play stand out among its contemporaries. The general plot of The Recruiting Officer is the familiar courtship comedy. Worthy loves Melinda, but ever since she inherited a large fortune she has been treating him badly. Plume is pursuing Silvia, but after Silvia’s brother dies and she inherits his fortune, her father, Justice Ballance, orders her into the country and demands that she marry no one without his consent. This basic double plot, however, is the only similarity The Recruiting Officer has to other comedies of the time. Farquhar elaborates upon this familiar formula, turning the plot into something new and interesting. For example, Silvia, instead of following her

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father’s orders, dresses up like a man and joins the army. Kite, Plume and Brazen are in Shrewsbury to recruit more men for the military. Kite signs up Bullock, a country clown, and he and Plume flirt with Rose. After Silvia signs up for the army, she takes Rose as a ‘bedfellow’ in an attempt to stay in disguise. Justice Ballance realizes that the young soldier is really his daughter and convinces Plume to discharge her. Meanwhile, Brazen has been wooing Melinda because he believes that she is interested in him. He discovers that the letters of encouragement he has been receiving from her were really written by her maid, Lucy. At the end of the play, Silvia and Plume are reunited, and Silvia agrees to take Rose in as her charge. Farquhar once again used the same talented actors he had utilized in the past. Wilks was cast as Plume, and Cibber played off of him as Brazen. Bullock and Norris resumed their characteristic comedic roles as Bullock and Costair Pearman (a country man who is a would-be recruit). Jane Rogers played Melinda, and the role of Silvia went to Anne Oldfield, who by this time was in her early twenties. Some critics argue that one of the reasons for The Recruiting Officer’s success is the casting of Oldfield as the hot-tempered, foul-mouthed, breecheswearing Silvia. The Revels History states, ‘Moreover, [Farquhar] had personally discovered the actress he needed in Anne Oldfield. For this sprightly wench, he designed the effervescent The Recruiting Officer (1706) … The entire action is dominated by Anne Oldfield, playing Silvia, disguised as a man. No one is spared by her wit, as she controls the scene, costumed in a uniform of white trimmed with silver, and is the center of homosexual innuendo.’8 The character of Silvia is vitally important to the plot of The Recruiting Officer and is one of the features that makes the play a humane comedy. Silvia’s character is complex, interesting, and unlike any other female protagonist of this time. Although dressing in breeches is not unusual, Silvia’s behaviour while in breeches is. She is brash and aggressive with a quick tongue. Constable. May it please your Worships, I have a Woman at the Door to swear a Rape against this Rogue. Silvia. Is it your Wife or Daughter, Booby? I ravish’d ’em both yesterday. Ballance. Pray, Captain, read the Articles of War, we’ll see him listed immediately. (Plume reads Articles of War against Mutiny and Desertion.) Silvia. Hold, Sir – Once more, Gentlemen, have a care what you do, for you shall severely smart for any Violence you offer to me, and you, Mr. Ballance, I speak to you particularly, you shall heartily repent it. Plume. Look’ee, young Spark, say but one Word more and I’ll build a Horse for you as high as the Ceiling, and make you ride the most tiresom Journey that ever you made in your Life. Silvia. You have made a fine Speech, good Captian Huffcap – But you had better be quiet, I shall find a way to cool your Courage.9

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While in breeches, Silvia’s entire personality seems to change. Instead of being the dutiful daughter (which she is at the beginning of the play), she becomes the impudent rogue who is quick to insult people and backs up the insults with a sword. What is also unique about the character of Silvia is that early in the play she expresses a desire to be a man. Silvia. Pshaw! What care I for his Thoughts? I shou’d not like a Man with confin’d Thoughts, it shows a Narrowness of Soul. Constancy is but a dull, sleepy Quality at best; they will hardly admit it among the Manly Vertues, nor do I think it deserves a Place with Bravery, Knowledge, Policy, Justice, and some other Qualities that are proper to that noble Sex. In short, Melinda, I think a Petticoat a mighty simple thing, and I’m heartily tir’d of my Sex. Melinda. That is, you are tir’d of an Appendix to our Sex, that you can’t so handsomely get rid of in Petticoats as if you were in Breeches – O’my Conscience, Silvia, hadst thou been a Man, thou hadst been the greatest Rake in Christendom.10

When the opportunity to dress in breeches presents itself, Silvia takes advantage of it, and she is able to live out her fantasy of being a man. She tests the boundaries of sex and gender, and explores how men think, speak and behave. When her identity is revealed, she informs everyone that the reason she donned breeches was to explore her masculine side and to reaffirm that she was, indeed, a woman. ‘Do you think it strange, Cousin, that a Woman should change? But, I hope, you’ll excuse a Change that has proceeded from Constancy, I alter’d my Outside, because I was the same within, and only laid by the Woman to make sure of my Man, that’s my History.’11 This statement is curious because of the dual nature of the phrase ‘make sure of my Man’. Silvia is saying that her behaviour was an attempt to test Plume’s loyalty to her. She is also alluding to her masculine side and playing with the concept of female homosexuality by spending the night with Rose. By joining the army, picking fights and lying beside another woman for a night, Silvia was able to satisfy her curiosity about living life as a man. This type of character is unprecedented in earlier comedy and is one of the reasons why The Recruiting Officer is an example of humane comedy. Silvia is a culmination of many of Farquhar’s characters from previous plays – Leanthe, Constance, Angelica and Oriana. Like Silvia, Leanthe from Love and a Bottle also dresses in breeches. She does so as part of her plan to marry Roebuck. Leanthe is a clever woman who knows what she wants, and the disguise allows her attain exactly what she desires. Constance and Angelica are both very virtuous women who stand up for what they believe in and who are faithful to their word. Although Silvia’s behaviour is unpredictable, at the core she is a virtuous woman and a dutiful daughter. Justice Ballance asks her not to wed anyone without his consent and she gives her word that she will not. She upholds this promise throughout the play, and in the end Justice Ballance expresses a desire for her to marry Plume. Oriana, like Silvia and Leanthe, also dresses in disguises

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to attain what she wants. Her goal is to trick Mirabel into admitting that he loves her, and this she does by pretending to be a nun, pretending to be mad and by dressing up like a boy. The character of Silvia is reminiscent of Hypolita in Cibber’s She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not. Like Silvia, Hypolita not only dresses like a man, but becomes one. She manipulates the action of the play and pursues, woos and marries Rosara. Silvia and Hypolita both attempt to experience living like a man, indicating that Hypolita, like the other four women, served as inspiration for Silvia. Farquhar learned from his previous experiences and the experiences of his fellow playwrights, and the result was a character that adds a different perspective to the implications of the breeches role. Like Farquhar’s other plays, The Recruiting Officer has some brilliantly funny scenes. Two of the funniest moments in the play are the Kite as fortune-teller scene (IV.iii) and the courtroom scene (V.v). In an attempt to gain more recruits, Kite dresses up like a fortune-teller and pretends to tell people the future: Smith. Look’e, Doctor, Let me have something that’s good for my Shilling, or I’ll have my Money again. Kite. If there be Faith in the Stars, you shall have your Shilling forty fold. You’re hand, Countryman – You are by Trade a Smith. Smith. How the Devil shou’d you know that? Kite. Because the Devil and you are Brother Tradesmen – You were born under Forceps. Smith. Forceps! What’s that? Kite. One of the Signs; there’s Leo, Sagitarius, Forceps, Furns, Dixmude, Namur, Brussel, Charleroy, and so forth – Twelve of ’em – Let me see – Did you ever make any Bombs or Cannon Bullets. Smith. Not I. Kite. You either have, or will – The Stars have decreed, that you shall be – I must have more Money, Sir, your Fortune’s great – 12

Kite continues this charade to ‘predict’ that the men will be approached by someone and recruited to join the army. Meanwhile, Plume and Worthy are hiding under the table listening to everything that is said. So when Kite tells a potential recruit that a man will approach him at a certain time and address him in a certain way, Plume and Worthy take notes and plan to fulfill the prophecy. Kite even uses his disguise on Melinda and tries to convince her that he is in league with the devil, and that is how he is shown the future: Kite. Look’e, fair Lady, – the Devil is a very modest Person, he seeks no body unless they seek him first; he’s chain’d up like a Mastiff, and cannot stir unless he be let loose. – You come to me to have your Fortune told – do you think, Madam, that I can answer you of my own Head? No, Madam, the Affairs of Women are so irregular, that nothing less than the Devil can give any account of ’em. Now to convince you of your Incredulity, I’ll show you a Tryal of my Skill. – Here, you,

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Kite’s dabbling in the fortune telling con is funny, and the scene is witty and flows well. Another funny scene is in V.v when the Constable brings his prisoners in front of Justice Ballance. Kite and Plume request that the prisoners be allowed to join the army. Scale. Here, you Constable, the next – Set up that black-fac’d Fellow, he has a Gunpowder Look, what can you say against this Man, Constable? Constable. Nothing, but that he’s a very honest Man. Plume. Pray, Gentlemen, let me have one honest Man in my Company for the Novelty’s sake. Ballance. What are you, Friend? Mob. A Collier, I work in the Colepits. Scruple. Look’e Gentlemen, this Fellow has a Trade, and the Act of Parliament here expresses, that we are to impress no Man that has any visible means of a Livelihood. Kite. May it please your Worships, this Man has no visible means of a Livelihood, for he works under-ground.14

Farquhar demonstrates in this passage his ability to use language to create funny scenes that are full of wit. Over time, he has become better at writing comedies that move quickly and easily from one situation to the next. Farquhar’s The Recruiting Officer was even the source of inspiration for Brecht’s Trumpets and Drums (1955). Trumpet and Drums is an adaptation of the original play with several changes. Brecht almost doubled the number of characters and changed Silvia’s name to Victoria. The officers are recruiting for the American Revolutionary War, and the play contains references to Boston, the Mississippi River and Bunker Hill. Some things do remain the same (Victoria dresses like a soldier), but on the whole Brecht simply uses Farquhar’s play as a guideline. Trumpets and Drums does indicate, however, the influence The

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Recruiting Officer has on playwrights, and Brecht recognized the unique characters and interesting storyline present in Farquhar’s play. The Recruiting Officer is the culmination of many of Farquhar’s experimentations over the last eight years. Since Love and a Bottle, he has learned what works in comedy and what does not. One element of The Recruiting Officer that works well is the fact that there are no stand-alone scenes. The main and the sub plot lines intersect each other at some point. No characters or situations are extraneous. The result is a tightly constructed comedy where all of the scenes are connected. The Recruiting Officer does not rely on earlier comedic conventions. There is a basic courtship plot, but the character of Silvia, the setting of Shrewsbury, and the occupation of the men as recruiting officers make the play more than a courtship comedy. Farquhar even mocks the behaviour of young city lovers with his character of Melinda. Her recent inheritance has made her fickle, and her actions make her a centre of ridicule. Justice Ballance is peripherally a blocking figure to the relationship between Silvia and Plume, but his request that Silvia go into the country and not wed without his approval does not really threaten the relationship. There is no real familial conflict in this play, which also makes The Recruiting Officer unusual. Many comedies rely upon tensions between parents (especially fathers) and children – but this plot device is not used here. Brazen, like Sir Harry, is reminiscent of the fop, and Bullock, Costair Pearmain, and Thomas Appletree are similar to earlier Farquhar clowns like Dicky and Teague. Farquhar learned from his past experiences, and his ability to take old conventions and turn them into something different is what makes The Recruiting Officer an example of humane comedy.

Success Once More: The Beaux Stratagem The Beaux Stratagem opened at the Queen’s Theatre on 8 March 1707, and The London Stage records eleven additional performances throughout the rest of the season. These performances included three author benefits (13 March, 20 March, and 29 April), and two actor benefits – one for William Bullock, senior on 31 March and one for Henry Norris on 5 June. Throughout the eighteenth century, The Beaux Stratagem continued to have enormous success and was performed in London in every season except 1795–6. Kenny states, ‘Of all Farquhar’s plays, of all the comedies of the era, none fared better than The Stratagem. In all, it ran 632 times in London in the eighteenth century, an average of almost seven times per year.’15 Unfortunately, Farquhar did not live to see the success of his final work. A ‘romantic’ myth states that Farquhar died on the third night of the performance before he could benefit from the play’s success. This, however, has been proven false, and while the exact day is unclear, he probably died sometime

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between 18 May and 21 May, as the documented date of his burial is recorded on 23 May.16 Like The Recruiting Officer, The Beaux Stratagem also has two separate plots that come together at the end of the play. Aimwell and Archer are poor, but they are pretending to be a rich gentleman and his servant. Dorinda sees Aimwell in church and is quite taken with him. Meanwhile, Mrs Sullen is complaining to Dorinda that she is unhappy in her marriage. In an attempt to rouse her lethargic husband, Mrs Sullen decides to give him a rival. She flirts with Count Bellair before becoming smitten with Archer. Both men return the ladies’ affections. Aimwell and Archer learn that a band of rogues plan to rob the ladies, so they are present in the home when the thieves attack and successfully fend them off. Aimwell, overcome with guilt about his pretense, admits to Dorinda that he is not a wealthy gentlemen and that he is, in fact, poor. Just at that moment, Sir Charles (Mrs Sullen’s brother) enters and informs Aimwell that his older brother has passed away, leaving Aimwell heir to the family fortune. At the end of the play, Sullen agrees to release his wife to her brother, but refuses to give back her estate. Gibbet, however, has stolen the titles to Sullen’s land and given them to Sir Charles, and Sullen agrees to return Mrs Sullen’s estate in exchange for his own. Once again, Farquhar wrote his characters for specific actors, most of whom had worked with him before. Mills and Wilks played the lead team of Aimwell and Archer. Farquhar had cast Mills as Trueman in The Twin-Rivals, and Wilks had most recently performed as Captain Plume. Verbruggen, whose previous roles included Loveless in Love’s Last Shift and The Relapse, was cast as Sullen. Bowen, who played Teague in The Twin-Rivals and who was known for his Irish characters, was cast as Foigard. Dorinda and Mrs Sullen were played by Lucretia Bradshaw and Oldfield. Bradshaw had become a regular performer at the Queen’s Theatre, and Oldfield was making the switch from a breeches-wearing woman who enters the army to be close to the man she wants to marry, to an angry, unhappy woman who no longer has a desire to be married. Cibber was given the small role of Gibbet, a highwayman. Theophilus Keene, who had the major role of Justice Ballance in The Recruiting Officer, played the small part of Sir Charles Freeman, Mrs Sullen’s brother and the man who informs Aimwell that his brother has died. Farquhar once again utilized the comedic talents of Bullock and Norris in the roles of Bonniface, the innkeeper, and Sullen’s servant, Scrub (who was so named after the actor’s diminutive size). Many actors in the eighteenth century used The Beaux Stratagem as an acting vehicle. Wilks continued to be the sole actor to play Archer until 18 November 1721, when Lacy Ryan took the role. Ryan’s first documented theatrical appearance was on 24 December 1709, where he was listed as an actor in the Queen’s Theatre. He has a productive career performing regularly at Drury Lane

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beginning in the 1715–16 season, and he eventually moves to Rich’s company in the middle of the 1717–18 season. While at Lincoln Inn’s Fields he played many lead roles, which included Hamlet, Plume and Archer. Archer was also performed by David Garrick, who excelled at the part from 22 December 1742 until 7 May 1776. A talented actor with a long and prosperous career, Garrick performed many Farquhar roles, including Sir Harry, Plume, and on occasion, Scrub. Garrick used his intense style of acting to make these parts his own, and as a result, he dazzled the audience. The richness of many roles in The Beaux Stratagem made the comedy a popular choice for a benefit, which would account for the comedy’s frequency of performance throughout the eighteenth century. Many critics hail The Beaux Stratagem as a comedy unsurpassed in originality. Bernbaum compares The Beaux Stratagem to Centlivre’s The Gamester and Steele’s The Tender Husband, but he stresses that Farquhar’s work ‘far surpasses in delightful originality of action and briskness of dialogue’.17 The comedy was immediately popular with playgoers, has continued to be performed into the twenty-first century and is the play for which Farquhar is most often remembered. The Revels History makes the point that almost a century was to pass before English drama had another playwright with a special gift for comedy. ‘It is clear that George Farquhar took English comedy out of the London drawing room, and that he also took the road toward naturalism; it is even clearer that he wrote two comedies of enduring fame, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux’ Stratagem. A month after the premiere of his last work, Farquhar was dead, and the comic tradition of energy and amiable humour that he had so ably carried on died with him. There was to be a long wait for Sheridan and a longer one for Shaw and Wilde.’18 While The Revels History is correct in noting that Farquhar brought comedy into a different setting, the rest of his claims are problematic. The use of the term ‘naturalism’ is anachronistic and incorrect in its application (naturalism as a theatrical movement was not developed until the late nineteenth century). The claim that great writers of English comedy did not emerge again until Sheridan does not take into account other talented playwrights like Fielding. The Revels History also falsely asserts that the comic tradition started by Farquhar ended with him. The conventions Farquhar created had a lasting influence on the writers of the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth century – which is why plays like The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem continue to be performed. Despite all of the accolades, however, The Beaux Stratagem did suffer from a few flaws in plot and construction. The main weakness in the play is the ending. Kenny blames this problem on Farquhar’s terminal illness. ‘If Farquhar was, in fact, in his sickbed, sinking to his death, and if he wrote his scenes seriatim, weakness may excuse the improbability of his solution … The Sullens’s mutual consent, albeit intellectually satisfying, was dramatically inept. For the first time in his career, Farquhar used a dance to

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cover the confusions of a sloppy conclusion, a device other playwrights often stooped to use.’19 At the end of The Beaux Stratagem, the Sullens decide to divorce, an action that is against the law. Hume points out that ‘This is of course entirely illegal all around. The Sullens lack grounds even for a separation, and only parliamentary decree (for which there is no legal justification) could allow either to remarry, though most readers find a clear implication that Mrs Sullen will marry Archer.’20 Milhous and Hume stress, however, in Producible Interpretation, that the text is quite clear in its implication that the two are not paired off. They point to the finale where Archer says, ‘’Twould be hard to guess which of these Parties is the better pleas’d, the Couple Join’d, or the Couple Parted?’21 Milhous and Hume state, ‘The reference is singular in both cases: Aimwell and Dorinda have been joined, the Sullens parted. Nothing is said of joining Archer and Mrs Sullen, whether in matrimony (impossible) or “justifiable adultery”.’22 Farquhar based the idea that couples could divorce if both were dissatisfied with the marriage on tracts written by Milton, not on English law. His interest in divorce as a possible outcome for an unhappy marriage might have been a result of his friendship with Henry Brett (the man to whom he dedicated The TwinRivals). Brett had married the divorced wife of the Earl of Macclesfield, whose divorce trial was highly publicized and quite a scandal. The plot of the play may also have been based on personal experience; Farquhar himself played the fortune-hunting game and lost. His own marital situation could easily have been the subject of a comedy and may have inspired The Beaux Stratagem. Surprisingly, the impossible ending to The Beaux Stratagem did not stir much critique, despite the fact that some audience members might have assumed that Archer and Mrs Sullen were going to enter into a relationship. Hume states, ‘Yet this flight into the completely unreal has seemed attractive and satisfying to generation after generation of playgoers. There has been scarcely a whisper of protest about illegality, immorality, sentimentality, or what have you.’23 Genest reports that Oldfield felt unsure about the Sullens’s divorce, but Farquhar answered her fears with humour. Genest (reporting from a 1775 edition of Farquhar) states in Some Accounts of the English Stage that, ‘Wilks told [Farquhar] that Mrs. Oldfield thought he had dealt too freely with the character of Mrs. Sullen in giving her to Archer, without such a proper divorce, as might be a security to her honour – “to salve that,” – replied Farquhar, “I’ll get a real divorce – marry her myself, and give her my bond, she shall be a real widow in less than a fortnight”.’24 Farquhar was obviously not worried about the audience and critics accepting the ending of The Beaux Stratagem, and Kenny agrees that the illegal divorce ‘has never destroyed the critics’ appreciation of the rest of the play’.25 The strengths of The Beaux Stratagem far outweigh the weaknesses, and as a result, the impossible ending is often overlooked.

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Like Farquhar’s other plays, The Beaux Stratagem contains several funny scenes that give the audience insight into the characters. One example is in IV.i where Dorinda and Mrs Sullen battle verbally over who received the greatest compliments from their suitors. Both women are smitten by the men they are pursuing. Dorinda wants to marry Aimwell, while Mrs Sullen wants to use Archer to make her husband jealous. When the women come together, however, the result is a one-upping that quickly escalates to ridiculous proportions. Mrs. Sullen. You’re in the right, Dorinda, Pride is the Life of the Woman, and Flattery is our daily Bread; and she’s a Fool that won’t believe a Man there, as much as she that believes him in any thing else – But I’ll lay you a Guinea, that I had finer things said to me than you had. Dorinda. Done – What did your Fellow say to’ye? Mrs. Sullen. My Fellow took the Picture of Venus for mine. Dorinda. But my Lover look me for Venus her self. Mrs. Sullen. Common Cant! had my Spark call’ed me a Venus directly, I shou’d have believ’d him a Footman in good earnest. Dorinda. But my Lover was upon his Knees to me. Mrs. Sullen. And mine was upon his Tiptoes to me. Dorinda. Mine vow’d to die for me. Mrs. Sullen. Mine swore to die with me. Dorinda. Mine spoke the softest moving things. Mrs. Sullen. Mine had his moving things too. Dorinda. Mine Kiss’d my Hand Ten Thousand times. Mrs. Sullen. Mine has all that Pleasure to come. Dorinda. Mine offer’d Marriage. Mrs. Sullen. O lard! D’ye call that a moving thing?26

This quick-witted banter is typical of Farquhar. From this conversation the characters reveal things about themselves. Mrs Sullen, as a married woman, has engaged in sexual intercourse, and her responses are full of innuendo. She likes Archer’s titillating offers and is receptive to his sexual advances. Dorinda, as a maid, makes comments that are more romantic in nature. She admires Aimwell for the gallant things he did, like getting down on one knee and kissing her hand. Dorinda is most pleased with Aimwell’s proposal of marriage. Mrs Sullen, however, is sad that she is stuck in the institution and would not want any other woman to be in her position. As shown in this example, Farquhar’s talent lies in his ability to create characters that act like real people. Farquhar does not slip into stereotypes, and this comedy revolves around men and women who behave as people do in life. The Revels History states, ‘Instead of stereotypes, he moves towards naturalism in charting a predatory innkeeper, his wealthy and luscious daughter Cherry, highwaymen who know their legal rights on the scaffold, Lady Bountiful and Squire Sullen whose head aches consumedly’.27 Farquhar plays with the stereotype of the stage Irishman. Like Teague in

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The Twin-Rivals, there is more to Foigard than what is on the surface. Foigard is really Irish, but he is masquerading as a Frenchman. Aimwell and Archer, who are looking to have a little fun, reveal Foigard’s charade: Aimwell. And some of ’em when they’re old; – as for Example. (Takes Foigard by the Shoulder.) Sir, I arrest you as a Traytor against the Government; you’re a Subject of England, and this Morning shew’d me a Commission, by which you serv’d as Chaplain in the French Army: This is Death by our Law, and your Reverence must hang for’t. Foigard. Upon my Shoul, Noble Friend, dis is strange News you tell me, Fader Foigard a Subject of England, de Son of a Burgomaster of Brussels, a Subject of England! Ubooboo – Aimwell. The Son of a Bogtrotter in Ireland; Sir, your Tongue will condemn you before any Bench in the Kingdom. Foigard. And is my Tongue all your Evidensh, Joy? Aimwell. That’s enough. Foigard. No, no, Joy, for I vill never spake English no more. Aimwell. Sir, I have other Evidence – Here, Martin, you know this fellow. Enter Archer Archer. (In a Brogue.) Saave you, my dear Cussen how do’s your Health? Foigard. Ah! upon my Should, dere is my Countryman, and his Brogue will hang mine. (Aside.)28

This scene reveals Foigard to be something other than he is pretending to be and portrays Aimwell and Archer as jokesters. This multi-dimensionality of the characters is typical of Farquhar, and scenes like these make the men and women on stage appear more real. Kenny comments upon Farquhar’s ability to focus on the reality of life. ‘Restoration plays satirize bad marriages; their plots also prepare the way for heroes and heroines to wed on the basis of parrying well in the witty battle of the sexes. But they do not really focus on the grave reality of inescapable unhappy marriages. Farquhar does, most strikingly in The Beaux Stratagem … He allows glimpses at the true cruelties of the battle of the sexes … Farquhar’s world seems very real.’29 Over time and through experimentation, Farquhar developed the ability to put real characters and real situations on the stage. This ability is one of the main reasons why Farquhar’s last two plays were so popular. The characters of Aimwell and Archer are also examples of Farquhar’s talent with creating real people on stage. These men have two very distinct personalities, and they play off of each other well. Aimwell is a gentleman lover. When he first sees Dorinda he is struck by her beauty and goes to great lengths to woo her, including feigning illness to gain entrance into her home. He uses flowery language to get Dorinda to marry him, but in the end his conscience will not allow him to lie to her anymore about who he really is. Archer, on the other hand, is more of a rogue. He has a quick wit and a quick tongue, which suits him well in the servant role he is playing. Archer uses flowery language to try to get Mrs

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Sullen into bed, and he never expresses any guilt over the pretence that he and Aimwell are engaged in. The differences in their personalities can be clearly seen in III.ii, when Aimwell express how much he likes Dorinda after seeing her for the first time: Archer. Well, but hark’ee, Aimwell. Aimwell. Aimwell! call me Oroondates, Cesario, Amadis, all that Romance can in a Lover paint, and then I’ll answer. O Archer, I read her thousands in her Looks, she look’d like Cerres in her Groves and Purling Streams play’d on her plenteous Face. Archer. Her Face! her Pocket, you mean; the Corn, Wine and Oil lies there. In short, she has ten thousand Pound, that’s the English on’t. Aimwell. Her Eyes – Archer. Are Demi-Cannons to be sure, so I won’t stand their Battery. (Going.) Aimwell. Pray excuse me, my Passion must have vent. Archer. Passion! what a plague, d’ee think these Romantick Airs will do our Business? Were my Temper as extravagant as yours, my Adventures have something more Romantick my half. Aimwell. Your Adventures! Archer. Yes, The Nymph that with her twice ten hundred Pounds With brazen Engine hot, and Quoif clear starch’d Can fire the Guest in warming of the Bed – There’s a Touch of Sublime Milton for you, and the Subject but an Inn-keeper’s Daughter; I can play with a Girl as an Angles do’s with his Fish; he keeps it at the end of his Line, runs it up the Stream, and down the Stream, till at last, he brings it to hand, tickles the Trout, and so whips it into his Basket.30

The differences in these characters were also accentuated by the actors who played them. Mills, who during that season was also cast as Worthy in The Recruiting Officer, brought to the role of Aimwell dignity and experience, and Wilks infused Archer with the same charm and good humour he used in Sir Harry. With these two talented actors in these roles, the characters came to life on the stage. Like The Recruiting Officer, certain elements in The Beaux Stratagem, for example, the character building dialogue, the tone and the multi-faceted characters are what make Farquhar’s last play a humane comedy. In The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century, Hume states, ‘In The Beaux Stratagem (March 1707) he mixes the cynical and the sentimental even more strikingly … These plays are escapist, but delightfully so. They represent humane comedy at its finest. The sense of human nature which emerges is benevolently skeptical, neither cynical not saccharine. Farquhar indulges himself and us in the possibility of virtue, but without blinding himself to reality.’31 Kenny expresses the same sentiment. She states, ‘[O]ne must consider The Beaux Stratagem as with it Farquhar’s entire cannon in terms of more

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genial and general influences on later writers, those basic changes in tone, in plot development, in characterization, in stage business, that marked him as a writer of humane comedy’.32 Kenny goes on to list what she feels are the main elements of humane comedy. These include Farquhar’s portrayal of comic characters – instead of being the butts of satire, they are lovable eccentrics. His heroes, unlike the Restoration rakes, are more kind, more good natured and less dominant. Farquhar also deals with the seriousness underlying larger issues. In The Beaux Stratagem, for example, he explores in both a comedic and serious manner the harsh realities of inescapable unhappy marriages. These are the main contributions Farquhar made to the English theatre, and his experimentation and influence has had a lasting impact.

The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem: A Comparison Although The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem are both examples of humane comedy and are Farquhar’s best known works, they do differ from each other. The main difference is in the seriousness of the issues the plays deal with and subsequently the overall tone and attitude toward those issues. The main plot of The Recruiting Officer deals with recruiting practices and the difficulties associated with trying to get men to enlist and stay enlisted in the army. In The Beaux Stratagem, the most serious issues dealt with are marital discontent and divorce. When comparing these two plays, the consequences of the characters’ actions in The Beaux Stratagem are more serious than those in The Recruiting Officer. The Recruiting Officer also contains more humane comedy elements than The Beaux Stratagem, which is a direct result of the content the plays deal with. While in the military, Farquhar experienced the recruitment process firsthand. Getting men to sign up for the army was not an easy task. When Farquhar began seeking recruits the harvest season had just started, which meant that there was work available, and the men were not so desperate that they had to turn to the army as a means of making a living. If they decided to sign up for the army, the recruit would receive between four and five pounds. Unfortunately for Farquhar and the other recruiting officers, the risk of desertion was high and the recruiting officer had to pay back the levy money out of his own pocket. These were the problems portrayed on the stage in The Recruiting Officer, but these issues were handled in a humorous manner. For example, the country bumpkins Costar Pearmain and Thomas Appletree are potential soldiers, and Kite and Plume try different tactics to get the men to enlist. Kite tries to trick them into joining by giving them the levy money: Kite: They disobey Command, they deny their being listed.

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Thomas Appletree: Nay, Serjeant, we don’t downright deny it neither, that we dare not do for fear of being shot; but we humbly conceive in a civil way, and begging your Worship’s Pardon that we may go home. Plume: That is easily known, have either of you receiv’d any of the Queen’s Money. Costar Pearmain: Not a brass Farthing, Sir. Kite: Sir, they have each of them receiv’d three and twenty Shillings and Six-pence, and ’tis now in their Pockets. Costar Pearmain: Wauns! If I have a Penny in my Pocket, but a bent Six-pence, I’ll be content to be listed, and shot into the Bargain. Thomas Appletree: And I, look’e here, Sir. Costar Pearmain: Ay, here’s my Stock too, nothing but the Queen’s Picture that the Serjeant gave me just now.33

Plume realizes that the men are not aware that the money is in exchange for enlistment, so he decides to try another approach to get them to join. He chastises Kite for his sneaky attempts to get recruits and approaches the men under the guise of being a gentleman concerned with honour. Plume says, ‘A Dog! To abuse two such pretty Fellows as you; Look’e, Gentlemen, I love a pretty Fellow, I come among you here as an Officer to list Soldiers, not as a Kidnapper, to steal Slaves’.34 Plume then launches into his recruitment speech, ‘Come, my Lads, one thing more I’ll tell you, you’re both young tight Fellows, and the Army is the place to make you Men for ever, every Man has his Lot, and you have yours; What think you know of a Purse full of French Gold out of a Monsieur’s Pocket, after you have dash’d out his Brains with the But of your Firelock, eh –’.35 Plume appeals to their sense of pride, manhood and honour, and as a result, both men sign up for the army. Scenes depicting the struggle associated with trying to sign up reluctant individuals are common throughout The Recruiting Officer. While the problem is real, the way Farquhar deals with the issue is funny. As a result, these scenes are examples of humane comedy. The tone of the recruitment struggles is light. Plume and Kite are never in danger of losing large amounts of money, and the potential recruits do not get forced into a situation that they find unpleasant. The seriousness of the real situation is not reflected in the play. While real recruiting officers often lost a lot of money during this process, the audience never gets the sense that Plume and Kite are in danger of going broke. There are also no negative emotions evident. The characters are not frustrated, angry, or resentful of their situation; instead, they are full of good humour, charm and wit, and look upon each potential recruit as a challenge and an opportunity to try a variety of recruiting tactics. The issues dealt with in The Beaux Stratagem are also serious; this time Farquhar returns to the common theme of unhappy marriages, but he adds another element – divorce. Unhappy marriages are not uncommon in plays during this time, but the decision Sullen and Mrs Sullen make at the end of the play to

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divorce (illegal) is unusual. Throughout the play, Mrs Sullen expresses her anger and dissatisfaction at the state of her marriage. Mrs. Sullen: Patience! The Cant of Custom – Providence sends no Evil without a Remedy – shou’d I lie groaning under a Yoke I can shake off, I were accessory to my Ruin, and my Patience were no better than self-Murder. Dorinda: But how can you shake off the Yoke – Your Division don’t come within the Reach of the Law for a Divorce. Mrs. Sullen: Law! what Law can search into the remote Abyss of Nature, what Evidence can prove the unaccountable, Disaffections of Wedlock – can a Jury sum up the endless Aversions that are rooted in our Souls, or can a Bench give Judgment upon Antipathies.36

Mrs Sullen even compares her situation to slavery. She says, ‘Were I born a humble Turk, where Women have no Soul nor Property there I must sit contented – But in England, a Country whose Women are it’s Glory, must Women be abus’d, where Women rule, must Women be enslav’d? nay, cheated into Slavery, mock’d by a Promise of comfortable Society into a Wilderness of Solitude – I dare not keep the Thought about me –’.37 Mrs Sullen is depressed about her situation. She feels trapped in her marriage, and the only solution is to divorce her husband. Sullen, while he is not on stage as often as Mrs Sullen, still expresses the same sentiment concerning the marriage. He says to Sir Charles, ‘Fortune! why, Sir, I have no Quarrel at her Fortune – I only hate the Woman, Sir, and none but the Woman shall go’.38 The Sullens share a mutual dislike for each other and dissatisfaction with their marital situation, which is why the divorce at the ending of the play, while illegal, is mutually agreed upon by both parties. Husbands and wives who hate each other are not uncommon to the stage during this time. In The Beaux Stratagem, however, this plot is treated with very little humour. The scenes where the Sullens express how they feel about their situation are not funny; in fact, the situation is presented quite seriously. As a result, this element of The Beaux Stratagem is not an example of humane comedy. Humane comedy relies on quick, witty dialogue, funny situations and a light tone to discuss serious issues (for example the issue of evil midwives in The Twin-Rivals). The tone during these scenes is heavy and somber – Mrs Sullen’s depression over her situation is evident, as is Sullen’s hatred of his wife. Mrs Sullen and Dorinda do not engage in witty dialogue concerning the state of her marriage, and Sullen does not joke with Sir Charles about how he feels about his wife. The sentiment presented is that the Sullens feel trapped in their marriage, and there is no funny way to reconcile these feelings. The only solution that presents any relief to the both of them is a mutually agreed upon separation, which they do out of necessity for their own happiness.

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The Beaux Stratagem in Performance: Original and Stage Versions Although The Beaux Stratagem was one of the most performed plays in the eighteenth century, the version that graced the stage was radically different than Farquhar’s original text. Critics have freely commented on the tight construction of the play, the interesting characters, and the effective use of humour. Brian Corman, in The Cambridge Companion to English Restoration Theatre, states, ‘Farquhar does not do away with laughter, but he shows how well and effectively it can be manipulated without malice … Farquhar’s comic world provided a model for generations of comic playwrights, embodying the new, humane values without sacrificing laughter, humors, characters, physical comedy, love or sex.’39 What critics have failed to comment upon in any detail, however, is the fact that the version of The Beaux Stratagem that was being performed at the end of the eighteenth century looked significantly different from Farquhar’s original version. If one investigates the more than fifty editions that appeared in London, Ireland and Scotland over the course of approximately a hundred years, a pattern of revision emerges. Almost immediately following the initial run of The Beaux Stratagem, significant changes were made to the text, resulting in the fact that, despite the 632 performances of The Beaux Stratagem in London alone, only a small number were Farquhar’s original version. In fact, the play has been so greatly revised that Farquhar would have barely recognized the version that was published and performed at the end of the eighteenth century. While altering texts for performance was not unusual during this time, the changes that were made to The Beaux Stratagem shifted the overall tone and content of the comedy. The Beaux Stratagem changed from being a play that revealed the anger and bitterness that can result from being trapped in an unsuitable marriage to a lighter marital discord comedy where the spats get partially resolved with an impossible ending. While this drastic revision does not undercut the impressive performance history, it does raise questions concerning the division between the message of a play as intended by the author and the message as intended by the editors/stage managers/directors. The revision also reveals the changing sensibilities of the audience, and through the omissions and rewrites we get a better understanding of the political and social climates at particular points in the eighteenth century. By tracing the changes to The Beaux Stratagem, we can map the decreased interest in sexual wordplay and double-entendre and the move away from social commentary on the pain and suffering of being trapped in bad marriages. Farquhar meant his play to be a harsh criticism of a system that demands that men and women stay married and suffer in unhappy relationships. J. Douglas Canfield, the editor of The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama, categorizes The Beaux Stratagem as a subversive comedy, which, accord-

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ing to Canfield, ‘reveals fissures under the smooth surface of official ideology, even as the plays end in ritual celebration of society’s centripetal power – usually a marriage’.40 By the end of the eighteenth century, all of the social commentary and bite had been edited out, and The Beaux Stratagem became nothing more than a whimsical romp and a performance vehicle for actors. The more than fifty editions of The Beaux Stratagem that were investigated for this book are housed at Harvard’s Houghton and Pusey Library, and at Yale’s Beinecke, Lewis Walpole, and Sterling Memorial libraries. Throughout the course of approximately one hundred years, various publishers printed editions in London, Ireland, and Scotland including T. Johnson, S. Powell, J. Wenman, and R. Butters. Many of the key editions were published by Lintott – for example, the original 1707 edition as well as editions from 1714, 1724, 1728, 1730, 1736, 1748 and 1759. J. Rivington, et al. published significantly revised editions in 1760 and 1763. John Bell published several editions of The Beaux Stratagem, including ones in 1776 and 1791, and T. Lowndes, et al. also contributed editions in 1771 and 1776. The fact that company managers and stage managers continued to hack away more and more of the play indicates a changing sensibility throughout the eighteenth century. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, seemingly innocuous lines that had survived untouched for almost one hundred years were being changed or deleted altogether in the interest of having a product that would be suitable for the stage. The strength of Farquhar’s original play lies in its universality, ‘It was undoubtedly this play’s ability to appeal to all sides of the political, social, and sexual spectrum that explains its lasting success’.41 While previous critics are correct in stating that The Beaux Stratagem was one of the most popular plays in the eighteenth century, this statement can not be made without a caveat. The radical progression in the changes in the play serves as a map onto which we can graft the changing tastes of the eighteenth century audience. The most significant change to the text of The Beaux Stratagem is well documented. At some point during the initial run of the play, the part of Count Bellair was cut entirely. Kenny notes that the first edition to indicate the change was the 1728 Lintott edition, where a note at the bottom of the page in III. iii (Count Bellair’s first entrance) reads, ‘This Scene printed in Italick, with the entire Part of the Count, was cut out by the Author, after the first Night’s Representation; and where he shou’d enter in the last Scene of the fifth Act, it is added to the part of Foigard’.42 Because of Faquhar’s failing health at the time The Beaux Stratagem was being prepared for the stage, Kenny speculates that he could not have been very involved in these initial revisions to the text. She also hypothesizes that the removal of the character of Count Bellair may have been partly the result of the departure of John Bowman from the company.43 Kenny states, ‘Once again the theatre seems the most likely source for the revisions.

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Once again the revisions show convincing awareness of how the play would have worked on stage.’44 Bowman was known for his skill at playing foppish roles, and had performed as Sir William Mode in Susanna Centlivre’s The Beau’s Duel (1702). His leaving may have prompted the managers to cut his part from the text, although, since the size of Count Bellair’s part was so small, an inability to fill the role seems unlikely. The London Stage provides another possible reason for why the play was revised. In the entry on 26 August 1735, a comment notes, ‘The Reviser begs leave to observe, that tho’ he thinks the Chief Characters in this Play are drawn with a great deal of Life and Spirit; Yet that even in this very sprightly Play there are several very obvious Faults. That as the Character of the French Count, and that of the Irish Priest, are in no sort conductive to the Plot of the Play; they may therefore be look’d upon as superfluous.’45 Kenny notes, however, that there are some problems with this statement. In light of the date 1735, the ‘reviser’ must not have been aware of the fact of the play had most likely been performed almost since the beginning without Count Bellair, and if the reviser had a copy of The Beaux Stratagem printed after 1728, he (or she) would have been aware of the changes to the printed text as well. A more feasible reason for why Count Bellair was cut can be found in his brief appearance in III.iii. The dramatis personae describes Count Bellair as, ‘A French Officer, Prisoner at Litchfield’,46 and in III.iii he is empathizing with Mrs Sullen about the horrors of being imprisoned: he as a result of combat, and she as a result of marriage. The brief interaction between these characters gives Mrs Sullen the opportunity to further indicate how unhappy the state of marriage is to her. The comparison between being a prisoner of war and being a wife shines a harsh light upon the marital institution: Mrs. Sullen. Alass, Sir, why shou’d you complain to me of your Captivity, who am in Chains my self ? you know, Sir, that I am bound, nay, must be tied up in that particular that might give you ease: I am like you, a Prisoner of War – Of War indeed:--I have given my Parole of Honour; wou’d you break yours to gain your Liberty? Count. Most certainly I wou’d, were I a Prisoner among the Turks; dis is your Case; you’re a Slave, Madam, Slave to the worst of Turks, a Husband. Mrs. Sullen. There lies my Foible, I confess; no Fortifications, no Courage, Conduct, nor Vigilancy can pretend to defend a Place, where the Cruelty of the Governour forces the Garrison to Mutiny.47

This dialogue serves two purposes. The conversation expresses the sad state of Mrs Sullen’s marriage by using a prisoner/enemy metaphor to describe her situation, and it also hints that Mrs Sullen may consider having an affair in order to obtain some degree of freedom. The sentiments expressed in this scene are not only troublesome to the concept of women’s virtue and sexual aggressiveness,

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but Mrs Sullen’s statements also threaten the stability of the institution of marriage as a whole. The concept of women being unhappy in their marriage was not new to the eighteenth-century audience, nor was the threat of a husband being made a cuckold. What makes Mrs Sullen’s sentiments unsettling is the sense of hopelessness, anger, despair and depression she expresses as a result of her ‘imprisonment’, and the fact that an affair is possibly a valid attempt at happiness in her case. Count Bellair, of course, presents himself as a possible candidate to help relieve Mrs Sullen of her marital problem, but as a potential lover, he is unnecessary. Archer is a far more effective foil for these purposes. Count Bellair does, however, give Mrs Sullen another chance to critique married life and to push the boundaries of what are acceptable thoughts and behaviour for an upper class woman. Count Bellair’s presence in III.iii also allows for one of the most disturbing episodes of the play. During his aggressive wooing of Mrs Sullen, Sullen enters with his sword drawn prepared to fight Count Bellair. What Sullen is not prepared for, however, his Mrs Sullen’s reaction to his intrusion: Enter Sullen with his Sword drawn. Sullen. Hold, Villain, hold. Mrs. Sullen. (Presenting a Pistol.) Do you hold. Sullen. What! Murther your Husband, to defend your Bully.48

A woman pulling a pistol on a man is not a new plot device – one of the most famous instances is at the end of Behn’s The Rover when Angellica confronts Willmore, gun in hand, about his infidelity. What is new is the fact that a married woman is pulling a pistol on her husband, seemingly to protect her lover. Mrs Sullen’s act is a demonstration of her power (and possible desperation) and comes into direct opposition with the vows and sentiments that are to be upheld in a marriage. The disrespectful confrontation between husband and wife does not end at this point, as they continue to insult each other: Sullen. Look’e, Madam, don’t think that my Anger proceeds from any Concern I have for your Honour, but for my own, and if you can contrive any way of being a Whore without making me a Cuckold, do it and welcome. Mrs. Sullen. Sir, I thank you kindly, you wou’d allow me the Sin but rob me of the Pleasure – No, no, I’m resolv’d never to venture upon the crime without the Satisfaction of seeing you punish’d for’t. Sullen. Then will you grant me this, my Dear? let any Body else do you the Favor but that French-man, for I mortally hate his whole Generation.49

This exchange is full of vitriol and hatred. The Sullens do not just have an unhappy marriage; they are miserable and disrespect each other whenever they have the opportunity. Unlike many marital spats in other comedies written during this period, which are often undercut with humour, this dialogue is devoid of

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any good-natured sentiment or playful ribaldry, and therefore would have been shocking to an audience who attended a comedy in the anticipation of being humorously entertained. By the end of this confrontation, Mrs Sullen does manage to maintain her virtue, as she explains to Count Bellair that she had only pretended to like him in an attempt to fix her relationship with her husband. Sullen’s unexpected unconcern and disrespect, however, sinks Mrs Sullen further into a state of depression as she begins to contemplate divorce. Mrs. Sullen. Patience! the Cant of Custom – Providence sends no Evil without a Remedy – shou’d I lie groaning under a Yoke I can shake off, I were accessary to my Ruin, and my Patience were no better than self-Murder. Dorinda. But how can you shake off the Yoke – Your Divisions don’t come within the Reach of the Law for a Divorce. Mrs. Sullen. Law! what Law can search into the remote Abyss of Nature, what Evidence can prove the unaccountable, Disaffections of Wedlock – can a Jury sum up the endless Aversions that are rooted in our Souls, or can a Bench give Judgment upon Antipathies.50

This is the first time that divorce is mentioned in The Beaux Stratagem, and the audience sees the series of events that lead up to this decision. Sullen and Mrs Sullen do not get along. They speak harshly to each other, and they generally dislike each other. III.iii clearly illustrates the nature of their relationship and is an indication as to why the separation at the end of the play is necessary. The conflict in this scene may have been too severe for the audience’s tastes. Since this is the only scene where Count Bellair plays a major role (he also shows up briefly in the last scene of the play and makes a few inconsequential comments), for editing purposes it is easier to simply cut out the character entirely instead of rewriting the scene to remove the more aggressive sentiments. In the last scene of the play in revised editions of The Beaux Stratagem, Count Bellair’s lines are given to Foigard and are rewritten in Foigard’s Irish brogue. The removal of Count Bellair is the first major revision made to the play, and by taking him out, Farquhar’s harsh critique of the institution of marriage is significantly softened. The removal of Bellair also serves to undercut the spark in the character of Mrs Sullen. Mrs Sullen is one of the most original characters of Restoration/early eighteenth-century drama, primarily because of how she expresses herself concerning her situation, ‘Much of what is distinctive about the play revolves around the character of Lady Sullen … Farquhar complicates Lady Sullen’s standing with the audience by also giving her speeches in which the pains of an ill-sorted marriage receive eloquent expression.’51 By taking out these eloquent expressions of pain, the play’s message concerning unhappy marriages is also removed. Kenny notes that this amendment of the play first appeared in the 1728 Lintott edition, and the footnote at the bottom of the Lintott edition indicates that these changes were made after the first night. There were several editions of The

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Beaux Stratagem printed between 1707 (the date of the first edition) and 1728 – at least four by Lintott himself. What could account for the fact that over twenty years passed between the first altered performance and the first time the changes were in print? The answer probably lies in the changing nature of the audience’s tastes. In 1722, Steele’s The Conscious Lovers premiered. The play’s success marked a wide interest in comedies that were more moral in nature – where the men and women on the stage could be upheld as examples of ladies and gentlemen to be emulated. These examples could be revisited over and over again in the printed editions. An audience member who went to see a revised version of The Beaux Stratagem in 1728 would want to read a revised edition of the play. Economics and audience expectations may have fuelled the change in editions. According to Kenny, The Beaux Stratagem saw a steady increase in performances throughout the first half of the century. In the decade of 1710 to 1720, there were forty performances. Between the years 1720 and 1730, that number had jumped to ninety-four performances.52 The increased frequency of performances in the 1720s, combined with the growing interest in ‘sentimental’ comedy as a whole may have been the key factors to Lintott’s decision to publish an edition of The Beaux Stratagem that more accurately reflected the version on the stage that was attracting a rapidly growing audience. This decision proved fruitful as the numbers of performances increased between 1730 and 1740 to 106, and Lintott’s ninth edition of The Beaux Stratagem (1748) was joined by editions by other publishers both in London and in Ireland. The majority of the editions published between 1728 and 1763 include the italicized annotation as well as the listing of Count Bellair played by Mr Bowman in the dramatis personae. Beginning in 1763, however, additional revisions begin to show up in the text. Count Bellair is omitted from the dramatis personae in the 1763 London edition printed by J. Rivington, W. Johnston, S. Crowder and Co. The result of this trim is a cohesive edition where the characters listed in the dramatis personae are the characters present in the play. Besides this ‘tidying up’ of The Beaux Stratagem, a few other minor changes are made in the 1763 edition. In Act III, Archer sings a song to Dorinda and Mrs Sullen in order to entertain them. In all editions prior to 1763, the text states: Arch. I’m asham’d to offer you a trifle, Madam: but since you command me (Sings to the tune of Sir Simon the King.)53

After Archer has finished singing, Mrs Sullen offers him money and says, ‘Very well, Sir, we are obliged to you – Something for a pair of gloves. – ’54 In the 1763 edition, this song is cut, and Mrs Sullen’s lines are adjusted to accommodate the revision (her lines, ‘Very well, Sir, we are obliged to you’ are omitted). The song continues to be absent in post-1763 editions, which marks the Rivington, et. al as an influential text for later editions. In the 1763 edition, the dance at the end

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of the play was also cut. As Kenny points out, the dance was a hasty way for the dying Farquhar to cover up a slightly messy ending, and the cutting of the dance reinforces that it was not a vital part of the production. The reasons behind the adjusting of the dramatis personae, the trimming of the song in Act III, and the removal of the dance at the end of the play are most likely uncomplicated. Omitting Count Bellair from the dramatis personae simply rectifies an error that had been present since 1728 (the first edition where Count Bellair was cut from the play), and the purpose behind removing the song and dance was probably to shorten the performance time. The song and the dance are easy to cut without disturbing the flow or the logic of the play and would be reasonable elements to remove if theatre managers felt that the play was running long. While these revisions are fairly surface in nature (as in, their removal does not change the tone of the play), one revision made in 1763 is more significant. In Farquhar’s original version, Act IV begins with Mrs Sullen alone on stage, contemplating the sad state of her fate: Mrs. Sul. Were I born a humble Turk, where Women have no Soul nor Property there I must sit contented – But in England, a Country whose Women are it’s Glory, must Women be abus’d, where Women rule, must Women be enslav’d? nay, cheated into Slavery, mock’d by a Promise of comfortable Society into a Wilderness of Solitude – I dare not keep the Thought about me –’55

She is interrupted by a country woman who has entered looking for Lady Bountiful to give her a cure for her husband’s bad leg. Mrs Sullen, pretending to be Lady Bountiful, first chastises the woman for seeking a cure for her husband and then tells her: Mrs. Sul. … You must lay your husband’s leg upon a table, and with a chopping-knife you must lay it open as broad as you can. Then you must take out the bond, and beat the flesh soundly with a rolling pin, then take salt, pepper cloves, mace and ginger, some sweet herbs, and season it very well; then roll it up like brawn, and put it in the oven for two hours.56

Lady Bountiful then enters, and questions the woman about her husband’s leg. When the woman repeats her husband’s ailments, Mrs Sullen laughs. Lady Bountiful scolds her for laughing at other’s misfortunes: L. Bount. How can you be merry with the misfortunes of other people? Mrs. Sul. Because my own made me sad, Madam. L. Bount. The worse reason in the world, my daughter; your own misfortunes shou’d teach you to pity others. Mrs. Sul. But the woman’s misfortunes and mine, are nothing alike; her husband is sick, and mine alas! is in health.57

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Lady Bountiful gives the country woman a recipe for curing her husband, and the country woman exits before the entrance of Dorinda, followed by Archer. In the 1763 edition, this entire scene is cut. Instead of the exchange between Mrs Sullen, the country woman and Lady Bountiful, the scene begins with Dorinda’s entrance, and her line, ‘News, dear sister, news, news!’58 The elimination of this scene changes the entire tone of the beginning of Act IV. In Farquhar’s original version, the audience is given further insight into how unhappy Mrs Sullen is. By using such language as ‘abus’d’, ‘enslaved’, and ‘slavery’, Mrs Sullen is indicating just how depressed she is about her situation. She feels trapped in her marriage, and these feelings manifest themselves as both pity for herself and cynicism towards others. When the country woman enters looking for a cure for her ailing husband, Mrs Sullen’s suggestion that she chop up his leg and serve it for dinner, while humorous, hides her hatred for her own husband and her disgust for the institution of marriage in general. Mrs Sullen feels betrayed by what she thought was going to be a comfortable and pleasant position in society as a married woman (‘mock’d by a Promise of comfortable Society into a Wilderness of Solitude’), and her bitterness takes the form of laughing at others’ misfortunes. Her admission to Lady Bountiful that she is laughing at the woman in order to cover her own sadness reveals a woman who is deeply hurt, angry, bitter, lonely and depressed, and she blames Sullen (and to some extent society in general) for trapping her in this condition. The beginning of Act IV, as Farquhar wrote it, gets to the heart of Mrs Sullen and shows that she is a woman in a desperately unhappy situation. The tone here is barely humorous, and what little humour is present is undercut with bitterness. This short exchange among three characters goes a long way in furthering the characterization of Mrs Sullen. By cutting this scene in the 1763 edition, the editors completely changed the tone of Act IV. Decidedly one of the darkest moments in the play, removal of the scene lightens not only the act, but the play as a whole. Instead, the scene begins with Dorinda’s joyful entrance and continues with Aimwell’s playful scheme to fake a seizure just so he can be in Dorinda’s presence and hold her hand. By eliminating Mrs Sullen’s upsetting lines, The Beaux Stratagem is transformed into a playful romp instead of a funny play that artfully weaves in biting social commentary. Gone is the heaviness, the anger and the bitterness. Their removal leaves room to focus on the silly ways Aimwell and Archer try to woo the women they have their eyes on. By 1763, The Beaux Stratagem had already become a play that looked very different from the original version, and other changes were still left to be made. Such a significant revision of the text begs the question, why 1763? This scene remained untouched for over fifty years, so why might editors/managers have decided to cut it in 1763? This question will be explored in more detail later in this chapter. Suffice it to say, however, that the

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answer most likely lies with the most famous actor of the eighteenth century and the building of an empire. For the most part, the editions from 1763 until 1776 are nearly identical. However, in John Bell’s 1776 edition, a new set of revisions occur. Although these revisions are relatively minor in comparison to earlier cuts, the impetus behind the revisions remains the same. At the very end of Farquhar’s original version of the play, Sullen and Mrs Sullen declare a ‘divorce’ by stating: Mrs. Sullen. In the first Place I can’t drink Ale with him. Sullen. Nor can I drink Tea with her. Mrs. Sullen. I can’t hunt with you. Sullen. Nor can I dance with you. Mrs. Sullen. I hate Cocking and Racing. Sullen. And I abhor Ombre and Piquet. Mrs. Sullen. Your Silence is intolerable. Sullen. Your Prating is worse. Mrs. Sullen. Have we not been a perpetual Offence to each other – A gnawing Vulture at the Heart. Sullen. A frightful Goblin to the Sight. Mrs. Sullen. A Porcupine to the Feeling. Sullen. Perpetual Wormwood to the Taste.59

While these two individuals are not speaking kindly to each other, at the beginning of this exchange, the comments are fairly benign. The tone begins to shift, however, when Mrs Sullen calls her husband a ‘gnawing Vulture’ and a ‘porcupine’, while he responds by labelling her a ‘frightful Goblin’ and a ‘Perpetual Wormwood’. These lines are very insulting and degrading, and the inclusion of them indicates the venom these two people have for each other. In the 1776 edition, these lines are removed. By editing them out, the tone is once again shifted from one that is very biting to one that is lighter and more comical. To call a spouse silent or prating is one thing, but to resort to likening a spouse to a hideous creature is much more serious and reinforces that the play is a commentary on the harsh realities of an unhappy marriage. Like the 1763 version, lines are taken out in an attempt to lighten the tone of the play. While the snip here is minor, the fact that these particular lines were chosen for removal indicates a deliberate choice. Why might 1763 and 1776 have been the years in which these revisions were made? What is significant about these dates, socially and politically, that might serve as an impetus for these revisions? The possible connection may be two factors: David Garrick and war. In 1747, the thirty-year-old David Garrick, who, by this time, had already established himself as one of the greatest actors of his time, purchased the letter patent for Drury Lane. He, along with James Lacy, became the manager of the theatre beginning with the 1747–8 season. Over the course of Garrick’s twenty-nine-

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season tenure at Drury Lane, The Beaux Stratagem was performed ninety-seven times, with Garrick frequently playing the role of Archer.60 Garrick had a unique ability to intuitively know what his audience wanted, and he was frequently able to give it to them. The audience still had a taste for the sentimental, and as a result, Drury Lane catered to them with numerous performances of Cibber’s The Provok’d Husband (1728), Steele’s The Conscious Lovers (1722) and Hoadly’s The Suspicious Husband (1747).61 In this climate of sentimentalism, it is quite possible that the revisions of The Beaux Stratagem were an attempt to appease these changing tastes in the audience. Mark S. Auburn, in ‘Garrick at Drury Lane, 1747–1776’, notes that there is no evidence that Garrick himself changed The Beaux Stratagem in an attempt to soften the harsh sentiments expressed, however, ‘the evidence of some slight play-doctoring that Sheridan did to the Drury Lane version of The Beggar’s Opera beginning 8 November 1777 suggests that even Gay’s satiric work took on the softened patina of sentiment in later Georgian production’.62 Sheridan’s revising of The Beggar’s Opera one year after The Beaux Stratagem’s revisions indicates that such doctoring for sentiment was not unheard of, and it is quite possible that The Beaux Stratagem was revised under Garrick’s reign as he continually took stock of what the audience wanted to see and attempted to appease them. One other interesting factor to note when looking at the dates of the two major revisions of The Beaux Stratagem – 1763 and 1776 – is that they both mark banner years in English political history. In 1763, The Peace of Paris ended the Seven Years’ War with France. Great Britain emerged victorious from the long, strenuous conflict with one of their oldest enemies, and the result was the rise of Great Britain as the world’s greatest colonial power. Coming out of a long conflict as the victors would have had a positive impact on the British people. As they finally succeeded in defeating their centuries-long enemy and saw themselves poised to be the greatest political power the world had seen, people would have had a positive outlook of the future. While one cannot definitively state how a large political event would have impacted an entire population, one can safely assume that spirits, generally speaking, would have been high. Farquhar’s original scene at the beginning of Act IV expresses sadness, frustration and anger – all emotions the audience might have been looking to avoid. Therefore, by eliminating this scene, the tone of the play is lightened, thereby changing the mood of the play into one that would have been more acceptable by the 1763 audience. After the war was over, the British people would have felt like celebrating, and a lighthearted comedy would have suited their tastes more than a play with biting social commentary. The year 1776 was also significant in terms of war, as it marks the year the American colonists proclaimed independence from Great Britain, a move that was the result of several years of what the colonists felt was unfair treatment by

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George III and the British government. Theatre-goers would have been looking for a source of entertainment that would have kept their minds off of the turmoil. Edward A. Langhans, in ‘1776: A Critical Year in Perspective’ states, ‘The dramatic offerings in London in 1776 do not seem to have had much bearing on the impending conflict with America or on any other matters of great moment, for most play-goers did not want to confront reality, at least not in the theatres, or not yet’.63 The removal of the harsh insults at the end of The Beaux Stratagem can be seen as part of Garrick’s and the other theatre managers’ attempts to further avoid the reality of Mrs Sullen’s unhappy marriage and turn the play into purely a light-hearted comedy, devoid of any political or institutional criticisms. In the editions after 1776, the next major revision did not occur until the nineteenth century. The 1819 London edition published by W. Simpkin and R. Marshall is the version that is the least like Farquhar’s original. The title page states, ‘The only edition existing which is faithfully marked with the stage business, and stage directions, as it is performed at the Theatres Royal by W. Oxberry, Comedian’. As a piece of theatre history, this version is fascinating. The stage directions and the costuming list are printed in the text. Even more interesting is the fact that the edition that is kept at Yale’s Sterling Memorial Library contains hand written production notes. There are sound cues noted, directions for when to change the scenes and instructions on when particular actors need to be ready off stage for their entrance. Most importantly, lines of the text are crossed out and rewritten, giving us a sense of how edited the play was in 1819. In this 1819 stage manager’s edition, all lines that could possibly have been seen as offensive (no matter how mild) are edited out entirely or rewritten. For example, in II.i Dorinda and Mrs Sullen are talking about Sullen and his behaviour. In Farquhar’s original version, the discussion is as follows: Dor. … My brother is, first, the most constant man alive. Mrs. Sul. The most constant man, I grant ye. Dor. He never sleeps from you. Mrs. Sul. No, he always sleeps with me.64

In the 1819 edition, the words ‘sleeps from’ are crossed out, and ‘leaves you’ is written in the margin. Mrs Sullen’s line ‘always sleeps with me’ is also crossed out and is replaced by ‘never leaves me’ in the margin. This is just one example of the kind of micro-editing that is prevalent in this edition. Another exchange is crossed out entirely. In II.ii Archer quizzes Cherry on what he calls catechism. The subject is love. In Farquhar’s original, part of the exchange includes: Arch … Where does love enter? Cher. Into the eyes. Arch. And where go out? Cher. I won’t tell you.65

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These lines, which have obvious sexual implecations, are crossed out entirely in the 1819 edition, with no revisions suggested. When looking at the text as a whole, a pattern of increased censorship emerges. Any lines that are even the least bit sexual or offensive in nature have been either removed entirely or replaced by milder language. These types of revisions are different from the earlier manifestations. In the eighteenth century, editors were more concerned with eradicating lines that included social commentary or lines that otherwise detracted from the pure gayety of the play. In the early nineteenth century, censors became concerned with the sexual nature of the play and edited lines and scenes that obviously did not bother the eighteenth-century audiences. While it is impossible to definitely say why the changes were made, we can strongly suggest that the revisions reflect a larger social/political climate that was becoming increasingly more conservative. This increased censorship and the environment that drove it anticipates the Victorian era. Tracing out the series of revisions in The Beaux Stratagem serves to inform us of the changing audience’s tastes throughout the eighteenth and into the nineteenth century. Exploring the different manifestations of The Beaux Stratagem also allows us to add a caveat to the claim that the play was one of the most frequently performed plays in the eighteenth century. While this claim is undoubtedly true, The Beaux Stratagem that was performed shortly after the initial run already looked decidedly different than Farquhar’s original version. By the time the play was being performed in the nineteenth century, Farquhar may have had trouble recognizing it. Perhaps, however, the mutability of a play is what makes a play great. The ability to change, adapt and revise a text to appeal to a current audience is what separates a timeless play from merely a good one. In that light, Farquhar’s Beaux Stratagem proves that it has a timeless quality and has the ability to speak to and entertain an audience regardless of the century.

5 FARQUHAR’S CONTRIBUTIONS AND THE POST-1707 THEATRE

It is not often that we are given insight into how a writer thinks and feels about his craft, but in ‘A Discourse upon Comedy’, Farquhar reveals his opinions and frustrations with playwriting. Farquhar’s struggle to perfect his writing to such a degree that it would be economically successful resulted in plays that endure long after his death, and they had a lasting impact on the rest of the eighteenth century and English theatrical history. After The Beaux Stratagem’s initial run in 1707, the state of the theatre began to change. The union of 1708 decreed that all opera was to be performed in Vanbrugh’s new theatre, Queen’s Theatre in the Haymarket, and all plays (comedies and tragedies) were to be performed at Drury Lane. This move effectively ground the production of new plays to a virtual halt. With no more competition for the play-going audience, Drury Lane did not have to risk putting on works by new authors that may or may not be successful. They could rely on standard repertory favourites, thereby putting an end to the proliferation of humane comedies that had been flourishing in the past eight years. This is not to say, however, that there were no playwrights experimenting in their works, and in fact, the first few decades of the eighteenth century would see two significant humane comedies, Centlivre’s Bold Stroke for a Wife (1718) and Steele’s The Conscious Lovers (1722), and one testament to experimentation, Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera (1728). Farquhar’s impact and the importance of experimentation resonates throughout the rest of the century and beyond, as playwrights continued to move into developing new forms of comedy that would speak to their audiences.

Farquhar’s Theory of Comedy As a playwright, Farquhar had both success and failure, and as an essayist he gives his readers insight to how he feels about writing comedies. On 22 November 1701, Lintott published Love and Business, a miscellany of Farquhar’s poems, letters and prose writing. Included in this collection was ‘A Discourse upon Comedy’. In this essay, Farquhar discusses the criteria for judging comedies and – 113 –

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the difficulties associated with writing a comedy that aims to please most members of the audience. Underlying Farquhar’s essay is economics. Farquhar is a struggling playwright who, for the past three years, has tried to consistently write plays that would make a profit. By 1701 he had experienced one economic boom (The Constant Couple) and two economic busts (Love and a Bottle and Sir Harry Wildair). ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ gives the reader a unique insight into the mind of an eighteenth-century working playwright who is tinkering with his craft and simultaneously worrying about the reception his work will receive. His essay also punctuates the symbiotic relationship between the playwright and the audience and illuminates the difficulties associated with trying to please a diverse group. Although ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ reflects Farquhar’s voice and struggles, we can imagine that his frustrations were universal to the other playwrights of his time, which makes Farquhar the perfect lens though which we can view the writers responsible for the change in comedy at the turn of the eighteenth century. In ‘Discourse upon Comedy’, Farquhar deals with five main issues: Aristotle’s rules of drama, Farquhar’s own definition of comedy, British models for British playwrights, the importance of instruction in comedy and the awareness that an audience is watching a play. These issues are discussed in a rather haphazard order with no direct connection among them. Farquhar is not a philosopher; the statements he makes and the beliefs he expresses read more like the frustrated ramblings of a struggling playwright. Only Farquhar’s points about Aristotle and British models can be directly related to the works he writes later in his career. ‘Discourse upon Comedy’, while giving the reader insight into how Farquhar feels at that time about writing comedy and the theatre, does not illuminate how he creates his plays. Instead, ‘Discourse’ is a disjointed essay where Farquhar discusses many different theatre related issues and expresses frustration with a fickle audience. When Love and Business was published, ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ angered many readers, especially Farquhar’s belief that Aristotle’s rules of drama should not serve as a measure by which all plays are judged. What was also inflammatory was Farquhar’s statement that because Aristotle was not a playwright, he did not really understand the genre and what it means to create a play. Many people felt that Farquhar was defaming the great name of Aristotle. ‘Farquhar’s denial of neoclassical tenets reflected actual theatrical practice but shocked the sensibilities of the critics. To base critical doctrine on contemporary theatrical practice seemed intellectually wayward and eccentric; to do so after having succeeded excessively in the theatre was brazen.’1 At the heart of ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ is the belief that plays are strictly a form of entertainment; they are not great literature. The playwright needs to be concerned first and foremost with pleasing the audience. He/she must give the audience what they like, or else the play will

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fail. Therefore, the structural demands that critics like Aristotle place upon plays are not of the utmost importance, and more often than not, the audience is more interested in seeing something that makes them laugh rather than something that is structurally perfect. The ideas expressed in ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ were easily accessible to Farquhar’s audience, as he wrote the essay in a personal, friendly and informal style and infused his serious ideas with his sense of humour. Farquhar’s easy prose and overall tone opens up ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ to a more general audience. As a result, a wide variety of Farquhar’s readers were able to understand his criticisms of Aristotle and other great critics, and his argument that plays should be considered entertainment and not great literature. For example, in A Comparison between the Two Stages, the critics express their outrage at Farquhar’s essay. They are very angry that a young playwright would have the audacity not to speak favourably about the great philosopher: Crit. But prithee what does he say against Aristotle? Sull. He plainly says he was an Ass, and knew not half so much Poetry as he knows. Crit. A pleasant Quarrel o’ my Word: I never heard any thing so impudent: Can any body imagine this Fellow ever was at School that knows so little? Is his skill in Poetry so much superior that it shall contradict all others? What a Blockhead was Racine to spend so much Ink and Paper in vain then!2

Critick, Sullen and Ramble go on to criticize Farquhar and state that he probably has never read Poetics in his life, and therefore really knows nothing on the subject. Critic laments the treatment Aristotle has received. ‘Poor Aristotle! Thou art become an old Fellow; thy Gray Hairs discover thy age and impotence; here’s a young raw bon’d Stripling with a Gooses Quill has disarm’d thee, and thrown thee on thy Back. Thou know’st no more of the Muses for all thy talk, than Strabo knew of America, and why wil’t thou pretend, or thy Son Horace, or his Son Racine, or his Son Rymer?’3 Although Farquhar is not the first to criticize Aristotle and the idea of moral instruction in comedy (these issues are debated in Dryden’s Essay of Dramatick Poesie (1668)), his accessible prose and informal style helped to get his ideas across to a large audience, which may have been the reason for the negative reaction towards his essay. ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ is presented in the form of a letter. Farquhar presents a challenge to the scholar – write a play that will please the audience: Sir, here is a Pit full of Covent-Garden Gentlemen, a Gallery full of Citts, a hundred Ladies of Court-Education, and about two hundred Footmen of nice Morality, who have been unmercifully teiz’d with a parcel of foolish, impertinent, irregular Plays all this last Winter, make it their humble Request, that you wou’d oblige them with a Comedy of your own making, which they don’t question will give them Entertainment.4

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The scholar takes down his books by Aristotle, Horace and other classical writers and writes a play duly reflecting their influence. The scholar succeeds in getting his work staged, and although the play first catches the attention of the audience, their interest soon begins to wane: But the Audience, willing perhaps to discover his ancient Model, and the Athenian Drama, are attentive to the first Act or two, but not finding a true Genius of Poetry, nor the natural Air of free Conversation; without any Regard to his Regularity, they betake themselves to other Work; not meeting the Diversion they expected on the Stage, they shift for themselves in the Pit, every one turns about to his Neighbor in a Mask, and for default of Entertainments now, they strike up for more diverting Scenes when the Play is done.5

As a result of his flop, the scholar finds himself cursed by the players, railed at by the patentees and damned by the town. The booksellers refuse to put his play into print. Farquhar warns the scholar not to blame the failure of his play on the illiteracy of the age, because the audience is just as diverse in sense and in education as a classical audience. Why did the play fail? (And this is the statement that many members of Farquhar’s audience had problems with). The play failed because the structure was based on Aristotle’s rules – rules that are arbitrary and outdated. ‘All the Authorities, all the Rules of Antiquity have prov’d too weak to support the Theatre.’6 Farquhar makes the point that scholars who have not written plays (no matter how intelligent the scholars may be) should not try to set up the rules as to what makes a good play. Farquhar argues that although Aristotle is a great thinker, he did not write drama (at least there is no evidence that he did); therefore he should not be dictating how to write a successful play. Farquhar makes the relativistic point that he (as a man who has never preached before) could set up rules as to what makes a good sermon, but what might work for one congregation in one part of town might not work for another congregation somewhere else. Farquhar believes that Aristotle drew his principles from various successful playwrights during his time; these principles, however, are arbitrary. The evidence to support this claim is in the fact that not all plays that follow these rules are successful. Unfortunately, the strength of Farquhar’s argument is undermined by the fact that he misattributes Horace’s Ars Poetica to Aristotle. ‘But you’ll object, perhaps, that this is no parallel Case; because that Aristotle’s Ars Poetica was never drawn from such slight Observations, but was the pure effect of his immense Reason, thro’ a nice Inspection into the very Bottom and Foundation of Nature.’7 Farquhar continues to claim, ‘Now if his Rules of Poetry were drawn from certain and immutable Principles, and fix’d on the Basis of Nature; why shou’d not his Ars Poetica be as efficacious now, as it was two Thousand Years ago? And why shou’d not a single Plot, with perfect Unity

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of Time and Place, do as well at Lincolns-Inn-Fields, as at the Play-house in Athens.’8 Farquhar argues that there are no universal principles, and as a result, there is no formula for success or failure. One of the main arguments that underlies ‘Discourse’ is Farquhar’s belief that plays are forms of entertainment and not great works of literature. As a result, he rejects the notion of adhering to Aristotle’s rules for drama. As a professional playwright, Farquhar was concerned with how to write plays that would be popular with an audience and therefore earn him a living. Farquhar was relying upon his writing ability to put food on the table; therefore he was mainly interested in understanding what plots, characters and stage business filled the playhouse. He was not concerned with creating a work of art to be admired on the page but never staged. Farquhar knew that his attempt to appeal to a general audience gave the common man/woman a considerable amount of power over a play. He lamented the fact that an uneducated audience member could praise or condemn a play, which could affect future performances. ‘Poetry alone, and chiefly the Dramma, lies open to the Insults of all Pretenders.’9 The pretenders include everyone – critics, scholars, educated and non-educated audience members. As a result, Farquhar argues, drama is forced to submit to all judgments. Farquhar makes the point that a comedy can be uniform in terms of time and place, the plot tightly put together and the characters skillfully drawn, but if a common audience member says that he does not like the play, the word will spread that the play is bad and will fail. Farquhar begs the audience, if they must condemn a play, that they condemn the play for a reason. ‘If they [the author] have left Vice unpunish’d, Vertue unrewarded, Folly unexpos’d, or Prudence unsuccessful, the Contrary of which is the Utile of Comedy, let them be lash’d to some purpose … But if by a true Decorum in these material Points, they have writ successfully, and answer’d the end of Dramatick Poetry in every Respect, let them rest in Peace.’10 Farquhar’s assertion that plays are entertainment and not literature puts him in a paradoxical position. If plays were literature, the people making the assessment as to what is great about the work would be scholars, and therefore experts, but by making the claim that plays are entertainment, he puts power into the hands of uneducated audience members, and then laments the fact that the common man/woman controls whether a play is a success or a failure. In his essay, Farquhar offers his own definition of comedy. ‘Comedy is no more at present than a well-fram’d Tale handsomely told, as an agreeable Vehicle for Counsel or Reproof.’11 Farquhar claims that the only type of comedy that will be successful in England is an English comedy and is one that does not necessarily follow the rules of the ancient Greeks. He argues that England is a mix of people from many different countries, therefore there is a wide variety in what people find to be funny. ‘We shall find a Wildair in one Corner, and a Morose in

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another; nay, the space of an Hour or so shall create such Vicissitudes of Temper in the same Person, that he can hardly be taken for the same Man.’12 Farquhar believes that this diversity is the root of many of the problems associated with creating a successful comedy. Can a single plot please everyone? Can one comedy capture the entire audience’s attention? Trying to write a comedy for everyone is a challenge, but the person who can do this will write a successful play: To make the Moral Instructive, you must make the Story diverting; the Spleenatick Wit, the Beau Courtier, the heavy Citizen, the fine Lady, and her fine Footman, come all to be instructed, and therefore must all be diverted; and he that can do this best, and with most Applause, writes the best Comedy, let him do it by what Rules he pleases, so they be not offensive to Religion and good Manners.13

How does an author figure out how to please a diverse audience? Farquhar suggests that he do this not by studying the rules of the ancient Greek writers, but by studying the work of the great English playwrights like Shakespeare, Jonson and Fletcher. English playwrights are the best template for writing English plays. By using them as an example, an aspiring author can create a successful comedy. Another approach Farquhar adapted was to create many different kinds of characters. Farquhar’s last four plays contain strong women (Silvia), marriagehating men (Mirabel), evil women (Midnight), evil men (Young Woud’be), funny servants (Teague), naïve country girls (Rose), virtuous women (Dorinda), discontented wives (Mrs Sullen), overprotective fathers ( Justice Ballance) and many more. Each one of these characters is a reflection of a different demographic slice. By including all of these types of individuals in his plays, Farquhar was sure to reach at least a segment of his audience. Whether or not that segment liked the portrayal of the character on stage could not be determined ahead of time, but Farquhar hoped that by creating a diverse range of personalities on the stage he would please the majority of his diverse audience. In his essay, Farquhar also touches upon the importance of instruction in comedy. He believes that Aesop was the first inventor of comedy, and in his short fables Aesop was able to teach his audience powerful lessons. ‘Then where shou’d we seek for a Foundation, but in Æsop’s symbolical way of moralizing upon Tales and Fables.’14 Farquhar admires the eloquence with which Aesop’s characters spoke, and he claims that Aesop’s beasts were superior to some heroes in English plays. Farquhar also believes in the instructive nature of comedy. ‘And as he [Aesop] would improve Men by the Policy of Beasts, so we endeavour to reform Brutes with the Examples of Men.’15 Farquhar compares characters like Fondlewife to Aesop’s animals and states that playwrights need to create characters in a comedy that the audience can learn something from, just as Aesop used his animals in his fables to teach people lessons.

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In Aesop’s fables animals speak and the reader has no problem imagining talking beasts, and Farquhar requests that his audience approach plays with the same open-mindedness. During a play the audience is being told that the person on stage is Alexander the Great, or some other person from history or fictional character. Yet the audience knows that who they are really seeing is an actor who makes his/her living pretending to be other people. In order to enjoy the play, however, the audience must accept certain impossibilities. ‘And that the same Person shou’d be Mr. Betterton, and Alexander the Great, at the same time, is somewhat like an Impossibility, in my Mind. Yet you must grant this Impossibility in spight of your Teeth, if you han’t Power to raise the old Heroe from the Grave to act his own Part.’16 Farquhar also rejects the Aristotelian requirement that all good drama adhere to the three unities: time, place and action. He urges the audience to believe that the action of a play may take place over the course of several days, months, or even years, although the actors are only on stage for a few hours. Farquhar adds that the audience must be open to changing locations as well, since a play may switch from a scene in one house to a scene in another, or move from country to country in a single act. Only with this openness, Farquhar argues, can an audience truly enjoy the experience of going and seeing a play. Farquhar’s comments anticipate later theorists like Samuel Johnson and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Johnson, in his preface to Shakespeare criticizes those who refuse to believe the action on stage: The criticks hold it impossible, that an action of months or years can be possibly believed to pass in three hours; or that the spectator can suppose himself to sit in the theatre, while ambassadors go and return between distant kinds, while armies are levled and town besieged, while an exile wanders and returns, or till he whom they saw courting his mistress, shall lament the untimely fall of his son. The mind revolts from evident falsehood, and fiction loses its force when it departs from the resemblance of reality.17

Johnson, like Farquhar, urges the audience to use their imagination to understand that although they are sitting in a theatre in England looking at a play, the action on stage is taking place in Rome during the summer in act one and in France during the winter in act two. This concept continues to be discussed in the nineteenth century. In his text Biographia Litereria (1817), Coleridge coins the phrase ‘willing suspension of disbelief ’, giving a name to the ideas that Farquhar was expressing in his essay almost one hundred years earlier. ‘Discourse’ was the only piece in Love and Business to be written specifically for the volume, which means that the essay was probably composed in mid 1701.18 By this time, Farquhar had already had three plays grace the stage – one success (The Constant Couple) and two failures (Love and a Bottle, Sir Harry Wildair). He was familiar with the fickle nature of audiences and was probably

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remembering his failed sequel when he composed ‘Discourse’. Farquhar tried to give his audience what they wanted. In The Constant Couple, the character of Sir Harry was a success, and bringing him to the stage again should have attracted the same crowd. Sir Harry Wildair’s failure probably served as a catalyst for Farquhar’s reflection on why an audience flocks to one play and not another. He learned, as a result of Sir Harry Wildair, that recycling of previously popular characters does not ensure a success. After his failed sequel, Farquhar then decided to return to experimenting with different character types and plot lines in an effort to write comedies that connected with the audience.

Farquhar’s Plays: His Implicit Theory of Comedy Although Farquhar expresses his ideas about comedy in his essay, his actual approach to comedy as evident in his plays is quite different. Only a few of the issues discussed in ‘Discourse’ are reflected in his later works, indicating that the best way to understand how Farquhar approached his writing is to look at the plays themselves. Farquhar’s thought process behind his playwriting becomes illuminated when looking at each of his comedies in chronological order. The first play that Farquhar staged after ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ was The Inconstant. This comedy was based on Fletcher’s A Wild-goose Chase, and among all his plays, The Inconstant reflects most clearly the ideas expressed in ‘Discourse’. Farquhar makes the point that contemporary playwrights should look to Shakespeare, Jonson and Fletcher for inspiration, and that is exactly what he did. The Inconstant, while based on Fletcher’s play, is different from the original. As mentioned in Chapter 3, Farquhar reduced the number of characters from twelve to eight and added a different fifth act. He also focuses more directly on Oriana’s attempts to change Mirabel’s negative attitude towards marriage. By making these changes, Farquhar makes this story his own, possibly in the hopes that he can improve upon Fletcher’s original version. Unfortunately, his efforts proved fruitless. As a result, Farquhar abandoned doing adaptations and decided to take a different approach to playwriting. No doubt disappointed over the failure of The Inconstant, Farquhar relied heavily upon experimentation in The Twin-Rivals. The Twin-Rivals is unlike any other play of his and is unlike any other play during this time. While writing this comedy, Farquhar probably felt as though he wanted to give the audience something that they had never seen before. His theory that stated that in order to create a successful work, contemporary English playwrights should look to classic English playwrights had proven to be incorrect, so Farquhar decided to go in the opposite direction and write a play that was different from its predecessors. As discussed in Chapter 3, the good twin/evil twin concept was new to the audience, as were several of the character types (especially the evil midwife,

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Midnight). Farquhar was guessing as to what he thought the audience would connect with, and unfortunately, he guessed wrong again. Farquhar took a risk with The Twin-Rivals. He knew that his experimentation with characters had created Sir Harry, who (with the help of Wilks) endeared himself to the audience. Writing new characters had benefited him before, but The Twin-Rivals turned out to be too different. With possibly growing frustration, Farquhar wrote his next play, The Recruiting Officer. In this comedy, Farquhar tried a different approach. While many elements are new, these elements are interwoven with familiar plots and characters. With The Recruiting Officer, Farquhar hit upon a formula that worked. As argued in Chapter 4, the comedy is a mixture of the familiar and the experimental. The main plot is a courtship comedy (Worthy and Melinda, Plume and Silvia) with a blocking figure ( Justice Ballance), but similarities between this plot and other comedies of the time stop there. There is a balance between familiar characters (country boobies like Bullock) and new characters (Silvia). The play is also very tightly constructed. There are no extraneous scenes or characters and all action flows logically from one scene to the next. At the end the couples get together as expected, and all loose ends are tied up. This comedy offered the audience just what they needed. They could recognize common stage conventions, and from this safe position they were open to new elements. What Farquhar did in The Recruiting Officer was to go back to some of the basics behind the success of The Constant Couple. Both plays are a mixture of the familiar and the unfamiliar. Both have a basic plot, but with slightly different variations. Both include one character that shatters all stereotypes, and both have very unambiguous, tidy endings. With The Recruiting Officer Farquhar finally understood what appealed to the audience, and he was to repeat this in his last play. The Beaux Stratagem also combined the familiar and the new, and this comedy was Farquhar’s most popular play. Farquhar’s original text contained traditional plot lines (Aimwell trying to win the heart of Dorinda) and untraditional ones (Sullen and Mrs Sullen deciding upon a divorce). Structurally, this play is not as tight as The Recruiting Officer; however, the audience liked the play and the characters. Farquhar’s original version is also a mixture of a light and a heavy tone. Mrs Sullen’s and Dorinda’s verbal one-upping over whose suitor is the better wooer is infused with Farquhar’s typical upbeat humour. Some of the scenes where Mrs Sullen expresses sadness at the state of her marriage, however, are very dark in tone. Of course, there is a disparity between Farquhar’s original play and the revised version that continued to be performed throughout the eighteenth century, but the original version was a balance between old traditions and new conventions. The formula for success that Farquhar hit upon by the end of his career was very different from the ideas expressed in ‘Discourse upon Comedy’. Farquhar

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spent his entire career experimenting with different plots, characters and situations. His maturing as a dramatist and inventing new comedy elements can be traced from Love and a Bottle through The Beaux Stratagem. Farquhar tried many different approaches to comedy throughout his short career, and by experimenting and combining traditional elements with new ones, he was able to finally please the fickle audience. As a side note, Love and Business is useful in that the publication of this text helps us to date Farquhar’s only one-act farce, The Stage-Coach (which was originally published anonymously on 3 or 4 May 1705).19 The actual premiere of The Stage-Coach is unknown, and the first advertisement of the farce did not appear until 2 February 1704 (according to The London Stage). There is strong evidence to suggest, however, that The Stage-Coach opened sometime between fall 1700 and February 1702. One of the letters included in Love and Business contains a reference to Farquhar’s struggle and he attempted to write the play. The StageCoach is an adaptation of Jean de la Chapelle’s Les Carrosses d’Orléans (1681). Translating from French was a new endeavour for Farquhar, and he found the task to be difficult and frustrating. In his letter he writes: But now Madam, hear my Misfortune. The Angry Fates and the dire Stage-Coach Upon my Liberty incroach, To bear me hence with many a Jog From thee my charming dear Incog. Unhappy Wretch! at once who feels O’returns of Hack, and Fortune’s Wheels.20

While this particular letter is undated, one in the same series contains the heading, ‘Hague, October the 23rd, New Stile’. Farquhar was in Holland during the fall of 1700, and he was working on The Stage-Coach at that time. Farquhar collaborated on the farce with Peter Anthony Motteaux. Unfortunately, the extent of the collaboration is not known, but the style of the ‘Stage-Coach Song’ (which was set by John Eccles) matches others written my Motteaux. The Stage-Coach opened at Lincoln Inn’s Fields, and there is a possibility that Lincoln Inn’s Fields was attempting to steal the talented playwright away from Drury Lane; the lure was unsuccessful, however, as The Stage-Coach was his only play to open there. We do not know how many nights the play ran during the premiere, but the preface to The Inconstant hints that Farquhar was pleased with the farce’s reception, and that Lincoln Inn’s Fields was interested in having Farquhar switch play houses. ‘The New House has perfectly made me a Convert by their civility on my sixth night; for, to be Friends, and reveng’d at the same time, I must give them a Play, that is – when I write another; for faction runs so high, that I cou’d wish the Senate wou’d suppress the Houses, or put in force the Act against bribing Elec-

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tions, that House which has the most favours to bestow will certainly carry it, spight of all Poetical Justice that wou’d support t’other.’21 What happened politically between the time of The Inconstant and the premiere of The Twin-Rivals we do not know, as The Twin-Rivals opened at Drury Lane. Thanks to Love and Business (as well as the prologue to The Twin-Rivals) the construction and first production of The Stage-Coach can be somewhat pinpointed, and some of the frustration Farquhar expresses in ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ may be a result of his struggle with writing the farce. ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ does not foreshadow Farquhar’s approach to comedy later on in his career. Instead of forecasting the future, ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ gives his readers insight into how he feels about comedy at that time. The reader becomes aware of Farquhar’s frustration with his audience and with construction of plays. Farquhar also discusses the writers and theorists he holds in high regard and the ones whom he feels are overrated. In terms of learning about Farquhar’s frame of mind at the time he wrote ‘Discourse’, the essay is very useful. However, ‘Discourse’ cannot be used as the definitive guide to Farquhar’s plays as over time his approach to playwriting changed, and some of the ideas are a bit hard to follow due to the rambling nature of the essay. ‘Discourse upon Comedy’ should not be overlooked when considering the writings of Farquhar. Although not a blueprint for his comedy, the essay is useful to see how Farquhar felt at that time about the theatre, the audience, theorists, other writers and comedy.

Farquhar and the Eighteenth Century This study has explored the change in the dominant form in comedy that occurred between roughly 1695 and about 1707, with emphasis on the period of Farquhar’s career. I have argued that Farquhar’s work was both decidedly influential and, in its trajectory, something like paradigmatic. In barely a decade, his work moved from imitation of seventies-style sex comedy to the radically different mode he was exploring at the end of his life. The Constant Couple, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem continued to be frequently performed in the eighteenth century, with each comedy running more than 400 times in London. How many times his plays were performed by strollers and local companies and amateurs in the course of the century after his death is impossible to guess, but there can be no doubt that they were staples of the professional and amateur repertory. They were also reprinted again and again and again, right into the nineteenth century. At least fifty editions were printed in roughly a onehundred-year-period by such publishers as Bernard Lintott, who purchased the rights to both plays early in the eighteenth century, John Bell, who printed his editions from the prompt books, and Longman, Hurst, Rees and Orme, who

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published both comedies with remarks from Elizabeth Inchbald in 1808. With this type of visibility, Farquhar became a part of English culture. Most theatregoing people or any educated Londoner interested in comedy would have seen the plays in performance, or read them, or both. We may ask, therefore, what contributions Farquhar made to comedy of the eighteenth century, why his plays continued to be so tremendously popular, and how his plays were used by actors and theatre companies. One reason for his influence was, of course, the relative paucity of new plays in the first two decades after his death. What became of humane comedy? Were there any playwrights continuing to write humane comedies into the mid-eighteenth century? Farquhar’s best comedies became fixtures in the theatres’ repertories and were performed over and over again throughout the century. Proof of their enduring popularity and appeal is the frequency with which actors chose them as benefit pieces. The years between the actors’ rebellion of 1695 and the union of 1708 were hard ones for the two struggling companies, which encountered severe audience resistance to the norms of Carolean comedy, especially when those norms were employed in new plays.22 The revival of competition in 1695 encouraged a burst of experimentation that generated the flock of ‘perennial favorites’ by Congreve, Vanbrugh, Cibber, Farquhar and Steele that moved away from seventies norms and were (with Shakespeare) to form the backbone of the repertory for fully half a century. The dominance of these plays was, of course, assisted by the relative scarcity of new plays mounted between 1708 and 1728 (when The Beggar’s Opera initiated a boom in playwriting). New mainpieces were then few and far between for upwards of fifteen years after the abrupt and enforced limitation of theatrical activity caused by the Licensing Act of 1737. Since the works by these authors were performed over and over again, they served as an inspiration for many eighteenth-century playwrights. Kenny states in her article ‘Perennial Favorites’, ‘If they influenced later dramatists and novelists, it was not only because they were fresh and vital, as the best of them were, but because they were so visible on stage and in print that they were almost inescapable’.23 Farquhar and Cibber (if The Provoked Husband is attributed to him) were the most popular playwrights in terms of number of performances. In Kenny’s edition of Farquhar’s works, she lists the number of performances his plays received throughout the eighteenth century. In London, The Constant Couple ran more than 400 times, The Recruiting Officer was performed 512 times and The Beaux Stratagem ran 632 times. Farquhar’s plays were the most popular between the years 1740 and 1750. During this decade, The Constant Couple had over eighty performances and both The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem had over one hundred.24 By mid-century, Vanbrugh’s plays began to seem alarmingly crude in sexual/moral terms, hence they began to slip out of the

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repertory, or to seem to require revamping of the sort performed by Sheridan when he turned The Relapse into A Trip to Scarborough (1777). To what degree stage popularity contributed to print popularity is now impossible to determine, but the degree of print popularity is a matter of documented fact. Kenny comments, ‘Not only were the comedies popular on stage, but editions of them must have sold well, for they were issued with astonishing frequency in the eighteenth century, and the publication of them accelerated with passing time as the book business expanded. The Beaux Stratagem, for example, saw some forty editions in Great Britain before the century’s end.’25 The Recruiting Officer was also a favourite of publishers and enjoyed several editions throughout the century. Widespread familiarity with Farquhar’s works is evident in the way lines from and allusions to The Recruiting Officer or The Beaux Stratagem could be inserted into letters and diaries with little or no explanation. For example, James Boswell records a dinner conversation with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, ‘He [Sheridan] observed that the bishops in particular were the great enemies of merit. That if a man could write well, they were of Captain Plume’s opinion about the attorney: “A dangerous man; discharge him, discharge him”.’26 Boswell also describes a man who ‘strutted with the step of Costar Pearmain in The Recruiting Officer’,27 and he uses the play as a reference when describing his feelings for Louisa Lewis, an actress. ‘As Captain Plume says, the best security for a woman’s mind is her body. I really conducted this affair with a manliness and prudence that pleased me very much.’28 From very early in the century Farquhar’s plays had become a part of popular culture, something educated young people would encounter and become familiar with. Thus, in 1728, at the age of eleven, Garrick mounted a production of The Recruiting Officer in Lichfield, where he played the role of Kite: After he had made some trail of his own and his companions abilities, and prevailed upon the parents to give their consent, he pitched upon the Recruiting Officer for the play. He assembled his little company in a large room, the destined place of representation: there we may suppose our your Bays distributed the several characters according to the merits of the performers. He prevailed on one of his sisters to play the part of the Chamber-made; Serjeant Kite, a character of busy intrigue and bold humour, he chose for himself.29

Farquhar’s plays had so permeated the eighteenth century that they not only became familiar sights on stage, but also became metaphors that could be used effectively in writing and everyday conversations. His characters had become recognized types. Several of Farquhar’s characters provided major actors with vehicles they became closely associated with – and later playwrights picked up on them as

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models, perhaps more in type than in direct imitation. Robert Wilks’s triumph as Sir Harry Wildair was such that he virtually owned the part for the rest of his career. Not even a great actor like Garrick could shake the Wilks/Sir Harry association. Garrick took the role once and failed to make the part his own. After Wilks’s death in 1732, the actress Peg Woffington attempted Sir Harry on 21 November 1740 and ushered in a new era of Sir Harry interpretations. Kenny states, ‘Novelty obviously precipitated interest. Breeches roles for women were common, and Woffington herself excelled in them. But as Sir Harry, she was not acting the role of a woman in disguise; she was portraying a man. Apparently she played the role straight, and the audience was enchanted not by a travesty but by a genuinely fine performance of a male role … So completely did she captivate audiences that she played the role for ten consecutive nights, then performed it another five times during the season and regularly thereafter.’30 Woffington continued as Sir Harry for the next twenty years, and while others occasionally took the part, no one could equal her popularity. The Constant Couple also helped to make the career of Henry ‘Jubilee Dicky’ Norris. As a result of his portrayal of Dicky, Norris became one of the most popular comedic actors of the early eighteenth century until his death in 1731. Most of his roles throughout the rest of his career, however, were similar character types, for example Trapland in Love for Love and Lory in The Relapse. Unlike Wilks in The Constant Couple, no one actor seemed to dominate any particular role in The Recruiting Officer. As a result, many actors have played the parts of Plume, Kite and Silvia, and the play was often used for actor benefits. Plume became a favourite throughout the eighteenth century; the list of both men and women who have attempted the role is long and include such names as Bickerstaff, Ryan, Garrick and Charlotte Charke. ‘The mere list evokes all the trends and quirks of the eighteenth-century stage, from the delight in amateurs to the admiration for the great, the vogue for females in male roles, and the selection of vehicles to introduce newly acquired actors to a theatre.’31 An equally large number of people played Kite and Silvia. Pack, Fairbank and Pinkethman all portrayed Kite, and great actresses like Woffington portrayed Silvia. The main roles were not the only ones to attract great names; for example, Garrick once played Costar Pearmain, and on another occasion Captain Plume – though the part in which he was to attract special praise was Scrub. As the most performed Farquhar play in the eighteenth century, The Beaux Stratagem offered plenty of opportunities for actors to showcase their talents. Kenny states, ‘Like The Recruiting Officer, The Stratagem proved a great favourite for benefits nights: 194 of the 632 eighteenth-century performances, more than 30 per cent, were benefits’.32 Wilks dominated as Archer for many years, though Ryan began playing the role at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The two competed with virtually no other challengers, until Giffard was cast as Archer in 1729 at

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Goodman’s Fields. Later Archers included Mills, Garrick and Charke. Woffington often took the role of Mrs Sullen, although on 30 March 1745 she played Cherry opposite Garrick’s Archer – a part he was to perform 100 times in his career (the fifth-highest total among his 96 parts).33 Mrs Sullen, Scrub and Bonniface also attracted a wide variety of actors, once again reflecting the varying tastes and staging practices of the eighteenth century. The Beaux Stratagem contains a variety of interesting characters that appealed to all types of actors and actresses. ‘Few plays of the period, or in fact of any period, contain as many choice parts as The Stratagem – perhaps the richness of the roles explains in part its popularity as a benefit piece.’34 All three of Farquhar’s most popular plays captured the attention of eighteenth-century actors. Many experts had their favourite Farquhar character they liked to play, and many amateurs saw playing a Farquhar character as a chance to get noticed. Farquhar’s influence on the eighteenth century was significant in that he gave actors a vehicle through which to display their comedic skills. Farquhar’s influence also went beyond being a popular choice for actors. The Constant Couple, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem were so well known by the theatrical companies that any of the comedies could be put up at a moment’s notice. These plays were the standbys – not only did the company know that the audience would like the play, but these comedies also required very little preparation. The actors knew them so well that all parts were already memorized. If, for some reason, the play that was scheduled to perform fell through, the actors could, at the last minute, grab the costumes for The Beaux Stratagem and put that comedy on instead. The audience often knew the play as well as the actors. After several performances, the story of the play was no longer important, and the audience attended to see their favourite actors in their favourite roles. ‘The constant performance of these stock plays made them so familiar to audiences that they came to know them virtually word for word almost as well as the actors did … The result of it was a decrease of interest in unfolding of the narrative of the play and a consequent rise of interest in the acting.’35 This familiarity continued and contributes to the importance of Farquhar in the theatre throughout the eighteenth century.

The State of the Post-1707 Theatre What happened in the early eighteenth-century theatre that helped establish the turn-of-the-century plays as the basis for both companies’ repertory? Why were they not supplanted by successors? The answer lies in theatre history rather than in the history of drama per se. The production of new comedies greatly decreased after 1707, largely on account of events following from the theatrical union of 1708. The turmoil that was behind the stagnation of drama began as

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early as the 1705–6 season. Lincoln’s Inn Fields was abandoned in April of 1705, and Vanbrugh and his company moved to his new theatre, Queen’s Theatre in the Haymarket, in October. On 30 October, they opened with Vanbrugh’s The Confederacy, which was a success and sparked a renewal in theatrical competition. Vanbrugh had raised the money to construct his fancy new playhouse on the assumption that he would be able to unite the two companies and enjoy a profitable monopoly. He made strenuous efforts to engineer a union in 1705 and 1706, but was fiercely resisted by Christopher Rich and the actors at Drury Lane, who loathed Rich but realised that a union would put many of them out of work.36 Frustrated by a complete stalemate in negotiations, Vanbrugh decided to settle for the present for a genre split, preferably with music and dance at The Queen’s Theatre and spoken plays at Drury Lane. However, Rich refused to yield the rights to musical entertainment, and Vanbrugh had to be content to give up music, dance and opera, with the consolation that he was allowed to hire most of Rich’s best actors, including Robert Wilks and Anne Oldfield. Both theatres retained the right to perform plays. In this agreement, Rich had the financial advantage as the entr’acte singing and dancing was a big audience draw, despite the weakness of his acting troupe. The first season under this agreement was 1706–7. During this season, Drury Lane only performed twenty-five shows on eighty-nine nights – an all-time low for the company. The Queen’s Theatre fared much better and enjoyed a major hit with The Beaux Stratagem. On 31 December, the Lord Chamberlain issued an order that stated that all actors working at the Queen’s Theatre must return to Drury Lane, with a monopoly on opera given to Vanbrugh at the Haymarket. This decree put an end to competition since the two theatres were now strictly divided along genre lines. Without any competition, Rich did not need to take the chance on performing new plays. New plays were risky – they might be a success or they might be a costly flop. They were time-consuming to mount – actors had to memorize new parts. They could also be costly if new scenery were built, or new costumes made. With competition eliminated, Rich could rely upon old repertory favourites: only three new plays appeared during the 1707–8 season – Goring’s Irene or the Fair Greek, Theobald’s Persian Princess and Taverner’s Maid’s the Mistress – all of which were failures. The season 1708–9 saw yet another change in the theatres. Rich’s dubious business practices finally caught up with him when the Lord Chamberlain silenced Drury Lane in June 1709. The silencing came after Anne Oldfield filed a complaint in March accusing Rich of withholding more than his fare share of the profits acquired for Oldfield’s benefit. The Lord Chamberlain made no response and Rich continued to ‘tax’ other performers. In April, the Lord Chamberlain ordered Rich to cease taking extra money from his actors; Rich’s failure to do so eventually led to the enforced closure of Drury Lane. Rich initially thought that

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the silencing order would only last a few weeks, but the order stood and Rich did not regain the use of his patent until after the accession of George I in 1714. Hume states in Henry Fielding and the London Theatre, 1728–1737: The Lord Chamberlain’s order of 6 June 1709 was a seemingly innocent document. It ordered the Drury Lane theatre closed for defiance of an order of 30 April about the patentees detaining excessive ‘house charges’ from actor’s benefits. There was ample precedent. The Lord Chamberlain had occasionally ‘silenced’ theatres for various misdemeanours; such as stoppages normally lasted less than a week. But this time the Lord Chamberlain Kent simply shut down the patent company, and then proceeded to issue a license for acting to a Tory MP named William Collier.37

For a brief period in 1709, Vanbrugh’s licencee, Owen Swiney, enjoyed a monopoly on both plays and musical entertainments at the Haymarket. The opportunistic William Collier, however, saw the dethroning of Rich as an opportunity; he applied and received a licence on 21 November 1709. He then seized possession of the empty Drury Lane theatre, hired a lot of unemployed actors and ran plays there for the rest of the 1709–10 season. New plays were once again scarce, as Queen’s Theatre mounted two (Centlivre’s The Man Bewtch’d and Charles Johnson’s The Force of Friendship) and Drury Lane performed three (Aaron Hill’s Elfrid and Squire Brainless and Charles Shadwell’s The Fair Quaker of Deal). In early June 1710, however, the actors rioted against Aaron Hill, the hapless young manager installed by Collier, and the second company again collapsed. Spoken drama returned to Drury Lane in the autumn of 1710, but the genre split continued for the next three seasons, establishing a pattern of minimal production of new plays of any kind that must have been deeply discouraging to any writer hoping to earn a living from the theatre. On 18 December 1714, the new Lincoln’s Inn Fields staged The Recruiting Officer, which marked an end to the monopoly Drury Lane had enjoyed. Built on the site of the old theatre, Lincoln’s Inn Fields was Rich’s last project and he did not live to see the theatre open. After his death, his son, John Rich, became the principal owner and manager – a position he was to occupy until his death in 1761. As a result of the new competition, Drury Lane’s profits suffered.38 The introduction of another theatre, however, did not stimulate the production of new plays, and both theatres finished the next three seasons without making much of a profit. Lincoln’s Inn Fields struggled to stay in business during these years. Rich briefly turned over management to a pair of actors (Christopher Bullock and Theophilus Keene), and at the beginning of the next season, Lincoln’s Inn Fields employed a company of French comedians to perform French and Italian plays a few nights a week. The market for new English comedies could only be called dismal.

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A newly constructed theatre opened for the 1720–1 season. The New Theatre in the Haymarket was built by John Potter and opened with a company of French comedians on 29 December 1720. While the smaller New Theatre housed mostly foreign performers, Drury Lane and Lincoln’s Inn Fields continued to compete in the realm of English plays, and the King’s Theatre was usually restricted to opera. Most of the comedies were repertory staples and included such plays as The Recruiting Officer, The Country-Wife and The Old Batchelor. Foreign performers (New Theatre), opera (King’s) and repertory plays (Drury Lane and Lincoln’s Inn Fields) were the standard fare throughout the mid-1720s, with very little in the way of serious competition. Drury Lane and Lincoln’s Inn Fields went so far as to conclude a formal cartel arrangement, minimizing competition and conspiring to limit actors’ salaries and job mobility.39 New plays did not enjoy a serious resurgence until January 1728. During this month The Provoked Husband opened at Drury Lane on the 10th and The Beggar’s Opera premiered at Lincoln’s Inn Fields on the 29th. Both plays were huge hits and contributed to ending the stagnation in drama. Unfortunately, the boom competition of the 1730s was abruptly and artificially terminated by the imposition of the Licensing Act of 1737, which created a duopoly in spoken drama for Drury Lane and Covent Garden that was not finally broken until it was terminated by act of Parliament in 1843 – more than a century later. Infighting, unstable management, unscrupulous business practices and occasional periods of monopoly plagued the theatres in the beginning of the eighteenth century. As a result of these circumstances, the number of new plays dwindled. A few humane comedies were written and produced, most notably Centlivre’s Bold Stroke for a Wife (1718) and Steele’s The Conscious Lovers (1722). These two plays have significant performance histories and continued the humane comedy norms into the century. Centlivre takes a courtship plot and complicates the action by adding four blocking figures to the romantic pairing. Colonel Fainwell is in love with Mrs Lovely, but Mrs Lovely’s father decreed before he died that four men were to be her guardians. She is heir to £30,000 a year, but before she can marry, all four guardians must agree on the man. To complicate things further, the four men are of varying and conflicting temperaments. Sir Philip Modelove is an old beau who likes to woo young women, Periwinkle is a virtuoso interested in all things ancient, Tradelove is a Change-Broker who is concerned with money and Obediah Prim is a Quaker. Colonel Fainwell along with his friend Freeman, execute a plan involving various lies, costumes and trickery to get the four men to allow him to marry Mrs Lovely. For each guardian Colonel Fainwell pretends to be someone different, and while in disguise he is able to get the men to sign a marriage contract. He dresses like a French gentleman and convinces Sir Philip that he is the right man for Mrs

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Lovely. Colonel Fainwell pretends to be a servant bearing news about the death of Periwinkle’s uncle. Periwinkle, thinking that he has come into his uncle’s estate, signs what he believes to be a lease for the servant’s land. In actuality, the paper turns out to be a marriage contract. Colonel Fainwell dresses like a Dutch trader and strikes a deal with Tradelove for Mrs Lovely, and he pretends to be a Quaker to convince to Prim to agree to the union. At the end of the play, Colonel Fainwell reveals himself to all the men, and he has the documents that allow for his marriage to Mrs Lovely. The use of four blocking figures instead of just one makes the concept of obstacles to marriage absurd. The absurdity is further heightened by having the blocking figures be men who are outside of the family. The father is no longer responsible for not allowing his daughter to marry the man of her choosing; now there are four men of varying tempers and ideologies exerting their influence over a young woman. The complexity of the plot and the variety of characters make A Bold Stroke for a Wife an example of humane comedy, as does Centlivre’s technique of mixing the old and the new. Humane comedy and experimentation, although dissipating after 1707, did not disappear entirely. Centlivre continued to explore new plot formulas and character types, as did Steele. Steele had a history of experimenting with different elements in his plays. In The Funeral (1701), The Lying Lover (1703) and The Tender Husband (1705) he played with dramatic conventions. He continued to do so in The Conscious Lovers (1722 – originally planned as early as circa 1710). The Conscious Lovers has long been held up by critics who believe in the Restoration/sentimental split as a prime example of sentimental comedy. Such critics regard Steele as one of the founders and principal exponents of this type of comedy. Loftis states, ‘The method by which he structured The Conscious Lovers was to lead to the full development of sentimental comedy. Holding up “The Fine Gentleman” as a model for emulation shattered the pattern of satiric Restoration comedy, in which the weaknesses and folly of man were held up to ridicule.’40 ‘The Fine Gentleman’ was one of the titles Steele had originally considered, and the ‘gentleman’ refers to Bevil, the play’s hero. The plot of The Conscious Lovers is fairly predictable. Bevil, the ever dutiful son, has promised his father that he would marry Lucinda; however, he is really in love with Indiana, a poor orphan. Bevil’s best friend, Myrtle, loves Lucinda, and Lucinda returns his affections. Lucinda’s mother, Mrs Sealand, wants her daughter to marry Cimberton, an impertinent coxcomb many years her senior. At the end of the play, Mr Sealand realizes that Indiana is his daughter, whom he thought dead in a shipwreck. With this revelation, Sealand gives Bevil permission to marry her. Cimberton, realizing that Lucinda’s inheritance will have to be shared with her sister, withdraws his proposal, leaving Myrtle free to marry Lucinda. While the plot of the story is not new, what many critics, audience

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members and subsequent playwrights most often connect with is the character of Bevil. Bevil is admired for his gentlemanly behaviour. He is extremely obedient to his father, and he is respectful to all women. Although he loves Indiana, he does not make his true feelings known because of his obligation to Lucinda. Bernbaum believes that, ‘the chief characters have been sentimentalized’ and that Bevil’s ‘conduct in his love affair is exemplary’.41 Steele created the character of Bevil to act as a template to show how a person should behave. He writes in a letter to Daniel Finch, Earl of Nottingham, ‘I have written a Comedy, not only of consonant to the rules of Religion and Virtue, in Generall, but also in [word erased] analogy even to the Christian religion’.42 The Conscious Lovers also condemns duelling as a way of resolving arguments (duelling is frequently seen in earlier plays, most prominently in Steele’s The Lying Loser). Bevil and Myrtle are almost moved to draw swords as a result of an argument between the two about Lucinda. Once Bevil gives Myrtle evidence that he is not interested in her, Myrtle feels remorse at almost fighting with his friend. He states: Let me reflect on how many Friends have died, by the Hands of Friends, for what of Temper; and you must give me Leave to say again, and again, how much I am beholden to that Superior Spirit you have subdu’d me with – what had become of one of us, or perhaps both, had you been as weak as I was and incapable of Reason?43

This speech indicates not only a strong anti-duelling sentiment, but also reinforces the character of Bevil. Bevil is once again seen as a model of behaviour. He treats women with respect, he values his friends, and he is wise enough to not let his passions overpower him (in fact, he equates manliness with self control). By experimenting with dramatic conventions, Steele was able to depict virtuous people engaged in a gentler type of comedy, and The Conscious Lovers, with an initial run of eighteen nights and a dominance in the eighteenth-century repertory, became one of the few conspicuously successful new plays between 1707 and 1728. Steele’s last play is, however, decidedly atypical in its stress on the exemplary presentation of its principals. Seen in contrast to seventies-style comedies like The Country-Wife and The Man of Mode, or even in juxtaposition to the cold vision of The Way of the World, The Conscious Lovers can indeed seem a world away from the harsh satire of ‘Restoration’ comedy. We may, however, more reasonably see it as a uniquely extreme development of the more humane comedy that began to evolve in the 1690s and whose most characteristic form and apogee are exemplified in Farquhar’s last two plays. This study has been an investigation into the development of comedy during the late seventeenth/early eighteenth century. Farquhar contributed, not only during the years he was actively writing plays, but also for many years after his death. The development of theatre in the eighteenth century owes a debt to Farquhar’s comedies, as they filled the gap that was left by the relative dearth of new

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plays. While Farquhar is always mentioned in studies that survey comedy from 1660 to 1800, he is sometimes ignored or overlooked in broader surveys of the history of English comedy. His plays certainly do not receive the same attention as Congreve’s or Vanbrugh’s. Farquhar rarely appears in general British literature anthologies, which these days tend to choose The Rover or The Way of the World as ‘representative’ of this time period. While the importance of dramatists like Behn and Congreve (not to mention Dryden, Etherege and Wycherley) should not be belittled, a critic who jumps too casually over the developments of the 1690s or who attends only to the more backward-looking new plays of that decade can only fail to understand the evolutionary segue that was occurring in the last years of the old century and the first years of the new one. Critics fixated on the supposed dichotomy simply blind themselves to what was really happening in generic terms as the repertory evolved towards its eighteenth-century norms. Frank Muir, for example, is inclined to castigate Farquhar for not ‘really’ writing ‘comedy of manners’.44 Indeed, he did not. But what we can see in the sequence of Farquhar’s comedies is a transition in just nine seasons from the Carolean world of Love and a Bottle to the humane comedy norms of The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem. Selecting a relatively small number of examples, one can readily construct flashy dichotomies that crumble and disappear if one chooses to look at all of the performed plays and to pay attention to immediate and long-term success in the theatre. Such critics as Hume and Derek Hughes have demonstrated beyond reasonable argument that the famous sex comedies of the 1670s were atypical in their time and that their type was never dominant. Critics from Sherbo to Hume to Bevis have proven conclusively that ‘sentimental comedy’ (by any definition) was never at any time during the eighteenth century dominant either in the repertory or in new plays. If one looks without gross preconceptions at all of the comedies staged in the first quarter of the eighteenth century, what one discovers is that they fall into a wide variety of types: farcical, seriously or humorously satiric, reform, and exemplary.45 Considering even just Farquhar’s plays, we should see that they exhibit radically different generic characteristics. The Stage Coach is a farce; Love and a Bottle is humorously satiric; The TwinRivals is seriously satiric; The Constant Couple, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem represent successful experiments in the humane mode that was to become the dominant norm during the eighteenth century. If the ‘old comedy’ comprises the mixture to be found in the 1670s, with satire and farce of various sorts dominant, then the comedy that is the dominant mixture after the turn of the century needs to be seen as significantly different, not without satire but featuring a dominant humane mode.

CONCLUSION

Farquhar and Anglo-Irish Drama The goal of this book is to argue for the change in comedy at the turn of the seventeenth century and George Farquhar’s contribution to that shift. As an Anglo-Irish dramatist, however, Farquhar also contributes to the history of Anglo-Irish drama as well. As an Irishman living in England, Farquhar would have been in a unique position. As part of English society he would have been familiar with social norms and customs, but as an Irishman, he would have been seen as an outsider and was more heir to the ‘Teague’ and ‘Paddy’ stereotypes instead of the privileges granted to English-born gentlemen. This insider/outsider status lies at the core of what made Farquhar an insightful satirist of English society. Farquhar faced many challenges in his life and frequently struggled to make a living through his writing. These struggles were compounded by the fact that he was engaging in a theatrical economy that wanted to see very particular images of the Irish on stage – that of the bumbling, foolish, unsophisticated ‘Stage Irishman’. What is a struggling Anglo-Irish playwright to do when faced with a society who wants to see a negative stereotype? With the exception of one character, Farquhar chose to use the tropes associated with the Stage Irishman and subvert them in a manner that satirizes the culture that perpetuates them. Obviously, Farquhar is not the only Anglo-Irish dramatist to use his pen to satirize the English. However, he is frequently left out of the chronology of other great Anglo-Irish playwrights like Goldsmith, Sheridan, Wilde and Shaw. Farquhar’s inclusion in this illustrious list is imperative because he was one of the first Anglo-Irish playwrights to achieve widespread popularity both in England and in Ireland on the stage and in print. With seven full-length plays and one one-act entering repertories all over England and Ireland, there was hardly a season where a Farquhar comedy could not be found being produced somewhere in either one (or both) of the countries. This conclusion explores how Farquhar struggled against the ‘Stage Irishman’ stereotype, delicately balancing the audience’s demands and his own desire – 135 –

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to mock English society and still write a financially successful play. This conclusion also argues for the importance of including Farquhar in the chronology of great Anglo-Irish satirists. His plays served to inspire both Goldsmith and Sheridan, who are part of a larger tradition that includes Wilde and Shaw. The argument for his importance is also connected to the success of his plays both during his lifetime and after, both in England and in Ireland. Farquhar was ubiquitous in the eighteenth century, and his plays helped to change the nature of English comedy.

Farquhar and the Stage Irishman Like other character types that were popular onstage (the rake, the naïve young woman, the lusty servant, etc.), the Stage Irishman was also a figure the audience would have instantly recognized. In his text, John Millington Synge and the Irish Theatre, Maurice Bourgeois provides a definition of the Stage Irishman. He states, ‘The stage Irishman habitually bears the generic name of Pat, Paddy or Teague. He has an atrocious Irish brogue, makes perpetual jokes, blunders and bulls in speaking, and never fails to utter, by way of Hibernian seasoning, some wild screech or oath of Gaelic origin at every third word; he has an unsurpassable gift of “blarney” and cadges for tips and free drinks. His hair is of a fiery red; he is rosy-cheeked, massive and whisky-loving.’1 This description is not particularly flattering, and indeed, the Stage Irishman was meant to be a comic figure, at whose bumbling actions and uneducated brogue the audience could laugh. The popularity of the Stage Irishman was indicative of a larger trend in Engish comedy – the desire of the English to receive reinforcement of their superiority through the mocking of others. This situation created a conundrum for Irish playwrights trying to make a living. Margaret Kelleher and Philip O’Leary note in The Cambridge History of Irish Literature, ‘Irish playwrights found themselves in the paradoxical situation that Irish characters could be most fully explored against a background that appeared normative: England. In many cases, the function of Irish characters in such plays, with their brogues and their bulls, was simply to reinforce the normative nature of their English counterparts.’2 Not to be discouraged, however, Farquhar took on the challenge of trying to give the audience what they wanted while simultaneously continuing to experiment with character types. Joep Leerssen, in Mere Irish and Fior-Ghael: Studies in the Idea of Irish Nationality, argues that ‘The early eighteenth-century treatment of the Stage Irishman is first exemplified by George Farquhar’.3 Throughout his brief career, Farquhar created four Irish characters: Roebuck in Love and a Bottle, Macahone in The Stage-Coach, Teague in The Twin-Rivals and Foigard in The Beaux Stratagem. Although four very different characters, only one of them recodifies the

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Stage Irishman stereotype. The most unique among Farquhar’s Irish characters is Roebuck. Farquhar purposefully sets Roebuck up as the protagonist of Love and a Bottle and bestows upon him all of the dignity and wit becoming any gentleman in a late seventeeth-century comedy. From the moment Roebuck enters onstage, it is clear to the audience that he is no fool bumbling the English language, ‘Thus far our Arms have with Success been Crown’d. – Heroically spoken, faith, of a fellow that has not one farthing in his Pocket. If I have one Penny to buy a Halter withal in my present necessity, may I be hang’d; tho I’m reduc’d to a fair way of obtaining one methodically very soon, if Robbery or Theft will purchase the Gallows. But hold – Can’t I rob honourably, by turning Soldier?’4 Here Roebuck eloquently discloses his predicament: he suffers from a lack of income and must devise a way to fill his pockets. Kelleher and O’Leary note, ‘Admittedly, like many other Irish characters on the eighteenth-century stage, Roebuck is a fortune-hunter, on the prowl in London for a wealthy wife. However, even from this opening exchange, he demonstrates a verbal skill-clearly signaling to a post-Restoration audience that they are to sympathize with his character – that is the antithesis of the garbled pronunciation and muddled logic of a conventional Irish character like Teague in The Committee.’5 Not only could the predominantly English audience sympathize with Roebuck, they could also identify with him and would have seen him as a continuation of other Restoration fortune-hunters like Dorimant in Etheredge’s Man of Mode or Willmore in Behn’s The Rover. This is not to say, however, that Roebuck’s Irishness is invisible. ‘He [Roebuck] speaks in standard stage English, and his verbal jousting gets the better of every character with the exception of Lucinda. At the same time, in his first appearance on the stage, Roebusk announces that he is Irish, he defends his Irishness by putting Irish foibles in the context of English ones, and the subsequent plot hinges on his acquisition of an Irish estate.’6 As a result, Farquhar is essentially making an argument for the humanization of the colonized ‘other’. If an Irishman can look and sound like an Englishman, then he becomes more difficult to dehumanize and serves as a symbol of the universality of the human experience. Roebuck is almost indistinguishable from his English counterparts. So much so that he is not instantly recognizable as Irish by the English characters in the play. In fact, his Irishness shocks Lucinda: Lucinda. Are you then one of the Wise Men of the East? Roebuck. No, Madam; but one of the Fools of the West. Lucinda. Pray what do you man by that? Roebuck. An Irish-man, Madam, at your Service. Lucinda. Oh horrible! an Irish-man! a meer Wolf-Dog, I protest. Roebuck. Ben’t surpriz’d Child; the Wolf-Dog is as well natur’d an Animal as any of your Country Bull-Dogs, and a much more fawning Creature, let me tell ye.7

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This masking of Roebuck’s Irishness is quite subversive, because Roebuck could be an Englishman. If it were not for the word ‘Irish’ in his dramatis personae description, he would be indistinguishable from other Restoration comedy heroes – ‘An Irish Gentleman, of a wild roving temper; newly come to London’.8 While Farquhar will continue to redefine the masking of Irishness with Teague and Foigard, those characters are duplicitious in a more standard, humorous nature: Teague with regard to his intelligence and Foigard with regard to his ‘Frenchness’. The refusal to feed into the bumbling Irishman stereotype illustrates Farquhar’s unwillingness to cater to an English culture that was accustomed to seeing itself upheld as the gold standard, a perception that complicated the creating of characters for the Irish dramatist, ‘To make matters worse for an Irish playwright, while eighteenth-century English audiences went to theatres to see themselves, they also went there to be confirmed in the belief that their own behaviour – however it might be in need of improvement – was the norm by which all human behaviour was to be judged. This meant that while an English comic character could be (and often was) as cantankerous, foolish or tonguetied as a corresponding Irish character, in the English character such faults were ascribed to a general human nature (which, in sentimental comedy, it was the task of the play to reprimand or cure), whereas in the Irish character every trait was attributable to Irishness (and was hence incurable).’9 With this kind of cultural climate and assumptions, Farquhar purposefully refused to fully cater to the English audience’s expectations of what kinds of behaviours the Irish characters should engage in. Farquhar fights against the perceived function of the Irish onstage in the character of Teague in The Twin-Rivals. On the surface, Teague resembles the stereotype of the Irishman that was prevalent at the time. However, Farquhar tricks his audience by initially feeding into their cultural expectations and then by shattering those assumptions. By naming the character ‘Teague’, Farquhar sets up his audience to expect a very specific character type. ‘Teague’, like the name ‘Paddy’, is a stereotypical name for an Irishman that carries with it very negative connotations. As argued in Chapter 3, however, Teague shatters the incompetent, ignorant Irishman stereotype. His bumbling is a masque to hide his true capabilities. Teague is very aware of his ability to play the part of the know-nothing buffoon. When he reveals to everyone that Subtleman paid him to swear against Elder Wou’dbe, this awareness becomes evident: Elder Wou’dbe. My Wonder is divided between the Villany of the Fact, and the Amazement of the Discovery. Teague! my very Servant! sure I dream. Teague. Fet, dere is no dreaming in the cashe, I’m sure the Croon pieceish are awake, for I have been taaking with dem dish half hour.

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Young Wou’dbe: Ignorant, unlucky Man, thou has ruin’d me; why had not I a sight of him before. Subtleman. I thought the Fellow had been too ignorant to be a Knave. Teague. Be my shoule, you lee dear Joy – I can be a Knave as well as you, fen I think it conveniency.10

During the course of the play, Teague saves Aurelia from rape, he apprehends Midnight and he ultimately proves himself to be invaluable to Elder Wou’dbe. His thick accent, which Farquhar writes phonetically in the text, serves to challenge the English audience’s assumptions about the simple ‘Teague’ character. Like Roebuck, Teague is a character with double layers – he appears to be one thing on the outside but is actually another on the inside. Foigard is another character who masques his Irishness in interesting ways. In Foigard’s case, he is an Irishman pretending to be a French priest. Unlike Love and a Bottle and The Twin-Rivals, the list of dramatis personae in The Beaux Stratagem does not identify Foigard as Irish. Instead, the list states, ‘A Priest, Chaplain to the French Officers’.11 At the beginning of the play neither the viewing audience nor the reading audience is aware of Foigard’s true identity. When Foigard first enters on stage, however, his true identity is covertly recognized by Aimwell: Foigard. Save you, Gentlemen’s, both. Aimwell. A French-man! Sir, your most humble Servant. Foigard. Och, dear Joy, I am your most faithful Shervant, and yours alsho. Gibbet. Doctor, you talk very good English, but you have a mighty Twang of the Foreigner. Foigard. My English is very vel for the vords, but we Foreigners you know cannot bring our Tongues about the Pronounciation so soon. Aimwell. A Foreigner! a down-right Teague by this Light. (Aside.) Were you born in France, Doctor. Foigard. I was educated in France, but I was borned at Brussels, I am a Subject of the King of Spain, Joy.12

Foigard’s attempt at deception is immediately proven to be unsuccessful, as Aimwell sees through his masquerade. What is most interesting about the character of Foigard is that his true identity is revealed through the one thing that (on the surface, at least) can immediately distinguish an Irishman from an Englishman – his brogue. Roebuck is successful at appearing to be an English country gentleman because he sounds like one. Foigard, apparently, is unable to imitate the English accent, so he relies upon a poor imitation of the French accent to masque his true origins. Using the brogue against him, Archer pretends to be Irish in an attempt to ‘out’ Foigard as an Irishman: Archer. (In a Brogue.) Saave you, my dear Cussen, how do’s your Health?

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Experimentation on the English Stage, 1695–1708 Foigard. Ah! upon my Should ere is my Countryman, and his Brogue will hang mine. (Aside.) Mynheer, Ick wet neat watt hey azct, Ick universton ewe neat, sacramant. Aimwell. Altering your Language won’t do, Sir, this Fellow knows your Person, and will swear to your Face. Foigard. Faace! fey, is dear a Brogue upon my Fassh, too? Archer. Upon my Soulvation dere ish Joy – But Cussen Mack-shane vil you not put a remembrance upon me. Foigard. Mack-shane! by St. Paatrick, dat is Naame, shure enough. (Aside.) Aimwell. I fancy, Archer, you have it.13

Farquhar relies upon some reinforcing of stereotypes for the humour in this scene. Foigard’s concern that there is a brogue on his face is not only a comment upon his intelligence but also hearkens back to the notion that all Irish are distinguishable by particular physical features. Aimwell’s guess that his name is a common Irish one (in this case, McShane) and Foigard’s frustrated iteration (‘by St. Patrick’) are markers of expected behaviours by Irish characters on stage. I would hesistate, however, to argue that Farquhar is simply recodifying the Stage Irishman stereotype. Foigard’s choice to disguise his Irishness as French is a unique one. The inauthentic Frenchman is not an unusual character type in Restoration and eighteenth-century comedy (for example, the Marquess of Hazard in Centlivre’s The Gamester), but the rather complex, double-masquing of an Irishman pretending to be an Frenchman to deceive the English of his Irishness does shatter the simple-minded stereotype associated with the Stage Irishman. The choice to have Foigard pretend to be a French priest also brings up interesting connections between the Irish and French with regard to religion and the similarly contemptuous relationship both the Irish and the French have with the English. The sentiment is best summed up in this exchange between Scrub and Foigard: Foigard. Save you, Master Scrub. Scrub. I won’t be sav’d your way – I hate a Priest, I abhor the French, and I defie the Devil – Sir, I’m a bold Briton, and will spill the last drop of my Blood to keep out Popery and Slavery.14

Having Foigard pretend to be French raises an interesting connection between the Irish and the French and complicates the flat, one-dimensional representation of the stereotypical Stage Irishman. Not all of Farquhar’s characters, however, fight against the Stage Irishman stereotype. In the figure of Macahone in his one-act, The Stage-Coach, Farquhar does succumb to creating a more traditional character type. When Macahone first comes onstage, he is introduced by Captain Basil, who states, ‘Pshaw, here’s that Irish Booby’,15 and indeed, Macahone is. Besides having a stereotypical name and a stereotypical brogue, Macahone is also foolish, and Farquhar relies upon over-the-top characterization for comedic effect:

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Macahone. Be me Shoul, ’tis a braw House, sure the Shentelman of the Tavern must be some Person of Quality, – Oh! My dear Maishter Captain, I am your most loving and mush honoured Friend. Captain. Our Acquaintance, Sir, is a little too short for so much Familiarity. Macahone. Our Acquaintance too short Dear Joy, it ish Threescore Miles long; And by Shaint Patrick, I would be very Joiful for being your especial Friend, because I am afraid we shall never meet again. Captain. May I crave your Name, Sir? Macahone. My Name ish Torlough Rauwer Macahone, of the Parish of Curough a Begely, in the Country of Tiperary, Eshquire; Where is my Mansion House, for me and my Predecessors after me.16

Despite the fact that Macahone claims to have a mansion house, he went to London to search for his fortune either in ‘Law, Friend, or Physick, or a Merchants Wife, or Back-Gammon, or any of these honourable Professions’.17 Macahone’s comments are silly and exaggerated, and his exhuberant ridiculousness is held in contrast to Captain Basil’s refinement and cultured restraint. The captain finds Macahone so distasteful that before the conversation is over, he calls Macahone a ‘booby’ twice and a ‘coxcomb’.18 Farquhar’s dependence upon stereotypes in order to elicit laughter from his audience is slightly disappointing here. One would hope that an Irishman would be more sensitive to cultural stereotypes. However, Farquhar was a struggling dramatist who may have resigned himself to the fact that in certain instances it was more profitable to give the audience what they enjoyed seeing. What is important to note here is that The Stage-Coach is a farcical one-act and was the only play of his that was performed at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. As discussed in Chapter 5, the theatrical history of the The Stage-Coach is not well-documented. It is possible that in an attempt to write a successful farce, Farquhar decided to depend upon well-established stereotypes. The sub-genre of farce frequently calls for broad characterization, and the limitations of the one-act may have also contributed to Farquhar’s rehashing of the Stage Irishman. Whatever reason he had for creating Macahone, within Farquhar’s overall career we see a richly textured variety of Irish characters from ones that seem to perpetuate the stereotypes to ones that challenge them to ones that break the stereotypes wide open.

Farquhar and the Chronology of Anglo-Irish Satirists Of Farquhar’s plays, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem are the most frequently anthologized. They represent two examples of late seventeenth/early eighteenth-century drama at their finest. The Beaux Stratagem, in particular, is somewhat of a last hurrah before the trend shifted toward more ‘sentimental comedy’. While Farquhar’s contribution is often noted in studies of Restoration and eighteenth-century drama in general, he is frequently left out of the chronol-

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ogy of important Irish dramatists. Farquhar is, in fact, along with Congreve, one of the first Anglo-Irish playwrights to influence and transform the English stage. His insight into English social norms and ability to mock and satirize them helped to lay the foundation for other prominent Anglo-Irish playwrights. Kelleher and O’Leary argue, ‘It is thus possible to read Farquhar’s plays, with their London settings, as pioneering the kind of coded engagement with Irish society that would re-emerge late in the century in plays such as Francis Sheridan’s The Discovery (1763), Oliver Goldsmith’s She Stoops to Conquer (1773), Arthur Murphy’s Three Weeks After Marriage (1776), and R. B. Sheridan’s School for Scandal (1777)’.19 Operating from the unique position of being both an insider and an outsider, the Anglo-Irish dramatist is able to understand English social customs enough to imitate them successfully and to mock them amusingly. Helen M. Burke states that ‘as a penniless Anglo-Irishman living in London, Farquhar was always somewhat of an outsider in the English society of his day, and this outsider’s perspective informs all his comedies’.20 This perspective has informed the work of some of the most successful Anglo-Irish playwrights who have entertained English audiences by satirizing their norms and behaviours: namely George Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, Sheridan and Goldsmith. This chronology of influence needs to include Farquhar not just because he, too, is Anglo-Irish, but because his plays irrevocably changed the nature of English comedy. The tropes and character types explored by Farquhar are recodified by Goldsmith and Sheridan in the late eighteenth century. Goldsmith acknowledged the unique insight Farquhar had into the human condition, ‘Farquhar, [Goldsmith] said, was truer to nature and possessed the spirit of genuine comedy in a superior degree to any other modern writer; because people were rarely so witty in their dialogue as Congreve makes them, whereas they frequently displayed that life, spirit, and vivacity, which is so conspicuous in Farquhar, though unhappily he was often coarse and licentious, as much from the taste of the age as probably from being less accustomed to good society than his contemporaries’.21 Interestingly, Goldsmith takes note of Congreve here as well, which indicates, to some extent, a familiarity with the importance of past Anglo-Irish playwrights. Goldsmith’s comment on the presence of both the unique ‘life, spirit and vivacity’ and the ‘coarse and licentious’ behaviour present in Farquhar’s plays speaks to the core of this book’s argument – that Farquhar combined tropes and language popular in plays of his time with new, fresh experimental elements to create plays that were unique and influential in changing the nature of English comedy. Goldsmith’s and Sheridan’s comedies, particularly She Stoops to Conquer (1773), The Rivals (1775) and The School for Scandal (1777), most clearly hearken back to Farquhar. When compared to Farquhar, the three dramatists serve as appropriate book-ends to the eighteenth century. In many ways, Gold-

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smith’s and Sheridan’s plays reflect a return to the tropes and character types popular in Farquhar’s comedies. Kelleher and O’Leary argue that the similarities in the works are the result of relatively static dramatic conventions: ‘In the eighty years between Love and a Bottle in 1698 and The Rivals in 1775 change took place only within very limited parameters’.22 With the dominance of ‘sentimental’ comedy in the early to mid-eighteenth century, I would argue that Kelleher and O’Leary’s assertion is incorrect. In fact, Sheridan’s The School for Scandal is an outright condemnation of ‘sentimental’ comedy and the ‘man of sentiment’ who was a fixture in the plays by Cibber, Steele and their contemporaries. Sheridan saw the obsession with appearance of virtue and sensitivity in these plays to be deceptive, inauthentic and potentially dangerous. As a result, he moved to reclaim the conventions that were popular in the beginning of the century and populated his plays with the rakes, lascivious women and scheming servants that were popular the plays of Farquhar and other playwrights at the time. This return to critiquing the English culture for its faults and duplicitous nature again illustrates the unique perspective shared by many Anglo-Irish dramatists. Irish playwrights like Congreve, Farquhar, Goldsmith and Sheridan also found ways to slowly undermine the dominant English belief in their superior social, economic, intellectual and religious status. ‘Farquhar was among the first dramatists to realize that he was living in a world of rapid social transformation that had made identity malleable in a way ideally suited to stage comedy, and this awareness runs through almost all of his work.’23 These playwrights were able to poke holes in the dominant ideology through not only representations of questionable high-born English ‘ladies’ and ‘gentlemen’, but also through the Irish characters who were bumbling simpletons on one hand and social critics on the other. The idea that the Irish might not be as foolish as they seem (Teague) or might even be mistaken for someone of the English upper class (Roebuck) was pioneered by Farquhar. ‘It is certainly the case that there was a string of Irish plays throughout the eighteenth century that responded to Irish slippages in class and identity, beginning with Farquhar’s sustained exploration of these issues at the beginning of the century’.24 His portrayal of the slippery slope between Irish and English, of the fluidity of national identity and the questioning of social mobility was picked up by Sherdian in the late eighteenth century. The opening night of Sheridan’s The Rivals (1775) marked a reminder to the audience that the Irish in general and Irish playwrights in particular occupied a unique place and voice in English society – one that could be seen as potentially threatening. ‘As the howls of derision rang out through Covent Garden that evening, there was a collective moment of recognition that decades of insisting that Irish characters could never be other than Irish had, almost imperceptibly, helped create a world of national differences, in which England and English val-

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ues looked less and less central. From that point onwards, Irish characters on stage – no matter how ludicrous – carried an implicit threat: the threat of difference.’25 The plays written by the Anglo-Irish dramatists at both ends of the eighteenth century illustrate to the English one of the many pitfalls of empire: primarily, the complicated relationship between a people who refuse to be fully assimilated yet who can move somewhat freely among the dominant society. ‘In George Farquhar’s and Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s plays, Anglo-Irish gentlemen returned in disheveled desperation to remind the London smart-set of the cultural price being paid for empire by its sponsors on the periphery, a place often repressed from official consciousness.’26 Even more threatening is when the ‘Anglo-Irish gentleman’ picks up a pen and aims his critique back on the English society. The insider/outsider status created by empire combined with literary talent and wit has spawned some of the greatest comical and insightful satirists of the English and their social, political and cultural dominance. Declan Kiberd, in The Irish Writer and the World, notes that ‘Englishmen came slowly to realize that their much-vaunted tradition of comedy had been instituted and maintained by a succession of outrageously talented Irishmen. From Congreve and Farquhar in the Restoration drama, through Goldsmith and Sheridan in the eighteenth century, to Wilde and Shaw at the close of the nineteenth, Irishmen had revealed themselves to be past masters of English comedy.’27 The importance of the Anglo-Irish playwright as satirist has been widely acknowledged in Goldsmith, Sheridan, Wilde and Shaw, but Farquhar (and Congreve, to some extent) is frequently excluded from this chronology. Kiberd is one of the few critics to recognize Farquhar’s place in this illustrious list, and Farquhar’s place as one of the important early examples of great Anglo-Irish satirists has only recently come to the attention of critics. Contemporary scholars are beginning to note the important influence Farquhar had on the history of English drama in general and the history of Anglo-Irish drama in particular. Many previous discussions of the trajectory of Anglo-Irish playwrights jumped from Congreve to Sheridan to Wilde to Shaw, excluding Farquhar. Fortunately, editors of surveys of English drama are slowly recognizing Farquhar’s contribution to theatrical history. For example, Alexander Leggat’s English Stage Comedy, 1490–1990 does include him, focusing mainly on The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem. Leggat’s methodology looks at plays that were popular in the repertory, which is part of the reason for Farquhar’s inclusion. Comedies that enter the repertory ‘keep their place as living theatre’28 and contribute significantly to the genealogy of English theatre. The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem are both anthologized in the 2000 Blackwell edition of Restoration Drama: An Anthology, edited by David Womersly, and J. Douglas Canfield includes The Beaux Stratagem in the 2001 edition of The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama.

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Farquhar is also included in the 2006 edition of The Cambridge History of Irish Literature. A testament to the increasing recognition of Farquhar’s importance, the editors state, ‘Although he died in penury in 1707, Farquhar’s posthumous career makes him arguably the most successful Irish-born playwright in Ireland during the first half of the eighteenth century’,29 indicating that not only did Farquhar have an impact on the English stage, but he was also very popular on the Irish stage as well. Farquhar’s history on the Irish stage reflects a level of success comparable to his tenure in the eighteenth-century English theatre. ‘In their calendar of the Irish stage for the years 1720–45, John C. Greene and Gladys L. H. Clark record 116 Irish productions of plays by Farquhar – a total for the period exceeded only by Shakespeare (279) and Colley Cibber (144). During the 1737/8 season alone, the Dublin theatres staged five of his seven full-length plays.’30 Plays that were produced in Ireland include The Constant Couple, which was performed approximately twenty-three times at Smock Alley during the play’s first London season alone. Farquhar himself even played the role of Sir Harry Wildair sometime between 20 October 1704 and 23 March 1705.31 The Constant Couple continued throughout the century to imitate its success on the London stage in Ireland and attracted a host of other notable actors to the role, including David Garrick and Thomas Sheridan, the actor-manager of Smock Alley and father of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. The Inconstant, despite its somewhat lukewarm reception in London, successfully travelled throughout Ireland and was performed in several towns including Dublin, Belfast, Cork and Londonderry.32 The Twin-Rivals had thirteen performances at Smock Alley in the middle of the eighteenth century, and some of the same actors performed in both the London and the Dublin productions.33 Of course, The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem were the two most popular of Farquhar’s plays to appear in Ireland. Both of these plays were widely performed in towns throughout the country, including Dublin, Cork, Belfast, Kilkenny, Tralee and Londonderry.34 Not only was Farquhar widely produced in Ireland after his death, but he was also widely read. ‘Even on those rare occasions when Farquhar’s works were absent from the stage, they were being read in more than fifty editions of individual plays published in Ireland over the course of the century, as well as in two multi-volume collected editions of his work, the first of which, published by the Dublin bookseller George Risk, had run to eight printings by 1755.’35 One of the reasons for Farquhar’s popularity in Ireland was most likely his ability to satirize the English. In characters like Sir Harry, he was able to show the audience the bumbling, ridiculous nature of an English ‘gentleman’. In characters like Aimwell and Archer he entertained them with humorous portrayals of the fortune-hunter. In Midnight he showed the darker and more corrupt side of the birthing business, and, of course, he exposed the audience to unique and

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new characters like Silvia, Mrs. Sullen, and Young Wou’dbe. Farquhar’s talent, combined with his background as an Anglo-Irishman, would have stimulated the Irish audience’s interest in his work and would have driven them to both see and read his plays in great numbers. For a playwright who was only productive for a brief ten years, Farquhar’s works had a lasting impact on the stage and the culture and are important contributions to the theatrical heritage that is English comedy. He bucked the Stage Irishman stereotype in his plays, sharply satirized English society and wrote plays that entered the repertory in theatres throughout England and Ireland. As a result of his legacy, he can be seen as a ‘grandfather’ to other prominent Anglo-Irish playwrights who wrote in the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Although less of a repertory staple today, Farquhar’s plays do continue to be performed, particularly The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem. The witty dialogue, the satire and the unique characters mark Farquhar as one of the most important Anglo-Irish dramatists in English literature. His influence was enough to revolutionize an entire shift in comedy and to inspire generations of future playwrights.

NOTES

Introduction 1.

2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

For texts indicative of this argument see E. Bernbaum, The Drama of Sensibility (Boston, MA: Ginn and Company, 1915), p. 10, H. T. E. Perry, The Comic Spirit in Restoration Drama (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1925), p. 10, and A. Sherbo, English Sentimental Drama (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1957), p. 21. Nicoll first expressed his opinion in A History of Early Eighteenth Century Drama, 1700–1750 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1925), p. 126. That book is labelled volume two; the first volume of this series is A History of Restoration Drama, 1660–1700 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1923). Few changes were made for the 1950s edition, though Nicoll added some material to the appendixes and published a cumulative index as volume 6 of the work issued as A History of English Drama 1660–1900, rev edn, 6 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1952–9). For elaboration on their argument, see S. S. Kenny, ‘Humane Comedy’, Modern Philology, 75 (August 1977), pp. 29–43, and R. D. Hume, The Development of English Drama in the Late Seventeenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), ‘The Multifarious Forms of Eighteenth-Century Comedy’, in G. Winchester Stone, Jr (ed.), The Stage and the Page: London’s ‘Whole Show’ in the Eighteenth-Century Theatre (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), pp. 3–32, and ‘Goldsmith and Sheridan and the Supposed Revolution of “Laughing” against “Sentimental” Comedy’ in The Rakish Stage: Studies in English Drama, 1660–1800 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1983). Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, p. 2. Ibid., p. 95. Hume, Development, p. 36. R. D. Hume, ‘The Myth of the Rake in “Restoration Comedy”‘, Studies in the Literary Imagination, 10 (Spring 1977), pp. 25–55; reprinted in Hume, Rakish Stage, p. 175. Hume, ‘Multifarious Forms’, pp. 3–32; reprinted in Hume, Rakish Stage, p. 224. Kenny, ‘Humane Comedy’, p. 30. Ibid., p. 31.

1 The London Theatre World in the 1690s 1.

For more information on the methods used to determine audience composition, see J. H. Smith, The Gay Couple in Restoration Comedy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1948), pp. 135–137; Nicoll, History of Restoration Drama, pp. 5–25; E. L. – 147 –

148

2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23.

24. 25.

Notes to pages 11–21 Avery, ‘The Restoration Audience’, Philological Quarterly, 45 (1966), pp. 54–61; and J. Loftis, et al., The Revels History of Drama in English, vol. 5: 1660–1750 (London: Methuen, 1976), pp. 13–25. More recent critics include H. Love, ‘Who were the Restoration Audience?’, Yearbook of English Studies, 10 (1980), pp. 21–44; and A. H. Scouten and R. D. Hume, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences, 1660–1776’, Yearbook of English Studies, 10 (1980), pp. 45–69. Hume, Development, p. 90. G. Holmes, The Making of a Great Power: Late Stuart and Early Georgian Britain 1660– 1722 (London: Longman, 1993), p. 234. Ibid., p. 235. Ibid., p. 403. While the total population is a 1696 estimate, the data concerning London is from 1700 and the variation in numbers is a result of information from different scholars. E. A. Wrigley believes the London population was around 575,000, while R. Finlay and B. Shearer estimate the number to be closer to 490,000. Holmes, Making of a Great Power, p. 439. H. and B. Van Der Zee, William and Mary (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1973), p. 438. N. Luttrell, A Brief Historical State of Affairs from September 1698 to April 1714, 6 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1857), vol. 6, p. 326. During the war, every spring William would confront Louis XIV on the continent, and after the war was over he continued to leave England once a year to return to his beloved Holland. In fact, 1689 was the only year that William spent entirely in England. Luttrell, Brief Historical State of Affairs, vol. 6, p, 463. J. H. Smith, ‘Shadwell, the Ladies, and the Change in Comedy’, Modern Philology, 46 (1948), pp. 22–33. Ibid., p. 33. Scouten and Hume, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences, 1660–1776’, p. 63. W. van Lennep (ed.) and E. L. Avery and A. H. Scouten (intro.), The London Stage, 1660–1800: Part 1: 1660–1700 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1965), p. lxxxii. J. Milhous and R. D. Hume, Producible Interpretation: Eight English Plays 1675–1707 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1985), p. 43. Milhous and Hume, Producible Interpretations, p. 43. Ibid., p. 46. Lennep (ed.), The London Stage. Part 1, p. ixxxii. S. S. Kenny, ‘The Publication of Plays’, in R. D. Hume (ed.), The London Theatre World, 1660–1800 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1980), pp. 309–36; p. 310. J. Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, ed. C. Clair (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1967), pp. 205–7. Kenny, ‘The Publication of Plays’, p. 315. Ibid., p. 311. For a complete transcription of ‘The Petition of the Players’ and ‘The Reply of the Patentees’ see J. Milhous, Thomas Betterton and the Management of Lincoln’s Inn Fields 1695–1708 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1979), pp. 225–46. J. Downes, Roscius Anglicanus, ed. J. Milhous and R. D. Hume (London: The Society of Theatre Research, [1708] 1987), p. 93. J. Collier, A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage (New York: AMS Press, [1698] 1974), p. 2.

Notes to pages 21–31

149

26. See T. B. Macaulay, The History of England from the Accession of James II, 5 vols (Philadelphia, PA: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1881), vol. 3, p. 363, and C. Cibber, An Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber, ed. R. W. Lowe, 2 vols (London: John C. Nimmo, 1889; New York: AMS, 1966), p. 275, Nicoll, History of Early Eighteenth Century Drama, p. 161, and Perry, Comic Spirit, p. 10. 27. See Smith, Gay Couple in Restoration Comedy, p. 229, and R. D. Hume ‘Jeremy Collier and the Future of the London Theatre in 1698’, Studies in Philology, 94 (1999), pp. 480–511; p. 482. 28. G. Farquhar, The Works of George Farquhar, ed. S. S. Kenny, 2 vols (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), vol. 2, p. 257. 29. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 269.

2 Origins of ‘Humane Comedy’: Farquhar, Congreve, Cibber and Vanbrugh 1.

2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

Between seven and thirteen per cent of late seventeenth-century play dates are known because most performances are found in newspaper advertisements, and there were no daily papers until 1702. Even after 1702 performance records are spotty because theatres did not always advertise every performance. Essentially complete records do not begin until 1706. In a letter, Farquhar thanks the playwright Catharine Trotter for attending the benefit. See The Works of Mrs. Catharine Cockburn … With an Account of the Life of the Author, ed. T. Birch, 2 vols (London: J. and P. Knapton, 1751), vol. 1, p. vii. [Anon.], A Comparison between the Two Stages, ed. S. B. Wells (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, [1702] 1942), p. 22. Hume, Development, pp. 132–3. Ibid., p. 133. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 54. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 88. Cibber, Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber, vol. 1, p. 79. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 52–3. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 5. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 8. Kenny incorrectly attributes the first run of The Beggar’s Opera to the 1728–9 season. The London Stage records the première on 29 January 1728, which is in the 1727–8 season. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 197. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 170. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 170. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 216. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 214. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 215. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 229. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 230. D. Roberts, The Ladies: Female Patronage of Restoration Drama (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), pp. 163–5. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 167. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 158.

150 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55.

56. 57. 58. 59.

Notes to pages 31–41 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 168. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 167. Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 164–5. W. Congreve, The Complete Plays of William Congreve, ed. H. Davis (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1967), p. 237. Ibid., p. 237. Ibid., p. 254. C. Cibber, Love’s Last Shift (London: H. Rhodes, 1696), p. 34. Ibid., p. 63. Ibid., p. 64. Ibid., p. 74. Ibid., p. B1v. Ibid., pp. 20–1. S. Centlivre, The Basset-Table (London: William Turner, 1706), p. A4. C. Trotter, Love at a Loss; or, Most Votes Carry It (London: William Turner, 1701), p. A2v. Cibber, Preface to Ximena (1719), in The Plays of Colley Cibber, ed. R. L. Hayley (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1980), p. 180. T. D’Urfey, The Bath; or, The Western Lass (London: Peter Buck, 1701), p. A3r-v. G. Farquhar, George Farquhar [: Plays], ed. W. Archer (New York: Hill and Wang, 1959), p. 9. G. Farquhar, The Complete Works of George Farquhar, ed. C. Stonehill, 2 vols (London: Nonesuch Press, 1930), vol. 1, xxiii, p. 159. Ibid., vol. 1, p. xxiii. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 225. Hume, Development, p. 446. E. Rothstein, George Farquhar (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1967), p. 49. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 310. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 294. [Anon.] (‘not written by Mr. Edmond Curll’), The Life of Mr. John Dennis (London: J. Roberts, 1734), p. 20. [Anon.], Comparison, pp. 24–5. Downes, Roscius Anglicanus, p. 94. [Anon.], Comparison, p. 24. A. Boyer, Achilles; or Iphigenia in Aulis (London: Tho. Bennet, 1700), preface. [Anon.], Comparison, p. 25. Ibid., p. 26. Many scholars have referred to this play as Betterton’s adaptation, but virtually all of the text is Shakespeare’s. See J. Milhous, ‘Thomas Betterton’s Playwriting’, Bulletin of the New York Public Library, 77 (1974), pp. 375–92. Cibber, Apology, vol. 1, pp. 275–6. Cibber, Preface to Ximena, in Plays of Colley Cibber, vol. 2, p. 180. G. Thorn-Drury, More Seventeenth Century Allusions to Shakespeare (London: P. J. and A. E. Dobell, 1924), p. 48. While the inclusion of Dido and Aeneas with Measure for Measure is not mentioned in either The London Stage or Comparison, this performance is documented in E. W. White, ‘New Light on “Dido and Aeneas”’, Henry Purcell 1659–1695: Essays on his Music, ed.

Notes to pages 41–50

60.

61. 62. 63.

151

I. Holst (London: Oxford University Press, 1959), pp. 17–18, and C. A. Price, Music in the Restoration Theatre (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1979), pp. 48–49. The text of Dido and Aeneas in the order in which the opera was performed is printed in C. Gildon (ed.), Measure for Measure (London: D. Brown and R. Parker, 1700) and reprinted in Henry Purcell’s Operas: The Complete Texts, ed. M. Burden (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). Downes, Roscius Anglicanus, p. 95. [Anon.], Comparison, p. 27. Ibid., pp. 104–5.

3 Experimentation at the Turn of the Century 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

28.

Cibber, Apology, vol. 1, p. 263. R. Steele, The Plays of Richard Steele, ed. S. S. Kenny (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), p. 6. [Anon.], Comparison, p. 78. Ibid., p. 81. Ibid., p. 82. Ibid., p. 84. Plays of Richard Steele, p. 62. Ibid., p. 62. Ibid., p. 29. Ibid., p. 35. Ibid., p. 36. Hume, Development, p. 440. [Anon.], Comparison, p. 80. Ibid., p. 79. Ibid., p. 83. C. Winton, Captain Steele (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins Press: 1964), p. 62. R. D. Hume, ‘Marital Discord in English Comedy from Dryden to Fielding’, Modern Philology, 74 (1977), pp. 248–72; reprinted in Rakish Stage, p. 206. Smith, The Gay Couple in Restoration Comedy, p. 206. J. W. Bowyer, The Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1952), p. 43, and S. Centlivre, The Plays of Susanna Centlivre, ed. R. C. Frushell, 3 vols (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1982), vol. 1, p. xiv. S. Carroll (Centlivre), The Perjur’d Husband; or The Adventures of Venice (London: Bennet Banbury, 1700), p. A3v. S. Centlivre, The Beau’s Duel: or a Soldier for the Ladies (London: D. Brown, 1702), pp. 29–30, reprinted in Plays of Susanna Centlivre. Centlivre, Beau’s Duel, p. 46. Bowyer, Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, p. 45. Ibid., p. 46. [Anon.], Comparison, pp. 92–3. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 405. For a comprehensive study of plagiarism during this time see P. Kewes, Authorship and Appropriation: Writing for the Stage in England, 1660–1710 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998). Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 405.

152

Notes to pages 50–62

29. Scouten and Hume, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences’, pp. 45–69; reprinted in Rakish Stage, p. 69. 30. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 225. 31. Hume, Development, p. 447. 32. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 425. 33. J. Fletcher, The Wild-goose Chase (London: Humphrey Robinson and Humpherey Moseley, 1647), p. 27–8. 34. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 406. 35. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 463. 36. Scouten and Hume, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences’, p. 72. 37. Cibber, Preface to Ximena, in Plays of Colley Cibber, vol. 2, p. 180. 38. C. Cibber, She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not, in Plays of Colley Cibber, vol. 1, p. 252. 39. Ibid., p. 286. 40. Ibid., pp. 307–8. 41. Ibid., p. 322. 42. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, pp. 499–500. 43. Complete Works of George Farquhar, ed. Stonehill, vol. 1, p. 283. 44. G. Jacob, The Poetical Register; or The Lives and Characters of the English Dramatick Poets (London: E. Curll, 1719–20), p. 99. 45. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 499. 46. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 480. 47. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, pp. 86–7. 48. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 225. 49. Perry, Comic Spirit, p. 114. 50. Rothstein, George Farquhar, p. 62. 51. M. J. Kinservik, Disciplining Satire: The Censorship of Satiric Comedy on the EighteenthCentury London Stage (Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2002), p. 39. 52. Collier, A Short View, p. 148. 53. E. N. James, The Development of George Farquhar as a Comic Dramatist (The Hague: Mouton, 1972), p. 190. 54. Complete Works of George Farquhar, ed. Stonehill, vol. 1, p. 281. 55. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 482. 56. Hume, Development, p. 465. 57. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 507. 58. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 512. 59. Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 507–8. 60. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 567. 61. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 512. 62. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 550. 63. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 550. 64. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 555. 65. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 557. 66. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 557. 67. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 538. 68. Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 540–1. 69. Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 553–4. 70. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 569. 71. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 535.

Notes to pages 62–70

153

72. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 520. 73. D. Defoe, The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, ed. G. A. Starr (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), p. 5. 74. Defoe’s Review has had several titles including A Weekly Review of the Affairs of France, A Review of the Affairs of France, and A Review of the State of the English Nation (1704– 13). 75. D. Defoe, A Review of the State of the English Nation, 26 October 1706, Defoe’s Review, vol. 3, no. 8, ed. A. Wellesley Secord (New York: Columbia University Press, 1938), p. 512. 76. D. Defoe, A Review of the State of the English Nation, 8 August 1706, Defoe’s Review, vol. 3, no. 7, ed. Arthur Wellesley Secord (New York: Columbia University Press, 1938), p. 512. 77. M. Novak, Daniel Defoe: Master of Fictions, His Life and Ideas (Oxford: University Press, 2001), p. 132. 78. P. R. Backscheider, Daniel Defoe, His Life (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), p. 519. 79. C. Mounsey, Christopher Smart: Clown of God (Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2001), p. 99. 80. Ibid., p. 100. 81. Ibid., p. 101. 82. Midwife, 2, p. 79. 83. Male midwives did not become a growing profession until the mid-eighteenth century, and for a long time men in this profession were looked upon with suspicion by many women. See L. Stone, The Family, Sex, and Marriage in England, 1500–1800 (New York: Harper & Row, 1977), pp. 72–3. 84. L. Bertelsen, The Nonsense Club: Literature and Popular Culture, 1749–1764 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), p. 25. 85. C. Mounsey, ‘“To the Women of Both Sexes”: Christopher Smart, Mrs. Mary Midnight, and the Voice of the Dissident Woman Writer’, in C. Mounsey (ed.), Presenting Gender: Changing Sex in Early-Modern Culture (Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press: 2001), pp. 274–93; p. 277. 86. F. Easton, ‘Christopher Smart’s Cross-Dressing: Mimicry, Depropriation, and Juliate Agno’, Genre: Forms of Discourse and Culture, 31 (Fall–Winter 1998), p. 206. 87. See V. Bancroft, ‘Mrs. Midnight, Mrs. Mandrake, and the Serious Presentation of the “Drag Role” in The Twin-Rivals’, Restoration and 18th Century Theatre Research, 11 (Summer 1996), and R. Mahony and B. W. Rizzo, Christopher Smart: An Annotated Biography, 1743–1983 (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1984), p. 145. 88. Complete Works of George Farquhar, ed. Stonehill, p. 283. 89. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 485. 90. Complete Works of George Farquhar, ed. Stonehill, p. 283. 91. S. Centlivre, Love’s Contrivance, or Le Medecin malgré Lui (London: Bernard Lintott, 1703), pp. a-4. 92. See Scouten and Hume, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences’, Rakish Stage, p. 66. 93. Plays of Richard Steele, p. 105. 94. Ibid., p. 105. 95. Berbaum, p. 89. 96. Plays of Richard Steele, p. 115. 97. Ibid., p. 115.

154

Notes to pages 70–82

98. Ibid., p. 115. 99. R. Steele, Tracts and Pamphlets, ed. R. Blanchard (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1944), pp. 311–12. 100. Plays of Richard Steele, pp. 147–8. 101. Ibid., pp. 151–2. 102. Ibid., p. 174. 103. Ibid., p. 176. 104. Ibid., p. 183. 105. Ibid., p. 187. 106. C. Cibber, The Careless Husband (London: T. Johnson, 1721), p. Tt2. 107. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, pp. 91–2. 108. Ibid., p. 94. 109. Nicoll, History of Early Eighteenth Century Drama, p. 184. 110. Ibid., p. 185. 111. Hume, ‘Marital Discord’, in Rakish Stage, p. 196. 112. Ibid., p. 196. 113. Hume, Development, p. 469. 114. Cibber, Careless Husband, p. 364. 115. Cibber, Apology, p. 309. 116. Hume, Development, p. 469. 117. Marquis G. S. Halifax, ‘Advice to his Daughter’, in Halifax: Complete Works, ed. J. P. Kenyon (Baltimore, MD: Penguin Books, 1969), p. 279. 118. Bowyer, Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, p. 62. 119. Ibid., p. 66. 120. Plays of Susanna Centlivre, vol. 1, p. A1v-r. 121. Bowyer, Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, p. 60. 122. Plays of Susanna Centlivre, vol. 1, p. A1v-r. 123. Hume, Development, pp. 468–9. 124. Ibid., p. 469. 125. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, p. 100. 126. Bowyer, Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, p. 62. 127. Hume, Rakish Stage, p. 170. 128. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, p. 98. 129. Bowyer, Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre, pp. 61–2. 130. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 234. 131. Plays of Susanna Centlivre, vol. 1, pp. 20–1. 132. Ibid., p. 20. 133. Plays of Richard Steele, p. 197. 134. Ibid., p. 198. 135. Cibber, Preface to Ximena, in Plays of Colley Cibber, p. 181. 136. Ibid., p. 181. 137. Hume, Development, pp. 249–50. 138. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, p. 101. 139. Ibid., p. 101. 140. Ibid., p.101. 141. Plays of Richard Steele, p. 238.

Notes to pages 85–102

155

4 Successful Experimentation: The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux Stratagem 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40.

Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 17. For a detailed account of Farquhar’s army career see R. J. Jordan, ‘George Farquhar’s Military Career’, Huntington Library Quarterly, 37 (1974), pp. 251–64. Ibid., p. 254. Ibid., p. 255. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 225. Nicoll, History of Early Eighteenth Century Drama, p. 149. Hume, Development, p. 466 Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 225. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 114. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 50. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 120. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 91–2. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 97–8. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 112–3. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 139. Rothstein, pp. 28–29. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, p. 103. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 226. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, pp. 135–6. Hume, ‘Marital Discord’, in Rakish Stage, p. 203. Milhous and Hume, Producible Interpretation, p. 242. Ibid., pp. 292–3. Hume, ‘Marital Discord’, in Rakish Stage, p. 203. J. Genest, Some Account of the English Stage, 10 vols (London: H.E. Carrington, 1832), vol. 2, p. 366. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 145. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 216. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 226. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, pp. 218–9. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 147. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 187. Hume, Development, pp. 466–7. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, pp. 146–7. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 62. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 63. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 64. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 203–4. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 204–5. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 224. B. Corman, ‘Comedy’, in D. P. Fisk (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to English Restoration Theatre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 52–69; p. 68. J. D. Canfield (ed.), The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama (Ontario: Broadview Press, 2001), p. 945.

156

Notes to pages 102–18

41. H. M. Burke (ed.), The Beaux’ Stratagem, The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama, ed. J. D. Canfield (Ontario: Broadview Press, 2001), p. 1278. 42. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 143. 43. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 143. 44. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 151. 45. A. H. Scouten (ed.), The London Stage 1660–1800, Part 3: 1729–1747, 3 vols (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1969), vol. 1, p. 505. 46. Works of George Farquhar, vol. 2, p. 161. 47. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 201. 48. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 201. 49. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 202. 50. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 203–4. 51. D. Womersley (ed.), Restoration Drama: An Anthology (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000), p. 736. 52. Performance records are taken from Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 139. 53. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 197. 54. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 199. 55. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 204–5. 56. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 205. 57. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 206. 58. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 206. 59. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 240. 60. M. S. Auburn, ‘Garrick at Drury Lane, 1747–1776’, in J. Donohue (ed.), The Cambridge History of British Theatre, 3 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), vol. 2, pp. 145–64; p. 151. 61. Ibid., p. 152. 62. Ibid., p. 153. 63. E. A. Langhans, ‘1776: A Critical Year in Perspective’, in J. Donohue (ed.), The Cambridge History of British Theatre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), vol. 2, pp. 183–98; p. 187. 64. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 173. 65. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 181.

5 Farquhar’s Contributions and the Post-1707 Theatre 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 292. [Anon.], Comparison, pp. 93–4. Ibid., p. 94. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 367. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 368. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 369. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 373. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 373–4. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 365. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 386. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 377. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 379.

Notes to pages 118–33 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44.

157

Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 379–80. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 377. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 378. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 384. S. Johnson, Mr. Johnson’s Preface to his Edition of Shakespear’s Plays (London: J. and R. Tonson, 1765), p. xxv. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 288. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 317. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 336. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 406. See Scouten and Hume, ‘“Restoration Comedy” and its Audiences’, for a close analysis of the stormy receptions encountered by many new comedies circa. 1700. S. S. Kenny, ‘Perennial Favorites: Congreve, Vanbrugh, Cibber, Farquhar, and Steele’, Modern Philology, 73 (May 1976), pp. S4–S11; p. S4. See Kenny and The London Stage. Kenny, ‘Perennial Favorites’, p. S9. Although Kenny places the number of editions around forty, in my archival research I found over fifty editions published throughout the eighteenth century in England and Ireland (see Chapter 4). J. Boswell, Boswell’s London Journal 1762–1762, ed. F. A. Pottle (New York: McGrawHill, 1950), p. 91. J. Boswell, Boswell in Search of a Wife 1766–1769, ed. F. Brady and F. A. Pottle (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1956), p. 162. Boswell, Boswell’s London Journal, p. 140. T. Davies, Memoirs of the Life of David Garrick (London: T. Davies, 1780), pp. 4–5. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 126. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 10. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 139. G. W. Stone, Jr. and G. M. Kahrl, David Garrick: A Critical Biography (Carbondale: Southern Illinois Univ. Press, 1979), Appendix B. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 2, p. 142. C. B. Hogan (ed.), The London Stage 1660–1800, Part 5: 1776–1800, 3 vols (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1968), vol. 1, p. cxlii. For a detailed account of the protracted negotiations that led to the 1708 union, see Milhous, Thomas Betterton. R. D. Hume, Henry Fielding and the London Theatre, 1782–1737 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), p. 6. On theatrical profits at this time, see D. E. Shane, ‘John Rich and the Reopening of Lincoln’s Inn Fields’, Theatre Notebook, 42 (1988), pp. 23–34, and J. Milhous and R. D. Hume, ‘Profits at Drury Lane, 1713–1716’, Theatre Research International, 14 (1989), pp. 241–55. See J. Milhous and R. D. Hume, ‘The London Theatre Cartel of the 1720s: British Library Additional Charters 9306 and 9308’, Theatre Survey, 26 (1985), pp. 21–37. Loftis et al., Revels History, p. 233. Bernbaum, Drama of Sensibility, p. 133. P. Rogers, ‘A New Letter by Steele’, English Language Notes, 7 (1969), pp. 105–7; p. 106. Plays of Richard Steele, p. 357. F. Muir, The Comedy of Manners (London: Hutchinson, 1970), chapter 9.

158

Notes to pages 133–45

45. See Hume, ‘Multifarious Forms’, in Rakish Stage.

Conclusion: Farquhar and Anglo-Irish Drama 1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

M. Bourgeois, John Millington Synge and the Irish Theatre (London: Constable & Company, 1913), pp. 109–10. M. Kelleher and P. O’Leary (eds), The Cambridge History of Irish Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), vol. 1, p. 384. J. Leerssen, Mere Irish and Fior-Ghael: Studies in the Idea of Irish Nationality, its Development and Literary Expression prior to the Nineteenth Century (Amsterdam: Benjamins, 1986; Cork: Cork University Press, 1996), p. 102. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 29. Kelleher and O’Leary, Cambridge History of Irish Literature, vol. 1, p. 377. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 377. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 33. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 28. Kelleher and O’Leary, Cambridge History of Irish Literature, vol. 1, p. 383. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 554. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 161. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 191. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 219. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 210. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 349. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 350. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 350. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 351. Kelleher and O’Leary, Cambridge History of Irish Literature, vol. 1, p. 379. Introduction to G. Farquhar, The Beaux’ Stratagem, ed. H. M. Burke, in J. D. Canfield (gen. ed.), The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama (Lancashire: Broadview Press, 2001), p. 1278. J. Prior, The Life of Oliver Goldsmith, 2 vols (London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1837), vol. 2, p. 160. Kelleher and O’Leary, Cambridge History of Irish Literature, vol. 1, p. 379–80. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 378. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 390. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 388. D. Kiberd, Inventing Ireland (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), p. 16. D. Kiberd, The Irish Writer and the World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 23. A. Leggat, English Stage Comedy, 1490–1990 (London: Routledge, 1998), p. 3. Kelleher and O’Leary, Cambridge History of Irish Literature, vol. 1, p. 375. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 375. Works of George Farquhar, ed. Kenny, vol. 1, p. 128. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 392. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 486. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 12 and 144. Kelleher and O’Leary, Cambridge History of Irish Literature, vol. 1, p. 375.

WORKS CITED

Primary Sources [Anon.], A Comparison between the Two Stages, ed. S. B. Wells (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, [1702] 1942). —, (‘not written by Mr. Edmond Curll’), The Life of Mr. John Dennis (London: J. Roberts, 1734). Boswell, J., Boswell’s London Journal 1762–1762, ed. F. A. Pottle (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1950). —, Boswell in Search of a Wife 1766–1769, eds. F. Brady and F. A. Pottle (New York: McGrawHill, 1956), Boyer, A., Achilles; or Iphigenia in Aulis (London: Tho. Bennet, 1700). Carroll (Centlivre), S., The Perjur’d Husband; or The Adventures of Venice (London: Bennet Banbury, 1700). Centlivre, S., Love’s Contrivance, or Le Medecin malgré Lui (London: Bernard Lintott, 1703). —, The Basset-Table (London: William Turner, 1706). —, The Plays of Susanna Centlivre, ed. R. C. Frushell, 3 vols (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1982). Cibber, C., Love’s Last Shift (London: H. Rhodes, 1696). —, The Careless Husband (London: T. Johnson, 1721). —, An Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber, ed. R. W. Lowe, 2 vols (London: John C. Nimmo, 1889; New York: AMS, 1966). —, The Plays of Colley Cibber, ed. R. L. Hayley (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1980). Cockburn, C., The Works of Mrs. Catharine Cockburn … With an Account of the Life of the Author, ed. T. Birch, 2 vols (London: J. and P. Knapton, 1751). Collier, J., A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage (New York: AMS Press, [1698] 1974). Congreve, W., The Complete Plays of William Congreve, ed. H. Davis (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1967). – 159 –

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INDEX

adaptations 43, 50, 51 Addison, Joseph 80 Aesop’s fables 118–19 Alison, Maria 26 American colonies 110–11 Anglo-Irish dramatists 9, 135, 136, 142, 143–4 Archer, William 36 Aristotle 8, 114, 115, 116–17, 119 army 12–14, 98–9 Auburn, Mark S. 110 audiences 2, 16, 17–18, 39, 49, 101, 120–1, 127 addressed in Midwife 66 changing tastes 1, 6–7, 12, 15, 112 Cibber writes of 80–1 composition 11–12, 14 Farquhar writes of 55–6 in ‘A Discourse upon Comedy’ 114, 115–16, 117, 118–20 ladies 14, 30 Backscheider, Paula 64–5 Barry, Elizabeth 19, 68, 78 Beau Defeated, The 42 Behn, Aphra 133 The Rover 27, 49, 104, 133, 137 Bell, John 102, 109, 123 Bernbaum, Ernest 3, 4, 57, 70, 74, 78, 81–2, 93, 132 Bertelsen, Lance 67 Betterton, Thomas 18–20, 40, 41, 42, 78 The Prophetess 41 Booth, Barton 48, 68 Boswell, James 125 Bourgeois, Maurice 136 Bowen, William 46, 57, 92

Bowman, John 48, 68, 102–3 Bowyer, John Wilson 49, 76, 77–8 Boyer, Abel Achilles 40 Bracegirdle, Ann 78 Bradshaw, Lucretia 92 Brecht, Bertholt Trumpets and Drums 90–1 Brett, Henry 94 Bullock, Christopher 129 Bullock, William 26, 46, 51, 57, 67, 80, 87, 91, 92 Burke, Helen M. 142 Burnaby, William The Reform’d Wife 41, 42 Cameron, Jenny 67 Canfield, J. Douglas 101–2 censorship 41, 58, 112 Centlivre, Susan 8, 21, 43, 82 The Basset Table 36 The Beau’s Duel 47–50, 59, 68, 103 Bold Stroke for a Wife 113, 130–1 A Busie Body 36 The Gamester 47, 76–80, 140 casting 78 dedication 77 humour 79–80 as The Pharo Table 77 plot 77–8 The Heiress 68–9 Love’s Contrivance 68, 69–70 preface 69 The Man Bewitch’d 129 The Perjur’d Husband 21, 47 characters

166 Farquhar’s new type 118 stock 2 Charke, Charlotte 126, 127 Charles II, King 11, 12 Cibber, Colley 5, 8, 15, 16, 42, 43, 82, 124, 145 acting roles 45, 57, 87, 92 Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber 26, 41, 75–6 The Careless Husband 73–6, 81 Love Makes a Man 36 Love’s Last Shift 5, 8, 15, 20, 25, 26, characters 33–5 Perolla and Izadora 17 The Provok’d Husband 110, 130 She Wou’d and She Wou’d Not 54–5, 89 The Tragical History of King Richard III 40, 41, 42 Ximena preface 54, 80–1 Woman’s Wit 16 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 119 Collier, Jeremy A Short View of the Immorality ... 20–2, 56, 57–8, 64, 70 Collier, William 129 comedy development of 123–4, 132–3 Farquhar’s theory of 113–20 ‘A Discourse upon Comedy’ 8, 17, 113–20, 121, 123 implicit 120–3 instruction in 115, 118 sexual 12, 14, 17, 133 see also humane comedy; Restoration comedy; sentimental comedy Comparison Between the Two Stages, A 24, 40, 42, 43, 46, 50, 115 Congreve, William 21, 142 The Double-Dealer 25 Love for Love 4, 5, 8, 20, 33 The Mourning Bride 20, 41 The Old Batchelour 19 The Way of the World 41, 133 Corey, John 48 Corman, Brian 101 Covent Garden 77, 130, 143 Craftsman, The 16

Index Craufurd, David Courtship A La Mode 42 cross-dressing 67 Daily Courant 43 Davenant, Alexander 18–19 Davenant, Thomas 18 Davies, Christian 67 de la Chapelle, Jean Les Carrosses d’Orléans 122 dedications 17 Defoe, Daniel 63–5, 67 The History and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders 63–4, 65, 68 A Review of the State of the English Nation 64 Dennis, John Iphigenia 40 dialogue 26–7, 31–2, 51–2 disguise 25 divorce 94, 99–100, 105 Dorset Garden 16, 20 Drury Lane: 1695, separates from United Company 2–3, 18 (1690s) 14, 16, 20, 23–4 (1699–1700) 39–40, 42 (1701–2) 36, 43 (1702–3) 54, 55, 68, 69, 123 (1706–7) 85, 128 (after 1707) 113 (1708) 113 (1709), closed and reopened 128–9 (1714) 129 (1715–16) 92–3 (1720–1) 130 (1722) 110 (1725) 67 (1728) 110, 130 1737, Licensing Act 130 (1747) 109, 110 Dryden, John 15, 21, 41 Amphytrion 19 Essay of Dramatick Poesie 115 Marriage A-La-Mode 12 Oedipus 24 The Secular Mask 41 The Spanish Fryar 64

Index Duke’s Company 15 D’Urfey, Thomas 21 The Bath 36 Don Quixote 41 Easton, Fraser 67 Eccles, John 122 Ellis, Frank H. 3 Etherege, George 18 The Man of Mode 12, 49, 137 experimentation 1–2, 6–7, 17, 23, 39 beginnings, 1690s 18–22 (1700–1) 36 (1700–5) 43 (post-1707) 113, 131 Farquhar’s 120–1, 122 Fairbank (actor) 57, 126 Farquhar, George 2, 3, 5–6, 8–9, 18, 21–2, 23, 27, 82–3, 85–6, 98, 122, 132–3, 135, 142 The Adventures of Covent Garden 21–2 The Beaux Stratagem 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 18, 83, 85, 91–112, 121, 141 casting 92–3, 126–7 compared with The Recruiting Officer 98–100 ending 93–4, 99–100, 106–7 Foigard 96, 136, 138, 139–40 humour 95, 101 performances 101, 105–7, 111, 112, 123, 124 in Ireland 145 plots 92 published editions and revisions 17, 102–12, 123–4, 125, 144 The Constant Couple 5, 7, 8, 23, 28–33, 45, 114, 119, 120, 123, 124, 126, 127, 145 characters 28–31 dialogue 31–2 humour 30–1 impact on 1699–1700 season 39–42 legacy of 35–9 performances 28 in Ireland 145 sequels 35–9 Sir Harry 1, 28–30 death 91–2

167

‘A Discourse upon Comedy’ 8, 17, 113–20, 121, 123 The Inconstant 43, 50–4, 120 casting 51 dialogue 51–2, 53 in Ireland 145 preface 53, 122–3 Love and a Bottle 3, 7–8, 12, 18, 20, 21, 23, 24–7, 47, 114, 122, 133 characters 25–6 language 26–7 plot 24–5 Roebuck 25–6, 136–8, 139 Love and Business 113–14, 119, 122, 123 The Recruiting Officer 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 18, 64, 83, 85–91 casting 87, 126 compared with The Beaux Stratagem 98–100 experimentation 121 humour 89–90 performances 123, 124, 125, 127, 129 in Ireland 145 plot 86–7 publication 17, 125, 141, 144 setting 86 Silvia 86–9 publication of works 67–8, 102–12, 123–4, 125, 144, 145 Sir Harry Wildair 8, 36–9, 114, 119, 120 The Stage-Coach 122–3, 133, 140–1 Twin-Rivals 8, 43, 54, 55–68, 74, 123, 133, 145 casting 57 dedication 94 experimentation 120–1 Midnight 59–60, 63–8 preface 22, 55–6, 58, 64 primogeniture 62–3 publication 17 Teague 60–1, 95–6, 136, 137, 138–9, 143 Fieldhouse, William 49, 68 Fletcher, John 118, 120 The Night Walker 24 The Pilgrim 41 The Wild-goose Chase 50–1, 52, 120 Flying Post 76

168

Index

France embassy to 13 war with 12–13 Seven Years’ War 110 gambling 77, 78 Garrick, David 93, 109–10, 125, 126, 127, 145 Gay, John The Beggar’s Opera 2, 16, 28, 113, 124, 130 revisions 110 Genest, John 94 George I, King 129 George II, King 65 Giffard (actor) 126 Goldsmith, Oliver 135, 136, 142–3 She Stoops to Conquer 142 Goring, Charles Irene 128 Granville, George Heroick Love 20 Haines, Joseph 26 Halifax, George Savile, Marquis of 76 Harper (actor) 67 Haymarket see New Theatre; Queen’s Theatre Hill, Aaron Elfrid 129 Squire Brainless 129 historicism 7 Hoadly, Benjamin The Suspicious Husband 110 Hook, Mary 57 Horace 116 Howard, Sir Robert The Committee 4 Hughes, Derek 133 humane comedy 5, 6–7, 9, 23, 28, 30–1, 33, 34, 35, 36, 39, 46, 58, 74, 88, 91, 97–8, 99, 100, 124, 130, 131, 132, 133 Hume, Robert D. 3, 4–5, 12, 14–15, 24, 37, 46, 50, 51, 58, 70, 74–5, 76, 78, 81, 86, 94, 97, 129, 133 Huntingdon, George, Earl of 77 Husband, Benjamin 57

Inchbald, Elizabeth 124 Irish playwrights 136, 138 Anglo-Irish 9, 135, 136, 142, 143–4 Irish theatre 9, 145 Irishman, Stage 9, 60–1, 95–6, 135–41, 143 Jacob, Giles 56 James, Nelson 58 James II, King 7, 12 Johnson, Benjamin 46, 69 Johnson, Charles The Force of Friendship 129 Johnson, Samuel 119 Jonson, Ben 40, 118, 120 Volpone 41 Keene, Theophilus 92, 129 Kelleher, Margaret 136, 137, 142, 143 Kenny, Shirley Strum 3, 4, 5, 6, 27, 29, 56–7, 58, 67–8, 70, 80, 85, 91, 93–4, 96, 97–8, 102–3, 105, 106, 107, 114, 124, 125, 126 Kent, Mary 46, 51 Kiberd, Declan 144 King’s Company 15 Kinservik, Matthew J. 57–8 Lacy, James 109 Langhans, Edward A. 111 Lee, Mrs 49 Lee, Nathaniel Oedipus 24 The Rival Queens 24 Sophonisba 41 Leerssen, Joep 136 Leggat, Alexander 144 letters 25 Licensing Act, 1737 124, 130 Lincoln’s Inn Fields 14, 16 1695, split off from United Company 2, 18 opened 20 (1698) 23–4 (1699–1700) 39–40, 41, 42 (1702) 47, 48, 68, 122, 141 (1703) 50 (1705) 43, 76, 77 abandoned 128

Index 1714, reopened 129 (1715) 93, 126 (1716) 67, 68, 129 (1720–1) 130 (1728) 130 Lintott, Bernard 17, 102, 105–6, 113, 123 Loftis, John 3, 131 London Stage, The 4, 24, 36, 40, 56, 85, 91, 103, 122 Lucas, Jane 36, 46 Luttrell, Narcissus 13–14 Manning, Francis The Generous Choice 41 Marshall, E. 57 Midwife 63, 65, 66, 67 midwives 66, 67 Mills, John 26, 36, 45, 51, 57, 92, 97, 127 Mills, Margaret 26 Moor, Mrs 36 Motteaux, Peter Anthony 122 The Island Princess 23, 24, 41 Mounsey, Chris 65, 67 Muir, Frank 133 Murphy, Arthur Three Weeks After Marriage 142 naturalism 93 New Theatre, Haymarket 130 Nicoll, Allardyce 3, 4, 58, 74, 75, 81, 86 Norris, Henry 32, 36, 46, 51, 87, 91, 92, 126 Nottingham, Daniel Finch, Earl of 132 Novak, Maximillian 64 Oldfield, Anne 45, 67, 75–6, 80, 87, 92, 94, 128 files complaint 128 Oldmixon, John The Grove 41 O’Leary, Philip 136, 137, 142, 143 opera 3, 113, 128, 130 Otway, Thomas Venice Preserv’d 41 Oxberry, W. 111 Oxford University 64 Pack, George 48, 67, 68, 126 Pelham, Henry and Thomas 65 Penell, Margaret 85–6

169

Perry, Henry Ten Eyck 3, 4, 57 Petition of the Players 19 Pinkethman, William 26, 36, 51, 57, 80, 126 Pix, Mary The Beau Defeated 41 playwrights 6–8, 9, 11, 15 Anglo-Irish 9, 135, 136, 142, 143–4 economics 15–18 eighteenth-century 124–5 English 118, 120 experimentation see separate entry Irish 136, 138 see also names plots, Restoration 24–5 Porter, Mary 48–9 Portland, Hans William Bentinck, First Earl of 13 Potter, John 130 Powel, George 48, 68 primogeniture 62–3 Prince, Mrs 48, 68 published texts 16–17, 67–8, 125, 144–5 The Beaux Stratagem 17, 102–12, 123–4, 125, 144 Purcell, Henry Dido and Aeneas 41 The Prophetess 41 Queen’s Theatre, Haymarket 3, 91, 92, 113, 128, 129 recruiting officers 86, 98–9 Regnard, Jean François Le Jouer 77 Restoration comedy 3, 4, 5, 14–15, 131, 132 plots 24 Revels History 37, 50–1, 57, 79, 86, 87, 93, 95 Rich, Christopher 18–20, 40, 41, 42, 43, 93, 128–9 Rich, John 16, 129 Risk, George 145 Roberts, David 30 Rogers, Jane 26, 36, 45, 51, 57, 67, 87 Roscius Anglicanus 20, 40, 41 Rothstein, E. 37, 57, 58 Royal Navy 13 Ryan, Lacy 92–3, 126

170

Index

Scouten, Arthur H. 14–15 sentimental comedy 3, 4, 5, 14, 73, 74, 110, 131, 133, 143 servants 60–1 Shadwell, Charles The Fair Quaker of Deal 129 Shadwell, Thomas 14–15 The Careless Lovers 15 The Lancashire Witches 14 The Miser 15 The Squire of Alsatia 4 Shakespeare, William 40, 118, 120, 145 King Henry the Fourth 40, 41 Measure for Measure 41 The Tempest 41 sharers 15 Shaw, George Bernard 135, 136, 142 Sherbo, Arthur 3, 4, 133 Sheridan, Francis The Discovery 142 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley 93, 110, 125, 135, 136, 142–3, 144 The Rivals 142, 143–4 School for Scandal 142, 143 Sheridan, Thomas 145 Skipwith, Sir Thomas 18–19 Smart, Christopher 63, 65–7 Old Woman’s Oratory 63, 65, 66 Smith, John Harrington 14, 46–7 Snell, Hannah 67 Southerne, Thomas The Fatal Marriage 19 The Fate of Capua 42 Oroonoko 20 Sir Anthony Love 19 Stage Irishman 9, 60–1, 95–6, 135–41, 143 Steele, Richard 2, 8, 43, 82, The Christian Hero 47 The Conscious Lovers 17, 106, 110, 113, 130, 131 plot 131–2 The Funeral 36, 43–7, 55–6, 131 casting 45–6 The Lying Lover 15, 31, 47, 70–3, 74, 131 The Tender Husband 80–2, 131

dialogue 82 plot 81, 82 Stonehill, C. The Complete Works of George Farquhar 36, 37, 58, 67–8 Swiney, Owen 129 Taverner Maid’s the Mistress 128 taxation 13 Theobald, Lewis Persian Princess 128 Tomas, Tobias 45–6 Trotter, Catharine Love at a Loss 36 United Company 18–20, 23 actors’ rebellion and dissolution 2, 7, 11, 18, 19–20 Petition of the Players 19 Vanbrugh, Sir John 3, 5, 21, 42, 113, 124–5, 128, 129 Aesop 15 The Confederacy 128 The Provok’d Wife 35 The Relapse 8, 20, 35, 41, 42, 125 Verbruggen, Susanna 36, 45, 46, 51, 92 war 14, 109 American colonists 110–11 France 12–13 Seven Years’ War 110 War of the Spanish Succession 13 Wilde, Oscar 135, 136, 142 Wilks, Robert 28, 36, 45, 50, 51, 53, 57, 69, 70, 80, 87, 92, 94, 126, 128 William III, King 7, 12–14, 50 Williams, Joseph 26 Winton, Calhoun Captain Steele 46 wit 26–7, 31–2, 90 Woffington, Peg 126, 127 Wycherley, William 14, 17–18, 21 The Country Wife 12, 30, 56 The Gentleman Dancing-Master 49