This comedy, by a favourite writer, had a reception,on the first night of its appearance, far inferior tothat of his other productions. It was, with difficulty,saved from condemnation; and the author, in his preface,has boldly charged some secret enemies withhaving attempted its destruction.
Dramatic authors have fewer enemies at the presentperiod, or they have more humility, than formerly.For now, when their works are hissed fromthe stage, they acknowledge they have had a fair trial,and deserve their fate. Wherefore should an authorseek for remote causes, to account for his failures,when to himself alone, he is certain ever to impute allhis success?
Neither the wit, humour, nor the imitation of nature,in this play, are of that forcible kind, with whichthe audience had been usually delighted by Farquhar;and, that the moral gave a degree of superiorityto this drama, was, in those days, of little consequence:the theatre was ordained, it was thought,for mere pleasure, nor did any one wish it shoulddegenerate into instruction.
It may be consolatory to the disappointed authorsof the present day, to find, how the celebrated authorof this comedy was incommoded with theatricalcrosses. He was highly offended, that his play wasnot admired; still more angry, that there was anempty house, on his sixth night, and more angrystill, that the Opera House, for the benefit of aFrench dancer, was, about this time, filled even to theannoyance of the crowded company. The followingare his own words on the occasion:
"It is the prettiest way in the world of despisingthe French king, to let him see that we can afford moneyto bribe his dancers, when he, poor man, has exhaustedall his stock, in buying some pitiful townsand principalities. What can be a greater complimentto our generous nation, than to have the lady onher re-tour to Paris, boast of her splendid entertainmentin England: of the complaisance, liberty, andgood nature of a people, who thronged her house sofull, that she had not room to stick a pin; and left apoor fellow, who had the misfortune of being oneof themselves, without one farthing, for half a year'spains he had taken for their entertainment."
This complaint is curious, on account of the talentsof the man who makes it; and, for the same cause,highly reprehensible. If Farquhar, thought himselfsuperior to the French dancer, why did he honourher by a comparison? and, if he wanted bread,why did he not suffer in silence, rather than insinuate,he should like to receive it, through themedium of a benefit?
A hundred years of refinement (the exact timesince this author wrote) may have weakened the forceof the dramatic pen; but it has, happily, elevatedauthors above the servile spirit of dedications, or themeaner practice, of taking public benefits.
As the moral of this comedy has been mentionedas one of its highest recommendations, it must beadded—that, herein, the author did not invent, butmerely adopt, as his own, an occurrence whichtook place in Paris, about that period, just as he hasrepresented it in his last act. The Chevalier deChastillon was the man who is perso