Was descended of a Family of no mean
rank in the North of Ireland; we have been informed
that his father was dean of Armagh, but we have not
met with a proper confirmation of this circumstance;
but it is on all hands agreed, that he was the son
of a clergyman, and born at London-Derry in that kingdom,
in the year 1678, as appears from Sir James Ware’s
account of him. There he received the rudiments
of education, and discovered a genius early devoted
to the Muses; Before he was ten years of age he gave
specimens of his poetry, in which, force of thinking,
and elegance of turn and expression are manifest; and
if the author, who has wrote Memoirs of his life,
may be credited, the following stanza’s were
written by him at that age,
The pliant soul of erring youth,
Is like soft wax, or moisten’d
clay;
Apt to receive all heavenly truth
Or yield to tyrant ill the
sway.
Slight folly in your early years,
At manhood may to virtue rise;
But he who in his youth appears
A fool, in age will ne’er
be wise.
His parents, it is said, had a numerous
family, so could bestow no fortune upon him, further
than a genteel education. When he was qualified
for the university, he was, in 1694, sent to Trinity
College in Dublin: here, by the progress he made
in his studies, he acquired a considerable reputation,
but it does not appear, that he there took his degree
of bachelor of arts; for his disposition being volatile
and giddy, he soon grew weary of a dull collegiate
life; and his own opinion of it, in that sense, he
afterwards freely enough displayed in several parts
of his comedies, and other writings. Besides,
the expence of it, without any immediate prospect
of returns, might be inconsistent with his circumstances.
The polite entertainments of the town more forcibly
attracted his attention, especially the diversions
of the Theatre, for which, he discovered a violent
propension. When Mr. Ashbury, who then was
manager of Dublin Theatre, had recruited his company
with the celebrated Mr. Wilks (who had for some seasons
engaged with Mr. Christopher Rich at Drury-Lane, from
whom his encouragement was not equal to his merit)
Farquhar having acquaintance with him, Mr. Wilks,
was soon introduced upon the stage by his means, where
he did not long continue, nor make any considerable
figure. His person was sufficiently advantageous,
he had a ready memory, proper gesture, and just elocution,
but then he was unhappy in his voice, which had not
power enough to rouse the galleries, or to rant with
any success; besides, he was defective in point of
assurance, nor could ever enough overcome his natural
timidity. His more excellent talents however might,
perhaps, have continued the player at Dublin, and
lost the poet at London; but for an accident, which
was likely to turn a feigned tragedy into a real one:
The story is this.
Mr. Farquhar was extremely beloved
in Ireland; having the advantage of a good person,
though his voice was weak; he never met with the least
repulse from the audience in any of his performances:
He therefore resolved to continue on the stage till
something better should offer, but his resolution
was soon broke by an accident. Being to play the
part of Guyomar in Dryden’s Indian Emperor,
who kills Vasquez, one of the Spanish generals; and
forgetting to exchange his sword for a foil, in the
engagement he wounded his brother tragedian, who acted
Vasquez, very dangerously; and though it proved not
mortal, yet it so shocked the natural tenderness of
Mr. Farquhar’s temper, that it put a period to
his acting ever after.
Soon after this, Mr. Wilks received
from Mr. Rich a proposal of four pounds a week, if
he would return to London (such was the extent of the
salaries of the best players in that time, which, in
our days, is not equal to that of a second rate performer)
which he thought proper to accept of; and Mr. Farquhar,
who now had no inducement to remain at Dublin, accompanied
Mr. Wilks to London, in the year 1696. Mr. Wilks,
who was well acquainted with the humour and abilities
of our author, ceased not his solicitation ’till
he prevailed upon him to write a play, assuring him,
that he was considered by all who knew him in a much
brighter light than he had as yet shewn himself, and
that he was fitter to exhibit entertaining compositions
for the stage, than to echo those of other poets upon
it.
But he received still higher encouragement
by the patronage of the earl of Orrery, who was a
discerner of merit, and saw, that as yet, Mr. Farquhar’s
went unrewarded. His lordship conferred a lieutenant’s
commission upon him in his own regiment then in Ireland,
which he held several years and, as an officer,
he behaved himself without reproach, and gave several
instances both of courage and conduct: Whether
he received his commission before or after he obliged
the town with his first comedy, we cannot be certain.
In the year 1698, his first Comedy
called Love and a Bottle appeared on the stage, and
for its sprightly dialogue, and busy scenes was well
received by the audience, though Wilks had no part
in it. In 1699 the celebrated Mrs. Anne Oldfield
was, partly upon his judgment, and recommendation,
admitted on the Theatre.
Now we have mentioned Mrs. Oldfield,
we shall present the reader with the following anecdote
concerning that celebrated actress, which discovers
the true manner of her coming on the stage; the account
we have from a person who belonged to Mr. Rich, in
a letter he wrote to the editor of Mrs. Oldfield’s
Life, in which it is printed in these words;
Sir,
In your Memoirs of Mrs. Oldfield, it may
not be amiss to insert the following facts, on the
truth of which you may depend. Her father,
captain Oldfield, not only run out all the military,
but the paternal bounds of his fortune, having a
pretty estate in houses in Pall-mall. It was
wholly owing to captain Farquhar, that Mrs. Oldfield
became an actress, from the following incident;
dining one day at her aunt’s, who kept the
Mitre Tavern in St. James’s Market, he heard
miss Nanny reading a play behind the bar, with so
proper an emphasis, and so agreeable turns suitable
to each character, that he swore the girl was cut
out for the stage, for which she had before always
expressed an inclination, being very desirous to
try her fortune that way. Her mother, the next
time she saw captain Vanburgh, who had a great respect
for the family, told him what was captain Farquhar’s
opinion; upon which he desired to know whether in
the plays she read, her fancy was most pleased with
tragedy or comedy; miss being called in, said comedy,
she having at that time gone through all Beaumont
and Fletcher’s comedies, and the play she
was reading when captain Farquhar dined there, was
the Scornful Lady. Captain Vanburgh, shortly
after, recommended her to Mr. Christopher Rich,
who took her into the house at the allowance of
fifteen shillings a week. However, her agreeable
figure, and sweetness of voice, soon gave her the
preference, in the opinion of the whole town, to
all our young actresses, and his grace the late
duke of Bedford, being pleased to speak, to Mr.
Rich in her favour, he instantly raised her allowance
to twenty shillings a week; her fame and salary
at last rose to her just merit,
Your humble servant,
No, 1730.
Charles TAYLOUR.’
In the beginning of the year 1700,
Farquhar brought his Constant Couple, or Trip to the
Jubilee, upon the stage, it being then the jubilee
year at Rome; but our author drew so gay, and airy
a figure in Sir Harry Wildair, so suited to Mr. Wilks’s
talents, and so animated by his gesture, and vivacity
of spirit, that it is not determined whether the poet
or the player received most reputation by it.
Towards the latter end of this year we meet with Mr.
Farquhar in Holland, probably upon his military duty,
from whence he has given a description in two of his
letters dated that year from Brill, and from Leyden,
no less true than humorous, as well of those places
as the people; and in a third, dated from the Hague
he very facetiously relates how merry he was there,
at a treat made by the earl of Westmoreland, while,
not only himself, but king William, and other of his
subjects were detained there by a violent storm, which
he has no less humorously described, and has, among
his poems, written also an ingenious copy of verses
to his mistress on the same subject. Whether
this mistress was the same person he calls his charming
Penelope, in several of his love letters addressed
to her, we know not, but we have been informed by
an old officer in the army, who well knew Mr. Farquhar,
that by that name we are to understand Mrs. Oldfield,
and that the person meant by Mrs. V
in one of them, said to be her bedfellow, was Mrs.
Verbruggen the actress, the same who was some years
before Mrs. Mountfort, whom Mrs. Oldfield succeeded,
(when Mrs. V died some years after
in child-bed) with singular commendation, in her principal
parts; and from so bright a flame it was no wonder
that Farquhar was more than ordinarily heated.
The author of Mrs. Oldfield’s life says, that
she has often heard her mention some agreeable hours
she spent with captain Farquhar: As she was a
lady of true delicacy, nor meanly prostituted herself
to every adorer, it would be highly ungenerous to
suppose, that their hours ever passed in criminal
freedoms. And ’tis well known, whatever
were her failings, she wronged no man’s wife;
nor had an husband to injure.
Mr. Farquhar, encouraged by the success
of his last piece, made a continuation of it in 1701,
and brought on his Sir Harry Wildair; in which Mrs.
Oldfield received as much reputation, and was as greatly
admired in her part, as Wilks was in his.
In the next year he published his
Miscellanies, or Collection of Poems, Letters, and
Essays, already mentioned, and which contain a variety
of humorous, and pleasant sallies of fancy: There
is amongst them a copy of verses addressed to his
dear Penelope, upon her wearing her Masque the evening
before, which was a female fashion in those days, as
well at public walks, as among the spectators at the
Playhouse. These verses naturally display his
temper and talents, and will afford a very clear idea
of them; and therefore we shall here insert them.
’The arguments you made use
of last night for keeping on your masque, I endeavoured
to defeat with reason, but that proving ineffectual,
I’ll try the force of rhyme, and send you the
heads of our chat, in a poetical dialogue between
You and I.’
You.
Thus images are veil’d which you
adore;
Your ignorance does raise your zeal the
more.
I.
All image worship for false zeal is held;
False idols ought indeed to be conceal’d.
You.
Thus oracles of old were still receiv’d;
The more ambiguous, still the more believ’d.
I.
But oracles of old were seldom true,
The devil was in them, sure he’s
not in you.
You.
Thus mask’d in mysteries does the
godhead stand:
The more obscure, the greater his command.
I.
The Godhead’s hidden power would
soon be past,
Did we not hope to see his face at last.
You.
You are my slave already sir, you know,
To Shew more charms, would but increase your woe,
I scorn an insult to a conquer’d foe.
I.
I am your slave, ’tis true, but
still you see, All slaves by nature struggle to
be free; But if you would secure the stubborn prize,
Add to your wit, the setters of your eyes; Then
pleas’d with thraldom, would I kiss my chain
And ne’er think more of liberty again.
It is said, some of the letters of
which we have been speaking, were published from the
copies returned him at his request, by Mrs. Oldfield,
and that she delighted to read them many years after
they were printed, as she also did the judicious essay
at the end of them, which is called a Discourse upon
Comedy, in Reference to the English Stage; but what
gives a yet more natural and lively representation
of our author still, is one among those letters, which
he calls the Picture, containing a description and
character of himself, which we should not now omit
transcribing, if his works were not in every body’s
hands.
In 1703 came out another Comedy, entitled
the Inconstant, or the Way to Win Him, which had sufficient
merit to have procured equal success to the rest;
but for the inundation of Italian, French, and other
farcical interruptions, which, through the interest
of some, and the depraved taste of others, broke in
upon the stage like a torrent, and swept down before
thorn all taste for competitions of a more intrinsic
excellence. These foreign monsters obtained partisans
amongst our own countrymen, in opposition to English
humour, genuine wit, and the sublime efforts of genius,
and substituted in their room the airy entertainments
of dancing and singing, which conveyed no instruction,
awakened no generous passion, nor filled the breast
with any thing great or manly. Such was the prevalence
of these airy nothings, that our author’s comedy
was neglected for them, and the tragedy of Phaedra
slid Hippolitus, which for poetry is equal to any
in our tongue, (and though Mr. Addison wrote the prologue,
and Prior the epilogue) was suffered to languish, while
multitudes flocked to hear the warblings of foreign
eunuchs, whose highest excellence, as Young expresses
it, was,
‘Nonsense well tun’d with
sweet stupidity.’
Very early in the year 1704, a farce:
called the Stage Coach, in the composition whereof
he was jointly concerned with another, made its first
appearance in print, and it has always given satisfaction.
Mr. Farquhar had now been about a
twelve-month married, and it was at first reported,
to a great fortune; which indeed he expected, but was
miserably disappointed. The lady had fallen in
love with him, and so violent was her passion, that
she resolved to have him at any rate; and as she knew
Farquhar was too much dissipated in life to fall in
love, or to think of matrimony unless advantage was
annexed to it, she fell upon the stratagem of giving
herself out for a great fortune, and then took an
opportunity of letting our poet know that she was in
love with him. Vanity and interest both uniting
to persuade Farquhar to marry, he did not long delay
it, and, to his immortal honour let it be spoken, though
he found himself deceived, his circumstances embarrassed,
and his family growing upon him, he never once upbraided
her for the cheat, but behaved to her with, all the
delicacy, and tenderness of an indulgent husband.
His next comedy named the Twin-Rivals,
was played in 1705.
Our poet was possessed of his commission
in the army when the Spanish expedition was made under
the conduct of the earl of Peterborough, tho’
it seems he did not keep it long after, and tho’
he was not embarked in that service, or present at
the defeat of the French forces, and the conquest
of Barcelona; yet from some military friends in that
engagement, he received such distinct relations of
it in their epistolary correspondency, that he wrote
a poem upon the subject, in which he has made the
earl his hero. Two or three years after it was
written, the impression of it was dedicated by the
author’s widow to the same nobleman, in which
are some fulsome strains of panegyric, which perhaps
her necessity excited her to use, from a view of enhancing
her interest by flattery, which if excusable at all,
is certainly so in a woman left destitute with a family,
as she was.
In 1706 a comedy called the Recruiting
Officer was acted at the theatre-royal. He dedicates
to all friends round the Wrekin, a noted hill near
Shrewsbury, where he had been to recruit for his company;
and where, from his observations on country-life,
the manner that serjeants inveigle clowns to enlist,
and the behaviour of the officers towards the milk-maids
and country-wenches, whom they seldom fail of debauching,
he collected matter sufficient to build a comedy upon,
and in which he was successful: Even now that
comedy fails not to bring full houses, especially
when the parts of Captain Plume, Captain Brazen, Sylvia,
and Serjeant Kite are properly disposed of.
His last play was the Beaux Stratagem,
of which he did not live to enjoy the full success.
Of this pleasing author’s untimely
end, we can give but a melancholy account.
He was oppressed with some debts which
obliged him to make application to a certain noble
courtier, who had given him formerly many professions
of friendship. He could not bear the thought that
his wife and family would want, and in this perplexity
was ready to embrace any expedient for their relief.
His pretended patron persuaded him to convert his
commission into the money he wanted, and pledged his
honour, that in a very short time he would provide
him another. This circumstance appeared favourable,
and the easy bard accordingly sold his commission;
but when he renewed his application to the nobleman,
and represented his needy situation, the latter had
forgot his promise, or rather, perhaps, had never
resolved to fulfil it.
This distracting disappointment so
preyed upon the mind of Mr. Farquhar, who saw nothing
but beggary and want before him, that by a sure, tho’
not sudden declension of nature, it carried him off
this worldly theatre, while his last play was acting
in the height of success at that of Drury-lane; and
tho’ the audience bestowed the loudest applauses
upon the performance, yet they could scarce forbear
mingling tears with their mirth for the approaching
loss of its author, which happened in the latter end
of April 1707, before he was thirty years of age.
Thus having attended our entertaining
dramatist o’er the contracted stage of his short
life, thro’ the various characters he performed
in it, of the player, the lover, and the husband,
the soldier, the critic, and the poet, to his final
catastrophe, it is here time to close the scene.
However, we shall take the liberty to subjoin a short
character of his works, and some farther observations
on his genius.
It would be injurious to the memory
of Wilks not to take notice here, of his generous
behaviour towards the two daughters of his deceased
friend. He proposed to his brother managers,
(who readily came into it) to give each of them a
benefit, to apprentice them to mantua-makers; which
is an instance amongst many others that might be produced,
of the great worth of that excellent comedian.
The general character which has been
given of Mr. Farquhar’s comedies is, ’That
the success of the most of them far exceeded the author’s
expectations; that he was particularly happy in the
choice of his subjects, which he took care to adorn
with a variety of characters and incidents; his style
is pure and unaffected, his wit natural and flowing,
and his plots generally well contrived. He lashed
the vices of the age, tho’ with a merciful hand;
for his muse was good-natured, not abounding over-much
with gall, tho’ he has been blamed for it by
the critics: It has been objected to him, that
he was too hasty in his productions; but by such only
who are admirers of stiff and elaborate performances,
since with a person of a sprightly fancy, those things
are often best, that are struck off in a heat.
It is thought that in all his heroes, he generally
sketched out his own character, of a young, gay, rakish
spark, blessed with parts and abilities. His works
are loose, tho’ not so grossly libertine, as
some other wits of his time, and leave not so pernicious
impressions on the imagination as other figures of
the like kind more strongly stampt by indelicate and
heavier hands.’
He seems to have been a man of a genius
rather sprightly than great, rather flow’ry
than solid; his comedies are diverting, because his
characters are natural, and such as we frequently meet
with; but he has used no art in drawing them, nor
does there appear any force of thinking in his performances,
or any deep penetration into nature; but rather a
superficial view, pleasant enough to the eye, though
capable of leaving no great impression on the mind.
He drew his observations chiefly from those he conversed
with, and has seldom given any additional heightening,
or indelible marks to his characters; which was the
peculiar excellence of Shakespear, Johnson, and Congreve.
Had he lived to have gained a more
general knowledge of life, or had his circumstances
not been straitened, and so prevented his mingling
with persons of rank, we might have seen his plays
embellished with more finished characters, and with
a more polished dialogue.
He had certainly a lively imagination,
but then it was capable of no great compass; he had
wit, but it was of no peculiar a sort, as not to gain
ground upon consideration; and it is certainly true,
that his comedies in general owe their success full
as much to the player, as to any thing intrinsically
excellent in themselves.
If he was not a man of the highest
genius, he seems to have had excellent moral qualities,
of which his behaviour to his wife and tenderness
to his children are proofs, and deserved a better fate
than to die oppressed with want, and under the calamitous
apprehensions of leaving his family destitute:
While Farquhar will ever be remembered with pleasure
by people of taste, the name of the courtier who thus
inhumanly ruined him, will be for ever dedicated to
infamy.