The Fine Ladys Airs | Page 2

though somewhat farcical, has verve throughout,
and the dialogue crackles. And, as regards the nature of comedy, Baker
now knows where he stands. There is no character who could possibly
be taken as an "example." On the contrary, whenever a pathetic or
"exemplary" effect seems imminent Hillaria or Woodcock is always
there to knock it on the head. Thus when Belinda goes into blank verse
to lament the paternal tyranny which was threatening to separate her
from Reynard,
What Noise and Discord sordid Interest breeds! Oh! that I had shar'd a
levell'd State of Life, With quiet humble Maids, exempt from Pride,
And Thoughts of Worldly Dross that marr their Joys, In Any Sphere,
but a Distinguished Heiress, To raise me Envy, and oppose my Love.
Fortune, Fortune, Why did you give me Wealth to make me wretched!
Hillaria comes in:
Belinda in Tears--Now has that old Rogue been Plaguing her--Poor
Soul!... Come, Child, Let's retire, and take a Chiriping Dram, Sorrow's
dry; I'le divert you with the New Lampoon, 'tis a little Smutty; but what
then; we Women love to read those things in private. _(Exeunt)_
Within a year Baker had another play ready--An Act at Oxford, with the
scene laid in the university town and some of the characters Oxford
types. Whether through objections by the University authorities or not
(they would perhaps have thought themselves justified in bringing
pressure, for Baker certainly does not treat his alma mater with great
respect) the play in this form was not acted. Baker published it in 1704,
in the Dedication referring to "the most perfect Enjoyment of Life, I
found at Oxford" and disclaiming any intention to give offence, he then

salvaged most of the play in a revision, Hampstead Heath (D.L. Oct.
1705), with the scene changed to Hampstead. It is as non-edifying as
_Tunbridge-Walks_. The note is struck on the first page, when Captain
Smart, who has been trying to read a new comedy entitled Advice to All
Parties, flings it down with expressions of ennui; shortly thereafter
Deputy Driver, a member of a Reforming Society, appears on the scene
to be twitted because while pretending to reform the whole world he
can't keep his own wife from gadding; and matters proceed with
Smart's project to trick a skittish independence-loving heiress into
keeping a compact she had made to marry him, and his friend Bloom's
attempts at the cagey virtue of Mrs. Driver. The latter project comes to
nothing, but both hunter and hunted find pleasure in the chase while it
lasts. When Mrs. D. returns to the Deputy at the end, her motive for
reassuming his yoke is a sound one-- she's out of funds; and her advice
to him, "If you'd check my Rambling, loose my Reins," is sound
Wycherleyan sense. It must be admitted that when one compares the
dialogue of Hampstead Heath with that of the Act some punches are
shown to have been pulled in the revision.[4] While keeping the play
comic Baker still did not wish to push the audience too far.
In December, 1708 he made his fourth and (as it proved) final try for
fame and fortune in the theatre with _The fine Lady's Airs,_ He claims
that it was well received (see Dedication) and he had his third night, but
D'Urfey, whose enmity Baker had incurred, says (Pref. to _The Modern
Prophets_) that the play was "hist," and The British Apollo, which
carried on a feud with Baker in August and September of 1709, makes
the same assertion in several places.[5] This, to be sure, is testimony
from enemies. But obviously the play was far less liked than
_Tunbridge-Walks_ had been, and thus (to compare a small man with a
great one) Baker's experience was something like Congreve's, when,
after the great success of _Love for Love, The Way of the World_ won
only a tepid reception. And it is chiefly Congreve whom he takes for
his model; the play is an attempt at a level of comedy higher than Baker
had aimed at before. He does not always succeed: Congreve's kind of
writing was not natural to Baker, and the lines sometimes labor. Still,
the Bleinheim-Lady Rodomont duel has merit; and Sir Harry Sprightly
(though of course he owes something to Farquhar's Wildair), Mrs.

Lovejoy, and Major Bramble are all in Baker's best manner. On the
whole it was a better play than the audience in 1708 deserved.
Presumably Baker felt this, for he wrote no more for the stage.
Most of the account of Baker's life pulled together in the DNB article
on him has a decidedly apocryphal ring to it. The statement (first made
in The Poetical Register, 1719) that he was "Son of an Eminent
Attorney of the City of London" sounds like something manufactured
out of