The Palmy Days of Nance Oldfield | Page 2

one authority Mrs. Voss was Anne's aunt.
We adhere, however, to Dr. Doran's account of the relationship.]
George Farquhar--how his name conjures up a vision of all that is
brilliant, rakish, and bibulous in the expiring days of the seventeenth
century! It is easy to picture him, as he stands near the congenial bar of
the tavern, entranced by the liquid tones and marvellous expression of
Nance's youthful voice. He has a whimsical, good-humoured face,
perhaps showing the rubicund effects of steady drinking (as whose
features did not in those halcyon times of merry nights and tired
mornings?), and a general air of loving the world and its pleasures,
despite a secret suspicion that a hard-hearted bailiff may be lying in
wait around the corner. His flowing wig may seem a trifle old, the
embroidery on his once resplendent vest look sadly tarnished, and the
cloth of his skirted coat exhibit the unmistakable symptoms of age, but,
for all that, Captain Farquhar stands forth an honourable, high-spirited
gentleman. And gentleman George Farquhar is both by birth and
bearing. Was he not the son of genteel parents living in the North of
Ireland, and did he not receive a polite education at the University in
Dublin? So polite, indeed, has his training been that he is already the
author of that wonderful "Love and a Bottle," a comedy wherein he
amusingly holds the mirror up to English vices, including his own. And,
speaking of vices, he can now look back to those salad days when he
wrote verses of unimpeachable morality, setting forth, among other
sentiments, that--
"The pliant Soul of erring Youth Is, like soft Wax, or moisten'd Clay,
Apt to receive all heav'nly Truth, Or yield to Tyrant Ill the Sway. Shun
Evil in your early Years, And Manhood may to Virtue rise; But he who,
in his Youth, appears A Fool, in Age will ne'er be wise."
Poor fellow! He never will be wise in the material sense; he will trip
gracefully through life with more brains and bonhomie than worldly
discretion, yet eclipsing many steadier companions by writing the

"Recruiting Officer" and other sparkling plays, not forgetting "The
Inconstant," which will last even unto the end of the nineteenth century.
At present--and 'tis the present rather than the past or future that most
concerns the captain--he holds a commission in the army, which he is
foolish enough to relinquish later on, and he has come to the very
sensible conclusion that he is far more at home in the writing of
comedies than the acting therein. For he has been on the stage, and
precipitately retired therefrom after accidently wounding a fellow
performer[A]. In the course of two or three years Farquhar will make a
desperate attempt to be mercenary by marrying a girl whom he
supposes to be wealthy; he will find out his mistake, and then, like the
thoroughbred that he is, will go on cherishing her as though she had
brought him a ton of rent-rolls. When he is dead and gone, Chetwood,
the veteran prompter of Drury Lane, will tell us, quaintly enough, how
"it was affirm'd, by some of his near Acquaintance, his unfortunate
Marriage shortened his Days; for his Wife (by whom he had two
Daughters), through the Reputation of a great Fortune, trick'd him into
Matrimony. This was chiefly the Fault of her Love, which was so
violent that she was resolved to use all Arts to gain him. Tho' some
Husbands, in such a Case, would have proved _mere Husbands_, yet he
was so much charm'd with her Love and Understanding, that he liv'd
very happy with her. Therefore when I say an unfortunate Marriage,
with other Circumstances, conducted to the shortening of his Days; I
only mean that his Fortune, being too slender to support a Family, led
him into a great many Cares and Inconveniences."
[Footnote A: Farquhar was playing in "The Indian Emperor" being cast
for Guyomar, a character whose pleasant duty it is to kill Vasquez, the
Spanish general. This particular Guyomar forgot to change his sword
for a theatre foil, and in the subsequent encounter gave Vasquez too
realistic a punishment].
No one would have appreciated the unconscious humour of Chetwood's
assertion about "some husbands" more than Farquhar himself. One
trembles to think, by the way what a "mere husband" must have been in
the reigns of William or Anne.

In the meantime we are almost forgetting young Mistress Oldfield, who
is still reading the "Scornful Lady," and putting new life and grace into
lines which nowadays seem a bit academic and musty. The captain has
not forgotten her, however; on the contrary, he is so charmed with what
he hears that he makes some flimsy excuse to get into that room behind
the bar whence