# The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland/Volume 4/Sir John Vanbrugh

Sir John Vanbrugh.
This Gentleman was deſcended from an antient family in Cheſhire, which came originally from France; though by the name it would appear to be of Dutch extraction. He received a very liberal education, and became eminent for his poetry, and ſkill in architecture, to both which he discovered an early propenſion. It is ſomewhat remarkable in the Hiſtory of Poetry, that when the ſpirit of Tragedy, in a great meaſure, declined, when Otway and Lee were dead, and Dryden was approaching to old age, that Comedy ſhould then begin to flouriſh; at an Æra, which one would not have expected to prove auſpicious to the cauſe of mirth.
Much about the ſame time roſe Mr. Congreve, and Sir John Vanbrugh; who, without any invidious reflection on the genius of others, gave a new life to the ſtage, and reſtored it to reputation, which before their appearance had been for ſome time ſinking. Happy would it have been for the world, and ſome advantage to the memory of theſe comic writers, if they had diſcovered their wit, without any mixture of that licentiouſneſs, which while it pleaſed, tended to corrupt the audience.
​The firſt ſtep our author made into life, was in the character of an enſign in the army. He was poſſeſſed of a very ready wit, and an agreeable elocution. He happened ſomewhere in his winter quarters, to contract an acquaintance with Sir Thomas Skipwith, and received a particular obligation from him. He had very early diſcovered a taſte for dramatic writing, to improve which he made ſome attempts in that way, and had the draft or out-lines of two plays lying by him, at the time his acquaintance commenced with Sir Thomas. This gentleman poſſeſſed a large ſhare in a Theatrical Patent, though he very little concerned himſelf in the conduct of it; but that he might not appear altogether remiſs, he thought to procure ſome advantage to the ſtage, by having our author’s play, called the Relapſe, to be acted upon it. In this he was not diſappointed, for the Relapſe ſucceeded beyond the warmeſt expectation, and raiſed Vanbrugh’s name very high amongſt the writers for the ſtage.
Tho’ this play met with greater applauſe, than the author expected, yet it was not without its enemies. Theſe were people of the graver fort, who blamed the looſeneſs of the ſcenes, and the unguarded freedom of the dialect. Theſe complaints induced Vanbrugh to make ſome obſervations upon them in his preface, which he thus begins, ‘To go about to excuſe half the defects this abortive brat is come into the world with, would be to provoke the town with a long uſeleſs preface, when ’tis, I doubt, ſufficiently ſour’d already, by a tedious play.
‘I do therefore, with all the humility of a repenting ſinner, confeſs it wants every thing—but length, and in that I hope the ſevereſt critics will be pleaſed to acknowledge, I have not been ​wanting. But my modeſty will ſure attone for every thing, when the world ſhall know it is ſo great, I am even to this day inſenſible of thoſe two ſhining graces, in the play (which ſome part of the town is pleaſed to compliment me with) blaſphemy and bawdy. For my part I cannot find them out; if there were any obſcene expreſſions upon the ſtage, here they are in print; for I have dealt fairly, I have not ſunk a ſyllable, that could be ranged under that head, and yet I believe with a ſteady faith, there is not one woman of real reputation in town, but when ſhe has read it impartially over in her cloſet, will find it ſo innocent, ſhe’ll think it no affront to her prayer book, to lay it upon the ſame ſhelf.’
Being encouraged by the ſucceſs of the Relapſe, he yielded to the ſollicitation of lord Hallifax, who had read ſome of the looſe ſheets of his Provok’d Wife, to finiſh that piece; and after throwing them into a proper form, gave the play to the Theatre in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields. Though Sir John had a greater inclination to ſerve the other company, yet the requeſt of lord Hallifax, ſo eminent a patron of the poets, could not be reſiſted. Sir Thomas Skipwith was not offended at ſo reaſonable a compliance, and the Provok’d Wife was acted 1698, with ſucceſs. Some critics likewiſe objected againſt this, as a looſe performance; and that it taught the married women how to revenge themſelves on their huſbands, who ſhould offend them.
The play has indeed this moral, that ſuch huſbands as reſemble Sir John Brute, may expect that neglected beauty, and abuſed virtue, may be provoked to yield to the motives of revenge, ​and that the forcible ſollicitations of an agreeable perſon, who not only demonſtrates a value, but a paſſion for what the poſſeſſor ſlights, may be ſufficiently prevalent with an injured wife to forfeit her honour.
Though this event may often fall out, that the brutality of a huſband produces the infidelity of a wife, yet it need not be ſhewn upon the ſtage; women are not generally ſo tame in their natures, as to bear neglect with patience, and the natural reſentments of the human heart will without any other monitor point out the method of revenge. Beſides, every huſband ought not to be deemed a brute, becauſe a too delicate, or ceremonious wife, ſhall, in the abundance of her caprice, beſtow upon him that appellation. Many women who have beheld this repreſentation, may have been ſtimulated to imitate lady Brute in her method of revenge, without having ſuffered her provocation. This play verifies the obſervation of Mr. Pope,
That Van wants grace, who never wanted wit.
The next play which Sir John Vanburgh introduced upon the ſtage was Æſop, a Comedy; in two Parts, acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane 1698. This was originally written in French, by Mr. Bourſart, about ſix years before; but the ſcenes of Sir Polidorus Hogſtye, the Players, the Senator, and the Beau, were added by our author. This performance contains a great deal of general ſatire, and uſeful morality; notwithſtanding which, it met with but a cold reception from the audience, and its run terminated in about 8 or 9 days. This ſeemed the more ſurpriſing to men of taſte, as the French comedy from which it was taken, was played to crowded audiences for a month together. ​Sir John has rather improved upon the original by adding new ſcenes, than ſuffered it to be diminiſhed in a tranſlation, but the French and the Engliſh taſte was in that particular very different. We cannot better account for the ill ſucceſs of this excellent piece, than in the words of Mr. Cibber’s Apology for his own Life, when ſpeaking of this play, he has the following obſervation; ‘The character that delivers precepts of wiſdom, is, in ſome ſort, ſevere upon the auditor, for ſhewing him one wiſer than himſelf; but when folly is his object, he applauds himſelf for being wiſer than the coxcomb he laughs at, and who is not more pleaſed with an occaſion to commend, than to accuſe himſelf?’
Sir John Vanbrugh, it is ſaid, had great facility in writing, and is not a little to be admired for the ſpirit, eaſe, and readineſs, with which he produced his plays. Notwithſtanding his extraordinary expedition, there is a clear and lively ſimplicity in his wit, that is equally diſtant from the pedantry of learning, and the lowneſs of ſcurrility. As the face of a fine lady, with her hair undreſſed, may appear in the morning in its brighteſt glow of beauty; ſuch were the productions of Vanbrugh, adorned with only the negligent graces of nature.
Mr. Gibber obſerves, that there is ſomething ſo catching to the ear, ſo eaſy to the memory in all he wrote, that it was obſerved by the actors of his time, that the ſtile of no author whatſoever gave the memory leſs trouble than that of Sir John Vanbrugh, which he himſelf has confirmed by a pleaſing experience. His wit and humour was ſo little laboured, that his moſt entertaining ſcenes ſeemed to be no more than his common converſation committed to paper. As his ​conceptions were ſo full of life and humour, it is not much to be wondered at, if his muſe ſhould be ſometimes too warm to wait the ſlow pace of judgment, or to endure the drudgery of forming, a regular Fable to them.
That Sir John was capable of a great force of thinking, appears abundantly clear from that ſcene between Æſop and a country gentleman, who comes to complain of the bad conduct of thoſe in power. The dialogue is at once ſenſible and animated. Æſop ſhews him what he reckoned the oppreſſions of the adminiſtration, flowed from the prejudices of ignorance, contemplated through the medium of popular diſcontent. In the interview between the Beau and the Philoſopher, there is the following pretty fable. The Beau obſerves to Æſop, ‘It is is very well; it is very well, old ſpark; I ſay it is very well; becauſe I han’t a pair of plod ſhoes, and a dirty ſhirt, you think a woman won’t venture upon me for huſband.—Why now to ſhew you, old father, how little you philoſophers know the ladies.——I’ll tell you an adventure of a friend of mine.’
A Band, a Bob-wig and a Feather Attack’d a lady’s heart together, The band in a moſt learned plea, Made up of deep philoſophy, Told her, if ſhe would pleaſe to wed A reverend beard, and take inſtead Of vigorous youth, Old ſolemn truth, With books, and morals into bed, How happy ſhe would be.
The Bob, he talk’d of management, What wond’rous bleſſings Heav’n ſent
On care, and pains, and induſtry; And truly he muſt be ſo free, To own he thought your airy beaux, With powdered wigs, and dancing ſhoes, Were good for nothing (mend his ſoul) But prate and talk, and play the fool.
He ſaid, ’twas wealth gave joy, and mirth. And that to be the deareſt wife, Of one who laboured all his life, To make a mine of gold his own, And not ſpend ſixpence when he’d done Was Heaven upon earth.
When theſe two blades had done, d’ye ſee, The Feather (as it might be me) Steps out ſir from behind the ſkreen, With ſuch an air and ſuch a mien, Look you, old gentleman, in ſhort, He quickly ſpoil’d the ſtateſman’s ſport.
It prov’d ſuch ſunſhine weather, That you muſt know at the firſt beck The lady leapt about his neck, And off they went together.
The reputation which Sir John gained by his comedies was rewarded with greater advantages, than what ariſe from the uſual profits of writing for the ſtage. He was appointed Clarencieux King at Arms, a place which he ſome time held, and at laſt diſpoſed of. In Auguſt 1716 he was appointed ſurveyor of the works at Greenwich Hoſpital; he was likewiſe made comptroller-general of his Majeſty’s works, and ſurveyor of the gardens and waters, the profits of which places, collectively conſidered, muſt amount to a very conſiderable ſum.
​In ſome part of our author’s life (for we cannot juſtly aſcertain the time) he gratified an inclination of viſiting France. As curioſity no doubt induced him to paſs over to that country, he loſt no time in making ſuch obſervations as could enable him to diſcern the ſpirit, and genius of that polite people. His taſte for architecture excited him to take a ſurvey of the fortifications in that kingdom; but the ardour of his curioſity drew him into a ſnare, out of which he found great difficulty to eſcape. When he was one day ſurveying ſome fortifications with the ſtricteſt attention, he was taken notice of by an Engineer, ſecured by authority, and then carried priſoner to the Baſtile in Paris. The French were confirmed in ſuſpicions of his deſign, by ſeveral plans being found in his poſſeſſion at the time he was ſeized upon; but as the French, except in cafes of Hereſy, uſe their priſoners with gentleneſs and humanity, Sir John found his confinement ſo endurable, that he amus’d himſelf in drawing rude draughts of ſome comedies. This circumſtance raiſing curioſity in Paris, ſeveral of the nobleſſe viſited him in the Baſtile, when Sir John, who ſpoke their language with fluency and elegance, inſinuated himſelf into their favour by the vivacity of his wit, and the peculiarity of his humour. He gained ſo much upon their affections, that they repreſented him to the French King in an innocent light, and by that means procured his liberty ſome days before the ſollicitation came from England.
Sir John Vanbrugh formed a project of building a ſtately theatre in the Hay-market, for which he had intereſt enough to raiſe a ſubſcription of thirty perſons of quality at 100 l. each, in conſideration whereof, every ſubſcriber for his own life, ſhould be admitted to whatever ​entertainments ſhould be publickly performed there, without farther payment for entrance.
On the firſt ſtone that was laid in this theatre, were inſcribed the words Little Whig, as a compliment to a lady of extraordinary beauty, then the celebrated toaſt, and pride of that party. In the year 1706 when this houſe was finiſhed, Mr. Betterton and his copartners put themſelves under the direction of Sir John Vanbrugh and Mr. Congreve; imagining that the conduct of two ſuch eminent authors would reſtore their ruined affairs; but they found their expectations were too ſanguine, for though Sir John was an expeditious writer, yet Mr. Congreve was too judicious to let any thing come unfiniſhed out of his hands; beſides, every proper convenience of a good theatre had been ſacrificed to ſhew the audience a vaſt triumphal piece of architecture, in which plays, by means of the ſpaciouſneſs of the dome, could not be ſucceſsfully repreſented, becauſe the actors could not be diſtinctly heard.
Not long before this time the Italian Opera began to ſteal into England, but in as rude a diſguiſe, and as unlike itſelf as poſſible; notwithſtanding which the new monſter pleaſed, though it had neither grace, melody, nor action to recommend it. To ſtrike in therefore with the prevailing faſhion, Vanbrugh and Congreve opened their New Theatre in the Hay-market, with a tranſlated Opera, ſet to Italian muſic, called The Triumph of Love, but it met with a cold reception, being performed only three days, to thin houſes.
Immediately upon the failure of the Opera, Vanbrugh produced his comedy called The Confederacy, greatly improved from the Bourgois à la mode of Dancour. The ſucceſs of this play was not equal to its merit; for it is written in an uncommon vein of humour, and abounds with the ​moſt lively ſtrokes of raillery. The proſpects of gain from this theatre were ſo very unpromiſing, that Congreve, in a few months, gave up his ſhare and intereſt in the government wholly to Sir John Vanbrugh; who being now ſole proprietor of the houſe, was under a neceſſity to exert himſelf in its ſupport. As he had a happier talent for throwing the Engliſh ſpirit into his tranſlations of French plays, than any former author who had borrowed from them, he, in the ſame ſeaſon, gave the public three more of that kind, viz.
1. The Cuckold in Conceit, from the Cocu imaginaire of Moliere.
2. Squire Treelooby, from his Monſieur de Pourceaugnac.
3. The Miſtake, from the Depit Amoureux of the ſame Author.
However well executed theſe pieces were, yet they came to the ear in the ſame undiſtinguiſhed utterance, by which almoſt all their plays had equally ſuffered; for as few could plainly hear, it was not likely a great many would applaud.
In this ſituation it appears, that nothing but the union of the two companies could reſtore the ſtage to its former reputation.
Sir John Vanbrugh therefore, tired of theatrical management, thought of diſpoſing of his whole farm to ſome induſtrious tenant, that might put it into better condition. It was to Mr. Owen Swiny, that in the exigence of his affairs, he made an offer of his actors under ſuch agreements of ​ſalary as might be made with them; and of his houſe, cloaths, and ſcencs, with the Queen’s licenſe to employ them, upon payment of the caſual rent of five pounds every acting day, and not to exceed 700 l. per annum. With this propoſal Mr. Svviny complied, and governed that ſtage till another great theatrical revolution.
There are two plays of our author not yet mentioned, viz. The Falſe Friend, a Comedy; acted in 1698, and A Journey to London, a Comedy; which he left unfiniſhed. This laſt piece was finiſhed by Mr. Cibber to a very great advantage, and now is one of the beſt comedies in our language. Mr. Cibber, in his prologue, takes particular notice of our author’s virtuous intention in compoſing this piece, which, he ſays, was to make ſome amends for thoſe looſe ſcenes, which in the fire of his youth he had with more regard to applauſe, than virtue, exhibited to the public: but this deſign will be beſt underſtood by inſerting the prologue.
PROLOGUE.
This play took birth from principles of truth, To make amends for errors paſt, of youth. A bard that’s now no more, in riper days, Conſcious review’d the licence of his plays: And tho’ applauſe his wanton muſe had fir’d, Himſelf condemn’d what ſenſual minds admired. At length he own’d that plays ſhould let you ſee Not only what you are, but ought to be: Though vice was natural, ’twas never meant, The ſtage ſhould ſhew it, but for puniſhment! Warm with that thought his muſe once more took flame, Reſolv’d to bring licentious life to ſhame.
Such was the piece, his lateſt pen deſign’d, But left no traces of his plan behind. Luxurious ſcenes, unprun’d, or half contriv’d; Yet, through the maſs, his native fire ſurviv’d: Rough as rich oar, in mines the treaſure lay, Yet ſtill ’twas rich, and forms at length a play. In which the bold compiler boaſts no merit, But that his pains have ſav’d you ſcenes of ſpirit. Not ſcenes that would a noiſy joy impart, But ſuch as huſh the mind, and warm the heart. From praiſe of hands, no ſure account he draws, But fix’d attention is, ſincere applauſe. If then (for hard you’ll own the taſk) his art Can to thoſe Embrion-ſcenes new life impart; The living proudly would exclude his lays, And to the buried bard reſign the praiſe.
Sir John indeed appears to have been often ſenſible of the immorality of his ſcenes; for in the year 1725 when the company of comedians was called upon, in a manner that could not be reſiſted, to revive the Provok’d Wife, the author, who was conſcious how juſtly it was expoſed to cenſure, thought proper to ſubſtitute a new ſcene in the fourth act, in place of another, in which, in the wantonneſs of his wit and humour, he had made a Rake talk like a Rake, in the habit of a Clergyman. To avoid which offence, he put the ſame Debauchee into the Undreſs of a Woman of Quality; for the character of a fine lady, it ſeems, is not reckoned ſo indelibly ſacred, as that of a Churchman. Whatever follies he expoſed in the petticoat kept him at leaſt clear of his former ​imputed prophaneneſs, and appeared now to the audience innocently ridiculous.
This ingenious dramatiſt died of a quinſey at his houſe in Whitehall, on the 26th of March 1726. He was a man of a lively imagination, of a facetious, and engaging humour, and as he lived eſteemed by all his acquaintance, ſo he died without leaving one enemy to reproach his memory; a felicity which few men of public employments, or poſſeſſed of ſo diſtinguiſhed a genius, ever enjoyed. He has left behind him monuments of fame, which can never periſh but with taſte and politeneſs.