There are some books, like some people, of whom we form an indulgent opinion without finding it easy to justify1 our liking2. The young man who went to the life-insurance office and reported that his father had died of no particular disease, but just of "plain death," would sympathise with the feeling I mention. Sometimes we like a book, not for any special merit, but just because it is what it is. The rare, and yet not celebrated3, miscellany of which I am about to write has this character. It is not instructive, or very high-toned, or exceptionally clever, but if it were a man, all people that are not prigs would say that it was a very good sort of fellow. If it be, as it certainly is, a literary advantage for a nondescript collection of trifles, to reproduce minutely the personality of its writer, then Love and Business has one definite merit. Wherever we dip into its pages we may use it as a telephone, and hear a young Englishman, of the year 1700, talking to himself and to his friends in the most unaffected accents.
Captain George Farquhar, in 1702, was four-and-twenty years of age. He was a smart, soldier-like Irishman, of "a splenetic and amorous4 complexion," half an actor, a quarter a poet, and altogether a very honest and gallant5 gentleman. He had taken to the stage kindly6 enough, and at twenty-one had written Love and a Bottle. Since then, two other plays, The Constant Couple and Sir Harry7 Wildair, had proved that he had wit and fancy, and knew how to knit them together into a rattling8 comedy. But he was poor, always in pursuit of that timid wild-fowl, the occasional guinea, and with no sort of disposition9 to settle down into a heavy citizen. In order to bring down a few brace10 of golden game, he shovels11 into Lintott's hands his stray verses of all kinds, a bundle of letters he wrote from Holland, a dignified12 essay or discourse13 upon Comedy, and, with questionable14 taste perhaps, a set of copies of the love-letters he had addressed to the lady who became his wife. All this is not very praiseworthy, and as a contribution to literature it is slight indeed; but, then, how genuine and sincere, how guileless and picturesque16 is the self-revelation of it! There is no attempt to make things better than they are, nor any pandering17 to a cynical18 taste by making them worse. Why should he conceal19 or falsify? The town knows what sort of a fellow George Farquhar is. Here are some letters and some verses; the beaux at White's may read them if they will, and then throw them away.
As we turn the desultory20 pages, the figure of the author rises before us, good-natured, easygoing, high-coloured, not bad-looking, with an air of a gentleman in spite of his misfortunes. We do not know the exact details of his military honours. We may think of him as swaggering in scarlet21 regimentals, but we have his own word for it that he was often in mufti. His mind is generally dressed, he says, like his body, in black; for though he is so brisk a spark in company, he suffers sadly from the spleen when he is alone. We can follow him pretty closely through his day. He is a queer mixture of profanity and piety22, of coarseness and loyalty23, of cleverness and density24; we do not breed this kind of beau nowadays, and yet we might do worse, for this specimen25 is, with all his faults, a man. He dresses carefully in the morning, in his uniform or else in his black suit. When he wants to be specially26 smart, as, for instance, when he designs a conquest at a birthday-party, he has to ferret among the pawnbrokers27 for scraps28 of finery, or secure on loan a fair, full-bottom wig29. But he is not so impoverished30 that he cannot on these occasions give his valet and his barber plenty of work to do preparing his face with razors, perfumes and washes. He would like to be Sir Fopling Flutter, if he could afford it, and gazes a little enviously31 at that noble creature in his French clothes, as he lounges luxuriantly past him in his coach with six before and six behind.
Poor Captain Farquhar begins to expect that he himself will never be "a first-rate Beau." So, on common mornings, a little splenetic, he wanders down to the coffee-houses and reads the pamphlets, those which find King William glorious, and those that rail at the watery33 Dutch. He will even be a little Jacobitish for pure foppery, and have a fling at the Church, but in his heart he is with the Ministry34. He meets a friend at White's, and they adjourn35 presently to the Fleece Tavern36, where the drawer brings them a bottle of New French and a neat's tongue, over which they discuss the doctrine37 of predestination so hotly that two mackerel-vendors burst in, mistaking their lifted voices for a cry for fish. His friend has business in the city, and so our poet strolls off to the Park, and takes a turn in the Mall with his hat in his hand, prepared for an adventure or a chat with a friend. Then comes the play, the inevitable38 early play, still, even in 1700, apt to be so rank-lipped that respectable ladies could only appear at it in masks. It was the transition period, and poor Comedy, who was saying good-bye to literature, was just about to console herself with modesty39.
However, a domino may slip aside, and Mr. George Farquhar notices a little lady in a deep mourning mantua, whose eyes are not to be forgotten. She goes, however; it is useless to pursue her; but the music raises his soul to such a pitch of passion that he is almost melancholy40. He strolls out into Spring Garden, but there, "with envious32 eyes, I saw every Man pick up his Mate, whilst I alone walked like solitary41 Adam before the Creation of his Eve; but the place was no Paradise to me; nothing I found entertaining but the Nightingale." So that in those sweet summer evenings of 1700, over the laced and brocaded couples promenading42 in Spring Garden, as over good Sir Roger twelve years later, the indulgent nightingale still poured her notes. To-day you cannot hear the very bells of St. Martin's for the roar of the traffic. So lonely, and too easily enamoured, George has to betake himself to the tavern, and a passable Burgundy. There is no idealism about him. He is very fit for repentance43 next morning. "The searching Wine has sprung the Rheumatism44 in my Right Hand, my Head aches, my Stomach pukes." Our poor, good-humoured beau has no constitution for this mode of life, and we know, though happily he dreams not of it, that he is to die before he reaches thirty.
This picture of Farquhar's life is nowhere given in the form just related, but not one touch in the portrait but is to be found somewhere in the frank and easy pages of Love and Business. The poems are of their age and kind. There is a "Pindarick," of course; it was so easy to write one, and so reputable. There are compliments in verse to one of the female wits who were writing then for the stage, Mrs. Trotter, author of the Fatal Friendship; there are amatory explanations of all kinds. When he fails to keep an appointment with a lady on account of the rain—for there were no umbrellas in those days—he likens himself to Leander, wistful on the Sestian shore. He is not always very discreet45; Damon's thoughts when "Night's black Curtain o'er the World was spread" were very innocent, but such as we have decided46 nowadays to say nothing about. It was the fashion of the time to be outspoken47. There is no value, however, in the verse, except that it is graphic48 now and then. The letters are much more interesting. Those sent from Holland in the autumn of 1700 are very good reading. I make bold to quote one passage from the first, describing the storm he encountered in crossing. It depicts49 our hero to the life, with all his inconsistencies. He says: "By a kind of Poetical50 Philosophy I bore up pretty well under my Apprehensions51; though never worse prepared for Death, I must confess, for I think I never had so much Money about me at a time. We had some Ladies aboard, that were so extremely sick, that they often wished for Death, but were damnably afraid of being drown'd. But, as the Scripture52 says, 'Sorrow may last for a Night, but Joy cometh in the Morning,'" and so on. The poor fellow means no harm by all this, as Hodgson once said of certain remarks of Byron's.
The love-letters are very curious. It is believed that the sequel of them was a very unhappy marriage. Captain Farquhar was of a loving disposition, and as inflammable as a hay-rick. He cannot have been much more than twenty-one when he described what he desired in a wife. "O could I find," he said—
O could I find (Grant, Heaven, that once I may!)
A Nymph fair, kind, poetical and gay
Whose Love should blaze, unsullied and divine.
Lighted at first by the bright Lamp of mine.
Free as a Mistress, faithful as a wife.
And one that lov'd a Fiddle53 as her Life,
Free from all sordid54 Ends, from Interest free,
For my own Sake affecting only me,
What a blest union should our Souls combine!
I hers alone, and she be only mine!
It does not seem a very exacting55 ideal, but the poor poet missed it. Whether Mrs. Farquhar loved a fiddle as her life is not recorded, but she certainly was not free from all sordid ends and unworthy tricks. The little lady in the mourning mantua soon fell in love with our gallant spark, and when he made court to her, she represented herself as very wealthy. The deed accomplished56, Mrs. Farquhar turned out to be penniless; and the poet, like a gentleman as he was, never reproached her, but sat down cheerfully to a double poverty. In Love and Business the story does not proceed so far. He receives Miss Penelope V——'s timid advances, describes himself to her, is soon as much in love with his little lady as she with him, and is making broad demands and rich-blooded confidences in fine style, no offence taken where no harm is meant. In one of the letters to Penelope we get a very interesting glance at a famous, and, as it happens, rather obscure, event—the funeral of the great Dryden, in May 1700. Farquhar says:
"I come now from Mr. Dryden's Funeral, where we had an Ode in Horace sung, instead of David's Psalms57; whence you may find that we don't think a Poet worth Christian58 Burial; the Pomp of the Ceremony was a kind of Rhapsody, and fitter, I think, for Hudibras than him; because the Cavalcade59 was mostly Burlesque60; but he was an extraordinary Man, and bury'd after an extraordinary Fashion; for I believe there was never such another Burial seen; the Oration61 indeed was great and ingenious, worthy15 the Subject, and like the Author [Dr. Garth], whose Prescriptions62 can restore the Living, and his Pen embalm63 the Dead. And so much for Mr. Dryden, whose Burial was the same with his Life,—Variety, and not of a Piece. The Quality and Mob, Farce64 and Heroicks, the Sublime65 and Ridicule66 mixt in a Piece, great Cleopatra in a Hackney Coach."
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1 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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2 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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3 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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4 amorous | |
adj.多情的;有关爱情的 | |
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5 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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6 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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7 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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8 rattling | |
adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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9 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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10 brace | |
n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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11 shovels | |
n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 );锹;推土机、挖土机等的)铲;铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 );锹;推土机、挖土机等的)铲;铲形部份 | |
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12 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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13 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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14 questionable | |
adj.可疑的,有问题的 | |
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15 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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16 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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17 pandering | |
v.迎合(他人的低级趣味或淫欲)( pander的现在分词 );纵容某人;迁就某事物 | |
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18 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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19 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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20 desultory | |
adj.散漫的,无方法的 | |
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21 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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22 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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23 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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24 density | |
n.密集,密度,浓度 | |
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25 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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26 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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27 pawnbrokers | |
n.当铺老板( pawnbroker的名词复数 ) | |
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28 scraps | |
油渣 | |
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29 wig | |
n.假发 | |
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30 impoverished | |
adj.穷困的,无力的,用尽了的v.使(某人)贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 );使(某物)贫瘠或恶化 | |
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31 enviously | |
adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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32 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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33 watery | |
adj.有水的,水汪汪的;湿的,湿润的 | |
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34 ministry | |
n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
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35 adjourn | |
v.(使)休会,(使)休庭 | |
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36 tavern | |
n.小旅馆,客栈;小酒店 | |
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37 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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38 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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39 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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40 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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41 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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42 promenading | |
v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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43 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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44 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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45 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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46 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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47 outspoken | |
adj.直言无讳的,坦率的,坦白无隐的 | |
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48 graphic | |
adj.生动的,形象的,绘画的,文字的,图表的 | |
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49 depicts | |
描绘,描画( depict的第三人称单数 ); 描述 | |
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50 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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51 apprehensions | |
疑惧 | |
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52 scripture | |
n.经文,圣书,手稿;Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》,《圣经》中的一段 | |
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53 fiddle | |
n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
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54 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
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55 exacting | |
adj.苛求的,要求严格的 | |
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56 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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57 psalms | |
n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 );圣诗;圣歌;(中的) | |
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58 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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59 cavalcade | |
n.车队等的行列 | |
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60 burlesque | |
v.嘲弄,戏仿;n.嘲弄,取笑,滑稽模仿 | |
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61 oration | |
n.演说,致辞,叙述法 | |
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62 prescriptions | |
药( prescription的名词复数 ); 处方; 开处方; 计划 | |
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63 embalm | |
v.保存(尸体)不腐 | |
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64 farce | |
n.闹剧,笑剧,滑稽戏;胡闹 | |
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65 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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66 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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