[SOURCE.]
The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt was written (in great part at least) by Mrs. Behn a good many years before her death, after which it was brought on the stage under the auspices of Gildon, in 1696; and in the Epistle Dedicatory he expressly says ‘all the Alterations which I made were in the first Act, in removing that old bustle about Whigg and Tory (which was the subject of most of the Second Scene) and placing the Character of a Rake-hell in its room.’ Mrs. Behn probably wrote the first Act sometime about the years 1681-3, when there was a continual ‘rout with Whigging and with Torying’, and afterwards completed the remainder at her leisure. In his notice of this comedy Langbaine’s editor (Gildon), who finds Mirtilla ‘genteel’, says that Astrea took a portion of the plot ‘from a true story of the brother of Col. Henry Martin, and a Lady that must be nameless. See the Novel call’d Hatige.’ Hattige: or, the Amours of the King of Tamaran. A Novel, by Gabriel de Brémond, was translated in 1680. (12mo. For Simon the African: Amsterdam, [R. Bentley? London.]) A biting satire on Charles II and Lady Castlemaine, the tale is told with considerable spirit and attained great vogue. Another edition was issued in 1683, and under the title The Beautiful Turk it is to be found in A Select Collection of Novels (1720 and 1729), Vol. III. This novel had first appeared anonymously at Cologne in 1676—Hattigé ou la Belle Turque, qui contient ses amours avec le roi Tamaran—and Nodier in his Mélanges d’une petite Bibliothèque describes a ‘clef’. Hattigé is, of course, Lady Castlemaine; Tamaran, Charles II; and the handsome Rajeb with whom the lady deceives the monarch, Jack Churchill. It is a wanton little book, and at the time must have been irresistibly piquant. Beyond the likeness between the characters of Mirtilla and Hattigé the novel has, however, little in common with Mrs. Behn’s play. Gildon’s comment is, of course, founded upon the passage in Oroonoko which says: ‘We met on the river with Colonel Martin, a man of great gallantry, wit and goodness, and whom I have celebrated in a character of my new comedy by his own name in memory of so brave a man.’
In D’Urfey’s The Royalist, an excellent comedy produced at Dorset Garden, 1682 (4to, 1682), the author introduces a certain damsel Philippa, who, disguised as a page, follows the loyal Sir Charles Kinglove with whom she is enamoured. At the end of the second Act her boy’s clothes involve her in the same predicament as befalls Olivia in Act iv of The Younger Brother. Although Genest prefers Mrs. Behn’s treatment of the situation, it must, I think, be allowed that D’Urfey has managed the jest with far greater verve and spirit. Honest Tom D’Urfey is in fact one of the least read and most maligned of all our dramatists. He had the merriest comic gifts, and perhaps when the critics and literary historians deign to read his plays he will attain a higher position in our theatrical libraries.
Some critics have suggested that D’Urfey, in his The Intrigues at Versailles, produced at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 1697, may have taken a hint from Mrs. Behn’s Mirtilla, and Wycherley’s Olivia (The Plain Dealer) for his ‘Madame de Vandosme a right jilt in all humours’, a rôle created by Mrs. Barry. There is indeed some resemblance between all these three characters, base heartless coquettes; and D’Urfey, in making his jilt prefer Sir Blunder Bosse, ‘a dull sordid brute and mongrel, whose humour is to call everybody by clownish names’, to all her other gallants, seems not to have forgotten Mirtilla’s marriage with Sir Morgan Blunder. The very names call attention to the plagiarism. The Intrigues at Versailles is none the less a clever and witty comedy, but a little overcrowded with incident and business.
[THEATRICAL HISTORY.]
As sufficiently explained by Gildon, under whose auspices this posthumous play was produced at Drury Lane in 1696, The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt met with brutal treatment from the audience. There appears to have been a faction, particularly in evidence at its first performance and on the third day, who were steadfastly resolved to damn the comedy, and in spite of fine acting and every advantage it was hissed from the boards. Gildon attributes the failure to ‘the tedious Scenes in Blank Verse betwixt Mirtilla and Prince Frederick’ which he thinks demanded ‘another more easy Dress,’ but, in truth, it can only be attributed to the most verjuiced spite and personal malice. The plot, though somewhat complicated with perhaps a press of crowding incidents, is none the less highly interesting, and the characters are most of them excellently, all well, drawn and sustained. The fact that certain episodes had to be cut in representation in order to bring the comedy within a reasonable time limit, though it may have tended to obscure the connection of the intrigue, could not have insured in spite of its many real merits so absolute a doom for the much maltreated play, a sentence which seems to have wantonly precluded any revival.
[THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY]
TO
[Collonel Codrington].
The unjust Sentence this Play met with before very partial Judges in the Acting, will, I’m pretty sure, be revers’d by the more unprejudiced Readers, and it’s evident, Merit will exert itself so far, as to justify my Presumption in Dedicating it, notwithstanding its small success, to you, Sir, for whom I must always profess the highest Esteem and Value, sprung from that Nobleness of your Nature that takes a God-like Delight in redressing the Misfortunes of ’em, more than fly to you for their unhappiness; a generous Soul indeed, never gives a greater Proof of her Excellence, than in her Protection of the Unfortunate; for tho suffering Merit challenges a Regard from all, yet it meets with it from none but such as you, Sir, who are so Eminent for that Vertue, which more than all the rest, commands the Esteem and Veneration of the Thinking World, your Generosity I mean, Sir, which gives the most Perfect Touches of that likeness, man can have to his Almighty Original; for those are but scurvey awkard Copies of Him that want it. ’Tis, I may say, the very Essence of God, Who with our Beings, dispenses the grateful Knowledge of Himself in the Benefits He bestows.
[The narrow Virtues of the Old Philosophers, [which] were] rather Vices, if winnow’d well, form’d to gratify their Proud, Lazy, Superiority, at the Expence of all the Publick Duties incumbent on mankind, whom they pretend to Purge from his Passions, to make him happy, by that means to amuse our Curiosity with Chymera’s, whilst we lost our real Good, will still naturally flow from those Springs of Pleasure, Honour, Glory, and Noble Actions, the Passions given us by Heaven for our common Good. But their own Practice generally shew’d the Vanity of their Emperic Boasts, when they Buried all the Nobler Pleasures of the Mind in Avarice, and Pedantick Pride, as Lucian has pleasantly made out in Hermotimus.
Those Notional Excellencies that divert us from, or weaken a Publick Spirit, are always False and Hypocritical, that under a gaudy out-side conceals a rotten Carcass, full of Infectious Distempers that destroy the noblest end of our Being, The doing good to one another. Vanity has always been the Refuge of little Souls, that place their Value in a False Greatness, Hyppocrisie, and great Titles. What a seeming Holiness does for the Avaritious, Designing Saint; Titles do for the proud Avarice of the meer Man of Quality, cheaply Purchasing a Respect from the many; but ’tis the Generous man only that fixes himself in the Hearts of the most valuable part of mankind, when proper Merit only is esteem’d, and the Man, not his Equipage, and Accidental Appurtenances respected.