'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 Vanbrugh introduced upon the stage was Aesop, 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. Cibber 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 Aesop and a country gentleman, who comes to complain of the bad conduct of those in power. The dialogue is at once sensible and animated. Aesop 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 Aesop, 'It 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.