Yet, tho' 'tis too rural--to come near the mark, We all herd in _one_ walk, and that, nearest the Park, There with ease we may see, as we pa.s.s by the wicket, The chimneys of Knightsbridge and--footmen at cricket.

I must tho', in justice, declare that the gra.s.s, Which, worn by our feet, is diminished apace, In a little time more will be brown and as flat As the sand at Vauxhall or as Ranelagh mat.

Improving thus fast, perhaps, by degrees, We may see rolls and b.u.t.ter spread under the trees, With a small pretty band in each seat of the walk, To play little tunes and enliven our talk."

Though Mr. Sheridan appears to have made more easy progress, after he had incorporated his two first plots into one, yet, even in the details of the new plan, considerable alterations were subsequently made--whole scenes suppressed or transposed, and the dialogue of some entirely re- written. In the third Act, for instance, as it originally stood, there was a long scene, in which Rowley, by a minute examination of Snake, drew from him, in the presence of Sir Oliver and Sir Peter, a full confession of his designs against the reputation of Lady Teazle. Nothing could be more ill-placed and heavy; it was accordingly cancelled, and the confession of Snake postponed to its natural situation, the conclusion. The scene, too, where Sir Oliver, as Old Stanley, comes to ask pecuniary aid of Joseph, was at first wholly different from what it is at present; and in some parts approached much nearer to the confines of caricature than the watchful taste of Mr. Sheridan would permit. For example, Joseph is represented in it as giving the old suitor only half- a-guinea, which the latter indignantly returns, and leaves him; upon which Joseph, looking at the half-guinea, exclaims, "Well, let him starve--this will do for the opera."

It was the fate of Mr. Sheridan, through life,--and, in a great degree, perhaps, his policy,--to gain credit for excessive indolence and carelessness, while few persons, with so much natural brilliancy of talents, ever employed more art and circ.u.mspection in their display.

This was the case, remarkably, in the instance before us.

Notwithstanding the labor which he bestowed upon this comedy, (or we should rather, perhaps, say in consequence of that labor,) the first representation of the piece was announced before the whole of the copy was in the hands of the actors. The ma.n.u.script, indeed, of the five last scenes bears evident marks of this haste in finishing,--there being but one rough draught of them scribbled upon detached pieces of paper; while, of all the preceding acts, there are numerous transcripts, scattered promiscuously through six or seven books, with new interlineations and memorandums to each. On the last leaf of all, which exists just as we may suppose it to have been despatched by him to the copyist, there is the following curious specimen of doxology, written hastily, in the hand-writing of the respective parties, at the bottom:--

"Finished at last. Thank G.o.d!

"R. B. SHERIDAN.

"Amen!

"W. HOPKINS." [Footnote: The Prompter,]

The cast of the play, on the first night of representation (May 8, 1777), was as follows:--

Sir Peter Teazle _Mr. King._ Sir Oliver Surface _Mr. Yates._ Joseph Surface _Mr. Palmer._ Charles _Mr. Smith._ Crabtree _Mr. Parsons._ Sir Benjamin Backbite _Mr. Dodd._ Rowley _Mr. Aickin._ Moses _Mr. Baddeley._ Trip _Mr. Lamash._ Snake _Mr. Packer._ Careless _Mr. Farren._ Sir Harry b.u.mper _Mr. Gawdry._ Lady Teazle _Mrs. Abington._ Maria _Miss P. Hopkins_ Lady Sneerwell _Miss Sherry._ Mrs. Candor _Miss Pope._

The success of such a play, so acted, could not be doubtful. Long after its first uninterrupted run, it continued to be played regularly two or three times a week; and a comparison of the receipts of the first twelve nights, with those of a later period, will show how little the attraction of the piece had abated by repet.i.tion:--

May 8th, 1777. L s. d.

School for Scandal 225 9 0 Ditto 195 6 0 Ditto A. B. (Author's night) 73 10 0 (Expenses) Ditto 257 4 6 Ditto 243 0 0 Ditto A. B. 73 10 0 Committee 65 6 6 School for Scandal 262 19 6 Ditto 263 13 6 Ditto A. B 73 10 0 Ditto K. (the King) 272 9 6 Ditto 247 15 0 Ditto 255 14 0

The following extracts are taken at hazard from an account of the weekly receipts of the Theatre, for the year 1778, kept with exemplary neatness and care by Mrs. Sheridan herself: [Footnote: It appears from a letter of Holcroft to Mrs. Sheridan, (given in his Memoirs, vol. i. p. 275,) that she was also in the habit of reading for Sheridan the new pieces sent in by dramatic candidates:--"Mrs. Crewe (he says) has spoken to Mr.

Sheridan concerning it (the Shepherdess of the Alps), as he informed me last night, desiring me at the same time to send it to you, who, he said, would not only read it yourself, but remind him of it."]

1778. L s. d.

January 3d. Twelfth Night Queen Mab 139 14 6 5th. Macbeth Queen Mab 212 19 0 6th. Tempest Queen Mab 107 15 6 7th. School for Scandal Comus 292 16 0 8th. School for Fathers Queen Mab 181 10 6 9th. School for Scandal Padlock 281 6 0

March 14th. School for Scandal Deserter 263 18 6 16th. Venice Preserved Belphegor (New) 195 3 6 17th. Hamlet Belphegor 160 19 0 19th. School for Scandal Belphegor 261 10 0

Such, indeed, was the predominant attraction of this comedy during the two years subsequent to its first appearance, that, in the official account of receipts for 1779, we find the following remark subjoined by the Treasurer:--"School for Scandal damped the new pieces." I have traced it by the same unequivocal marks of success through the years 1780 and 1781, and find the nights of its representation always rivalling those on which the King went to the theatre, in the magnitude of their receipts.

The following note from Garrick [Footnote: Murphy tells us that Mr.

Garrick attended the rehearsals, and "was never known on any former occasion to be more anxious for a favorite piece. He was proud of the new manager; and in a triumphant manner boasted of the genius to whom he had consigned the conduct of the theatre."--_Life of Garrick_.] to the author, dated May 12 (four days after the first appearance of the comedy), will be read with interest by all those for whom the great names of the drama have any charm:--

"MR. GARRICK'S best wishes and compliments to Mr. Sheridan.

"How is the Saint to-day? A gentleman who is as mad as myself about ye School remark'd, that the characters upon the stage at ye falling of the screen stand too long before they speak;--I thought so too ye first night:--he said it was the same on ye 2nd, and was remark'd by others;-- tho' they should be astonish'd, and a little petrify'd, yet it may be carry'd to too great a length.--All praise at Lord Lucan's last night."

The beauties of this Comedy are so universally known and felt, that criticism may be spared the trouble of dwelling upon them very minutely.

With but little interest in the plot, with no very profound or ingenious development of character, and with a group of personages, not one of whom has any legitimate claims upon either our affection or esteem, it yet, by the admirable skill with which its materials are managed,--the happy contrivance of the situations, at once both natural and striking, --the fine feeling of the ridiculous that smiles throughout, and that perpetual play of wit which never tires, but seems, like running water, to be kept fresh by its own flow,--by all this general animation and effect, combined with a finish of the details almost faultless, it unites the suffrages, at once, of the refined and the simple, and is not less successful in ministering to the natural enjoyment of the latter, than in satisfying and delighting the most fastidious tastes among the former. And this is the true triumph of genius in all the arts,--whether in painting, sculpture, music, or literature, those works which have pleased the greatest number of people of all cla.s.ses, for the longest s.p.a.ce of time, may without hesitation be p.r.o.nounced the best; and, however mediocrity may enshrine itself in the admiration of the select few, the palm of excellence can only be awarded by the many.

The defects of The School for Scandal, if they can be allowed to amount to defects, are, in a great measure, traceable to that amalgamation of two distinct plots, out of which, as I have already shown, the piece was formed. From this cause,--like an acc.u.mulation of wealth from the union of two rich families,--has devolved that excessive opulence of wit, with which, as some critics think, the dialogue is overloaded; and which Mr. Sheridan himself used often to mention, as a fault of which he was conscious in his work. That he had no such scruple, however, in writing it, appears evident from the pains which he took to string upon his new plot every bright thought and fancy which he had brought together for the two others; and it is not a little curious, in turning over his ma.n.u.script, to see how the outstanding jokes are kept in recollection upon the margin, till he can find some opportunity of funding them to advantage in the text. The consequence of all this is, that the dialogue, from beginning to end, is a continued sparkling of polish and point: and the whole of the Dramatis Personae might be comprised under one common designation of Wits. Even Trip, the servant, is as pointed and shining as the rest, and has his master's wit, as he has his birth- day clothes, "with the gloss on." [Footnote: This is one of the phrases that seem to have perplexed the taste of Sheridan,--and upon so minute a point, as, whether it should be "with the gloss on," or, "with the gloss on them." After various trials of it in both ways, he decided, as might be expected from his love of idiom, for the former.] The only personage among them that shows any "temperance in jesting," is old Rowley; and he, too, in the original, had his share in the general largess of _bon-mots_,--one of the liveliest in the piece [Footnote: The answer to the remark, that "charity begins at home,"--"and his, I presume, is of that domestic sort which never stirs abroad at all."]

being at first given to him, though afterwards transferred, with somewhat more fitness, to Sir Oliver. In short, the entire Comedy is a sort of El-Dorado of wit, where the precious metal is thrown about by all cla.s.ses, as carelessly as if they had not the least idea of its value.

Another blemish that hypercriticism has noticed, and which may likewise be traced to the original conformation of the play, is the uselessness of some of the characters to the action or business of it--almost the whole of the "Scandalous College" being but, as it were, excrescences, through which none of the life-blood of the plot circulates. The cause of this is evident:--Sir Benjamin Backbite, in the first plot to which he belonged, was a princ.i.p.al personage; but, being transplanted from thence into one with which he has no connection, not only he, but his uncle Crabtree, and Mrs. Candor, though contributing abundantly to the animation of the dialogue, have hardly anything to do with the advancement of the story; and, like the accessories in a Greek drama, are but as a sort of Chorus of Scandal throughout. That this defect, or rather peculiarity, should have been observed at first, when criticism was freshly on the watch for food, is easily conceivable; and I have been told by a friend, who was in the pit on the first night of performance, that a person, who sat near him, said impatiently, during the famous scene at Lady Sneerwell's, in the Second Act,--"I wish these people would have done talking, and let the play begin."

It has often been remarked as singular, that the lovers, Charles and Maria, should never be brought in presence of each other till the last scene; and Mr. Sheridan used to say, that he was aware, in writing the Comedy, of the apparent want of dramatic management which such an omission would betray; but that neither of the actors, for whom he had destined those characters, was such as he could safely trust with a love scene. There might, perhaps, too, have been, in addition to this motive, a little consciousness, on his own part, of not being exactly in his element in that tender style of writing, which such a scene, to make it worthy of the rest, would have required; and of which the specimens left us in the serious parts of The Rivals are certainly not among his most felicitous efforts.

By some critics the incident of the screen has been censured, as a contrivance unworthy of the dignity of comedy. [Footnote: "In the old comedy, the catastrophe is occasioned, in general, by a change in the mind of some princ.i.p.al character, artfully prepared and cautiously conducted;--in the modern, the unfolding of the plot is effected by the overturning of a screen, the opening of a door, or some other equally dignified machine."--GIFFORD, _Essay on the Writings of Ma.s.singer_.] But in real life, of which comedy must condescend to be the copy, events of far greater importance are brought about by accidents as trivial; and in a world like ours, where the falling of an apple has led to the discovery of the laws of gravitation, it is surely too fastidious to deny to the dramatist the discovery of an intrigue by the falling of a screen. There is another objection as to the manner of employing this machine, which, though less grave, is perhaps less easily answered. Joseph, at the commencement of the scene, desires his servant to draw the screen before the window, because "his opposite neighbor is a maiden lady of so anxious a temper;" yet, afterwards, by placing Lady Teazle between the screen and the window, he enables this inquisitive lady to indulge her curiosity at leisure. It might be said, indeed, that Joseph, with the alternative of exposure to either the husband or neighbor, chooses the lesser evil;--but the oversight hardly requires a defence.

From the trifling nature of these objections to the dramatic merits of the School for Scandal, it will be seen, that, like the criticism of Momus on the creaking of Venus's shoes, they only show how perfect must be the work in which no greater faults can be found. But a more serious charge has been brought against it on the score of morality, and the gay charm thrown around the irregularities of Charles is p.r.o.nounced to be dangerous to the interests of honesty and virtue. There is no doubt that in this character only the fairer side of libertinism is presented,-- that the merits of being in debt are rather too fondly insisted upon, and with a grace and spirit that might seduce even creditors into admiration. It was, indeed, playfully said, that no tradesman who applauded Charles could possibly have the face to dun the author afterwards. In looking, however, to the race of rakes that had previously held possession of the stage, we cannot help considering our release from the contagion of so much coa.r.s.eness and selfishness to be worth even the increased risk of seduction that may have succeeded to it; and the remark of Burke, however questionable in strict ethics, is, at least, true on the stage,--that "vice loses half its evil by losing all its grossness."

It should be recollected, too, that, in other respects, the author applies the lash of moral satire very successfully. That group of slanderers who, like the Chorus of the Eumenides, go searching about for their prey with "eyes that drop poison," represent a cla.s.s of persons in society who richly deserve such ridicule, and who--like their prototypes in Aeschylus trembling before the shafts of Apollo--are here made to feel the full force of the archery of wit. It is indeed a proof of the effect and use of such satire, that the name of "Mrs. Candor" has become one of those formidable bye-words, which have more power in putting folly and ill-nature out of countenance, than whole volumes of the wisest remonstrance and reasoning.

The poetical justice exercised upon the Tartuffe of sentiment, Joseph, is another service to the cause of morals, which should more than atone for any dangerous embellishment of wrong that the portraiture of the younger brother may exhibit. Indeed, though both these characters are such as the moralist must visit with his censure, there can be little doubt to which we should, in real life, give the preference;--the levities and errors of the one, arising from warmth of heart and of youth, may be merely like those mists that exhale from summer streams, obscuring them awhile to the eye, without affecting the native purity of their waters; while the hypocrisy of the other is like the _mirage_ of the desert, shining with promise on the surface, but all false and barren beneath.

In a late work, professing to be the Memoirs of Mr. Sheridan, there are some wise doubts expressed as to his being really the author of the School for Scandal, to which, except for the purpose of exposing absurdity, I should not have thought it worth while to allude. It is an old trick of Detraction,--and one, of which it never tires,--to father the works of eminent writers upon others; or, at least, while it kindly leaves an author the credit of his worst performances, to find some one in the background to ease him of the fame of his best. When this sort of charge is brought against a cotemporary, the motive is intelligible; but, such an abstract pleasure have some persons in merely unsettling the crowns of Fame, that a worthy German has written an elaborate book to prove, that the Iliad was written, not by that particular Homer the world supposes, but by some _other_ Homer! Indeed, if mankind were to be influenced by those _Qui tam_ critics, who have, from time to time, in the course of the history of literature, exhibited informations of plagiarism against great authors, the property of fame would pa.s.s from its present holders into the hands of persons with whom the world is but little acquainted. Aristotle must refund to one Ocellus Luca.n.u.s --Virgil must make a _cess...o...b..norum_ in favor of Pisander--the Metamorphoses of Ovid must be credited to the account of Parthenius of Nicaea, and (to come to a modern instance) Mr. Sheridan must, according to his biographer, Dr. Watkins, surrender the glory of having written the School for Scandal to a certain anonymous young lady, who died of a consumption in Thames Street!

To pa.s.s, however, to less hardy a.s.sailants of the originality of this comedy,--it is said that the characters of Joseph and Charles were suggested by those of Blifil and Tom Jones; that the incident of the arrival of Sir Oliver from India is copied from that of the return of Warner in Sidney Biddulph; and that the hint of the famous scandal scene at Lady Sneerwell's is borrowed from a comedy of Moliere.

Mr. Sheridan, it is true, like all men of genius, had, in addition to the resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what suited his purpose in the wit of others, and a power of enriching whatever he adopted from them with such new grace, as gave him a sort of claim of paternity over it, and made it all his own. "C'est mon bien," said Moliere, when accused of borrowing, "et je le reprens partout ou je le trouve;" and next, indeed, to creation, the re-production, in a new and more perfect form, of materials already existing, or the full development of thoughts that had but half blown in the hands of others, are the n.o.blest miracles for which we look to the hand of genius. It is not my intention therefore to defend Mr. Sheridan from this kind of plagiarism, of which he was guilty in common with the rest of his fellow-descendants from Prometheus, who all steal the spark wherever they can find it. But the instances, just alleged, of his obligations to others, are too questionable and trivial to be taken into any serious account. Contrasts of character, such as Charles and Joseph exhibit, are as common as the lights and shadows of a landscape, and belong neither to Fielding nor Sheridan, but to nature. It is in the manner of transferring them to the canvas that the whole difference between the master and the copyist lies; and Charles and Joseph would, no doubt, have been what they are, if Tom Jones had never existed. With respect to the hint supposed to be taken from the novel of his mother, he at least had a right to consider any aid from that quarter as "son bien"--talent being the only patrimony to which he had succeeded. But the use made of the return of a relation in the play is wholly different from that to which the same incident is applied in the novel. Besides, in those golden times of Indian delinquency, the arrival of a wealthy relative from the East was no very un.o.bvious ingredient in a story.

The imitation of Moliere (if, as I take for granted, the Misanthrope be the play, in which the origin of the famous scandal scene is said to be found) is equally faint and remote, and, except in the common point of scandal, untraceable. Nothing, indeed, can be more unlike than the manner in which the two scenes are managed. Celimene, in Moliere, bears the whole _frais_ of the conversation; and this female La Bruyere's tedious and solitary dissections of character would be as little borne on the English stage, as the quick and dazzling movement of so many lancets of wit as operate in the School for Scandal would be tolerated on that of the French.

It is frequently said that Mr. Sheridan was a good deal indebted to Wycherley; and he himself gave, in some degree, a color to the charge, by the suspicious impatience which he betrayed whenever any allusion was made to it. He went so far, indeed, it is said, as to deny having ever read a line of Wycherley (though of Vanbrugh's dialogue he always spoke with the warmest admiration);--and this a.s.sertion, as well as some others equally remarkable, such as, that he never saw Garrick on the stage, that he never had seen a play throughout in his life, however strange and startling they may appear, are, at least, too curious and characteristic not to be put upon record. His acquaintance with Wycherley was possibly but at second-hand, and confined, perhaps, to Garrick's alteration of the Country Wife, in which the incident, already mentioned as having been borrowed for the Duenna, is preserved. There is, however, a scene in the Plain Dealer (Act II.), where Nevil and Olivia attack the characters of the persons with whom Nevil had dined, of which it is difficult to believe that Mr. Sheridan was ignorant: as it seems to contain much of that _Hyle_, or First Matter, out of which his own more perfect creations were formed.

In Congreve's Double Dealer, too, (Act III. Scene 10) there is much which may, at least, have mixed itself with the recollections of Sheridan, and influenced the course of his fancy--it being often found that the images with which the memory is furnished, like those pictures hung up before the eyes of pregnant women at Sparta, produce insensibly a likeness to themselves in the offspring which the imagination brings forth. The admirable drollery in Congreve about Lady Froth's verses on her coachman--

"For as the sun shines every day, So of our coachman I may say"--

is by no means unlikely to have suggested the doggerel of Sir Benjamin Backbite; and the scandalous conversation in this scene, though far inferior in delicacy and ingenuity to that of Sheridan, has somewhat, as the reader will see, of a parental resemblance to it:--

"_Lord Froth._ Hee, hee, my dear; have you done? Won't you join with us? We were laughing at my lady Whifler and Mr. Sneer.

"_Lady F._ Ay, my dear, were you? Oh, filthy Mr. Sneer! he is a nauseous figure, a most fulsamick fop. He spent two days together in going about Covent Garden to suit the lining of his coach with his complexion.

"_Ld. F._ Oh, silly! yet his aunt is as fond of him, as if she had brought the ape into the world herself.

"_Brisk._ Who? my Lady Toothless? Oh, she is a mortifying spectacle; she's always chewing the cud like an old ewe,

"_Ld. F._ Then she's always ready to laugh, when Sneer offers to speak; and sits in expectation of his no jest, with her gums bare, and her mouth open--

"_Brisk._ Like an oyster at low ebb, egad--ha, ha, ha!

"_Cynthia._ _(Aside.)_ Well, I find there are no fools so inconsiderable themselves, but they can render other people contemptible by exposing their infirmities.

"_Lady F._ Then that t'other great strapping Lady--I can't hit off her name: the old fat fool, that paints so exorbitantly.

"_Brisk._ I know whom you mean--but, deuce take her, I can't hit off her name either--paints, d'ye say? Why she lays it on with a trowel.

Then she has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look as if she was plastered with lime and hair, let me perish."

It would be a task not uninteresting, to enter into a detailed comparison of the characteristics and merits of Mr. Sheridan, as a dramatic writer, with those of the other great masters of the art; and to consider how far they differed or agreed with each other, in the structure of their plots and management of their dialogue--in the mode of laying the train of their repartee, or pointing the artillery of their wit. But I have already devoted to this part of my subject a much ampler s.p.a.ce, than to some of my readers will appear either necessary or agreeable;--though by others, more interested in such topics, my diffuseness will, I trust, be readily pardoned. In tracking Mr. Sheridan through his too distinct careers of literature and of politics, it is on the highest point of his elevation in each that the eye naturally rests; and the School for Scandal in one, and the Begum speeches in the other, are the two grand heights--the "_summa biverticis umbra Parna.s.si_"

--from which he will stand out to after times, and round which, therefore, his biographer may be excused for lingering with most fondness and delay.