“Sir B. No, no, he suspects nothing as yet.
“Mar. For, within these few days, I almost believed that he suspects me.
“Sir B. Never fear, he does not love well enough to be quick sighted; for just now he taxed me with eloping with his sister.
“Mar. Well, we had now best join the company.
“[Exeunt.]
“Cler. So, now — who can ever have faith in woman! D — d deceitful wanton! why did she not fairly tell me that she was weary of my addresses? that, woman-like, her mind was changed, and another fool succeeded.
“Enter LADY SNEERWELL.
“Lady S. Clerimont, why do you leave us? Think of my losing this hand. (Cler. She has no heart) — five mate — (Cler. Deceitful wanton!) spadille.
“Cler. Oh yes, ma’am— ’twas very hard.
“Lady S. But you seem disturbed; and where are Maria and Sir Benjamin? I vow I shall be jealous of Sir Benjamin.
“Cler. I dare swear they are together very happy, — but, Lady Sneerwell — you may perhaps often have perceived that I am discontented with Maria. I ask you to tell me sincerely — have you ever perceived it?
“Lady S. I wish you would excuse me.
“Cler. Nay, you have perceived it — I know you hate deceit.”
* * * * *
I have said that the other sketch, in which Sir Peter and Lady Teazle are made the leading personages, was written subsequently to that of which I have just given specimens. Of this, however, I cannot produce any positive proof. There is no date on the manuscripts, nor any other certain clue, to assist in deciding the precedency of time between them. In addition to this, the two plans are entirely distinct, — Lady Sneerwell and her associates being as wholly excluded from the one, as Sir Peter and Lady Teazle are from the other; so that it is difficult to say, with certainty, which existed first, or at what time the happy thought occurred of blending all that was best in each into one.
The following are the Dramatis Personae of the second plan: —
Sir Rowland Harpur.
—— Plausible.
Capt. Harry Plausible.
Freeman.
Old Teazle. [Footnote: The first intention was, as appears from his introductory speech, to give Old Teazle the Christian name of Solomon. Sheridan was, indeed, most fastidiously changeful in his names. The present Charles Surface was at first Clerimont, then Florival, then Captain Harry Plausible, then Harry Pliant or Pliable, then Young Harrier, and then Frank — while his elder brother was successively Plausible, Pliable, Young Pliant, Tom, and, lastly, Joseph Surface. Trip was originally called Spunge; the name of Snake was in the earlier sketch Spatter, and, even after the union of the two plots into one, all the business of the opening scene with Lady Sneerwell, at present transacted by Snake, was given to a character, afterwards wholly omitted, Miss Verjuice.] (Left off trade.)
Mrs. Teazle.
Maria.
From this list of the personages we may conclude that the quarrels of Old Teazle and his wife, the attachment between Maria and one of the Plausibles, and the intrigue of Mrs. Teazle with the other, formed the sole materials of the piece, as then constructed. [Footnote: This was most probably the “two act Comedy,” which he announced to Mr. Linley as preparing for representation in 1775.] There is reason too to believe, from the following memorandum, which occurs in various shapes through these manuscripts, that the device of the screen was not yet thought of, and that the discovery was to be effected in a very different manner —
“Making love to aunt and niece — meeting wrong in the dark — some one coming — locks up the aunt, thinking it to be the niece.”
I shall now give a scene or two from the Second Sketch — which shows, perhaps, even more strikingly than the other, the volatilizing and condensing process which his wit must have gone through, before it attained its present proof and flavor.
“ACT I. — SCENE I
“OLD TEAZLE alone.
“In the year 44 I married my first wife; the wedding was at the end of the year — aye, ’twas in December; yet, before Ann. Dom. 45, I repented. A month before we swore we preferred each other to the whole world — perhaps we spoke truth; but, when we came to promise to love each other till death, there I am sure we lied. Well, Fortune owed me a good turn; in 48 she died. Ah, silly Solomon, in 52 I find thee married again! Here, too, is a catalogue of ills — Thomas, born February 12; Jane born Jan. 6; so they go on to the number of five. However, by death I stand credited but by one. Well, Margery, rest her soul! was a queer creature; when she was gone, I felt awkward at first, and being sensible that wishes availed nothing, I often wished for her return. For ten years more I kept my senses and lived single. Oh, blockhead, dolt Solomon! Within this twelvemonth thou art married again — married to a woman thirty years younger than thyself; a fashionable woman. Yet I took her with caution; she had been educated in the country; but now she has more extravagance than the daughter of an earl, more levity than a Countess. What a defect it is in our laws, that a man who has once been branded in the forehead should be hanged for the second offence.
“Enter JARVIS.
“Teaz. Who’s there? Well, Jarvis?
“Jarv. Sir, there are a number of my mistress’s tradesmen without, clamorous for their money.
“Teaz. Are those their bills in your hand?
“Jarv. Something about a twentieth part, Sir.
“Teaz. What! have you expended the hundred pounds I gave you for her use?
“Jarv. Long ago, Sir, as you may judge by some of the items:— ‘Paid the coach-maker for lowering the front seat of the coach.’
“Teaz. What the deuce was the matter with the seat?
“Jarv. Oh Lord, the carriage was too low for her by a foot when she was dressed — so that it must have been so, or have had a tub at top like a hat-case on a travelling trunk. Well, Sir, (reads.) ‘Paid her two footmen half a year’s wages, 50l.’
“Teaz. ‘Sdeath and fury! does she give her footmen a hundred a year?
“Jarv. Yes, Sir, and I think, indeed, she has rather made a good bargain, for they find their own bags and bouquets.
“Teaz. Bags and bouquets for footmen! — halters and bastinadoes! [Footnote: Transferred afterwards to Trip and Sir Oliver.]
“Jarv. ‘Paid for my lady’s own nosegays, 50l.’
“Teaz. Fifty pounds for flowers! enough to turn the Pantheon into a green-house, and give a Fete Champetre at Christmas.
[Footnote: We observe here a change in his plan, with respect both to the titles of Old Teazle and his wife, and the presence of the latter during this scene, which was evidently not at first intended.
From the following skeleton of the scenes of this piece it would appear that (inconsistently, in some degree, with my notion of its being the two act Comedy announced in 1775) he had an idea of extending the plot through five acts.
“Act 1st, Scene 1st, Sir Peter and Steward — 2d, Sir P. and Lady — then
Young Pliable.
“Act 2d, Sir P. and Lady — Young Harrier — Sir P. and Sir Rowland, and Old
Jeremy — Sir R. and Daughter — Y. P. and Y. H.
“Act 3d, Sir R., Sir P. and O. J. — 2d, Y. P. and Company, Y. R. O. R. — 3d, Y. H. and Maria — Y. H., O. R. and Young Harrier, to borrow.
“Act 4th, Y. P. and Maria, to borrow his money; gets away what he had received from his uncle — Y. P. Old Jer. and tradesmen. — P. and Lady T.” &c. &c.]
“Lady Teaz. Lord, Sir Peter, I wonder you should grudge me the most innocent articles in dress — and then for the expense — flowers cannot be cheaper in winter — you should find fault with the climate, and not with me. I am sure I wish with all my heart, that it was Spring all the year round, and that roses grew under one’s feet.
“Sir P. Nay, but, madam, then you would not wear them; but try snowballs and icicles. But tell me, madam, how can you feel any satisfaction in wearing these, when you might reflect that one of the rose-buds would have furnished a poor f
amily with a dinner?
“Lady T. Upon my word, Sir Peter, begging your pardon, that is a very absurd way of arguing. By that rule, why do you indulge in the least superfluity? I dare swear a beggar might dine tolerably on your great-coat, or sup off your laced waistcoat — nay, I dare say, he wouldn’t eat your gold-headed cane in a week. Indeed, if you would reserve nothing but necessaries, you should give the first poor man you meet your wig, and walk the streets in your night-cap, which, you know, becomes you very much.
“Sir P. Well, go on to the articles.
“Jarv. (Reading.) ‘Fruit for my lady’s monkey, 5l. per week.’
“Sir P. Five pounds for a monkey! — why ’tis a dessert for an alderman!
“Lady T. Why, Sir Peter, would you starve the poor animal? I dare swear he lives as reasonably as other monkeys do.
“Sir P. Well, well, go on.
“Jarv. ‘China for ditto’ —
“Sir P. What, does he eat out of china?
“Lady T. Repairing china that he breaks — and I am sure no monkey breaks less.
“Jarv. Paid Mr. Warren for perfumes — milk of roses, 30l.’
“Lady T. Very reasonable.
“Sir P. ‘Sdeath, madam, if you had been born to these expenses I should not have been so much amazed; but I took you, madam, an honest country squire’s daughter —
“Lady T. Oh, filthy; don’t name it. Well, heaven forgive my mother, but I do believe my father must have been a man of quality.
“Sir P. Yes, madam, when first I saw you, you were dressed in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys by your side; your occupations, madam, to superintend the poultry; your accomplishments, a complete knowledge of the family receipt-book — then you sat in a room hung round with fruit in worsted of your own working; your amusements were to play country-dances on an old spinnet to your father while he went asleep after a fox-chase — to read Tillotson’s sermons to your aunt Deborah. These, madam, were your recreations, and these the accomplishments that captivated me. Now, forsooth, you must have two footmen to your chair, and a pair of white dogs in a phaeton; you forget when you used to ride double behind the butler on a docked bay coach- horse…. Now you must have a French hair-dresser; do you think you did not look as well when you had your hair combed smooth over a roller?…. Then you could be content to sit with me, or walk by the side of the — Ha! Ha!
“Lady T. True, I did; and, when you asked me if I could love an old fellow, who would deny me nothing, I simpered and said ‘Till death.’
“Sir P. Why did you say so?
“Lady T. Shall I tell you the truth?
“Sir P. If it is not too great a favor.
“Lady T. Why, then, the truth is, I was heartily tired of all these agreeable recreations you have so well remembered, and having a spirit to spend and enjoy fortune, I was determined to marry the first fool I should meet with…. you made me a wife, for which I am much obliged to you, and if you have a wish to make me more grateful still, make me a widow.” [Footnote: The speeches which I have omitted consist merely of repetitions of the same thoughts, with but very little variation of the language.]
* * * * *
“Sir P. Then, you never had a desire to please me, or add to my happiness?
“Lady T. Sincerely, I never thought about you; did you imagine that age was catching? I think you have been overpaid for all you could bestow on me. Here am I surrounded by half a hundred lovers, not one of whom but would buy a single smile by a thousand such baubles as you grudge me.
“Sir P. Then you wish me dead?
“Lady T. You know I do not, for you have made no settlement on me.
* * * * *
“Sir P. I am but middle-aged.
“Lady T. There’s the misfortune; put yourself on, or back, twenty years, and either way I should like you the better.
* * * * *
Yes, sir, and then your behavior too was different; you would dress, and smile, and bow; fly to fetch me anything I wanted; praise every thing I did or said; fatigue your stiff face with an eternal grin; nay, you even committed poetry, and muffled your harsh tones into a lover’s whisper to sing it yourself, so that even my mother said you were the smartest old bachelor she ever saw — a billet-doux engrossed on buckram!!!!!! [Footnote: These notes of admiration are in the original, and seem meant to express the surprise of the author at the extravagance of his own joke.]
* * * * *
Let girls take my advice and never marry an old bachelor. He must be so either because he could find nothing to love in women, or because women could find nothing to love in him.”
The greater part of this dialogue is evidently experimental, and the play of repartee protracted with no other view, than to take the chance of a trump of wit or humor turning up.
In comparing the two characters in this sketch with what they are at present, it is impossible not to be struck by the signal change that they have undergone. The transformation of Sir Peter into a gentleman has refined, without weakening, the ridicule of his situation; and there is an interest created by the respectability, and amiableness of his sentiments, which, contrary to the effect produced in general by elderly gentlemen so circumstanced, makes us rejoice, at the end, that he has his young wife all to himself. The improvement in the character of Lady Teazle is still more marked and successful. Instead of an ill-bred young shrew, whose readiness to do wrong leaves the mind in but little uncertainty as to her fate, we have a lively and innocent, though imprudent country girl, transplanted into the midst of all that can bewilder and endanger her, but with still enough of the purity of rural life about her heart, to keep the blight of the world from settling upon it permanently.
There is indeed in the original draught a degree of glare and coarseness, which proves the eye of the artist to have been fresh from the study of Wycherly and Vanbrugh; and this want of delicacy is particularly observable in the subsequent scene between Lady Teazle and Surface — the chastening down of which to its present tone is not the least of those triumphs of taste and skill, which every step in the elaboration of this Comedy exhibits.
“Scene [Footnote: The Third of the fourth Act in the present form of the Comedy. This scene underwent many changes afterwards, and was oftener put back into the crucible than any other part of the play] YOUNG PLIANT’S Room.
“Young P. I wonder her ladyship is not here: she promised me to call this morning. I have a hard game to play here, to pursue my designs on Maria. I have brought myself into a scrape with the mother-in-law. However, I think we have taken care to ruin my brother’s character with my uncle, should he come to-morrow. Frank has not an ill quality in his nature; yet, a neglect of forms, and of the opinion of the world, has hurt him in the estimation of all his graver friends. I have profited by his errors, and contrived to gain a character, which now serves me as a mask to lie under.
“Enter LADY TEAZLE.
“Lady T. What, musing, or thinking of me?
“Young P. I was thinking unkindly of you; do you know now that you must repay me for this delay, or I must be coaxed into good humor?
“Lady T. Nay, in faith you should pity me — this old curmudgeon of late is growing so jealous, that I dare scarce go out, till I know he is secure for some time.
“Young P. I am afraid the insinuations we have had spread about Frank have operated too strongly on him — we meant only to direct his suspicions to a wrong object.
“Lady T. Oh, hang him! I have told him plainly that if he continues to be so suspicious, I’ll leave him entirely, and make him allow me a separate maintenance.
“Young P. But, my charmer, if ever that should be the case, you see before you the man who will ever be attached to you. But you must not let matters come to extremities; you can never be revenged so well by leaving him, as by living with him, and let my sincere affection make amends for his brutality.
“Lady T. But how shall I be sure now that you are sincere? I have sometimes suspected that you loved my niece. [F
ootnote: He had not yet decided whether to make Maria the daughter-in-law or niece of Lady Teazle.]
“Young P. Oh, hang her, a puling idiot, without sense or spirit.
“Lady T. But what proofs have I of your love to me, for I have still so much of my country prejudices left, that if I were to do a foolish thing (and I think I can’t promise) it shall be for a man who would risk every thing for me alone. How shall I be sure you love me?
“Young P. I have dreamed of you every night this week past.
“Lady T. That’s a sign you have slept every night for this week past; for my part, I would not give a pin for a lover who could not wake for a month in absence.
“Young P. I have written verses on you out of number.
“Lady T. I never saw any.
“Young P. No — they did not please me, and so I tore them.
“Lady T. Then it seems you wrote them only to divert yourself.
“Young P. Am I doomed for ever to suspense?
“Lady T. I don’t know — if I was convinced —
“Young P. Then let me on my knees —
“Lady T. Nay, nay, I will have no raptures either. This much I can tell you, that if I am to be seduced to do wrong, I am not to be taken by storm, but by deliberate capitulation, and that only where my reason or my heart is convinced.
“Young P. Then, to say it at once — the world gives itself liberties —
“Lady T. Nay, I am sure without cause; for I am as yet unconscious of any ill, though I know not what I may be forced to.
“Young P. The fact is, my dear Lady Teazle, that your extreme innocence is the very cause of your danger; it is the integrity of your heart that makes you run into a thousand imprudences which a full consciousness of error would make you guard against. Now, in that case, you can’t conceive how much more circumspect you would be.
“Lady T. Do you think so?
“Young P. Most certainly. Your character is like a person in a plethora, absolutely dying of too much health.
“Lady T. So then you would have me sin in my own defence, and part with my virtue to preserve my reputation. [Footnote: This sentence seems to have haunted him — I find it written in every direction, and without any material change in its form, over the pages of his different memorandum books.]
Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan Page 110
