SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. REMARKS,-GENERAL, CRITICAL, AND BIOGRAPHICAL. THIS admirable comedy, written by Oliver Goldsmith, was first acted at Covent Garden Theatre, in 1773. It is related of Goldsmith, that during its first performance he walked all the time in St. James's Fark, in great uneasiness; and when he thought it must be over, he hatened to the Theatre. His ears were assailed with hisses as he entere the greenroom, when he eagerly inquired of Mr. Colman the caust "Psha! Psha!" said Colman, "don't be afraid of squibs, when we have been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder these two hours." The fact was that the comedy had been completely successful, and that it was the farce which had excited those sounds so terrific to Goldsmith. When it was to be brought out on the stage he was at a great loss what name tu give it, till the very last moment, when he hastily called it, "She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night." Sir Joshua Reynolds, who disliked this name for a play, offered a much better one to him, saying, “You ought to call it the Belles' Stratagem;" but, however, Goldsmith preferred naming it as above, and Mrs. Cowley has since given that name to one of her comedies. Goldsmith was in great anxiety about its success; he was much distressed in his finances about this time, and all his hopes hung on the event. At the dinner preceding its representation, his mouth became so parched from the agitation of his mind, that he was unable to swallow a single mouthful. The actors themselves had great doubts of its success; but contrary to their expectations it was received with great applause, and has ever since maintained a prominent position among our stock comedies. Dr. Johnson, who had taken a conspicuous part in promoting the interests of poor "Goldy," was triumphant at the success of the piece. "I know of no comedy for many years," said he, "that has so much exhilarated an audience—that has answered so much the great end of comedy-making an audience merry;" and the judgment of the great lexicographer has been ratified ever since, by laughing audiences, whenever the piece has been represented. When the comedy was published, it was dedicated to Johnson, in the following graceful and affectionate terms:- -"In inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honour to inform the public that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety." was It was through Johnson's negotiation with the manager of Covent Garden that it came indeed to be produced. "Colman," he says, prevailed on at last, by much. solicitation-nay, a kind of force-to bring forward the comedy." Still the manager was ungenerous, or at. least indiscreet enough, to express his opinion that it would never reach a second representation. The plot, he said, was bad, and the interest not sustained; "it dwindled and dwindled, and at last went out like the snuff of a candle." The effect of his croaking was soon apparent withir the walls of the Theatre. Two of the most popular actors of the day, Woodward and Gentleman Smith, to whom the parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow were assigned, refused to act them; one of them alleging in excuse the evil predictions of the manager. Goldsmith was advised to postpone the performance of the play until he could get these important parts well supplied.. "No," said he, "I would sooner that my play were damned by bad players than merely saved by good acting," Quick was substituted for Woodward in Tony Lumpkin, and Lee Lewis, the harlequin of the Theatre, for Gentleman Smith in Young Marlow, and both did justice to their parts. Since then the former has been one of the characters most eagerly aspired to by the stage humourist. SCENE I.-A Chamber in an old-fashioned ners, old books, old wine and I believe, House. Enter HARDCASTLE and MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. H. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole country, but ourselves, that does not take a trip to Town now and then, to rub off the rust a little? There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour, Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polish every winter. Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own folks at home. In my time, the follies of the Town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as outside passengers, but in the very basket. Mrs. H. Ay, your times were fine times indeed; you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs. Odfish, the curate's wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our entertainment, your old stories of Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trum Dorothy, (taking her hand) you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife. Mrs. H. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothy's, and your old wives! You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you would make me by one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that. Hard. Let me see; twenty added to twenty makes just fifty and seven. Mrs. H. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but twenty when I was brought tobed of Tony, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; and he's not come to years of discretion yet. Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely. Mrs. H. No matter: Tony Lumpkin. has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a-year. Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere com position of tricks and mischief. Mrs. H. Humour, my dear; nothing but humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour. Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horse pond. If burning the footman's shoes, frighting the maids, worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It was but yesterday, he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popped my bald head into Mrs. Frizzle's face. Mrs. H. And am I to blame? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's latin may do for him. Hard. Latin for him!-a cat and fiddle! No, no; the alehouse and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to. Mrs. H. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Anybody that looks in his face may see he's consumptive. Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms. Mrs. H. He coughs sometimes. Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way. Mrs. H. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. Hard. And truly so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking-trumpet,(TONY hallooing behind the scenes)-Oh there he goes-A very consumptive figure truly. Enter TONY. Mrs. H. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee? Tony. I'm in haste, mother, I can't stay. Mrs. H. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear; you look most shockingly. The Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. Three Pigeons expect me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. Hard. Ay, the alehouse, the old place; I thought so. Mrs. H. A low paltry set of fellows. Tony. Not so low, neither. There's Dick Muggins the exciseman, Jack Slang the horse-doctor, little Aminadab that grinds the music box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter. Mrs. H. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night at least. Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind: but I can't abide to disappoint myself Mrs. H. (detaining him) You shan't go. Tony. I will, I tell you. Mrs. H. I say you shan't. Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. [Exit, hauling her out. Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and discretion out of doors? There's my pretty darling, Kate; the fashions of the times have almost infected her too. By living year or two in Town, she is as fond of gauze and French frippery, as the best of them. Enter MISS HARDCASTLE. Hard. Blessings on my pretty inno cence! Dress'd out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! what a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain. Mrs. H. You know our agreement, sir. You allow me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner; and in the evening I put on my housewife's dress to please you. Hard. Well, remember I insist on the terms of our agreement; and by-the-bye, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening. Mrs. H. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your meaning. Hard. Then to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband, from Town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow him shortly after. Mrs. H. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before. Bless me, how shall I behave? It's a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem. Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never control your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understanding. Miss H. Is he? Hard. Very generous. Miss H. I believe I shall like him. Hard. Young and brave. Miss H. I'm sure I shall like him. Hard. And very handsome. Miss H. My dear papa, say no more; (kisses his hand) he's mine-I'll have him. Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in the world. Mrs. H. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband. Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the very feature in his character that first struck me. Miss H. He must have more striking features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so everything, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him. Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you. Miss H. The son of Sir Charles Marlow. Miss N. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hastings, my admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you must have seen him when we lived in Town. Miss H. Never. Miss N. He's a very singular character, I assure you. Among women of reputation and virtue, he is the modestest man alive; but his acquaintance give him a very different character among women of another stamp:-you understand me. Miss N. I have just come from one of our agreeable tete-a-tetes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection. Miss H. An odd character, indeed; I shall never be able to manage him. What shall I do? Pshaw! think no more of him, but trust to occurrences for success. Miss H. My dear papa, why will you But how goes on your own affair, my dear? mortify one so? Well, if he refuses, in--has my mother been courting you for my stead of breaking my heart at his indif- brother Tony, as usual! ference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery, set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time I'll go prepare the servants for his reception; -as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's muster. [Exit. Miss H. Lud, this news of papa's puts me all in a flutter! Young, handsome these he put last, but I put them foremost. Sensible, good-natured-I like all that. But then reserved and sheepish; that's much against him. Yet can't he be eured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I but I vow I'm disposing of the husband, before I have secured the lover. Enter MISS NEVILLE. Miss H. I'm glad you're come, Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look this evening? — is there anything whimsical about me? is it one of my well-looking days, child?-am I in face to-day? Miss N. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again-bless me! sure no accident has happened among the canary birds or the gold fishes. Has your brother or the Miss H. And her partiality is such, that she actually thinks him so. A fortune like yours is no small temptation; besides, as she has the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family. Miss N. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation. But at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another. Miss H. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so. Miss N. It is a good-natured creature at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me married to anybody but himself. But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round the improvements. Allons! courage is necessary, as our affairs are critical. Miss H. Would it were bed-time, and all were well. [Exeunt. |
