Source
of book: I own this.
It
is hard to believe it has been eight years since I read The School for Scandal, in connection with
the Bakersfield Symphony’s performance of Barber’s delightful overture. That
play, with its wicked (and not always very nice) wit is considered Sheridan’s
best work. The Rivals came first, and is less of a social satire and
more of a straight up farce. Today, it is best known for the term “malapropism,”
from the character Mrs. Malaprop, who is constantly using words which sound
like the word she intends, but means something quite different.
Let’s
see if I can summarize the plot a bit:
Young
heiress Lydia Languish has read a few too many romance novels (of the 1700s),
and longs for a scandalous elopement with “ensign Beverly,” who is really
Captain Jack Absolute, the son of a wealthy aristocrat. Lydia’s guardian, Mrs.
Malaprop, and Jack’s father, Sir Anthony, want them to marry, but Lydia
refuses, citing her love for “Beverly.” When Lydia eventually discovers
“Beverly” is really Jack, she scorns him.
Meanwhile,
Lydia is pursued by two other suitors: the ridiculous country gentleman Bob
Acres (a friend of Captain Jack), and even more ludicrous Irish soldier, Lucius
O’Trigger. Lucius has been writing letters to “Delia,” who he thinks is Lydia,
but Lydia’s maid Lucy has been giving them to Mrs. Malaprop instead, who thinks
her mystery lover is madly in love with her.
In
addition to this mess, Jack’s friend Faulkland is courting Julia, but is
irrationally jealous and suspicious of her fidelity. They quarrel continually
about this throughout the play.
Acres
finds out that he has a rival, “Beverly,” to his affections for Lydia. Lucius
talks him into challenging “Beverly” to a duel - although neither of them
realizes “Beverly” is really Jack. The duel goes south really fast once
everyone realizes who everyone else is, and Sir Anthony arrives with the women
to break it up and set everyone right. Well, except for Lucius, who is
horrified at being punked.
From my Heritage Press hardback: illustration by Rene Ben Sussan
The
fun of the play isn’t the plot, though. It is the sparkling and witty dialogue.
I was tempted to write down so many more quotes than these, but I restrained
myself.
Lydia
inquires of her maid, Lucy, what books she has brought back.
LYDIA: Heigh-ho! Did
you inquire for The Delicate Distress?
LUCY: Or, The
Memoirs of Lady Woodford? Yes, indeed, ma’am. I asked everywhere for it;
and I might have brought it from Mr. Frederick’s, but Lady Slattern Lounger, who
had just sent it home, had so soiled and dog’s-eared it, it wa’n’t fit for a
Christian to read.
LYDIA: Heigh-ho! Yes,
I always know when Lady Slattern has been before me. She has a most observing
thumb; and, I believe, cherishes her nails for the convenience of making
marginal notes.
Not
only is this deliciously naughty innuendo, it is proof that those evil
reprobates who dog-ear books have been a problem for at least the last 250
years.
Mrs.
Malaprop, furious that Lydia has refused to marry Jack (not realizing he is
“Beverly”), complains to his father.
MRS. MALAPROP: There,
Sir Anthony, sits the deliberate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family,
and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling.
LYDIA: Madam, I
thought you once--
MRS. MALAPROP: You
thought, miss! I don’t know any business you have to think at all--thought does
not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you
will promise to forget this fellow--to illiterate him, I say, quite from your
memory.
And
later:
MRS. MALAPROP: What business
have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don’t become a young woman;
and you ought to know, that as both always wear off, ‘tis safest in matrimony
to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before
marriage as if he’d been a blackamoor--and yet, miss, you are sensible what a
wife I made!--and when it pleased Heaven to release me from him, ‘tis unknown
what tears I shed!
Sir
Anthony chimes in:
SIR ANTHONY: It is not
to be wondered at, ma’am,--all this is the natural consequence of teaching
girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by Heaven! I’d as soon have them
taught the black art as their alphabet!
This
play was written during the early days of first wave feminism - and it is true
that when women were able to gain an education, they did seem to develop ideas
of self-determination. Weird how that happens. The pinnacle of the scene is
Mrs. Malaprop’s monologue, complete with butchery of the language.
MRS. MALAPROP: Observe
me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of my to be a progeny of
learning; I don’t think so much learning becomes a young woman; for instance, I
would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or
fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning--neither
would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical,
diabolica instruments.--But, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old,
to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then,
sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts;--and as she grew up,
I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the
contagious countries;--but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be the mistress
of orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, and mis-pronounce words, so
shamefully as girls usually do; and likewise that she might reprehend the true
meaning of what she is saying. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman
know--and I don’t think there is a superstitious article in it.
Later
in the play, Fag, Jack’s amusing and morally suspect servant, mentions that he
has lied to cover for Jack. And has invented a whole story with
characters.
FAG: And, in
tenderness to my character, if your honour could bring in the chairmen and
waiters, I should esteem it as an obligation; for though I never scruple a lie
to serve my master, yet it hurts one’s conscience to be found out.
In
a later scene, Jack and Acres are teasing Faulkland about Julia, and how she
failed to act miserable while he was gone. Rather, she continued to attend
dances and the like and enjoy herself.
FAULKLAND: Well, well,
I’ll contain myself--perhaps as you say--for form sake.--What, Mr. Acres, you
were praising Miss Melville’s manner of dancing a minuet--hey?
ACRES: Oh, I dare
insure her for that--but what I was going to speak of was her country dancing.
Odds swimmings! She has such an air with her.
Faulkland
is horrified. But when he talks of jigs and reels, the audience knows this
isn’t about literal dancing. This is a dirty pun which is, sadly, neglected
these days. You can find it (among other places) in Hamlet, where Hamlet
talks about “lying between maid’s legs.” Acres is clearly feeding Faukland’s
paranoia with jokes about Julia sleeping around. I won’t quote all of it, but
the following dialogue is just rife with naughty puns. “The action of their
pulse beats to the lascivious movement of the jig--their quivering,
warm-breathed sighs impregnate the very air--the atmosphere becomes electrical
to love, and each amorous spark darts through every link of the chain!”
Another
brilliant bit of dialogue is between Jack and his father, when Sir Anthony is
pressuring Jack to agree to marry the woman Sir Anthony desires - sight
unseen.
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: If
my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave to decline the
purchase.--Pray, sir, who is the lady?
SIR ANTHONY: What’s
that to you, sir?--Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her
directly.
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE:
Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I
know nothing of!
SIR ANTHONY: I am
sure, sir, ‘tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing
of.
Although
I could quote from every single line by Mrs. Malaprop, perhaps the one with the
most malapropisms per inch is this one:
MRS. MALAPROP:
You are very good and considerate, captain. I am sure I have done everything in
my power since I exploded the affair; long ago I laid my positive conjunctions
on her, never to think on the fellow again;--I have since laid Sir Anthony’s
preposition before her; but, I am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline
every particle that I enjoin her.
CAPTAIN
ABSOLUTE: It must be very distressing, indeed, ma’am.
MRS. MALAPROP:
Oh! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree.--I thought she had persisted
from corresponding with him; but, behold, this very day, I have interceded
another letter from the fellow; I believe I have it in my pocket.
Also
fun is the sequence of scenes with Bob Acres, after Lucius has convinced him he
needs to duel with “Beverly.” Acres’ servant, David, tries to talk him out of
it.
ACRES: But my honour,
David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour.
DAVID: Ay, by the
mass! and I would be very careful of it; and I think in return my honour
couldn’t do less than to be very careful of me.
ACRES: Odds blades!
David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honour!
DAVID: I say then, it
would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman.--Look’ee,
master, this honour seems to me to be a marvellous false friend: ay, truly, a
very courtier-like-servant.--Put the case, I was a gentleman (which, thank God,
no one can say of me); well--my honour makes me quarrel with another gentleman
of my acquaintance.--So--we fight. (Pleasant enough that!) Boh;--I kill
him--(the more’s my luck!) now, pray who gets the profit of it?--Why, my honour.
But put the case that he kills me!--by the mass! I go to the worms, and my
honour whips over to my enemy.
At
the time this was written, dueling was still a common practice, but it was losing favor. Sheridan was one of
those who turned it from a form of gentlemanly distinction to a mockable
affectation. As Oscar Wilde would later say, violence has its fascination when
wicked, but not when it is ridiculous. This is obvious in the dueling scene,
where Lucius keeps trying to whip up Acres and Jack into fighting, when it is
clear that Acres is too scared, and Jack has no intention of quarreling.
SIR LUCIUS: [Goes up
to Captain Absolute.] With regard to that matter, captain, I must beg leave to
differ in opinion with you.
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: Upon
my word, then, you must be a very subtle disputant:--because, sir, I happened
just then to be giving no opinion at all.
SIR LUCIUS: That’s no
reason. For give me leave to tell you, a man may think an untruth as well as
speak one.
CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: Very
true, sir; but if a man never utters his thoughts, I should think they might
stand a chance of escaping controversy.
SIR LUCIUS: Then, sir,
you differ in opinion with me, which amounts to the same thing.
Near
the end, as everything gets sorted out, Lydia pouts and says she refuses to
marry Jack.
LYDIA: Why, is it not
provoking? when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable,
to find myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at last! There, had I
projected one of the most sentimental elopements!--so becoming a disguise!--so
amiable a ladder of ropes!--Conscious moon--four horses--Scotch parson--with
such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop--and such paragraphs in the newspapers!--Oh, I
shall die with disappointment!
Of
course, everything works out in the end, even if we are denied the fun of
imagining Lucius O’Trigger hitched to Mrs. Malaprop.
By
the way, a “Smithfield Bargain” is “a marriage of convenience in which the size
of the marriage settlement is the determining factor.” Poor Lydia finds
herself, despite her best efforts, marrying for money as well as love. Poor
baby.
The
play is intentionally silly - it’s more of a straight-up comedy than a real
satire - although the pokes at the misogynist old folks remain funny. The
School for Scandal is a better satire, but it is more mean-spirited than The
Rivals, which more gently pokes fun at its characters. And, of course, Mrs.
Malaprop never gets old.
