One of the most celebrated English comedies of manners, Sheridan’sThe School for Scandal was first produced in 1777 at London’s Drury Lane Theatre. It opened just a year after Sheridan succeeded the famous actor/manager David Garrick as manager and, after Garrick had read the play, he even volunteered to write the prologue—lending his much desired endorsement to the production. The School for Scandal was extremely well received by its audiences as well as by many contemporary critics.
The plot revolves around members of London’s Georgian society who delight in rumor and gossip and the infelicities and flaws of others. Although they draw their victims from their own membership, they let no action go un-noted or uncriticized. But as the plot unfolds events don’t always prove quite so titillating, and not a few find themselves victims of their own love of scandal.
The comedy of manners was a staple of Restoration theatre with William Congreve and Molière being its most famous proponents. After it fell out of favor it was revived in the later part of the 1700s when a new generation of playwrights like William Goldsmith and Richard Sheridan took up writing them again. Praised for its tight writing and razor wit, The School for Scandal skewered high-society with such spirited ridicule and insight that it earned Sheridan the epithet of “the modern Congreve.”
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the room in strong hysterics, and Charles after her, calling out for hartshorn and water; then, madam, they began to fight with swords—
Enter Crabtree.
Crabtree
With pistols, nephew—pistols! I have it from undoubted authority.
Mrs. Candour
Oh, Mr. Crabtree, then it is all true!
Crabtree
Too true, indeed, madam, and Sir Peter is dangerously wounded—
Sir Benjamin
By a thrust in segoon25 quite through his left side—
Crabtree
By a bullet lodged in the thorax.
Mrs. Candour
Mercy on me! Poor Sir Peter!
Crabtree
Yes, madam; though Charles would have avoided the matter, if he could.
Mrs. Candour
I told you who it was; I knew Charles was the person.
Sir Benjamin
My uncle, I see, knows nothing of the matter.
Crabtree
But Sir Peter taxed him with the basest ingratitude—
Sir Benjamin
That I told you, you know—
Crabtree
Do, nephew, let me speak!—and insisted on immediate—
Sir Benjamin
Just as I said—
Crabtree
Odds life, nephew, allow others to know something too! A pair of pistols lay on the bureau (for Mr. Surface, it seems, had come home the night before late from Salthill, where he had been to see the Montem26 with a friend, who has a son at Eton), so, unluckily, the pistols were left charged.
Sir Benjamin
I heard nothing of this.
Crabtree
Sir Peter forced Charles to take one, and they fired, it seems, pretty nearly together. Charles’s shot took effect, as I tell you, and Sir Peter’s missed; but, what is very extraordinary, the ball struck against a little bronze Shakespeare that stood over the fireplace, grazed out of the window at a right angle, and wounded the postman, who was just coming to the door with a double letter from Northamptonshire.27
Sir Benjamin
My uncle’s account is more circumstantial, I confess; but I believe mine is the true one, for all that.
Lady Sneerwell
Aside. I am more interested in this affair than they imagine, and must have better information.
Exit Lady Sneerwell.
Sir Benjamin
Ah! Lady Sneerwell’s alarm is very easily accounted for.
Crabtree
Yes, yes, they certainly do say—but that’s neither here nor there.
Mrs. Candour
But, pray, where is Sir Peter at present?
Crabtree
Oh, they brought him home, and he is now in the house, though the servants are ordered to deny him.
Mrs. Candour
I believe so, and Lady Teazle, I suppose, attending him.
Crabtree
Yes, yes; and I saw one of the faculty enter just before me.
Sir Benjamin
Hey! who comes here?
Crabtree
Oh, this is he: the physician, depend on’t.
Mrs. Candour
Oh, certainly! it must be the physician; and now we shall know.
Enter Sir Oliver Surface.
Crabtree
Well, doctor, what hopes?
Mrs. Candour
Ay, doctor, how’s your patient?
Sir Benjamin
Now, doctor, isn’t it a wound with a small-sword?
Crabtree
A bullet lodged in the thorax, for a hundred!
Sir Oliver
Doctor! a wound with a small-sword! and a bullet in the thorax!—Oons! are you mad, good people?
Sir Benjamin
Perhaps, sir, you are not a doctor?
Sir Oliver
Truly, I am to thank you for my degree, if I am.
Crabtree
Only a friend of Sir Peter’s, then, I presume. But, sir, you must have heard of his accident?
Sir Oliver
Not a word!
Crabtree
Not of his being dangerously wounded?
Sir Oliver
The devil he is!
Sir Benjamin
Run through the body—
Crabtree
Shot in the breast—
Sir Benjamin
By one Mr. Surface—
Crabtree
Ay, the younger.
Sir Oliver
Hey! what the plague! you seem to differ strangely in your accounts: however, you agree that Sir Peter is dangerously wounded.
Sir Benjamin
Oh, yes, we agree in that.
Crabtree
Yes, yes, I believe there can be no doubt of that.
Sir Oliver
Then, upon my word, for a person in that situation, he is the most imprudent man alive; for here he comes, walking as if nothing at all was the matter.
Enter Sir Peter Teazle.
Odds heart, Sir Peter! you are come in good time, I promise you; for we had just given you over!
Sir Benjamin
Aside to Crabtree. Egad, uncle, this is the most sudden recovery!
Sir Oliver
Why, man! what do you out of bed with a small-sword through your body, and a bullet lodged in your thorax?
Sir Peter
A small-sword and a bullet!
Sir Oliver
Ay; these gentlemen would have killed you without law or physic, and wanted to dub me a doctor, to make me an accomplice.
Sir Peter
Why, what is all this?
Sir Benjamin
We rejoice, Sir Peter, that the story of the duel is not true, and are sincerely sorry for your other misfortune.
Sir Peter
So, so; all over the town already! Aside.
Crabtree
Though, Sir Peter, you were certainly vastly to blame to marry at your years.
Sir Peter
Sir, what business is that of yours?
Mrs. Candour
Though, indeed, as Sir Peter made so good a husband, he’s very much to be pitied.
Sir Peter
Plague on your pity, ma’am! I desire none of it.
Sir Benjamin
However, Sir Peter, you must not mind the laughing and jests you will meet with on the occasion.
Sir Peter
Sir, sir! I desire to be master in my own house.
Crabtree
’T is no uncommon case, that’s one comfort.
Sir Peter
I insist on being left to myself: without ceremony—I insist on your leaving my house directly!
Mrs. Candour
Well, well, we are going; and depend on’t, we’ll make the best report of it we can.
Exit.
Sir Peter
Leave my house!
Crabtree
And tell how hardly you’ve been treated.
Exit.
Sir Peter
Leave my house!
Sir Benjamin
And how patiently you bear it.
Exit.
Sir Peter
Fiends! vipers! furies! Oh! that their own venom would choke them!
Sir Oliver
They are very provoking, indeed, Sir Peter.
Enter Rowley.
Rowley
I heard high words: what has ruffled you, sir?
Sir Peter
Pshaw! what signifies asking? Do I ever pass a day without my vexations?
Rowley
Well, I’m not inquisitive.
Sir Oliver
Well, Sir Peter, I have seen both my nephews in the manner we proposed.
Sir Peter
A precious couple they are!
Rowley
Yes, and Sir Oliver is convinced that your judgment was right, Sir Peter.
Sir Oliver
Yes, I find Joseph is indeed the man, after all.
Rowley
Ay, as Sir Peter says, he is a man of sentiment.
Sir Oliver
And acts up to the sentiments he professes.
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