A Scotſman's Remarks, &c.
[]WITHOUT any oſtentatious diſplay of the origin of Comedy or Farce, as is but too uſual among proſeſſed pamphleteers, I ſhall confine this criticiſm ſolely to the piece in queſtion, Love à la Mode.
The buſineſs of it, in the ſenſe of Ho⯑race, is a ſubject publici juris, a common and obvious one to all writers, and will remain ſo to the end of time; to wit, a young lady's being courted by a number of contraſted lovers, whoſe characters, from their diſcordance with each other, are to furniſh out the comic enter⯑tainment.
Of this kind we have ſeveral on the Engliſh, beſides thoſe on other theatres [2] of Europe; viz. MISS LUCY IN TOWN, MISS IN HER TEENS, &C.
And yet an author may derive merit from this ſubject of common right, as we may call it, in proportion as he ſhall in⯑troduce perſonages of an higher rank of life, more elegant colouring, and a quite novel complexion.
Whenever this ſhall be executed, it is to be looked upon as the work of true ge⯑nius; but when fallen ſhort of, as often happens, it is to be deemed the impotent effort of the hard-bound brains of low pla⯑giaries, whoſe memory is filled with the ſhreds and ill-choſen ſcraps of other mens wit.
In which of theſe two claſſes the author of Love à la Mode is to be ranked, will appear from the ſubſequent remarks; whom, however, the moſt inveterate ene⯑mies he has, cannot refuſe being guilty of modeſty and gratitude on this occaſion—Of modeſty in not publiſhing; and of gratitude in not giving his generous benefactors oc⯑caſion of repenting their having patronized ſuch coarſe, inaccurate ſcenes, and ſo af⯑frontful to themſelves.
[3] To proceed methodically, let us firſt examine into the propriety of the cha⯑racters of his drama; and, ſecondly, how he has conducted the whole, and how brought on and carried off his people.
The DRAMATIS PERSONAE are,
- Sir THEODORE GOODCHILD, a wealthy merchant of London.
- MORDECAI, a wealthy Jew fop.
- Sir ARCHIBALD M'SARCASM, a Scotch knight.
- Sir CALLAGHAN O BRALLAGHAN, an Iriſh officer in the Pruſſian ſervice.
- GROOME, an Engliſh eſquire, fond of race-horſes, &c.
- CHARLOTTE, a young lady of a con⯑ſiderable fortune, and the ward of Sir Theodore.
Propriety of characters, for the preſent purpoſe, may be divided into two ſorts— The one to make them act and ſpeak in every thing ſuitably to their intended pur⯑poſe, untainted by any peculiarly vicious manner of country or education.—The other is, when the character is made to [4] reſult intirely from a provincial dialect, and local manners.
The chief mongrel characters of this farce are a monſtrous compound of both. There is nothing merely national in either the Scotch or Iriſh man, but an apeing of the vulgar accent of both-nations, with a few ſtrained (not natural) blunders in the Hibernian hero's mouth, ſince ſuch the author has been pleaſed to conſtitute him.
The character of M' Sarcaſm is ſome⯑what of Rancune's caſt in the comic ro⯑mance written by the facetious Scarron.— He is a raſcal in every ſenſe, who delights in flattering all preſent, man or woman, to his or her face, ſhrugging contempt at them at the ſame time, when they turn their backs, and tearing them to pieces when abſent.
This character is the produce of every climate; and the Iriſh in general, if we take their own words for it (I mean no national reflection, for that I ſcorn) implead them⯑ſelves for a too general tendency to de⯑traction, and to the firſt comer; whereas the Scots, are very cautious to whom they) [5] diſcloſe their diſadvantageous opinions of any perſon.
Sir Callaghan O Brallaghan is made a Pruſſian officer, to introduce him under that paſſport more favourably to the crowd, If the author had choſen it, he might with [...] much juſtice, and perhaps more, have in⯑troduced a Scotſman in that ſervice, there being no corps of either nation in it, as in France; and that moreover there was in favour of the North Briton, his brave countryman general Keith, who had long ſhared the favour, aſſiſted in the councils, and ultimately fallen in the ſervice of Pruſſia's ever-glorious monarch.
It ſure then ill becomes any aſſumed character of officerſhip in that heroic ſer⯑vice, to ſquint the leaſt, however indi⯑rectly, againſt Scotch valour, which is im⯑pudently done more than once in this farce.
An Iriſh officer in the French, Spaniſh or Auſtrian ſervice, would have been more agreeable to the general received notions of mankind. But ſuch an incoherent med⯑ley of heroiſm and ſtupidity as O Brallag⯑han is diſhed out here by his countryman, [...]ver has been exhibited before, nor ought [6] to be borne by any audience that would lay a claim to rationality.
Mordecai the beau Jew is no-body, a mere expletive foot-ball perſona, to be made a cat's paw of, to be abuſed, in⯑ſulted, and have jokes cracked upon him.
Squire Groome is no national characte⯑riſtic of England, but a general repreſen⯑tative of any perſon of the three king⯑doms, who likes horſe-racing, drinking, &c. preferably to any other happineſs; but why he ſhould be the type of the Engliſh nation, I cannot ſee, and therefore leave it to the very jumbling author to explain in the beſt manner he can; for objects receive ſtrange aſpects, as they paſs through the camera obſcura of his in⯑tellect.
Sir Theodore Goodchild, as well as his ward Charlotte, are two very ſilly ſchemers, conſidering how the world is at preſent ſituated, and that all marriages are rather the objects of prudence than paſſion. We are not Arcadian ſhepherds either in this or the next iſland.
As I am but lately come from Scotland, the firſt view I had of Love à la Mode was [7] on Saturday ſe'nnight, when a young gen⯑tleman who ſat near me in the pit, was pleaſed to inform me that it had been much ſhortened, and altered for the better ſince the firſt performance of it. That, moreover, it uſed at firſt to be preceded by a plaintive prologue, ſpoken, as was ſup⯑poſed, by a water-nymph, or one like Niobé, all tears, to deprecate the public's reſentment from the vile ſtuff that was to, be preſented; nay, he added, it was not unlike a child's endeavouring with ſobs and tears to conciliate the favour of an incenſed public in the behalf of a sinful but repent⯑ing parent.
The piece opens by Sir Theodore and Charlotte's having agreed to lay a ſcheme to try which of her lovers was the moſt ſincere, by their declaring after dinner that he was a bankrupt, &c. and ſhe ruined of conſequence.—A pretty amuſement for a wealthy merchant, and an experiment that few young ladies of fortune ought to try now-a-days, however great their me⯑rit; nay, even granting that of their ſuitor and his having ſtrong affections for them.
[8] There are family reaſons, ſuch as the providing for the younger children, &c. which would prove often inſurmountable obſtacles, where poverty ſhould really be preſented in the place of an expected large fortune.
She gives to her guardian, as if he had neither known nor ſeen them before, a reſpective deſcription of her woers.—If it was meant to inform the audience, it is ſtupid enough; that is like prefixing an explanatory argument to a play: their ap⯑pearance and buſineſs is to let the audi⯑ence into the ſecret of what they are; which accounts ſhould ever be ſhortly done, and to thoſe ſuppoſed not to have had any prior knowledge.
That given of the Jew beau Mordecai, as well as the treatment of him through-out, is idly and groſly inſulting a body of people, ſince the Jew-act has not taken place, and who ought to meet with better treatment from a man who owed his get⯑ing any footing on the ſtage to the ſup⯑poſition of his having well repreſented one of their community.
[9] That given of M'Sarcaſm is partly al⯑ready hinted at, with his being vain-glo⯑rious of the antiquity of his family.
That of 'Squire Groome gives but a very faint idea of what the actor's excellence diſplays.
The picture drawn of the Iriſh hero is rather that of a bully than a brave officer; nor is either wrote up, nor conſequently acted up to. He is deſcribed with a high-cocked hat, long ſword, ſhort-ſkirted coat, and affecting a tremendous ſtride; to which the lady adds, ‘You would think that Mars had been his foſter-father, and Bellona his nurſe, &c.’ there needed only to have been added, that every morn⯑ing he drank gunpowder tea for his break-faſt, and that he ſwallowed piſtol balls, like ſugar-plumbs, by way of helping di⯑geſtion.
Yet when Sir Callaghan comes into ac⯑tion, both his language and demeanor are of the gentleſt caſt.
Sir Theodore pretends buſineſs out, in order to give room for Charlotte's receiv⯑ing all her lovers before dinner, to which [10] they had been invited; and are expected, except 'Squire Groome, who was, it ſeems, engaged in a great horſe-match at New-market.
Sir Theodore, on his going out, is met by the firſt arrived viſitor Mordecai, who enters rather like a maſquerade buffoon than any thing elſe, and diſgracing Italian airs like a lunatic caſtrato.
After a few common-place compli⯑ments, he upon her beauty, ſhe upon his taſte, elegance, &c. ſhe accuſes him with addreſſing a certain lady, &c. he expreſſes great uneaſineſs to know from whom ſhe had learned it; ſhe tells him from M'Sar⯑caſm.
Here Mordecai adds to the already diſ⯑advantageous character given of the North Briton's, poiſonous tongue, by calling him the ſcandal ſpreader and Paſquin of the town, and ſays he is ſo great a ſcoundrel no gentleman of his country will keep him company.
This is but a poor ſalvo—Why then impoſe all the ſcoundreliſm of the piece upon Scots ſhoulders? It certainly was by [11] no means intended as a compliment, but rather as a groſs affront to North Britain, as well as the weak deſigner could exe⯑cute it.
M'Sarcaſm comes into Miſs Charlotte's apartment, and though on an intended viſit to her, ſees Mordecai before the lady (though why we are not told) in order it ſeems to have a little fun with him—There is great art here!
He then turns to the lady, aſks her pardon for not having ſeen her before (though ſhe was as obvious an object as then) in a very tireſome, drawling, heſi⯑tating, repeating, and, on the whole, ex⯑ecrable imitation of the Scots accent, through which breaks out ever and anon the Iriſh brogue.
Among other things in his very un⯑couth addreſs, he declares her to be "an epitome of all mentel and bo-de-ly per⯑fections, and that ſhe is a de-ve-ne-ty." Sir Callaghan O Brallaghan's name being brought on the carpet, M'Sarcaſm bids them not to be uneaſy about him, that he has brought him along with him; for C 2 [12] that, like the kings of old, he never tra⯑vels without his f-u-l; and that he has left him writing a love epiſtle below ſtairs, which he is ſure has not been equalled ſince the days of Don Q-u-e-x-o-t-e— E—h!
He does not tell us in what apartment below ſtairs he had left him. This gives a very contemptible idea of the author's hero, that by M'Sarcaſm, a known rival's advice, he ſhould miſemploy ſo much time below ſtairs in penning either a ſo-net or an ep-i-ſtle; while the other, during that interval, was making the moſt of his ſuit.
Mordecai, deſirous to have a ſlice, as they call it, of the Iriſhman, by way of a whet before dinner, goes off, and commodiouſly, to give M'Sarcaſm an opportunity of abu⯑ſing all his rivals, which he does e-la-bo-rate-ly.
Squire Groome he repreſents to her as a man of ruined fortune, a Newmarket ſharper, a contemptible jo-key; who would always prefer his horſes, &c. to her.
[13] Mordecai, his favourite butt for abuſe, he viliſies, among other things, for his complexion, &c.
The Iriſhman he bids her beware of on account of his being her guardian's ne⯑phew; whom he inſinuates to her he has certain information of having a deſign upon her fortune.
He laſtly comes to himſelf, and then blazons forth to her the advantages that ſhe will have, though ſprung from ſugar⯑hogſheads, rum-puncheons, a compting-houſe, &c. to be married into an a-nci-ent fe-mi-ly, of which there are four vi-counts, ſix earls, three marqueſſes, and twa duks, beſides lairds and baronets out of aw re-ch-oning beyond number.—What humming and hawing in this dull, prolix declaration!
Where is the propriety of Charlotte's guardian being uncle to Sir Callaghan? It gives room to ſuſpect; a colluſion.
Beau Mordecai, the little Girgeſhite, re⯑turns brimful of joy to tell them the Iriſh⯑man is coming. Sir Callaghan whom, from the deſcription given of his perſon and carriage, one was to expect to ſee enter the room in a moſt formidable, ſwagger⯑ing [14] manner, and dealing terror around, on the contrary comes on with all the mild vacancy of looks that denote a good-na⯑tured, untravelled young man.
He addreſſes the lady rather with re⯑ſpectful baſhfulneſs and timidity than con⯑formable to the boiſterous picture Char⯑lotte had drawn of him, and up to which his dialogue is not written; ſo the actor is not at all in fault, but the author is for his inconſiſtences.
He is aſked to indulge the lady with the deſcription of a battle, which he de⯑clines at firſt for the reaſon that he thinks it unbecoming to make mention of ſuch matters before a lady, and that it favours too much of the Fan-ſa-ron.
But urged farther he declares to her, "that there is ſo much doing every where, there is no knowing what is done any where—that every man has ſo much, buſi⯑neſs of his own, he has no time to mind that of his neighbours—that there is ſuch drumming, and ſhouting, and ſmoke, and fighting, and the delicious noiſe of arms, that it is no more poſſible to give an ac⯑count [15] of a battle than of the ſtars in the firmament."
M'Sarcaſm, like another Iago, in order to bring Mordecai into a ſcrape, eggs him on to put to Sir Callaghan ſuch queſtions as might the readier provoke his anger.
Mordecai aſks in a pert manner, "Pray, Sir Callaghan, how many men may you have killed in your time?"—To which Sir Cal⯑laghan replies, "More than a coward would chooſe to eat, or an impertinent fellow would dare to look on—So, are you anſwered, Mr. Beau Mordecai?"
M'Sarcaſm hugs himſelf with joy at the agreeable notion of Mordecai's running himſelf into a ſcrape, which might pro⯑bably rid him of both rivals—He encou⯑rages him to go on.
To Mordecai's ridiculous taunting and ſaying, If he were a general, Sir Callaghan rejoins, turning to the lady, "Look at the general, Madam—it is a trade not ſo eaſy to be learned; it requires great ge⯑nius, as well as being up late and early, enduring the ſummer's ſcorching heat and winter's freezing cold; dangers ſhould be [16] his chief delight, glory ever in view, death his greateſt reward, by which he will live for ever."
During this ſpeech the Scot and the Jew are chuckling to each other, the lat⯑ter burſting into a ſit of laughter, cries, "O the bull, a man live by death!"
Sir Callagh. "Yes, Mr. Mordecai, a man live by his death. Is not Julius Caeſar, Alexander, and all the other heroes, tho' dead two thouſand years ago, alive in hiſ⯑tory, and will be ſo to the end of time?— And is not your brave young General, who died for his country's glory before QUE⯑BEC, as much alive as any of them, and will be ſo to the end of time?"
This is a mob-timed, nay begging clap⯑trap, and therefore the lady with a ſwell⯑ing breaſt figures in to this purpoſe; "All the brave men who periſhed on that oc⯑caſion muſt be thought on with applauſe, while Britiſh annals or Britiſh gratitude remains."
The Durſeys, the Lockmans, the Mac⯑leanes, and all of that ſpecies, are ſure of claps by ſuch ſpringes to catch wood⯑cocks; [17] but true genius diſdains, becauſe the claims it has on ſame derive from more noble motives.
Opportunely a meſſage comes about dinner, which draws away the Lady and the Jew—M'Sarcaſm having repreſented the latter as a moſt contemptible being, a raſcal, &c. to the Iriſhman, aſks him if he has written the letter, according as he had adviſed; to the young lady?
Sir Callaghan replies in the negative; but ſays he has written a letter to the uncle, which, in his ſenſe, will do as well. At this anſwer M'Sarcaſm ſniggers to himſelf, and prays to hear the contents as matter of entertaining curioſity.
Among other articles, O Brallaghan reads in the letter, "nothing is ſo un⯑becoming a man of honour as to be⯑have like a ſcoundrel;" upon the novelty of which ſentiment M'Sarcaſm ſneeringly compliments him, which the dubbed hero receives kindly.
In the ſubſequent part of his letter is this paragraph, "bidding him to conſi⯑der the antiquity of the O Brallaghans fa⯑mily, [18] as old, nay older than any family in the three kingdoms, or even in Europe, it being related to all the O Sullivans, O Shag⯑heſeſnys, O Flahertys, M'Dermots, M'Clogh⯑lans, &c."—a thorough Mileſian liſt.
M'Sarcaſm objects to the aſſertion of his family being ſo ancient, and that when he ſaid ſo, he muſt have loſt fight of the North Britons, who are the only pure nobility in Great Britain.
O Brallaghan anſwers, "he knew very well what he had ſaid;" upon which M'Sarcaſm inſinuates in an angry manner, "that his having ſaid ſo muſt be attri⯑buted to his ignorance and vanity."
O Brallaghan kindles, and ſays, he does not underſtand what M' Sarcaſm would be at; who ſays, that O Brallaghan's aſſer⯑tion muſt be aſcribed "to his being igno⯑rant and vain." O Brallaghan in a mild manner declares that M' Sarcaſm muſt eat his words, or give him (0 Brallaghan) ſatisfaction.
M'Sarcaſm, with a violent affectation of iraſcibility, draws for immediate ac⯑tion; againſt which, on account of the [19] impropriety of the place, O Brallaghan expoſtulates—But upon M' Sarcaſm's in⯑ſiſting (from a ſuppoſed ſurmiſe of his an⯑tagoniſt's being ſhy) O Brallaghan draws, and tells him, that ſince determined he is as welcome as the flowers in June.
The covert ſneer againſt the brave High⯑landers before Quebec, is too flagrant.— The whole, of the Iriſh being called out⯑caſts of the Scots, and the Scots being re⯑torted as Iriſhmens baſtards, &c. is too vile for criticiſm.
Upon this ſcuſſle, with the uſual deco⯑rum of the reſt of the characters enter⯑ing, comes on alone, unattended by ſer⯑vants, &c. the lady, and aſking what's the cauſe of quarrel, Sir Callaghan anſwers, It was about M'Sarcaſm's grandmother, &c.
The lady having made peace; on which occaſion the Scotchman is made the readier to ſtrike: and after bids the Iriſhman, aſide, not to expoſe himſelf in ſpeaking about the Belles Lettres, Claſſics, &c. (of which teague had not mentioned the leaſt word) upon account of the damnable twiſt upon his tongue.
[20] Sir Callaghan replies (this is one of the ſcenes like humour) That it is not he, but M'Sarcaſm, that has ſo damned a northern brogue, that nobody can underſtand him.
For a deciſion they both apply to the, lady; who anſwers in ſo politely cautious a manner, as to make them both happy; and goes off, praying that they will not tarry coming to dinner.
But the two lovers appetites not being ſo keen as the lady's, they remain; and on M'Sarcaſm's adviſing Sir Callaghan to be vigorous and puſh his point, the other ſings a ſong declaratory of his ſentiments:
O! you never did hear
Of an Iriſhman's fear
In love, or in battle, &c.
The ſenſe of the reſt is, that they make all the men in fighting, and all the wo⯑men in intriguing, ſtrike to them; which is tantamount to an old ſong amongſt the loweſt claſs of proſligates that are baniſhed to England from that country, For fight⯑ing and f**** (to write in the Triſtram Shandy way) there is nobody like us.
[21] For Engliſh fathers with their daugh⯑ters, Engliſh huſbands with their wives, Engliſh brothers with their ſiſters, &c. to attend to, encourage, and applaud ſuch groſs ribaldry, declares them truly meri⯑torious of the cornuted honours (ſaid to be) ſo often conſerred upon them by their weſtern brethren—when they take a mo⯑ment's leiſure to think, they muſt be co⯑vered with ſhame and confuſion, in re⯑gard to modeſty, and their own dignity.
An indecent ſong having cloſed the firſt act, the interval between that and the ſe⯑cond is filled up with a dinner; which, with as much accuracy as the preceding buſineſs, might be brought on the ſtage.
The ſecond act begins by M' Sarcaſm's (inſtead of a ſervant's) announcing to the young lady the arrival of her other original lover, 'Squire Groome, from Newmarket.
In attempting to give a pictureſque ac⯑count of Groome's perſon and attire (who is come in the very jockey dreſs in which he had rode a match) M'Sarcaſm ſays, with his uſual ſtudied ſtupidity, that he is come in Aw his pontiſicalibus—a jockey garb is a curtailed, abridged, and tight [22] dreſs; whereas the word pontiſicalibus con⯑veys the idea of an ample, flowing, and a pompous one; and we might with as much juſtice ſay, that a prelate in the full ſweep and ſway of his robe is in a trim jockey dreſs.
M'Sarcaſm having diſcharged his pac⯑ket relative to 'Squire Groome (in order as it were to relieve guard) enters Mordecai with more news about him, and the tranſ⯑action between the Iriſh and the New⯑market heroes.
On Mordecai's declaring that there is a warm conteſt between the two, M'Sar⯑caſm expreſſes his joy in hopes of a ſpeedy effuſion of either Iriſh or Newmarket blood; that of both would pleaſe him beſt, ſo wicked and bloody-minded a raſ⯑cal is he painted.
His ſhort-lived pleaſure is ſoon con⯑verted into ſorrow, when Mordecai in⯑forms him that their conteſt goes no far⯑ther, than to try who will or can drink Charlotte's health in the greateſt quantity of claret; and that the challenge, as he came from them, had riſen from one to a three pint bumper.
[23] Such buſineſs would be much ſitter ſcened in one of the taverns of Covent Garden purlieus, than in the houſe, of a ſober and reputable merchant of London.
Gentlemen of that ſedate claſs of life very ſeldom (rather never) permit ſuch riotous doings in their houſes, which would be a very pernicious example for their ſervants, &c. and detrimental to their own characters.
But treſpaſſes of this kind are nothing to our confounding author, who treats nature, reaſon, and decency with a total diſregard; and ſeems proſeſſedly to have made an experiment to know how far ab⯑ſurdity can be reliſhed in the preſent too general depravity of taſte.
At laſt on comes, or rather in tumbles, 'Squire Groome, hallooing like mad, and drunk: he begins by excuſing himſelf to Charlotte for not having come ſooner, and been time enough for dinner, which he imputes to a brother Buck's having bor⯑rowed his watch to ſet another by, but that he put his (Groom's) two hours back, which was the occaſion of his error in time.
[24] He bids her ladyſhip look at it; for that "it regulates the ſun, and that they all ſtop by it at Newmarket." When aſked by M' Sarcaſm how ſoon he could come from York to London, he anſwers, That barring any accident of leg, arm, &c. he would engage to do it in ſixteen hours thirty-ſix minutes and ſeventeen ſeconds, or thereabouts: he makes ſome immate⯑rial amendment of his calculation.
The inquiſitive M' Sarcaſm, ever ſtu⯑dious to make his rivals expoſe their weak ſide, entreats and obtains of him an ac⯑count of the match he rode for, and won: Groome, from the exuberance of his heart, tells, it was a ſubſcription—match, for which each perſon had depoſited ſo much, every ſubſcriber to ride his own beaſt: — he enumerates the odds againſt him.
Turning to the lady he ſays, "A little after they ſet out ſhe might have covered them all with her under-petticoat, but that in a ſhort time one of the match was run away with by his horſe out of the courſe, then rode over an exciſeman, two lawyers, and a beau Jew (what an unna⯑tural [25] paſſion this preternatural author has for Jew beans?) with ſuch a chocolate⯑coloured phiz as Mordecai.—He then de⯑ſcribes how he jockey'd the reſt along the courſe, and won the race.
The words are the pooreſt common-place language (as all fudge, &c.) uſed at every horſe-courſe—the acting is exquiſite; and even beyond the author's meaning. It was the actor of Groome, that rouſed a torpi⯑ſied, yawning audience the firſt night, and reſcued it from damnation—No King, no Love à la Mode—notwithſtanding M'Sar⯑caſm, O Brallaghan, and the Iſraelite.
M'Sarcaſm aſks Groome what had in⯑duced him to come and viſit Miſs Char⯑lotte in that dreſs?—He anſwers, that the bloods of the turf all offered a bet, that he would not ride to London, and viſit his miſtreſs in the very jockey garb in which he had run the race:— he took them all up, and had conſequently taken them all in, as the ſaying is.
M'Sarcaſm, to lure him on, affects to greatly admire his wonderful deeds: upon [26] which Groome tells him, that he had run a ſnail with his grace, and won it hollow, by half a horn.—Half a horn! (quoth the intelligent M'Sarcaſm) that was hollow in⯑deed. Then he is arch on to what a per⯑fection the gentlemen of the South have brought all theſe matters.
Upon which Groome exulting declares, "that he will ride a match, fight a main of cocks, drive an equipage, or hunt a pack of hounds for a thouſand guineas with any nobleman in Europe, and he ſays done firſt."
O wonderful! (ſays fleering M'Sar⯑caſm to the lady) he hunts all animals, from the flea in the blanket to the e-le-phant in the fo-reſt."—This is cer⯑tainly new—"He is, indeed, Madam, a very Nimrod." "Yes, I am a Nimrod," anſwers Groome.
It is too arduous a taſk to attempt un⯑folding the many latent beauties in this piece; therefore it is to be hoped a few ſpecimens will ſuffice.
The reader may with reaſon aſk, but all this time what is become of Sir Callag⯑han? [27] Why has he been deprived of hear⯑ing the deſcription of Groome's match ?— Has he not been able to carry the bum⯑pers that he had been drinking with Groome to Charlotte's health; or is he fallen aſleep, and tumbled under the table? But in what room or part of the houſe we really do not know.
It is agreed upon, however, that he is to be cited to the acting chamber, to afford diverſion to the lady and her lovers. When Groome hears of it, he ſays with aſtoniſh⯑ment; "An Iriſhman make love! I ſhould be glad to hear what an Iriſhman can ſay, when he makes love!"
M'Sarcaſm, the Jew, and Groome retire to a corner of the room, to overhear and be diverted with O Brallaghan's addreſſes to the lady; who is adviſed by M'Sarcaſm to aſk him for his ſo-net, which he pro⯑teſts will highly entertain her ladyſhip.
Beſides the ſtupidity of the device, what lady of the leaſt education, would co-ope⯑rate to exhibit a woer, her guardian's ne⯑phew too, for a ridiculous entertainment to his rivals, whom ſhe deſpiſes. There [28] are many courtezans would not conſent to it in a brothel; nay, it is a brothel ſcheme, where ſome of the company retired into another room, ſee through holes cut in the partition, the aukward addreſſes made to a woman, by any particular perſon they mean to laugh at—But how can any thing of the kind be tranſacted in a reputable houſe?
The lady being left alone, and a clear ſtage for Sir Callaghan, on he comes, and all the reaſon he gives for his abſence is, that he was enjoying himſelf in a ſoliloquy about her, though in the mean time there was a poſſibility of one of his rivals making advances in her eſteem.
She allows him but little time to apolo⯑gize, before ſhe aſks him for a ſong, not for her entertainment alone, but his rival hearers; which is a violent proof of the author's knowledge of the behaviour of women of polite education and rank.
By the aſſiſtance of liquor he thinks him⯑ſelf better enabled to ſpeak his mind to the lady.—He would fain excuſe himſelf from ſinging a ſong (which ſhe is put on to aſk by M' Sarcaſm) and pleads the fear of hav⯑ing [29] got at the wrong ſide of his voice; but ſhe perſiſting, he prays her not to expect ſuch good ſinging from him, as the people of the opera-houſe, becauſe " Iriſhmen are not cut out like the Italians."
This expreſſion I am informed by Scotch (officers who have been on Iriſh duty, is a very old and hackney'd black-guardiciſm there;—but it may be replied, that is no excluſive reaſon againſt the qualified au⯑thor's uſing it.—
Let other men ſing of their goddeſſes bright,
That darken the day, and enlighten the night:
I ſing of woman of ſuch fleſh and blood,
To touch but her finger would do one's heart good.
Fal lal, la, &c.
At the end of each ſtanza is introduced a daſh of the Iriſh howl, which, as Mordecai has it, he roars not ſings.
The ſong finiſhed, to the great ſatis⯑faction of the three liſtening rivals in the corner, Charlotte intimates a deſire of her ardent lover O Brallaghan's remaining (in caſe of their union) at home with her, and going no more to the army.
[30] He, with two thruſt-in ſentiments, re⯑plies, " he cannot with honour, becauſe that he had ſerved his royal maſter (and a brave one he is) for ſeventeen years, who gave him money when he had none of his own; and that now he was come to a title and fortune, to deſert his ſervice when he ſtands in moſt need, would be the act of a poltroon;—that it had ever been a rule with him, never to abandon his king or his friend in diſtreſs."
Morality of this kind belongs to the in⯑genuous and noble-minded of every cli⯑mate, and is here ſtrangely appropriated to Iriſh Teaguiſm, as well as that in the firſt act—" There are two things I am equally afraid of; either to affront any man, or be⯑ing affronted myſelf:" and yet the Iriſh in general are remarkable for iraſcibility, and miſtaking an affront where none had been meant.
Is it not ſurpriſing that our author, who makes the moſt of every occaſion, has not given a panegyrical volley to the king of Pruſſia, to endear his piece the more to the crowd? that would have been ſome [31] little plea for the Iriſhman's being a Pruſſian officer—He might have extolled him above Caeſar, Hannibal, Alexander, and declared them not worthy of being his aides-de-camp. Then what huzzaing and clapping from the upper regions?
The lady declares againſt having to do with a military man, leaves him as abruptly, as ſhe had expoſed him baſely.—In amaze⯑ment, he ſays, "What, does ſhe quit the field?—I'll after ſtrait, and reconnoitre her."—
It being high time for all parties to have done their fools tricks, and put a judicious period to this wonderful piece, enter M' Sarcaſm and Mordecai, obſerving to each other that the ſhew is over, that there are bailiffs in Sir Theodore's houſe.
Sir Theodore croſſes the ſtage with an attorney, and ſhews him to the lady's apartment, to inform her of the loſs of her lawſuit.—She comes on in tears with Sir Theodore, bidding him not to deſpond, but to hope for the better; " that ſhe is ſure Sir Archibald will make them happy." [32] The Scot overhearing her, ſays, " She may as well rely on the phi-lo-ſo-phers ſtone.
Upon her application to him he tells her, he has received letters " not only remon⯑ſtrating, but expreſsly pro-hi-bi-ting his contaminating a noble family, by mixing with any thing ſprung from ſugar-hogſ⯑heads and counting-houſes.
She cloſes her indignant anſwer with " there is no virtue in man."—" Nor in woman either (quoth the Scot) who has na fortune."—He inſultingly adviſes her to take up with the wandering Iſraelite, whom he treats with amplified abuſe, but the Jew begs to be excuſed.
In ruſhes Squire Groome, roaring what the devil is the matter.—" Why I hear, Sir Theodore, that you and the ſilly have run ſoul of the poſt."—Being informed of the lady's diſaſter, he plays off too with a continuation of indecent Newmarket alle⯑gory.
On comes Sir Brallaghan, who when ever off the ſtage, ſeems as if he had been aſleep, and not to know any thing of what [33] has happened in the houſe—Where did he ſo hide himſelf?
When told of Charlott's misfortune, (as it was proper the dubbed hero ſhould) he declares that he loves her the better for it; becauſe while ſhe was computed to be worth an hundred thouſand pounds, he, could never come near her but in tremb⯑ling."—Is this agreeable to ſome of his former declarations, of attacking, ſtorming, making a coup de main, or dying upon the ſpot; or the ſenſe of the ſong which tags the firſt act, in which he ſays, he and his countrymen always make the fair and the bold ſurrender?—Her ſentimental ſpeeches on his behaviour, ſhe knowing her ſitua⯑tion not to be impaired, is quite gratis.
Sir Theodore tells Sir Callaghan, " that to reward his manly virtue, and to puniſh the other intereſted profligates, who court ladies only for their fortunes, that Char⯑lotte is as rich as ever.—Groome and Mor⯑decai appearing amazed, M'Sarcaſm bids them be quiet, that Sir Theodore ſays that to take in the Iriſh feul, who had three [34] good qualities to make a huſband — " a gud eſtate, loved Charlotte mightily, and was a blockhead.
Sir Callaghan addreſſing himſelf to Sir Theodore, ſays—" Why really I do not know the importance of all this — I can⯑not believe one word you ſay; one time you tell me Miſs Charlotte has a fortune; then ſhe has no fortune—and after, that ſhe has a fortune again: why this is like what the little jackanapes's about town do, and is called humbugging a man."
When the reality of Charlotte's fortune is aſſured beyond a doubt, the ſlung rivals expreſs their uneaſineſs;—Groome cries out, " Why the knowing-ones are taken in here—M'Sarcaſm declares he will be re⯑venged; that he knows a lad of gud fa⯑mily, that underſtands the Belles Lettres and Claſſics," (a ſtale joke againſt the Scots) and is actually writing a comedy, and that he ſhall make the parties ridiculous, by inſinuating their characters.—Mordecai vows " he will write a ſatire, and aſcribe a ſcandalous intrigue to Charlotte."— [35] Groome, to have vengeance, ſwears, " as he cannot write, he will kill her parrot, and cut off her ſquirrel's tail."
O Brallaghan accoſts them, " Pray, gentlemen, I hope you will aſk my leave for all this: if any of you touch a hair of the parrot's head, or write your ſcurrilous lampoons, I will make remarks upon your bodies. I carry a pen by my ſide that is a very good critic, and writes legible cha⯑racters, to puniſh impertinent authors."
M' Sarcaſm tells him he has the lady, and to be ſatisfied; and not to talk in that bul⯑lying way, for that others have as good ſwords as he.
O Brallaghan obſerves to Charlotte, " This is very like the cataſtrophe of a play where all the people are together, when honeſt men are rewarded, and knaves diſap⯑pointed.
Thus ends Love à la Mode, the prize is carried off by O Brallaghan, the Jew, Scot and Engliſhman baulked and abuſed. What [36] can be the tendency, or moral inſtruction of this piece?— it is pretty obvious without explaining it.
A Scotſman's Remarks, &c.
[]WITHOUT any oſtentatious diſplay of the origin of Comedy or Farce, as is but too uſual among proſeſſed pamphleteers, I ſhall confine this criticiſm ſolely to the piece in queſtion, Love à la Mode.
The buſineſs of it, in the ſenſe of Ho⯑race, is a ſubject publici juris, a common and obvious one to all writers, and will remain ſo to the end of time; to wit, a young lady's being courted by a number of contraſted lovers, whoſe characters, from their diſcordance with each other, are to furniſh out the comic enter⯑tainment.
Of this kind we have ſeveral on the Engliſh, beſides thoſe on other theatres [2] of Europe; viz. MISS LUCY IN TOWN, MISS IN HER TEENS, &C.
And yet an author may derive merit from this ſubject of common right, as we may call it, in proportion as he ſhall in⯑troduce perſonages of an higher rank of life, more elegant colouring, and a quite novel complexion.
Whenever this ſhall be executed, it is to be looked upon as the work of true ge⯑nius; but when fallen ſhort of, as often happens, it is to be deemed the impotent effort of the hard-bound brains of low pla⯑giaries, whoſe memory is filled with the ſhreds and ill-choſen ſcraps of other mens wit.
In which of theſe two claſſes the author of Love à la Mode is to be ranked, will appear from the ſubſequent remarks; whom, however, the moſt inveterate ene⯑mies he has, cannot refuſe being guilty of modeſty and gratitude on this occaſion—Of modeſty in not publiſhing; and of gratitude in not giving his generous benefactors oc⯑caſion of repenting their having patronized ſuch coarſe, inaccurate ſcenes, and ſo af⯑frontful to themſelves.
[3] To proceed methodically, let us firſt examine into the propriety of the cha⯑racters of his drama; and, ſecondly, how he has conducted the whole, and how brought on and carried off his people.
The DRAMATIS PERSONAE are,
Propriety of characters, for the preſent purpoſe, may be divided into two ſorts— The one to make them act and ſpeak in every thing ſuitably to their intended pur⯑poſe, untainted by any peculiarly vicious manner of country or education.—The other is, when the character is made to [4] reſult intirely from a provincial dialect, and local manners.
The chief mongrel characters of this farce are a monſtrous compound of both. There is nothing merely national in either the Scotch or Iriſh man, but an apeing of the vulgar accent of both-nations, with a few ſtrained (not natural) blunders in the Hibernian hero's mouth, ſince ſuch the author has been pleaſed to conſtitute him.
The character of M' Sarcaſm is ſome⯑what of Rancune's caſt in the comic ro⯑mance written by the facetious Scarron.— He is a raſcal in every ſenſe, who delights in flattering all preſent, man or woman, to his or her face, ſhrugging contempt at them at the ſame time, when they turn their backs, and tearing them to pieces when abſent.
This character is the produce of every climate; and the Iriſh in general, if we take their own words for it (I mean no national reflection, for that I ſcorn) implead them⯑ſelves for a too general tendency to de⯑traction, and to the firſt comer; whereas the Scots, are very cautious to whom they) [5] diſcloſe their diſadvantageous opinions of any perſon.
Sir Callaghan O Brallaghan is made a Pruſſian officer, to introduce him under that paſſport more favourably to the crowd, If the author had choſen it, he might with [...] much juſtice, and perhaps more, have in⯑troduced a Scotſman in that ſervice, there being no corps of either nation in it, as in France; and that moreover there was in favour of the North Briton, his brave countryman general Keith, who had long ſhared the favour, aſſiſted in the councils, and ultimately fallen in the ſervice of Pruſſia's ever-glorious monarch.
It ſure then ill becomes any aſſumed character of officerſhip in that heroic ſer⯑vice, to ſquint the leaſt, however indi⯑rectly, againſt Scotch valour, which is im⯑pudently done more than once in this farce.
An Iriſh officer in the French, Spaniſh or Auſtrian ſervice, would have been more agreeable to the general received notions of mankind. But ſuch an incoherent med⯑ley of heroiſm and ſtupidity as O Brallag⯑han is diſhed out here by his countryman, [...]ver has been exhibited before, nor ought [6] to be borne by any audience that would lay a claim to rationality.
Mordecai the beau Jew is no-body, a mere expletive foot-ball perſona, to be made a cat's paw of, to be abuſed, in⯑ſulted, and have jokes cracked upon him.
Squire Groome is no national characte⯑riſtic of England, but a general repreſen⯑tative of any perſon of the three king⯑doms, who likes horſe-racing, drinking, &c. preferably to any other happineſs; but why he ſhould be the type of the Engliſh nation, I cannot ſee, and therefore leave it to the very jumbling author to explain in the beſt manner he can; for objects receive ſtrange aſpects, as they paſs through the camera obſcura of his in⯑tellect.
Sir Theodore Goodchild, as well as his ward Charlotte, are two very ſilly ſchemers, conſidering how the world is at preſent ſituated, and that all marriages are rather the objects of prudence than paſſion. We are not Arcadian ſhepherds either in this or the next iſland.
As I am but lately come from Scotland, the firſt view I had of Love à la Mode was [7] on Saturday ſe'nnight, when a young gen⯑tleman who ſat near me in the pit, was pleaſed to inform me that it had been much ſhortened, and altered for the better ſince the firſt performance of it. That, moreover, it uſed at firſt to be preceded by a plaintive prologue, ſpoken, as was ſup⯑poſed, by a water-nymph, or one like Niobé, all tears, to deprecate the public's reſentment from the vile ſtuff that was to, be preſented; nay, he added, it was not unlike a child's endeavouring with ſobs and tears to conciliate the favour of an incenſed public in the behalf of a sinful but repent⯑ing parent.
The piece opens by Sir Theodore and Charlotte's having agreed to lay a ſcheme to try which of her lovers was the moſt ſincere, by their declaring after dinner that he was a bankrupt, &c. and ſhe ruined of conſequence.—A pretty amuſement for a wealthy merchant, and an experiment that few young ladies of fortune ought to try now-a-days, however great their me⯑rit; nay, even granting that of their ſuitor and his having ſtrong affections for them.
[8] There are family reaſons, ſuch as the providing for the younger children, &c. which would prove often inſurmountable obſtacles, where poverty ſhould really be preſented in the place of an expected large fortune.
She gives to her guardian, as if he had neither known nor ſeen them before, a reſpective deſcription of her woers.—If it was meant to inform the audience, it is ſtupid enough; that is like prefixing an explanatory argument to a play: their ap⯑pearance and buſineſs is to let the audi⯑ence into the ſecret of what they are; which accounts ſhould ever be ſhortly done, and to thoſe ſuppoſed not to have had any prior knowledge.
That given of the Jew beau Mordecai, as well as the treatment of him through-out, is idly and groſly inſulting a body of people, ſince the Jew-act has not taken place, and who ought to meet with better treatment from a man who owed his get⯑ing any footing on the ſtage to the ſup⯑poſition of his having well repreſented one of their community.
[9] That given of M'Sarcaſm is partly al⯑ready hinted at, with his being vain-glo⯑rious of the antiquity of his family.
That of 'Squire Groome gives but a very faint idea of what the actor's excellence diſplays.
The picture drawn of the Iriſh hero is rather that of a bully than a brave officer; nor is either wrote up, nor conſequently acted up to. He is deſcribed with a high-cocked hat, long ſword, ſhort-ſkirted coat, and affecting a tremendous ſtride; to which the lady adds, ‘You would think that Mars had been his foſter-father, and Bellona his nurſe, &c.’ there needed only to have been added, that every morn⯑ing he drank gunpowder tea for his break-faſt, and that he ſwallowed piſtol balls, like ſugar-plumbs, by way of helping di⯑geſtion.
Yet when Sir Callaghan comes into ac⯑tion, both his language and demeanor are of the gentleſt caſt.
Sir Theodore pretends buſineſs out, in order to give room for Charlotte's receiv⯑ing all her lovers before dinner, to which [10] they had been invited; and are expected, except 'Squire Groome, who was, it ſeems, engaged in a great horſe-match at New-market.
Sir Theodore, on his going out, is met by the firſt arrived viſitor Mordecai, who enters rather like a maſquerade buffoon than any thing elſe, and diſgracing Italian airs like a lunatic caſtrato.
After a few common-place compli⯑ments, he upon her beauty, ſhe upon his taſte, elegance, &c. ſhe accuſes him with addreſſing a certain lady, &c. he expreſſes great uneaſineſs to know from whom ſhe had learned it; ſhe tells him from M'Sar⯑caſm.
Here Mordecai adds to the already diſ⯑advantageous character given of the North Briton's, poiſonous tongue, by calling him the ſcandal ſpreader and Paſquin of the town, and ſays he is ſo great a ſcoundrel no gentleman of his country will keep him company.
This is but a poor ſalvo—Why then impoſe all the ſcoundreliſm of the piece upon Scots ſhoulders? It certainly was by [11] no means intended as a compliment, but rather as a groſs affront to North Britain, as well as the weak deſigner could exe⯑cute it.
M'Sarcaſm comes into Miſs Charlotte's apartment, and though on an intended viſit to her, ſees Mordecai before the lady (though why we are not told) in order it ſeems to have a little fun with him—There is great art here!
He then turns to the lady, aſks her pardon for not having ſeen her before (though ſhe was as obvious an object as then) in a very tireſome, drawling, heſi⯑tating, repeating, and, on the whole, ex⯑ecrable imitation of the Scots accent, through which breaks out ever and anon the Iriſh brogue.
Among other things in his very un⯑couth addreſs, he declares her to be "an epitome of all mentel and bo-de-ly per⯑fections, and that ſhe is a de-ve-ne-ty." Sir Callaghan O Brallaghan's name being brought on the carpet, M'Sarcaſm bids them not to be uneaſy about him, that he has brought him along with him; for C 2 [12] that, like the kings of old, he never tra⯑vels without his f-u-l; and that he has left him writing a love epiſtle below ſtairs, which he is ſure has not been equalled ſince the days of Don Q-u-e-x-o-t-e— E—h!
He does not tell us in what apartment below ſtairs he had left him. This gives a very contemptible idea of the author's hero, that by M'Sarcaſm, a known rival's advice, he ſhould miſemploy ſo much time below ſtairs in penning either a ſo-net or an ep-i-ſtle; while the other, during that interval, was making the moſt of his ſuit.
Mordecai, deſirous to have a ſlice, as they call it, of the Iriſhman, by way of a whet before dinner, goes off, and commodiouſly, to give M'Sarcaſm an opportunity of abu⯑ſing all his rivals, which he does e-la-bo-rate-ly.
Squire Groome he repreſents to her as a man of ruined fortune, a Newmarket ſharper, a contemptible jo-key; who would always prefer his horſes, &c. to her.
[13] Mordecai, his favourite butt for abuſe, he viliſies, among other things, for his complexion, &c.
The Iriſhman he bids her beware of on account of his being her guardian's ne⯑phew; whom he inſinuates to her he has certain information of having a deſign upon her fortune.
He laſtly comes to himſelf, and then blazons forth to her the advantages that ſhe will have, though ſprung from ſugar⯑hogſheads, rum-puncheons, a compting-houſe, &c. to be married into an a-nci-ent fe-mi-ly, of which there are four vi-counts, ſix earls, three marqueſſes, and twa duks, beſides lairds and baronets out of aw re-ch-oning beyond number.—What humming and hawing in this dull, prolix declaration!
Where is the propriety of Charlotte's guardian being uncle to Sir Callaghan? It gives room to ſuſpect; a colluſion.
Beau Mordecai, the little Girgeſhite, re⯑turns brimful of joy to tell them the Iriſh⯑man is coming. Sir Callaghan whom, from the deſcription given of his perſon and carriage, one was to expect to ſee enter the room in a moſt formidable, ſwagger⯑ing [14] manner, and dealing terror around, on the contrary comes on with all the mild vacancy of looks that denote a good-na⯑tured, untravelled young man.
He addreſſes the lady rather with re⯑ſpectful baſhfulneſs and timidity than con⯑formable to the boiſterous picture Char⯑lotte had drawn of him, and up to which his dialogue is not written; ſo the actor is not at all in fault, but the author is for his inconſiſtences.
He is aſked to indulge the lady with the deſcription of a battle, which he de⯑clines at firſt for the reaſon that he thinks it unbecoming to make mention of ſuch matters before a lady, and that it favours too much of the Fan-ſa-ron.
But urged farther he declares to her, "that there is ſo much doing every where, there is no knowing what is done any where—that every man has ſo much, buſi⯑neſs of his own, he has no time to mind that of his neighbours—that there is ſuch drumming, and ſhouting, and ſmoke, and fighting, and the delicious noiſe of arms, that it is no more poſſible to give an ac⯑count [15] of a battle than of the ſtars in the firmament."
M'Sarcaſm, like another Iago, in order to bring Mordecai into a ſcrape, eggs him on to put to Sir Callaghan ſuch queſtions as might the readier provoke his anger.
Mordecai aſks in a pert manner, "Pray, Sir Callaghan, how many men may you have killed in your time?"—To which Sir Cal⯑laghan replies, "More than a coward would chooſe to eat, or an impertinent fellow would dare to look on—So, are you anſwered, Mr. Beau Mordecai?"
M'Sarcaſm hugs himſelf with joy at the agreeable notion of Mordecai's running himſelf into a ſcrape, which might pro⯑bably rid him of both rivals—He encou⯑rages him to go on.
To Mordecai's ridiculous taunting and ſaying, If he were a general, Sir Callaghan rejoins, turning to the lady, "Look at the general, Madam—it is a trade not ſo eaſy to be learned; it requires great ge⯑nius, as well as being up late and early, enduring the ſummer's ſcorching heat and winter's freezing cold; dangers ſhould be [16] his chief delight, glory ever in view, death his greateſt reward, by which he will live for ever."
During this ſpeech the Scot and the Jew are chuckling to each other, the lat⯑ter burſting into a ſit of laughter, cries, "O the bull, a man live by death!"
Sir Callagh. "Yes, Mr. Mordecai, a man live by his death. Is not Julius Caeſar, Alexander, and all the other heroes, tho' dead two thouſand years ago, alive in hiſ⯑tory, and will be ſo to the end of time?— And is not your brave young General, who died for his country's glory before QUE⯑BEC, as much alive as any of them, and will be ſo to the end of time?"
This is a mob-timed, nay begging clap⯑trap, and therefore the lady with a ſwell⯑ing breaſt figures in to this purpoſe; "All the brave men who periſhed on that oc⯑caſion muſt be thought on with applauſe, while Britiſh annals or Britiſh gratitude remains."
The Durſeys, the Lockmans, the Mac⯑leanes, and all of that ſpecies, are ſure of claps by ſuch ſpringes to catch wood⯑cocks; [17] but true genius diſdains, becauſe the claims it has on ſame derive from more noble motives.
Opportunely a meſſage comes about dinner, which draws away the Lady and the Jew—M'Sarcaſm having repreſented the latter as a moſt contemptible being, a raſcal, &c. to the Iriſhman, aſks him if he has written the letter, according as he had adviſed; to the young lady?
Sir Callaghan replies in the negative; but ſays he has written a letter to the uncle, which, in his ſenſe, will do as well. At this anſwer M'Sarcaſm ſniggers to himſelf, and prays to hear the contents as matter of entertaining curioſity.
Among other articles, O Brallaghan reads in the letter, "nothing is ſo un⯑becoming a man of honour as to be⯑have like a ſcoundrel;" upon the novelty of which ſentiment M'Sarcaſm ſneeringly compliments him, which the dubbed hero receives kindly.
In the ſubſequent part of his letter is this paragraph, "bidding him to conſi⯑der the antiquity of the O Brallaghans fa⯑mily, [18] as old, nay older than any family in the three kingdoms, or even in Europe, it being related to all the O Sullivans, O Shag⯑heſeſnys, O Flahertys, M'Dermots, M'Clogh⯑lans, &c."—a thorough Mileſian liſt.
M'Sarcaſm objects to the aſſertion of his family being ſo ancient, and that when he ſaid ſo, he muſt have loſt fight of the North Britons, who are the only pure nobility in Great Britain.
O Brallaghan anſwers, "he knew very well what he had ſaid;" upon which M'Sarcaſm inſinuates in an angry manner, "that his having ſaid ſo muſt be attri⯑buted to his ignorance and vanity."
O Brallaghan kindles, and ſays, he does not underſtand what M' Sarcaſm would be at; who ſays, that O Brallaghan's aſſer⯑tion muſt be aſcribed "to his being igno⯑rant and vain." O Brallaghan in a mild manner declares that M' Sarcaſm muſt eat his words, or give him (0 Brallaghan) ſatisfaction.
M'Sarcaſm, with a violent affectation of iraſcibility, draws for immediate ac⯑tion; againſt which, on account of the [19] impropriety of the place, O Brallaghan expoſtulates—But upon M' Sarcaſm's in⯑ſiſting (from a ſuppoſed ſurmiſe of his an⯑tagoniſt's being ſhy) O Brallaghan draws, and tells him, that ſince determined he is as welcome as the flowers in June.
The covert ſneer againſt the brave High⯑landers before Quebec, is too flagrant.— The whole, of the Iriſh being called out⯑caſts of the Scots, and the Scots being re⯑torted as Iriſhmens baſtards, &c. is too vile for criticiſm.
Upon this ſcuſſle, with the uſual deco⯑rum of the reſt of the characters enter⯑ing, comes on alone, unattended by ſer⯑vants, &c. the lady, and aſking what's the cauſe of quarrel, Sir Callaghan anſwers, It was about M'Sarcaſm's grandmother, &c.
The lady having made peace; on which occaſion the Scotchman is made the readier to ſtrike: and after bids the Iriſhman, aſide, not to expoſe himſelf in ſpeaking about the Belles Lettres, Claſſics, &c. (of which teague had not mentioned the leaſt word) upon account of the damnable twiſt upon his tongue.
[20] Sir Callaghan replies (this is one of the ſcenes like humour) That it is not he, but M'Sarcaſm, that has ſo damned a northern brogue, that nobody can underſtand him.
For a deciſion they both apply to the, lady; who anſwers in ſo politely cautious a manner, as to make them both happy; and goes off, praying that they will not tarry coming to dinner.
But the two lovers appetites not being ſo keen as the lady's, they remain; and on M'Sarcaſm's adviſing Sir Callaghan to be vigorous and puſh his point, the other ſings a ſong declaratory of his ſentiments:
The ſenſe of the reſt is, that they make all the men in fighting, and all the wo⯑men in intriguing, ſtrike to them; which is tantamount to an old ſong amongſt the loweſt claſs of proſligates that are baniſhed to England from that country, For fight⯑ing and f**** (to write in the Triſtram Shandy way) there is nobody like us.
[21] For Engliſh fathers with their daugh⯑ters, Engliſh huſbands with their wives, Engliſh brothers with their ſiſters, &c. to attend to, encourage, and applaud ſuch groſs ribaldry, declares them truly meri⯑torious of the cornuted honours (ſaid to be) ſo often conſerred upon them by their weſtern brethren—when they take a mo⯑ment's leiſure to think, they muſt be co⯑vered with ſhame and confuſion, in re⯑gard to modeſty, and their own dignity.
An indecent ſong having cloſed the firſt act, the interval between that and the ſe⯑cond is filled up with a dinner; which, with as much accuracy as the preceding buſineſs, might be brought on the ſtage.
The ſecond act begins by M' Sarcaſm's (inſtead of a ſervant's) announcing to the young lady the arrival of her other original lover, 'Squire Groome, from Newmarket.
In attempting to give a pictureſque ac⯑count of Groome's perſon and attire (who is come in the very jockey dreſs in which he had rode a match) M'Sarcaſm ſays, with his uſual ſtudied ſtupidity, that he is come in Aw his pontiſicalibus—a jockey garb is a curtailed, abridged, and tight [22] dreſs; whereas the word pontiſicalibus con⯑veys the idea of an ample, flowing, and a pompous one; and we might with as much juſtice ſay, that a prelate in the full ſweep and ſway of his robe is in a trim jockey dreſs.
M'Sarcaſm having diſcharged his pac⯑ket relative to 'Squire Groome (in order as it were to relieve guard) enters Mordecai with more news about him, and the tranſ⯑action between the Iriſh and the New⯑market heroes.
On Mordecai's declaring that there is a warm conteſt between the two, M'Sar⯑caſm expreſſes his joy in hopes of a ſpeedy effuſion of either Iriſh or Newmarket blood; that of both would pleaſe him beſt, ſo wicked and bloody-minded a raſ⯑cal is he painted.
His ſhort-lived pleaſure is ſoon con⯑verted into ſorrow, when Mordecai in⯑forms him that their conteſt goes no far⯑ther, than to try who will or can drink Charlotte's health in the greateſt quantity of claret; and that the challenge, as he came from them, had riſen from one to a three pint bumper.
[23] Such buſineſs would be much ſitter ſcened in one of the taverns of Covent Garden purlieus, than in the houſe, of a ſober and reputable merchant of London.
Gentlemen of that ſedate claſs of life very ſeldom (rather never) permit ſuch riotous doings in their houſes, which would be a very pernicious example for their ſervants, &c. and detrimental to their own characters.
But treſpaſſes of this kind are nothing to our confounding author, who treats nature, reaſon, and decency with a total diſregard; and ſeems proſeſſedly to have made an experiment to know how far ab⯑ſurdity can be reliſhed in the preſent too general depravity of taſte.
At laſt on comes, or rather in tumbles, 'Squire Groome, hallooing like mad, and drunk: he begins by excuſing himſelf to Charlotte for not having come ſooner, and been time enough for dinner, which he imputes to a brother Buck's having bor⯑rowed his watch to ſet another by, but that he put his (Groom's) two hours back, which was the occaſion of his error in time.
[24] He bids her ladyſhip look at it; for that "it regulates the ſun, and that they all ſtop by it at Newmarket." When aſked by M' Sarcaſm how ſoon he could come from York to London, he anſwers, That barring any accident of leg, arm, &c. he would engage to do it in ſixteen hours thirty-ſix minutes and ſeventeen ſeconds, or thereabouts: he makes ſome immate⯑rial amendment of his calculation.
The inquiſitive M' Sarcaſm, ever ſtu⯑dious to make his rivals expoſe their weak ſide, entreats and obtains of him an ac⯑count of the match he rode for, and won: Groome, from the exuberance of his heart, tells, it was a ſubſcription—match, for which each perſon had depoſited ſo much, every ſubſcriber to ride his own beaſt: — he enumerates the odds againſt him.
Turning to the lady he ſays, "A little after they ſet out ſhe might have covered them all with her under-petticoat, but that in a ſhort time one of the match was run away with by his horſe out of the courſe, then rode over an exciſeman, two lawyers, and a beau Jew (what an unna⯑tural [25] paſſion this preternatural author has for Jew beans?) with ſuch a chocolate⯑coloured phiz as Mordecai.—He then de⯑ſcribes how he jockey'd the reſt along the courſe, and won the race.
The words are the pooreſt common-place language (as all fudge, &c.) uſed at every horſe-courſe—the acting is exquiſite; and even beyond the author's meaning. It was the actor of Groome, that rouſed a torpi⯑ſied, yawning audience the firſt night, and reſcued it from damnation—No King, no Love à la Mode—notwithſtanding M'Sar⯑caſm, O Brallaghan, and the Iſraelite.
M'Sarcaſm aſks Groome what had in⯑duced him to come and viſit Miſs Char⯑lotte in that dreſs?—He anſwers, that the bloods of the turf all offered a bet, that he would not ride to London, and viſit his miſtreſs in the very jockey garb in which he had run the race:— he took them all up, and had conſequently taken them all in, as the ſaying is.
M'Sarcaſm, to lure him on, affects to greatly admire his wonderful deeds: upon [26] which Groome tells him, that he had run a ſnail with his grace, and won it hollow, by half a horn.—Half a horn! (quoth the intelligent M'Sarcaſm) that was hollow in⯑deed. Then he is arch on to what a per⯑fection the gentlemen of the South have brought all theſe matters.
Upon which Groome exulting declares, "that he will ride a match, fight a main of cocks, drive an equipage, or hunt a pack of hounds for a thouſand guineas with any nobleman in Europe, and he ſays done firſt."
O wonderful! (ſays fleering M'Sar⯑caſm to the lady) he hunts all animals, from the flea in the blanket to the e-le-phant in the fo-reſt."—This is cer⯑tainly new—"He is, indeed, Madam, a very Nimrod." "Yes, I am a Nimrod," anſwers Groome.
It is too arduous a taſk to attempt un⯑folding the many latent beauties in this piece; therefore it is to be hoped a few ſpecimens will ſuffice.
The reader may with reaſon aſk, but all this time what is become of Sir Callag⯑han? [27] Why has he been deprived of hear⯑ing the deſcription of Groome's match ?— Has he not been able to carry the bum⯑pers that he had been drinking with Groome to Charlotte's health; or is he fallen aſleep, and tumbled under the table? But in what room or part of the houſe we really do not know.
It is agreed upon, however, that he is to be cited to the acting chamber, to afford diverſion to the lady and her lovers. When Groome hears of it, he ſays with aſtoniſh⯑ment; "An Iriſhman make love! I ſhould be glad to hear what an Iriſhman can ſay, when he makes love!"
M'Sarcaſm, the Jew, and Groome retire to a corner of the room, to overhear and be diverted with O Brallaghan's addreſſes to the lady; who is adviſed by M'Sarcaſm to aſk him for his ſo-net, which he pro⯑teſts will highly entertain her ladyſhip.
Beſides the ſtupidity of the device, what lady of the leaſt education, would co-ope⯑rate to exhibit a woer, her guardian's ne⯑phew too, for a ridiculous entertainment to his rivals, whom ſhe deſpiſes. There [28] are many courtezans would not conſent to it in a brothel; nay, it is a brothel ſcheme, where ſome of the company retired into another room, ſee through holes cut in the partition, the aukward addreſſes made to a woman, by any particular perſon they mean to laugh at—But how can any thing of the kind be tranſacted in a reputable houſe?
The lady being left alone, and a clear ſtage for Sir Callaghan, on he comes, and all the reaſon he gives for his abſence is, that he was enjoying himſelf in a ſoliloquy about her, though in the mean time there was a poſſibility of one of his rivals making advances in her eſteem.
She allows him but little time to apolo⯑gize, before ſhe aſks him for a ſong, not for her entertainment alone, but his rival hearers; which is a violent proof of the author's knowledge of the behaviour of women of polite education and rank.
By the aſſiſtance of liquor he thinks him⯑ſelf better enabled to ſpeak his mind to the lady.—He would fain excuſe himſelf from ſinging a ſong (which ſhe is put on to aſk by M' Sarcaſm) and pleads the fear of hav⯑ing [29] got at the wrong ſide of his voice; but ſhe perſiſting, he prays her not to expect ſuch good ſinging from him, as the people of the opera-houſe, becauſe " Iriſhmen are not cut out like the Italians."
This expreſſion I am informed by Scotch (officers who have been on Iriſh duty, is a very old and hackney'd black-guardiciſm there;—but it may be replied, that is no excluſive reaſon againſt the qualified au⯑thor's uſing it.—
At the end of each ſtanza is introduced a daſh of the Iriſh howl, which, as Mordecai has it, he roars not ſings.
The ſong finiſhed, to the great ſatis⯑faction of the three liſtening rivals in the corner, Charlotte intimates a deſire of her ardent lover O Brallaghan's remaining (in caſe of their union) at home with her, and going no more to the army.
[30] He, with two thruſt-in ſentiments, re⯑plies, " he cannot with honour, becauſe that he had ſerved his royal maſter (and a brave one he is) for ſeventeen years, who gave him money when he had none of his own; and that now he was come to a title and fortune, to deſert his ſervice when he ſtands in moſt need, would be the act of a poltroon;—that it had ever been a rule with him, never to abandon his king or his friend in diſtreſs."
Morality of this kind belongs to the in⯑genuous and noble-minded of every cli⯑mate, and is here ſtrangely appropriated to Iriſh Teaguiſm, as well as that in the firſt act—" There are two things I am equally afraid of; either to affront any man, or be⯑ing affronted myſelf:" and yet the Iriſh in general are remarkable for iraſcibility, and miſtaking an affront where none had been meant.
Is it not ſurpriſing that our author, who makes the moſt of every occaſion, has not given a panegyrical volley to the king of Pruſſia, to endear his piece the more to the crowd? that would have been ſome [31] little plea for the Iriſhman's being a Pruſſian officer—He might have extolled him above Caeſar, Hannibal, Alexander, and declared them not worthy of being his aides-de-camp. Then what huzzaing and clapping from the upper regions?
The lady declares againſt having to do with a military man, leaves him as abruptly, as ſhe had expoſed him baſely.—In amaze⯑ment, he ſays, "What, does ſhe quit the field?—I'll after ſtrait, and reconnoitre her."—
It being high time for all parties to have done their fools tricks, and put a judicious period to this wonderful piece, enter M' Sarcaſm and Mordecai, obſerving to each other that the ſhew is over, that there are bailiffs in Sir Theodore's houſe.
Sir Theodore croſſes the ſtage with an attorney, and ſhews him to the lady's apartment, to inform her of the loſs of her lawſuit.—She comes on in tears with Sir Theodore, bidding him not to deſpond, but to hope for the better; " that ſhe is ſure Sir Archibald will make them happy." [32] The Scot overhearing her, ſays, " She may as well rely on the phi-lo-ſo-phers ſtone.
Upon her application to him he tells her, he has received letters " not only remon⯑ſtrating, but expreſsly pro-hi-bi-ting his contaminating a noble family, by mixing with any thing ſprung from ſugar-hogſ⯑heads and counting-houſes.
She cloſes her indignant anſwer with " there is no virtue in man."—" Nor in woman either (quoth the Scot) who has na fortune."—He inſultingly adviſes her to take up with the wandering Iſraelite, whom he treats with amplified abuſe, but the Jew begs to be excuſed.
In ruſhes Squire Groome, roaring what the devil is the matter.—" Why I hear, Sir Theodore, that you and the ſilly have run ſoul of the poſt."—Being informed of the lady's diſaſter, he plays off too with a continuation of indecent Newmarket alle⯑gory.
On comes Sir Brallaghan, who when ever off the ſtage, ſeems as if he had been aſleep, and not to know any thing of what [33] has happened in the houſe—Where did he ſo hide himſelf?
When told of Charlott's misfortune, (as it was proper the dubbed hero ſhould) he declares that he loves her the better for it; becauſe while ſhe was computed to be worth an hundred thouſand pounds, he, could never come near her but in tremb⯑ling."—Is this agreeable to ſome of his former declarations, of attacking, ſtorming, making a coup de main, or dying upon the ſpot; or the ſenſe of the ſong which tags the firſt act, in which he ſays, he and his countrymen always make the fair and the bold ſurrender?—Her ſentimental ſpeeches on his behaviour, ſhe knowing her ſitua⯑tion not to be impaired, is quite gratis.
Sir Theodore tells Sir Callaghan, " that to reward his manly virtue, and to puniſh the other intereſted profligates, who court ladies only for their fortunes, that Char⯑lotte is as rich as ever.—Groome and Mor⯑decai appearing amazed, M'Sarcaſm bids them be quiet, that Sir Theodore ſays that to take in the Iriſh feul, who had three [34] good qualities to make a huſband — " a gud eſtate, loved Charlotte mightily, and was a blockhead.
Sir Callaghan addreſſing himſelf to Sir Theodore, ſays—" Why really I do not know the importance of all this — I can⯑not believe one word you ſay; one time you tell me Miſs Charlotte has a fortune; then ſhe has no fortune—and after, that ſhe has a fortune again: why this is like what the little jackanapes's about town do, and is called humbugging a man."
When the reality of Charlotte's fortune is aſſured beyond a doubt, the ſlung rivals expreſs their uneaſineſs;—Groome cries out, " Why the knowing-ones are taken in here—M'Sarcaſm declares he will be re⯑venged; that he knows a lad of gud fa⯑mily, that underſtands the Belles Lettres and Claſſics," (a ſtale joke againſt the Scots) and is actually writing a comedy, and that he ſhall make the parties ridiculous, by inſinuating their characters.—Mordecai vows " he will write a ſatire, and aſcribe a ſcandalous intrigue to Charlotte."— [35] Groome, to have vengeance, ſwears, " as he cannot write, he will kill her parrot, and cut off her ſquirrel's tail."
O Brallaghan accoſts them, " Pray, gentlemen, I hope you will aſk my leave for all this: if any of you touch a hair of the parrot's head, or write your ſcurrilous lampoons, I will make remarks upon your bodies. I carry a pen by my ſide that is a very good critic, and writes legible cha⯑racters, to puniſh impertinent authors."
M' Sarcaſm tells him he has the lady, and to be ſatisfied; and not to talk in that bul⯑lying way, for that others have as good ſwords as he.
O Brallaghan obſerves to Charlotte, " This is very like the cataſtrophe of a play where all the people are together, when honeſt men are rewarded, and knaves diſap⯑pointed.
Thus ends Love à la Mode, the prize is carried off by O Brallaghan, the Jew, Scot and Engliſhman baulked and abuſed. What [36] can be the tendency, or moral inſtruction of this piece?— it is pretty obvious without explaining it.