IC-NRLF MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS: 91 IN FIVE ACTS. AS PERFORMED ONCE (THOUGH " ANNOUNCED FOR REPETITION AMIDST CONSIDERABLE APPLAUSE" Times.} AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN, ON THE 24TH JANUARY, 1843. BY ROBERT BELL, ESQ. // AUTHOR OF " MARRIAGE," &C. SECOND EDITION; WITH AN EXPLANATORY PREFACE. LONDON: JOHN MORTIMER, ADELAIDE STREET, TRAFALGAR SQUARE. MDCCCXLIV. ' C. WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STBXND. CHARACTERS IN THE COMEDY. LADY MANIFOLD. EMELY MANIFOLD. LORD MERLIN. MR. SANDFORD. LOOP. CUSHION. MABEL TREVOR. ROSE. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. CAPT. SWINFORD HASTINGS, MONTAGUE. BLUNT. TOM. Represented at Covent Garden Theatre on the 24th January, 1843, by the following ladies and gentlemen : MRS. OROER. I Miss VANDENHOFF. MRS. WALTER LACY. MRS. HUMBY. MR. VANDENHOFF. MR. COOPER. MR. WIGAN. MR. GRANBY. MR. BARTLEY. MR. HARLEY. MR. MEADOWS. MR. J. RIDGWAY. TO WHOM, AS A MARK OF HIS GRATEFUL SENSE OF THEIR EXERTIONS ON THAT OCCASION, AND OF HIS REGRET THAT THEIR EXERTIONS SHOULD HAVE BEEN MADE IN VAIN, THE AUTHOR BEGS TO INSCRIBE THIS COMEDY. b2 864188 PREFACE. " So study evermore is overshot ; While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the things it should ; And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won, as towns with fire ; so won, so lost." Love* Labour Lost. THE drama is a lottery, in which the blanks have a woful preponderance. Worse still one may gain a prize in this lottery at a heavy loss. The fortunes of plays are as various as their plots, with this additional perplexity, peculiarly their own that trage- dies occasionally end in laughter, and comedies sometimes come to a tragical close. " The Rivals" was hissed off the stage. " The Iron Chest," failing through the opium of Kem- ble,was carried triumphantly by the mercury of Elliston. The Duke of Buckingham crushed a play of Dryden's by a wit- ticism ; and the most finished of Congreve's comedies was hardly endured on the first night. But these are vulgar vicissitudes. All such disasters fall within the compass of ordinary probabilities. The fate of " Mothers and Daugh- ters " is unique. It is a case per sc. Nothing like it ever happened before, and I hope nothing like it may ever VI PREFACE. happen again. And it is solely in the desire to prevent it from passing into a precedent, that the adventures of this comedy are herein about to be narrated. Some plays have been enthusiastically received by ma- nagers, and then turned out of doors by audiences. But here is a play which was enthusiastically received by the audience, and then turned out of doors by the manager. Some plays have unfortunately failed ; but here is a play which succeeded unfortunately. Managers are generally glad to cultivate the prospect of profit held out by a successful novelty ; but here is a case in which the manager took considerable pains to prevent the success- ful novelty from becoming profitable to himself or any body else. This last statement, in a commercial country like England, (and, of course, it is only in a commercial point of view I have any right to suppose it can affect the manager's credit) will be entirely unintelligible. But I beg the courteous reader to bear in mind that I do not expect him to understand it. I do not understand it myself, and am never likely to be able to understand it, though I have left no means or methods of investigation untried no avenues of enquiry unexplored no oracles unquestioned to obtain a satisfactory explanation of the reason why Mr. Bunn treated, not me so ill, but himself. There are some things, however, not the less true, merely because they are incredible. When this piece was written, it was sent to Mr. Webster, to whom the fugitive Comic Muse of these latter times has always appealed with confidence ; and I have never heard of an instance in which she appealed in vain. His reception of the play was frank and cordial; and his opinion of PREFACE. Vll it more flattering than it would become me to repeat. But even managers themselves cannot always control the adverse destinies of plays. Mr. Webster thought the prin- cipal character peculiarly adapted for Mr. Farren. I thought so too. He is a wise man who does not occasionally reckon without his host. Mr. Farren thought differently. He might have been right although there is a proverb which hints that people are not always the best judges in their own cases. But, right or wrong, his opinion on the point was final. There was nobody else who could play the cha- racter at least, while Mr. Farren was in the theatre. It was aut CcBsar aut nihiL I did not put Mr. Webster to the pain of deciding the question for me ; for I felt that it would be a pain to him, and that it would be ungracious in me to inflict it upon him. I withdrew the comedy from the Haymarket. But I cannot change the scene to St. James's Place, where the comedy shortly afterwards found itself, one bright sunny morning, in the hands of Mr. Bunn, without taking this opportunity of expressing my earnest sense of the courtesy and kindness I have received from Mr. Webster. I am the more anxious to do this, because I believe the charge against managers is generally well-founded, of a want of candour and sympathy and bienseance ; (a want, by the way, for which some very extenuating circumstances might be reason- ably pleaded in the difficulties and responsibilities of a po- sition, often harassing and invidious, and for which dra- matists do not always make sufficient allowance) and be- cause I believe no manager, at any period, has ever been less obnoxious to imputations of that sort than Mr. Webster. At least so much is due from me personally ; and I gladly Vlll PREFACE. render this tribute to the public merits of a gentleman who has certainly done more than anybody else for the encouragement of English comedy. Well the next scene in this eventful history was St. James's Place. Mr. Bunh had just entered upon the ma- nagement of Covent Garden. It was the only theatre at which this comedy could then be produced ; and the only alternative that seemed open to me, was either to put the MS. into the fire, or into the hands of Mr. Bunn. I de- cided upon the latter course. Perhaps I ought to have pre- ferred the former; but MSS. are so slow in their growth, that while they are growing to maturity, one is apt to acquire a foolish habit of hoping a better fate for them. Mr. Bunn's approval of the play was no less emphatic than Mr. Webster's. I had the managers with me at all events, and it seemed as if Fortune could never weary of doing me good offices in every direction, except that which led to the critical sanction of Mr. Farren. Strangely enough, Mr. Bunn had no sooner read the comedy, than he arrived at the conclusion that Mr. Farren was the only actor who could do justice to the character of Lord Merlin ; and, before he had communicated with me on the subject, he actually offered him an engagement for the two months of the Haymarket recess, to appear in this very part ! Mr. Bunn was, of course, ignorant of Mr. Farren's judgment in the matter. But in any case Mr. Farren could not come. He had provincial engagements. It is worthy of note, that both managers, men of expe- rience and observation, thought the character peculiarly suited to Mr. Farren; but that Mr. Farren, to use the green-room phrase, could not see himself in it. If actors PREFACE. IX were never to play parts, except such parts as they could see themselves in beforehand, they would do themselves great injustice. True genius must create as well as embody. Mr. Bunn confessed frankly to me that he felt the want of Mr. Farren in this part, a terrible difficulty. But as there are different aspects to the same humanity, and different modes of presenting and yet preserving the same truth, I did not think it an insuperable difficulty. I thought it possible that a comedy might be played without Mr. Farren ; by which I hope nobody will suppose that I undervalue Mr. Farren's conspicuous abilities. I merely drew that inference from the fact that comedies had been produced on the English stage before Mr. Farren's time, and from the presumption that they might continue to be produced even in time to come. I thought that, as there was a serious side to the character of Lord Merlin, as well as a comic one, and as, indeed, there lay a very grave pur- pose at the bottom, an actor of a totally opposite cast might bring out the expression of the portrait as justly, although, perhaps, not so effectively, as Mr. Farren. I ventured to suggest this to Mr. Bunn. The comedy was now handed over to the stage-manager. It was a step nearer to the green-room. It had arrived in the theatre, and been read by Mr. Bartley upon whose judg- ment I place especial stress who literally pronounced a panegyric upon it. Certainly there never was a play had so many cheering and unexceptionable and influential omens in its favour. Had I been skilled in astrology, I might have begun to suspect that my lucky star was shining too brightly, Mr. Bartley had but one misgiving. What was to be done with Lord Merlin ? There was but one individual on X PREFACE. the stage who could realize the author's precise intention j and that individual was Mr. Farren ! Mr. Bartley's im- pression on this point was so strong, that he could hardly credit the fact that Mr. Farren held a different opinion ; he seemed to think that it was like Mr. Farren differing from Mr. Farren. But so it was ; and there was no help for it. It was suggested that Mr. Vandenhoff should be requested to read the part. This was, if you please, a leap in the dark. The character was out of his usual way. But I have great faith in what may be done by a man of superior attainments when he applies himself to a new pursuit. I was not disappointed in the sequel; and if the comedy had not been strangled in its cradle, Mr. Van- denhoff would have ably vindicated the propriety of an experiment which I cannot sufficiently thank him for having undertaken. In the meanwhile Mr. Bartley expressed considerable hesitation about the cast generally. He was obliging enough to say that the comedy required a much stronger cast than the resources of the theatre could command: that it wanted such actors as Elliston, Munden, and others of that day; and, with a friendly zeal for which I am bound to be grateful, he advised me to reconsider the prudence of bringing it out under such circumstances. He assured me that instead of running thirty or forty nights, as, properly cast, it ought to run, it would probably not live beyond fifteen or twenty.* I refer to Mr. Bartley's " If the comedy were mine," was one of Mr. Hartley's observations, " I should lock it up like a bank-post bill, and wait patiently." " So should I," was the answer, " if you could tell me when it would be due? The whole affair is a practical commentary on the present state of our theatres. A dramatist gets a play enacted, not when he ought, but when he can. PREFACE. XI judicious counsel, because it is due to him to acknowledge the soundness of his advice; and also for the sake of show- ing that I voluntarily incurred the risk of running only fifteen or twenty nights, presuming the comedy to succeed on the first night, which was the great risk after all. Mr. Vandenhoff had now read the comedy, and was of opinion that he could make something of Lord Merlin. He felt, of course, that it was rather a novel attempt for a tra- gedian ; but that was not his chief embarrassment. The truth was, that the whole time he was reading and studying the part, he could not help feeling as if there was an en- chantment over the words ; as if there was a Mephisto- philes in the shape of Mr. Farren at his elbow, repeating them in his ear; and, for the life of him of Mr. Vanden- hoff, the tragedian he could not help instinctively imitat- ing Mr. Farren in his own mind, as he read the part, line by line. In short, he would have felt no difficulty in play- ing Lord Merlin as Mr. Farren, but was, for that very reason, somewhat puzzled how to play it as Mr. Vanden- hoff. Alas ! every body could see Mr. Farren in it, except Mr. Farren himself ! It was a heavy trouble to me that, whichever way I turned, this image of Mr. Farren rose up before me, with that jaunty, pinched, old-gentlemanly air, so familiar to the public, and which seemed in every body's imagination the exact ideal of Lord Merlin. Even Mr. Vandenhoff at rehearsal looked as if he had been bewitched into a sort of wraith of the absent comedian; and people cracked spectral jokes about him, which had something of the ghastly effect of blue lights let in upon a scene of high co- medy. Nothing could be more humorously dismal. The figure haunted me incessantly, and its sharp, licorous tones Xll PREFACE. every now and then seemed to ring through the dialogue. There was no getting rid of it. I tried all sorts of exor- cisms in vain. The Presence, like an ill-omened bird, brooded over the play to the last. All this was well enough, or ill enough, through the twilight rehearsals, on the dim, shadowy stage at noon, when, whatever scanty light there was could only straggle in obliquely through strange loops in the roof; but it was to be hoped that this night-mare, or day-mare, would vanish in the broad lustre of the lighted theatre, when the heart of the merry audience would be stirred by eager expectation, and the Action to be realized, whatever might be the issue, would at least have the advantage of being developed in Shapes too palpable to ad- mit of any disturbing influences. I thought I was safe here at all events, and that Mr. VandenhofPs Lord Merlin would be a portrait so individual and distinct, and, above all, so unlike Mr. Farren, that nobody could trace in it or in the character as rendered by Mr. Vandenhoff any of Mr. Farren's peculiar and dissimilar lineaments. I was mistaken. Like the grisly head of Winter in the Painted Hall at Greenwich, the eyes of Mr. Farren glared upon me through Lord Merlin, move where I would ; and as invisible ink gives out precisely the same purport, no matter by whose hand it is held to the fire, so Lord Merlin was still Mr. Farren, let who would assume the costume and " speak the speech." The critics unanimously declared that they saw Mr. Farren all through the part. Their unanimity on this point was so remarkable, that one might almost sus- pect it to have been got up by concert or stratagem.* * " We should presume that this comedy was intended for the Hay- market, and that Mr. Bell took measure of Mr. W. Farren for the part of Lord Merlin." Illustrated News. " Lord Merlin is a character which Farren should have played, and which, in his hands would have taken PREFACE. Xlll Here I must take leave of Mr, Farren, who has hitherto carried me a little out of my course ; just as in the first instance he unwittingly diverted the comedy from its original destination. But I could not dispense with him. He is as inseparable from the narrative of the comedy's adven- tures, as from the comedy itself. I cannot divorce him from either ; and I have really some doubts, whether, in this new edition, considering the influence he has silently exercised over the play, I ought not to blot out the name of Lord Merlin from the dramatis personce, and substitute Mr. Farren's in its place. But, before we return to our moutons, let me protest against any misunderstanding touching this gentleman. Every actor has a right, for all I know to the contrary, to decline any or every part proposed to him. This is a matter I have nothing to do with ; it belongs to the vital politics and managerial economy of the green room. It is obvious, however, than when an actor does decline a part, he invites criticism upon so responsible an exercise of his judgment. There may be, and often is, a profounder know- its proper place in the comedy." Argus. " Mr. Vandenhoff appears in a character written for Farren ; or so suitable to the powers of that actor, that it is only matter of regret the public could not see him in it." Satii'ist. " Had Farren played Lord Merlin, and C. Matthews Sandford, the incongruity between the manners of the actors, and the language of the writer would not have been so apparent." Sunday Times. " Mr. Farren ' could not see himself in it/ as the player's phrase runs, and re. fused the part. * * If Mr. Farren could really ' see himself/ although we acknowledge his great talents, he would give up at least one-third of the characters he is in the habit of performing. * * * Mothers and Daughters' was cheerfully accepted by the manager of the Haymarket Theatre, and would have been produced there but for the unwarrantable egotism of Mr, Farren. Its merits were at once ac- knowledged at Covent Garden Theatre, and the only obstacle it had to encounter was the want of actors to do them j ustice." John Bull. We might easily accumulate similar opinions, but cut bono ? XIV PREFACE. ledge of art concealed under rejected suggestions, than we find displayed in fulfilled designs. The question is at once raised in such a case as this. The actor may have a right to refuse a part; but public opinion has a right to examine and decide upon the propriety of that refusal. His refusal becomes just as much a matter of criticism in art, as his ac- ceptance. It affects the result no less in an opposite direc- tion, and generally a great deal more. It is enough for me to confine myself to the simple fact of Mr. Farren's inability to see himself in Lord Merlin, and the inability of the pub- lic to see anybody else in it. Mr. Farren may have a clear right to reject or select ; and yet, like many other great men, may not always avail himself of his right rightly. In this instance, the public have plainly declared that he used his right wrongly. The only revenge I desire is, that he may speedily be able to resume those efforts in which the errors of his judgment are not so easily detected. The loss of the public who sadly miss his triumphant chuckle over the footlights, with the tails of his coat dancing on the tips of his fingers is much greater than mine. Let us now conduct the comedy with all due honours into the green-room. The company are assembled. Mr. Bartley reads the play. Every body concerned entertains the stranger with the most cordial good-will. All the scenes tell successfully (a good omen) on the habitual nerves of the listeners. The parts are cast and distributed ; and the pleasant group, with their various fluctuating anticipations, break up like a flight of birds. This was on Saturday, January 14th, 1843. To those who are acquainted with the preparations requi- site for putting a five-act comedy on the stage, with any reasonable hope of success, it is needless to observe that PREFACE. XV some little time is necessary for study, and for such a num- ber of rehearsals as will enable the performers not only to master the finesse of the dialogue (to say nothing about character), but to acquire a certain degree of fluency in its delivery that fluency which is the life-blood of acted comedy. But to those who are not familiar with stage mysteries, it may be as well to add, that the time usually consumed in these preliminaries (as essential for the actors as the author), is about a month or six weeks, according to circumstances. In France, where these matters are much better ordered, a still longer period is devoted to this purpose. Some notion of the care that was bestowed upon this comedy, may be formed from the circumstance, that it had FOUR rehearsals between the day when it was read in the green-room, and the night of its production on the stage ; and some of these rehearsals, too, were scrambled for amongst a mob of people who were trying to hurry forward in the same helter-skelter way, a tumultuous opera of such multitudinous magnificence, that it must have put the printer to his wits' end to squeeze its descriptive particulars into a double play-bill ! To suppose that any actors could be ready to do justice to a new play, or to themselves, at such short notice, would be preposterous ; but in this case, where some of the characters did not sit quite easily upon the performers, the utmost that could be hoped for, was to escape a complete and disgraceful failure. How much praise, then, is due to the artists who, under such circum- stances, carried the play triumphantly through its perilous ordeal ? " Mothers and Daughters" was produced on Tuesday, 24th January, and the play-bill of that day was filled with XVI PREFACE. announcements up to the following Saturday, This is a significant feature in the case. If Mr. Bunn intended to give the comedy the smallest chance of success, he would have left room for its repetition, while the impression it made was yet fresh. But he never intended that it should succeed ; for reasons like those which made Dr. Johnson sleep without a night-cap reasons which shall never be re- vealed to the remotest posterity, and which nobody will ever take the trouble to inquire into. The representation was entirely successful. All the news- papers, with their infinite shades of critical opinion, agreed upon this point.* The reception was in the highest degree * I have no desire to gather a bundle of laudatory criticisms from the newspapers, but simply to call witnesses, as a part of the case, in proof of the 'assertion that the play was entirely successful. " The piece was announced for repetition amidst considerable applause.'* Times. " There was a great deal of applause, both during the performance of the comedy and at the conclusion, when Mr. Vandenhoff and the author were called for." M.Chronicle. " The comedy commanded the most favourable atten- tion of the house throughout its whole trial; it frequently drew down very general peals of laughter, and on the fall of the curtain its repetition was announced amid very warm plaudits. This was followed by a call for the author," &c. M. Herald. " Each act, nay, several of the scenes in each were followed by an encore of enthusiastic applause. The cur- tain descended amid loud and general applause." M. Advertiser. " The play went off with great applause." -AT. Post. " At the fall of the curtain the applause was universal. The piece was one of the best comedies that has been produced of late years." Sun. " Running over hastily in our minds the comedies which have been produced during the present century, we cannot think of one superior as a whole to this. It was well received throughout," &c. Britannia. " The play went off with great applause." W. Chronicle. " The audience were perfectly pleased. It was given out for repetition with much applause." Observer. " The author was com- pelled to bow from his box amidst unanimous approbation." Illustrated London News. " The merits of this work prevailed over circumstances, and it went triumphantly to a close. The applause during the fourth act was continuous. At the announcement for repetition the cheering PREFACE. XVII gratifying to everybody except the manager. He was the only dissentient in the house. Mr. Bunn arrived just before the close of the performance. He was in time for the clamorous applause that crowned the final efforts of the performers ; and before he retired from his box, the play agreeably to the arrangements previ- ously made was announced for repetition on the following Saturday. The audience were evidently taken by surprise at such an extraordinary and unprecedented postponement of a successful drama, and cried out for its repetition on the following night. Their enthusiasm was drowned bythefiddles. It might, perhaps, be said, that the play-bill ought not to be taken as conclusive evidence of the manager's inten- tion not to repeat the comedy before Saturday, as he could have easily displaced the entertainments announced for the intervening nights, had the reception of the comedy seemed to him such as would warrant him in doing so ; but it is quite clear that he really did not mean to displace those entertainments under any circumstances, simply because he did not leave his box until the stage-manager had already acted upon the arrangement laid down in the bill, so that he could not have averted the fulfilment of that arrange- ment, unless, like Sir Boyle Roche's bird, he could have been in two places at once. The comedy was found too lengthy in representation, and the following Thursday was appointed for the purpose of effecting the necessary curtailments, the company being called together by Mr. Bunn for that purpose. In the meanwhile, the playbill of Wednesday was issued was very great ."Argus . " The applause was enthusiastic and ge- neral." Sunday Times. " The piece was announced for repetition amidst considerable applause." Sentinel. This is surely enough to show that at least the comedy succeeded. PREFACE. with this announcement : ( ' The New Comedy of ' Mothers and Daughters' having been successful, will be repeated on the following Saturday." Here at least was an acknow- ledgment, churlish enough to be sure, that the comedy was successful. On Wednesday, however, some new light broke in upon the manager, and the playbill of Thursday came out with this startling advertisement, in place of that which had previously appeared : " The new and successful Comedy of ' Mothers and Daughters' will be repeated three times a week." Here then was a comedy postponed for four days after its first appearance, and in the interval an- nounced for repetition three times a week ; as if, during the period of its withdrawal, it had somehow contrived to in- crease its power of attraction. But the flattering promise of the playbill was only designed to hoax the public not the author. I was very soon undeceived. It was evident from an interview I had with Mr. Bunn on the Thursday, that he \vas in the meshes of a dilemma of his own cre- ating ; and that he would have acted more candidly if he had never announced the comedy for repetition at all more honestly, if he had never put it into rehearsal. It was plain to see that he had calculated all along on the failure of the play; that he had, so to speak, made a sort of provision for its failure ; that he was disappointed by its success, for which, in fact, he had made no provision ; and that, expert as he is in strategy, he really did not know how to extricate himself from this comical embarrass- ment. There was clearly nothing to be done in the way of argument : sundry expedients were thrown out, but they were dispersed like dust in a whirlwind ; and so the interview ended, Mr. Bunn promising to communicate with me as soon as he had resolved upon his plans. PREFACE. XIX I never heard from Mr. Bunn again. I might have waited till Doomsday, had I waited for any further com- munication. The announcement that the comedy would be repeated three times a-week, remained in the bills on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. On Monday, it was changed to " Due notice will be given of the next performance of the Comedy of e Mothers and Daughters/ " This " due no- tice" is still " due," For three or four days longer, the amiable fiction was republished ; and then the name of the comedy was finally dropped out altogether. If this were a matter simply between the author and the manager, I should certainly let the play glide quietly into oblivion, like a bubble on the waters, that had just glanced for a moment in the sunshine, and then suddenly drifted into shadow. But it is a matter of rather a wider reach it involves the interests of all future dramatic writers, and through them the interests of dramatic literature itself; and it also involves the right of the public to insist upon having their verdicts respected. When a play is damned, the author suffers in proportion : shall he not have the benefit of success ? I am well aware that all questions of this nature become more or less evasive, in the attempt to define and fix the responsibility ; but the fact of respon- sibility on general grounds is indisputable, while its extent and exaction must depend upon the special circumstances of each case. The substantive question here is this : Whether a mana- ger is justified in withdrawing a play which the public has approved, and the success of which, on its first repre- sentation, he has himself acknowledged in his bills ? I felt that, even if I were indifferent to the assertion of XX PREFACE. any personal reputation involved in the sudden death of a successful play, this was a question I had no right to com- promise. It appeared to me that an obvious principle of common justice had been recklessly violated, and that I should be in some sort particeps criminis if I submitted to it. To acquiesce in a wrong is to confirm and consummate it. I resolved not to submit, but to bring this question to issue at any sacrifice. In vain I endeavoured to ascertain why the comedy was thus unnaturally interred, while it was literally drawing its first breath, full of hope and vitality; the printed copy alone surviving to mourn, like Corneille's princess, over its buried half' Pleurez, pleurez mes yeux, et fondez vous en eau, La moiti6 de ma vie a mis 1'autre au tombeau. It was insinuated that the real cause was the small ness of the receipts. We have heard that Tenterden steeple is the cause of Goodwin's Sands. Whoever believes the one may believe the other. The comedy was withdrawn, and the British public was invited to witness, in its place, the highly- popular entertainments of " Rob Roy" and " Gustavus" an invitation which the British public had the bad taste to decline. If the manager wished to have had the whole house to himself, he could not have devised a more inge- nious expedient ; and night after night he certainly had it all to himself. But if the receipts were small what had that to do with the comedy ? It is not by the amount of the receipts the fate of a play is determined, but by the amount of applause. It has grown up almost into a theatrical pro- verb now-a-days, that first nights are not productive. People seem to wait to hear the result before they peril PREFACE. XXI their money. We have Mr. Bunn's own authority for the fact, that he always distributed three or four hundred free admissions on the first three or four nights of Mr. Sheridan Knowles' new plays.* Now, the admissions issued on the first night of " Mothers and Daughters" bore no comparison with this costly outlay yet the house was full, and the receipts were equal to the best nights of that unfortunate seasonf. It may be a comfort, however, to all dramatic writers, to know that the receipts of a theatre have nothing to do with the matter in contract between them and the manager. As their bargain is in no way improved by the largeness of the receipts, so it is in no way impaired by their smallness. This is at least good equity and good common sense, and it was decided not many years ago to be good law, which is better than either, so far as material interests are concernedj. But, grant the argument that the receipts were low, and that, for that reason, the manager was justified in with- drawing the piece. What then? Did he withdraw it? No. He announced it for repetition over and over again, and never repeated it. Had he at once withdrawn it, on any pretence, I am not sure that, however unjust such a measure might have been, I should have had any remedy. This miserable pretext, therefore, about the receipts, goes for nothing. It might be a very good pretext, if it had any actual foundation in truth or usage; like the theory which makes the earth stand upon the back of a tortoise, and which might be a very good theory, if it * On the trial of Gregory, v. the Duke of Brunswick. t '* The house was full." M. Chronicle. " The house was excessively well filled." &m. " The author made a bow from a private box to a very full house." Weekly Dispatch. J Jerrold v. Morris. XX11 PREFACE. could only be shown that the tortoise itself had any thing to stand upon. I must do Mr. Bunn the justice to say that he did not seem to know exactly what it was I wanted him to do. He did not seem to be aware that it was necessary to do any thing. He seemed to expect that an overture of some kind should come from me ; and it did come from me at last, when all reasonable patience was fairly exhausted. It had begun, as the papers say, to furnish occupation for the " gentlemen of the long robe." Literature ought to stand clear of such associations as long as it can. But there are cases in which, for its own sake, it becomes necessary to appeal to sterner tribunals than those of taste or opinion. This was precisely such a case. I have a great horror of law but a still greater horror of injustice. My object was not to recover pecuniary damages from Mr. Bunn, but to vindicate the principle he had outraged. This vindication would have been complete in the re- production of the comedy, and its repetition for a few nights, simply to show that a play which was successful on its first representation is entitled to a longer trial and a further test. I gave this alternative to Mr. Bunn, and at last he embraced it ; but by a very remarkable coincidence, just as he agreed to re-produce the comedy, the theatre was suddenly shut up by the proprietors ! Nothing now remained but to remove it from " Common- Garden *' to the Common Pleas. While the necessary steps were taking for this purpose, I was informed that there was a prospect of one of the large houses coming into Mr. Bunn's hands in the winter that the pear was in fact ripening for him and that in such an event, he would at once bring out the comedy. I was very willing to abide PREFACE. XX111 the issue, and waited patiently. The pear ripened sure enough, and Mr. Bunn became lessee of Drury Lane. Now was the time for the redemption of his undertakin g But, unless it were to be set to music, or reduced to a ballet of action, there was no earthly visible means by which this play embracing only about ten characters could be Represented at the great national establishment, Where Garrick trod and Grisi lives to dance. Of course, all expectation was now at an end ; and Mr. Bunn, being unable to produce the comedy, which he professed himself exceedingly anxious to do, offered to make a statement to that effect, in which the principle I sought to establish should be clearly acknowledged ; con- firming this acknowledgment and submission by relin- quishing all claim upon the acting right in the comedy, and by paying, in addition to all the legal expenses incurred, a small sum towards the cost of publication. As I have a strong aversion to settling by law any matters that can be as effectually and more simply adjusted by reason, and as this statement explicitly grants the whole question at issue, so that the case can never be referred to hereafter as a pre- cedent to the injury of others, I made no hesitation in ac- cepting the proposed amende. I believe I have rendered better service to the interests of dramatic literature in ac- cepting this statement, than I could have done by making a hostile demonstration in a court of law, by which I might have obtained a larger personal indemnification, but with a less satisfactory admission of the general principle at stake. With this statement I bring the narrative to a conclusion, and take leave of the subject without further commentary. The only liberty I have used with Mr. Bunn's letter is the omission of two or three complimentary phrases, which shed PREFACE. a sort of opal light upon the transaction without making it a whit more clear. This letter was addressed to my solicitor. " Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. "Jan. 3, 1844. MY DEAR SIR, " Regretting, as I do, the disappointment created by the non-repetition of Mr. Bell's comedy of ' Mothers and Daughters/ I beg to repeat that it arose from no want of merit in the comedy itself (of which I entertain the same opinion I have ever expressed, that it is one of our best of modern comedies), but is entirely to be attributed to the crippled state of the theatre, and the impossibility of doing it justice by those means which previous failures had left in my hands. " The best opinion T can give you of Mr. Bell's comedy is, that I would have done it this season at Drury Lane, if I possessed a company capable of doing it justice. " I am most happy in putting an end to the litigation between Mr. Bell and myself, by the payment of 50 to- wards the expenses incurred by Mr. Bell in printing the comedy, as well as his legal expenses, and of ceding to him the entire right of representing that comedy. " I do this, not merely to express my sense of Mr. BelPs forbearance throughout all the unpleasantry which has arisen, but my highest appreciation of his gentlemanly con- duct, &c., &c. " If I knew how, either to Mr. Bell himself, or to the merits of his comedy, I could offer higher tribute, I would do so. " Yours, &c. " A. BUNN." J. Abbott, Esq., PREFACE. XXV For the civilities expressed in this letter, I hope I know how to be thankful ; but Mr. Bunn would have better gratified my ambition by acting the comedy. As it is, the Reader gracious and courteous, I hope, and benignant, even, after this peaceful settlement of a very belligerent affair is entreated to remember that the work he is here solicited to read was written with a direct view to the stage. This intention makes a material difference in the treatment a difference, indeed, so material, that it is ten to one whether a comedy designed expressly for re- presentation can afford much pleasure of a high kind in the closet. Under any circumstances, an English comedy ought to be received with reasonable indulgence. The attempt, always attended with great difficulties, is now more difficult than ever. Both the stage and the people are out of joint for this sort of production in its pure integrity. People are growing too carped with care too worldly too sectarian for the gauds of the playhouse. And you cannot carve Closet Comedies out of the maxims of political economy, doctrinal discussions, or the traditions of the Tract Societies. Be gentle, then, O Reader, with this comedy, which, in- tended for the Stage, is condemned to haunt the Earth for a time in the shape of a Book; receive it less for what it is than for what it might have been ; and, since Mr. Bunn would not act it, confer upon the author the immortal satis- faction of acting it yourself that is to say, mentally, not corporeally. He only laments that he cannot supply you, in addition to the Book, with a complete mental wardrobe, and a superb suite of intellectual interiors to help out the flattering illusion ! MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. ACT I. SCENE I. A magnificent apartment at LORD MERLIN'S. Various works of art scattered about. LOOP discovered at a table looking over some books of plates. LOOP. WELL, his lordship has taste. To be sure it may not be his own. A man with plenty of money can buy taste, just as he buys style. Enter TOM. TOM. Mr. Cushion, the upholsterer LOOP. Gently gently I am in no hurry. Well TOM. Well Mr. Cushion is below and wants to see you Mr. Loop. AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. ,',;;,;<;,<,";; ;,,''', LOOP. Too fast too fast now just go back, and deliver the message again. TOM. But Mr. Cushion is waiting below. LOOP. Quite right. Do you suppose I would see him the moment he's announced ? Now, then TOM. Mister Cushion, the upholsterer LOOP. You want dignity, Tom. Stand here and observe me. (Goes out and re-enters carelessly.) Mr. Cushion, the upholsterer, wishes to see you, sir. TOM. Let him wait. LOOP. Eh? TOM. You don't suppose Fd see the fellow the very moment he calls, do you ? LOOP. Very well ! ha ! Really Tom, you play the master better than the servant. TOM. So do you, Mr. Loop. It's far easier! But you wouldn't have me stand so, when Pm speaking to my lord, surely ? LOOP. Why not, Tom? Never grovel always look inde- pendent. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. TOM. Independent ! How does that stand to reason ? I'm only a servant. LOOP. Well? TOM. Well ! Pm dependant on my lord. LOOP. Simpleton ! my lord is dependant on you. A lord can do nothing for himself. He's a bundle of wants, that are supplied by his valet, his butler, his footman, and the rest of us. My philosophy is above you. Show Mr. Cushion up. Gently, Tom, gently. (Exit TOM,) Tom's a fool. Enter MR. GUSH ION followed by TOM. LOOP. You may go, Tom there, slowly ! [Exit TOM. Cushion, how d'ye do ? CUSHION. I hope you are very well, Mr. Loop. LOOP. Any thing fresh to-day, Cushion ? CUSHION. Business, Mr. Loop, as usual, is very low. LOOP. Ha ! good ! Business is always very low ! CUSHION. No money to be had anywhere. B 2 4 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. LOOP. What do people want with money ? Can't they live on credit ? CUSHION. Ah ! that's very well for the gentry, Mr. Loop ; but we who provide them must get money somehow. Here is a case in point. The splendour of this house is not exceeded in London furniture a la Louis quatorze stained glass- verde antique velvet screens two statues of Venus a bronze Apollo LOOP. That will do that will do CUSHION. I beg pardon, Mr. Loop ; I merely wished to say, that the outlay is very Jarge, and I have put the account in my pocket, hoping you will submit it to his lordship. LOOP. Cushion, I believe I introduced you to his lordship to furnish this house. CUSHION. You did, Mr. Loop. LOOP. Now, do you suppose I should have done so, if I had had the least suspicion that you would trouble his lordship with an account before it was called for ? CUSHION. Mr. Loop! LOOP. If the thing were known, you'd lose every customer you have in the world. It's fortunate it has happened with a friend like me ; otherwise you might have been paid your account, and ruined for life. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 5 CUSHION. But, then LOOP. Listen. You are aware that Lord Merlin has only just come into the title that he was only fourth, or fifth, cousin to the late lord, and never dreamt of such a piece of good luck. In one hour he was transformed from a sneaking private gentleman reading the newspapers to keep out of the way of expense, and dining a la carte at his club, into a peer of the realm, with 25,OGO/. a-year. CUSHION. Yes, Mr. Loop. LOOP. Now, do be silent, Cushion. Such a windfall at fifty or sixty years of age does not fall to a man every day. I saw the advantages of his lordship's position, and, through private interest, secured the post of confidence I enjoy. His lordship and I are inseparable. Having been a bachelor all his life, he has certain crude notions of the world, which it is my province to weed. Indeed, he has hitherto lived on so paltry an income that, without my help, he never could get through half his fortune. CUSHION. I believe it, Mr. Loop. LOOP. I can easily manage his '.lordship ; but Blount, his old man of all-work, who has lived with him all his life, and follows him like his shadow it is not so easy to manage him. Blount's an impracticable bear. CUSHION. Mr. Blount's a hard man, but very honest. 6 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. LOOP. Honest ! I shall begin to have a very small opinion of your understanding if you talk in that way. Honest ! Is it likely you'd be upholsterer to a lord had you been an honest man ? No you'd have been a second-hand dealer in broken chairs, camp-beds, and painted wash-hand stands. As to Blount, he'll never realize a farthing out of my lord, nor let any body else if he can help it. He's as accurate in his accounts as the dumb register at Waterloo- bridge, and is so incorrigibly conscientious, that I find it impossible to keep on gentlemanly terms with him. He's sadly in my way, that's the truth. You may leave your account, but I cannot submit it to his lordship at present. CUSHION. But I have bills to make up LOOP. They must wait. It's a curious coincidence that every tradesman I have had any thing to do with, has always had bills to make up. You and they must wait.* By the way, have you furnished that little villa for me on the river ? CUSHION. Every room; it's quite a bijou. LOOP (confidentially) . Is she perfectly satisfied with it ? CUSHION. She says if you were a lord, you could not have acted more handsomely. LOOP. What's the expense ? SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 7 CUSHION. Only ninety pounds, Mr. Loop. LOOP. Ninety pounds ! You said you'd charge me next to nothing. CUSHION. So I have. I've included it in my lord's bill under the head of sundries. LOOP. Only ninety pounds? It's too little. Make it a hundred, and call on Thursday. CUSHION. I'm greatly obliged, Mr. Loop. (Aside) The unblushing assurance of the puppy takes away my breath. (Going.) LOOP. Cushion ! the usual per centage, of course, is under- stood. CUSHION. Oh, certainly ! Good morning, Mr. Loop. I remain ever your debtor. (Aside) That puppy is a promising candidate for the Old Bailey. [Exit. LOOP. Cushion's an ass ! He remains my debtor ! Pm his debtor, and intend to continue so. LORD MERLIN (outside). Loop ! Blount ! LOOP. That's my lord. Old habits will break out ; he expects me to be in as great a hurry as he is himself. (Drawl- ingly) Yes, my lord. 8 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. LORD MERLIN (outside). Loop ! Blount ! (Entering) Is there nobody up yet ? What's the reason Fm not attended to ? LOOP. My lord. LORD MERLIN. My lord ! That's right. When I presume to call for any thing, I'm answered with my lord ! Yes, my lord ! but not a finger is stirred for all that. My fine gentleman deliberates over every movement lest he should disturb his tie, or the curve of his waistcoat. LOOP. My lord ! LORD MERLIN. There again ! I can't bear it ! I never was hot ; my blood is naturally cool, regular, calm ; but now my pulse is at ninety it boils and gallops and Loop ! (As LOOP is going to speak interrupts him.) Don't say, my lord ! I'm sick of it. I can buy a chorus of " my lords" for a shower of halfpence. Loop, you've a good berth here a capital berth ! I know many a gentleman ay, sir, men born and lapped in gentleness, who drudge hard by day and night, for less than you get here for doing nothing. Look to it. LOOP. I assure you, my lord. LORD MERLIN. You've too much assurance. Don't answer me. Get me my letters. LOOP (aside, going over to a table for the letters). His lordship's a hem ! SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTER?. LORD MERLIN. Any cards this morning 1 LOOP. No, my lord. LORD MERLIN. Order the carriage at two o'clock. LOOP. Tis already ordered at four, my lord. LORD MERLIN. Who ordered it at four ? LOOP. Mn Sandford, my lord. LORD MERLIN. Without consulting me ! He's the only friend I have who is not altered towards me since I jumped into a title. Some flatter me some are afraid of making too free. Bob's as impudent as ever ! He shall inherit every six- pence I have. The worst of it is he knows it ; and even that doesn't alter him. Ring the bell for Blount. Where's Mr. Sandford now ? LOOP. Engaged in a rowing- match, my lord. LORD MERLIN. A rowing-match ! How did he go ? LOOP. In one of Newman's drags, my lord. LORD MERLIN. Humph ! And not unlikely to come home by one of the Humane Society's. I hate water-parties ! 10 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. Enter TOM. LOOP. Tom, tell Mr. Blount, his lordship wishes to see him. [Exit TOM. LORD MERLIN. Bob does exactly what he likes, which is more than I can do, hedged in as I am by responsibilities of position. Position ! Commoners don't know how happy they ought to be. Loop, get me my brown coat. LOOP. My lord ! LORD MERLIN. Mm well? LOOP. It is impossible your lordship can wear either the colour or the cut. LORD MERLIN. Why so ? LOOP. Out of date ; besides, animated by a profound zeal in your lordship's service, I have put it out of the way. LORD MERLIN (aside). His profound zeal, I suspect, is on intimate terms with the Jews. Rascal ! Enter BLOUNT. Well, Blount, have you been to the sale ? BLOUNT. Yes. LORD MERLIN. Well, and bought the Greek Phoenix ? BLOUNT. No. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 11 LORD MERLIN. What do you mean, Blount ? BLOUNT. What do you want with a Greek Phoenix ? LORD MERLIN. The great sale at Cherry Hill the collection of virtii made by the late Lord Fillagree every body insisted on my purchasing the Greek Phrenix, the famous Greek Phoenix, it would look so well amongst my statues I send you to buy it at any price and you have the impu- denceis it sold ? BLOUNT. Yes. LORD MERLIN. Who bought it? BLOUNT. A fool. LORD MERLIN. Blount, you and I must separate. BLOUNT. No we shan't. LORD MERLIN. Upon what grounds do you presume to say so ? BLOUNT. Upon a faithful service of forty years. Enter SIR GREGORY PLUMP, shown in by TOM, who re- mains. LORD MERLIN. Gregory, you've just arrived in time to rescue me from a serious dilemma. I'm in a cleft stick between two ser- vants. This gentleman is animated by such profound zeal in my service, that he won't let me wear a brown coat ; 12 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. and this fellow, presuming upon forty years' fidelity, won't suffer me to buy Lord Fillagree's Greek Phoenix. This fellow is my man of business, and this, my man of plea- sure. It seems I am to have no will of my own between them ; a very pretty specimen of an unmarried nobleman's menage at five-and-fifty ! BLOUNT. Nothing more to say to me ? (LORD MERLIN turns away to speak to SIR GREGORY.) [Exit BLOUNT a short pause. LOOP (with an air of affectation). You may go, Tom. LORD MERLIN. So may you, sir. TOM (aside to LOOP as he is going out); Gently, Mr. Loop gently ! [Exeunt TOM and LOOP. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Well, if you're not the happiest of mankind, you're cer- tainly the most fortunate. LORD MERLIN. I suppose I must submit to be thought so. I hear they've already got up a sobriquet for me at the clubs. Now, Gregory, you've known me nearly fifty years what do you think they call me at the clubs ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I can't say. LORD MERLIN. Why they call me the fortunate youth ! SCENE L] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 13 SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Ha! ha! ha! LORD MERLIN. Ha! ha! Pleasant that ! Because I have unexpectedly inherited a title and estates. Gregory, the clubs are hot- beds of vanity, jealousy, and selfishness. I know them well. 1 have lived all my life in a club, and I never made a friend in it. I know five hundred faces intimately that I meet there every day but I never was able to detect an expression of sympathy in one of them. Men get hardened in clubs isolated and insincere, and learn to regard familiar faces with apathy, to the utter annihila- tion of the finest instincts of nature. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. There are exceptions, my friend ; yourself for example. LORD MERLIN. Perhaps. They haven't made me cold and venemous but they have made me look into myself, and know myself better. They have taught me to enjoy the world ; and I mean to enjoy it. I'm just going to begin life, Gregory. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Why just now you confessed to five-and-fifty. LORD MERLIN, What of that? I have a noble fortune; no less than 25,000/, per annum an estate in Buckingham and a title. These are the elements of the fashionable alchemy that enables age to put on the spring-tide airs of youth. Why, man, half the women will be running after me when I make my debut (with gaiety}. I'm only just coming out. 14 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. And will make as good a figure as the youngest of them only Pm afraid, between ourselves, that neither you nor I, can keep up the ball quite as merrily as we might, have done some twenty or thirty years ago. LORD MERLIN. Speak for yourself, Gregory. Perhaps you've hurt your constitution Pve taken care of mine. Pve been pent up on a scanty annuity, and had no vent for my animal spirits. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. So much the worse. You're not used to excitement, and a sudden plunge into gay life will disorganize you. LORD MERLIN. You never committed a greater mistake. My love of pleasure has been bottled up, and I'm only going to take out the cork. How my champagne nature will fly ! I've been a clubman all my life. I lived in the club ; the li- brary was my room it was inexpensive. I lived within myself it made me sullen. I nearly lost the use of my tongue. My utmost luxury was a white horse, and a livery- servant three hundred yards off, regulation distance on a fine day ! But that's over. I'm coming out, Gregory ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. And you have taken your nephew, Bob Sandford, to live with you altogether ? LORD MERLIN. Altogether. I hate solitude. I've had enough of it; Bob's a rattle-headed dog, with a fine spirit, an honest fellow. He'll help me to get through my fortune like a gentleman ; and he shall inherit my estate when I'm gone. SCENEL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 15 SIR GREGORY PLUMP. With such a prospect before him, I hope he will make a prudent settlement one of these days. LORD MERLIN. I hope he will do nothing of the kind. With such a prospect before him, he has no necessity for sordid calcu- lations ; I never knew a prudent settlement that didn't end in a break up. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. But he may make a foolish match. LORD MERLIN. He may make any match he pleases provided I ap- prove of it. Don't be afraid of Bob ; the young men of the present day, Gregory, are a hundred fold more knowing than they were in our time. Rely upon it, the world don't turn round for nothing. But how goes on your suit with the widow ? Any prospect of a prudent settlement there? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I hardly know. Lady Manifold is so uncertain in her humours, and so engrossed moreover with projects for getting her silly daughter off her hands, that I never can obtain on opportunity of bringing her to an understanding. The fact is, I'm an old fool to trouble my head about her. LORD MERLIN. But are you sure it's about her you trouble your head ? quite sure it's not her jointure ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Why, of course ; but jointures, you know, can only be wooed through widows. Ah, my lord, I'm not lucky like 16 MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT T. you. The women keep clear of me. It's notorious that the last contest for Fishborough has crippled my estate. Now, by and by, the whole sex will be looking out for you. LORD MERLIN. My dear fellow, they're beginning to nibble already ! and Lady Manifold herselfs in the front rank. Don't be alarmed. She wants to marry me to her daughter (for the sake of my fortune) with a reversionary interest in my nephew. For fear of accident she's ogling us both at the same time ; and I conscientiously believe she'd marry us both at the same time, if she could. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Well, and what will come of it ? LORD MERLIN. Nothing. By all accounts, for I have never seen her, the daughter's a half-simpleton. I have too much sense for her Bob has too much blood. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. You don't know Lady Manifold's talents for intrigue. If she fail with you, she may succeed with your nephew. LORD MERLIN. Pshaw ! She only furnishes us with amusement. Here's a letter inviting me to a rout for the 22d. She writes me a special note : " My dear Lord the happiness hum ! ever delight your sincere Georgina Manifold," a spe- cial note not a card such as she sends to every body else. Don't you suppose I can see through this, Gregory ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. All very well for a time ; but, with such opportunities, you'll marry in the long run. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 17 LORD MERLIN. Marry ! no not marry, Gregory. (Slightly affected, but overcoming his feelings.) The time is past I'm old there is rejuvenescence for every thing but the affections ! There is no second youth' of the affections ! I can enjoy the world as well as ever more wisely, cer- tainly ay, and as merrily as ever, Gregory, why not? but marry no ! one wants heart for that heart, heart, heart ! Come, come, talk of something else. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I have touched some old memory. LORD MERLIN. No no. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. If I could have imagined LORD MERLIN. Nonsense it's very foolish, Gregory, for old fellows like us to be talking about such things. [They retire up the stage. Enter SAND FORD, in a boating dress, with a letter in his hand. SANDFORD. Charming charming. The very thing I longed for, but did not dare to hope. That the old lady should invite me in so marked a manner. (Heading) "Dear Mr.. Sand- ford" oh! precious, delightful old woman "cannot do without you " " your sincere Georgina Manifold " and what a pretty name she has Georgina ! I wonder what my uncle would say if he knew this. 1 8 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i, LORD MERLIN (aside to SIR GREGORY, showing his letter). I wonder what my nephew would say if he knew this. SANDFORD. He hasn't the slightest notion of such a thing. LORD MERLIN (aside). You're wrong. Bob ; he has a very clear notion of it. SANDFORD. "Cannot do without you" nor I without you LORD MERLIN (aside). Damn it, he's not in love with the old woman ! SIR GREGORY (aside). I hope not. SANDFORD. The 22d. How long is it to the 22d. To touch her sweet hand again, and dream away an hour in her eyes ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP (aside). No, that can't be Lady Manifold. SANDFORD. To hear her voice again ! LORD MERLIN (aside). It must be her daughter. What fools these boys are, Gregory. SANDFORD. Such a delicious evening we shall have ! LORD MERLIN. Shall you ? The fellow is going to rival me in the girl's affections. I'll see. (Comes forward) Bob ! SCENE L] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 1 9 SANDFORD. Pshaw ! Why do you startle one so ? LORD MERLIN. Startle you, did I ? What were you reading just now ? SANDFORD. Reading ? was I reading ? LORD MERLIN. What was it ? SANDFORD. Oh ! a nothing ! LORD MERLIN. Nothing! Eh! Bob? SANDFORD. Uncle, you've no right to be curious. LORD MERLIN. Nephew, you've no right to be mysterious. It was a letter. SANDFORD. So it was. LORD MERLIN. You see, although I'm no conjurer, I can find out a secret. SANDFORD. No, you haven't found out the secret yet. LORD MERLIN. Yes, I have ; it was from Lady Manifold. SANDFORD. Well, so far you're right; but you never could guess what it's about c 2 20 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i, LORD MERLIN. Couldn't I ? SANDFORD. Never ! never ! LORD MERLIN. Her ladyship gives a rout on the 22d. SANDFORD. And Pve got an invitation. LORD MERLIN, And I've got another. (Shows their letters.) SANDFORD. You have ? LORD MERLIN. I have. But, Bob, you mustn't be in my way. If I catch you poaching SANDFORD. But, uncle, you're not serious ? LORD MERLIN. Why not, sir ? my friend Sir Gregory Plump and I have monopolised the ladies between us, eh ! Gregory ? and if you interfere with either one or the other of them, you must make up your mind to the consequences. SANDFORD. Sir Gregory, is my uncle really in earnest ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Perfectly in earnest, Mr. Sandford. I have undertaken to relieve your uncle from the old lady, that he may have more leisure for the young one. SCENEL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 21 SANDFORD. The young one ? What young one ? LORD MERLIN. What young one ? Pray, sir, is that the way you speak of the mesmeric divinity whose eyes are to set you dream- ing by the hour together ? Dreaming ! Eyes had a dif- ferent sort of magnetism in our day, Gregory. SANDFORD. Well, I acknowledge, I did rhapsodize a little ; but you must confess, uncle, it was not fair to listen. LORD MERLiN. Every thing is fair in love, Bob. SANDFORD. Love ! what does your lordship mean ? LORD MERLIN. That if you attempt to attract the affections of Miss Manifold by any of your rhapsodies, Pll break with you for ever. SANDFORD (tXultmgty). Is that all ? LORD MERLIN. That's all. SANDFORD. Then, my dear uncle, I pledge you my honour I never will ; and there's my hand on it. LORD MERLIN. You're an honest fellow. Didn't I tell you, Gregory, he had too much blood for her ? Why of the two, Bob, I'd rather you'd marry the old woman herself. 22 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Why, my lord, don't you see that's exactly what he in- tends ? LO;RD MERLIN. Pooh! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Pooh ! But I tell you it is. He's in ecstasies about one of them that's clear. It isn't the daughter who then do you suppose it to be ? LORD MERLIN. The inference is unanswerable, I admit. But I don't believe it. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I'll put it beyond doubt. Mr. Sandford ! SANDFORD. Sir Gregory Plump ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. In one word sir, have you any design upon Lady Manifold? SANDFORD. Lady Manifold ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Yes, sir, Lady Manifold. SANDFORD. Lady Manifold ! ha I ha ! ha ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. He's laughing at me. LORD MERLIN. I thought he would . SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 23 SANDFORD. Excuse me for laughing, Sir Gregory, but the idea design ! ha ! ha ! ha ! no ! no ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Why to be sure, it was very ridiculous. SANDFORD. You may make your mind easy, Sir Gregory. I don't think you have a rival in the world. Her ladyship is too clever to attract admirers. The men are afraid of her talents ; and if you really mean to prosecute your suit, your motto must be nil disperandum. LORD MERLIN. You may take Bob's word, Gregory, for the state of affairs. He's a regular visiter at her ladyship's. By the way, perhaps you can tell us something about the daughter also. SANDFORD. Oh ! she's a mere doll. Her mother has managed to keep her so completely out of the way of society lest she might make a false step ! that now she's out, she's ready to devour every man she meets. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Or to be devoured by the first roaring lover who comes in her way. She has the airs of the boarding-school, with- out its discipline. If she had high romping spirits one might put up with her; but she's a poor die-away lacka- daisical moppet, without a particle of sense or feeling. LORD MERLIN. But, having the reputation of a fortune, I wonder some greedy needy hanger-on doesn't snap her up. A hungry 24 . MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT i. devil who wasn't very nice might swallow her, affectation and all. Her money would make her go down palatably. SANDFORD. If I don't mistake there's a wolf's mouth open for the lamb already. I hear of a Captain Montague, a swagger- ing half-pay, as poor as a rat and as impudent as a beadle, who is on her trail night, noon, and morning. Lady Manifold has effectually scared off every body else, but hasn't a suspicion of the captain. LORD MERLIN. I hope he'll outwit her. I wish every manoeuvring mo- ther in the kingdom had a keen-witted fortune-hunter at her heels, to undo in the night the machinations her ma- ternal genius had woven in the morning. Come, Gregory, you'll dine with me to-day, and we'll settle our plans over a glass of Burgundy. At our period of life, Gregory, when a man resolves upon a career of pleasure, he cannot afford to throw away a moment. Come along. [Exit with GREGORY. SANDFORD. He has not the least suspicion. I am glad of it. Yet why should I be afraid to avow my attachment for Mabel ? He is so frank and generous to me ! I am sure he would be proud of Mabel, if he knew her. But stay, Master Bob you're making rather a premature reckoning. Are you quite sure that Mabel will have you ? I never thought of that ! It never entered my wise head that Mabel might possibly refuse me. No ! that's impossible. But wouldn't it be just as well to ascertain the state of her feelings, be- fore I run any risks with my uncle ? I'll do it I'll do it SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 25 LORD MERLIN (outside). Bob! SANDFORD. Yes, my lord I'll go to her at once LORD MERLIN (outside).* Bob I say SANDFORD. I'm coming, my dear uncle It's a matter of life and death; I'll order the carriage instantly and be off. (Rings the bell.) Tom ! LORD MERLIN (outside). Bob! SANDFORD. Coming, my lord Tom ! Remember the old proverb, cups and lips lips ! her lips ! damme, I'm gone. Tom ! [Exit at the opposite side. LORD MERLIN (outside}. Bob! (Bell rings at both sides. The curtain drops.) END OF ACT I, 26 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT n. ACT II SCENE I. Drawing-room, opening upon a suite of rooms lighted beyond, at Lady MANIFOLD'S. ROSE peeps in from the back. ROSE. Miss Miss Emily there's nobody here. Come in, miss it's like one desert vast with idle ancles, as Othello says. Don't be afraid, miss. Enter EMILY MANIFOLD, timidly, with sidelong looks. EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! Rose, how my heart palpitates. ROSE. Well, miss, it was made to palpitate. La ! it's as natural as possible. I only wish Captain Montague could see you now, miss ; you do look so very languishing. EMILY MANIFOLD. Do you really think he loves me, Rose ? ROSE. Oh ! miss : love's not the word. It's fiery flames in- toxicating delirium did you ever read the "Tears of Sensibility," miss ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Never, Rose. ROSE. You ought, miss. It's very necessary. I should never SCENE I.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 2? have known what love was, but for the "Tears of Sen- sibility," miss. EMILY MANIFOLD. But the captain, Rose. Didn't he give you a letter for me ? ROSE. He did, miss. But my lady EMILY MANIFOLD. My mother ROSE. Found it on my table. EMILY MANIFOLD. Then every thing is discovered. ROSE. Oh ! you are very simple, miss, begging your pardon. You don't suppose the captain wrote your name on it. No. It was addressed to the " Angel of my Life !" Now, my lady may think she's the angel of his life, if she pleases, and no harm done. EMILY MANIFOLD. Heigho ! Pm not only likely to lose the man I love, but may be compelled to accept some wretch I loathe. ROSE. It's absolute weakness in mothers not to know that the man of their choice must naturally be odious to their daughters. EMILY MANIFOLD. There's Lord Merlin he's the last fancy of my mother's : she supposes that because he's a peer, and has a fine fortune, I should be the happiest of wives. But, oh ! Rose, what are titles and wealth compared to love ? 28 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT n- ROSE. Nothing, miss. You must write to the captain. EMILY MANIFOLD. Write to the captain! What would he think of my delicacy ? ROSE. Oh ! miss, when one's in love they musn't stand upon their delicacy. Look here, miss, I have written a letter to the object of my affections ! Obdurate Cupid he's insensible to my pangs he's such a fine gentleman, miss. If you won't betray my confiding nature, miss, I'll reveal who he is. EMILY MANIFOLD. Well ROSE. He is Mr. Loop, miss confidential secretary to Lord Merlin. Thousands pass through his hands every day. Shall I read it, miss ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Do, Rose. ROSE (reads). te Dearest, dearest, nameless one ! I am the most miser- able of women. I know what separates me from you not space or time, but some rival ! I have told your for- tune by the cards night after night. The cards tell me you are inclined to make an offer to a dark young woman. There is something about a child I can't make out. You talked to her recently ; she has money. Star of my night, I know your sentiments by the cards. Come to me soon. There is not a joy to charm unless shared with thee,nor is it in fate to harm me, if fate will only leave me thy love. I see thee riot I hear thee not yet am present with thee, SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 29 albeit my brow thou shouldst never more behold. I should very much like to be mistress of an hotel. It is the only business I shall ever take up with. Believe me fit for it, dearest. Thine. Thyrza!" EMILY MANIFOLD. Thyrza ! that's not your name. ROSE. No, sure. I got it out of the "Tears of Sensibility." La ! Miss there's your honoured mother ! If she sees us together I'll run this way you go that way. [She runs off. Enter LADY MANIFOLD at the back, meeting EMILY as she is going out. LADY MANIFOLD. Well, my dear, where are you running in such a hurry ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Was I in a hurry, ma ? LADY MANIFOLD. Don't be so scared, my dear. I declare one . would fancy that you had been doing some mischief in a corner, child, you have such a frightened look. I have been inquiring for you, Emily. I've got something very serious to say to you. EMILY MANIFOLD (aside). Oh! dear. LADY MANIFOLD. Chairs, child (Emily draws over chairs). You know, Emily, that ever since you were twenty-one don't fidget so with your fingers I have thought it right, child, to 30 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT n consider your settlement in life, love, as the principal business do, put away that tassel I may safely say that I have thought of scarcely any thing else. EMILY MANIFOLD. Nor I neither, ma ! LADY MANIFOLD. That's not pretty, love. You've no business to think about such things. EMILY MANIFOLD. But, ma LADY MANIFOLD. Be silent, child. I know best what's for your welfare. My anxiety to secure you a good match has rendered me so cautious and circumspect, that EMILY MANIFOLD. I have not had a single offer. LADY MANIFOLD. You talk like a simpleton. You don't suppose that the people I encourage would venture to propose for you with- out my approbation. No, child ; I am resolved that your youth and simplicity shall have all the advantage in the choice of a husband which they can derive from my obser- vation and experience. EMILY MANIFOLD. But, ma, as my youth and simplicity have derived so little advantage from your experience , isn't it almost time that I should begin to look. out for myself. LADY MANIFOLD. Mercy upon me, Emily ; I never heard you make use SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 31 of such an expression before. Have you been reading any naughty books, child ? Look out for yourself ! Do you know what you are saying, love ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! yes. LADY MANIFOLD. Indeed you do not. You've got some crotchet into your head, and the sooner you get it out of your head the better. The idea of a young lady looking out for herself ! Such innocence ! My dear, I have brought you up so carefully, that you are quite ignorant of the world. Happy ig- norance ! You haven't a notion of the foolish things some girls of your age get thinking of love and nonsense. EMILY MANIFOLD (aside). You're very much mistaken, though. LADY MANIFOLD. I was always against boarding-schools on that account, I preferred the domestic system ; and it was for that reason, love, I admitted Mabel Trevor into my house. She is really, I believe, a very harmless creature, and makes an excellent sort of humble companion. EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! she is very good. LADY MANIFOLD. Now, my dear, do you know why I've given this rout this evening ? * EMILY MANIFOLD. I'm sure I don't know, unless it's because you like it. 32 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT u. LADY MANIFOLD. Well, that's an ingenuous answer at all events. I expect Lord Merlin, and his nephew, Mr. Sandford, here. My dear Emily, you don't know what sacrifices I have made to produce an effect upon his lordship. That is a very hand- some dress, and the colour suits your complexion sweetly ; but hasn't Fleury been here with the wreath ? EMILY MANIFOLD. No. She's a provoking wretch. I never would deal with her again. LADY MANIFOLD. You only want a dash of rich flowers at this side in your hair to make you perfect. Be sure to attend to it before Lord Merlin comes. You really look quite captivating, love. EMILY MANIFOLD. Do I ? Will Captain Montague be here ? LADY MANIFOLD. Captain Montague ! Pooh ! child. Poor Montague ; that's all because he acts charades with you. How easily my innocent Emily is amused. Don't mind the Captain dear. Think of Lord Merlin, and his 25,000/. a-year. What would I have given for such a chance at your age. Now, mark : look at him always when he's not looking at you, and then, the moment he turns and sees you,, drop your eyes and look confused. EMILY MANIFOLD. Qh ! I know. LADY MANIFOLD. Don't be too eager to reply to him when he speaks to SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 33 you; and the less you say the better, lest you might commit yourself. Indeed, it's a prudent rule for a woman to trust every thing to her eyes, and nothing to her tongue. I found it answer most successfully. EMILY MANIFOLD. But, suppose he doesn't take any notice of me, may I talk to Captain Montague then, ma ? LADY MANIFOLD. Oh ! you may talk as much as you please to Montague. That's quite safe. Upon second thoughts, it would be an excellent plan to play off the hectoring captain against the polished aristocrat. His lordship might be piqued by your attention to a man so much his inferior in rank and fortune. EMILY MANIFOLD. I'm sure, ma, I'll do all in my power to pique him. LADY MANIFOLD (rising). And in any case, my dear, there is Mr. Sandford ; he is to inherit every farthing of his lordship's wealth, and who knows but, should we miss the uncle, we may bring down the nephew. It's all the same, so far as the property is concerned ; and Mr. Sandford has at least the advantage of being a few years younger. Now, run away, and put in the flowers. I see the company is arriving. [Going up. EMILY MANIFOLD. And may I try to pique Mr. Sandford too, ma ? LADY MANIFOLD. Oh ! certainly, love ! What an innocent child it is ! [Exit at the back. 34 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT u. EMILY MANIFOLD. I'll take you at your word, you may depend upon it, my good mama ! Oh ! Montague, wherefore art thou Mon- tague ! or why art thou only a captain ? MONTAGUE (who has just entered at the side). For thy sake, dearest, I would be a lord if I could. But what is a lord? I'm richer than any lord in England. EMILY MANIFOLD. You are ? Then ma will (stops herself suddenly). MONTAGUE. Am I not richer in thy love than a thousand Merlins ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! Montague You overheard me. MONTAGUE. I overheard only the beating of your heart. But T. could hear that, if a mountain divided us, by the responsive ticking of my own. I know every thought that passes in your mind. How can it be otherwise when I am per- petually thinking of you ? Love is a species of intuition that produces an incommunicable sympathy between two people predestined by nature for each other. I knew my fate the first moment I saw you ; and it would have been just the same if I had never seen you. In the latter case, I must have gone about the world like the moiety of a human soul in search of my other half. EMILY MANIFOLD. Thatwould have been charming. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 35 MONTAGUE. But the reality is better than the dream. You are mine already, by all the unspoken pledges in your eyes. You must be mine by a licence. When shall I have a carriage- and-four early in the morning at the corner of Hertford- street ? EMILY MANIFOLD. I am generally up about ten. MONTAGUE. But the whole town is up then EMILY MANIFOLD. Hush ! Ma is determined I shall be married to Lord Merlin. MONTAGUE. And I'm determined you shall not. EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! that's beautiful ! He's to be here to-night. MONTAGUE. Ill sup on him ! EMILY MANIFOLD. Delightful ! But ma says that I may talk as much as I please to you to pique him. MONTAGUE. She does? EMILY MANIFOLD. She doesn't mind you, she says. She thinks you're quite safe ; and she says it would be an excellent plan to play you off against his lordship. D 2 36 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT. n MONTAGUE. Did she say all this ? Then I'll be played off to some purpose ; I'll pop her into my " Life and Times." EMILY MANIFOLD. Your " Life and Times." Gracious ! MONTAGUE. Didn't you know I was writing my " Life and Times" ? I put every body into it that does any thing out of the way. EMILY MANIFOLD. But ma shan't thwart me, I'm determined. I'll have you and nobody else. With thee content, I ask no more ; I want not lands, nor golden store, Nor furnished palaces oh ! Jove, Give me but naked walls and love ! MONTAGUE. You're a divinity. (Aside) Lucky she likes naked walls. EMILY MANIFOLD. Here she is. I'll stay with you the whole evening. [Runs over and takes MONTAGUE'S arm. Enter LADY MANIFOLD. LADY MANIFOLD. Ha ! Montague, are you come ? Emily, child, what are you doing there ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Only practising, ma LADY MANIFOLD. Practising, my love ? SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 37 EMILY MANIFOLD. Why, ma, you told me to play off Captain Montague against Lord Merlin, and so I'm getting the captain to re- hearse with me a little before we go into the ball-room that's all LADY MANIFOLD. Emily, I'm astonished. How can you be so very ab- surd. I really believe you think it's one of your acted charades you're getting up. EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! not at all. I'm quite in earnest. LADY MANIFOLD. Captain, you are a man of the world, and will readily understand MONTAGUE. Oh ! perfectly, madam. LADY MANIFOLD. My daughter's fortune is not quite a plum ; (laughing) and so good a match, you know, captain, ought not to be allowed to slip through one's fingers. MONTAGUE. Certainly not. And, in short, you wish to hasten it by seeming to throw a little impediment in the way ? LADY MANIFOLD. Why not exactly that ; but, since my daughter has let you into our little family secrets, I can have no hesitation in saying, that it would be no harm if it appeared that she had other admirers just to touch his lordship's vanity for you know when a man arrives at a certain age he is 38 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT n. not capable of being actually in love with any woman ; but there is no age at which he ceases to be in love with him- self. You can appreciate the anxiety of a mother about the happiness of an only daughter. Just flirt a little in your own goodnatured way. You know you're an univer- sal flirt, Montague. MONTAGUE. Your ladyship is the very genius of intrigue. I'll do it with alacrity make love to your daughter before your face, and throw Lord Merlin over the bannisters if he utters a syllable. LADY MANIFOLD. There's his lordship in the next room. I must receive him. Now, my love, run and get ready. Montague, will you remain here till I return ? [EMILY goes out at the side, LADY MANIFOLD at the back. MONTAGUE. 'Pon my life, I'm in a very agreeable predicament. But it's tolerably clear, I have the best of the dilemma. Her ladyship has thought proper to place me in a danger- ous and rather equivocal relationship with her daughter, and she has no right to blame .me for the consequences. Her daughter has thought proper to let me make love to her in downright reality, and has no right to blame me for the consequences either. I am, consequently, free from all blame between them. I'll pop them both into my " Life and Times." Emily shall be the heroine portrait in the second volume. EMILY MANIFOLD (peeping out at the side, fastening a wreath of flowers in her hair}. Captain, remember it's for you I'm putting the flowers in my hair not for Lord Merlin. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 39 MONTAGUE. Flower of Paradise they're coming. [EMILY disappears ; LADY MANIFOLD, LORD MERLIN SIR GREGORY PLUMP, and MR. SANDFOUD come down the stage. LADY MANIFOLD. Your lordship argues with such consummate art, that you almost convince my judgment against the evidence of my senses. LORD MERLIN. And why not, my lady ? Your senses are not infallible but your ladyship's judgment is (aside) ahem ! LADY MANIFOLD. In this instance, at least, since it bows implicitly to your lordship. LORD MERLIN. Oh ! (Aside) A nibble, Gregory ! LADY MANIFOLD. How d'ye do again, Montague 1 My lord, Captain Mon- tague Lord Merlin, Sir Gregory Plump, Mr. Sandford. There now, entertain each other for five minutes. I have to chaperon my timid daughter into the drawing-room. You would hardly believe it, my lord, but she is such an inartificial and sensitive creature, that I am obliged to be constantly at her side in public. Isn't she, Montague ? MONTAGUE. Remarkably so, your ladyship. LADY MANIFOLD. You would scarcely believe that of my daughter ? 40 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT n. LORD MERLIN. Never should have suspected it, madam. LADY MANIFOLD. To sure this is only her first season. She was piesented on Wednesday. But she is so natural so unadulterated. Ah ! my lord, he will be a happy man who gets her for a wife. [Exit. LORD MERLIN. Pretty plain that, Gregory. MONTAGUE. Hem ! my lord enchanted to make your lordship's acquaintance. Often heard of you extraordinary luck! Fortunate youth ! Happy to know your friends, too ; Sir Gregory Plump your nephew, Mr. Sandford. All un- married, I believe. Looking out for wives eh ? So am I. Three characters! I'll pop you into my " Life and Times." LORD MERLIN, Sir I haven't the honour MONTAGUE. No matter Pm writing my life "Life and Times" Swinford Hastings Montague Reminiscences Anec- dotes. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Has any thing very extraordinary happened to you that you should write your life ? MONTAGUE. No nothing. LORD MERLIN. No battles no adventures ? Hare you run away with any body's wife ? SCENE I.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 41 MONTAGUE. No ; my life is singularly destitute of incidents. It has been passed principally between the end of Regent-street and Hyde-park-corner. But I am constantly upon town, and pick up all sorts of intelligence. Being an idle man, I'm at all the private views have the entree behind the scenes at the theatres am intimate with most of the noted people keep a journal note down at night every thing I hear through the day. LORD MERLIN. And you think yourself quite justified in publishing to the world every careless observation you chance to CT iv. ROSE. And you pollute it with lucre. Take back the gold. LOOP. With the greatest pleasure. ROSE. She looks it. She has such a way with her lips always biting them ! And Mr. Sandford's the man. LOOP. Sandford's a dolt. I can't make head or tail of him. Marriage is out of the question, you know. The girl hasn't as much coin as would turn the empty scale of a post-office balance. ROSE. And do you think there's any thing wrong between them? LOOP. Can't say, really. I suppose something has happened, for he was like a rag in a high wind this morning. But the letter's a settler, I fancy. Observe, you're to insist upon her taking it, whether she likes it or not. ROSE. Dear me, I wonder what's in it ! (trying to peep into it.) What a sly thing she is ! Why, she looks as demure as a post, and may be, for all we know, she is 1 de- clare, there she is coming down the stairs. Don't let her see you in my room, or she'll think I'm as bad as her- self. LOOP. Insist upon her taking it. SCENE H.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 83 ROSE. Go, deceiver, go ! LOOP. You must positively sup with me some night in my country box. Good-by, child. (Aside) Rose is a vic- tim. Good-by adieu ! [Exit 9 ROSE. Sup with him and that's all. I'm a living warning to all young maidens, how they give up their juvenile affec- tions. [Ejcit. SCENE II. Drawing-room at LADY MANTFOLD'S. Enter LADY MANI- FOLD at the back, followed by SIR GREGORY PLUMP. LADY MANIFOLD. Your declaration astonishes me, Sir Gregory. Fm not offended, but at my time of life although I'm not exactly oldsuch subjects are generally treated historically. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. At your time of life, your ladyship, they are generally treated with the seriousness they deserve. Younger people may affect transports we understand them. LADY MANIFOLD. Well, how that may be, I won't venture to say : but such a serious question requires time SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Which neither of us have to spare. Now, just con- G 2 84 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT iv. sider Lady Manifold your situation and mine. What are we living for ? The world ? The world does not care a pinch of snuff for us. It's all very well in company but when we're alone ! Think of that. We want a little comfort somebody to tease, somebody to please, some- body to take the chill off our lives. LADY MANIFOLD. Don't you think, Sir Gregory, you have found out the necessity of taking the chill off, as you call it, rather late ? Ten or fifteen years ago SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Your husband was alive. LADY MANIFOLD. But there were a hundred ladies of your acquaintance who had no husband. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Yes but there was only one Lady Manifold. LADY MANIFOLD. Now, don't put on such a piece of affectation. You surely did not entertain any such foolish notions in poor Sir Richard's lifetime. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Such notions might have been very foolish then but you'll admit they are very rational now. Besides, im- pressions are fleeting in one's youth ; but at my age they take deeper root. You wouldn't break my heart, would you? LADY MANIFOLD. Oh ! not for the world. At your age I suspect hearts SCENE IL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 85 are not so very easily broken. The difficulty is to know how to get at them, old or young. Seriously SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Well; seriously. LADY MANIFOLD. Well, seriously ha ! ha ! ha ! I beg your pardon. I'm highly complimented and all that. But ha ! ha ! ha ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. But? LADY MANIFOLD. Butbut SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I'll fill up the but you won't marry till you've settled your daughter. LADY MANIFOLD. Undoubtedly, that is one consideration. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Now if I were her father-in-law, I might Lord Merlin is my intimate friend. LADY MANIFOLD. So he is. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. He takes an interest in her settlement, and mine too. LADY MANIFOLD. His lordship is very obliging. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I am aware of your anxiety to make him your son- in- law, and the plans you have laid for that purpose. LADY MANIFOLD. Plans, Sir Gregory ? 86 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT iv. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Come, let us be confidential. You don't suppose I blame you for desiring so good a match for your daughter ? Not at all. LADY MANIFOLD. But who told you this ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Captain Montague. He told it to Lord Merlin also. It's no longer a secret. LADY MANIFOLD. You shock me ! Montague's a viper* SIR GREGORY PLUMP, I have, certainly, no right to interfere ; and if I didn't happen to be acquainted with other matters that are going forward, without your knowledge, respecting your daugh- ter LADY MANIFOLD. Other matters ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP. I don't think I should have taken the liberty LADY MANIFOLD. Liberty ! my dear Sir Gregory, how can you use such a word you've done me the greatest kindness go on. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Perhaps I ought not to go any farther. I am a mere friend like any body else, and family affairs are family affairs. But feeling towards your ladyship as I do, I con- fess, if I had any hope LADY MANIFOLD. My dear Sir Gregory, I always had a sincere regard SCENE IL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 8? for you indeed, I might use a stronger term. The truth is, if my daughter were married, I don't hesitate to say I should be rather lonely ; and as you were observing just now, one does want somebody to tease, and, in short, I think, if my daughter were married, I should have no great objection SIB GREGORY PLUMP. To get married yourself. Let me kiss your hand upon it, and command me for life. LADY MANIFOLD. Well there's my hand. SIR GREGORY PLUMP (klSSlUg it). And seal. LADY MANIFOLD. One would think you were putting the family coat of arms on it by the pressure of the stamp. Now, my dear Sir Gregory, you will conceal nothing from me ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP* Well, then, don't do any thing rash. Montague is in love with Emily. LADY MANIFOLD. Mon Mon in love I'll choke ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. More than that he intends to run away with her. (Aside) The murder's out. LADY MANIFOLD. Run away with her ! A grub of a half-pay lieutenant run away with my daughter. I should have suspected him of running away with some of my silver spoons sooner. I'll have him transported. 88 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT iv. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. There I was afraid you'd be hasty. We must act with discretion. LADY MANIFOLD. There's no discretion in the case, Sir Gregory ; my inno- cent child, that knows nothing of the world, to be tre- panned into an elopement with an adventurer. To think that she should be unconsciously standing on the edge of such a precipice ! Discretion, indeed ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. My dear madam, you must be calm. Lord Merlin treats the business with contempt, and it is not wise in you to take it up so seriously. LADY MANIFOLD. Perhaps you are right. To be sure, although it's very provoking, people in our station ought not to be ruffled by such earthworms. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. His lordship and Miss Manifold are coming this way. Just laugh at it, good-humouredly. LADY MANIFOLD. Well well. I'll carry it off as well as I can. (Enter LORD MERLIN and EMILY.) My dear lord, I'm charmed to see you. I hope Emily has been trying to amuse you. What a flush you're in, love ! His lordship has been paying you one of his fine compliments that's it ! Have you been showing him your drawings ? She has a wonder- ful talent that way, hasn't she? (Aside to EMILY) Say that you never got a lesson. SCENE IL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 89 EMILY MANIFOLD. You know, ma, I never got a lesson. LADY MANIFOLD. Never, I declare. We were afraid it would spoil her genius. Apropos, you've heard all about Montague, and his designs upon Emily ? LORD MERLIN. From his own lips. LADY MANIFOLD. Isn't it irresistibly ridiculous ? One can't be too careful in admitting such people to one's house; but we had him only to amuse us, and thought no more of him than we should of a monkey or a parrot did we, love ? I'm sure neither my daughter nor myself ever dreamt of his falling in love ! Such a thing could never have entered my head in a thousand years ! Poor wretch only think of his being in love with her ! and actually having the audacity to scheme a run- away match. LORD MERLIN. His audacity is undeniable. LADY MANIFOLD. Of course, we must never admit him into the house again. Of course not. I couldn't bear to do any thing positively cruel to him; for after all, you know, he couldn't help admiring her; but we can never countenance him any more. If you should ever meet him by any accident, child, you'll know what to do. EMILY MANIFOLD. Yes, ma I'll know what to do. 90 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT iv. LADY MANIFOLD. You may depend upon it, my lord, she'll teach him to run away with young ladies of family won't you, love ? EMILY MANIFOLD. That I will, ma! LADY MANIFOLD. Will you follow us, my lord, into the conservatory. Don't let us interrupt your tete-a-tete. I want you, Sir Gregory, to look at my orange-trees. (Aside to SIR GRE- GORY as they go off ) Was that thrown off well ? SIR GREGORY PLUMP, It was perfect. [Exit LADY MANIFOLD and SIR GREGORY. LORD MERLIN. You hear what your mother says about the captain ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Yes, but I don't heed it. If she's so against my marry- ing him, why did she encourage him here so much. LORD MERLIN. There's a great deal of sound sense in that. Moral Mothers who expose their daughters to indiscriminate as- sociations must take the consequences. [ROSE peeps in at the side, with a bonnet and shawl in her hand. ROSE. Miss Emily ! hist ! Miss Emily EMILY MANIFOLD. Well, Rose what's the matter ? SCENE ii.] MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. 91 ROSE. I beg pardon I didn't know any one was here I mustn't speak before his lordship. EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! yes, you may. What is it ? ROSE. There, miss, the captain is waiting for you in the square he has put me into such a fidget ! there he is, walking up and down under the trees, and beating his boots with a whip, so that you'd think he cut them to pieces he's in a furious hurry so I brought your bonnet and shawl don't lose a minute, miss EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! mercy make haste there (putting on the shawl jlurriedly the wrong way] there's a spell upon the shawl, I do believe where's my boa ? ROSE. Oh ! don't mind the boa EMILY MANIFOLD. My gloves ? ROSE. Oh ! don't mind your gloves, miss go as your are if my lady should come EMILY MANIFOLD. That will do, Rose there thank youoh ! dear how my heart beats good-by, my lord Pm sorry I can't stay to amuse your lordship good-by ! [Exit. ROSE. Run run, miss. [Exit. 92 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT. iv LORD MERLIN. Eloped ! I'd better go. If they catch me here, they'll make me particeps criminis! (As he is going, MABEL enters at the opposite side.) MABEL TREVOR. My lord LORD MERLIN. Miss Trevor ! MABEL TREVOR. Pardon this intrusion. Can your lordship grant me a few minutes private conversation ? LORD MERLIN. As many as you please. MABEL TREVOR. I am anxious to to just now, I was quite brave in my resolution to seek this interview, but now it has come I falter and tremble. LORD MERLIN. Be seated. (Hands chairs.) Take your own time. MABEL TREVOR. You may judge, from my situation here, that I am friendless. It was not always thus. I had a friend once my mother ! my dear, dear mother ! LORD MERLIN. Poor thing ! and your mother she is dead ? I see. MABEL TREVOR. It is not false pride makes me say that my birth was superior to the humble circumstances in which I am placed. SCENE IT.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 93 My mother might have no matter! She made a foolish marriage, and her family renounced her. The punishment was bitter for such a fault. Widowhood followed speedily, and she was destitute. Hopeless for herself, she struggled to live for her child. The change was great from luxury to want it preyed upon her sensitive frame it killed her ! LORD MERLIN. Come you must not dwell on these melancholy recol- lections. MABEL TREVOR. It does me good to think of my mother it strengthens me in all virtuous resolves she loved me so tenderly. The only pure love I ever knew in this selfish world. LORD MERLIN. And when she died, necessity forced you to accept Lady Manifold's protection ? MABEL TREVOR. Lady Manifold knew my mother and her history. She received me as companion to her daughter. Companion ! LORD MERLIN. I understand she treats you with harshness. MABEL TREVOR. You cannot understand the icy coldness with which de- pendants are sometimes treated in a great house, as if they belonged to a lower nature, and possessed neither intellr gence nor feeling the atmosphere of stately stillness through which the poor companion -creeps like a guilty creature ! That is dreadful ! She did not treat me with harshness, she harrowed me with freezing smiles that never suffered me to forget I was a dependant. Oh f 94 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACTIV. my lord, you cannot understand that you, basking in the sunshine of rank and station and how J have striven to subdue my spirit, feeling that in my veins ran blood as proud as theirs. LORD MERLIN. I understand your feelings. You desire my assistance. MABEL TREVOR. No no not that ! I am coming to my purpose. But it requires an effort it is so strange to speak of such things. I had the misfortune, in these unpropitious cir- cumstances, to attract the regards of one who was born to fortune and honours. With the heedless ardour of youth, he seemed unconscious of the gulf that separated us. I was not my woman's instinct detected his love, before he gave it utterance, and, with it, the peril of its indulgence. He was an heir to wealth and titles I was poor ; I felt the difference of our states, and retreated from his eloquent gaze, which still followed me, even into solitude, where, I may say it now, his name, loaded with wishes for a worthier destiny, often mingled with my prayers ! LORD MERLIN. Well he avowed his love, at last ? What was his for- tune weighed against his happiness ? MABEL TREVOR. I pointed out the folly, the madness of so unequal an alliance. I appealed to his reason his ambition ; but he saw my heart trembling through the sophistry and and I consented to become his wife. LORD MERLIN. With dispositions like yours, a prince might be proud of such a wife. SCENE IL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 95 MABEL, TREVOR. He had a noble kinsman upon whom all his expect- ations depended. That kinsman, it appeared, had other views for his settlement in life high connexions, aris- tocracy, and wealth. These were the conditions of his patronage, and disinheritance would have been the con- sequence of our union. What should he, who stood in this extremity, have done ? LORD MERLIN. Kept his faith with you, like a man of honour. His in- tegrity would have extorted respect, even from his heartless relative. MABEL TREVOR. And you say this ? You I forget myself. He was false, my lord and baser than false. LORD MERLIN. He forsook you ? MABEL TREVOR. If he had, I might have fancied a thousand excuses for him, and wondered and hoped and died, without a reproach. He told me that his kinsman was proud and powerful that he dare not fulfil his pledge. Well it was cruel, and my brain was crushed but I bore it. LORD MERLIN. Coward ! MABEL TREVOR. Then he went on he said he loved me loved me ! he said 1 cannot I cannot LORD MERLIN. Patience patience ! MABEL TREVOR. Oh ! God, that young affection full of truth and joy 96 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT iv. should be poisoned at its very spring. He said he would never marry but that still, unwedded, we might he would have covered my whole life with infamy ! LORD MERLIN. Villain ! MABEL TREVOR. We parted for ever. It was my intention to leave this house, that he might never hear of me again. But he wrote to me, to stamp the wrong in a more deliberate form. (Drawing out the letter.) There was nothing left but to vindicate my honour. I resolved to see his proud kinsman, and to place this letter, unopened, in his hands. LORD MERLIN. You were quite right. MABEL TREVOR. I resolved to tell him all. LORD MERLIN. And will do so ? MABEL TREVOR (rising). I have done so ! LORD MERLIN. I'm paralyzed. This heartless scoundrel, then was my nephew. Give me the letter. (Takes the letter and puts it up) I will make retributive use of it. He shall suffer for this ! Miss Trevor, for myself I can only say that had Mr. Sandford confided in me, you would have been spared much misery he irretrievable degradation. He is un- worthy of you. Let him perish an outcast and a beggar ! MABEL TREVOR. Oh ! my lord, you will not cast him off? SCENE ii.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 9? LORD MERLIN. I will deal with him as he deserves. The interest I felt in him is dead it revives in you. What are your future plans ? You will not refuse, at least, my counsel. MABEL TREVOR. T am very grateful for your goodness. I had hoped that the lapse of years might have obliterated family resent- ments, and that my relatives might relent. LORD MERLIN. Perhaps I might intercede for you if my influence could MABEL TREVOR. Possibly your lordship may have some knowledge of the Raymond family in Wiltshire ? LORD MERLIN. Raymond ? MABEL TREVOR. Raymond and Osterly. LORD MERLIN. And your mother's name was MABEL TREVOR. Her name was (looking up) Your look appals me ! LORD MERLIN. Marian MABEL TREVOR (in a low, frightened tone). It was ! LORD MERLIN covers his face with his hands and sinks into a chair. 98 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT iv. MABEL TREVOR. My lord ! LORD MERLIN (recovering slowly). The very tone of her voiceit thrilled me, and I knew not why. And Marian died of grief and suffering. Early loved and lost, her image has dwelt in my heart, and hallowed it ! Marian had it been otherwise MABEL TREVOR. My dear lord LORD MERLIN. Her face conies back upon me through the mist of years, with all its radiant beauty, as fresh as when I first beheld it her bright sunny smile, her clustering hair. I never saw her after her marriage. Pm glad of it ; for, in my imagination, she is still the same. Memory has re- gistered no change in that face. It beams upon me still through my gushing tears. (MABEL, ivho has gradually dropped on her knees beside him, draws a miniature from her bosom, and silently holds it before him.) LORD MERLIN. Dear child ! (He throws his arms round her with a bubbling cry, and his head sinks upon her shoulder.) END OF ACT IV. [ACT v. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 99 ACT V. SCENE I. MONTAGUE'S lodgings, poorly furnished. MONTAGUE dis- covered seated at one side, awe? EMILY MANIFOLD at the other, rocking herself on a chair. Pause. MONTAGUE. Well, my love, how do you feel ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Feel ? I don't feel at all. MONTAGUE. That's odd I'm in a regular fever. I'm at ninety in the shade. EMILY MANIFOLD. We're both in the shade at present. MONTAGUE. Well it's no wonder. Never was married before. 'Tis such an electrifying sensation. It sends such a rush of blood to the head. EMILY MANIFOLD. I'm sure it does to the cheeks. My face is burning over with shame. I shall certainly die of vexation. MONTAGUE. That would be very unreasonable on your wedding-day a day destined to be celebrated in my " Life and Times." H 2 1 00 MOTIIEES AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v, EMILY MANIFOLD. You shall celebrate no such thing. Just think of what you've done of of of this this this it's it's it's what would ma say if she could see me now ! I must have a good cry. (Sobs and cries hysterically.) MONTAGUE. My love, you'll alarm the house don't cry in that hilarious manner. I know how hard it is to keep down extra- ordinary joy but this is a peculiar sort of house. It isn't exactly like ma's it's a it's a EMILY MANIFOLD (with wonder and impatience). It's a what? MONTAGUE. Why these are lodgings, you understand lodgings there's somebody else overhead and another gentleman below in short, it's not my house I'm only a lodger EMILY MANIFOLD. Overhead! below ! and so I I who might have been mistress of Merlin House am married, actually married, to only a lo lo lodger. MONTAGUE. How different you are from me ! Now I could be happy with you anywhere. I should never think of what sort of house I was in, so long as you lodged me in your heart. EMILY. Yes, but how would you like to lodge there, if you found somebody else overhead, and another gentleman below? You'd like to have my whole heart to yourself, you would, without any fear of disturbing the other lo lod lodg lodgers ers ! SCENE L] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 101 MONTAGUE Cursed unlucky simile that. Other lodgers in your heart ! The thing's impossible. I've taken it on a long lease, and it will be too much out of repair wfren : Fve done with it to offer any temptation to a new tenant. EMILY MANIFOLD. Fine speeches won't do now. I hate 'em I hate you I hate myself I hate ma ! Answer me weren't we married this morning ? MONTAGUE. Incontestably. EMILY MANIFOLD. And this is the place you bring me home to ? MONTAGUE. 'Tis private they'll never find us out here. EMILY MANIFOLD. Never that's certain. What do you call this odious place ? MONTAGUE. Central you mean. Surrey-street. If you put your head out of the lobby-window, and stretch a little, you can see the river. Fine view of the water procession on Lord Mayor's day ! EMILY MANIFOLD. The very thought suffocates me. MONTAGUE. Don't disparage the street Congreve the poet, lived here. EMILY MANIFOLD. That shows it cannot be respectable. Poet ! It might 102 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. do well enough for a poet perhaps it's too good for a poet. But for you, Montague ! for you and me ! Is this the only room you have ? V, . /I MONTAGUE. This, is my principal room. EMILY MANIFOLD. Is it here you receive company ? MONTAGUE. Receive company ! EMILY MANIFOLD. There's not a bit of decent furniture in the room. MONTAGUE. What do we want with furniture ? EMILY MANIFOLD. You might as well ask me what do we want with servants, plate, carriage, horses, or any other necessary of life ! MONTAGUE. 'Pon my life, so I might. EMILY MANIFOLD, Furniture ! Do you suppose my friends can sit on cane chairs when they come to see me ? How do you think I can live without ottomans and fauteuils 1 Must I put two chairs together to recline upon, and perhaps have the satis- faction of finding them break down under me ? Where are any of the elegancies of life here ? Hangings ? mirrors ? pictures ? I was cruelly deceived in you, Captain Mon- tague. MONTAGUE. Don't call me captain Swinford Hastings say Swin if SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 103 you like ; or Hasty " Let us haste." Dear Hasty it's more like man and wife (she turns away}. Come come ^ Your wedding-day and all! You're wrong about the furniture. Like all women, you're inconstant and incon- sistent. EMILY MANIFOLD. How am I inconsistent ? MONTAGUE. Remember, my angel, what you said With thee content, I ask no more I want not lands, nor golden store, Nor furnished palaces (furnished, observe!) oh ! Jove, Give me but naked walls and love ! Jove has granted your prayer no mistake about the walls ! EMILY MANIFOLD. That was only when you were making love to me. MONTAGUE. And what's to prevent me from continuing to make love to you ? EMILY MANIFOLD. There's no occasion now. Nobody thinks of playing their cards over again, after winning the game. MONTAGUE. But the most experienced players like to renew the ex- citement by talking of their success. EMILY MANIFOLD. That's all very well for the winner. The loser has no pleasure in renewing the excitement. Montague, you 104 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v have won me certainly I own it but have you won me Wy? MONTAGUE. If I have finessed for the odd trick, who could look in your eyes and blame me ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Don't look so in my eyes, you wretch ! And this is the odd trick is it ? (Looking round) I'm very angry very, very I thought we should have made such a delightful confusion gone off in such style had them all in a panic and paragraphs in the newspapers ! but this this will kill poor ma ! I'll not stay in this house another moment. MONTAGUE. 'Pon my life, youVe quite changed your character. You used to speak so low, and EMILY MANIFOLD. Yes but ma was over me then ! I'm my own mistress now at any rate, and as I never had my own way with her, * I'm determined I'll have it with you. Ring the bell. MONTAGUE. The bell? EMILY MANIFOLD. I insist upon it MONTAGUE. But, my love do be calm the bell is broke well, if you insist (goes to the door and returns again). Now, you know the worst let us calmly discuss our situation EMILY MANIFOLD. No Montague, if you love me, take me out of this house. SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 105 MONTAGUE. If I love you ! Haven't I given up every thing for you ? -if- EMILY MANIFOLD. You have given up ? MONTAGUE. To be sure I have : independence and popularity. I used to go where I pleased, and every body was glad to see me. It was, " Here's the Captain !" " How very odd ! you're the very man I was thinking of." " There's that dog, Montague, passing the windows without coming in."" Hollo ! my boy !" " Don't forget me, my dear fellow, at the Clarendon." Forget you ? Never. That's all over now do you call that giving up nothing ? I was as familiar in the clubs as if I belonged to them, and never saw any difference in the Carlton or Reform except in the temporary ascendancy of a sauce or a fritter. My club glories are at an end. I shall never more haunt St. James's towards dinner-hour, with the fidelity of a post delivery ; or drop in for morning calls where there is reason to expect evening invitations. I have given up every thing for you. EMILY MANIFOLD. And what have I not given up for you? Liberty the whole rights of \voman ! Flattery, conquest, tyranny, and caprice a house of luxury, where I was the centre of ad- miration and suitors upon suitors all day long ! Is that no sacrifice ? and what has it come to ? MONTAGUE. Ton my life, you do me injustice. You might have had a worse husband. I have only one fault. 106 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. EMILY MANITOLD. And pray what is that ? MONTAGUE. I'm ambitious enough to be in love with you, but so confoundedly poor as not to be indifferent to your fortune. What was I to do? I could give up the clubs but I couldn't give up you. EMILY MANIFOLD. Do you really, truly love me, Montague ? MONTAGUE. Ask the comets do they EMILY MANIFOLD. That'll do, You're my husband. MONTAGUE. I'm proud of it. EMILY MANIFOLD. I won't complain any more MONTAGUE. Nor I. EMILY MANIFOLD. On one condition. MONTAGUE. Name it. EMILY MANIFOLD. That you take me home at once to ma. MONTAGUE. Don't you think that's a little unreasonable so very soon after leaving her ? She'd lock you up where should I be then? SCENE i.] MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. 10? EMILY MANIFOLD. I'd escape, and come back to you. MONTAGUE. You would ? EMILY MANIFOLD. I would. MONTAGUE. Then I'd be the most ungrateful of husbands to put so devoted a wife to such a painful necessity. I'll compro- mise the difficulty. Dry up the pretty eyes, and we'll call on Lord Merlin, EMILY MANIFOLD. Oh ! that's a good Montague. MONTAGUE. He's a man of sense (Aside) I hope he'll ask us to dinner and has influence with ma. EMILY MANIFOLD. Don't let us lose a moment. MONTAGUE (as they are going). But, my dear, (looking round the room,) one doesn't want the whole world to be as wise as one's self, you know there are domestic secrets in every family. EMILY MANIFOLD. The very thing I was going to say to you. But you might have depended on my pride. MONTAGUE. I forgot that. A woman is the best confidante after all, where her husband's credit is at stake. You shall see what an heroic figure you'll make in my " Life and Times." [ [Exeunt. 108 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. SCENE II. Drawing-room at LORD MERLIN'S. LORD MERLIN dis- covered seated. B LOU NT standing. LORD MERLIN. You told Mr. Sandford I wanted to see him. BLOUNT. I did. LORD MERLIN. Then go we must be alone. BLOUNT. I've business with you. LORD MERLIN (with VeJCtttioil). Business ! BLOUNT. Loop has robbed you, and run away with the money. LORD MERLIN. Then run after him and recover it. BLOUNT. Is that the way you attend to your affairs ? LORD MERLIN. Blount, you never plagued me in this way formerly. BLOUNT. I had no occasion. You had only one servant then. LORD MERLIN. Yourself. Perhaps you are right. Crowds of lackeys, SCENE IL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 109 settling like horse-flies on" stairs and lobbies, are not calculated to improve one's temper. BLOUNT. Have you found it out at last ? You're a changed man since you became a lord changed for the worse. Master ! that's the old name I used to call you by I never called you my lord! You'd have been ruined over and over again but for Mr. Sandford and me. We're the only true friends you have: all the rest are sycophants and plunderers. LORD MERLIN. Mr. Sandford ? well. BLOUNT. The moment he heard that Loop had decamped, he sent me after him. I found him at supper with a confederate, and recovered every farthing. LORD MERLIX. And pray who was his confederate ? BLOUNT. Mistress Rose, Miss Manifold's waiting-woman. I brought them both back. LORD MERLIN. But Mr. Sandford LLOUNT. He wouldn't let me disturb you till the business was settled. He said you were ill. That was an excuse. I know some trouble has fallen out between ye. What is it, master? Mr. Sandford loves you. I'll answer for him. You are rough to him, cross, tyrannical. I will speak : my whole life has been spent in your service faithfully, and 110 MOTHEES AND DAUGHTEKS. [ACT v. I have a right to speak. You're grown unnatural to those that love you. I wish you were poor again. LORD MERLIN. An unkind wish, Blount. BLOUNT. The kindest ! You had a heart then what's become of it ? I see nothing of it. You used to scold me formerly for every trifle : it did me good, and made me happy. You never scold me now ! Then, Mr. Sandford he used to be so merry, singing through the house, and what not! now, he goes about as melancholy I can't bear to look at him. There's something wrong it's not my business I beg pardon but Mr. Sandford loves you don't be harsh to him he's young and giddy but he loves you don't be harsh to him I beg pardon, master ! don't don't don't. [Exit. LORD MERLIN. Blount's affection touches me to the core. But he does not know my nephew's offence. If he did, he would condemn him as I do. Is he ashamed to meet me, that he delays so long ? So you are come at last, Mr. Sand- ford. Enter MR. SANDFORD. SANDFORD (aside). Mr. Sandford ! (to him) Why, uncle, I LORD MERLIN. No excuse. You would have shirked this interview, tf you could. SANDFORD. Shirked ? SCENE n.] MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. Ill LORD MERLIN. The word belongs to the vocabulary of that town life to which you are accustomed It implies a mean shrinking from inquiry a cowardly evasion of responsibility. I thought you might be familiar with it. SANDFORD. Uncle if you have any thing to say to me, say it at once. I cannot bear this suspense. LORD MERLIN. People who are indifferent to the sufferings of others, are always selfish enough to feel their owu acutely. You shall hear it, sir. SANDFORD. Sir ! what have I done, uncle, to merit this ? If you have any charge to make against me LORD MERLIN. Ask your own heart, sir I beg pardon, you have none ! Look back, sir, into your recent conduct is there nothing in it nothing that you have reason to be ashamed of ? SANDFORD. Many things that I regret LORD MERLIN. Regret ! Is there nothing that disgraces you as a gentle- man and a man of honour ! nothing, sir, that disentitles you for the rest of your life to any further countenance from me ? SANDFORD. Whatever I have done, uncle, thus much I may say in my own defence, that I have done nothing contrary to 112 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. your wishes. Others may have reason to condemn me you at least have none. LORD MERLIN. I have most reason of all, sir. I find you, a youth, cast like a waif upon the waters, without friends or means. I draw you to the firm shore lift you to affluence make you my heir and look forward with pride and exultation to your future course. I flatter myself I have succeeded in forming your principles I build all my hopes on you all, for I had nothing left to live for: well, at this juncture, with the world opening auspiciously upon you, you sud- denly disappoint me, and the foolish fabric I had been raising with so much care crumbles in a single hour into dust ! SANDFORD. No no hear me, sir LORD MERLIN. That's not all. In return for my lavish kindness, you repay me with distrust. I give your ingratitude to the winds let it go but I cannot so easily dismiss your want of confidence. Young blood may throw off benefactors in moments of heated passion ; but there is no apology for violating the confidence of friendship. If you thought fit to discard the uncle, you should have remembered that he was also the friend, and have continued to place that confi- dence in him which he never refused to you. SANDFORD. My dear uncle but protestations are useless I would have confided every thing to you, without reserve, could I have thought you would approve LORD MERLIN. Approve? approve of an act of perfidy? SCENE i.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 113 SANDFORD. Perfidy ! no of my attachment for Mabel. Disguise is at an end I see you have discovered my wretched secret ; and I am glad of it. LORD MERLIN. Who told you, sir, that I should disapprove of your attachment, as you call it, for Mabel Trevor ? SANDFORD. Who told me ? You did ; in words as plain as if you named her. You said that you would have no love-matches that I must look for family and fortune. I owed you much, uncle you had always been (overcome with emo- tion) at the cost of my own peace of mind, I obeyed you. LORD MERLIN. Obeyed me by attempting the ruin of a defenceless girl, who had been weak enough to listen to your addresses ? SANDFORD. Now, indeed, T. am humiliated. LORD MERLIN. Take care how you make me responsible for your actions. My admonition was general general. It had no refer- ence to her I knew nothing of your design upon her. SANDFORD. Design ? If ever man loved LORD MERLIN. Love ! Do not profane the name. A man who loves a woman holds her honour as sacred as his life. No more of this, sir. I desired to see you this morning, in order that some abject expression of your remorse should be made i 114 MOTHEES AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. to sooth Miss Trevor's wounded feelings before we sepa- rate. SANDFORD. Separate ? LORD MERLIN. I have no wish to treat you with more severity than your crime demands crime, I call it crime ! nor will I add any parting tortures to those which your own accusing thoughts must already afflict you with. SANDFORD. Uncle what would you do? LORD MERLIN. Upon condition that you accept a commission in a regi- ment on foreign service, I will allow you an annuity suffi- cient for the simple necessities of your station. Declining this condition, all further intercourse ceases between us. SANDFORD. And you say you are not needlessly severe oh ! uncle I whom you held so closely to your heart, when you shut out all the rest of the world, and who have responded to the pressure with a true allegiance, through all changes of health and spirits before, too, there were any expectations in the case to suggest a sordid motive to my affections ! LORD MERLIN. You would bribe my justice, boy. SANDFORD. No, in your justice I am safe. For myself it is a matter of indifference. North, west, east, or south, it is all the same to me now : but wherever my destiny casts me, my SCENEL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 115 anxiety for her will only be increased by time and dis- tance. LORD MERLIN. It will be a waste of sympathy which might be more wisely employed. Miss Trevor leaves London to-morrow, and from that moment your fortunes are flung as widely asunder as if you dwelt apart in the extremities of the earth. (Enter TOM with a card which he hands to LORD MERLIN.) A provoking interruption tell them I'm en- gaged show them into the next room. Enter CAPTAIN MONTAGUE and EMILY. [Exit TOM. MONTAGUE. It's no use take no refusals no time for saying no is it, my dear ? You see, my lord, I'm as good as my word ran away with her this morning. LORD MERLIN. Your expedition, Captain, takes me by surprise. I scarcely looked for the honour of a visit so early. MONTAGUE. True out of course but extreme cases, you know, require extreme measures. The fact is LORD MERLIN. Excuse me. (To SAND FORD) You had better retire to your room, till I get rid of these troublesome visiters. I'll send for you when I'm alone. (Exit SANDFORD.) And you are actually married ? MONTAGUE. Actually in my own parish strictly private no parade no bell-ringers no nonsense over in ten minutes but i 2 116 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEES. [ACT v. my wife had some little scruples about hem ! her ma ! and knowing your lordship's eminent good-nature, would have me just call upon you to ask your interference EMILY MANIFOLD. I hope your lordship isn't angry with me for giving the preference to the Captain ! LORD MERLIN. Why should I be angry to see you so happy ? Have you been home yet ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Home? MONTAGUE. Home ? oh ! yes no you mean LORD MERLIN. Of course you've taken her to your own house, her future home ? MONTAGUE. My house ? eh ! oh ! certainly she's quite charmed eh ! my love ? so different, you know, to be mistress of her own establishment EMILY MANIFOLD. Very different I'm quite charmed ! LORD MERLIN (half aside to MONTAGUE). You don't intend to lay her up half the year like a ship in ordinary ! MONTAGUE. I hope, with ma's help, to set her afloat, by and by, like a ship in full sail ! SCENE ii.] MOTHEES AND DAUGHTERS. Enter TOM with another card. LORD MERLIN. This is very awkward. What am I to do with you ? MONTAGUE. With us ? what's the matter ? LORD MERLIN. Lady Manifold and Sir Gregory are coming up. MONTAGUE. Oh ! my lord, hide us anywhere striking incident this for my " Life and Times. " EMILY MANIFOLD. I shall faint I wouldn't see ma to-day for oh ! where shall we go ? LORD MERLIN. Into this apartment, if you will have patience to remain till I release you. EMILY MANIFOLD. Thank you, my lord MONTAGUE, Under the table, if necessary. [Exeunt into the inner room. (ToM showing in LADY MANIFOLD and SIR GREGORY PLUMP, and goes off.) LADY MANIFOLD. Oh! my lord the dreadful intelligence I have to com- municate I know you'll be shocked judge of my horror and mortification that wretch Montague the pitiful, beg- garly reptile, that lives, no one knows how and where, has taken advantage of the confiding simplicity of my poor 118 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. child, and inveigled her away perhaps, at this moment, she's hiding her grief in some miserable garret. (During the above MONTAGUE and EMILY MANIFOLD occasionally peep out.) LORD MERLIN. I hope not so bad. The care with which you educated her LADY MANIFOLD. Pve nothing to reproach myself with on that score, certainly. LORD MERLIN. The excellent example you showed her LADY MANIFOLD. True true LORD MERLIN. The pains you took to provide a husband for her suitable to her years LADY MANIFOLD. Y es! y e s! LORD MERLIN. It is surely not possible so much maternal tenderness and such judicious counsels should be so ill repaid. LADY MANIFOLD. One would think not. LORD MERLIN. Now had you filled her head with folly and pride LADY MANIFOLD. Ah! SCENE IL] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 119 LORD MERLIN. Had you nursed her vanity, excluded every useful ac- complishment and made her egregiously frivolous and artificial LADY MANIFOLD. Ah ! if I had LORD MERLIN. Why, if you had, nobody could wonder that she should deceive you, and throw herself away upon just such a beg- garly reptile as you've described. But is the matter really gone so far as you imagine ? LADY MANIFOLD. But I tell you, my lord, it has Montague has entrapped her into it. LORD MERLIN. Suppose it was with her own consent 1 LADY MANIFOLD. If I thought her capable of such an act Fd LORD MERLIN. Don't pronounce a rash sentence. You'd remember that, after all, she was but a foolish girl, and you'd call to mind that when you were young and giddy, like her, you made a runaway match yourself ! (During this speech LORD MERLIN makes signs to MONTAGUE and EMILY, who come down the stage and kneel.) The culprits are at your feet, madam. (Moving aside and discovering them.} SIR GREGORY PLUMP. And you will forgive them. 120 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT T. LADY MANIFOLD. In one word, are you married ? EMILY MANIFOLD. Yes ma, MONTAGUE. Allow me to present Mrs. Montague ! LADY MANIFOLD. It's a conspiracy. You're all in a conspiracy. Don't come near me serpent ! Sir Gregory, you're an acces- sory. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. After the fact, your ladyship. LADY MANIFOLD. And you, my lord, I understand your sneers. I filled her head with vanity I showed her an excellent example I made a runaway match, but it was with a baronet, let me tell you a member of parliament a gentleman, who settled a jointure on me, and who brought me home to a splendid mansion, not a starving stroller who has neither house nor home. As for you, Miss Manifold, alias Mrs. pah ! you were always a cunning, scheming little thing ; but you've made your bed, and a pretty bed it is. I'll I'll get me some water never I'll never SIR GREGORY PLUMP. You agitate yourself. LADY MANIFOLD. Don't speak to me ! EMILY MANIFOLD. You know, ma, you encouraged me to flirt with the captain. SCENE n.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEKS. 12 1 MONTAGUE. And; pon my life, your ladyship's commands placed me in so delicate a predicament that LADY MANIFOLD. I wonder they don't say I connived at it ! Their depra- vity overwhelms me. Had there been a fortune in the case (MONTAGUE looks blank), or interest even to get the fellow in full pay, or any one solid recommendation at either side ; but a poor rat that can hardly keep soul and body together, to marry a girl without a penny, depravity ! MONTAGUE. But, surely EMILY MANIFOLD. But, dear ma, you know I am your daughter after all. LADY MANIFOLD. There there no tears you know, Emily, all I've done for you you know I loved you I I there there get up, child I my own poor Emily ! (throws her arms round her neck] but remember, I haven't forgiven you for all that! LORD MERLIN. Hadn't we better leave them to reflect on their enor- mities ? You can't inflict a greater punishment on them than to leave them together. (Drawing her towards the side.) Sir Gregory, give her ladyship your arm. LADY MANIFOLD. It's pleasant to have a friend in one's trouble. Ah ! Sir Gregory ! SIR GREGORY PLUMP. So it is. LADY MANIFOLD. I don't see why I should imbitter my whole life fretting about her, SIR GREGORY PLUMP. Nor I, neither. 122 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACTV. LADY MANIFOLD. Besides, Sir Richard left me sole control over my little property during my life, and they deserve to suffer. LORD MERLIN. Depend upon it, the turtle-doves are as miserable as your ladyship can desire ! [Exeunt LADY MANIFOLD, LORD MERLIN, and SIR GREGORY PLUMP. (CAPTAIN MONTAGUE and EMILY exchange looks of em- barrassment an awkward pause.) MONTAGUE. Wife! EMILY MANIFOLD. Husband ! MONTAGUE. I thought, my dear, you had a fortune something under a plum ! EMILY MANIFOLD. I thought, my dear, you married me for love ! MONTAGUE. Well so I did but a little settlement EMILY MANIFOLD. I settled myself upon you. MONTAGUE. I forgot that. EMILY MANIFOLD. Some settlements may be revoked MONTAGUE. So they may. EMILY MANIFOLD. Mine cannot. MONTAGUE. No damn it ! it's for life ! SCENE ii.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 123 Enter LORD MERLIN. LORD MERLIN. Go to her go to her. Sir Gregory is pleading for you with the resolution of a martyr. Every argument will cost him a thousand pounds. Watch your opportunity, and ply her with penitence. No words go ! (Exeunt CAPTAIN MONTAGUE and EMILY.) Well I've disposed of them at last ; and now to bring to issue the business that lies heaviest upon my heart. (He goes out, and in a few moments returns, leading in MABEL.) I have seen my nephew. Miss Trevor, and communicated to him my final resolution. I have also apprized him of your approaching departure from London ; and now nothing remains but that he ask pardon, before he takes leave of England. MABEL TREVOR. Indeed, my lord, I do not require it. I am satisfied LORD MERLIN. Young lady, / am not. (Rings the bell.) He goes into another country, amongst strangers (Enter TOM) Tell Mr. Sandford to come here (Exit TOM) he must take a solemn lesson with him. Imperfect atonement would give impunity to future errors. MABEL TREVOR (agitated). Do not press this upon me. Suffer me to withdraw. LORD MERLIN. Then you repent your resolution ? MABEL TREVOR. Oh ! no, my lord my resolution is taken. Only do not ask me to witness his humiliation. LORD MERLIN. Humiliation ! It will be useful to him, and it is due to ytfu. Be true to yourself. He is here. 124 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. TACT Y Enter SANDFORD. SANDFORD. Mabel ! (LORD MERLIN remains silent) observing them.) MABEL (after a violent effort, which she Jin ally overcomes.) My lord LORD MERLIN (to SANDFORD). I will not oppress you with any needless reference to the past. At my request, Miss Trevor is here to receive, in my presence, such an apology for your conduct as your own sense of its unworthiness may suggest. SANDFORD (aside}. If I could lift my eyes to hers LORD MERLIN. Well you are silent ? SANDFORD. My lord, I cannot find words LORD MERLIN. Oh ! You are at a loss for words you were not at a loss for words when you contemplated the commission of a flagrant wrong. SANDFORD. Spare me, and I will try to speak. LORD MERLIN. Bear this in mind your contrition I hope it is sincere ! can have no influence on my determination. Do not deceive yourself upon that point. Whatever you say, must be voluntary. SANDFORD. My lord, you bear hardly upon me ; but I acknowledge the rigorous justice with which you treat me. If I cannot SCENE ii.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 125 speak freely, it is shame alone that checks me. Miss Trevor, could I draw out my heart before you that you might see its secret emotions, there would be no need to tell you what I have suffered, and what I am suffering now. I dare not ask your pardon he who, possessing your love, could have abused it even in thought, does not deserve pardon. But my brain was distracted at that fatal inter- view I had but one fear before me, the fear of losing you I spoke incoherently like one in a frenzy I believed my uncle would never consent to our union oh ! if I had had the courage to consult him ! But it is too late now my guilt was unpremeditated, and it was scarcely uttered when my soul was filled with the bitterness of remorse. MABEL TREVOR. No more I entreat, no more ! LORD MERLIN. You say it was unpremeditated ? SANDFORD. So unpremeditated, that I can hardly gather up a clear recollection of what happened. I remember nothing but that in a moment of impetuous passion I forfeited that con- fidence to the sacred maintenance of which I looked for a life of honour and happiness. LORD MERLIN. It was rather a protracted moment, since it lasted till the next day, when you deliberately confirmed the insult by writing to Miss Trevor. Oh ! Sandford, Sandford, this flimsy excuse only makes the matter worse. SANDFORD. I did write to her can you produce my letter ? LORD MERLIN. I can, to your confusion (taking it on*) Miss Trevor 126 MOTHEES AND DAUGHTEKS. [ACT v. handed it to me as she received it, and I have preserved it unopened do not force me to read it. SANDFORD. Then you have not read it ? Give it to me LORD MERLIN. Why are you so eager to repossess it ? SANDFORD. Only to place it in her hands again. LORD MERLIN. You wilfully draw down the consequences. Nothing nothing but your own folly could have induced me to expose you any further (tweaks the seal, and reads). " I tremble with agitation while I write. Hardly conscious of what I said to you yesterday, but too well assured of the wound I inflicted on your feelings, I hasten to make all the atonement in my power. I relinquish for ever all expectations from my uncle. Even my uncle himself, when he knows all, will pardon me ; but were the sacrifice, if i^ be a sacrifice, a thousand times greater than it is, I would make it cheerfully. On my knees, I entreat for pardon. Do not destroy one who loves you with so true a faith." SANDFORD (throwing himself on his knees before MABEL). And again upon my knees, I sue for pardon and here, in my uncle's presence, again I relinquish all dreams of rank and wealth, if you will pity and forgive me ! MABEL TREVOR. Forgive ! my eyes are dim with tears ! LORD MERLIN. Raise him from the ground. It is no time for talking. Bob, I have done you injustice, but it was your own fault. SCENE n.] MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 12? This little trial of your principles will make you value each other the more. (He joins their hands.) Be happy be happy ! You relinquish all dreams of wealth, Bob ! I take you at your word it shall be no dream, but a reality. Enter LADT MANIFOLD and SIR GREGORY, followed by CAPTAIN MONTAGUE and EMILY. LADY MANIFOLD. Well well. Sir Gregory and I will consider of it. You can't expect that I should cut down my own expendi- ture to put a premium upon your disobedience ; no, that's rather too much. SIR GREGORY PLUMP. It would be highly unreasonable. (To EMILY) How could you expect your mother to do any thing of the kind ? (To LADY MANIFOLD) But, as you mentioned, there's room enough for them in the house, and, when a certain event takes place, you know we will spend a few months at Plump Park, and they can keep the establishment in town in order for us ; and, by and by, who knows but LADY MANIFOLD. Ah ! Sir Gregory, your heart runs before your head; and if there were as many mortgages on Plump Park as there are upon your benevolence, I'm afraid the establishment in town would be the only resource for us all. However, I forgive them. EMILY* MANIFOLD. Oh ! ma, then you'll take me home to-day ? MONTAGUE. You see, your ladyship, although I ran away with your daughter, I didn't attempt to alienate her domestic affec- tions. LORD MERLIN (coming forward). So I find you have agreed upon a truce. I thought 1 28 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. [ACT v. you would. And if I don't mistake, Gregory, I detect in her ladyship's bashful glances the tremulous indications of a surrender. She has got a nibble at last. What a festival of weddings we shall have ! I am the only soli- tary amongst ye no, not solitary. Here (SANDFORD and MABEL come forward) is my bridal. In them I revive, and they will crown my closing years with grateful love. LADY MANIFOLD. Mabel Mr. Sandford. What does this mean ? LORD MERLIN. I had forgotten. Allow me to introduce Mabel Trevor linked to my heart by old and tender memories as the betrothed of my nephew. While you have been arranging your wedding diplomacies in the next room, we have been settling similar preliminaries here. LADY MANIFOLD (half aside}. Is it possible ? Well I'll put the best face I can upon it. (Crossing over to MABEL) My dear Mabel, suffer me to wish you joy. I am really quite enchanted at this delightful turn of fortune. Mr. Sandford, I sincerely con- gratulate you. You've got a treasure in her. LORD MERLIN (half aside). What a wonderful forcing-bed is prosperity for the growth of sudden friendships! (To SANDFORD) You hear what her ladyship says, Bob you have got a treasure in her. Let that truth sink into your heart, and regulate your life. Guard your treasure well it is more precious than gold. When the pomp of heraldry perishes in desolate vanities round its possessor, the pure affection of woman survives to him, superior in its fidelity to all the shows of fortune, or the accidents of birth. THE END. YB 74572 864166 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY