The School for Scandal

“SNAKE. Not in the least; everybody allows that Lady Sneerwell can do more with a word or a look than many can with the most labored detail, even when they happen to have a little truth on their side to support it.

LADY SNEERWELL. Yes, my dear Snake; and I am no hypocrite to deny the satisfaction I reap from the success of my efforts. Wounded myself, in the early part of my life, by the envenomed tongue of slander, I confess I have since known no pleasure equal to the reducing others to the level of my own injured reputation.”

Snake’s comment claims that Sneerwell is a masterful gossip, and his claim rests specifically on how much damage she can do with her scandals. Her response reveals the origin of her gossiping lifestyle, in which she was previously injured by scandal and now relishes hurting others. This passage clearly demonstrates how both Sneerwell and Snake know what they are doing is wrong, but they enjoy it anyway.

“JOSEPH SURFACE. True, madam;—notwithstanding his vices, one can’t help feeling for him.—Aye, poor Charles! I’m sure I wish it was in my power to be of any essential service to him.—For the man who does not share in the distress of a brother, even though merited by his own misconduct, deserves—

LADY SNEERWELL. O lud! You are going to be moral, and forget that you are among friends.

JOSEPH SURFACE. Egad, that’s true!—I’ll keep that sentiment till I see Sir Peter.”

This passage highlights how Joseph has maintained a good reputation amid his gossiping, reflecting The Discrepancy Between Public Virtue and Private Vice. Sneerwell calls out his moralizing, noting that he is “among friends,” to which he replies that he will save his morals for Sir Peter. This exchange reveals that Joseph does not see other people as friends but as pawns to move in his game. He uses his sentimental speeches merely to keep others thinking that he is a good person.

“MRS. CANDOUR. Why, to be sure, a tale of scandal is as fatal to the credit of a prudent lady of her stamp as a fever is generally to those of the strongest constitutions; but there is a sort of puny, sickly reputation that is always ailing, yet will outlive the robuster characters of 100 prudes.

SIR BENJAMIN. True, madam, there are valetudinarians in reputation as well as constitution, who, being conscious of their weak part, avoid the least breath of air, and supply their want of stamina by care and circumspection.”

Candour and Benjamin’s discussion centers on the different ways gossip can affect other people. Sneerwell, for example, is one such valetudinarian of reputation, as she can withstand any amount of criticism without changing her position in society. Implied in this passage is that an innocent person, like Lady Teazle or Maria, could have a pristine reputation and still be brought down by any amount of gossip or scandal.

“SIR PETER. Yet I chose with caution—a girl bred wholly in the country, who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet now she plays her part in all the extravagant hobbies of the fashion in the town, with as ready as grace as if she had never seen a bush nor grassplat played out of Grosvenor Square! […] Yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all this.”

This passage highlights Peter’s misogynistic view of Lady Teazle, in which he assumes that she will always be the girl he found in the country. He sees her involvement in town affairs as a sign that the town has corrupted her, rather than face her desire for independence. His assumption that her country upbringing would ensure a certain kind of morality reflects the theme of The Moral Conflicts of Human Nature. Nonetheless, he asserts that he loves Lady Teazle, foreshadowing their eventual reconciliation.

“SIR PETER. Oh! They have made you just as bad as any one of the society.

LADY TEAZLE. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable grace. But I vow I have no malice against the people I abuse; When I say an ill-natured thing, ‘tis out of pure good humour—and I take it for granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, do you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell’s too.

SIR PETER. Well, well, I’ll call in just to look after my own character.”

Lady Teazle’s view of gossip is friendly, and she insists that she does not see the harm in gossiping. She does not yet realize The Destructive Nature of Gossip and Scandal, even as Peter insists on the immorality of scandal. In the end, Peter chooses not to argue, instead saying that he will look after his character at Sneerwell’s, implying that he cannot trust Lady Teazle or Lady Sneerwell to spare him from gossip.

“SIR PETER. Aye, madam; and then no person should be permitted to kill characters or run down reputations, but qualified old maids and disappointed widows.

LADY SNEERWELL. Go, you monster!

MRS. CANDOUR. But sure you would not be quite so severe on those who only report what they hear.

SIR PETER. Yes, madam, I would have a law merchant for them too; and in all cases of slander currency, whenever the drawer of the lie was not to be found, the injured parties should have a right to come on any of the endorsers.”

Peter’s suggestion for setting up laws to regulate gossip offends Sneerwell because Peter is effectively calling her an “old maid” or a “disappointed widow.” Candour asks for forgiveness as a mere reporter, but Peter does not allow her to hide behind this guise. In Peter’s view, libel and slander laws should punish those who spread and start rumors. In this instance, Sheridan is assuring the audience that no part of gossip is acceptable.

“JOSEPH SURFACE. A curious dilemma, truly, my politics have run me into! I wanted, at first, only to ingratiate myself with Lady Teazle, that she might not be my enemy with Maria; and I have, I don’t know how, become her serious lover. Sincerely I begin to wish I had never made such a point of gaining so very good a character, for it has led me into so many cursed rosaries that I doubt I shall be exposed at last.”

Joseph’s lament here is not that he has spun too many lies to manage, but that his excellent portrayal of morality has led to an entanglement with Lazy Teazle. This passage shows both how Joseph deceives himself into thinking he is the smartest person in the play and how Joseph will ultimately become undone, reflecting The Discrepancy Between Public Virtue and Private Vice.

“SIR PETER. Joseph is, indeed, what a youth should be—everybody in the world speaks well of him.

SIR OLIVER. I am sorry to hear it—he has too good a character to be an honest fellow.—everybody speaks well of him! Psha! Then he has bowed as low to knaves and fools us to the honest dignity of genius or virtue.

SIR PETER. What, Sir Oliver! Do you blame him for not making enemies?

SIR OLIVER. Yes, if he has merit enough to deserve them.”

Oliver’s perspective on appearances follows a contradictory rule, in that those with the best reputations must also have the worst morality. His reasoning is somewhat classist, as he asserts that someone who is liked by everyone must “bow as low” to “knaves” as “virtue,” implying the lower classes cannot have virtue. However, he is correct in the play, as Joseph does befriend people like Sneerwell and Snake.

“SIR OLIVER. I’ll accompany you as soon as you please, Moses; but hold! I have forgotten one thing—how the plague shall I be able to pass for a Jew?

MOSES. There’s no need—the principal is Christian.

SIR OLIVER. Is he?—I’m sorry to hear it—but, then again, an’t I rather too smartly dressed to look like a money lender?

SIR PETER. Not at all; ‘twould not be out of character, if you went in your own carriage—would it, Moses?

MOSES. Not in the least.”

This exchange exposes the antisemitism of the play, which was common in 18th-century literature. Oliver cannot imagine himself pretending to be Jewish, and he expresses disappointment at finding out that Christian men also lend money, as though that is a dishonor unique to the Jewish community. When Moses replies “Not in the least,” he is forced to be complicit in his own mockery, which shows the extent of the marginalization of Jewish people in this society.

“SIR OLIVER. To judge by the servants one wouldn’t believe the master was ruined. But what!—sure, this was my brother’s house?

MOSES. Yes, sir; Mr. Charles bought it of Mr. Joseph, with the furniture, pictures, &c., just as the old gentleman left it—Sir Peter thought it a great piece of extravagance in him.

SIR OLIVER. In my mind, the other’s economy in selling it to him was more reprehensible by half.”

Again, Oliver exposes his disdain for the lower classes by judging Trip for wanting to borrow money. However, the crucial element of this passage is how Oliver deduces the true culprit in Charles’s ruin: Joseph. By selling Charles the house, Oliver sees how Joseph is actually behind much of Charles’s reckless behavior.

“CHARLES. ‘Fore heaven, ‘tis true!—there’s the great degeneracy of the age. Many of our acquaintances have taste, spirit, and politeness; but, plague on’t, they won’t drink.

CARELESS. It is so, indeed, Charles! they give in to all the substantial luxuries of the table, and abstained from nothing but wine and wit.

CHARLES. Oh, certainly society suffers by it intolerably! For now, instead of the social spirit of raillery that used to mantle over a glass of great Burgundy, their conversation has become just like the Spa-water they drink, which has all the pertinence and flatulence of champagne, without its spirit or flavor.”

Though this passage does not address Charles’s character directly, his complaint about modernity is that people are not drinking enough. Wine is often used as a symbol of honesty, implying that people are more honest when they are drunk. Charles’s affinity for alcohol, then, is representative of his honesty, and his complaint is that people are not honest enough.

“CHARLES. Mr. Premium, the plain state of the matter is this—I am an extravagant young fellow who wants money to borrow; you I take to be a prudent old fellow, who has got money to lend. I am blockhead enough to give fifty per cent sooner than not have it; and you, I presume, are rogue enough to take a hundred you could get it. Now, sir, you see we are acquainted at once, and may proceed to business without further ceremony.

SIR OLIVER. Exceeding frank, upon my word. I see, sir, you are not a man of many compliments.

CHARLES. Oh, no, sir! Plain dealing in business I always think best.”

Charles frankly discusses the process of borrowing money from lenders like Moses and Premium, cheerily admitting to being “an extravagant young fellow” and a “blockhead,” which reinforces his fundamental lack of dissimulation. Charles is completely comfortable with being swindled, and, though Oliver is disappointed in him, Charles prefers to keep his business dealings honest, rather than lying or being lied to.

“CHARLES. Aye, and my great-grandfathers and grandmothers too.

SIR OLIVER. Now I give him up!—[Aside]—What the plague, have you no bowels for your own kindred? Odd’s life! do you take me for Shylock in the play, that you would raise money of me on your own flesh and blood?

CHARLES. Nay, my little broker, don’t be angry: what need you care, if you have your money’s worth?

SIR OLIVER. Well, I’ll be the purchaser—I think I can dispose of the family.—[Aside] Oh, I’ll never forgive him this! Never!”

As with the figurative social deaths from gossip, Oliver introduces another figurative death by linking portraits of family members to their physical bodies and spiritual presence within the family. Comparing himself to Shylock, Oliver is distancing Charles from the crime of disrespecting his family by invoking the villain of The Merchant of Venice, who demands a pound of flesh as a means of repaying a loan.

“ROWLEY. A hundred pounds! Consider only—

CHARLES. Gad’s life, don’t talk about it! Poor Stanley’s wants are pressing, and, if you don’t make haste, we shall have someone call that has a better right to the money.

ROWLEY. Ah! There’s the point! I never will cease dunning you with the old proverb—

CHARLES. ‘Be just before you’re generous,’ hey!— Why, so I would if I could; but justice is an old lame hobbling beldame, and I can’t get her to keep pace with generosity, for the soul of me.”

Charles’s character develops further as Rowley criticizes him for being too generous. In Charles’ view, generosity is more important than resolving his own debts, which he then avoids by gambling, but Rowley reminds him that he should resolve his own issues before helping others. In essence, Charles’s flaw is that he is too moral for his own good, reflecting the opposite of Joseph’s struggle.

“ROWLEY. And here he has commissioned me to redeliver you part of the purchase money—I mean, though, in your necessitous character of old Stanley.

MOSES. Ah! There is the pity of all: he is so damn charitable.

ROWLEY. And I left a hosier and two tailors in the hall, who, I’m sure, won’t be paid, and this hundred would satisfy ‘em.

SIR OLIVER. Well, well, I’ll pay his debts—and his benevolence to; but now I am no more a broker, and you shall introduce me to the older brother as old Stanley.”

Rowley and Moses agree that Charles’s impulsive generosity is a flaw, but it is a flaw he shares with Oliver, who insists on paying Charles’s debts. This passage highlights how Oliver’s main concern is not truly whether Charles is a good or bad person but whether or not Charles meets his own criteria for morality. In Oliver’s view, Charles can banish the whole family, so long as he saves Oliver, and, likewise, Charles can leave his debts unpaid, so long as he is willing to help Stanley.

“JOSEPH SURFACE. Ah, my dear madam, there is the great mistake; ‘tis this very conscious innocence that is of the greatest prejudice to you. What is it makes you negligent of forms, and careless of the world’s opinion? why, the consciousness of your innocence. What makes you thoughtless in your conduct, an apt to run into a thousand little imprudences? why, the consciousness of your innocence. What makes you impatient of Sir Peter’s temper and outrageous at his suspicions? why, the consciousness of your own innocence!”

Joseph’s argument for why Lady Teazle should sleep with him is that her conscious understanding of her own innocence prevents her from acting as though she were innocent, highlighting The Moral Conflicts of Human Nature. In other words, she is so consumed with dissolving any threat of immorality that she appears immoral. Joseph, by contrast, merely masquerades as a moral person, since he knows his immorality well enough to hide it.

“JOSEPH SURFACE. A very narrow escape, indeed! And a curious situation I’m in, to part man and wife in this manner.

LADY TEAZLE [Peeping from the screen]. Couldn’t I steal off?

JOSEPH SURFACE. Keep close, my angel!

SIR PETER [Peeping out]. Joseph, tax him home.

JOSEPH SURFACE. Back, my dear friend!

LADY TEAZLE [Peeping]. Couldn’t you lock Sir Peter in?

JOSEPH SURFACE. Be still, my life!

SIR PETER [Peeping]. You’re sure the little milliner won’t blab?

JOSEPH SURFACE. In, in, my dear Sir Peter!—’Fore gad, I wish I had a key to the door.”

This scene, while comical, serves as an illustration of Joseph’s failure in the play. Since he is trying to keep secrets from too many people, all of whom know each other well, he cannot keep any given person from accidentally revealing part of his plot. As Peter, Lady Teazle, and, later, Charles, discuss their own issues with Joseph, all of Joseph’s plans come unraveled.

“CHARLES. Sir Peter, this is one of the smartest French milliners I ever saw. Egad, you seem all to have been diverting yourselves here at hide and seek—and I don’t see who is out of the secret. Shall I beg your ladyship to inform me?—Not a word!—Brother, will you please to explain this matter? What! Morality dumb too!—Sir Peter, though I found you in the dark, perhaps you are not so now! All mute! Well—though I can speak nothing of the affair, I suppose you perfectly understand one another; so I’ll leave you to yourselves.”

This passage is Charles’s moment to relish his own moral superiority, as he is the only person present who has not kept any secrets from anyone. He points to Lady Teazle, Sir Peter, and Joseph, noting how they are all stunned into silence, while Charles talks at length, finding he has nothing to be embarrassed about. Their predicament invokes The Discrepancy Between Public Virtue and Private Vice.

“LADY TEAZLE. No sir; she has recovered her senses, and your own arts have furnished her with the means.—Sir Peter, I do not expect you to credit me—but the tenderness you expressed for me, when I am sure you could not think I was with a witness to it, has penetrated to my heart, and had I left this place without the shame of this discovery, my future life should have spoken the sincerity of my gratitude. As for that smooth-tongue hypocrite, who would have seduced the wife of his too credulous friend, while he affected honourable addresses to his ward—I behold him now in a light so truly despicable, that I shall never again respect myself for having listened to him.”

This moment is the turning point in Lady Teazle’s character arc, as her insults towards Joseph reflect her perception of Sneerwell’s group as a whole. She realizes that none of these characters care about her, except Peter, who she now knows loves her and wants to provide for her. In the end, she places the blame on herself, as she sees how she was misled into thinking The Destructive Nature of Gossip and Scandal was fashionable.

“JOSEPH SURFACE [Solus]. This is one bad effect of a good character; it invites applications from the unfortunate, and there needs no small degree of address to gain the reputation of benevolence without incurring the expense. This silver one of pure charity is an expensive article in the catalogue of a man’s good qualities; whereas the sentimental French plate I use instead of it makes just as good a show, and pays no tax.”

Though Joseph fails to convince Oliver of his morality, Joseph sees himself as an infallible artist of manipulation and immorality. He explains, to no one, how pretending to be charitable results in the same social boon as actually providing funds to those in need, but it does not cost him anything. Thus far, though, this tactic has worked in Joseph’s favor, as even Peter thinks Joseph is charitable, reinforcing The Discrepancy Between Public Virtue and Private Vice.

“SIR BENJAMIN. I heard nothing of this.

CRABTREE. Sir Peter forced Charles to take one, and they fired, it seems, pretty nearly together. Charles’s shot took place, as I told you, and Sir Peter’s missed; but, what is very extraordinary, the ball struck against a little bronze Pliny that stood over the chimney-piece, grazed out of the window at a right angle, and wounded the postman, who was just coming to the door with a double letter from Northamptonshire.

SIR BENJAMIN. My uncle’s account is more circumstantial, I must confess: but I believe mine is the true one, for all that.”

The critical element of this passage is the detail with which Crabtree discusses the supposed duel. The audience, of course, knows that the duel never happened, and yet Crabtree provides such specific details that it seems he must really know what happened. Even Benjamin, who is equally guilty of making up lies, must admit that Crabtree’s rendition of the fictitious duel sounds convincing. Such details add a level of deviousness to the group’s lies, illustrating The Destructive Nature of Gossip and Scandal.

“JOSEPH SURFACE. But why should your reproaches fall on me for this disappointment?

LADY SNEERWELL. Are you not the cause of it? What had you to do to bate in your pursuit of Maria to pervert Lady Teazle by the way? Had you not a sufficient field for your roguery and blinding Sir Peter, and supplanting your brother? I hate such an avarice of crimes; ‘tis an unfair monopoly, and never prospers.

JOSEPH SURFACE. Well, I admit I have been to blame. I confess I deviated from the direct road of wrong, but I don’t think we’re so totally defeated neither.”

Lady Sneerwell clears up an important element in the narrative by noting that Joseph did not need to seduce Lady Teazle. In fact, seducing Lady Teazle made it more difficult to frame her and Charles as having an affair, and it distracted from Sneerwell and Joseph’s main goal: Getting Joseph and Maria married. This moment is one of the few in which Joseph admits his own mistakes, and he even admits to doing immoral things for fun, which Sneerwell ironically criticizes.

“SIR PETER. Well, well, you have made atonement by a good deed at last.

SNAKE. But I must request of the company, that it shall never be known.

SIR PETER. Hey! what the plague! are you ashamed of having done a right thing once in your life?

SNAKE. Ah, sir,—consider I live by the badness of my character—I have nothing but my infamy to depend on! And, if it were once known that I had been betrayed into an honest action, I should lose every friend I have in the world.”

Snake asks that the crowd not report his good deed, lest it ruin his reputation, which counters the main idea of the play’s portrayal of reputation as something that is only beneficial when it is good. Like Sneerwell, Snake is known for his immorality, and so he has grown dependent on it. At the same time, Snake humorously depicts his good deed as having “been betrayed into an honest action,” implying that he mistakenly did something good while trying to be bad.