The same welcome anomaly is noticed now, when the actresses who play the women of the "hupper circles" with the greatest delicacy and keenness of touch are frequently the products of the lower or middle class. On the other hand, the dame de société who trips lightly from the drawing-room to the stage, amid the blare of trumpets and the excitement of her friends, usually fails to make a mark. To be sure, several of them have made marks—very black ones.
Now let us turn the pages of the "Careless Husband," as we scan them in Lowndes's "British Theatre," and see if we cannot extract some amusement therefrom. The scene opens in the lodgings of Sir Charles Easy, who, like many other dramatic personages of the eighteenth century, has a name that signifies his character. Easy, Sir Charles is in every sense of the word, particularly easy as to morals, for the possession of a lovely wife does not prevent him from prosecuting an amour with a woman of quality, Lady Graveairs, or having a vulgar intrigue with the maid of his own spouse. In fine, he is a right amiable gentleman, according to the curious standards of long ago; a very prince of good fellows, who in these days would pass for a cad.
We are hardly begun with the comedy before we are introduced to this paragon, who enters just after Lady Easy and the maid, Edging, have discovered fresh proofs of his flirtation with Lady Graveairs. Charles is inclined to be philosophical in a blasé, tired way, and he says: "How like children do we judge of happiness! When I was stinted in my fortune almost everything was a pleasure to me, because most things then being out of my reach, I had always the pleasure of hoping for 'em; now fortune's in my hand she's as insipid as an old acquaintance. It's mighty silly, faith, just the same thing by my wife, too; I am told she's extremely handsome [as though the sad devil didn't know it], nay, and have heard a great many people say she is certainly the best woman in the world—why, I don't know but she may, yet I could never find that her person or good qualities gave me any concern. In my eye, the woman has no more charms than my mother"—and we may be sure that Sir Charles had never bothered himself much about the attractions of the last named lady.
Then the fair Edging comes to centre of stage and the following innocent dialogue ensues:
* * * * *
"EDGING. Hum—he takes no notice of me yet—I'll let him see I can take as little notice of him. [She walks by him gravely, he turns her about and holds her; she struggles.] Pray, sir!
"SIR CHARLES. A pretty pert air that—I'll humour it—what's the matter, child—are you not well? Kiss me, hussy.
"EDGING. No, the deuce fetch me if I do. [Here was a model servant, of course.]
"SIR CHARLES. Has anything put thee out of humour, love?
"EDGING. No, sir, 'tis not worthy my being out of humour at … don't you suffer my lady to huff me every day as if I were her dog, or had no more concern with you—I declare I won't bear it and she shan't think to huff me. For aught I know I am as agreeable as she; and though she dares not take any notice of your baseness to her, you shan't think to use me so—"