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Inchbald, Elizabeth. 'Preface on the First Publication of Lovers' Vows.' British Women Playwrights around 1800. 15 January 2000. 16 pars. <http://www.etang.umontreal.ca/bwp1800/essays/inchbald_lovers_intro.html>
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This text is taken from Lovers' Vows (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1796) pp. 3-10.
Copyright © Contributor, 2000-2008. This essay is protected under
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| 1. |
It would appear like affectation to offer an apology for any scenes or passages
omitted or added in this play, different from the original;
its reception has given me confidence to suppose what I have
done is right; for Kotzebue's "Child.of Love," in Germany, was never more attractive than "Lovers' Vows" has been in England.
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| 2. |
I could trouble my reader with many pages to disclose the motives which induced
me to alter, with the exception of a few common-place sentences
only, the characters of Count Cassel, Amelia, and Verdun the
butler. I could explain why the part of the Count, as in the
original, would have inevitably condemned the whole play: I
could inform my reader why I have pourtrayed the Baron, in
many particulars, different from the German author, and carefully
prepared the audience for the grand effect of the last scene
in the fourth act, by totally changing his conduct towards
his son, as a robber—why I gave sentences of a humorous kind to the parts of the two Cottagers; why
I was compelled, on many occasions, to compress the matter
of a speech of three or four pages, into one of three or four
lines; and why, in no one instance, I would suffer my respect
for Kotzebue to interfere with my profound respect for the
judgment of a British audience. But I flatter myself such a
vindication is not requisite to the enlightened reader, who,
I trust, on comparing this drama with the original, will, at
once, see all my motives; and the dull admirer of mere verbal
translation, it would be in vain to endeavour to inspire with
taste by instruction. |
| 3. |
Wholly unacquainted with the German language, a literal translation of the "Child of Love" was given to me by the manager of Covent-Garden Theatre, to be fitted, as my
opinion should direct, for his stage. This translation, tedious
and vapid, as most literal translations are, had the peculiar
advantage of having been put into our language by a German;
of course, it came to me in broken English. It was no slight
misfortune to have an example of bad grammar, false metaphors
and similies, with all the usual errors of feminine diction,
placed before a female writer. But if, disdaining the construction
of sentences, the precise decorum of the cold grammarian,
she has caught the spirit of her author; if, in every altered
scene, still adhering to the nice propriety of his meaning,
and still keeping in view his great catastrophe, she has
agitated her audience with all the various passions he depicted,
the rigid criticism of the closet will be but a slender abatement
of the pleasure resulting from the sanction of an applauding
theatre.
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| 4. |
It has not been one of the least gratifications I have received from the success
of this play, that the original German, from which it is taken,
was printed in the year 1791; and yet, that during all the
period which has intervened, no person of talents or literary
knowledge (though there are in this country many of that description,
who profess to search for German dramas,) has thought it worth
employment to make a translation of the work. I can only account
for such an apparent neglect of Kotzebue's "Child of Love," by the consideration of its original unfitness for an English stage, and the
difficulty of making it otherwise; a difficulty which once
appeared so formidable, that I seriously thought I must have
declined it, even after I had proceeded some length in the
undertaking. |
| 5. |
Independently of objections to the character of the Count, the dangerous insignificance
of the butler, in the original, embarrassed me much. I found,
if he was retained in the Dramatis Persona, something more must be supplied than the author had assigned him: I suggested
the verses I have introduced; but not being blessed with
the butler's happy art of rhyming, I am indebted for them,
except the seventh and eleventh stanzas in the first of his
poetic stories, to the author of the prologue.
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| 6. |
The part of Amelia has been a very particular object of my solicitude and alteration;
the same situations which the author gave her remain, but almost
all the dialogue of the character I have changed: the forward
and unequivocal manner in which she announces her affection
to her lover in the original, would have been revolting to
an English audience: the passion of love, represented on the
stage, is certain to be insipid or disgusting, unless it creates
smiles or tears: Amelia's love, by Kotzebue, is indelicately
blunt, and yet void of mirth or sadness. I have endeavoured
to attach the attention and sympathy of the audience by whimsical
insinuations, rather than coarse abruptness—the same woman, I conceive, whom the author drew, with the self-same sentiments,
but with manners adapted to the English, rather than the German
taste; and if the favour in which this character is held by
the audience, together with every. sentence and incident which
I have presumed to introduce in the play, may be offered as
the criterion of my skill, I am sufficiently rewarded for the
task I have performed. |
| 7. |
In stating the foregoing circumstances relating to this production, I hope not
to be suspected of arrogating to my own exertions only, the
popularity which has attended "The Child of Love," under the title of "Lovers' Vows:"—the exertions of every performer engaged in the play deservedly claim a share
in its success; and I most sincerely thank them for the high
importance of their aid. |
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Remarks
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| 8. |
PLAYS, founded on German dramas, have long been a subject both of ridicule and
of serious animadversion. Ridicule is a jocund slanderer; and
who does not love to be merry? but the detraction that is dull,
is inexcusable calumny.
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| 9. |
The grand moral of this play is to set forth the miserable consequences which
arise from the neglect, and to enforce the watchful care, of
illegitimate offspring; and surely, as the pulpit has not had
eloquence to eradicate the crime of seduction, the stage may
be allowed an humble endeavour to prevent its most fatal effects. |
| 10. |
But there are some pious declaimers against theatrical exhibitions; so zealous
to do good, they grudge the poor dramatist his share in the
virtuous concern. |
| 11. |
Not furnished with one plea throughout four acts of "Lovers' Vows" for accusation, those critics arraign its catastrophe, and say,—"the wicked should be punished."—They forget there is a punishment called conscience, which, though it seldom troubles the defamer's peace, may weigh heavy on the
fallen female and her libertine seducer. |
| 12. |
But as a probationary prelude to the supposed happiness of the frail personages
of this drama, the author has plunged the offender, Agatha,
in bitterest poverty and wo; which she receives as a contrite
penitent, atoning for her sins. The Baron Wildenhaim, living
in power and splendour, is still more rigorously visited by
remorse; and, in the reproaches uttered by his outcast son,
(become, by the father's criminal disregard of his necessities,
a culprit, subject to death by the law,) the Baron's guilt
has sure exemplary chastisement. But yet, after all the varied
anguish of his mind, should tranquillity promise, at length,
to crown his future days, where is the immorality? If holy
books teach that the wicked too often prosper, why are plays
to be withheld from inculcating the self-same doctrine? Not
that a worldly man would class it amongst the prosperous events
of life, to be (like the Baron) compelled to marry his cast-off
mistress, after twenty years absence. |
| 13. |
It may not here be wholly useless to observe, that, in the scene in the fourth
act, just mentioned, between the Baron and his son, the actor
who plays, Frederick, too frequently forms his notion of the
passion he is to pourtray through the interview, from the following
lines at the end of one of his speeches: "And, when he dies, a funeral sermon will praise his great benevolence, his Christian
charities." The sarcasm here to be expressed, should be evinced in no one sentence else.
Where, in a preceding speech, he says, the Baron is "a man, kind, generous, beloved by his tenants;" he certainly means this to be his character Frederick is not ironical, except by accident. Irony and
sarcasm do not appertain to youth: open, plain, downright habits,
are the endearing qualities of the young. Moreover, a son,
urged by cruel injuries, may upbraid his father even to rage,
and the audience will yet feel interest for them both; but
if he contemn or deride him, all respect is lost, both for
the one and the other. |
| 14. |
The passions which take possession of this young soldier's heart, when admitted
to the presence of the Baron, knowing him to be his father,
are various; but scorn is not amongst the number. Awe gives
the first sensation, and is subdued by pride; filial tenderness
would next force its way, and is overwhelmed by anger. These
passions strive in his breast, till grief for his mother's
wrongs, and his own ignominious state, burst all restraint;
and as fury drives him to the point of distraction, he changes
his accents to a tone of irony, in the lines just quoted. |
| 15. |
"Oh! there be actors I have seen, and heard others praise, who (not to speak it
profanely) have" scornfully sneered at their father through this whole scene, and yet been highly
applauded. |
| 16. |
While it is the fashion to see German plays, both the German and the English
author will patiently bear the displeasure of a small party
of critics, as the absolute conditions on which they enjoy
popularity. Nor, till the historian is forbid to tell how
tyrants have success in vanquishing nations, or the artist
be compelled to paint the beauteous courtezan with hideous
features, as the emblem of her mind shall the free dramatist
be untrue to his science; which, like theirs, is to follow
nature through all her rightful course. Deception, beyond
the result of genuine imitative art, he will disclaim, and
say with Shakspeare to the self-approving zealot,
"Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometimes by action dignified." |
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Elizabeth Inchbald |
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