In the same way the additions made by the actors to certain of Sheridan’s comedies—­such as Moses’s redundant iterations of “I’ll take my oath of that!” in “The School for Scandal,” and Acres’s misquotation of Sir Lucius’s handwriting:  “To prevent the trouble that might arise from our both undressing the same lady,” in “The Rivals,” are gags of such long standing, that they may date almost from the first production of those works.  Sheridan himself supervised the rehearsals, and took great pains to perfect the representation; but, with other dramatists, he probably found himself much at the mercy of the players.  He even withheld publication of “The School for Scandal,” in order to prevent inadequate performance of the comedy; but this precaution was attended with the worst results.  The stage long suffered from the variety of defective copies of the work that obtained circulation.  The late Mr. John Bernard, the actor, in his amusing “Retrospections of the Stage,” has confessed that, tempted by an addition of ten shillings a-week to his salary, he undertook to compile, in a week, an edition of “The School for Scandal” for the Exeter Theatre, upon the express understanding that the manuscript should be destroyed at the end of the season.  Bernard had three parts in his possession, for upon various occasions he had appeared as Sir Peter, as Charles, and as Sir Benjamin.  Two members of the Exeter company were acquainted with the speeches of Old Rowley, Lady Teazle, and Mrs. Candour, while actors at a distance, upon his request, sent him by post the parts of Joseph and Sir Oliver.  With these materials, assisted by his general knowledge of the play, obtained from his having appeared many times in authentic versions of it, the compiler prepared a fictitious and piratical edition of “The School for Scandal,” which fully served the purpose of the manager, and drew good houses for the remainder of the season.

Altogether, while few writers have done so much for the stage as Sheridan, few have met with less reverent treatment at the hands of the actors.  “The Critic” has long been known in the theatre as a “gag-piece;” that is, a play which the performers consider themselves entitled to treat with the most merciless licence.  In this respect “The Critic” has followed the fate of an earlier work to which it owes much of its origin—­“The Rehearsal,” by the Duke of Buckingham.  It is curious how completely Sheridan’s own satire has escaped its due application.  “This is always the way at the theatre,” says Puff; “give these fellows a good thing and they never know when to have done with it.”  “The Critic” is not very often played nowadays; but every occasion of its revival is disfigured by the freedoms and buffoonery of its representatives.  Modern costume is usually worn by Mr. Puff and his friends; and the anachronism has its excuse, perhaps, in the fact that the satire of the dramatist is as sound and relevant now as it was in the last century.