progressive than Bubb credits. The argument revolves around the interpretation of his use of ‘nobly’, for whilst Kate’s ‘stoop[ing] to conquer’ involves a relinquishing of ‘noble’ rank, she can otherwise be viewed as behaving ‘nobly’ in the sense of behaving magnanimously to Marlow, in allowing him to express himself more comfortably through her guise as a ‘barmaid’. Whilst Marlow laments ‘the difference of our birth, fortune, and education, [which would] make an honourable connection impossible’, by the play’s ending Marlow is so far enamoured by Kate that – bewildered – he asks whether it can be correct to subdue these feelings to act ‘nobly’ or as society would recommend, bewailing to Kate, ‘Does this look like security? Does this look like confidence? No, madam, every moment that shows me your merit, only serves to increase my diffidence and confusion.’ Kate shows further evidence of employing compromise to harmonious effect in her relationship with Mr Hardcastle, her father: she explains as a reminder to him ‘You know our agreement, sir. You allow me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress inmy own manner; and in the evening, I put on my housewife’s dress to please you.’ Constance Neville (her name a pun on the ‘constancy’ Adam desires of Eve in a manner typical of a laughing comedy) shows throughout the play a stern resolve to act with ‘constancy’ and obedience, using ‘reason’ to overcome her repulsion of Tony by feigning attraction to him so that she might appease Mrs Hardcastle, his mother and her guardian. Constance later exclaims to Mr Hastings, advocating they elope together, that ‘Prudence once more comes to my relief, and I will obey its dictates. In the moment of passion, fortune may be despised, but it ever produces a lasting repentance. I’m resolved to apply to Mr Hardcastle’s compassion and justice for redress’, which contrasts with the hasty ambition of Eve wishing to ‘[seek] trial’, and highlights Constance as one of few characters who seem to pacify the conflict of ‘reason’ and ‘emotion’. espite generic differences, then, there is an undeniablemovement in both texts towards resolution, as Adam and Eve reconcile at the end of Book X and as the characters of She Stoops To Conquer are unified in the sentimental manner of ‘the whining end of a modern novel’, to create a comic denouement. Arguably, this unanticipated conclusiveness can be attributed to the intervention of father figures who pacify the characters to whom they have paternal responsibilities. In Paradise Lost , the severe judgement of God is ‘so bad’ and ‘wicked’ according to Empson that in ‘commiseration’ Adam and Eve are coerced into reconciliation; in Goldsmith’s play, the arrival of Sir Charles Marlow successfully placates an irate Mr Hardcastle, riled by the continued ‘impudence’ and ‘insolence’ of Sir Charles’ son. Mr Hardcastle subsequently dismisses the prior ruckus as just ‘a trifle!’ and turns his ire into jest, mocking Mr Marlow – ‘Tut, boy […] You take it too gravely’ – on account of Sir Marlow’s mollifying presence. In both texts therefore, our ‘little battlefields’ appear to be pacified when in the company of parental figures, who act with a careful balance of ‘reason’ and ‘emotion’, forcing those in conflict with ‘reason’ and ‘emotion’, to reconsider their priorities and actions, to the effect of restoring their equilibrium. Fittingly, in Milton’s epic, this father is harsh and remorseless, yet just, and in Goldsmith’s comedic drama, the father embodies the kind, good-humoured ‘lovable paternalist eccentric’ of which the social historian Roy Porter writes. D
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