William Wycherley: Love in a Wood (1671)

Ranger and Lydia in William Wycherley's Love in a Wood (1671)

Love in a Wood isn't performed nearly as often as it merits and I couldn't find any stills, so I made my own illustration, incompetently pilfering Sir Peter Lely (Lydia is based on the beauty in "The Music Lesson", Ranger on Lely's portrait of William Wycherley himself).

Lydia and Ranger are one of the five very distinct couples with which the play ends, and I may as well start with this pair. But immediately I realise I've made a stupid mistake, because Lydia ought to be wearing mourning. We never learn why, but it's relevant to Wycherley's wonderfully intricate plot: Lydia tricks Ranger into mistaking her for Christina, who's also in mourning. (The trick backfires on her.)

When we first meet Ranger, drinking at the French House* with Vincent and Dapperwit, he's briefly called away to a lady in a coach; returning, he says: 

Ran. I have had just now a visit from my mistress, who is as jealous of me as a wife of her husband when she lies in:—my cousin Lydia,—you have heard me speak of her.

Vin. But she is more troublesome than a wife that lies in, because she follows you to your haunts. Why do you allow her that privilege before her time?

Ran. Faith, I may allow her any privilege, and be too hard for her yet. How do you think I have cheated her to-night?—Women are poor credulous creatures, easily deceived.

Vin. We are poor credulous creatures, when we think 'em so.

Ran. Intending a ramble to St. James's Park to-night, upon some probable hopes of some fresh game I have in chase, I appointed her to stay at home; with a promise to come to her within this hour, that she might not spoil the scent and prevent my sport.

Vin. She'll be even with you when you are married, I warrant you. 

(Act I Scene 2)

["Mistress" as used by the men is about as vague in its meanings as "girlfriend"; intentionally so, to preserve the atmosphere of masculine freedom and sexual boasting. In this case, the respectable Lydia is evidently Ranger's fiancée. (Whereas the reputation of young Lucy, Dapperwit's "mistress", is more in question; at the end Dapperwit's outraged that Gripe should outsmart him by marrying Lucy, his former "wench".)]

[* Probably Chatelain's French House in Covent Garden. It's about a 20 minute walk from there to St James's Park. Evidently Ranger has no intention of keeping his appointment with Lydia.]

Though engaged to be married, Ranger still wants his sexual adventures, at least for now. Lydia wants to keep tabs on him. Each plays tricks on the other; Lydia isn't taken in by this one, contrary to Ranger's belief in the credulity of women. 

On the whole the pair seem pretty well matched. Of the five couples at the end, they're one of the more hopeful prospects. I'd give them six months at least: not because Ranger has forsworn his rakish adventuring -- that's as maybe --, but because they intrigue with equal enthusiasm, they seem to understand each other, and they're both able to compromise. 

If you've ever surrendered to the fascinations of Love Island or Made In Chelsea or MAFS you'll recognize this kind of discussion. Love in a Wood has something in common with that kind of show. 

To be honest, we don't care very deeply about the post-show futures of the participants. What we relish is the behaviour, the dynamics, the untruths and awkward moments that unfold before our eyes. We love it when people talk behind each other's back, like Dapperwit while Ranger is downstairs.

Dap. This Ranger, Mr. Vincent, is as false to his friend as his wench.

Vin. You have no reason to say so, but because he is absent.

Dap. 'Tis disobliging to tell a man of his faults to his face. If he had but your grave parts and manly wit, I should adore him; but, a pox! he is a mere buffoon, a jack-pudding, let me perish!

(Act I Scene 2)

And we love it when people get to hear what their partners say about them, as when Lydia overhears Ranger saying this sort of thing to Christina:

Ran. .... Besides, I would not for the world have given her troublesome love so much encouragement, to have disturbed my future addresses to you; for the foolish woman does perpetually torment me to make our relation nearer ....

Ran. If she were here, she would satisfy you she were not capable of the honour to be taken for you:—though in the dark. Faith, my cousin is but a tolerable woman to a man that had not seen you.

(Act 2 Scene 2)

And we love that delicious moment when someone blatantly caught in the wrong tries to work out exactly how much the other person knows:

Ran. Indeed, cousin, besides my business, another cause I did not wait on you was, my apprehension you were gone to the Park, notwithstanding your promise to the contrary.

Lyd. Therefore, you went to the Park to visit me there, notwithstanding your promise to the contrary?

Ran. Who, I at the Park! when I had promised to wait upon you at your lodging! But were you at the Park, madam?

Lyd. Who, I at the Park! when I had promised to wait for you at home! I was no more at the Park than you were. Were you at the Park?

Ran. The Park had been a dismal desert to me, notwithstanding all the good company in it, if I had wanted yours.

Lyd. [Aside.] Because it has been the constant endeavour of men to keep women ignorant, they think us so; but 'tis that increases our inquisitiveness, and makes us know them ignorant as false. ...

(Act III Scene 3)

(Ranger's rapid calculations go something like this: She knows I broke my promise to visit her at her home, but she can't be sure I went to the Park... unless she was at the Park herself and saw me .... but if she was, then she also broke her promise to me ....)

Meanwhile Lydia, holding back from outright confrontation, at least gets some revenge for those overheard comments: 

Lyd. [to Dapperwit] Take him with you, sir. I suppose his business may be there to borrow, or win, money, and I ought not to be his hindrance; for when he has none, he has his desperate designs upon that little I have -- for want of money makes as devout lovers as Christians. 

Dap. I hope, madam, he offers you no less security than his liberty.

Lyd. His liberty! As poor a pawn to take up money on, as honour. He is like the desperate bankrupts of this age, who, if they can get people's fortunes into their hands, care not though they spend them in jail, all their lives.

(Act III Scene 3)

*

Let's briefly run an eye over those other couples:

Christina and Valentine. The posh pair, who look like they've stepped out of a heroic tragedy. Christina is simply a jewel. But let's hope that Valentine learns to master his jealousy and propensity for violence. 

Dapperwit and Martha. Dapperwit is a self-conscious wit, all the funnier because he's not actually very good at it, though he can certainly manage slander, lying and selfishness. And, with all that, a certain winning childishness. "A pox, I think women take inconstancy from me, worse than from any man breathing," he remarks at one point. Unceremoniously dumped by Lucy, he thinks he's struck gold when Martha is all over him; she's the only daughter of the aged and wealthy alderman Gripe. Then he learns that Martha is only marrying him because she's six months pregnant...

Gripe and Lucy .... and besides, the miserly old puritan instantly determines to marry young Lucy to prevent Martha inheriting his money. Secondary benefit, he obtains the object of his lecherous desires. Third benefit, he gets to reclaim all the money he previously had to pay Lucy to avoid a court case for assault. Lucy, willingly embracing a hard-nosed approach to life, wins big for her rapacious mother Mrs Crossbite and the seedy fixer Mrs Joyner. 

Sir Simon Addleplot and Lady Flippant. There's precious little enthusiasm on either side for this match, and that's before they learn the state of each other's finances. At least these two incompetent players in the marriage market have finally found someone they're capable of deceiving. They're both very funny, though. The widowed Lady Flippant's method is to haunt fashionable meeting places and take every opportunity to state how opposed she is to marriage. Sir Simon plumes himself on his Macchiavellian pursuit of two women, all the while adopting a clownish disguise that haplessly reveals his true character. 

*

I've now mentioned twelve of the main roles. There's one more: Mr Vincent, the pot-companion of Ranger and Dapperwit, and the friend of Valentine. He attracts our attention (more than he should?) because he's the one major character who has no stake in the game, either sexual or financial. And because his good sense is very much needed by his fellows. 

Dominic F. Martia argues that Vincent is placed in contrast to Mrs Joyner: he is a virtuous enabler who assists others, not to line his purse but from true friendship and principle. There's a lot to be said for this idea, but in the earlier part of the play there are distinct hints of a more mixed picture. He's a "good-fellow" (II.1), characterized by his fondness for a bottle or three. There are also hints that his relations with women are troubled, that he doesn't talk to them easily (anyway not without a drink) and that he sometimes raises his fists. (Some of this is Dapperwit's trash-talking, but not all.) If Vincent is admirably discreet and unjudgmental, if he deprecates airing others' dirty linen, it's maybe because he has plenty of his own.

Here as elsewhere Love in a Wood blithely sketches a London in which dazzle and squalor don't just coexist but are intertwined. It's celebratory in form, but its darker shadows are a crucial part of the picture.

[Dominic F. Martia, The Restoration Love Ethos and the Representation of Love in the Plays of William Wycherley, PhD dissertation (Loyola University, 1972). https://ecommons.luc.edu/luc_diss/1207 . Lively, informative and full of good ideas: recommended!]

*

Love in a Wood, William Wycherley's first play, was first performed during Lent (Feb-Mar) in 1671, at the first Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. It was published in 1672 (or perhaps late 1671). 

Online text of Love in a Wood:

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/55426/55426-h/55426-h.htm

This is W.C. Ward's 1893 edition of Wycherley's plays. Be warned, Ward numbers the scenes differently from the 1996 Oxford edition of Wycherley's plays by Peter Dixon that I've referenced here. 

Dixon's notes are a treasure trove; I just wish he'd added one on the play's opening speech.

Lady Flip. Not a husband to be had for money!—Come, come, I might have been a better housewife for myself, as the world goes now, if I had dealt for an heir with his guardian, uncle, or mother-in-law; and you are no better than a chouse, a cheat.

(Act I Scene 1)

Am I the only person who has no idea what Lady Flippant means by "dealt for an heir with his guardian," etc ?

*

The two emblematically confusing night-scenes in St James's Park are surrounded by scenes in nearby locations: the play is lovingly organized as a kind of gazetteer of fashionable London. The settings are:

I.1 Gripe's house in the evening (in the City)

I.2 The French House (Covent Garden -- evening)

II.1 St James's Park at night

II.2 Christina's lodging (in the "Old Pall Mall", i.e. the street called Pall Mall -- after midnight)

II.3 The street outside (Pall Mall -- night)

II.4 Vincent's lodging (near Pall Mall -- night)

III.1 Mrs Crossbite's house (in an obscure retired street -- or alley -- the next morning)

III.2 Mrs Crossbite's dining room

III.3 Lydia's lodging (the location isn't specific, but it seems to be near Covent Garden)

IV.1 Gripe's house

IV.2 Another room in Gripe's house 

IV.3 The Old Pall Mall (i.e. Pall Mall -- about 19:30)

IV.4 Vincent's lodging (near Pall Mall -- about 20:00)

V.1 St James's Park (at night)

V.2 The dining room at Mulberry Garden House (at the west end of St James's Park -- night).

*

A post about the Mulberry Garden, mentioned several times in Love in a Wood and the location of its final scene (gracefully glancing at the secondary meaning of the title, which primarily means "love in a state of confusion"):

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2024/04/mulberry-garden.html