When describing the nature of Mr Hardcastle’s character, Mrs Hardcastle uses an oxymoron, referring to his “Gothic vivacity” to highlight the duality of his personality. Telling Marlow of her desire for Mr Hardcastle to stop wearing his wig, she says:
But what do you think his answer was? Why, with his usual Gothic vivacity, he said I only wanted him to throw off his wig to convert it into a tête for my own wearing!
Here, the pairing of the descriptors “Gothic” and “vivacity” proves oxymoronic, with the Gothic movement known for its fascination with death, gloom, and the past, while vivacity refers to the quality of being full of life and humor. The conflict between these two qualities speaks to the duality of Mr Hardcastle’s personality. While he is presented as a traditionalist who dismisses the frivolity of modern fashions and reveres the past, he is also shown to be good-natured and humorous, especially at the end of the play where he takes the trick on Marlow in good humor.
Indeed, duality proves to be a key theme throughout the play, with deception a key plot device and multiple characters showing they have more than one side to their personalities. Goldsmith’s frequent use of oxymoron and paradox throughout the play is thus a natural choice.
In Act 5, Hardcastle refers to Marlow’s “modest impudence,” an oxymoron which extends the play’s exploration of duality and hypocrisy. Frustrated by Marlow—who claims not to be in love with Hardcastle’s daughter, not yet realizing the woman he has been impressed by is Kate—Hardcastle vents in an aside:
MARLOW. But why won’t you hear me? By all that’s just and true, I never gave Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was formal, modest, and uninteresting.
HARDCASTLE (Aside). This fellow’s formal modest impudence is beyond bearing.
Here the pairing of “modest” and “impudence” forms an oxymoron, with modesty referring to someone with a low sense of self-importance and impudence to someone with a high sense of self-importance. Both these words come up frequently in the play, with both Marlow and Hardcastle thinking of themselves as modest but each other as impudent. This conflict arises from the central theme of mistaken identity, with Marlow mistaking Hardcastle as an innkeeper rather than his father’s reputable and upper-class friend, meaning he treats him as a servant and with very little respect. However, when Marlow later realizes his mistake, he immediately becomes extremely embarrassed and humble. The duality represented by the oxymoron “modest impudence” thus comes to fit Marlow very well, as it's possible for him to be both these things at once.
However, the very fact that Marlow so quickly flits between modesty and impudence, depending on his perception of who he is around, also speaks to the play’s exploration of performative identity and class. That Marlow so willingly treats Hardcastle disrespectfully when thinking he is an innkeeper shows him to be impudent after all, with his modesty at the end consequently appearing performative. Indeed, in an ironic twist, Marlow unwittingly attests to this with one of his earlier comments. In Act 2, he talks about how difficult he finds it to speak confidently with “women of reputation”:
MARLOW: An impudent fellow may counterfeit modesty; but I’ll be hanged if a modest man can ever counterfeit impudence.
By the end of the play, the audience can see that what Marlow says is true, but while he counts himself a modest man, he proves more akin to the former: an impudent fellow who is easily able to counterfeit modesty. Tony’s deception of Marlow thus ends up uncovering parts of his true identity, and in doing so, it alludes to one of the play’s central ironies, that truth may arise from deceit.
In Act 5, Hardcastle refers to Marlow’s “modest impudence,” an oxymoron which extends the play’s exploration of duality and hypocrisy. Frustrated by Marlow—who claims not to be in love with Hardcastle’s daughter, not yet realizing the woman he has been impressed by is Kate—Hardcastle vents in an aside:
MARLOW. But why won’t you hear me? By all that’s just and true, I never gave Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was formal, modest, and uninteresting.
HARDCASTLE (Aside). This fellow’s formal modest impudence is beyond bearing.
Here the pairing of “modest” and “impudence” forms an oxymoron, with modesty referring to someone with a low sense of self-importance and impudence to someone with a high sense of self-importance. Both these words come up frequently in the play, with both Marlow and Hardcastle thinking of themselves as modest but each other as impudent. This conflict arises from the central theme of mistaken identity, with Marlow mistaking Hardcastle as an innkeeper rather than his father’s reputable and upper-class friend, meaning he treats him as a servant and with very little respect. However, when Marlow later realizes his mistake, he immediately becomes extremely embarrassed and humble. The duality represented by the oxymoron “modest impudence” thus comes to fit Marlow very well, as it's possible for him to be both these things at once.
However, the very fact that Marlow so quickly flits between modesty and impudence, depending on his perception of who he is around, also speaks to the play’s exploration of performative identity and class. That Marlow so willingly treats Hardcastle disrespectfully when thinking he is an innkeeper shows him to be impudent after all, with his modesty at the end consequently appearing performative. Indeed, in an ironic twist, Marlow unwittingly attests to this with one of his earlier comments. In Act 2, he talks about how difficult he finds it to speak confidently with “women of reputation”:
MARLOW: An impudent fellow may counterfeit modesty; but I’ll be hanged if a modest man can ever counterfeit impudence.
By the end of the play, the audience can see that what Marlow says is true, but while he counts himself a modest man, he proves more akin to the former: an impudent fellow who is easily able to counterfeit modesty. Tony’s deception of Marlow thus ends up uncovering parts of his true identity, and in doing so, it alludes to one of the play’s central ironies, that truth may arise from deceit.
