CHAPTER XVI.

[Illustration: Ad Lalauze, sc]

_The Author steps out of his Way. Pleads his Theatrical Cause

in Chancery. Carries it. Plays acted at_ Hampton-Court.

_Theatrical Anecdotes in former Reigns. Ministers and Menagers

always censur'd. The Difficulty of supplying the Stage with

good Actors consider'd. Courtiers and Comedians govern'd by

the same Passions. Examples of both. The Author quits the

Stage. Why._

Having brought the Government of the Stage through such various Changes

and Revolutions, to this settled State in which it continued to almost

the Time of my leaving it;[148] it cannot be suppos'd that a Period of

so much Quiet and so long a Train of Success (though happy for those who

enjoy'd it) can afford such Matter of Surprize or Amusement, as might

arise from Times of more Distress and Disorder. A quiet Time in History,

like a Calm in a Voyage, leaves us but in an indolent Station: To talk

of our Affairs when they were no longer ruffled by Misfortunes, would be

a Picture without Shade, a flat Performance at best. As I might,

therefore, throw all that tedious Time of our Tranquillity into one

Chasm in my History, and cut my Way short at once to my last Exit from

the Stage, I shall at least fill it up with such Matter only as I have a

mind should be known,[149] how few soever may have Patience to read it:

Yet, as I despair not of some Readers who may be most awake when they

think others have most occasion to sleep; who may be more pleas'd to

find me languid than lively, or in the wrong than in the right; why

should I scruple (when it is so easy a Matter too) to gratify their

particular Taste by venturing upon any Error that I like, or the

Weakness of my Judgment misleads me to commit? I think, too, I have a

very good Chance for my Success in this passive Ambition, by shewing

myself in a Light I have not been seen in.

By your Leave then, Gentlemen! let the Scene open, and at once discover

your Comedian at the Bar! There you will find him a Defendant, and

pleading his own Theatrical Cause in a Court of _Chancery_: But, as I

chuse to have a Chance of pleasing others as well as of indulging you,

Gentlemen; I must first beg leave to open my Case to them; after which

my whole Speech upon that Occasion shall be at your Mercy.

In all the Transactions of Life, there cannot be a more painful

Circumstance, than a Dispute at Law with a Man with whom we have long

liv'd in an agreeable Amity: But when Sir _Richard Steele_, to get

himself out of Difficulties, was oblig'd to throw his Affairs into the

Hands of Lawyers and Trustees, that Consideration, then, could be of no

weight: The Friend, or the Gentleman, had no more to do in the Matter!

Thus, while Sir _Richard_ no longer acted from himself, it may be no

Wonder if a Flaw was found in our Conduct for the Law to make Work with.

It must be observed, then, that about two or three Years before this

Suit was commenc'd, upon Sir _Richard_'s totally absenting himself from

all Care and Menagement of the Stage (which by our Articles of

Partnership he was equally and jointly oblig'd with us to attend) we

were reduc'd to let him know that we could not go on at that Rate; but

that if he expected to make the Business a _sine-Cure_, we had as much

Reason to expect a Consideration for our extraordinary Care of it; and

that during his Absence we therefore intended to charge our selves at a

Sallary of 1_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ every acting Day (unless he could shew us

Cause to the contrary) for our Menagement: To which, in his compos'd

manner, he only answer'd; That to be sure we knew what was fitter to be

done than he did; that he had always taken a Delight in making us easy,

and had no Reason to doubt of our doing him Justice. Now whether, under

this easy Stile of Approbation, he conceal'd any Dislike of our

Resolution, I cannot say. But, if I may speak my private Opinion, I

really believe, from his natural Negligence of his Affairs, he was glad,

at any rate, to be excus'd an Attendance which he was now grown weary

of. But, whether I am deceiv'd or right in my Opinion, the Fact was

truly this, that he never once, directly nor indirectly, complain'd or

objected to our being paid the above-mention'd daily Sum in near three

Years together; and yet still continued to absent himself from us and

our Affairs. But notwithstanding he had seen and done all this with his

Eyes open; his Lawyer thought here was still a fair Field for a Battle

in Chancery, in which, though his Client might be beaten, he was sure

his Bill must be paid for it: Accordingly, to work with us he went.

But, not to be so long as the Lawyers were in bringing this Cause to an

Issue, I shall at once let you know, that it came to a Hearing before

the late Sir _Joseph Jekyll_, then Master of the Rolls, in the Year

1726.[150] Now, as the chief Point in dispute was, of what Kind or

Importance the Business of a Menager was, or in what it principally

consisted; it could not be suppos'd that the most learned Council could

be so well appriz'd of the Nature of it, as one who had himself gone

through the Care and Fatigue of it. I was therefore encourag'd by our

Council to speak to that particular Head myself; which I confess I was

glad he suffer'd me to undertake; but when I tell you that two of the

learned Council against us came afterwards to be successively

Lord-Chancellors, it sets my Presumption in a Light that I still tremble

to shew it in: But however, not to assume more Merit from its Success

than was really its Due, I ought fairly to let you know, that I was not

so hardy as to deliver my Pleading without Notes, in my Hand, of the

Heads I intended to enlarge upon; for though I thought I could conquer

my Fear, I could not be so sure of my Memory: But when it came to the

critical Moment, the Dread and Apprehension of what I had undertaken so

disconcerted my Courage, that though I had been us'd to talk to above

Fifty Thousand different People every Winter, for upwards of Thirty

Years together; an involuntary and unaffected Proof of my Confusion fell

from my Eyes; and, as I found myself quite out of my Element, I seem'd

rather gasping for Life than in a condition to cope with the eminent

Orators against me. But, however, I soon found, from the favourable

Attention of my Hearers, that my Diffidence had done me no Disservice:

And as the Truth I was to speak to needed no Ornament of Words, I

delivered it in the plain manner following, _viz._

In this Cause, Sir, I humbly conceive there are but two Points that

admit of any material Dispute. The first is, Whether Sir _Richard

Steele_ is as much obliged to do the Duty and Business of a Menager as

either _Wilks_, _Booth_, or _Cibber_: And the second is, Whether by Sir

_Richard_'s totally withdrawing himself from the Business of a Menager,

the Defendants are justifiable in charging to each of themselves the

1_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ _per Diem_ for their particular Pains and Care in

carrying on the whole Affairs of the Stage without any Assistance from

Sir _Richard Steele_.

As to the First, if I don't mistake the Words of the Assignment, there

is a Clause in it that says, All Matters relating to the Government or

Menagement of the Theatre shall be concluded by a Majority of Voices.

Now I presume, Sir, there is no room left to alledge that Sir _Richard_

was ever refused his Voice, though in above three Years he never desir'd

to give it: And I believe there will be as little room to say, that he

could have a Voice if he were not a Menager. But, Sir, his being a

Menager is so self-evident, that it is amazing how he could conceive

that he was to take the Profits and Advantages of a Menager without

doing the Duty of it. And I will be bold to say, Sir, that his

Assignment of the Patent to _Wilks_, _Booth_, and _Cibber_, in no one

Part of it, by the severest Construction in the World, can be wrested to

throw the heavy Burthen of the Menagement only upon their Shoulders. Nor

does it appear, Sir, that either in his Bill, or in his Answer to our

Cross-Bill, he has offer'd any Hint, or Glimpse of a Reason, for his

withdrawing from the Menagement at all; or so much as pretend, from the

time complained of, that he ever took the least Part of his Share of it.

Now, Sir, however unaccountable this Conduct of Sir _Richard_ may seem,

we will still allow that he had some Cause for it; but whether or no

that Cause was a reasonable one your Honour will the better judge, if I

may be indulged in the Liberty of explaining it.

Sir, the Case, in plain Truth and Reality, stands thus: Sir _Richard_,

though no Man alive can write better of Oeconomy than himself, yet,

perhaps, he is above the Drudgery of practising it: Sir _Richard_, then,

was often in want of Money; and while we were in Friendship with him, we

often assisted his Occasions: But those Compliances had so unfortunate

an Effect, that they only heightened his Importunity to borrow more, and

the more we lent, the less he minded us, or shew'd any Concern for our

Welfare. Upon this, Sir, we stopt our Hands at once, and peremptorily

refus'd to advance another Shilling 'till by the Balance of our Accounts

it became due to him. And this Treatment (though, we hope, not in the

least unjustifiable) we have Reason to believe so ruffled his Temper,

that he at once was as short with us as we had been with him; for, from

that Day, he never more came near us: Nay, Sir, he not only continued to

neglect what he _should_ have done, but actually did what he ought _not_

to have done: He made an Assignment of his Share without our Consent, in

a manifest Breach of our Agreement: For, Sir, we did not lay that

Restriction upon ourselves for no Reason: We knew, before-hand, what

Trouble and Inconvenience it would be to unravel and expose our Accounts

to Strangers, who, if they were to do us no hurt by divulging our

Secrets, we were sure could do us no good by keeping them. If Sir

_Richard_ had had our common Interest at heart, he would have been as

warm in it as we were, and as tender of hurting it: But supposing his

assigning his Share to others may have done us no great Injury, it is,

at least, a shrewd Proof that he did not care whether it did us any or

no. And if the Clause was not strong enough to restrain him from it in

Law, there was enough in it to have restrain'd him in Honour from

breaking it. But take it in its best Light, it shews him as remiss a

Menager in our Affairs as he naturally was in his own. Suppose, Sir, we

had all been as careless as himself, which I can't find he has any more

Right to be than we have, must not our whole Affair have fallen to Ruin?

And may we not, by a parity of Reason, suppose, that by his Neglect a

fourth Part of it _does_ fall to Ruin? But, Sir, there is a particular

Reason to believe, that, from our want of Sir _Richard_, more than a

fourth Part _does_ suffer by it: His Rank and Figure in the World, while

he gave us the Assistance of them, were of extraordinary Service to us:

He had an easier Access, and a more regarded Audience at Court, than our

low Station of Life could pretend to, when our Interest wanted (as

it often did) a particular Solicitation there. But since we have been

deprived of him, the very End, the very Consideration of his Share

in our Profits is not perform'd on his Part. And will Sir _Richard_,

then, make us no Compensation for so valuable a Loss in our Interests,

and so palpable an Addition to our Labour? I am afraid, Sir, if we were

all to be as indolent in the Menaging-Part as Sir _Richard_ presumes he

has a Right to be; our Patent would soon run us as many Hundreds in

Debt, as he had (and still seems willing to have) his Share of, for

doing of nothing.

Sir, our next Point in question is whether _Wilks_, _Booth_, and

_Cibber_ are justifiable in charging the 1_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ _per diem_

for their extraordinary Menagement in the Absence of Sir _Richard

Steele_. I doubt, Sir, it will be hard to come to the Solution of this

Point, unless we may be a little indulg'd in setting forth what is the

daily and necessary Business and Duty of a Menager. But, Sir, we will

endeavour to be as short as the Circumstances will admit of.

Sir, by our Books it is apparent that the Menagers have under their Care

no less than One Hundred and Forty Persons in constant daily Pay: And

among such Numbers, it will be no wonder if a great many of them are

unskilful, idle, and sometimes untractable; all which Tempers are to be

led, or driven, watch'd, and restrain'd by the continual Skill, Care,

and Patience of the Menagers. Every Menager is oblig'd, in his turn, to

attend two or three Hours every Morning at the Rehearsal of Plays and

other Entertainments for the Stage, or else every Rehearsal would be but

a rude Meeting of Mirth and Jollity. The same Attendance is as necessary

at every Play during the time of its publick Action, in which one or

more of us have constantly been punctual, whether we have had any part

in the Play then acted or not. A Menager ought to be at the Reading of

every new Play when it is first offer'd to the Stage, though there are

seldom one of those Plays in twenty which, upon hearing, proves to be

fit for it; and upon such Occasions the Attendance must be allow'd to be

as painfully tedious as the getting rid of the Authors of such Plays

must be disagreeable and difficult. Besides this, Sir, a Menager is to

order all new Cloaths, to assist in the Fancy and Propriety of them, to

limit the Expence, and to withstand the unreasonable Importunities of

some that are apt to think themselves injur'd if they are not finer than

their Fellows. A Menager is to direct and oversee the Painters,

Machinists, Musicians, Singers, and Dancers; to have an Eye upon the

Door-keepers, Under-Servants, and Officers that, without such Care, are

too often apt to defraud us, or neglect their Duty.

And all this, Sir, and more, much more, which we hope will be needless

to trouble you with, have we done every Day, without the least

Assistance from Sir _Richard_, even at times when the Concern and Labour

of our Parts upon the Stage have made it very difficult and irksome to

go through with it.

In this Place, Sir, it may be worth observing that Sir _Richard_, in his

Answer to our Cross-Bill, seems to value himself upon _Cibber_'s

confessing, in the Dedication of a Play which he made to Sir _Richard_,

that he (Sir _Richard_) had done the Stage very considerable Service by

leading the Town to our Plays, and filling our Houses by the Force and

Influence of his _Tatlers_.[151] But Sir _Richard_ forgets that those

_Tatlers_ were written in the late Queen's Reign, long before he was

admitted to a Share in the Play-house: And in truth, Sir, it was our

real Sense of those Obligations, and Sir _Richard_'s assuring us they

should be continued, that first and chiefly inclin'd us to invite him to

share the Profits of our Labours, upon such farther Conditions as in his

Assignment of the Patent to us are specified. And, Sir, as _Cibber_'s

publick Acknowledgment of those Favours is at the same time an equal

Proof of Sir _Richard_'s _Power_ to continue them; so, Sir, we hope it

carries an equal Probability that, without his Promise to _use_ that

Power, he would never have been thought on, much less have been invited

by us into a Joint-Menagement of the Stage, and into a Share of the

Profits: And, indeed, what Pretence could he have form'd for asking a

Patent from the Crown, had he been possess'd of no eminent Qualities but

in common with other Men? But, Sir, all these Advantages, all these

Hopes, nay, Certainties of greater Profits from those great Qualities,

have we been utterly depriv'd of by the wilful and unexpected Neglect of

Sir _Richard_. But we find, Sir, it is a common thing in the Practice of

Mankind to justify one Error by committing another: For Sir _Richard_

has not only refused us the extraordinary Assistance which he is able

and bound to give us; but, on the contrary, to our great Expence and

Loss of Time, now calls us to account, in this honourable Court, for the

Wrong we have done him, in not doing his Business of a Menager for

nothing. But, Sir, Sir _Richard_ has not met with such Treatment from

us: He has not writ Plays for us for _Nothing_, we paid him very well,

and in an extraordinary manner, for his late Comedy of the _Conscious

Lovers_: And though, in writing that Play, he had more Assistance from

one of the Menagers[152] than becomes me to enlarge upon, of which

Evidence has been given upon Oath by several of our Actors; yet, Sir, he

was allow'd the full and particular Profits of that Play as an Author,

which amounted to Three Hundred Pounds, besides about Three Hundred more

which he received as a Joint-Sharer of the general Profits that arose

from it. Now, Sir, though the Menagers are not all of them able to write

Plays, yet they have all of them been able to do (I won't say as good,

but at least) as profitable a thing. They have invented and adorn'd a

Spectacle that for Forty Days together has brought more Money to the

House than the best Play that ever was writ. The Spectacle I mean, Sir,

is that of the Coronation-Ceremony of _Anna Bullen_:[153] And though we

allow a good Play to be the more laudable Performance, yet, Sir, in the

profitable Part of it there is no Comparison. If, therefore, our

Spectacle brought in as much, or more Money than Sir _Richard_'s Comedy,

what is there on his Side but Usage that intitles him to be paid for

one, more than we are for t'other? But then, Sir, if he is so profitably

distinguish'd for his Play, if we yield him up the Preference, and pay

him for his extraordinary Composition, and take nothing for our own,

though it turn'd out more to our common Profit; sure, Sir, while we do

such extraordinary Duty as Menagers, and while he neglects his Share of

that Duty, he cannot grudge us the moderate Demand we make for our

separate Labour?

[Illustration: BARTON BOOTH.]

To conclude, Sir, if by our constant Attendance, our Care, our Anxiety

(not to mention the disagreeable Contests we sometimes meet with, both

within and without Doors, in the Menagement of our Theatre) we have not

only saved the whole from Ruin, which, if we had all follow'd Sir

_Richard_'s Example, could not have been avoided; I say, Sir, if we have

still made it so valuable an Income to him, without his giving us the

least Assistance for several Years past; we hope, Sir, that the poor

Labourers that have done all this for Sir _Richard_ will not be thought

unworthy of their Hire.

How far our Affairs, being set in this particular Light, might assist

our Cause, may be of no great Importance to guess; but the Issue

of it was this: That Sir _Richard_ not having made any Objection to

what we had charged for Menagement for three Years together; and as

our Proceedings had been all transacted in open Day, without any

clandestine Intention of Fraud; we were allow'd the Sums in dispute

above-mention'd; and Sir _Richard_ not being advised to appeal to the

Lord-Chancellor, both Parties paid their own Costs, and thought it their

mutual Interest to let this be the last of their Law-suits.

And now, gentle Reader, I ask Pardon for so long an Imposition on your

Patience: For tho' I may have no ill Opinion of this Matter myself; yet

to you I can very easily conceive it may have been tedious. You are,

therefore, at your own Liberty of charging the whole Impertinence of it,

either to the Weakness of my Judgment, or the Strength of my Vanity; and

I will so far join in your Censure, that I farther confess I have been

so impatient to give it you, that you have had it out of its Turn: For,

some Years before this Suit was commenced, there were other Facts that

ought to have had a Precedence in my History: But that, I dare say, is

an Oversight you will easily excuse, provided you afterwards find them

worth reading. However, as to that Point I must take my Chance, and

shall therefore proceed to speak of the Theatre which was order'd by his

late Majesty to be erected in the Great old Hall at _Hampton-Court_;

where Plays were intended to have been acted twice a Week during the

Summer-Season. But before the Theatre could be finish'd, above half the

Month of _September_ being elapsed, there were but seven Plays acted

before the Court returned to _London_.[154] This throwing open a Theatre

in a Royal Palace seem'd to be reviving the Old _English_ hospitable

Grandeur, where the lowest Rank of neighbouring Subjects might make

themselves merry at Court without being laugh'd at themselves. In former

Reigns, Theatrical Entertainments at the Royal Palaces had been

perform'd at vast Expence, as appears by the Description of the

Decorations in several of _Ben. Johnson_'s Masques in King _James_ and

_Charles the First_'s Time;[155] many curious and original Draughts of

which, by Sir _Inigo Jones_, I have seen in the _Musæum_ of our greatest

Master and Patron of Arts and Architecture, whom it would be a needless

Liberty to name.[156] But when our Civil Wars ended in the Decadence of

Monarchy, it was then an Honour to the Stage to have fallen with it:

Yet, after the Restoration of _Charles_ II. some faint Attempts were

made to revive these Theatrical Spectacles at Court; but I have met with

no Account of above one Masque acted there by the Nobility; which was

that of _Calisto_, written by _Crown_, the Author of Sir _Courtly Nice_.

For what Reason _Crown_ was chosen to that Honour rather than _Dryden_,

who was then Poet-Laureat and out of all Comparison his Superior in

Poetry, may seem surprizing: But if we consider the Offence which the

then Duke of _Buckingham_ took at the Character of _Zimri_ in

_Dryden_'s _Absalom_, &c. (which might probably be a Return to his

Grace's _Drawcansir_ in the _Rehearsal_) we may suppose the Prejudice

and Recommendation of so illustrious a Pretender to Poetry might prevail

at Court to give Crown this Preference.[157] In the same Reign the King

had his Comedians at _Windsor_, but upon a particular Establishment; for

tho' they acted in St. _George_'s Hall, within the Royal Palace, yet (as

I have been inform'd by an Eye-witness) they were permitted to take

Money at the Door of every Spectator; whether this was an Indulgence, in

Conscience I cannot say; but it was a common Report among the principal

Actors, when I first came into the _Theatre-Royal_, in 1690, that there

was then due to the Company from that Court about One Thousand Five

Hundred Pounds for Plays commanded, _&c._ and yet it was the general

Complaint, in that Prince's Reign, that he paid too much Ready-money for

his Pleasures: But these Assertions I only give as I received them,

without being answerable for their Reality. This Theatrical Anecdote,

however, puts me in mind of one of a more private nature, which I had

from old solemn _Boman_, the late Actor of venerable Memory.[158]

_Boman_, then a Youth, and fam'd for his Voice, was appointed to sing

some Part in a Concert of Musick at the private Lodgings of Mrs. _Gwin_;

at which were only present the King, the Duke of _York_, and one or two

more who were usually admitted upon those detach'd Parties of Pleasure.

When the Performance was ended, the King express'd himself highly

pleased, and gave it extraordinary Commendations: Then, Sir, said the

Lady, to shew you don't speak like a Courtier, I hope you will make the

Performers a handsome Present: The King said he had no Money about him,

and ask'd the Duke if he had any? To which the Duke reply'd, I believe,

Sir, not above a Guinea or two. Upon which the laughing Lady, turning to

the People about her, and making bold with the King's common Expression,

cry'd, _Od's Fish! what Company am I got into!_

Whether the reverend Historian of his _Own Time_,[159] among the many

other Reasons of the same Kind he might have for stiling this Fair One

the _indiscreetest and wildest Creature that ever was in a Court_, might

know this to be one of them, I can't say: But if we consider her in all

the Disadvantages of her Rank and Education, she does not appear to have

had any criminal Errors more remarkable than her Sex's Frailty to answer

for: And if the same Author, in his latter End of that Prince's Life,

seems to reproach his Memory with too kind a Concern for her Support, we

may allow that it becomes a Bishop to have had no Eyes or Taste for the

frivolous Charms or playful _Badinage_ of a King's Mistress: Yet, if the

common Fame of her may be believ'd, which in my Memory was not doubted,

she had less to be laid to her Charge than any other of those Ladies

who were in the same State of Preferment: She never meddled in Matters

of serious Moment, or was the Tool of working Politicians: Never broke

into those amorous Infidelities which others in that grave Author are

accus'd of; but was as visibly distinguish'd by her particular Personal

Inclination to the King, as her Rivals were by their Titles and

Grandeur. Give me leave to carry (perhaps the Partiality of) my

Observation a little farther. The same Author, in the same Page,

263,[160] tells us, That "Another of the King's Mistresses, the Daughter

of a Clergyman, Mrs. _Roberts_, in whom her first Education had so deep

a Root, that though she fell into many scandalous Disorders, with very

dismal Adventures in them all, yet a Principle of Religion was so deep

laid in her, that tho' it did not restrain her, yet it kept alive in

her such a constant Horror of Sin, that she was never easy in an ill

course, and died with a great Sense of her former ill Life."

To all this let us give an implicit Credit: Here is the Account of a frail

Sinner made up with a Reverend Witness! Yet I cannot but lament that this

Mitred Historian, who seems to know more Personal Secrets than any that

ever writ before him, should not have been as inquisitive after the last

Hours of our other Fair Offender, whose Repentance I have been

unquestionably inform'd, appear'd in all the contrite Symptoms of a

Christian Sincerity. If therefore you find I am so much concern'd to make

this favourable mention of the one, because she was a Sister of the

_Theatre_, why may not--But I dare not be so presumptuous, so uncharitably

bold, as to suppose the other was spoken better of merely because she was

the Daughter of a _Clergyman_. Well, and what then? What's all this idle

Prate, you may say, to the matter in hand? Why, I say your Question is a

little too critical; and if you won't give an Author leave, now and then,

to embellish his Work by a natural Reflexion, you are an ungentle Reader.

But I have done with my Digression, and return to our Theatre at

_Hampton-Court_, where I am not sure the Reader, be he ever so wise, will

meet with any thing more worth his notice: However, if he happens to read,

as I write, for want of something better to do, he will go on; and perhaps

wonder when I tell him that:

A Play presented at Court, or acted on a publick Stage, seem to their

different Auditors a different Entertainment. Now hear my Reason for it.

In the common Theatre the Guests are at home, where the politer Forms of

Good-breeding are not so nicely regarded: Every one there falls to, and

likes or finds fault according to his natural Taste or Appetite. At

Court, where the Prince gives the Treat, and honours the Table with his

own Presence, the Audience is under the Restraint of a Circle, where

Laughter or Applause rais'd higher than a Whisper would be star'd at. At

a publick Play they are both let loose, even 'till the Actor is

sometimes pleas'd with his not being able to be heard for the Clamour of

them. But this Coldness or Decency of Attention at Court I observ'd had

but a melancholy Effect upon the impatient Vanity of some of our Actors,

who seem'd inconsolable when their flashy Endeavours to please had

pass'd unheeded: Their not considering where they were quite

disconcerted them; nor could they recover their Spirits 'till from the

lowest Rank of the Audience some gaping _John_ or _Joan_, in the

fullness of their Hearts, roar'd out their Approbation: And, indeed,

such a natural Instance of honest Simplicity a Prince himself, whose

Indulgence knows where to make Allowances, might reasonably smile at,

and perhaps not think it the worst part of his Entertainment. Yet it

must be own'd, that an Audience may be as well too much reserv'd, as

too profuse of their Applause: For though it is possible a _Betterton_

would not have been discourag'd from throwing out an Excellence, or

elated into an Error, by his Auditors being too little or too much

pleas'd, yet, as Actors of his Judgment are Rarities, those of less

Judgment may sink into a Flatness in their Performance for want of that

Applause, which from the generality of Judges they might perhaps have

some Pretence to: And the Auditor, when not seeming to feel what ought

to affect him, may rob himself of something more that he might have had

by giving the Actor his Due, who measures out his Power to please

according to the Value he sets upon his Hearer's Taste or Capacity. But,

however, as we were not here itinerant Adventurers, and had properly but

one Royal Auditor to please; after that Honour was attain'd to, the rest

of our Ambition had little to look after: And that the King was often

pleas'd, we were not only assur'd by those who had the Honour to be near

him; but could see it, from the frequent Satisfaction in his Looks at

particular Scenes and Passages: One Instance of which I am tempted to

relate, because it was at a Speech that might more naturally affect a

Sovereign Prince than any private Spectator. In _Shakespear_'s _Harry

the Eighth_, that King commands the Cardinal to write circular Letters

of Indemnity into every County where the Payment of certain heavy Taxes

had been disputed: Upon which the Cardinal whispers the following

Directions to his Secretary _Cromwell_:

_----A Word with you:

Let there be Letters writ to every Shire

Of the King's Grace and Pardon: The griev'd Commons

Hardly conceive of me. Let it be nois'd

That through our Intercession this Revokement

And Pardon comes.--I shall anon advise you

Farther in the Proceeding----_

The Solicitude of this Spiritual Minister, in filching from his Master

the Grace and Merit of a good Action, and dressing up himself in it,

while himself had been Author of the Evil complain'd of, was so easy a

Stroke of his Temporal Conscience, that it seem'd to raise the King into

something more than a Smile whenever that Play came before him: And I

had a more distinct Occasion to observe this Effect; because my proper

Stand on the Stage when I spoke the Lines required me to be near the Box

where the King usually sate:[161] In a Word, this Play is so true a

Dramatick Chronicle of an old _English_ Court, and where the Character

of _Harry the Eighth_ is so exactly drawn, even to a humourous Likeness,

that it may be no wonder why his Majesty's particular Taste for it

should have commanded it three several times in one Winter.

This, too, calls to my Memory an extravagant Pleasantry of Sir _Richard

Steele_, who being ask'd by a grave Nobleman, after the same Play had

been presented at _Hampton-Court_, how the King lik'd it, reply'd, _So

terribly well, my Lord, that I was afraid I should have lost all my

Actors_! _For I was not sure the King would not keep them to fill the

Posts at Court that he saw them so fit for in the Play._

It may be imagin'd that giving Plays to the People at such a distance

from _London_ could not but be attended with an extraordinary Expence;

and it was some Difficulty, when they were first talk'd of, to bring

them under a moderate Sum; I shall therefore, in as few Words as

possible, give a Particular of what Establishment they were then brought

to, that in case the same Entertainments should at any time hereafter be

call'd to the same Place, future Courts may judge how far the Precedent

may stand good, or need an Alteration.

Though the stated Fee for a Play acted at _Whitehall_ had been formerly

but Twenty Pounds;[162] yet, as that hinder'd not the Company's acting on

the same Day at the Publick Theatre, that Sum was almost all clear Profits

to them: But this Circumstance not being practicable when they were

commanded to _Hampton-Court_, a new and extraordinary Charge was

unavoidable: The Menagers, therefore, not to inflame it, desired no

Consideration for their own Labour, farther than the Honour of being

employ'd in his Majesty's Commands; and, if the other Actors might be

allow'd each their Day's Pay and travelling Charges, they should hold

themselves ready to act any Play there at a Day's Warning: And that the

Trouble might be less by being divided, the Lord-Chamberlain was pleas'd

to let us know that the Houshold-Musick, the Wax Lights, and a

_Chaise-Marine_ to carry our moving Wardrobe to every different Play,

should be under the Charge of the proper Officers. Notwithstanding these

Assistances, the Expence of every Play amounted to Fifty Pounds: Which

Account, when all was over, was not only allow'd us, but his Majesty was

graciously pleas'd to give the Menagers Two Hundred Pounds more for their

particular Performance and Trouble in only seven times acting.[163] Which

last Sum, though it might not be too much for a Sovereign Prince to give,

it was certainly more than our utmost Merit ought to have hop'd for: And I

confess, when I receiv'd the Order for the Money from his Grace the Duke

of _Newcastle_, then Lord-Chamberlain, I was so surpris'd, that I imagin'd

his Grace's Favour, or Recommendation of our Readiness or Diligence, must

have contributed to so high a Consideration of it, and was offering my

Acknowledgments as I thought them due; but was soon stopt short by his

Grace's Declaration, That we had no Obligations for it but to the King

himself, who had given it from no other Motive than his own Bounty. Now

whether we may suppose that Cardinal _Wolsey_ (as you see _Shakespear_ has

drawn him) would silently have taken such low Acknowledgments to himself,

perhaps may be as little worth consideration as my mentioning this

Circumstance has been necessary: But if it is due to the Honour and

Integrity of the (then) Lord-Chamberlain, I cannot think it wholly

impertinent.

Since that time there has been but one Play given at _Hampton-Court_,

which was for the Entertainment of the Duke of _Lorrain_; and for which

his present Majesty was pleased to order us a Hundred Pounds.

The Reader may now plainly see that I am ransacking my Memory for such

remaining Scraps of Theatrical History as may not perhaps be worth his

Notice: But if they are such as tempt me to write them, why may I not

hope that in this wide World there may be many an idle Soul, no wiser

than my self, who may be equally tempted to read them?

I have so often had occasion to compare the State of the Stage to the

State of a Nation, that I yet feel a Reluctancy to drop the Comparison,

or speak of the one without some Application to the other. How many

Reigns, then, do I remember, from that of _Charles_ the Second, through

all which there has been, from one half of the People or the other, a

Succession of Clamour against every different Ministry for the time

being? And yet, let the Cause of this Clamour have been never so well

grounded, it is impossible but that some of those Ministers must have

been wiser and honester Men than others: If this be true, as true I

believe it is, why may I not then say, as some Fool in a _French_ Play

does upon a like Occasion--_Justement, comme chez nous!_ 'Twas exactly

the same with our Menagement! let us have done never so well, we could

not please every body: All I can say in our Defence is, that though many

good Judges might possibly conceive how the State of the Stage might

have been mended, yet the best of them never pretended to remember the

Time when it was better! or could shew us the way to make their

imaginary Amendments practicable.

For though I have often allow'd that our best Merit as Actors was never

equal to that of our Predecessors, yet I will venture to say, that in

all its Branches the Stage had never been under so just, so prosperous,

and so settled a Regulation, for forty Years before, as it was at

the Time I am speaking of. The most plausible Objection to our

Administration seemed to be, that we took no Care to breed up young

Actors to succeed us;[164] and this was imputed as the greater Fault,

because it was taken for granted that it was a Matter as easy as

planting so many Cabbages: Now, might not a Court as well be reproached

for not breeding up a Succession of complete Ministers? And yet it is

evident, that if Providence or Nature don't supply us with both, the

State and the Stage will be but poorly supported. If a Man of an ample

Fortune should take it into his Head to give a younger Son an

extraordinary Allowance in order to breed him a great Poet, what might

we suppose would be the Odds that his Trouble and Money would be all

thrown away? Not more than it would be against the Master of a Theatre

who should say, this or that young Man I will take care shall be an

excellent Actor! Let it be our Excuse, then, for that mistaken Charge

against us; that since there was no Garden or Market where accomplished

Actors grew or were to be sold, we could only pick them up, as we do

Pebbles of Value, by Chance: We may polish a thousand before we can

find one fit to make a Figure in the Lid of a Snuff-Box. And how few

soever we were able to produce, it is no Proof that we were not always

in search of them: Yet, at worst, it was allow'd that our Deficiency of

Men Actors was not so visible as our Scarcity of tolerable Women: But

when it is consider'd, that the Life of Youth and Beauty is too short

for the bringing an Actress to her Perfection; were I to mention, too,

the many frail fair Ones I remember who, before they could arrive to

their Theatrical Maturity, were feloniously stolen from the Tree, it

would rather be thought our Misfortune than our Fault that we were not

better provided.[165]

Even the Laws of a Nunnery, we find, are thought no sufficient Security

against Temptations without Iron Grates and high Walls to inforce them;

which the Architecture of a Theatre will not so properly admit of: And

yet, methinks, Beauty that has not those artificial Fortresses about it,

that has no Defence but its natural Virtue (which upon the Stage has

more than once been met with) makes a much more meritorious Figure in

Life than that immur'd Virtue which could never be try'd. But alas! as

the poor Stage is but the Show-glass to a Toy-shop, we must not

wonder if now and then some of the Bawbles should find a Purchaser.

[Illustration: SUSANNA MARIA CIBBER.]

However, as to say more or less than Truth are equally unfaithful in an

Historian, I cannot but own that, in the Government of the Theatre, I have

known many Instances where the Merit of promising Actors has not always

been brought forward, with the Regard or Favour it had a Claim to: And if

I put my Reader in mind, that in the early Part of this Work I have shewn

thro' what continued Difficulties and Discouragements I myself made my way

up the Hill of Preferment, he may justly call it too strong a Glare of my

Vanity: I am afraid he is in the right; but I pretend not to be one of

those chaste Authors that know how to write without it: When Truth is to

be told, it may be as much Chance as Choice if it happens to turn out in

my Favour: But to shew that this was true of others as well as myself,

_Booth_ shall be another Instance. In 1707, when _Swiney_ was the only

Master of the Company in the _Hay-Market_; _Wilks_, tho' he was then but

an hired Actor himself, rather chose to govern and give Orders than to

receive them; and was so jealous of _Booth_'s rising, that with a high

Hand he gave the Part of _Pierre_, in _Venice Preserv'd_, to _Mills_ the

elder, who (not to undervalue him) was out of Sight in the Pretensions

that _Booth_, then young as he was, had to the same Part:[166] and this

very Discouragement so strongly affected him, that not long after, when

several of us became Sharers with _Swiney_, _Booth_ rather chose to

risque his Fortune with the old Patentee in _Drury-Lane_, than come into

our Interest, where he saw he was like to meet with more of those

Partialities.[167] And yet, again, _Booth_ himself, when he came to be a

Menager, would sometimes suffer his Judgment to be blinded by his

Inclination to Actors whom the Town seem'd to have but an indifferent

Opinion of. This again inclines me to ask another of my odd Questions,

_viz._ Have we never seen the same passions govern a Court! How many white

Staffs and great Places do we find, in our Histories, have been laid at

the Feet of a Monarch, because they chose not to give way to a Rival in

Power, or hold a second Place in his Favour? How many _Whigs_ and _Tories_

have chang'd their Parties, when their good or bad Pretensions have met

with a Check to their higher Preferment?

Thus we see, let the Degrees and Rank of Men be ever so unequal, Nature

throws out their Passions from the same Motives; 'tis not the Eminence

or Lowliness of either that makes the one, when provok'd, more or less

a reasonable Creature than the other: The Courtier and the Comedian,

when their Ambition is out of Humour, take just the same Measures to

right themselves.

If this familiar Stile of talking should, in the Nostrils of Gravity and

Wisdom, smell a little too much of the Presumptuous or the Pragmatical,

I will at least descend lower in my Apology for it, by calling to my

Assistance the old, humble Proverb, _viz._ _'Tis an ill Bird that, &c._

Why then should I debase my Profession by setting it in vulgar Lights,

when I may shew it to more favourable Advantages? And when I speak of

our Errors, why may I not extenuate them by illustrious Examples? or by

not allowing them greater than the greatest Men have been subject to? Or

why, indeed, may I not suppose that a sensible Reader will rather laugh

than look grave at the Pomp of my Parallels?

Now, as I am tied down to the Veracity of an Historian whose Facts

cannot be supposed, like those in a Romance, to be in the Choice of the

Author to make them more marvellous by Invention; if I should happen to

sink into a little farther Insignificancy, let the simple Truth of what

I have farther to say, be my Excuse for it. I am obliged, therefore, to

make the Experiment, by shewing you the Conduct of our Theatrical

Ministry in such Lights as on various Occasions it appear'd in.

Though _Wilks_ had more Industry and Application than any Actor I had

ever known, yet we found it possible that those necessary Qualities

might sometimes be so misconducted as not only to make them useless, but

hurtful to our Common-wealth;[168] for while he was impatient to be

foremost in every thing, he frequently shock'd the honest Ambition of

others, whose Measures might have been more serviceable, could his

Jealousy have given way to them. His own Regards for himself, therefore,

were, to avoid a disagreeable Dispute with him, too often complied with:

But this leaving his Diligence to his own Conduct, made us, in some

Instances, pay dearly for it: For Example; he would take as much, or

more Pains, in forwarding to the Stage the Water-gruel Work of some

insipid Author that happen'd rightly to make his Court to him,[169] than

he would for the best Play wherein it was not his Fortune to be chosen

for the best Character. So great was his Impatience to be employ'd, that

I scarce remember, in twenty Years, above one profitable Play we could

get to be reviv'd, wherein he found he was to make no considerable

Figure, independent of him: But the _Tempest_ having done Wonders

formerly, he could not form any Pretensions to let it lie longer

dormant: However, his Coldness to it was so visible, that he took all

Occasions to postpone and discourage its Progress, by frequently taking

up the morning-Stage with something more to his Mind. Having been myself

particularly solicitous for the reviving this Play, _Dogget_ (for this

was before Booth came into the Menagement) consented that the

extraordinary Decorations and Habits should be left to my Care and

Direction, as the fittest Person whose Temper could jossle through the

petulant Opposition that he knew _Wilks_ would be always offering to it,

because he had but a middling Part in it, that of _Ferdinand_:

Notwithstanding which, so it happen'd, that the Success of it shew'd

(not to take from the Merit of _Wilks_) that it was possible to have

good Audiences without his extraordinary Assistance. In the first six

Days of acting it we paid all our constant and incidental Expence, and

shar'd each of us a hundred Pounds: The greatest Profit that in so

little a Time had yet been known within my Memory! But, alas! what was

paltry Pelf to Glory? That was the darling Passion of _Wilks_'s Heart!

and not to advance in it was, to so jealous an Ambition, a painful

Retreat, a mere Shade to his Laurels! and the common Benefit was but a

poor Equivalent to his want of particular Applause! To conclude, not

Prince _Lewis_ of _Baden_, though a Confederate General with the Duke

of _Marlborough_, was more inconsolable upon the memorable Victory

at _Blenheim_, at which he was not present, than our Theatrical Hero

was to see any Action prosperous that he was not himself at the Head of.

If this, then, was an Infirmity in _Wilks_, why may not my shewing the

same Weakness in so great a Man mollify the Imputation, and keep his

Memory in Countenance.

This laudable Appetite for Fame in _Wilks_ was not, however, to be fed

without that constant Labour which only himself was able to come up to:

He therefore bethought him of the means to lessen the Fatigue, and at

the same time to heighten his Reputation; which was, by giving up now

and then a Part to some raw Actor who he was sure would disgrace it, and

consequently put the Audience in mind of his superior Performance: Among

this sort of Indulgences to young Actors he happen'd once to make a

Mistake that set his Views in a clear Light. The best Criticks, I

believe, will allow that in _Shakespear_'s _Macbeth_ there are, in the

Part of _Macduff_, two Scenes, the one of Terror, in the second Act, and

the other of Compassion, in the fourth, equal to any that dramatick

Poetry has produc'd: These Scenes _Wilks_ had acted with Success, tho'

far short of that happier Skill and Grace which _Monfort_ had formerly

shewn in them.[170] Such a Part, however, one might imagine would be one

of the last a good Actor would chuse to part with: But _Wilks_ was of a

different Opinion; for _Macbeth_ was thrice as long, had more great

Scenes of Action, and bore the Name of the Play: Now, to be a second in

any Play was what he did not much care for, and had been seldom us'd to:

This Part of _Macduff_, therefore, he had given to one _Williams_, as

yet no extraordinary, though a promising Actor.[171] _Williams_, in the

Simplicity of his Heart, immediately told _Booth_ what a Favour _Wilks_

had done him. _Booth_, as he had Reason, thought _Wilks_ had here

carried his Indulgence and his Authority a little too far; for as

_Booth_ had no better a Part in the same Play than that of _Banquo_, he

found himself too much disregarded in letting so young an Actor take

Place of him: _Booth_, therefore, who knew the Value of _Macduff_,

proposed to do it himself, and to give _Banquo_ to _Williams_; and to

make him farther amends, offer'd him any other of his Parts that he

thought might be of Service to him. _Williams_ was content with the

Exchange, and thankful for the Promise. This Scheme, indeed, (had it

taken Effect) might have been an Ease to _Wilks_, and possibly no

Disadvantage to the Play; but softly----That was not quite what we had a

Mind to! No sooner, then, came this Proposal to _Wilks_, but off went

the Masque and out came the Secret! For though _Wilks_ wanted to be

eas'd of the Part, he did not desire to be _excell'd_ in it; and as he

was not sure but that might be the case if _Booth_ were to act it,[172]

he wisely retracted his own Project, took _Macduff_ again to himself,

and while he liv'd never had a Thought of running the same Hazard by any

farther Offer to resign it.

Here I confess I am at a Loss for a Fact in History to which this can be

a Parallel! To be weary of a Post, even to a real Desire of resigning

it; and yet to chuse rather to drudge on in it than suffer it to be well

supplied (though to share in that Advantage) is a Delicacy of Ambition

that _Machiavil_ himself has made no mention of: Or if in old _Rome_,

the Jealousy of any pretended Patriot equally inclin'd to abdicate his

Office may have come up to it, 'tis more than my reading remembers.

As nothing can be more impertinent than shewing too frequent a Fear to

be thought so, I will, without farther Apology, rather risque that

Imputation than not tell you another Story much to the same purpose, and

of no more consequence than my last. To make you understand it, however,

a little Preface will be necessary.

If the Merit of an Actor (as it certainly does) consists more in the

Quality than the Quantity of his Labour; the other Menagers had no

visible Reason to think this needless Ambition of _Wilks_, in being so

often and sometimes so unnecessarily employ'd, gave him any Title to a

Superiority; especially when our Articles of Agreement had allow'd us

all to be equal. But what are narrow Contracts to great Souls with

growing Desires? _Wilks_, therefore, who thought himself lessen'd in

appealing to any Judgment but his own, plainly discovered by his

restless Behaviour (though he did not care to speak out) that he thought

he had a Right to some higher Consideration for his Performance: This

was often _Booth_'s Opinion, as well as my own. It must be farther

observ'd, that he actually had a separate Allowance of Fifty Pounds a

Year for writing our daily Play-Bills for the Printer: Which Province,

to say the Truth, was the only one we car'd to trust to his particular

Intendance, or could find out for a Pretence to distinguish him. But, to

speak a plainer Truth, this Pension, which was no part of our original

Agreement, was merely paid to keep him quiet, and not that we thought it

due to so insignificant a Charge as what a Prompter had formerly

executed. This being really the Case, his frequent Complaints of being a

Drudge to the Company grew something more than disagreeable to us: For

we could not digest the Imposition of a Man's setting himself to work,

and then bringing in his own Bill for it. _Booth_, therefore, who was

less easy than I was to see him so often setting a Merit upon this

Quantity of his Labour, which neither could be our Interest or his own

to lay upon him, proposed to me that we might remove this pretended

Grievance by reviving some Play that might be likely to live, and be

easily acted, without _Wilks_'s having any Part in it. About this time

an unexpected Occasion offer'd itself to put our Project in practice:

What follow'd our Attempt will be all (if any thing be) worth

Observation in my Story.

In 1725 we were call'd upon, in a manner that could not be resisted, to

revive the _Provok'd Wife_,[173] a Comedy which, while we found our

Account in keeping the Stage clear of those loose Liberties it had

formerly too justly been charg'd with, we had laid aside for some

Years.[174] The Author, Sir _John Vanbrugh_, who was conscious of what

it had too much of, was prevail'd upon[175] to substitute a new-written

Scene in the Place of one in the fourth Act, where the Wantonness of his

Wit and Humour had (originally) made a Rake[176] talk like a Rake in the

borrow'd Habit of a Clergyman: To avoid which Offence, he clapt the same

Debauchee into the Undress of a Woman of Quality: Now the Character and

Profession of a Fine Lady not being so indelibly sacred as that of a

Churchman, whatever Follies he expos'd in the Petticoat kept him at

least clear of his former Prophaneness, and were now innocently

ridiculous to the Spectator.

This Play being thus refitted for the Stage, was, as I have observ'd,

call'd for from Court and by many of the Nobility.[177] Now, then, we

thought, was a proper time to come to an Explanation with _Wilks_:

Accordingly, when the Actors were summon'd to hear the Play read and

receive their Parts, I address'd myself to _Wilks_, before them all, and

told him, That as the Part of _Constant_, which he seem'd to chuse, was

a Character of less Action than he generally appear'd in, we thought

this might be a good Occasion to ease himself by giving it to

another.--Here he look'd grave.--That the Love-Scenes of it were rather

serious than gay or humourous, and therefore might sit very well upon

_Booth_.----Down dropt his Brow, and furl'd were his Features.--That if

we were never to revive a tolerable Play without him, what would become

of us in case of his Indisposition?----Here he pretended to stir the

Fire.--That as he could have no farther Advantage or Advancement in his

Station to hope for, his acting in this Play was but giving himself an

unprofitable Trouble, which neither _Booth_ or I desired to impose upon

him.--Softly.--Now the Pill began to gripe him.----In a Word, this

provoking Civility plung'd him into a Passion which he was no longer

able to contain; out it came, with all the Equipage of unlimited

Language that on such Occasions his Displeasure usually set out with;

but when his Reply was stript of those Ornaments, it was plainly this:

That he look'd upon all I had said as a concerted Design, not only to

signalize our selves by laying him aside, but a Contrivance to draw him

into the Disfavour of the Nobility, by making it suppos'd his own Choice

that he did not act in a Play so particularly ask'd for; but we should

find he could stand upon his own Bottom, and it was not all our little

caballing should get our Ends of him: To which I answer'd with some

Warmth, That he was mistaken in our Ends; for Those, Sir, said I, you

have answer'd already by shewing the Company you cannot bear to be left

out of any Play. Are not you every Day complaining of your being

over-labour'd? And now, upon our first offering to ease you, you fly

into a Passion, and pretend to make that a greater Grievance than

t'other: But, Sir, if your being In or Out of the Play is a Hardship,

you shall impose it upon yourself: The Part is in your Hand, and to us

it is a Matter of Indifference now whether you take it or leave it. Upon

this he threw down the Part upon the Table, cross'd his Arms, and sate

knocking his Heel upon the Floor, as seeming to threaten most when he

said least; but when no body persuaded him to take it up again, _Booth_,

not chusing to push the matter too far, but rather to split the

difference of our Dispute, said, That, for his Part, he saw no such

great matter in acting every Day; for he believed it the wholsomest

Exercise in the World; it kept the Spirits in motion, and always gave

him a good Stomach. Though this was, in a manner, giving up the Part to

_Wilks_, yet it did not allow he did us any Favour in receiving it. Here

I observ'd Mrs. _Oldfield_ began to titter behind her Fan: But _Wilks_

being more intent upon what _Booth_ had said, reply'd, Every one could

best feel for himself, but he did not pretend to the Strength of a

Pack-horse; therefore if Mrs. _Oldfield_ would chuse any body else to

play with her,[178] he should be very glad to be excus'd: This throwing

the Negative upon Mrs. _Oldfield_ was, indeed, a sure way to save

himself; which I could not help taking notice of, by saying, It was

making but an ill Compliment to the Company to suppose there was but one

Man in it fit to play an ordinary Part with her. Here Mrs. _Oldfield_

got up, and turning me half round to come forward, said with her usual

Frankness, Pooh! you are all a Parcel of Fools, to make such a rout

about nothing! Rightly judging that the Person most out of humour would

not be more displeas'd at her calling us all by the same Name. As she

knew, too, the best way of ending the Debate would be to help the Weak;

she said, she hop'd Mr. _Wilks_ would not so far mind what had past as

to refuse his acting the Part with her; for tho' it might not be so good

as he had been us'd to, yet she believed those who had bespoke the Play

would expect to have it done to the best Advantage, and it would make

but an odd Story abroad if it were known there had been any Difficulty

in that point among ourselves. To conclude, _Wilks_ had the Part, and we

had all we wanted; which was an Occasion to let him see, that the

Accident or Choice of one Menager's being more employ'd than another

would never be allow'd a Pretence for altering our Indentures, or his

having an extraordinary Consideration for it.[179]

However disagreeable it might be to have this unsociable Temper daily to

deal with; yet I cannot but say, that from the same impatient Spirit

that had so often hurt us, we still drew valuable Advantages: For as

_Wilks_ seem'd to have no Joy in Life beyond his being distinguish'd on

the Stage, we were not only sure of his always doing his best there

himself, but of making others more careful than without the Rod of so

irascible a Temper over them they would have been. And I much question

if a more temperate or better Usage of the hired Actors could have so

effectually kept them to Order. Not even _Betterton_ (as we have seen)

with all his good Sense, his great Fame and Experience, could, by being

only a quiet Example of Industry himself, save his Company from falling,

while neither Gentleness could govern or the Consideration of their

common Interest reform them.[180] Diligence, with much the inferior

Skill or Capacity, will beat the best negligent Company that ever came

upon a Stage. But when a certain dreaming Idleness or jolly Negligence

of Rehearsals gets into a Body of the Ignorant and Incapable (which

before _Wilks_ came into _Drury-Lane_, when _Powel_ was at the Head of

them, was the Case of that Company) then, I say, a sensible Spectator

might have look'd upon the fallen Stage as _Portius_ in the Play of

_Cato_ does upon his ruin'd Country, and have lamented it in (something

near) the same Exclamation, _viz._

_--O ye Immortal Bards!

What Havock do these Blockheads make among your Works!

How are the boasted Labours of an Age

Defac'd and tortured by Ungracious Action?_[181]

Of this wicked Doings _Dryden_, too, complains in one of his Prologues

at that time, where, speaking of such lewd Actors, he closes a Couplet

with the following Line, _viz._

_And murder Plays, which they miscall Reviving._[182]

The great Share, therefore, that _Wilks_, by his exemplary Diligence and

Impatience of Neglect in others, had in the Reformation of this Evil,

ought in Justice to be remember'd; and let my own Vanity here take Shame

to itself when I confess, That had I had half his Application, I still

think I might have shewn myself twice the Actor that in my highest State

of Favour I appear'd to be. But if I have any Excuse for that Neglect (a

Fault which, if I loved not Truth, I need not have mentioned) it is that

so much of my Attention was taken up in an incessant Labour to guard

against our private Animosities, and preserve a Harmony in our Menagement,

that I hope and believe it made ample Amends for whatever Omission my

Auditors might sometimes know it cost me some pains to conceal. But Nature

takes care to bestow her Blessings with a more equal Hand than Fortune

does, and is seldom known to heap too many upon one Man: One tolerable

Talent in an Individual is enough to preserve him from being good for

nothing; and, if that was not laid to my Charge as an Actor, I have in

this Light too, less to complain of than to be thankful for.

Before I conclude my History, it may be expected I should give some

further View of these my last Cotemporaries of the Theatre, _Wilks_ and

_Booth_, in their different acting Capacities. If I were to paint them in

the Colours they laid upon one another, their Talents would not be shewn

with half the Commendation I am inclined to bestow upon them, when they

are left to my own Opinion. But People of the same Profession are apt to

see themselves in their own clear Glass of Partiality, and look upon their

Equals through a Mist of Prejudice. It might be imagin'd, too, from the

difference of their natural Tempers, that _Wilks_ should have been more

blind to the Excellencies of _Booth_ than _Booth_ was to those of _Wilks_;

but it was not so: _Wilks_ would sometimes commend _Booth_ to me; but when

_Wilks_ excell'd, the other was silent:[183] _Booth_ seem'd to think

nothing valuable that was not tragically Great or Marvellous: Let that be

as true as it may; yet I have often thought that, from his having no Taste

of Humour himself,[184] he might be too much inclin'd to depreciate the

Acting of it in others. The very slight Opinion which in private

Conversation with me he had of _Wilks_'s acting Sir _Harry Wildair_, was

certainly more than could be justified; not only from the general Applause

that was against that Opinion (tho' Applause is not always infallible)

but from the visible Capacity which must be allow'd to an Actor, that

could carry such slight Materials to such a height of Approbation: For,

though the Character of _Wildair_ scarce in any one Scene will stand

against a just Criticism; yet in the Whole there are so many gay and false

Colours of the fine Gentleman, that nothing but a Vivacity in the

Performance proportionably extravagant could have made them so happily

glare upon a common Audience.

_Wilks_, from his first setting out, certainly form'd his manner of

Acting upon the Model of _Monfort_;[185] as _Booth_ did his on that of

_Betterton_. But----_Haud passibus æquis_: I cannot say either of them

came up to their Original. _Wilks_ had not that easy regulated Behaviour,

or the harmonious Elocution of the One, nor _Booth_ that Conscious Aspect

of Intelligence nor requisite Variation of Voice that made every Line the

Other spoke seem his own natural self-deliver'd Sentiment: Yet there is

still room for great Commendation of Both the first mentioned; which will

not be so much diminish'd in my having said they were only excell'd by

such Predecessors, as it will be rais'd in venturing to affirm it will be

a longer time before any Successors will come near them. Thus one of the

greatest Praises given to _Virgil_ is, that no Successor in Poetry came

so near _Him_ as _He_ himself did to _Homer_.

Though the Majority of Publick Auditors are but bad judges of Theatrical

Action, and are often deceiv'd into their Approbation of what has no solid

Pretence to it; yet, as there are no other appointed Judges to appeal to,

and as every single Spectator has a Right to be one of them, their

Sentence will be definitive, and the Merit of an Actor must, in some

degree, be weigh'd by it: By this Law, then, _Wilks_ was pronounced an

Excellent Actor; which, if the few true Judges did not allow him to be,

they were at least too candid to slight or discourage him. _Booth_ and he

were Actors so directly opposite in their Manner, that if either of them

could have borrowed a little of the other's Fault, they would Both have

been improv'd by it: If _Wilks_ had sometimes too violent a Vivacity;

_Booth_ as often contented himself with too grave a Dignity: The Latter

seem'd too much to heave up his Words, as the other to dart them to the

Ear with too quick and sharp a Vehemence: Thus _Wilks_ would too

frequently break into the Time and Measure of the Harmony by too many

spirited Accents in one Line; and _Booth_, by too solemn a Regard to

Harmony, would as often lose the necessary Spirit of it: So that (as I

have observ'd) could we have sometimes rais'd the one and sunk the other,

they had both been nearer to the mark. Yet this could not be always

objected to them: They had their Intervals of unexceptionable Excellence,

that more than balanc'd their Errors. The Master-piece of _Booth_ was

_Othello_: There he was most in Character, and seemed not more to animate

or please himself in it than his Spectators. 'Tis true he owed his last

and highest Advancement to his acting _Cato_: But it was the Novelty and

critical Appearance of that Character that chiefly swell'd the Torrent of

his Applause: For let the Sentiments of a declaiming Patriot have all the

Sublimity that Poetry can raise them to; let them be deliver'd, too, with

the utmost Grace and Dignity of Elocution that can recommend them to the

Auditor: Yet this is but one Light wherein the Excellence of an Actor can

shine: But in _Othello_ we may see him in the Variety of Nature: There the

Actor is carried through the different Accidents of domestick Happiness

and Misery, occasionally torn and tortur'd by the most distracting Passion

that can raise Terror or Compassion in the Spectator. Such are the

Characters that a Master Actor would delight in; and therefore in

_Othello_ I may safely aver that _Booth_ shew'd himself thrice the Actor

that he could in _Cato_. And yet his Merit in acting _Cato_ need not be

diminish'd by this Comparison.

_Wilks_ often regretted that in Tragedy he had not the full and strong

Voice of _Booth_ to command and grace his Periods with: But _Booth_ us'd

to say, That if his Ear had been equal to it, _Wilks_ had Voice enough to

have shewn himself a much better Tragedian. Now, though there might be

some Truth in this; yet these two Actors were of so mixt a Merit, that

even in Tragedy the Superiority was not always on the same side: In

Sorrow, Tenderness, or Resignation, _Wilks_ plainly had the Advantage,

and seem'd more pathetically to feel, look, and express his Calamity:

But in the more turbulent Transports of the Heart, _Booth_ again bore

the Palm, and left all Competitors behind him. A Fact perhaps will set

this Difference in a clearer Light. I have formerly seen _Wilks_ act

_Othello_,[186] and _Booth_ the _Earl of Essex_,[187] in which they both

miscarried: Neither the exclamatory Rage or Jealousy of the one, or the

plaintive Distresses of the other, were happily executed, or became either

of them; though in the contrary Characters they were both excellent.

When an Actor becomes and naturally Looks the Character he stands in, I

have often observ'd it to have had as fortunate an Effect, and as much

recommended him to the Approbation of the common Auditors, as the most

correct or judicious Utterance of the Sentiments: This was strongly

visible in the favourable Reception _Wilks_ met with in _Hamlet_, where

I own the Half of what he spoke was as painful to my Ear as every Line

that came from _Betterton_ was charming;[188] and yet it is not

impossible, could they have come to a Poll, but _Wilks_ might have had a

Majority of Admirers: However, such a Division had been no Proof that

the Præeminence had not still remain'd in _Betterton_; and if I should

add that _Booth_, too, was behind _Betterton_ in _Othello_, it would be

saying no more than _Booth_ himself had Judgment and Candour enough to

know and confess. And if both he and _Wilks_ are allow'd, in the two

above-mention'd Characters, a second Place to so great a Master as

_Betterton_, it will be a Rank of Praise that the best Actors since my

Time might have been proud of.

I am now come towards the End of that Time through which our Affairs had

long gone forward in a settled Course of Prosperity. From the Visible

Errors of former Menagements we had at last found the necessary Means to

bring our private Laws and Orders into the general Observance and

Approbation of our Society: Diligence and Neglect were under an equal

Eye; the one never fail'd of its Reward, and the other, by being very

rarely excus'd, was less frequently committed. You are now to consider

us in our height of Favour, and so much in fashion with the politer Part

of the Town, that our House every _Saturday_ seem'd to be the appointed

Assembly of the First Ladies of Quality: Of this, too, the common

Spectators were so well appriz'd, that for twenty Years successively, on

that Day, we scarce ever fail'd of a crowded Audience; for which

Occasion we particularly reserv'd our best Plays, acted in the best

Manner we could give them.[189]

Among our many necessary Reformations; what not a little preserv'd to us

the Regard of our Auditors, was the Decency of our clear Stage;[190]

from whence we had now, for many Years, shut out those idle Gentlemen,

who seem'd more delighted to be pretty Objects themselves, than capable

of any Pleasure from the Play: Who took their daily Stands where they

might best elbow the Actor, and come in for their Share of the Auditor's

Attention. In many a labour'd Scene of the warmest Humour and of the

most affecting Passion have I seen the best Actors disconcerted, while

these buzzing Muscatos have been fluttering round their Eyes and Ears.

How was it possible an Actor, so embarrass'd, should keep his Impatience

from entering into that different Temper which his personated Character

might require him to be Master of?

Future Actors may perhaps wish I would set this Grievance in a stronger

Light; and, to say the Truth, where Auditors are ill-bred, it cannot

well be expected that Actors should be polite. Let me therefore shew how

far an Artist in any Science is apt to be hurt by any sort of

Inattention to his Performance.

While the famous _Corelli_,[191] at _Rome_, was playing some Musical

Composition of his own to a select Company in the private Apartment of

his Patron-Cardinal, he observed, in the height of his Harmony, his

Eminence was engaging in a detach'd Conversation; upon which he suddenly

stopt short, and gently laid down his Instrument: The Cardinal,

surpriz'd at the unexpected Cessation, ask'd him if a String was broke?

To which _Corelli_, in an honest Conscience of what was due to his

Musick, reply'd, No, Sir, I was only afraid I interrupted Business. His

Eminence, who knew that a Genius could never shew itself to Advantage

where it had not its proper Regards, took this Reproof in good Part, and

broke off his Conversation to hear the whole _Concerto_ play'd over

again.

Another Story will let us see what Effect a mistaken Offence of this

kind had upon the _French_ Theatre; which was told me by a Gentleman of

the long Robe, then at _Paris_, and who was himself the innocent Author

of it. At the Tragedy of _Zaire_, while the celebrated Mademoiselle

_Gossin_[192] was delivering a Soliloquy, this Gentleman was seiz'd

with a sudden Fit of Coughing, which gave the Actress some Surprize and

Interruption; and his Fit increasing, she was forced to stand silent so

long, that it drew the Eyes of the uneasy Audience upon him; when a

_French_ Gentleman, leaning forward to him, ask'd him, If this Actress

had given him any particular Offence, that he took so publick an

Occasion to resent it? The _English_ Gentleman, in the utmost Surprize,

assured him, So far from it, that he was a particular Admirer of her

Performance; that his Malady was his real Misfortune, and if he

apprehended any Return of it, he would rather quit his Seat than

disoblige either the Actress or the Audience.

This publick Decency in their Theatre I have myself seen carried so far,

that a Gentleman in their _second Loge_, or Middle-Gallery, being

observ'd to sit forward himself while a Lady sate behind him, a loud

Number of Voices call'd out to him from the Pit, _Place à la Dame!_

_Place à la Dame!_ When the Person so offending, either not apprehending

the Meaning of the Clamour, or possibly being some _John Trott_ who

fear'd no Man alive; the Noise was continued for several Minutes; nor

were the Actors, though ready on the Stage, suffer'd to begin the Play

'till this unbred Person was laugh'd out of his Seat, and had placed the

Lady before him.

Whether this Politeness observ'd at Plays may be owing to their Clime,

their Complexion, or their Government, is of no great Consequence; but

if it is to be acquired, methinks it is pity our accomplish'd

Countrymen, who every Year import so much of this Nation's gawdy

Garniture, should not, in this long Course of our Commerce with them,

have brought over a little of their Theatrical Good-breeding too.

I have been the more copious upon this Head, that it might be judg'd how

much it stood us upon to have got rid of those improper Spectators I

have been speaking of: For whatever Regard we might draw by keeping them

at a Distance from our Stage, I had observed, while they were admitted

behind our Scenes, we but too often shew'd them the wrong Side of our

Tapestry; and that many a tolerable Actor was the less valued when it

was known what ordinary Stuff he was made of.

Among the many more disagreeable Distresses that are almost unavoidable in

the Government of a Theatre, those we so often met with from the

Persecution of bad Authors were what we could never intirely get rid of.

But let us state both our Cases, and then see where the Justice of the

Complaint lies. 'Tis true, when an ingenious Indigent had taken perhaps a

whole Summer's Pains, _invitâ Minervâ_, to heap up a Pile of Poetry into

the Likeness of a Play, and found, at last, the gay Promise of his

Winter's Support was rejected and abortive, a Man almost ought to be a

Poet himself to be justly sensible of his Distress! Then, indeed, great

Allowances ought to be made for the severe Reflections he might naturally

throw upon those pragmatical Actors, who had no Sense or Taste of good

Writing. And yet, if his Relief was only to be had by his imposing a bad

Play upon a good Set of Actors, methinks the Charity that first looks at

home has as good an Excuse for its Coldness as the unhappy Object of it

had a Plea for his being reliev'd at their Expence. But immediate Want was

not always confess'd their Motive for Writing; Fame, Honour, and

_Parnassian_ Glory had sometimes taken a romantick Turn in their Heads;

and then they gave themselves the Air of talking to us in a higher

Strain--Gentlemen were not to be so treated! the Stage was like to be

finely govern'd when Actors pretended to be Judges of Authors, &_c._ But,

dear Gentlemen! if they were good Actors, why not? How should they have

been able to act, or rise to any Excellence, if you supposed them not to

feel or understand what you offer'd them? Would you have reduc'd them to

the meer Mimickry of Parrots and Monkies, that can only prate, and play a

great many pretty Tricks, without Reflection? Or how are you sure your

Friend, the infallible Judge to whom you read your fine Piece, might be

sincere in the Praises he gave it? Or, indeed, might not you have thought

the best Judge a bad one if he had disliked it? Consider, too, how

possible it might be that a Man of Sense would not care to tell you a

Truth he was sure you would not believe! And if neither _Dryden_,

_Congreve_, _Steele_, _Addison_, nor _Farquhar_, (if you please) ever made

any Complaint of their Incapacity to judge, why is the World to believe

the Slights you have met with from them are either undeserved or

particular? Indeed! indeed, I am not conscious that we ever did you or any

of your Fraternity the least Injustice![193] Yet this was not all we had

to struggle with; to supersede our Right of rejecting, the Recommendation,

or rather Imposition, of some great Persons (whom it was not Prudence to

disoblige) sometimes came in with a high Hand to support their

Pretensions; and then, _cout que cout_, acted it must be! So when the

short Life of this wonderful Nothing was over, the Actors were perhaps

abus'd in a Preface for obstructing the Success of it, and the Town

publickly damn'd us for our private Civility.[194]

I cannot part with these fine Gentlemen Authors without mentioning a

ridiculous _Disgraccia_ that befel one of them many Years ago: This

solemn Bard, who, like _Bays_, only writ for Fame and Reputation; on the

second Day's publick Triumph of his Muse, marching in a stately

full-bottom'd Perriwig into the Lobby of the House, with a Lady of

Condition in his Hand, when raising his Voice to the Sir _Fopling_

Sound, that _became the Mouth of a Man of Quality_, and calling

out--Hey! Box-keeper, where is my Lady such-a-one's Servant, was

unfortunately answer'd by honest _John Trott_, (which then happen'd to

be the Box-keeper's real Name) Sir, we have dismiss'd, there was not

Company enough to pay Candles. In which mortal Astonishment it may be

sufficient to leave him. And yet had the Actors refus'd this Play, what

Resentment might have been thought too severe for them?

Thus was our Administration often censured for Accidents which were not

in our Power to prevent: A possible Case in the wisest Governments. If,

therefore, some Plays have been preferr'd to the Stage that were never

fit to have been seen there, let this be our best Excuse for it. And

yet, if the Merit of our rejecting the many bad Plays that press'd hard

upon us were weigh'd against the few that were thus imposed upon us, our

Conduct in general might have more Amendments of the Stage to boast of

than Errors to answer for. But it is now Time to drop the Curtain.

During our four last Years there happen'd so very little unlike what

has been said before, that I shall conclude with barely mentioning

those unavoidable Accidents that drew on our Dissolution. The first,

that for some Years had led the way to greater, was the continued ill

State of Health that render'd _Booth_[195] incapable of appearing on

the Stage. The next was the Death of Mrs. _Oldfield_,[196] which

happen'd on the 23d of _October_, 1730. About the same Time, too,

Mrs. _Porter_, then in her highest Reputation for Tragedy, was lost

to us by the Misfortune of a dislocated Limb from the overturning of

a _Chaise_.[197] And our last Stroke was the Death of _Wilks_, in

_September_ the Year following, 1731.[198]

[Illustration: CHARLES FLEETWOOD.]

Notwithstanding such irreparable Losses; whether, when these favourite

Actors were no more to be had, their Successors might not be better born

with than they could possibly have hop'd while the former were in

being; or that the generality of Spectators, from their want of Taste,

were easier to be pleas'd than the few that knew better: Or that, at

worst, our Actors were still preferable to any other Company of the

several then subsisting: Or to whatever Cause it might be imputed, our

Audiences were far less abated than our Apprehensions had suggested. So

that, though it began to grow late in Life with me; having still Health

and Strength enough to have been as useful on the Stage as ever, I was

under no visible Necessity of quitting it: But so it happen'd that our

surviving Fraternity having got some chimærical, and, as I thought,

unjust Notions into their Heads, which, though I knew they were without

much Difficulty to be surmounted; I chose not, at my time of Day, to

enter into new Contentions; and as I found an Inclination in some of

them to purchase the whole Power of the Patent into their own Hands; I

did my best while I staid with them to make it worth their while to come

up to my Price; and then patiently sold out my Share to the first

Bidder, wishing the Crew I had left in the Vessel a good Voyage.[199]

What Commotions the Stage fell into the Year following, or from what

Provocations the greatest Part of the Actors revolted, and set up for

themselves in the little House in the _Hay-Market_, lies not within the

Promise of my Title Page to relate: Or, as it might set some Persons

living in a Light they possibly might not chuse to be seen in, I will

rather be thankful for the involuntary Favour they have done me, than

trouble the Publick with private Complaints of fancied or real Injuries.

_FINIS_.

SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.

BY ROBERT W. LOWE.

[Illustration: Ad Lalauze, sc]

The transaction to which Cibber alludes in his last paragraph is one

with regard to which he probably felt that his conduct required some

explanation. After the death of Steele, a Patent was granted to Cibber,

Wilks, and Booth, empowering them to give plays at Drury Lane, or

elsewhere, for a period of twenty-one years from 1st September,

1732.[200] Just after it came into operation Wilks died, and his share

in the Patent became the property of his wife. Booth, shortly before his

death, which occurred in May, 1733, sold half of his share for £2,500,

to John Highmore, a gentleman who seems to have been a typical amateur

manager, being possessed of some money, no judgment, and unbounded

vanity. In making this purchase Highmore stipulated that, with half of

Booth's share, he should receive the whole of his authority; and he

accordingly exercised the same power of control as had belonged to

Booth. Mrs. Wilks deputed Mr. John Ellys, the painter, to be her

representative, so that Cibber had to manage the affairs of the theatre

in conjunction with a couple of amateurs, both ignorant, and one

certainly presumptuous also. He delegated his authority for a time to

his scapegrace son, Theophilus, who probably made himself so

objectionable that Highmore was glad to buy the father's share in the

Patent also.[201] He paid three thousand guineas for it, thus purchasing

a whole share for a sum not much exceeding that which he had paid for

one-half. Highmore's first purchase took place in the autumn of 1732,

his second somewhere about May, 1733; so that, when Drury Lane opened

for the season 1733-34, he possessed one-half of the three shares into

which the Patent was divided. Mrs. Wilks retained her share, but Mrs.

Booth had sold her remaining half-share to Henry Giffard,[202] the

manager of Goodman's Fields Theatre, at which, eight years later,

Garrick made his first appearance. Highmore had scarcely entered upon

his fuller authority when a revolt was spirited up among his actors, the

chief of whom left him in a body to open the little theatre in the

Haymarket. Shameful to relate, the ringleader in this mutiny was

Theophilus Cibber; and, what is still more disgraceful, Colley Cibber

lent them his active countenance. Benjamin Victor, though a devoted

friend of Colley Cibber, characterizes the transaction as most

dishonest,[203] and there is no reason to doubt the accuracy of his

information or the soundness of his judgment. Davies ("Life of Garrick,"

i. 76) states that Colley Cibber applied to the Duke of Grafton, then

Lord Chamberlain, for a new License or Patent in favour of his son; but

the Duke, on inquiring into the matter, was so disgusted at Cibber's

conduct that he refused the application with strong expressions of

disapprobation. The seceders had of course no Patent or License under

which to act; but, from the circumstance that they took the name of

Comedians of His Majesty's Revels, it is probable that they received a

License from the Master of the Revels, Charles Henry Lee. Highmore,

deserted by every actor of any importance except Miss Raftor (Mrs.

Clive), Mrs. Horton, and Bridgwater, was at his wits' end. He summoned

the seceders for an infringement of his Patent, but his case, tried on

5th November, 1733, was dismissed, apparently on some technical plea. He

could not prevail upon the Lord Chamberlain to exert his authority to

close the Haymarket, so he determined to try the efficacy of the Vagrant

Act (12 Queen Anne) against the irregular performers. John Harper

accordingly was arrested on 12th November, 1733, and committed to

Bridewell. On the 20th of the same month he was tried before the Court

of King's Bench as a rogue and vagabond; but, whether from the

circumstance that Harper was a householder, or from a decision that

playing at the Haymarket was not an act of vagrancy,[204] he was

discharged upon his own recognizance, and the manager's action failed.

He had therefore to bring actors from the country to make up his

company; but of these Macklin was the only one who proved of any

assistance, and the unfortunate Highmore, after meeting deficiencies of

fifty or sixty pounds each week for some months, was forced to give up

the struggle.[205] Another amateur then stepped into the breach--Charles

Fleetwood, who purchased the shares of Highmore and Mrs. Wilks for

little more than the former had paid for his own portion. Giffard seems

to have retained his sixth of the Patent. Fleetwood first set about

regaining the services of the seceders, and, as the majority of them

were probably ashamed of following the leadership of Theophilus Cibber,

he succeeded at once. The last performance at the Haymarket took place

on 9th March, 1734, and on the 12th the deserters reappeared on Drury

Lane stage. This transaction ended Colley Cibber's direct interference

in the affairs of the theatre, and his only subsequent connection with

the stage was as an actor. His first appearance after his retirement was

on 31st October, 1734, when he played his great character of Bayes.

During the season he acted Lord Foppington, Sir John Brute, Sir Courtly

Nice, and Sir Fopling Flutter; and on 26th February, 1735, he appeared

as Fondlewife for the benefit of his old friend and partner, Owen

Swiney.[206] At the end of the season 1734-5, an arrangement was under

consideration by which a committee of actors, including Mills, Johnson,

Miller, Theo. Cibber, Mrs. Heron, Mrs. Butler, and others, were to rent

Drury Lane from Fleetwood, for fifteen years, at £920 per annum; but the

arrangement does not appear to have been carried out, and Fleetwood

continued Patentee of Drury Lane until 1744-5.

The rival company, under the control of John Rich, acted at Lincoln's Inn

Fields from 18th December, 1714, to 5th December, 1732; then they removed

to the new Covent Garden Theatre, which was opened on 7th December with

"The Way of the World." For several seasons both companies dragged along

very uneventfully, so far as the artistic advancement of the stage was

concerned, although the passing of the Licensing Act of 1737, already

fully commented on, was an event of great historical importance.

Artistically the period was one of rest, if not of retrogression; the

methods of the older time were losing their meaning and vitality, and were

becoming mere dry bones of tradition. The high priest of the stage was

James Quin, a great actor, though not of the first order; and among the

younger players perhaps the most notable was Charles Macklin, rough in

manner as in person, but full of genius and a thorough reformer. Garrick

was the direct means of revolutionizing the methods of the theatre, and it

was his genius that swept away the formality and dulness of the old

school; but it ought to be remembered that the way was prepared for him by

Charles Macklin, whose rescue of Shylock from low comedy was an

achievement scarcely inferior to Garrick's greatest. During this dull

period Cibber's appearances must have had an importance and interest,

which, after Garrick's advent, they lacked.

In the season 1735-6 he acted Sir Courtly Nice and Bayes, and in the

next season his play of "Papal Tyranny in the Reign of King John," a

miserable mutilation of Shakespeare's "King John," was put in rehearsal

at Drury Lane. But such a storm of ridicule and abuse arose when this

play was announced, that Cibber withdrew it,[207] and it was not seen

till 1745, when, the nation being in fear of a Popish Pretender, it was

produced at Covent Garden from patriotic motives.

Cibber's implacable foe, Fielding, was one of the ringleaders in the

attack on him for mutilating Shakespeare; and in his "Historical Register

for 1736,"[208] in which Colley is introduced as "Ground-Ivy,"[209] gives

him the following excellent rebuke:--

"_Medley._ As _Shakspear_ is already good enough for People of Taste,

he must be alter'd to the Palates of those who have none; and if you

will grant that, who can be properer to alter him for the worse?"

In 1738, having, as Victor says ("History," ii. 48), "Health and

Strength enough to be as useful as ever," he agreed with Fleetwood to

perform a round of his favourite characters. He was successful in

comedy, but in tragedy he felt that his strength was no longer

sufficient; and Victor relates that, going behind the scenes while the

third act of "Richard III." was on, he was told in a whisper by the old

man, "That he would give fifty Guineas to be then sitting in his easy

Chair by his own Fire-side." Probably he never played in tragedy again

until the production of his own "Papal Tyranny"--at least I cannot

discover that he did. In 1740-1 he acted Fondlewife for the benefit of

Chetwood, late prompter at Drury Lane, who was then imprisoned in the

King's Bench for debt; and his reception was so favourable that he

repeated the character a second and third time for his own profit.[210]

Upon these occasions he spoke an "Epilogue upon Himself," which is given

in "The Egotist" (p. 57 _et seq._), and forms so good an epitome of

Cibber's philosophy, besides giving an excellent specimen of his style,

that I quote it at length:--

"Now worn with Years, and yet in Folly strong,

Now to act Parts, your Grandsires saw when Young!

What could provoke me!--I was always wrong.

To hope, with Age, I could advance in Merit!

Even Age well acted, asks a youthful Spirit:

To feel my Wants, yet shew 'em thus detected,

Is living to the Dotage, I have acted!

T' have acted only Once excus'd might be,

When I but play'd the Fool for Charity!

But fondly to repeat it!--Senseless Ninny!

--No--now--as Doctors do--I touch the Guinea!

And while I find my Doses can affect you,

'Twere greater Folly still, should I neglect you.

Though this Excuse, at _White'_s they'll not allow me;

The Ralliers There, in Diff'rent Lights will shew me.

They'll tell you There: I only act--sly Rogue!

To play with _Cocky_![211]--O! the doting Dog!

And howsoe'er an Audience might regard me,

One--_tiss ye Nykin_,[212] amply might reward me!

Let them enjoy the Jest, with Laugh incessant!

For True, or False, or Right, or Wrong, 'tis pleasant!

Mixt, in the wisest Heads, we find some Folly;

Yet I find few such happy Fools--as _Colley_!

So long t'have liv'd the daily Satire's Stroke, }

Unmov'd by Blows, that might have fell'd an Oak, }

And yet have laugh'd the labour'd Libel to a Joke. }

Suppose such want of Feeling prove me dull!

What's my Aggressor then--a peevish Fool!

The strongest Satire's on a Blockhead lost;

For none but Fools or Madmen strike a Post.

If for my Folly's larger List you call,

My Life has lump'd 'em! There you'll read 'em all.

There you'll find Vanity, wild Hopes pursuing;

A wide Attempt: to save the Stage from Ruin!

There I confess, I have _out-done_ my _own out-doing_![213]

As for what's left of Life, if still 'twill do;

'Tis at your Service, pleas'd while pleasing you:

But then, mistake me not! when you've enough;

One slender House declares both Parties off:

Or Truth in homely Proverb to advance,

I pipe no longer than you care to dance."

The representative of Lætitia (or _Cocky_) alluded to in this Epilogue

was Mrs. Woffington, with whom stage-history has identified the

"Susannah" of the following well-known anecdote, which I quote from an

attack upon Cibber, published in 1742, entitled "A Blast upon _Bays_;

or, A New Lick at the Laureat." The author writes: "No longer ago than

when the _Bedford Coffee house_ was in Vogue, and Mr. _Cibber_ was

writing _An Apology for his own Life_, there was one Mr. S---- (the

Importer of an expensive _Haymarket_ Comedy) an old Acquaintance of Mr.

_Cibber_, who, as well as he, retain'd a Smack of his antient Taste. In

those Days there was also a fair smirking Damsel, whose name was

_Susannah-Maria_ * * *, who happen'd to have Charms sufficient to revive

the decay'd Vigour of these two Friends. They equally pursued her, even

to the _Hazard of their Health_, and were frequently seen dangling after

her, with tottering Knees, at one and the same Time. You have heard,

Sir, what a witty Friend of your own said once on this Occasion: _Lo!

yonder goes_ Susannah _and the two Elders._" Even Genest has applied

this anecdote to Mrs. Woffington, but the only circumstance that lends

confirmation to this view is the fact that Swiney (who is Mr. S----)

left her his estate. Against this must be set the important points that

Susannah Maria was not Mrs. Woffington's name, and that the joke

depended for its neatness and applicability on the name Susannah. The

narrator of the story, also, gives no hint that the damsel was the

famous actress, as he certainly would have done; and, most important of

all, it must be pointed out that at the period mentioned, that is, while

Cibber was writing his "Apology," Mrs. Woffington had not appeared in

London. The "Apology" was published in April, 1740, and had probably

been completed in the preceding November; while Mrs. Woffington made her

London _débût_ on 6th November, 1740.[214]

During the season 1741-2, "At the particular desire of several persons

of Quality," Cibber made a few appearances at Covent Garden; the

purpose being, in all probability, to oppose the extraordinary

attraction of Garrick at Goodman's Fields. In 1743-4 he played at the

same theatre as Garrick, being engaged at Drury Lane for a round of his

famous characters; but there is no record that Garrick and he appeared

in the same play. For the new actor Cibber had, naturally enough, no

great admiration. He must have resented deeply the alteration in the

method of acting tragedy which Garrick introduced, and is always

reported as having lost no opportunity of expressing his low opinion of

the new school.[215]

His last appearances on the stage were in direct rivalry with his young

opponent. As has been related, Cibber's alteration of "King John," which

had been "burked" in 1736-7, was produced, from patriotic motives, in

1745. As the principal purpose of the alteration was to make King John

resent the insolence of the Pope's Nuncio in a much more emphatic manner

than he does in Shakespeare, it may easily be imagined how wretched a

production Cibber's play is. Genest's criticism is not too strong when

he says (iv. 161): "In a word, Cibber has on this occasion shown himself

utterly void of taste, judgment and modesty--well might Fielding call

him Ground-Ivy, and say that no man was better calculated to alter

Shakspeare for the worse ... in the Epilogue (which was spoken by Mrs.

Clive) Cibber speaks of himself with modesty, but in the dedication,

being emboldened by the favourable reception of his Tragedy, he has the

insolence to say '_I have endeavoured to make it more like a play than I

found it in Shakspeare._'" "Papal Tyranny" was produced at Covent Garden

on 15th February, 1745,[216] and, in opposition to it, Shakespeare's

play was put up at Drury Lane, with Garrick as King John, Macklin as

Pandulph, and Mrs. Cibber (the great Mrs. Cibber, wife of Theophilus) as

Constance. Cibber's play was, nevertheless, successful; the profit

resulting to the author being, according to Victor, four hundred pounds,

which he wisely laid out in a profitable annuity with Lord Mountford. In

this play Cibber made his last appearance on the stage, on 26th

February, 1745, on which day "Papal Tyranny" was played for the tenth

time. "After which," says Victor ("History," ii. 49) "he retired to his

easy Chair and his Chariot, to waste the Remains of Life with a

chearful, contented Mind, without the least bodily Complaint, but that

of a slow, unavoidable Decay."

His state of mind was probably the more "chearful and contented" because

of his unquestionable success in his tilt with the formidable author of

"The Dunciad;" a success none the less certain at the time, that the

enduring fame of Pope has caused Cibber's triumph over him to be lost

sight of now. The progress of the quarrel between these enemies has

already been related up to the publication of Cibber's "Apology" (see

vol. i. p. 36), and on pages 21, 35, and 36 of the first volume of this

edition will be found Cibber's perfectly good-natured and proper remarks

on Pope's attacks on him. Whether the very fact that Cibber did not show

temper irritated his opponent, I do not know; but it probably did so,

for in the fourth book of "The Dunciad," published in 1742, Pope had

another fling at his opponent (line 17):--

"She mounts the throne: her head a cloud conceal'd,

In broad effulgence all below reveal'd;

('Tis thus aspiring Dulness ever shines:)

Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines."

And in line 532 he talks of "Cibberian forehead" as typical of

unblushing impudence.

It is not surprising that this last attack exhausted Cibber's patience.

He had hitherto received his punishment with good temper and good

humour; but his powerful enemy had not therefore held his hand. He now

determined to retaliate. Conscious of the diseased susceptibility of

Pope to ridicule, he felt himself quite capable of replying, not with

equal literary power, but with much superior practical effect.

Accordingly in 1742 there appeared a pamphlet entitled "A Letter from

Mr. Cibber, to Mr. Pope, inquiring into the motives that might induce

him in his Satyrical Works, to be so frequently fond of Mr. Cibber's

name." To it was prefixed the motto: "_Out of thy own Mouth will I judge

thee._ Pref. to the _Dunciad_."

Cibber commences by stating that he had been persuaded to reply to Pope

by his friends; who insisted that for him to treat his attacker any

longer with silent disdain might be thought a confession of Dulness

indeed. This is a highly probable statement; for an encounter between

the vivacious Cibber and the thin-skinned Pope promised a wealth of

amusement for those who looked on--a promise which was amply fulfilled.

Cibber proceeds to assure Pope that, having entered the lists, he will

not in future avoid the fray, but reply to every attack made on

him.[217] He confesses his vast inferiority to Pope, but adds: "I own

myself so contented a Dunce, that I would not have even your merited

Fame in Poetry, if it were to be attended with half the fretful

Solicitude you seem to have lain under to maintain it; of which the

laborious Rout you make about it, in those Loads of Prose Rubbish,

wherewith you have almost smother'd your _Dunciad_, is so sore a Proof."

On page 17 of his "Letter" Cibber gives an interesting account of a

quarrel between Pope and himself, to which he, with sufficient

probability, attributes much of Pope's enmity. The passage is curious

and important, so I quote it in full:--

[Illustration: ALEXANDER POPE.]

"The Play of the _Rehearsal_, which had lain some few Years dormant,

being by his present Majesty (then Prince of _Wales_) commanded to be

revived, the Part of _Bays_ fell to my share. To this Character there

had always been allow'd such ludicrous Liberties of Observation, upon

any thing new, or remarkable, in the state of the Stage, as Mr. _Bays_

might think proper to take. Much about this time, then, _The Three Hours

after Marriage_ had been acted without Success;[218] when Mr. _Bays_, as

usual, had a fling at it, which, in itself, was no Jest, unless the

Audience would please to make it one: But however, flat as it was, Mr.

_Pope_ was mortally sore upon it. This was the Offence. In this Play,

two Coxcombs, being in love with a learned Virtuoso's Wife, to get

unsuspected Access to her, ingeniously send themselves, as two presented

Rarities, to the Husband, the one curiously swath'd up like an

_Egyptian_ Mummy, and the other slily cover'd in the Pasteboard Skin of

a Crocodile: upon which poetical Expedient, I, Mr. _Bays_, when the two

Kings of _Brentford_ came from the Clouds into the Throne again, instead

of what my Part directed me to say, made use of these Words, viz. 'Now,

Sir, this Revolution, I had some Thoughts of introducing, by a quite

different Contrivance; but my Design taking air, some of your sharp

Wits, I found, had made use of it before me; otherwise I intended to

have stolen one of them in, in the Shape of a _Mummy_, and t'other, in

that of a _Crocodile_.' Upon which, I doubt, the Audience by the Roar of

their Applause shew'd their proportionable Contempt of the Play they

belong'd to. But why am I answerable for that? I did not lead them, by

any Reflection of my own, into that Contempt: Surely to have used the

bare Word _Mummy_, and _Crocodile_, was neither unjust, or unmannerly;

Where then was the Crime of simply saying there had been two such

things in a former Play? But this, it seems, was so heinously taken by

Mr. _Pope_, that, in the swelling of his Heart, after the Play was over,

he came behind the Scenes, with his Lips pale and his Voice trembling,

to call me to account for the Insult: And accordingly fell upon me with

all the foul Language, that a Wit out of his Senses could be capable

of----How durst I have the Impudence to treat any Gentleman in that

manner? _&c. &c. &c._ Now let the Reader judge by this Concern, who

was the true Mother of the Child! When he was almost choked with the

foam of his Passion, I was enough recover'd from my Amazement to make

him (as near as I can remember) this Reply, _viz._ 'Mr. _Pope_----You

are so particular a Man, that I must be asham'd to return your Language

as I ought to do: but since you have attacked me in so monstrous a

Manner; This you may depend upon, that so long as the Play continues to

be acted, I will never fail to repeat the same Words over and over

again.' Now, as he accordingly found I kept my Word, for several Days

following, I am afraid he has since thought, that his Pen was a sharper

Weapon than his Tongue to trust his Revenge with. And however just Cause

this may be for his so doing, it is, at least, the only Cause my

Conscience can charge me with. Now, as I might have concealed this Fact

if my Conscience would have suffered me, may we not suppose, Mr. _Pope_

would certainly have mention'd it in his _Dunciad_, had he thought it

could have been of service to him?"

Cibber afterwards proceeds to criticise and reply to allusions to

himself in Pope's works, some of which are in conspicuously bad taste.

Cibber, of course, does not miss the obvious point that to attack his

successful plays was a foolish proceeding on Pope's part, whose own

endeavours as a dramatist had been completely unsuccessful, and who thus

laid himself open to the charge of envy. Nor is this accusation so

ridiculous as it may seem to readers of to-day, for a successful

playwright was a notable public figure, and the delicious applause of

the crowded theatre was eagerly sought by even the most eminent men. And

again, it must be remembered that Pope's fame was not then the perfectly

assured matter that it is now.

But Cibber's great point, which made his opponent writhe with fury, was

a little anecdote--Dr. Johnson terms it "an idle story of Pope's

behaviour at a tavern"--which raised a universal shout of merriment at

Pope's expense. The excuse for its introduction was found in these lines

from the "Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot":--

"Whom have I hurt? has poet yet or peer

Lost the arch'd eyebrow or Parnassian sneer?

And has not Colley still his lord and whore?

His butchers Henley? his freemasons Moore?"

Cibber's anecdote cannot be defended on the ground of decency, but it is

extremely ludicrous, and in the state of society then existing it must

have been a knock-down blow to the unhappy subject of it. There can be

little doubt that it was this pamphlet which Pope received on the

occasion when the Richardsons visited him, as related by Johnson in his

Life of the poet: "I have heard Mr. Richardson relate that he attended

his father the painter on a visit, when one of Cibber's pamphlets came

into the hands of Pope, who said, 'These things are my diversion.' They

sat by him while he perused it, and saw his features writhing with

anguish: and young Richardson said to his father, when they returned,

that he hoped to be preserved from such diversion as had been that day

the lot of Pope." How deeply Pope was galled by Cibber's ludicrous

picture of him is manifested by the extraordinary revenge he took. And

even now we can realize the bitterness of the provocation when we read

the maliciously comic story of the vivacious Colley:--

"As to the first Part of the Charge, the _Lord_; Why--we have both had

him, and sometimes the _same_ Lord; but as there is neither Vice nor

Folly in keeping our Betters Company; the Wit or Satyr of the Verse! can

only point at my Lord for keeping such _ordinary_ Company. Well, but if

so! then _why_ so, good Mr. _Pope_? If either of us could be _good_

Company, our being professed Poets, I hope would be no Objection to my

Lord's sometimes making one with us? and though I don't pretend to write

like you, yet all the Requisites to make a good Companion are not

confined to Poetry! No, Sir, even a Man's inoffensive Follies and

Blunders may sometimes have their Merits at the best Table; and in

those, I am sure, you won't pretend to vie with me: Why then may not my

Lord be as much in the Right, in his sometimes choosing _Colley_ to

laugh at, as at other times in his picking up _Sawney_, whom he can only

admire?

"Thus far, then, I hope we are upon a par; for the Lord, you see, will

fit either of us.

"As to the latter Charge, the _Whore_, there indeed, I doubt you will

have the better of me; for I must own, that I believe I know more of

_your_ whoring than you do of _mine_; because I don't recollect that

ever I made you the least Confidence of _my_ Amours, though I have been

very near an Eye-Witness of _Yours_----By the way, gentle Reader, don't

you think, to say only, _a Man has his Whore_, without some particular

Circumstances to aggravate the Vice, is the flattest Piece of Satyr that

ever fell from the formidable Pen of Mr. _Pope_? because (_defendit

numerus_) take the first ten thousand Men you meet, and I believe, you

would be no Loser, if you betted ten to one that every single Sinner of

them, one with another, had been guilty of the same Frailty. But as Mr.

_Pope_ has so particularly picked me out of the Number to make an

Example of: Why may I not take the same Liberty, and even single him out

for another to keep me in Countenance? He must excuse me, then, if in

what I am going to relate, I am reduced to make bold with a little

private Conversation: But as he has shewn no Mercy to _Colley_, why

should so unprovok'd an Aggressor expect any for himself? And if Truth

hurts him, I can't help it. He may remember, then (or if he won't I

will) when _Button_'s Coffee-house was in vogue, and so long ago, as

when he had not translated above two or three Books of _Homer_; there

was a late young Nobleman (as much his _Lord_ as mine) who had a good

deal of wicked Humour, and who, though he was fond of having Wits in his

Company, was not so restrained by his Conscience, but that he lov'd to

laugh at any merry Mischief he could do them: This noble Wag, I say, in

his usual _Gayetè de Coeur_, with another Gentleman still in

Being,[219] one Evening slily seduced the celebrated Mr. _Pope_ as a

Wit, and myself as a Laugher, to a certain House of Carnal Recreation,

near the _Hay-Market_; where his Lordship's Frolick propos'd was to slip

his little _Homer_, as he call'd him, at a Girl of the Game, that he

might see what sort of Figure a Man of his Size, Sobriety, and Vigour

(in Verse) would make, when the frail Fit of Love had got into him; in

which he so far succeeded, that the smirking Damsel, who serv'd us with

Tea, happen'd to have Charms sufficient to tempt the little-tiny Manhood

of Mr. _Pope_ into the next Room with her: at which you may imagine, his

Lordship was in as much Joy, at what might happen within, as our small

Friend could probably be in Possession of it: But I (forgive me all ye

mortified Mortals whom his fell Satyr has since fallen upon) observing

he had staid as long as without hazard of his Health he might, I,

_Prick'd to it by foolish Honesty and Love,_

As _Shakespear_ says, without Ceremony, threw open the Door upon him,

where I found this little hasty Hero, like a terrible _Tom Tit_, pertly

perching upon the Mount of Love! But such was my Surprize, that I fairly

laid hold of his Heels, and actually drew him down safe and sound from

his Danger. My Lord, who staid tittering without, in hopes the sweet

Mischief he came for would have been compleated, upon my giving an

Account of the Action within, began to curse, and call me an hundred

silly Puppies, for my impertinently spoiling the Sport; to which with

great Gravity I reply'd; pray, my Lord, consider what I have done was,

in regard to the Honour of our Nation! For would you have had so

glorious a Work as that of making _Homer_ speak elegant _English_, cut

short by laying up our little Gentleman of a Malady, which his thin Body

might never have been cured of? No, my Lord! _Homer_ would have been too

serious a Sacrifice to our Evening Merriment. Now as his _Homer_ has

since been so happily compleated, who can say, that the World may not

have been obliged to the kindly Care of _Colley_ that so great a Work

ever came to Perfection?

"And now again, gentle Reader, let it be judged, whether the _Lord_ and

the _Whore_ above-mentioned might not, with equal Justice, have been

apply'd to sober _Sawney_ the Satyrist, as to _Colley_ the Criminal?

"Though I confess Recrimination to be but a poor Defence for one's own

Faults; yet when the Guilty are Accusers, it seems but just, to make use

of any Truth, that may invalidate their Evidence: I therefore hope,

whatever the serious Reader may think amiss in this Story, will be

excused, by my being so hardly driven to tell it."

In the remainder of Cibber's pamphlet there is not much that is of any

importance, though an allusion to one of Pope's victims having hung up a

birch in Button's Coffee House, wherewith to chastise his satirist, was

skilfully calculated to rouse Pope's temper. Cibber thoroughly succeeded

in this object,[220] perhaps to a degree that he rather regretted. Pope

made no direct reply to his banter, but in the following year (1743) a

new edition of "The Dunciad" appeared, in which Theobald was deposed

from the throne of Dulness, and Cibber elevated in his place. By doing

this Pope gratified his vengeance, but injured his poem, for the

carefully painted peculiarities of Theobald, a slow and pedantic

scholar, sat ill on the pert and vivacious Colley.[221] To this

retaliation Cibber, as he had promised,[222] replied with another

pamphlet, entitled "Another Occasional Letter from Mr. Cibber to Mr.

Pope. Wherein the New Hero's Preferment to his Throne, in the _Dunciad_,

seems not to be Accepted. And the Author of that Poem His more rightful

Claim to it, is Asserted. With An Expostulatory Address to the Reverend

Mr. _W. W----n_, Author of the new Preface, and Adviser in the curious

Improvements of that Satire." The motto on the title-page was:--

"----_Remember_ Sauney's _Fate!_

_Bang'd by the Blockhead, whom he strove to beat._

Parodie on Lord _Roscommon_."

There is little that is of any note in this production, which is

characterized by the same real or affected good-nature as marked the

former pamphlet. The most interesting passages to us are those alluding

to the effect of Cibber's previous attack, and exulting over Pope's

distress at it. For instance (on page 7):--

"And now, Sir, give me leave to be a little surpriz'd at the

impenetrable Skull of your Courage, that (after I had in my first

Letter) so heartily teiz'd, and toss'd, and tumbled you through all the

Mire, and Dirt, the madness of your Muse had been throwing at other

People, it could still, so Vixen like, sprawl out the same feeble Paw of

its Satyr, to have t'other Scratch at my Nose: But as I know the Vulgar

(with whose Applause I humbly content my self) are apt to laugh when

they see a curst Cat in a Kennel; so whenever I observe your _Grimalkin_

Spirit shew but the least grinning Gasp of Life, I shall take the honest

liberty of old _Towser_ the House-dog, and merrily lift up my Leg to

have a little more Game with you.

"Well Sir, in plainer Terms, I am now, you see, once more willing to

bring Matters to an Issue, or (as the Boxers say) to answer your

Challenge, and come to a Trial of Manhood with you; though by our slow

Proceedings, we seem rather to be at _Law_, than at _Loggerheads_ with

one another; and if you had not been a blinder Booby, than my self, you

would have sate down quietly, with the last black Eye I gave you: For so

loath was I to squabble with you, that though you had been snapping, and

snarling at me for twenty Years together, you saw, I never so much as

gave you a single Growl, or took any notice of you. At last, 'tis true,

in meer Sport for others, rather than from the least Tincture of Concern

for my self, I was inticed to be a little wanton, not to say waggish,

with your Character; by which having (you know) got the strong Laugh on

my Side, I doubt I have so offended the Gravity, and Greatness of your

Soul, that to secure your more ample Revenge, you have prudently taken

the full Term of thirteen Months Consideration, before you would pour

it, upon me! But at last, it seems, we have it, and now Souse! out comes

your old _Dunciad_, in a new Dress, like fresh Gold, upon stale

Gingerbread, sold out in Penny-worth's of shining King _Colley_, crown'd

the Hero of Immortal Stupidity!"

And again (on page 15): "At your Peril be it, little Gentleman, for I

shall have t'other Frisk with you, and don't despair that the very

Notice I am now taking of you, will once more make your Fame fly, like a

yelping Cur with a Bottle at his Tail, the Jest and Joy of every

Bookseller's Prentice between _Wapping_ and _Westminster_!"

To this pamphlet Pope, whose infirmities were very great, made no reply,

and Cibber had, as he had vowed, the last word. Round the central

articles of this quarrel a crowd of supplementary productions had

gathered, a list of which will be found in the Bibliography of Cibber a

few pages on.

Cibber's position of Poet Laureate furnished him with a steady income

during his declining years, and his Odes were turned out as required,

with mechanical precision and most unpoetic spirit. They were the

standing joke of the pamphleteers and news-sheet writers, and were

always accompanied with a running fire of banter and parody. Those

curious in the matter will find excellent specimens, both of the Odes

and the burlesques, in the early volumes of the "Gentleman's Magazine."

After the termination of his quarrel with Pope, Cibber's life was very

uneventful; and, although it extended far beyond the allotted span, he

continued to enjoy it to the very end. Horace Walpole greeted him one

day, saying, "I am glad, Sir, to see you looking so well." "Egad, Sir,"

replied the old man, "at eighty-four it is well for a man that he can

look at all." On 11th December, 1757, he died, having attained the great

age of eighty-six.[223] Dr. Doran "Their Majesties' Servants," (1888

edition, ii. 235) says: "I read in contemporary publications that there

'died at his house in Berkeley Square, Colley Cibber, Esq., Poet

Laureate;'" and although it has been stated that he died at Islington, I

see no reason to doubt Dr. Doran's explicit statement. Cibber was buried

in the Danish Church, Wellclose Square.[224]

So far as we know, only two of Cibber's children survived him, his

ne'er-do-well son Theophilus, and his equally scapegrace daughter

Charlotte, who married Charke the musician. The former was born in 1703,

and was drowned in the winter of 1758, while crossing to Ireland to

fulfil an engagement in Dublin. As an actor he was chiefly famous for

playing Ancient Pistol, but he was also excellent in some of his

father's characters, such as Lord Foppington, Bayes, and Sir Francis

Wronghead. His private life was in the last degree disreputable, and

especially so in his relations with his second wife, Susanna Maria

Arne--the great Mrs. Cibber. The literature regarding Theophilus Cibber

is considerable in quantity and curious in quality. Some account of it

will be found in my "Bibliographical Account of English Theatrical

Literature," pp. 52-55. Charlotte Charke, who was born about 1710, and

died in April, 1760, was of no note as an actress. Her private life,

however, was madly eccentric, and her autobiography, published in 1755,

is a curious and scarce work.

Cibber's principal plays have been noted in the course of his "Apology;"

but, for the sake of convenience, I give here a complete list of his

regular dramatic productions:--

Love's Last Shift--Comedy--Produced at Drury Lane, 1696.

Woman's Wit--Comedy--Drury Lane, 1697.

Xerxes--Tragedy--Lincoln's Inn Fields, 1699.

Richard III.--Tragedy (alteration of Shakespeare's play)--Drury Lane,

1700.

Love Makes a Man--Comedy--Drury Lane, 1701.

The School Boy--Comedy--Drury Lane, 26th October, 1702.

She Would and She Would Not--Comedy--Drury Lane, 26th November, 1702.

The Careless Husband--Comedy--Drury Lane, 7th December, 1704.

Perolla and Izadora--Tragedy--Drury Lane, 3rd December, 1705.

The Comical Lovers--Comedy--Haymarket, 4th February, 1707.

The Double Gallant--Comedy--Haymarket, 1st November, 1707.

The Lady's Last Stake--Comedy--Haymarket, 13th December, 1707.

The Rival Fools--Comedy--Drury Lane, 11th January, 1709.

The Rival Queans--Comical-Tragedy--Haymarket, 29th June, 1710.

Ximena--Tragedy--Drury Lane, 28th November, 1712.

Venus and Adonis--Masque--Drury Lane, 1715.

Bulls and Bears--Farce--Drury Lane, 1st December, 1715.

Myrtillo--Pastoral Interlude--Drury Lane, 1716.

The Nonjuror--Comedy--Drury Lane, 6th December, 1717.

The Refusal--Comedy--Drury Lane, 14th February, 1721.

Cæsar in Egypt--Tragedy--Drury Lane, 9th December, 1724.

The Provoked Husband--Comedy (in conjunction with Vanbrugh)--Drury Lane,

10th January, 1728.

Love in a Riddle--Pastoral--Drury Lane, 7th January, 1729.

Damon and Phillida--Pastoral Farce--Haymarket, 1729.

Papal Tyranny in the Reign of King John--Tragedy (alteration of

Shakespeare's "King John")--Covent Garden, 15th February, 1745.

Of these, his alteration of "Richard III." had practically undisputed

possession of the stage, until the taste and judgment of Mr. Henry

Irving gave us back the original play.[225] But in the provinces, when

stars of the old school play a round of legitimate parts, the

adulterated version still reigns triumphant, and the great effect of the

night is got in Cibber's famous line:--

"Off with his head! So much for Buckingham!"

In "The Hypocrite," a comedy still played at intervals, Cibber's

"Nonjuror" survives. Bickerstaffe, who was the author of the alteration,

retained a very large portion of the original play, his chief change

being the addition of the inimitable Mawworm.

That another of Cibber's plays survives is owing to the taste of an

American manager and to the genius of an American company of comedians.

Mr. Augustin Daly's company includes among its repertory Cibber's

comedy of "She Would and She Would Not," and has shown in London as well

as in New York how admirable a comedy it is. It goes without saying to

those who have seen this company, that much of the success was due to

Miss Ada Rehan, who showed in Hypolita, as she has done in Katharine

("Taming of the Shrew"), that she is mistress of classical comedy as of

modern touch-and-go farce.[226]

[Illustration: SUSANNA MARIA CIBBER AS CORDELIA.]

Cibber was the cause of quite a considerable literature, mostly abusive.

The following list, taken from my "Bibliographical Account of English

Theatrical Literature" (1888), is, I believe, a complete catalogue of

all separate publications by, or relating to, Colley Cibber:--

A clue to the comedy of the Non-Juror. With some hints of consequence

relating to that play. In a letter to N. Rowe, Esq; Poet Laureat to His

Majesty. London (Curll): 1718. 8vo. 6d.

Cibber's "Non-Juror," produced at Drury-Lane, December 6,

1717, was written in favour of the Hanoverian succession. Rowe

wrote the prologue, which was very abusive of Nonjurors. This

tract is not an attack on the play, but a satire on, it is

said, Bishop Hoadly.

A lash for the Laureat: or an address by way of Satyr; most humbly

inscrib'd to the unparallel'd Mr. Rowe, on occasion of a late insolent

Prologue to the Non-Juror. London (J. Morphew): 1718. folio. Title, 1

leaf: Pref. 1 leaf. pp. 8. 6d.

A furious attack on Rowe on account of his Prologue. A tract

of extreme rarity.

A compleat key to the Non-Juror. Explaining the characters in that play,

with observations thereon. By Mr. Joseph Gay. The second edioion

(_sic_). London (Curll): 1718. 8vo. pp. 24 including title and

half-title.

3rd edition: 1718. Joseph Gay is a pseudonym. Pope is said to

be the author of the pamphlet, which is very unfriendly to

Cibber.

The Theatre-Royal turn'd into a mountebank's stage. In some remarks upon

Mr. Cibber's quack-dramatical performance, called the Non-Juror. By a

Non-Juror. London (Morphew): 1718. 8vo. Title 1 leaf. pp. 38. 6d.

The Comedy call'd the Non-Juror. Shewing the particular scenes wherein

that hypocrite is concern'd. With remarks, and a key, explaining the

characters of that excellent play. London (printed for J. L.): 1718.

8vo. pp. 24, including title. 2d.

Some cursory remarks on the play call'd the Non-Juror, written by Mr.

Cibber. In a letter to a friend. London (Chetwood): 1718. 8vo.

Dated from Button's Coffee-House and signed "H. S." Very

laudatory.

A journey to London. Being part of a comedy written by the late Sir John

Vanbrugh, Knt. and printed after his own copy: which (since his

decease) has been made an intire play, by Mr. Cibber, and call'd The

provok'd husband, &c. London (Watts): 1728. 8vo. pp. 51, including

title.

"The Provok'd Husband," by Vanbrugh and Cibber, was produced

at Drury Lane, January 10, 1728; and though Cibber's Nonjuror

enemies tried to condemn it, was very successful. This tract

shows how much of the play was written by Vanbrugh.

Reflections on the principal characters in the Provoked Husband. London:

1728. 8vo.

An apology for the life of Mr. Colley Cibber, comedian, and late

patentee of the Theatre-Royal. With an historical view of the stage

during his own time. Written by himself. London (Printed by John Watts

for the author): 1740. 4to. Port.

Second edition, London, 1740, 8vo., no portrait; third

edition, London, 1750, 8vo., portrait; fourth edition, 1756, 2

vols. 12mo., portrait. A good edition was published, London,

1822, 8vo., with notes by E. Bellchambers and a portrait. The

"Apology" forms one of Hunt's series of autobiographies,

London, 1826. One of the most famous and valuable of

theatrical books.

An apology for the life of Mr. T---- C----, comedian. Being a proper

sequel to the Apology for the life of Mr. Colley Cibber, comedian. With

an historical view of the stage to the present year. Supposed to be

written by himself. In the stile and manner of the Poet Laureat. London

(Mechell): 1740. 8vo. 2s.

The object of this pamphlet, ascribed to Fielding, is chiefly

to ridicule Colley Cibber's "Apology." Herman, 22s.

A brief supplement to Colley Cibber, Esq; his lives of the late famous

Actors and Actresses. _Si tu scis, melior ego._ By Anthony, Vulgò Tony

Aston. Printed for the Author, N.P. (London): N.D. (1747-8). 8vo. pp. 24

including title.

A pamphlet of extreme rarity. Isaac Reed purchased a copy in

1769; and in 1795 he notes on it that, though he has had it

twenty-six years, he has never seen another copy. Reed's copy

was bought by Field for 65s., at whose sale, in 1827, Genest

bought it for 36s.

The tryal of Colley Cibber, comedian, &c. for writing a book intitled An

apology for his life, &c. Being a thorough examination thereof; wherein

he is proved guilty of High Crimes and Misdemeanors against the English

language, and in characterising many persons of distinction.... Together

with an indictment exhibited against Alexander Pope of Twickenham, Esq;

for not exerting his talents at this juncture: and the arraignment of

George Cheyne, Physician at Bath, for the Philosophical, Physical, and

Theological heresies, uttered in his last book on Regimen. London (for

the author): 1740. 8vo. pp. vii. 40. 1s.

With motto--"Lo! He hath written a Book!" The Dedication is

signed "T. Johnson."

The Laureat: or, the right side of Colley Cibber, Esq; containing

explanations, amendments, and observations, on a book intituled, An

apology for the life, and writings of Mr. Colley Cibber. Not written by

himself. With some anecdotes of the Laureat, which he (thro' an excess

of modesty) omitted. To which is added, The history of the life,

manners and writings of Æsopus the tragedian, from a fragment of a Greek

manuscript found in the Library of the Vatican; interspers'd with

observations of the translator. London (Roberts): 1740. 8vo. 1s. 6d.

A furious attack on Cibber. The Life of Æsopus is a burlesque

Life of Cibber. Daniel. 7s. 6d.

The history of the stage. In which is included, the theatrical

characters of the most celebrated actors who have adorn'd the theatre.

Among many others are the following, _viz._ Mr. Betterton, Mr. Montfort,

Mr. Dogget, Mr. Booth, Mr. Wilks, Mr. Nokes. Mrs. Barry, Mrs. Montfort,

Mrs. Gwin, Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Porter, Mrs. Oldfield. Together with,

the theatrical life of Mr. Colly Cibber. London (Miller): 1742. 8vo.

A "boil-down" of Cibber's Apology.

A letter from Mr. Cibber, to Mr. Pope, inquiring into the motives that

might induce him in his satyrical works, to be so frequently fond of Mr.

Cibber's name. London (Lewis): 1742. 8vo. 1s.

Second edition, London, 1744, 8vo.; reprinted, London, 1777,

8vo. The sting of this pamphlet lies in an anecdote told of

Pope at a house of ill-fame, in retaliation for his line:

"And has not Colley still his lord and whore?"

A letter to Mr. C--b--r, on his letter to Mr. P---- London (Roberts):

1742. 8vo. 26 pp. 6d.

Very scarce. Abusive of Pope--laudatory towards Cibber.

Difference between verbal and practical virtue. With a prefatory epistle

from Mr. C--b--r to Mr. P. London (Roberts): 1742. Folio. Title 1

leaf: Epistle 1 leaf: pp. 7.

Very rare. A rhymed attack on Pope.

A blast upon Bays; or, a new lick at the Laureat. Containing, remarks

upon a late tatling performance, entitled, A letter from Mr. Cibber to

Mr. Pope, &c. _And lo there appeared an old woman!_ Vide the Letter

throughout. London (Robbins): 1742. 8vo. pp. 26. 6d.

A bitter attack on Cibber.

Sawney and Colley, a poetical dialogue: occasioned by a late letter from

the Laureat of St. James's, to the Homer of Twickenham. Something in the

manner of Dr. Swift. London (for J. H.): n.d. (1742). Folio. Title 1

leaf: pp. 21. 1s.

Very scarce. A coarse and ferocious attack on Pope in rhyme.

The egotist: or, Colley upon Cibber. Being his own picture retouch'd, to

so _plain_ a likeness, that no one, _now_, would have the face to own

it, but himself. London (Lewis): 1743. 8vo. pp. 78 including title. 1s.

Anonymous, but undoubtedly by Cibber himself.

Another occasional letter from Mr. Cibber to Mr. Pope. Wherein the new

hero's preferment to his throne, in the Dunciad, seems not to be

accepted. And the author of that poem his more rightful claim to it, is

asserted. With an expostulatory address to the Reverend Mr. W. W----n,

author of the new preface, and adviser in the curious improvements of

that satire. By Mr. Colley Cibber. London (Lewis): 1744. 8vo. 1s.

The Rev. W. W----n is Warburton. This tract was reprinted,

Glasgow, n. d., 8vo. The two "Letters" were reprinted, London,

1777, with, I believe, a curious frontispiece representing

the adventure related by Cibber at Pope's expense in the

first "Letter." I am not certain whether the frontispiece was

issued with the London or Glasgow reprint, having seen it in

copies of both. In Bonn's "Lowndes" (1865) is mentioned a

parody on this first "Letter," with the same title, except that

"Mrs. Cibber's name" is substituted for "Mr. Cibber's name."

Lowndes says: "A copy is described in Mr. Thorpe's catalogue,

p. iv, 1832, 'with the frontispiece of Pope surprized with Mrs.

Cibber.'" I gravely doubt the existence of any such work, and

fancy that this frontispiece is the one just mentioned, but

wrongly described. Herman (two Letters, with scarce front.), 40s.

A letter to Colley Cibber, Esq; on his transformation of King John.

London. 1745. 8vo.

Cibber's mangling of "King John," entitled "Papal Tyranny in

the Reign of King John," was produced at Covent Garden,

February 15, 1745.

A new book of the Dunciad: occasion'd by Mr. Warburton's new edition of

the Dunciad complete. By a gentleman of one of the Inns of Court. With

several of Mr. Warburton's own notes, and likewise Notes _Variorum_.

London (J. Payne & J. Bouquet): 1750. 4to. 1s.

Cibber dethroned and Warburton elevated to the throne of

Dulness.

Shakspere's tragedy of Richard III., considered dramatically and

historically; and in comparison with Cibber's alteration as at present

in use on the stage, in a lecture delivered to the members of the

Liverpool Literary, Scientific and Commercial Institution, by Thos.

Stuart, of the Theatre Royal. (Liverpool): n. d. (about 1850). 12mo.

Cibber published in 1747 a work entitled "The Character and

Conduct of Cicero, considered from the history of his life by

Dr. Middleton;" but it is of little value or interest.

A BRIEF

SUPPLEMENT

TO

_Colley Cibber_, Esq;

HIS

LIVES

Of the late FAMOUS

ACTORS and ACTRESSES.

_Si tu scis, melior ego._

By _ANTHONY_, }

Vulgò _TONY_} _ASTON_.

[Illustration]

Printed for the AUTHOR.

* * * * *

Mr. Cibber _is guilty of Omission,

that he hath not given us any Description

of the several Personages'

Beauties, or Faults----Faults (I say) of the

several_ ACTORS, &c. _for_

Nemo sine crimine vivit.

_Or, as the late Duke of_ Buckingham _says of_

Characters, _that, to shew a Man not defective,_

------------------------------------were to draw

A faultless Monster, that the World ne'er saw.

* * * * *

A BRIEF SUPPLEMENT TO COLLEY CIBBER, ESQ; HIS LIVES OF THE LATE FAMOUS

ACTORS AND ACTRESSES.

[Illustration]

Mr. _Betterton_ (although a superlative good Actor) labour'd under ill

Figure, being clumsily made, having a great Head, a short thick Neck,

stoop'd in the Shoulders, and had fat short Arms, which he rarely lifted

higher than his Stomach.--His Left Hand frequently lodg'd in his Breast,

between his Coat and Waist-coat, while, with his Right, he prepar'd his

Speech.--His Actions were few, but just.--He had little Eyes, and a

broad Face, a little Pock-fretten, a corpulent Body, and thick Legs,

with large Feet.--He was better to meet, than to follow; for his Aspect

was serious, venerable, and majestic; in his latter Time a little

paralytic.--His Voice was low and grumbling; yet he could Tune it by an

artful _Climax_, which enforc'd universal Attention, even from the

_Fops_ and _Orange-Girls_.--He was incapable of dancing, even in a

Country-Dance; as was Mrs. _BARRY_: But their good Qualities were more

than equal to their Deficiencies.--While Mrs. _BRACEGIRDLE_ sung very

agreeably in the LOVES of _Mars_ and _Venus_, and danced in a

Country-Dance, as well as Mr. _WILKS_, though not with so much Art and

Foppery, but like a well-bred Gentlewoman.--Mr. _Betterton_ was the most

extensive Actor, from _Alexander_ to Sir _John Falstaff_; but, in _that_

last Character, he wanted the Waggery of _ESTCOURT_, the Drollery of

_HARPER_, the Sallaciousness of _JACK EVANS_.--But, then, _Estcourt_ was

too trifling; _Harper_ had too much of the _Bartholomew-Fair_; and

_Evans_ misplac'd his Humour.--Thus, you see what _Flaws_ are in _bright

Diamonds_:--And I have often wish'd that Mr. _Betterton_ would have

resign'd the Part of HAMLET to some young Actor, (who might have

Personated, though not have Acted, it better) for, when he threw himself

at _Ophelia's_ Feet, he appear'd a little too grave for a young Student,

lately come from the University of _Wirtemberg_; and his _Repartees_

seem'd rather as _Apopthegms_ from a _sage Philosopher_, than the

_sporting Flashes_ of a Young HAMLET; and no one else could have pleas'd

the Town, he was so rooted in their Opinion.--His younger Cotemporary,

(_Betterton_ 63, _Powel_ 40, Years old) _POWEL_, attempted several of

_Betterton's_ Parts, as _Alexander_, _Jaffier_, &c. but lost his Credit;

as, in _Alexander_, he maintain'd not the Dignity of a King, but

_Out-Heroded_ HEROD; and in his poison'd, mad Scene, _out-rav'd all

Probability_; while _Betterton_ kept his Passion under, and shew'd it

most (as Fume smoaks most, when stifled). _Betterton_, from the Time he

was dress'd, to the End of the Play, kept his Mind in the same

Temperament and Adaptness, as the present Character required.--If I was

to write of him all Day, I should still remember fresh Matter in his

Behalf; and, before I part with him, suffer this facetious Story of him,

and a Country Tenant of his.

Mr. _Betterton_ had a small Farm near _Reading_, in the County of _Berks_;

and the Countryman came, in the Time of _Bartholomew-Fair_, to pay his

Rent.--Mr. _Betterton_ took him to the Fair, and going to one _Crawley's_

Puppet-Shew, offer'd _Two Shillings_ for himself and _Roger_, his

Tenant.--_No, no, Sir_, said _Crawley_; _we never take Money of one

another_. This affronted Mr. _Betterton_ who threw down the Money, and

they enter'd.--_Roger_ was hugeously diverted with _Punch_, and bred a

great Noise, saying, that he would drink with him, for he was a merry

Fellow.--Mr. _Betterton_ told him, he was only a Puppet, made up of

_Sticks and Rags_: However, _Roger_ still cried out, that he would go and

drink with _Punch_.--When Master took him behind, where the Puppets hung

up, he swore, he thought _Punch_ had been alive.--_However_, said he,

_though he be but_ Sticks and Rags, _I'll give him Six-pence to drink my

Health_.--At Night, Mr. _Betterton_ went to the _Theatre_, when was

play'd the ORPHAN; Mr. _Betterton_ acting _Castalio_; Mrs. _Barry_,

_Monimia_.----_Well_ (said Master) _how dost like this Play_, Roger? _Why,

I don't knows_, (says _Roger_) _its well enought for_ Sticks and Rags.

To end with this _Phoenix_ of the Stage, I must say of him, as

_Hamlet_ does of his Father: "He was a Man (take him for all in all) I

cannot look upon his Like again."

His Favourite, Mrs. _BARRY_, claims the next in Æstimation. They were

both never better pleas'd, than in Playing together.--Mrs. _Barry_

outshin'd Mrs. _Bracegirdle_ in the Character of ZARA in the _Mourning

Bride_, altho' Mr. _Congreve_ design'd Almeria for that Favour.--And

yet, this fine Creature was not handsome, her Mouth op'ning most on the

Right Side, which she strove to draw t'other Way, and, at Times,

composing her Face, as if sitting to have her Picture drawn.--Mrs.

_Barry_ was middle-siz'd, and had darkish Hair, light Eyes, dark

Eye-brows, and was indifferently plump:--Her Face somewhat preceded her

Action, as the latter did her Words, her Face ever expressing the

Passions; not like the Actresses of late Times, who are afraid of

putting their Faces out of the Form of Non-meaning, lest they should

crack the Cerum, White-Wash, or other Cosmetic, trowel'd on. Mrs.

_Barry_ had a Manner of drawing out her Words, which became her, but not

Mrs. _Braidshaw_, and Mrs. _Porter_, (Successors.)----To hear her speak

the following Speech in the ORPHAN, was a Charm:

_I'm ne'er so well pleas'd, as when I hear thee speak,

And listen to the Music of thy Voice._

And again:

_Who's he that speaks with a Voice so sweet,

As the Shepherd pipes upon the Mountain,

When all his little Flock are gath'ring round him?_

Neither she, nor any of the Actors of those Times, had any Tone in their

speaking, (too much, lately, in Use.)--In _Tragedy_ she was solemn and

august--in _Free Comedy_ alert, easy, and genteel--pleasant in her Face

and Action; filling the Stage with Variety of Gesture.--She was Woman to

Lady _Shelton_, of _Norfolk_, (my Godmother)--when Lord _Rochester_ took

her on the Stage; where for some Time, they could make nothing of

her.--She could neither sing, nor dance, no, not in a Country-Dance.

* * * * *

Mrs. _BRACEGIRDLE_, that _Diana_ of the Stage, hath many Places

contending for her Birth--The most received Opinion is, that she was the

Daughter of a Coachman, Coachmaker, or Letter-out of Coaches, in the

Town of _Northampton_.--But I am inclinable to my Father's Opinion, (who

had a great Value for her reported Virtue) that she was a distant

Relation, and came out of _Staffordshire_, from about _Walsal_ or

_Wolverhampton_.--She had many Assailants on her Virtue, as Lord

_Lovelace_, Mr. _Congreve_, the last of which had her Company most; but

she ever resisted his vicious Attacks, and, yet, was always uneasy at

his leaving her; on which Observation he made the following Song:

PIOUS Celinda _goes to Pray'rs,

Whene'er I ask the Favour;

Yet, the tender Fool's in Tears,

When she believes I'll leave her.

Wou'd I were free from this Restraint,

Or else had Power to win her!

Wou'd she cou'd make of me a Saint,

Or I of her a Sinner!_

And, as Mr. _Durfey_ alludes to it in his Puppet Song--in _Don Quixot_,

_Since that our Fate intends

Our Amity shall be no dearer,

Still let us kiss and be Friends,

And sigh we shall never come nearer._

She was very shy of Lord _Lovelace's_ Company, as being an engaging Man,

who drest well: And as, every Day, his Servant came to her, to ask her

how she did, she always return'd her Answer in the most obeisant Words

and Behaviour, _That she was indifferent well, she humbly thank'd his

Lordship_.--She was of a lovely Height, with dark-brown Hair and

Eye-brows, black sparkling Eyes, and a fresh blushy Complexion; and,

whenever she exerted herself, had an involuntary Flushing in her Breast,

Neck and Face, having continually a chearful Aspect, and a fine Set of

even white Teeth; never making an _Exit_, but that she left the Audience

in an Imitation of her pleasant Countenance. Genteel Comedy was her

chief Essay, and that too when in Men's Cloaths, in which she far

surmounted all the Actresses of that and this Age.--Yet she had a Defect

scarce perceptible, _viz._ her Right Shoulder a little protended, which,

when in Men's Cloaths, was cover'd by a long or Campaign Peruke.--She

was finely shap'd, and had very handsome Legs and Feet; and her Gait, or

Walk, was free, manlike, and modest, when in Breeches.--Her Virtue had

its Reward, both in Applause and _Specie_; for it happen'd, that as the

Dukes of _Dorset_ and _Devonshire_, Lord _Hallifax_, and other Nobles,

over a Bottle, were all extolling Mrs. _Bracegirdle's_ virtuous

Behaviour, Come, says Lord _Hallifax_--_You all commend her Virtue, &c.

but why do we not present this incomparable Woman with something worthy

her Acceptance?_ His Lordship deposited 200 Guineas, which the rest made

up 800, and sent to her, with Encomiums on her Virtue.--She was, when on

the _Stage_, diurnally Charitable, going often into _Clare-Market_, and

giving Money to the poor unemploy'd Basket-women, insomuch that she

could not pass that Neighbourhood without the thankful Acclamations of

People of all Degrees; so that, if any Person had affronted her, they

would have been in Danger of being kill'd directly; and yet this good

Woman was an Actress.--She has been off the Stage these 26 Years or

more, but was alive _July 20, 1747_; for I saw her in the _Strand,

London_, then--with the Remains of charming _Bracegirdle_.

* * * * *