Having taken upon me in the prologue to this play, to give the auditors
some short account of that part of it which Sir _John Vanbrugh_ left
unfinished, and not thinking it adviseable in that place, to limit
their judgment by so high a commendation as I thought it deserved; I
have therefore, for the satisfaction of the curious, printed the whole
of what he wrote, separately, under the single title he gave it of _A
Journey to London_, without presuming to alter a line.
Yet when I own, that in my last conversation with him, (which chiefly
turned upon what he had done towards a comedy) he excused his not
shewing it me, 'till he had reviewd it, confessing the scenes were
yet undigested, too long, and irregular, particularly in the lower
characters, I have but one excuse for publishing what he never designed
should come into the world, as it then was, viz. I had no other way of
taking those many faults to myself, which may be justly found in my
presuming to finish it.
However, a judicious reader will find in his original papers, that
the characters are strongly drawn, new, spirited, and natural, taken
from sensible observations on high and lower life, and from a just
indignation at the follies in fashion. All I could gather from him of
what he intended in the _catastrophe_, was, that the conduct of his
imaginary fine lady had so provoked him, that he designed actually
to have made her husband turn her out of his doors. But when his
performance came, after his decease, to my hands, I thought such
violent measures, however just they might be in real life, were too
severe for comedy, and would want the proper surprise, which is due
to the end of a play. Therefore with much ado (and 'twas as much as I
could do with probability) I preserved the lady's chastity, that the
sense of her errors might make a reconciliation not impracticable; and
I hope the mitigation of her sentence has been since justified by its
success.
My inclination to preserve as much as possible of Sir _John_, I soon
saw had drawn the whole into an unusual length; the reader will
therefore find here a scene or two of the lower humour that were left
out, after the first day's presentation.
The favour the town has shewn to the higher characters in this play,
is a proof, that their taste is not wholly vitiated, by the barbarous
entertainments that have been so expensively set off to corrupt it:
but, while the repetition of the best old plays is apt to give satiety,
and good new ones are so scarce a commodity, we must not wonder, that
the poor actors are sometimes forced to trade in trash for a livelihood.
I cannot yet take leave of the reader, without endeavouring to do
justice to those principal actors, who have so evidently contributed
to the support of this comedy: And I wish I could separate the praises
due to them from the secret vanity of an author: For all I can say will
still insinuate, that they could not have so highly excelled, unless
the skill of the writer had given them proper occasion. However, as I
had rather appear vain, than unthankful, I will venture to say of Mr.
_Wilks_, that in the last act, I never saw any passion take so natural
a possession of an actor, or any actor take so tender a possession of
his auditors----Mr. _Mills_ too, is confess'd by every body, to have
surprised them, by so far excelling himself----But there is no doing
right to Mrs. _Oldfield_, without putting people in mind of what
others, of great merit, have wanted to come near her----'Tis not enough
to say, she _Here Out-did_ her usual _Excellence_. I might therefore
justly leave her to the constant admiration of those spectators, who
have the pleasure of living while she is an actress. But as this is not
the only time she has been the life of what I have given the public,
so perhaps my saying a little more of so memorable an actress, may
give this play a chance to be read, when the people of this age shall
be ancestors----May it therefore give emulation to our successors of
the stage, to know, That to the ending of the year 1727, a cotemporary
comedian relates, that Mrs. _Oldfield_ was, then, in her highest
excellence of action, happy in all the rearly-found requisites, that
meet in one person to complete them for the stage----She was in stature
just rising to that height, where the _graceful_ can only begin to shew
itself; of a lively aspect and a command in her mein, that like the
principal figure in the finest paintings, first seizes, and longest
delights the eye of the spectators. Her voice was sweet, strong,
piercing, and melodious: her pronunciation voluble, distinct, and
musical; and her emphasis always placed where the spirit of the sense,
in her periods, only demanded it. If she delighted more in the Higher
Comic, than in the Tragic strain, 'twas because the last is too often
written in a lofty disregard of nature. But in characters of modern
practised life, she found occasions to add the particular air and
manner which distinguished the different humours she presented. Whereas
in tragedy, the manner of speaking varies, as little as the blank verse
it is written in----She had one peculiar happiness from nature, she
looked and maintained the _agreeable_, at a time when other fine women
only raise admirers by their understanding----The spectator was always
as much informed by her eyes as her elocution; for the look is the
only proof that an actor rightly conceives what he utters, there being
scare an instance, where the eyes do their part, that the elocution is
known to be faulty. The qualities she had _acquired_ were the _genteel_
and _elegant_. The one in her air, and the other in her dress, never
had her equal on the stage; and the ornaments she herself provided,
(particularly in this play) seemed in all respects the _paraphernalia_
of a woman of quality. And of that sort were the characters she chiefly
excelled in; but her natural good sense and lively turn of conversation
made her way so easy to ladies of the highest rank, that it is a less
wonder, if on the stage she sometimes _was_, what might have become the
finest woman in real life to have supported.
_Theatre-Royal_.
_Jan. 27_,
172⅞