this affair; for after several meetings and mature considerations
had, at the Goat and Harp alehouse, they unanimously resolved to
support this essential privilege, at the hazard of their limbs and
liveries; and likewise ordered a message to their brethren at the
Ship victualling-house in the Old Palace-yard, Westminster, requiring
the sense of that venerable body of _brass-button Senators_, at this
_knotty_ and critical conjuncture. Were these pertinacious _gentlemen_
but to look into history, they, perhaps, may find by what means their
_predecessors_ forfeited the privilege of wearing swords: for Rapin and
others write, "That in the fourth year of Henry VI. a Parliament was
held at Leicester, which was called the _Parliament of batts_, because,
their footmen not being allowed _swords_, they followed their masters
to the House with _batts_ and _cudgells_ in their hands. And it must be
allowed that they have made a pretty good use of them ever since."
Numbers of anonymous letters were thrown down the areas of people of
fashion after this affair, denouncing vengeance against those who
assisted in depriving them of their liberty and property, as they were
pleased to term their riots and the gallery of Drury-lane Theatre. Two
footmen were committed without bail or mainprize to answer for their
conduct; and, while in Newgate, received supplies of every kind through
the _generous subscriptions_ of their sympathising brethren. At the
same time 50 men mounted guard at the Theatre every night under the
direction of Colonel De Veil.
Mary-le-bon Gardens were opened previous to 1737; and till that year
were entered _gratis_ by all ranks of people; but the company resorting
to them becoming more respectable, Mr. Gough, the keeper, determined to
demand a shilling as entrance-money, for which the party paying was to
receive an equivalent in viands.
Mr. Chetwynd and Mr. Odell, Inspectors of Plays under the Lord
Chamberlain, were granted seats at each house _gratis_ in 1738.
The ensuing proposals were published by the master of Vauxhall-gardens
in March 1738:
"The entertainment will be opened the latter end of April or beginning
of May (as the weather permits), and continue three months or
longer, with the usual illuminations and band of musick, and several
considerable additions and improvements to the organ.
"A thousand tickets only will be delivered out, at 24 shillings each;
the silver of every ticket to be worth 3_s._ 6_d._ and to admit two
persons every evening (Sundays excepted) during the season.
"Every person coming without a ticket to pay 1_s._ each time for
admittance.
"No servants in livery to walk in the gardens.
"All subscribers are desired not to permit their tickets to get into
the hands of persons of evil repute, there being an absolute necessity
to exclude all such.
"All possible endeavours will be used that the particulars provided at
the entertainment may be the best in their several kinds; and, that the
Company may judge of the reasonableness of them, printed tables of the
prices of each will be fixed up in different parts of the gardens.
"Receipts will be delivering from this day till Thursday the 13th of
April inclusive, and no longer, by Mr. Thomas Cox, bookseller, under
the Royal Exchange; Mr. John Stagg, bookseller, in Westminster-hall;
and at the Spring-gardens above-mentioned; at all which places tickets
will be ready for delivery on Tuesday the 18th of April. N. B. As the
striking the tickets and engraving the names must necessarily employ a
considerable time, the subscribers are desired to take out receipts as
soon as may suit their conveniency, in order that the tickets may be
delivered at the time mentioned."
The Watermen's company gave notice, at the same time, that two of their
beadles would attend at Vauxhall-stairs from five o'clock till eleven,
to prevent impositions by the members of their Society.
Mrs. Arne sung at a Concert established in the succeeding winter at
the Great Room, Panton-street, the band of which was selected from
that of the Opera-house; but the singularity most attractive consisted
of an organ combined with a harpsichord played by clock-work, which
exhibited the movements of an orrery and air pump, besides solving
astronomical and geographical problems on two globes, and shewing the
moon's age with the Copernican system in motion; in the canopy, Apollo,
and the Muses, &c. &c.
A company of French Comedians hired the Little Theatre in the
Haymarket for the season of 1738, and attempted to play "_L'Embarras
des Richesses_;" but the audience, evidently assembled to drive the
performers from London, commenced a violent riot, in which they
proceeded till Mr. Hewit, a fencing-master, had one of his cheeks cut
almost off by a sword, and the actors had fled through the back-windows
into Suffolk-street; every thing that could be broken within the house
was completely demolished, and a wag, alluding to the title of the
play, wrote these lines:
"Zealous for Britain, and to teach it sense,
The Gallic players came over----_not for pence_;
And as first trials oft give projects health,
Wisely they open'd with "The Plague of Wealth."
The grateful Britons, conscious what they ow'd
For unsought favours with such grace bestow'd;
To prove they lik'd the donor's wholesome lore,
Return'd them _cashless_ to their native shore."
The assertion in the latter line however is not true, as a handsome
subscription was made to enable the disappointed Comedians to return in
comfort to France, which amounted to 600_l._
Handel hired the Opera-house in 1738, for the performance of Oratorios
twice a week.
One of the most extraordinary events upon record in the history of the
stage occurred in 1749, when the Duke of Montague, in concert with some
other wits, determined to make trial of the credulity of the publick,
in order to ascertain how far it would extend: in the accomplishment
of this purpose they inserted several most absurd and ridiculous
advertisements in the newspapers, one of which announced that on
Monday, the 16th of January, a man would enter a common wine-bottle
on the stage, and sing in it. Contrary to all _probable_ calculation,
the Little Theatre in the Haymarket received an overflowing audience,
who waited without musick and with exemplary patience till eight
o'clock. At that hour the usual testimonies of discontent appeared, to
the terror of the proprietors of the house. And the contrivers of the
scheme being now totally at a loss how to dismiss their dupes, a person
was at length deputed to offer the return of the admission-money. At
the same moment another unfortunately added, that the Conjuror would
enter a pint bottle for _double_ prices. The riot then became general,
and some injury occurred to the ladies' dresses and the gentlemen's
wigs in effecting their escape from the Theatre. A party who were
determined on mischief remained, and proceeded to demolish the boxes,
benches, scenes, &c. &c. which they carried into the street, and burnt
before the Guards arrived to prevent it.
Though the following incident, and some others of a similar nature,
are not intrinsically worth notice; yet, as they serve to fill the
general outline I have undertaken to sketch of the manners of the last
century, they are necessarily introduced. During the season of 1757 the
audience of Covent-garden Theatre missed their favourite actor Barry;
and finding that the month of December had arrived without producing
him, they loudly demanded his appearance, when Mr. Smith, stepping
forward, assured them, that to his knowledge Mr. Rich was then engaged
in a treaty with Mr. Barry. This information satisfied the majority;
but, several riotous persons continuing their vociferation, partial
battles took place in the pit, and even blood was shed before the civil
and military powers conveyed the delinquents to the office of Justice
Fielding.
An article inserted in the London Chronicle in November 1758 expresses
the writer's surprize that the Theatres and Opera-house were not
furnished with ventilators, as he was convinced many severe complaints
had been and were then caused by the profuse perspirations of
individuals suddenly encountering the chill air of the streets.
_Spouting_ Clubs, or, in other words, assemblies of persons ardent
admirers of the antient art of Acting, were known before the middle
of the century, and have flourished, under the influence of some
unavoidable mutations, to the present moment. The violent action
of the members, their improper emphasis, and their grimaces, have
frequently been successfully ridiculed; but the evil still exists in
private Theatres, where it is asserted some vices are acquired which
are not very creditable to the possessors; and I shall only add that
in my opinion youth is generally sufficiently presuming without having
recourse to this improper mode of _education_. Influenced by this
conviction, I am always grieved to hear of private plays at colleges
and schools, and particularly at _female_ boarding-schools. It is from
the latter custom, that we have witnessed so much folly in the recent
exhibition of heroes and legislators by _infant girls_ and _boys_,
whose feeble and shrill voices pronounce denunciations and elevated
sentiments which are often injured by the imperfect organs even of our
best tragic adults. To illustrate this assertion more forcibly, let
posterity be informed, that _we enlightened inhabitants_ of London
have actually listened to the ensuing speech with rapture uttered by
children under fifteen years of age, and little more than four feet in
height:
"_A thousand hearts are great within my bosom._
Advance our standards, set upon our foes,
Our antient word of courage, fair _St. George_,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons:
Upon them, Victory sits on our helms[204:A]."
Let it also be recorded, that the season of 1806 produced a _juvenile
Theatre_, which was well attended. But let us return to the
Spouting-clubs, lest we pass them without _due_ notice: that indeed
they received in 1759, when these excellent lines appeared in the
London Chronicle, to which I can add nothing new.
"THE SPOUTING CLUB.
_A Poetical Dish newly cooked up_
By RIGDUM FUNNIDOS, Esq.
Professor of Bombast and Blank Verse in the
University of Queerumania.
_Conamur tenues grandia._
"NOW o'er the world, in sable cincture clad,
Night rolls her awful clouds. Her misty veil
Hangs black'ning 'fore the eye, whose visual orb
In vain attempts to penetrate the gloom
Condens'd; save where the cotton 'mers'd in oil
Within some glassy concave yields its flame
Twinkling; and save where in the servile hand
Behind a rattling coach, the tædal stick
Held waving glimmers on the face of things.
Free from the business of the bustling day,
This interval indulging, to the Club
Of Spouters I repair; where mortal forms,
Borne high upon the feathers of conceit,
Rise into air; while puffing blasts of wind,
Bursting from loosely-flying Fancy's cave,
Blow them to regions where Theatra dwells.
Here, o'er the summit of a chair I loll;
My circumspective eyes explore the room.
A groupe of staring objects strike my sight;
Features distinct and various. While upon
The table's oval, the resplendent cup
Its pure contents and frothy surface boasts
Invigorant. Virginia's plant matur'd
Lies in the centre. With a clay-form'd tube
Each member graces his extended hand.
Above the rest, with looks erect and sage,
Deputed sits the regent of the night,
In elbow-chair pre-eminent. His hand
The silence-knocking hammer wields. Before
His optic balls are plac'd two shining plates,
Betwixt whose pewter confines, interspers'd
With glittering pieces of argental coin,
Lie wide-spread half-pence, jingling at the touch.
There great he sits, with glee magnificent,
The strong potation quaffing. On the slate
The num'rous pots he marks, with aspect keen.
So, with superior power invested, sits
A constable elate, in dome rotund,
Imbibing porter solid. With an air
Self-confident he scrawls the captive's name.
Now moves around, with circulation quick,
The tankard less'ning. Strait again receives
Its due completion. Like the changing tide
It ebbs and flows alternate. Curling spires
Ascending paint the plaster'd canopy
Fuliginous: the wafture dims the sight,
And thro' the smoaky mist the candles shine
Azure. But lo! a Roscian stands erect
Stentorophontes. Him long time I mark'd,
Saw meditation hover o'er his brow,
And all his faculties absorb'd in thought.
He bends his head addressive to the board,
And thus harangues--"Why sit we here thus mute,
"And frustrate all the purpose of our meeting?
"Already has the hoarse-lung'd watchman bawl'd
"Past nine o'clock." So saying, forth he stalks,
With step theatric. Mark his buskin tread,
And eye-balls rolling. Rang'd along the floor
The candles blaze. And now the signal giv'n,
All bend their eyes on him--No longer now
Pauses the youth, but storms in wild Macbeth.
Lo! now apparent on his horrid front
Sits grim distortion. Every feature's lost,
Screw'd horrible, unhumaniz'd--On stage
Of quack itinerant thus have I seen
An Andrew wring the muscles of his face,
Deforming nature, and extort the grin
And wonder of the many-headed crowd.
He spoke; when strait a loud applauding noise
Ensues: the clap of hands and thump of feet
Commingling. Knuckles on the table's verge
With fury beating, and the sound of sticks
Junctive confirm the rattle of applause.
Tremble the pewter vases, and within
The fluid fluctuates. The surging pipes
Roll from their beds of tin. The wooden plain
Is strew'd on all sides with the clatt'ring ruin.
Lo! now another of theatric mould
"Rises in clouded majesty," yclep'd
Ranter. Forth issue from his steaming mouth
These long imprisoned Alps of tow'ring smoke,
"Riding upon the bosom of the air."
Him had his inauspicious cruel stars
Destin'd to oil, to dress the flowing curl,
And with nice hand to weave the yielding hair.
But each revolving, rising, setting sun
Beheld this hero looking on his trade
With eyes indignant. His exalted soul
Launch'd 'yond the limits of his narrow sphere.
Fraught with extended notions of the stage,
His ample-daring mind the drama's laws
Sole entertain'd--The tonsor now assumes
The part of Richard, and with awkward strut
Affects majestic air.--So at the wake
Roger begins the dance, but, wanting skill,
Betrays himself unequal to the task.
Thy graceful periods, so oft admir'd,
Divine inspir'd Shakspeare! on his tongue
Imperfect die away. His labour'd speech
Sounds gutt'ral, like the hoarsely croaking race
Upon the banks of some pellucid stream.
Scarce had he finish'd, when salutes his ears
The mingled noise upon the dusty floor
Reverberated. Down the shaver sits
Well-pleas'd. And next upstarts Hibernia's son,
Like some enthusiast on a tripod rais'd
With apish gesture, and with strange grimace,
To rant unto the multitude. The cork
Intruded swift into the candle's blaze
Is nigrified, and marks th'aspiring youth
With whiskers bold. Ferocity now darts
From either eye her broad unmeaning stare;
In Bajazet he raves, and low'ring bids
Defiance. 'Yond just Nature's ample pow'r
He rants elaborate. His roaring voice
Calls echo forth respondent. On the mart
Of fishy Billingsgate thus have I heard
A harsh lung-cracking noise, nor yet to this
Dissimilar. He ended; but the tribe
Withhold the grasp'd-at banners of applause.
Then down he sits, with woeful aspect dull.
But strait emerging from a sea of thought,
He swallows hasty the salubrious stream,
And re-inthrones his abdicated soul.
Bronzoides next his meteor lays down
Igniferous. Him had his parents sent
To London (seat of business)--there the laws
Of England's state to learn and exercise.
For him a well-experienced Don was found,
Whose quick-turn'd eyes foresaw each quibble quaint,
And quirk evasive. As an osier light,
That bending yields to ev'ry blast of wind,
His heart to fraud was flexible,--his heart,
Where dark Deceit, in honest guise array'd,
Had sown its seeds, and poison'd ev'ry grain
Which, warm'd by potent Truth's congenial ray,
With Virtue's plenteous harvest might have teem'd.
But fruitless was the youth's parental aim,
Tho' sedulous. For scarce two years had roll'd
Since fair Augusta first had bless'd his eyes,
When great Bronzoides first soliloquiz'd:
'Was it for this, that o'er the classic deep
I sail'd, and landed on poetic shores?
Have I for this flew round the Aonian mount
With plumes immortal, and so often play'd
With spotless Muses, in Pierian meads?
Am I, ye Gods, eternally to scribe
Inglorious? No--Some power uplifts my soul,
Buoyant, above the common class of earth's
Dull reptiles. Hence, ye wrong-adjudg'd Reports;
Ye dry collections, hence. I leave ye all
To those grave, solid-looking fools, whose ears
Tautology best charms. Oh! Shakspeare, come
With all thy pupils. Fire my glowing breast,
Expand my genius, and enlarge my soul.'
Kindled that instant at the raptur'd thought,
His intellects, high tow'ring flew to realms
Dramatic. There the storehouse of his brain
He fill'd redundant. Here he tries his skill
Theatric, ere upon the graceful stage
With steps adventurous he dares to tread.
So children dabble in the shallow stream
Playful, till fear forsakes their little souls;
Then bold they rush into the middle Thames.
'List, list, O list'--Oh! how his tuneful voice
Rises and falls, as Oysterella's soft
And strong, when ev'ry street and curving lane
Adjacent echo the testaceous cry.
He spouted--and receiv'd his share of praise.
Inflated with the swellings of conceit,
And newly flush'd with large-aspiring hopes
Of excellence, uprises Leatheronzo
Fam'd. In repairing worn-out calcuments
None was his equal. No one better knew
The pointed awl to handle. Yet his breast
With rage dramatic glow'd. In mad-struck Lear
The scene he opens: but for want of crown
Paus'd his mock-majesty. Around the place
Long time his eyes terrific roll'd. At length
'In a black corner of the room he spied'
An empty urinal--Fir'd at the sight,
He snatch'd the vacuum, and to his head
Adapted it well pleas'd. Now, now he raves
With brazen lungs, until a sudden jerk
His action terminates. Upon the floor
Down drops the jordan. As it rolls along
It rings applause unto his list'ning ear.
Lo! now springs forward with elastic step,
A son of Comedy, Soccado call'd.
The tunic dazzling with its golden pride,
The button-hole gay-wrought with wondrous art,
The mode-cut collar, and well-fancied sleeve,
Had oft proclaim'd his taste. Yet not to this
Was his great soul confin'd. Theatra now,
Dramatic goddess, whispers in his ear,
And bids him shine away in Foppington.
Where's now that stately flatness of the gait?
That easy stiffness where? so often seen
In thee, O Cibber! and so oft admir'd,
Alas! how faintly, rudely copied here!
With joints inflexible, and neck oblique,
An object stiff'ning to the sight he stands
In attitude unmeaning, and deprives
Each injur'd word of its emphatic due.
He finish'd, when the wonted noise begins,
Loud as his all-attentive ears can wish;
Nor less than that which shakes the bending stairs
To the Theatric semicircled seats,
Hight upper gallery, ductive, when some
Grand-habited scene-boasting pantomime,
From 'hind their compters, and from cleaning knives,
And from tenebrious porter-breathing cells,
Where all day long in glee they tippling sat,
Calls forth the terrene quick-ascending gods.
Prologues and epilogues increase the sport,
To periodize the humours of the night
Now far advanced; goes round the jovial song,
The laugh-exciting catch, or wanton tale
Re-iterated. Bacchus, King of Joys,
Twines not his vine-branch here. "Trueman's entire"
Reigns arbitrary. With its vapours bland
Their giddy-rolling heads anointed turn
Upon an axis brittle. Total noise
Its anarchy extends. But oh! how soon
Terrestrial mirth evaporates. Amidst
Their jocund glee, and lovely-floating hours,
Enter the Constables. Ten watchmen brave
Their presence dignify. Amazement chill
Sits on each spouting face. So looks the wretch
Involv'd in debt, when first he spies the front--
The front most hated of a Catch-pole grim.
Not e'en Macbeth stands more appall'd with fear,
When murder'd Banquo's horrid-glaring ghost
Disturbs the regal banquet. Such, so great
Their fear unmanly, that their passive souls
To their hard fate submit. Restless all,
All walk desponding to the round-house dire;
And one sad exit terminates the scene.
All hail to thee! thou young dramatic bard!
Ingenious M-rp-y, hail! Before thy shrine
I bend the knee. This epidemic rage
Well hast thou ridicul'd. Oh! may thy scenes
On Fame's high-pending annals be enroll'd:
And as thy Muse shall henceforth deign to grace
Th'enlighten'd scene, and with a steady hand
To hold up Nature's mirrour, may the tribe
Of snarling Critics, with invidious eyes,
View the bright image, and confess it true."
The reader will of course forgive the chasms in dates which he
frequently meets with, by recollecting that most of the amusements of
the people of London occur in succession annually: the Theatres, the
Opera, concerts, exhibitions, Ranelagh, and Vauxhall, have always had
their regular stated periods of opening; and when nothing remarkable
took place at either, it is by no means necessary they should be
mentioned under every year. The Vauxhall season of 1759 produced
some unpleasant animadversions; and the proprietors were publicly
called upon to prevent the infamous conduct of loose women and their
male companions, whose yells have been described as issuing from the
dark walks in sounds full as terrific as "the imagined horror of
Cavalcanti's bloodhounds:" indeed the latter were charged with driving
ladies from their friends into those recesses where dangerous terrors
were wantonly inflicted.
HANDEL'S DECEASE
Occurred on the 6th of April, 1759. As this eminent composer may
justly be said to have formed a new æra of musick in England, and to
have established the Opera, and the fame of his Oratorios perhaps
for centuries to come; a sketch of his life from his arrival in this
Island cannot be altogether unacceptable, particularly as it must
contain a general history of those amusements with which he became
connected. Handel was born at Hall in Upper Saxony February 24, 1684,
but did not visit England till he had attained his 26th year, and when
perfect master of his profession. The stranger, though only upon leave
of absence from the Court of Hanover, where he received a pension of
1500 crowns _per annum_, and held the place of Master of the Elector's
chapel, was presented to Queen Anne, and favourably received; thus
honoured, Handel soon enjoyed the patronage of her courtiers, and
immediately commenced his career by correcting the errors of the
_Italian_ Opera, if that could be so called which had been translated
into the _English_ language. As this celebrated composer found it, the
most pathetic parts of the Italian musick frequently fell upon words
expressive of anger, and _vice versâ_; he therefore composed Rossi's
Rinaldo, written after an outline by Aaron Hill, who favoured the
publick with an English version of it.
When Handel had remained here one year, the full term of his leave of
absence, he returned to Hanover, but promised to re-visit the Queen
at the first convenient opportunity: that occurred in 1712, and he
composed his _Te Deum_ and _Jubilate_ after the signing of the peace
of Utrecht. Queen Anne, highly gratified with his exertions, granted
him a pension of 200_l._ for life, and added her commands to the
solicitations of the Nobility, that he should assume the management of
the Opera-house. This he complied with, and violated in consequence an
engagement he was under to return to the Elector's Court. When that
Prince ascended the British throne, Handel, conscious of his offence,
dared not venture into his presence; and his friends even thought
stratagem preferable to intercession in restoring him to favour. To
accomplish this, Baron Kilmanseck and several of the English nobility
engaged the King in a party of pleasure upon the Thames: at that hour
of relaxation the King was surprized with those grand movements yet
known as Handel's Water-piece, which were composed expressly for the
occasion, and performed under his direction in a boat attendant on
the Monarch. The scheme was successful beyond expectation; and from
that hour the fortunate musician received both honours and rewards
from George I. The Earl of Burlington and the Duke of Chandos were
his warmest patrons and admirers: the latter indeed retained him at
Canons as master of his splendid choral establishment for the offices
of religion; and as Buononcini and Attilio were then composers for the
Opera, he did not frequently interfere with their province.