THE LICENSER OF PLAYHOUSES.
The Act of 1737 for licensing plays, playhouses, and players, and
legalising the power the Lord Chamberlain had long been accustomed to
exercise, although readily passed by both Houses of Parliament, gave
great offence to the public. The Abbé Le Blanc, who was visiting
England at this period, describes the new law as provoking a
"universal murmur in the nation." It was openly complained of in the
newspapers; at the coffee-houses it was denounced as unjust and
"contrary to the liberties of the people of England." Fear prevailed
that the freedom of the press would next be invaded. In the House of
Lords Chesterfield had stigmatised the measure both as an encroachment
on liberty and an attack on property. "Wit, my lords," he said, "is a
sort of property. It is the property of those that have it, and too
often the only property they have to depend on. It is, indeed; but a
precarious dependence. Thank God, we, my lords, have a dependence of
another kind. We have a much less precarious support, and, therefore,
cannot feel the inconveniences of the bill now before us; but it is
our duty to encourage and protect wit, whosoever's property it may be....
I must own I cannot easily agree to the laying of a tax upon wit;
but by this bill it is to be heavily taxed--it is to be excised; for
if this bill passes, it cannot be retailed in a proper way without a
permit; and the Lord Chamberlain is to have the honour of being chief
gauger, supervisor, commissioner, judge and jury." At this time,
however, it is to be noted that parliamentary reporting was forbidden
by both Houses. The general public, therefore, knew little of Lord
Chesterfield's eloquent defence of the liberty of the stage.
The Act was passed in June, when the patent theatres, according to
custom, were closed for the summer. Some two months after their
reopening in the autumn all dramatic representations were suspended
for six weeks, in consequence of the death of Queen Caroline. In
January was presented at Covent Garden "A Nest of Plays," as the
author, one Hildebrand Jacob, described his production: a combination
of three short plays, each consisting of one act only, entitled
respectively, "The Prodigal Reformed," "Happy Constancy," and "The
Trial of Conjugal Love." The performance met with a very unfavourable
reception. The author attributed the ill success of his work to its
being the first play licensed by the authority of the Lord Chamberlain
under the new bill, many spectators having predetermined to silence,
under any circumstances, "the first fruits of that Act of Parliament."
And this seems, indeed, to have been the case. The Abbé Le Blanc, who
was present on the occasion, writes: "The best play in the world would
not have succeeded that night. There was a disposition to damn
whatever might appear. The farce in question was damned, indeed,
without the least compassion. Nor was that all, for the actors were
driven off the stage, and happy was it for the author that he did not
fall into the hands of this furious assembly." And the Abbé proceeds
to explain that the originators of this disturbance were not
"schoolboys, apprentices, clerks, or mechanics," but lawyers, "a body
of gentlemen perhaps less honoured, but certainly more feared here
than they are in France," who, "from living in colleges (Inns of
Court), and from conversing always with one another, mutually preserve
a spirit of independency through the body, and with great ease form
cabals.... At Paris the cabals of the pit are only among young
fellows, whose years may excuse their folly, or persons of the meanest
education and stamp; here they are the fruit of deliberation in a very
grave body of people, who are not less formidable to the minister in
place than to the theatrical writers." But the Abbé relates that on a
subsequent occasion, when another new play having been announced, he
had looked for further disturbance, the judicious dramatist of the
night succeeded in calming the pit by administering in his prologue a
double dose of incense to their vanity. "Half-an-hour before the play
was to begin the spectators gave notice of their dispositions by
frightful hisses and outcries, equal, perhaps, to what were ever heard
at a Roman amphitheatre." The author, however, having in part tamed
this wild audience by his flattery, secured ultimately its absolute
favour by humouring its prejudices after the grossest fashion. He
brought upon the stage a figure "with black eyebrows, a ribbon of an
ell long under his chin, a bag-peruke immoderately powdered, and his
nose all bedaubed with snuff. What Englishman could not know a
Frenchman by this ridiculous figure?" The Frenchman was presently
shown to be, for all the lace down every seam of his coat, nothing but
a cook, and then followed severe satire and criticism upon the manners
and customs of France. "The excellence and virtues of English beef
were extolled, and the author maintained that it was owing to the
qualities of its juice that the English were so courageous and had
such a solidity of understanding, which raised them above all the
nations in Europe; he preferred the noble old English pudding beyond
all the finest ragouts that ever were invented by the greatest
geniuses that France ever produced." These "ingenious strokes" were
loudly applauded by the audience, it seems, who, in their delight at
the abuse lavished upon the French, forgot that they came to condemn
the play and to uphold the ancient liberties of the stage. From that
time forward, the Abbé states, "the law was executed without the least
trouble; all the plays since have been quietly heard, and either
succeeded or not according to their merits."
When Garrick visited Paris he declined to be introduced to the Abbé Le
Blanc, "on account of the irreverence with which he had treated
Shakespeare." There can, indeed, be no doubt that the Abbé, although
he wrote amusing letters, was a very prejudiced person, and his
evidence and opinions touching the English stage must be received with
caution. So far as can be ascertained, especially by study of the
"History of the Stage" (compiled by that industrious clergyman, Mr.
Genest, from the playbills in the British Museum), but few new plays
were produced in the course of the season immediately following the
passing of the Licensing Act; certainly no new play can be found
answering the description furnished by the Abbé with due regard to the
period he has fixed for its production. Possibly he referred to the
"Beaux' Stratagem," in which appear a French officer and an
Irish-French priest, and which was certainly represented some few
nights after the condemnation of Mr. Jacob's "Nest of Plays."
Farquhar's comedy was then thirty years old, however. Nor has the Abbé
done full justice to the public opposition offered to the Licensing
Act. At the Haymarket Theatre a serious riot occurred in October,
1738, fifteen months after the passing of the measure. Closed against
the English actors the theatre was opened by a French company, armed
with a license from the Lord Chamberlain. A comedy, called "L'Embarras
de Richesses," was announced for representation "by authority." The
house was crowded immediately after the opening of the doors. But the
audience soon gave evidence of their sentiments by singing in chorus
"The Roast Beef of Old England." Then followed loud huzzas and general
tumult. Deveil, one of the Justices of the Peace for Westminster, who
was present, declared the proceedings to be riotous, and announced his
intention to maintain the King's authority. He stated, further, that
it was the King's command that the play should be acted, and that all
offenders would be immediately secured by the guards in waiting. In
opposition to the magistrate it was maintained "that the audience had
a legal right to show their dislike to any play or actor; that the
judicature of the pit had been acquiesced in, time immemorial; and as
the present set of actors were to take their fate from the public,
they were free to receive them as they pleased." When the curtain drew
up the actors were discovered standing between two files of
grenadiers, with their bayonets fixed and resting on their firelocks.
This seeming endeavour to secure the success of French acting by the
aid of British bayonets still more infuriated the audience. Even
Justice Deveil thought it prudent to order the withdrawal of the
military. The actors attempted to speak, but their voices were
overborne by hisses, groans, and "not only catcalls, but all the
various portable instruments that could make a disagreeable noise." A
dance was next essayed; but even this had been provided against:
showers of peas descended upon the stage, and "made capering very
unsafe." The French and Spanish Ambassadors, with their ladies, who
had occupied the stage-box, now withdrew, only to be insulted outside
the theatre by the mob, who had cut the traces of their carriages. The
curtain at last fell, and the attempt to present French plays at the
Haymarket was abandoned, "the public being justly indignant that
whilst an arbitrary Act suppressed native talent, foreign adventurers
should be patronised and encouraged." It must be said, however, that
the French actors suffered for sins not their own, and that the wrath
of the public did not really reach the Lord Chamberlain, or effect any
change in the Licensing Act.
For twenty years the Haymarket remained without a license of any
endurance. The theatre was occasionally opened, however, for brief
seasons, by special permission of the Chamberlain, or in defiance of
his authority, many ingenious subterfuges being resorted to, so that
the penalties imposed by the Act might be evaded. One of the
advertisements ran--"At Cibber's Academy, in the Haymarket, will be a
concert, after which will be exhibited (gratis) a rehearsal, in form
of a play, called Romeo and Juliet." Macklin, the actor, opened the
theatre in 1744, and under the pretence of instructing "unfledged
performers" in "the science of acting," gave a variety of dramatic
representations. It was expressly announced that no money would be
taken at the doors, "nor any person admitted but by printed tickets,
which will be delivered by Mr. Macklin, at his house in Bow Street,
Covent Garden." At one of these performances Samuel Foote made his
first appearance upon the stage, sustaining the part of Othello.
Presently, Foote ventured to give upon the stage of the Haymarket, a
monologue entertainment, called "Diversions of a Morning." At the
instance of Lacy, however, one of the patentees of Drury Lane Theatre,
whom Foote had satirised, the performance was soon prohibited. But
Foote was not easily discouraged; and, by dint of wit and impudence,
for some time baffled the authorities. He invited his friends to
attend the theatre, at noon, and "drink a dish of chocolate with him."
He promised that he would "endeavour to make the morning as diverting
as possible;" and notified that "Sir Dilbury Diddle would be there,
and Lady Betty Frisk had absolutely promised." Tickets, without which
no person would be admitted, were to be obtained at George's Coffee
House, Temple Bar. Some simple visitors, no doubt, expected that
chocolate would be really served to them. But the majority were
content with an announcement from the stage that, while chocolate was
preparing, Mr. Foote would, with the permission of his friends,
proceed with his instruction of certain pupils he was educating in the
art of acting. Under this pretence a dramatic representation was
really given, and repeated on some forty occasions. Then he grew
bolder, and opened the theatre in the evening, at the request, as he
stated, "of several persons who are desirous of spending an hour with
Mr. Foote, but find the time inconvenient." Instead of chocolate in
the morning, Mr. Foot's friends were therefore invited to drink "a
dish of tea" with him at half-past six in the evening. By-and-by, his
entertainment was slightly varied, and described as an Auction of
Pictures. Eventually, Foote obtained from the Duke of Devonshire, the
Lord Chamberlain, a permanent license for the theatre, and the
Haymarket took rank as a regular and legal place of entertainment, to
be open, however, only during the summer months. Upon Foote's decease,
the theatre devolved upon George Colman, who obtained a continuance of
the license.
The theatre in Goodman's Fields underwent experiences very similar to
those of the Haymarket. Under the provisions of the Licensing Act its
performances became liable to the charge of illegality. It was without
a patent or a license. It was kept open professedly for concerts of
vocal and instrumental music, divided into two parts. Between these
parts dramatic performances were presented gratis. The obscurity of
the theatre, combined with its remote position, probably protected it
for some time from interference and suppression. But on the 19th
October, 1741, at this unlicensed theatre, a gentleman, who, as the
playbill of the night untruly stated, had never before appeared on any
stage, undertook the part of Richard III. in Cibber's version of
Shakespeare's tragedy. The gentleman's name was David Garrick. Had he
failed the theatre might have lived on. But his success was fatal to
it. The public went in crowds from all parts of the town to see the
new actor. "From the polite ends of Westminster the most elegant
company flocked to Goodman's Fields, insomuch that from Temple Bar the
whole way was covered with a string of coaches." The patentees of
Drury Lane and Covent Garden interfered, "alarmed at the deficiency
of their own receipts," and invoked the aid of the Lord Chamberlain.
The Goodman's Fields Theatre was closed, and Garrick was spirited away
to Drury Lane, with a salary of 600 guineas a-year, a larger sum than
had ever before been awarded to any performer.
It will be seen that the Chamberlain had deemed it his mission to
limit, as much as possible, the number of places of theatrical
entertainment in London. Playgoers were bidden to be content with
Drury Lane and Covent Garden; it was not conceivable to the noblemen
and commoners occupying the Houses of Parliament, or to the
place-holders in the Chamberlain's office, or in the royal household,
that other theatres could possibly be required.
Still attempts were occasionally made to establish additional places
of entertainment. In 1785, John Palmer, the actor famous as the
original Joseph Surface, laid the first stone of a new theatre, to be
called the East London, or Royalty, in the neighbourhood of the old
Goodman's Fields Theatre, which had been many years abandoned of the
actors and converted into a goods warehouse. The building was
completed in 1787. The opening representation was announced; when the
proprietors of the patent theatres gave warning that any infringement
of their privileges would be followed by the prosecution of Mr. Palmer
and his company. The performances took place, nevertheless, but they
were stated to be for the benefit of the London Hospital, and not,
therefore, for "hire, gain, or reward;" so the actors avoided risk of
commitment as rogues and vagabonds. But necessarily the enterprise
ended in disaster. Palmer, his friends alleged, lost his whole
fortune; it was shrewdly suspected, however, that he had, in truth, no
fortune to lose. In any case he speedily retired from the new theatre.
It was open for brief seasons with such exhibitions of music, dancing,
and pantomime, as were held to be unaffected by the Act, and
permissible under the license of the local magistrates. From time to
time, however, the relentless patentees took proceedings against the
actors. Delpini, the clown, was even committed to prison for
exclaiming "Roast Beef!" in a Christmas pantomime. By uttering words
without the accompaniment of music he had, it appeared, constituted
himself an actor of a stage play.
Some five-and-twenty years later, Elliston was now memorialising the
king, now petitioning the House of Commons and the Privy Council, in
reference to the opening of an additional theatre. He had been in
treaty for the Pantheon, in Oxford Street, and urged that "the
intellectual community would be benefited by an extension of license
for the regular drama." As lessee of the Royal Circus or Surrey
Theatre, he besought liberty to exhibit and perform "all such
entertainments of music and action as were commonly called pantomimes
and ballets, together with operatic or musical pieces, accompanied
with dialogue in the ordinary mode of dramatic representations,"
subject, at all times, to the control and restraint of the Lord
Chamberlain, "in conformity to the laws by which theatres possessing
those extensive privileges were regulated." But all was in vain. The
king would not "notice any representation connected with the
establishment of another theatre." The other petitions were without
result.
Gradually, however, it became necessary for the authorities to
recognise the fact that the public really did require more amusements
of a theatrical kind than the privileged theatres could furnish. But
the regular drama, it was held, must still be protected: performed
only on the patent boards. So now "burletta licenses" were issued,
under cover of which melodramas were presented, with entertainments of
music and dancing, spectacle and pantomime. In 1809, the Lyceum or
English Opera House, which for some years before had been licensed for
music and dancing, was licensed for "musical dramatic entertainments
and ballets of action." The Adelphi, then called the Sans Pareil
Theatre, received a "burletta license" about the same time. In 1813 the
Olympic was licensed for similar performances and for horsemanship;
but it was for a while closed again by the Chamberlain's order, upon
Elliston's attempt to call the theatre Little Drury Lane, and to
represent upon its stage something more like the "regular drama" than
had been previously essayed at a minor house. "Burletta licenses" were
also granted for the St. James's in 1835, and for the Strand in 1836.
And, in despite of the authorities, theatres had been established on
the Surrey side of the Thames; but, in truth, for the accommodation of
the dwellers on the Middlesex shore. Under the Licensing Act, while
the Chamberlain was constituted licenser of all new plays throughout
Great Britain, his power to grant licenses for theatrical
entertainments was confined within the city and liberties of
Westminster, and wherever the sovereign might reside. The Surrey, the
Coburg (afterwards the Victoria), Astley's, &c., were, therefore, out
of his jurisdiction. There seemed, indeed, to be no law in existence
under which they could be licensed. They affected to be open under a
magistrate's license for "music, dancing, and public entertainments."
But this, in truth, afforded them no protection when it was thought
worth while to prosecute the managers for presenting dramatic
exhibitions. For although an Act, passed in the 28th year of George
III., enabled justices of the peace, under certain restrictions, to
grant licenses for dramatic entertainments, their powers did not
extend to within twenty miles of London. Lambeth was thus neutral
ground, over which neither the Lord Chamberlain nor the country
justices had any real authority, with this difficulty about the
case--performances that could not be licensed could not be legalised.
The law continued in this unsatisfactory state till the passing, in
1843, of the Act for Regulating Theatres. This deprived the patent
theatres of their monopoly of the "regular drama," in that it extended
the Lord Chamberlain's power to grant licenses for the performance of
stage plays to all theatres within the parliamentary boundaries of the
City of London and Westminster, and of the Boroughs of Finsbury and
Marylebone, the Tower Hamlets, Lambeth, and Southwark, and also
"within those places where Her Majesty, her heirs and successors,
shall, in their royal persons, occasionally reside;" it being fully
understood that all the theatres then existing in London would receive
forthwith the Chamberlain's license "to give stage plays in the
fullest sense of the word;" to be taken to include, according to the
terms of the Act, "every tragedy, comedy, farce, opera, burletta,
interlude, melodrama, pantomime, or other entertainment of the stage,
or any part thereof."
Thus, at last, more than a century after the passing of the Licensing
Act, certain of its more mischievous restrictions were in effect
repealed. A measure of free trade in theatres was established. The
Lord Chamberlain was still to be "the lawful monarch of the stage,"
but in the future his rule was to be more constitutional, less
absolute than it had been. The public were no longer to be confined to
Drury Lane and Covent Garden in the winter, and the Haymarket in the
summer. Actors were enabled, managers and public consenting, to
personate Hamlet or Macbeth, or other heroes of the poetic stage, at
Lambeth, Clerkenwell, or Shoreditch, anywhere indeed, without risk of
committal to gaol. It was no longer necessary to call a play a
"burletta," or to touch a note upon the piano, now and then, in the
course of a performance, so as to justify its claim to be a musical
entertainment; all subterfuges of this kind ceased.
It was with considerable reluctance, however, that the Chamberlain, in
his character of Licenser of Playhouses, divested himself of the
paternal authority he had so long exercised. He still clung to the
notion that he was a far better judge of the requirements and desires
of playgoers than they could possibly be themselves. He was strongly
of opinion that the number of theatres was "sufficient for the
theatrical wants of the metropolis." He could not allow that the
matter should be regulated by the ordinary laws of supply and demand,
or by any regard for the large annual increase of the population.
Systematically he hindered all enterprise in the direction of new
theatres. It was always doubtful whether his license would be granted,
even after a new building had been completed. He decided that he must
be guided by his own views of "the interests of the public." It is not
clear that he possessed authority in this respect other than that
derived from custom and the traditions of his office. The Act of 1843
contained no special provisions on the subject. But he insisted that
all applicants for the licensing of new theatres should be armed with
petitions in favour of the proposal, signed by many of the inhabitants
in the immediate vicinity of the projected building; he 'required the
Police Commissioners to verify the truth of these petitions, and to
report whether inconvenience was likely to result in the way of
interruption of traffic, or otherwise, from the establishment of a new
theatre. Further, he obtained the opinion of the parish authorities,
the churchwardens, &c., of the district; he was even suspected of
taking counsel with the managers of neighbouring establishments; "in
short, he endeavoured to convince himself generally that the grant of
the license would satisfy a legitimate want"--or what the Chamberlain
in his wisdom, or his unwisdom, held to be such.
Under these conditions it is not surprising that for nearly a quarter
of a century there was no addition made to the list of London
theatres. But time moves on, and even Chamberlains have to move with
it. Of late years there has been no difficulty in regard to the
licensing of new theatres, and the metropolis has been the richer by
many well-conducted houses of dramatic entertainment.