A BILL OF THE PLAY.
Are there, nowadays, any collectors of playbills? In the catalogues of
secondhand booksellers are occasionally to be found such entries as:
"Playbills of the Theatre Royal, Bath, 1807 to 1812;" or "Hull Theatre
Royal--various bills of performances between 1815 and 1850;" or
"Covent Garden Theatre--variety of old bills of the last century
pasted in a volume;" yet these evidences of the care and diligence of
past collectors would not seem to obtain much appreciation in the
present. The old treasures can generally be purchased at a very
moderate outlay. Still, if scarceness is an element of value, these
things should be precious. It is in the nature of such ephemera of the
printing-press to live their short hour, and disappear with exceeding
suddenness. They may be originally issued in hundreds or even in
thousands; but once gone they are gone for ever. Relative to such
matters there is an energy of destruction that keeps pace with the
industry of production. The demands of "waste" must be met: fires must
be lighted. So away go the loose papers, sheets and pamphlets of the
minute. They have served their turn, and there is an end of them.
Hence the difficulty of obtaining, when needed, a copy of a newspaper
of old date, or the guide-book or programme of a departed
entertainment, or the catalogue of a past auction of books or
pictures. It has been noted that, notwithstanding the enormous
circulation it enjoyed, the catalogue of our Great Exhibition of a
score of years ago is already a somewhat rare volume. Complete sets of
the catalogues of the Royal Academy's century of exhibitions are
possessed by very few. And of playbills of the English stage from the
Restoration down to the present time, although the British Museum can
certainly boast a rich collection, yet this is disfigured here and
there by gaps and deficiencies which cannot now possibly be supplied.
The playbill is an ancient thing. Mr. Payne Collier states that the
practice of printing information as to the time, place, and nature of
the performances to be presented by the players was certainly common
prior to the year 1563. John Northbrooke, in his treatise against
theatrical performers, published about 1579, says: "They used to set
up their bills upon posts some certain days before, to admonish people
to make resort to their theatres." The old plays make frequent
reference to this posting of the playbills. Thus, in the Induction to
"A Warning for Fair Women," 1599, Tragedy whips Comedy from the stage,
crying:
'Tis you have kept the theatre so long
Painted in playbills upon every post,
While I am scorned of the multitude.
Taylor, the water-poet, in his "Wit and Mirth," records the story of
Field the actor's riding rapidly up Fleet Street, and being stopped by
a gentleman with an inquiry as to the play that was to be played that
night. Field, "being angry to be stayed upon so frivolous a demand,
answered, that he might see what play was to be played upon every
post. 'I cry you mercy,' said the gentleman. 'I took you for a post,
you rode so fast.'"
It is strange to find that the right of printing playbills was
originally monopolised by the Stationers' Company. At a later period,
however, the privilege was assumed and exercised by the Crown. In
1620, James I. granted a patent to Roger Wood and Thomas Symcock for
the sole printing, among other things, of "all bills for playes,
pastimes, showes, challenges, prizes, or sportes whatsoever." It was
not until after the Restoration that the playbills contained a list of
the _dramatis personæ_, or of the names of the actors. But it had been
usual, apparently, with the title of the drama, to supply the name of
its author, and its description as a tragedy or comedy. Shirley, in
the prologue to his "Cardinal," apologises for calling it only a
"play" in the bill:
Think what you please, we call it but a "play:"
Whether the comic muse, or lady's love,
Romance or direful tragedy it prove,
The bill determines not.
From a later passage in the same prologue Mr. Collier judges that the
titles of tragedies were usually printed, for the sake of distinction,
in red ink:
----and you would be
Persuaded I would have't a comedy
For all the purple in the name.
But this may be a reference to the colour of a cardinal's robes. There
is probably no playbill extant of an earlier date than 1663. About
this time, in the case of a new play, it was usual to state in the
bill that it had been "never acted before."
In the earliest days of the stage, before the invention of printing,
the announcement that theatrical performances were about to be
exhibited was made by sound of trumpet, much after the manner of
modern strollers and showmen at fairs and street-corners. Indeed, long
after playbills had become common, this musical advertisement was
still requisite for the due information of the unlettered patrons of
the stage. In certain towns the musicians were long looked upon as the
indispensable heralds of the actors. Tate Wilkinson, writing in 1790,
records that a custom obtained at Norwich, "and if abolished it has
not been many years," of proclaiming in every street with drum and
trumpet the performances to be presented at the theatre in the
evening. A like practice also prevailed at Grantham. To the
Lincolnshire company of players, however, this musical preface to
their efforts seemed objectionable and derogatory, and they
determined, on one of their visits to the town, to dispense with the
old-established sounds. But the reform resulted in empty benches.
Thereupon the "revered, well-remembered, and beloved Marquis of
Granby" sent for the manager of the troop and thus addressed him: "Mr.
Manager, I like a play; I like a player; and I shall be glad to serve
you. But, my good friend, why are you all so offended at and averse to
the noble sound of a drum? I like it, and all the inhabitants like
it. Put my name on your playbill, provided you drum, but not
otherwise. Try the effect on to-morrow night; if then you are as
thinly attended as you have lately been, shut up your playhouse at
once; but if it succeeds, drum away!" The players withdrew their
opposition and followed the counsel of the marquis. The musical
prelude was again heard in the streets of Grantham, and crowded houses
were obtained. The company enjoyed a prosperous season, and left the
town in great credit. "And I am told," adds Wilkinson, "the custom is
continued at Grantham to this day."
An early instance of the explanatory address, signed by the dramatist
or manager, which so frequently accompanies the modern playbill, is to
be found in the fly-sheet issued by Dryden in 1665. The poet thought
it expedient in this way to inform the audience that his tragedy of
"The Indian Emperor" was to be regarded as a sequel to a former work,
"The Indian Queen," which he had written in conjunction with his
brother-in-law, Sir Robert Howard. The handbill excited some
amusement, by reason of its novelty, for in itself it was but a simple
and useful intimation. In ridicule of this proceeding, Bayes, the hero
of the Duke of Buckingham's burlesque, "The Rehearsal," is made to
say: "I have printed above a hundred sheets of paper to insinuate the
plot into the boxes."
Chetwood, who had been twenty years prompter at Drury Lane, and in
1749 published a "History of the Stage," describes a difficulty that
had arisen in regard to printing the playbills. Of old the list of
characters had been set forth according to the books of the plays,
without regard to the merits of the performers. "As, for example, in
'Macbeth,' Duncan, King of Scotland, appeared first in the bill,
though acted by an insignificant person, and so every other actor
appeared according to his dramatic dignity, all of the same-sized
letter. But latterly, I can assure my readers, I have found it a
difficult task to please some ladies as well as gentlemen, because I
could not find letters large enough to please them; and some were so
fond of elbow room that they would have shoved everybody out but
themselves, as if one person was to do all and have the merit of all,
like generals of an army." Garrick seems to have been the first actor
honoured by capital letters of extra size in the playbills. "The
Connoisseur," in 1754, says: "The writer of the playbills deals out
his capitals in so just a proportion that you may tell the salary of
each actor by the size of the letter in which his name is printed.
When the present manager of Drury Lane first came on the stage, a new
set of types, two inches long, were cast on purpose to do honour to
his extraordinary merit." These distinctions in the matter of printing
occasioned endless jealousies among the actors. Macklin made it an
express charge against his manager, Sheridan, the actor, that he was
accustomed to print his own name in larger type than was permitted the
other performers. Kean threatened to throw up his engagement at Drury
Lane on account of his name having been printed in capitals of a
smaller size than usual. His engagement of 1818 contained a condition,
"and also that his name shall be continued in the bills of performance
in the same manner as it is at present," viz., large letters. On the
other hand, Dowton, the comedian, greatly objected to having his name
thus particularised, and expostulated with Elliston, his manager, on
the subject. "I am sorry you have done this," he wrote. "You know well
what I mean. This cursed quackery. These big letters. There is a want
of respectability about it, or rather a notoriety, which gives one the
feeling of an absconded felon, against whom a hue-and-cry is made
public. Or if there be really any advantage in it, why should I, or
any single individual, take it over the rest of our brethren? But it
has a nasty disreputable look, and I have fancied the whole day the
finger of the town pointed at me, as much as to say, 'That is he! Now
for the reward!' Leave this expedient to the police officers, or to
those who have a taste for it. I have none."
Macready, under date of 28th September, 1840, enters in his journal:
"Spoke to Webster on the subject of next year's engagement. He said
that he understood I had said that while I was comfortable at the
Haymarket I would stay. _I mentioned the position of my name on the
playbills; that it should not, on any occasion be put under any other
person's, as it had been_; that I should have the right to a private
box when they were not let," &c.
O'Keeffe relates that once when an itinerant showman brought over to
Dublin a trained monkey of great acquirements, Mossop engaged the
animal at a large salary to appear for a limited number of nights at
his theatre. Mossop's name in the playbill was always in a type nearly
two inches long, the rest of the performers' names being in very small
letters. But to the monkey were devoted capitals of equal size to
Mossop's; so that, greatly to the amusement of the public, on the
playbills pasted about the town, nothing could be distinguished but
the words, MOSSOP, MONKEY. Under John Kemble's management, "for his
greater ease and the quiet of the theatre," letters of unreasonable
size were abandoned, and the playbills were printed after an amended
and more modest pattern.
With the rise and growth of the press came the expediency of
advertising the performances of the theatres in the columns of the
newspapers. To the modern manager advertisements are a very formidable
expense. The methods he is compelled to resort to in order to bring
his plays and players well under the notice of the public, involve a
serious charge upon his receipts. But of old the case was precisely
the reverse. The theatres were strong, the newspapers were weak. So
far from the manager paying money for the insertion of his
advertisements in the journals, he absolutely received profits on this
account. The press then suffered under severe restrictions, and was
most jealously regarded by the governing powers; leading articles were
as yet unknown; the printing of parliamentary debates was strictly
prohibited; foreign intelligence was scarcely obtainable; of home news
there was little stirring that could with safety be promulgated. So
that the proceedings of the theatres became of real importance to the
newspaper proprietor, and it was worth his while to pay considerable
sums for early information in this respect. Moreover, in those days,
not merely by reason of its own merits, but because of the absence of
competing attractions and other sources of entertainment, the stage
was much more than at present an object of general regard. In Andrew's
"History of British Journalism" it is recorded on the authority of the
ledger of Henry Woodfall, the publisher of the _Public Advertiser_:
"The theatres are a great expense to the papers. Amongst the items of
payment are: Playhouses, £100. Drury Lane advertisements, £64 8s. 6d.;
Covent Garden ditto, £66 11s. The papers paid £200 a-year to each
theatre for the accounts of new plays, and would reward the messenger
with a shilling or half-a-crown who brought them the first copy of a
playbill." In 1721, the following announcement appeared in the _Daily
Post_: "The managers of Drury Lane think it proper to give notice that
advertisements of their plays, by their authority, are published only
in this paper and the _Daily Courant_, and that the publishers of all
other papers who insert advertisements of the same plays, can do it
only by some surreptitious intelligence or hearsay, which frequently
leads them to commit gross errors, as, mentioning one play for
another, falsely representing the parts, &c., to the misinformation of
the town, and the great detriment of the said theatre." And the
_Public Advertiser_ of January 1st, 1765, contains a notice: "To
prevent any mistake in future in advertising the plays and
entertainments of Drury Lane Theatre, the managers think it proper to
declare that the playbills are inserted by their direction in this
paper only." It is clear that the science of advertising was but dimly
understood at this date. Even the shopkeepers then paid for the
privilege of exhibiting bills in their windows, whereas now they
require to be rewarded for all exertions of this kind, by, at any
rate, free admissions to the entertainments advertised, if not by a
specific payment of money. The exact date when the managers began to
pay instead of receive on the score of their advertisements, is hardly
to be ascertained. Genest, in his laborious "History of the Stage,"
says obscurely of the year 1745: "At this time the plays were
advertised at three shillings and sixpence each night or advertisement
in the _General Advertiser_." It may be that the adverse systems went
on together for some time. The managers may have paid certain journals
for the regular insertion of advertisements, and received payment from
less favoured or less influential newspapers for theatrical news or
information.
One of Charles Lamb's most pleasant papers arose from "the casual
sight of an old playbill which I picked up the other day; I know not
by what chance it was preserved so long." It was but two-and-thirty
years old, however, and presented the cast of parts in "Twelfth Night"
at Old Drury Lane Theatre, destroyed by fire in 1809. Lamb's delight
in the stage needs not to be again referred to. "There is something
very touching in these old remembrances," he writes. "They make us
think how we once used to read a playbill, not as now, peradventure
singling out a favourite performer and casting a negligent eye over
the rest; but spelling out every name down to the very mutes and
servants of the scene; when it was a matter of no small moment to us
whether Whitfield or Packer took the part of Fabian; when Benson, and
Burton, and Phillimore--names of small account--had an importance
beyond what we can be content to attribute now to the time's best
actors." The fond industry with which a youthful devotee of the
theatre studies the playbills could hardly be more happily indicated
than in this extract.
Mention of Old Drury Lane and its burning bring us naturally to the
admirable "story of the flying playbill," contained in the parody of
Crabbe, perhaps the most perfect specimen in that unique collection of
parodies, "Rejected Addresses." The verses by the pseudo-Crabbe
include the following lines:
Perchance while pit and gallery cry "Hats off!"
And awed consumption checks his chided cough,
Some giggling daughter of the Queen of Love
Drops, reft of pin, her playbill from above;
Like Icarus, while laughing galleries clap,
Soars, ducks, and dives in air the printed scrap;
But, wiser far than he, combustion fears;
And, as it flies, eludes the chandeliers;
Till, sinking gradual, with repeated twirl,
It settles, curling, on a fiddler's curl,
Who from his powdered pate the intruder strikes,
And, for mere malice, sticks it on the spikes.
"The story of the flying playbill," says the mock-preface, "is
calculated to expose a practice, much too common, of pinning playbills
to the cushions insecurely, and frequently, I fear, not pinning them
at all. If these lines save one playbill only from the fate I have
recorded, I shall not deem my labour ill employed."
Modern playbills may be described as of two classes, indoor and
out-of-door. The latter are known also as "posters," and may thus
manifest their connection with the early method of "setting up
playbills upon posts." Shakespeare's audiences were not supplied with
handbills as our present playgoers are; such of them as could read
were probably content to derive all the information they needed from
the notices affixed to the doors of the theatre, or otherwise publicly
exhibited. Of late years the vendors of playbills, who were wont
urgently to pursue every vehicle that seemed to them bound to the
theatre, in the hope of disposing of their wares, have greatly
diminished in numbers, if they have not wholly disappeared. Many
managers have forbidden altogether the sale of bills outside the doors
of their establishments. The indoor programmes are again divided into
two kinds. To the lower-priced portions of the house an inferior bill
is devoted; a folio sheet of thin paper, heavily laden and strongly
odorous with printers' ink. Visitors to the more expensive seats are
now supplied with a scented bill of octavo size, which is generally,
in addition, the means of advertising the goods and inventions of an
individual perfumer. Attempts to follow Parisian example, and to make
the playbill at once a vehicle for general advertisements and a source
of amusing information upon theatrical subjects, have been ventured
here occasionally, but without decided success. From time to time
papers started with this object under such titles as the "Opera
Glass," the "Curtain," the "Drop Scene," &c., have appeared, but they
have failed to secure a sufficiency of patronage. The playgoer's
openness to receive impressions or information of any kind by way of
employment during the intervals of representation, has not been
unperceived by the advertisers, however, and now and then, as a
result, a monstrosity called an "advertising curtain" has disfigured
the stage. Some new development of the playbill in this direction may
be in store for us in the future. The difficulty lies, perhaps, in the
gilding of the pill. Advertisements by themselves are not very
attractive reading, and a mixed audience cannot safely be credited
with a ruling appetite merely for dramatic intelligence.