[Illustration: Ad Lalauze, sc]
_A short View of the Stage, from the Year 1660 to the
Revolution. The King's and Duke's Company united, composed the
best Set of_ English _Actors yet known. Their several
Theatrical Characters._
Tho' I have only promis'd you an Account of all the material Occurrences
of the Theatre during my own Time, yet there was one which happen'd not
above seven Years before my Admission to it, which may be as well worth
notice as the first great Revolution of it, in which, among numbers, I
was involv'd. And as the one will lead you into a clearer View of the
other, it may therefore be previously necessary to let you know that.
King _Charles_ II. at his Restoration granted two Patents, one to Sir
_William Davenant_,[78] and the other to _Thomas Killigrew_, Esq.,[79]
and their several Heirs and Assigns, for ever, for the forming of two
distinct Companies of Comedians: The first were call'd the _King's
Servants,_ and acted at the Theatre-Royal in _Drury-Lane_;[80] and the
other the _Duke's Company_, who acted at the Duke's Theatre in
_Dorset-Garden_.[81] About ten of the King's Company were on the Royal
Houshold-Establishment, having each ten Yards of Scarlet Cloth, with a
proper quantity of Lace allow'd them for Liveries; and in their Warrants
from the Lord Chamberlain were stiled _Gentlemen of the Great
Chamber_.[82] Whether the like Appointments were extended to the Duke's
Company, I am not certain; but they were both in high Estimation with
the Publick, and so much the Delight and Concern of the Court, that
they were not only supported by its being frequently present at their
publick _Presentations_, but by its taking cognizance even of their
private Government, insomuch that their particular Differences,
Pretentions, or Complaints were generally ended by the _King_ or
_Duke_'s Personal Command or Decision. Besides their being thorough
Masters of their Art, these Actors set forwards with two critical
Advantages, which perhaps may never happen again in many Ages. The one
was, their immediate opening after the so long Interdiction of Plays
during the Civil War and the Anarchy that followed it. What eager
Appetites from so long a Fast must the Guests of those Times have had to
that high and fresh variety of Entertainments which _Shakespear_ had
left prepared for them? Never was a Stage so provided! A hundred Years
are wasted, and another silent Century well advanced, and yet what
unborn Age shall say _Shakespear_ has his equal! How many shining Actors
have the warm Scenes of his Genius given to Posterity? without being
himself in his Action equal to his Writing! A strong Proof that Actors,
like Poets, must be born such. Eloquence and Elocution are quite
different Talents: _Shakespear_ could write _Hamlet,_ but Tradition
tells us That the _Ghost_, in the same Play, was one of his best
Performances as an Actor: Nor is it within the reach of Rule or Precept
to complete either of them. Instruction, 'tis true, may guard them
equally against Faults or Absurdities, but there it stops; Nature must
do the rest: To excel in either Art is a self-born Happiness which
something more than good Sense must be the Mother of.
[Illustration: THOMAS BETTERTON.]
The other Advantage I was speaking of is, that before the Restoration no
Actresses had ever been seen upon the _English_ Stage.[83] The
Characters of Women on former Theatres were perform'd by Boys, or young
Men of the most effeminate Aspect. And what Grace or Master-strokes of
Action can we conceive such ungain Hoydens to have been capable of? This
Defect was so well considered by _Shakespear_, that in few of his Plays
he has any greater Dependance upon the Ladies than in the Innocence and
Simplicity of a _Desdemona_, an _Ophelia_, or in the short Specimen of a
fond and virtuous _Portia_. The additional Objects then of real,
beautiful Women could not but draw a Proportion of new Admirers to the
Theatre. We may imagine, too, that these Actresses were not ill chosen,
when it is well known that more than one of them had Charms sufficient
at their leisure Hours to calm and mollify the Cares of Empire.[84]
Besides these peculiar Advantages, they had a private Rule or Agreement,
which both Houses were happily ty'd down to, which was, that no Play
acted at one House should ever be attempted at the other. All the
capital Plays therefore of _Shakespear_, _Fletcher_, and _Ben. Johnson_
were divided between them by the Approbation of the Court and their own
alternate Choice.[85] So that when _Hart_[86] was famous for _Othello,
Betterton_ had no less a Reputation for _Hamlet_. By this Order the
Stage was supply'd with a greater Variety of Plays than could possibly
have been shewn had both Companies been employ'd at the same time upon
the same Play; which Liberty, too, must have occasion'd such frequent
Repetitions of 'em, by their opposite Endeavours to forestall and
anticipate one another, that the best Actors in the World must have
grown tedious and tasteless to the Spectator: For what Pleasure is not
languid to Satiety?[87] It was therefore one of our greatest
Happinesses (during my time of being in the Menagement of the Stage)
that we had a certain Number of select Plays which no other Company had
the good Fortune to make a tolerable Figure in, and consequently could
find little or no Account by acting them against us. These Plays
therefore for many Years, by not being too often seen, never fail'd to
bring us crowded Audiences; and it was to this Conduct we ow'd no little
Share of our Prosperity. But when four Houses[88] are at once (as very
lately they were) all permitted to act the same Pieces, let three of
them perform never so ill, when Plays come to be so harrass'd and
hackney'd out to the common People (half of which too, perhaps, would as
lieve see them at one House as another) the best Actors will soon feel
that the Town has enough of them.
I know it is the common Opinion, That the more Play-houses the more
Emulation; I grant it; but what has this Emulation ended in? Why, a
daily Contention which shall soonest surfeit you with the best Plays;
so that when what _ought_ to please can no _longer_ please, your
Appetite is again to be raised by such monstrous Presentations as
dishonour the Taste of a civiliz'd People.[89] If, indeed, to our
several Theatres we could raise a proportionable Number of good Authors
to give them all different Employment, then perhaps the Publick might
profit from their Emulation: But while good Writers are so scarce, and
undaunted Criticks so plenty, I am afraid a good Play and a blazing Star
will be equal Rarities. This voluptuous Expedient, therefore, of
indulging the Taste with several Theatres, will amount to much the same
variety as that of a certain Oeconomist, who, to enlarge his
Hospitality, would have two Puddings and two Legs of Mutton for the same
Dinner.[90]--But to resume the Thread of my History.
These two excellent Companies were both prosperous for some few Years,
'till their Variety of Plays began to be exhausted: Then of course the
better Actors (which the King's seem to have been allowed) could not
fail of drawing the greater Audiences. Sir _William Davenant_,
therefore, Master of the Duke's Company, to make Head against their
Success, was forced to add Spectacle and Musick to Action; and to
introduce a new Species of Plays, since call'd Dramatick Opera's, of
which kind were the _Tempest_, _Psyche_, _Circe_, and others, all set
off with the most expensive Decorations of Scenes and Habits, with the
best Voices and Dancers.[91]
This sensual Supply of Sight and Sound coming in to the Assistance of
the weaker Party, it was no Wonder they should grow too hard for Sense
and simple Nature, when it is consider'd how many more People there are,
that can see and hear, than think and judge. So wanton a Change of the
publick Taste, therefore, began to fall as heavy upon the King's Company
as their greater Excellence in Action had before fallen upon their
Competitors: Of which Encroachment upon Wit several good Prologues in
those Days frequently complain'd.[92]
But alas! what can Truth avail, when its Dependance is much more upon
the Ignorant than the sensible Auditor? a poor Satisfaction, that the
due Praise given to it must at last sink into the cold Comfort
of--_Laudatur & Alget_.[93] Unprofitable Praise can hardly give it a
_Soup maigre_. Taste and Fashion with us have always had Wings, and fly
from one publick Spectacle to another so wantonly, that I have been
inform'd by those who remember it, that a famous Puppet-shew[94] in
_Salisbury_ Change (then standing where _Cecil-Street_ now is) so far
distrest these two celebrated Companies, that they were reduced to
petition the King for Relief against it: Nor ought we perhaps to think
this strange, when, if I mistake not, _Terence_ himself reproaches the
_Roman_ Auditors of his Time with the like Fondness for the _Funambuli_,
the Rope-dancers.[95] Not to dwell too long therefore upon that Part of
my History which I have only collected from oral Tradition, I shall
content myself with telling you that _Mohun_[96] and _Hart_ now growing
old (for, above thirty Years before this Time, they had severally born
the King's Commission of Major and Captain in the Civil Wars), and the
younger Actors, as _Goodman_,[97] _Clark_,[98] and others, being
impatient to get into their Parts, and growing intractable,[99] the
Audiences too of both Houses then falling off, the Patentees of each, by
the King's Advice, which perhaps amounted to a Command, united their
Interests and both Companies into one, exclusive of all others, in the
Year 1682.[100] This Union was, however, so much in favour of the Duke's
Company, that _Hart_ left the Stage upon it, and _Mohun_ survived not
long after.
One only Theatre being now in Possession of the whole Town, the united
Patentees imposed their own Terms upon the Actors; for the Profits of
acting were then divided into twenty Shares, ten of which went to the
Proprietors, and the other Moiety to the principal Actors, in such
Sub-divisions as their different Merit might pretend to. These Shares of
the Patentees were promiscuously sold out to Money-making Persons,
call'd Adventurers,[101] who, tho' utterly ignorant of Theatrical
Affairs, were still admitted to a proportionate Vote in the Menagement
of them; all particular Encouragements to Actors were by them, of
Consequence, look'd upon as so many Sums deducted from their private
Dividends. While therefore the Theatrical Hive had so many Drones in it,
the labouring Actors, sure, were under the highest Discouragement, if
not a direct State of Oppression. Their Hardship will at least appear in
a much stronger Light when compar'd to our later Situation, who with
scarce half their Merit succeeded to be Sharers under a Patent upon five
times easier Conditions: For as they had but half the Profits divided
among ten or more of them; we had three fourths of the whole Profits
divided only among three of us: And as they might be said to have ten
Task-masters over them, we never had but one Assistant Menager (not an
Actor) join'd with us;[102] who, by the Crown's Indulgence, was
sometimes too of our own chusing. Under this heavy Establishment then
groan'd this United Company when I was first admitted into the lowest
Rank of it. How they came to be relieved by King _William_'s Licence in
1695, how they were again dispersed early in Queen _Anne_'s Reign, and
from what Accidents Fortune took better care of Us, their unequal
Successors, will be told in its Place: But to prepare you for the
opening so large a Scene of their History, methinks I ought (in Justice
to their Memory too) to give you such particular Characters of their
Theatrical Merit as in my plain Judgment they seem'd to deserve.
Presuming then that this Attempt may not be disagreeable to the Curious
or the true Lovers of the Theatre, take it without farther Preface.
In the Year 1690, when I first came into this Company, the principal
Actors then at the Head of it were,
Of Men. Of Women.
Mr. _Betterton_, Mrs. _Betterton_,
Mr. _Monfort_, Mrs. _Barry_,
Mr. _Kynaston_, Mrs. _Leigh_,
Mr. _Sandford_, Mrs. _Butler_,
Mr. _Nokes_, Mrs. _Monfort_, and
Mr. _Underhil_, and Mrs. _Bracegirdle_.
Mr. _Leigh_.
These Actors whom I have selected from their Cotemporaries were all
original Masters in their different Stile, not meer auricular Imitators
of one another, which commonly is the highest Merit of the middle Rank,
but Self-judges of Nature, from whose various Lights they only took
their true Instruction. If in the following Account of them I may be
obliged to hint at the Faults of others, I never mean such Observations
should extend to those who are now in Possession of the Stage; for as I
design not my Memoirs shall come down to their Time, I would not lie
under the Imputation of speaking in their Disfavour to the Publick,
whose Approbation they must depend upon for Support.[103] But to my
Purpose.
_Betterton_ was an Actor, as _Shakespear_ was an Author, both without
Competitors! form'd for the mutual Assistance and Illustration of each
others Genius! How _Shakespear_ wrote, all Men who have a Taste for
Nature may read and know--but with what higher Rapture would he still be
_read_ could they conceive how _Betterton play'd_ him! Then might they
know the one was born alone to speak what the other only knew to write!
Pity it is that the momentary Beauties flowing from an harmonious
Elocution cannot, like those of Poetry, be their own Record! That the
animated Graces of the Player can live no longer than the instant Breath
and Motion that presents them, or at best can but faintly glimmer
through the Memory or imperfect Attestation of a few surviving
Spectators. Could _how Betterton_ spoke be as easily known as _what_ he
spoke, then might you see the Muse of _Shakespear_ in her Triumph, with
all her Beauties in their best Array rising into real Life and charming
her Beholders. But alas! since all this is so far out of the reach of
Description, how shall I shew you _Betterton_? Should I therefore tell
you that all the _Othellos_, _Hamlets_, _Hotspurs_, _Mackbeths_, and
_Brutus_'s whom you may have seen since his Time, have fallen far short
of him; this still would give you no Idea of his particular Excellence.
Let us see then what a particular Comparison may do! whether that may
yet draw him nearer to you?
You have seen a _Hamlet_ perhaps, who, on the first Appearance of his
Father's Spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining Vociferation
requisite to express Rage and Fury, and the House has thunder'd with
Applause; tho' the mis-guided Actor was all the while (as _Shakespear_
terms it) tearing a Passion into Rags[104]----I am the more bold to
offer you this particular Instance, because the late Mr. _Addison_,
while I sate by him to see this Scene acted, made the same Observation,
asking me, with some Surprize, if I thought _Hamlet_ should be in so
violent a Passion with the Ghost, which, tho' it might have astonish'd,
it had not provok'd him? for you may observe that in this beautiful
Speech the Passion never rises beyond an almost breathless Astonishment,
or an Impatience, limited by filial Reverence, to enquire into the
suspected Wrongs that may have rais'd him from his peaceful Tomb! and a
Desire to know what a Spirit so seemingly distrest might wish or enjoin
a sorrowful Son to execute towards his future Quiet in the Grave? This
was the Light into which _Betterton_ threw this Scene; which he open'd
with a Pause of mute Amazement! then rising slowly to a solemn,
trembling Voice, he made the Ghost equally terrible to the Spectator as
to himself![105] and in the descriptive Part of the natural Emotions
which the ghastly Vision gave him, the boldness of his Expostulation was
still govern'd by Decency, manly, but not braving; his Voice never
rising into that seeming Outrage or wild Defiance of what he naturally
rever'd.[106] But alas! to preserve this medium, between mouthing and
meaning too little, to keep the Attention more pleasingly awake by a
temper'd Spirit than by meer Vehemence of Voice, is of all the
Master-strokes of an Actor the most difficult to reach. In this none yet
have equall'd _Betterton_. But I am unwilling to shew his Superiority
only by recounting the Errors of those who now cannot answer to them,
let their farther Failings therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall I in
some measure excuse them? For I am not yet sure that they might not be
as much owing to the false Judgment of the Spectator as the Actor. While
the Million are so apt to be transported when the Drum of their Ear is
so roundly rattled; while they take the Life of Elocution to lie in the
Strength of the Lungs, it is no wonder the Actor, whose end is Applause,
should be also tempted at this easy rate to excite it. Shall I go a
little farther? and allow that this Extreme is more pardonable than its
opposite Error? I mean that dangerous Affectation of the Monotone, or
solemn Sameness of Pronounciation, which, to my Ear, is insupportable;
for of all Faults that so frequently pass upon the Vulgar, that of
Flatness will have the fewest Admirers. That this is an Error of ancient
standing seems evident by what _Hamlet_ says, in his Instructions to the
Players, _viz._
_Be not too tame, neither,_ &c.
The Actor, doubtless, is as strongly ty'd down to the Rules of _Horace_
as the Writer.
_Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primum ipsi tibi_----[107]
He that feels not himself the Passion he would raise, will talk to a
sleeping Audience: But this never was the Fault of _Betterton_; and it
has often amaz'd me to see those who soon came after him throw out, in
some Parts of a Character, a just and graceful Spirit which _Betterton_
himself could not but have applauded. And yet in the equally shining
Passages of the same Character have heavily dragg'd the Sentiment along
like a dead Weight, with a long-ton'd Voice and absent Eye, as if they
had fairly forgot what they were about: If you have never made this
Observation, I am contented you should not know where to apply it.[108]
A farther Excellence in _Betterton_ was, that he could vary his Spirit
to the different Characters he acted. Those wild impatient Starts, that
fierce and flashing Fire, which he threw into _Hotspur_, never came from
the unruffled Temper of his _Brutus_ (for I have more than once seen a
_Brutus_ as warm as _Hotspur_): when the _Betterton Brutus_ was provok'd
in his Dispute with _Cassius,_ his Spirit flew only to his Eye; his
steady Look alone supply'd that Terror which he disdain'd an
Intemperance in his Voice should rise to. Thus, with a settled Dignity
of Contempt, like an unheeding Rock he repelled upon himself the Foam of
_Cassius_. Perhaps the very Words of _Shakespear_ will better let you
into my Meaning:
_Must I give way and room to your rash Choler?
Shall I be frighted when a Madman stares?_
And a little after,
_There is no Terror,_ Cassius, _in your Looks_! &c.
Not but in some part of this Scene, where he reproaches _Cassius,_ his
Temper is not under this Suppression, but opens into that Warmth which
becomes a Man of Virtue; yet this is that _Hasty Spark_ of Anger which
_Brutus_ himself endeavours to excuse.
But with whatever strength of Nature we see the Poet shew at once the
Philosopher and the Heroe, yet the Image of the Actor's Excellence will
be still imperfect to you unless Language could put Colours in our Words
to paint the Voice with.
_Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum_,[109] is enjoyning an
impossibility. The most that a _Vandyke_ can arrive at, is to make his
Portraits of great Persons seem to _think;_ a _Shakespear_ goes farther
yet, and tells you _what_ his Pictures thought; a _Betterton_ steps
beyond 'em both, and calls them from the Grave to breathe and be
themselves again in Feature, Speech, and Motion. When the skilful
Actor shews you all these Powers at once united, and gratifies at once
your Eye, your Ear, your Understanding: To conceive the Pleasure rising
from such Harmony, you must have been present at it! 'tis not to be told
you!
[Illustration: BENJAMIN JOHNSON.]
There cannot be a stronger Proof of the Charms of harmonious Elocution
than the many even unnatural Scenes and Flights of the false Sublime it
has lifted into Applause. In what Raptures have I seen an Audience at
the furious Fustian and turgid Rants in _Nat. Lee's Alexander the
Great_! For though I can allow this Play a few great Beauties, yet it is
not without its extravagant Blemishes. Every Play of the same Author has
more or less of them. Let me give you a Sample from this. _Alexander_,
in a full Crowd of Courtiers, without being occasionally call'd or
provok'd to it, falls into this Rhapsody of Vain-glory.
_Can none remember? Yes, I know all must!_
And therefore they shall know it agen.
_When Glory, like the dazzling Eagle, stood
Perch'd on my Beaver, in the Granic Flood,
When Fortune's Self my Standard trembling bore,
And the pale Fates stood frighted on the Shore,
When the Immortals on the Billows rode,
And I myself appear'd the leading God._[110]
When these flowing Numbers came from the Mouth of a _Betterton_ the
Multitude no more desired Sense to them than our musical _Connoisseurs_
think it essential in the celebrate Airs of an _Italian_ Opera. Does not
this prove that there is very near as much Enchantment in the
well-govern'd Voice of an Actor as in the sweet Pipe of an Eunuch? If I
tell you there was no one Tragedy, for many Years, more in favour with
the Town than _Alexander_, to what must we impute this its command of
publick Admiration? Not to its intrinsick Merit, surely, if it swarms
with passages like this I have shewn you! If this Passage has Merit, let
us see what Figure it would make upon Canvas, what sort of Picture would
rise from it. If _Le Brun_, who was famous for painting the Battles of
this Heroe, had seen this lofty Description, what one Image could he
have possibly taken from it? In what Colours would he have shewn us
_Glory perch'd upon a Beaver_? How would he have drawn _Fortune
trembling_? Or, indeed, what use could he have made of _pale Fates_ or
_Immortals_ riding upon _Billows_, with this blustering _God_ of his own
making at the _head_ of them?[111] Where, then, must have lain the Charm
that once made the Publick so partial to this Tragedy? Why plainly, in
the Grace and Harmony of the Actor's Utterance. For the Actor himself is
not accountable for the false Poetry of his Author; That the Hearer is
to judge of; if it passes upon him, the Actor can have no Quarrel to it;
who, if the Periods given him are round, smooth, spirited, and
high-sounding, even in a false Passion, must throw out the same Fire and
Grace as may be required in one justly rising from Nature; where those
his Excellencies will then be only more pleasing in proportion to the
Taste of his Hearer. And I am of opinion that to the extraordinary
Success of this very Play we may impute the Corruption of so many Actors
and Tragick Writers, as were immediately misled by it. The unskilful
Actor who imagin'd all the Merit of delivering those blazing Rants lay
only in the Strength and strain'd Exertion of the Voice, began to tear
his Lungs upon every false or slight Occasion to arrive at the same
Applause. And it is from hence I date our having seen the same Reason
prevalent for above fifty Years. Thus equally mis-guided, too, many a
barren-brain'd Author has stream'd into a frothy flowing Style,
pompously rolling into sounding Periods signifying----roundly nothing;
of which Number, in some of my former Labours, I am something more than
suspicious that I may myself have made one. But to keep a little closer
to _Betterton_.
When this favourite Play I am speaking of, from its being too frequently
acted, was worn out, and came to be deserted by the Town, upon the
sudden Death of _Monfort_, who had play'd _Alexander_ with Success for
several Years, the Part was given to _Betterton_, which, under this
great Disadvantage of the Satiety it had given, he immediately reviv'd
with so new a Lustre that for three Days together it fill'd the
House;[112] and had his then declining Strength been equal to the
Fatigue the Action gave him, it probably might have doubled its Success;
an uncommon Instance of the Power and intrinsick Merit of an Actor. This
I mention not only to prove what irresistable Pleasure may arise from a
judicious Elocution, with scarce Sense to assist it; but to shew you
too, that tho' _Betterton_ never wanted Fire and Force when his
Character demanded it; yet, where it was not demanded, he never
prostituted his Power to the low Ambition of a false Applause. And
further, that when, from a too advanced Age, he resigned that toilsome
Part of _Alexander_, the Play for many Years after never was able to
impose upon the Publick;[113] and I look upon his so particularly
supporting the false Fire and Extravagancies of that Character to be a
more surprizing Proof of his Skill than his being eminent in those of
_Shakespear_; because there, Truth and Nature coming to his Assistance,
he had not the same Difficulties to combat, and consequently we must be
less amaz'd at his Success where we are more able to account for it.
Notwithstanding the extraordinary Power he shew'd in blowing _Alexander_
once more into a blaze of Admiration, _Betterton_ had so just a sense of
what was true or false Applause, that I have heard him say, he never
thought any kind of it equal to an attentive Silence; that there were
many ways of deceiving an Audience into a loud one; but to keep them
husht and quiet was an Applause which only Truth and Merit could arrive
at: Of which Art there never was an equal Master to himself. From these
various Excellencies, he had so full a Possession of the Esteem and
Regard of his Auditors, that upon his Entrance into every Scene he
seem'd to seize upon the Eyes and Ears of the Giddy and Inadvertent! To
have talk'd or look'd another way would then have been thought
Insensibility or Ignorance.[114] In all his Soliloquies of moment, the
strong Intelligence of his Attitude and Aspect drew you into such an
impatient Gaze and eager Expectation, that you almost imbib'd the
Sentiment with your Eye before the Ear could reach it.
As _Betterton_ is the Centre to which all my Observations upon Action
tend, you will give me leave, under his Character, to enlarge upon that
Head. In the just Delivery of Poetical Numbers, particularly where the
Sentiments are pathetick, it is scarce credible upon how minute an
Article of Sound depends their greatest Beauty or Inaffection. The Voice
of a Singer is not more strictly ty'd to Time and Tune, than that of an
Actor in Theatrical Elocution:[115] The least Syllable too long or too
slightly dwelt upon in a Period depreciates it to nothing; which very
Syllable if rightly touch'd shall, like the heightening Stroke of Light
from a Master's Pencil, give Life and Spirit to the whole. I never
heard a Line in Tragedy come from _Betterton_ wherein my Judgment, my
Ear, and my Imagination were not fully satisfy'd; which, since his Time,
I cannot equally say of any one Actor whatsoever: Not but it is possible
to be much his Inferior, with great Excellencies; which I shall observe
in another Place. Had it been practicable to have ty'd down the
clattering Hands of all the ill judges who were commonly the Majority of
an Audience, to what amazing Perfection might the _English_ Theatre have
arrived with so just an Actor as _Betterton_ at the Head of it! If what
was Truth only could have been applauded, how many noisy Actors had
shook their Plumes with shame, who, from the injudicious Approbation of
the Multitude, have bawl'd and strutted in the place of Merit? If
therefore the bare speaking Voice has such Allurements in it, how much
less ought we to wonder, however we may lament, that the sweeter Notes
of Vocal Musick should so have captivated even the politer World into
an Apostacy from Sense to an Idolatry of Sound. Let us enquire from
whence this Enchantment rises. I am afraid it may be too naturally
accounted for: For when we complain that the finest Musick, purchas'd at
such vast Expence, is so often thrown away upon the most miserable
Poetry, we seem not to consider, that when the Movement of the Air and
Tone of the Voice are exquisitely harmonious, tho' we regard not one
_Word_ of what we hear, yet the Power of the Melody is so busy in the
Heart, that we naturally annex Ideas to it of our own Creation, and, in
some sort, become our selves the Poet to the Composer; and what Poet is
so dull as not to be charm'd with the Child of his own Fancy? So that
there is even a kind of Language in agreeable Sounds, which, like the
Aspect of Beauty, without Words speaks and plays with the Imagination.
While this Taste therefore is so naturally prevalent, I doubt to propose
Remedies for it were but giving Laws to the Winds or Advice to
Inamorato's: And however gravely we may assert that Profit ought always
to be inseparable from the Delight of the Theatre; nay, admitting that
the Pleasure would be heighten'd by the uniting them; yet, while
Instruction is so little the Concern of the Auditor, how can we hope
that so choice a Commodity will come to a Market where there is so
seldom a Demand for it?
It is not to the Actor, therefore, but to the vitiated and low Taste of
the Spectator, that the Corruptions of the Stage (of what kind soever)
have been owing. If the Publick, by whom they must live, had Spirit
enough to discountenance and declare against all the Trash and Fopperies
they have been so frequently fond of, both the Actors and the Authors,
to the best of their Power, must naturally have serv'd their daily Table
with sound and wholesome Diet.[116]----But I have not yet done with my
Article of Elocution.
As we have sometimes great Composers of Musick who cannot sing, we have
as frequently great Writers that cannot read; and though without the
nicest Ear no Man can be Master of Poetical Numbers, yet the best Ear in
the World will not always enable him to pronounce them. Of this Truth
_Dryden_, our first great Master of Verse and Harmony, was a strong
Instance: When he brought his Play of _Amphytrion_ to the Stage,[117] I
heard him give it his first Reading to the Actors, in which, though it
is true he deliver'd the plain Sense of every Period, yet the whole was
in so cold, so flat, and unaffecting a manner, that I am afraid of not
being believ'd when I affirm it.
On the contrary, _Lee_, far his inferior in Poetry, was so pathetick a
Reader of his own Scenes, that I have been inform'd by an Actor who was
present, that while _Lee_ was reading to Major _Mohun_ at a Rehearsal,
_Mohun_, in the Warmth of his Admiration, threw down his Part and said,
Unless I were able to _play_ it as well as you _read_ it, to what
purpose should I undertake it? And yet this very Author, whose Elocution
rais'd such Admiration in so capital an Actor, when he attempted to be
an Actor himself, soon quitted the Stage in an honest Despair of ever
making any profitable Figure there.[118] From all this I would infer,
That let our Conception of what we are to speak be ever so just, and the
Ear ever so true, yet, when we are to deliver it to an Audience (I will
leave Fear out of the question) there must go along with the whole a
natural Freedom and becoming Grace, which is easier to conceive than to
describe: For without this inexpressible Somewhat the Performance will
come out oddly disguis'd, or somewhere defectively unsurprizing to the
Hearer. Of this Defect, too, I will give you yet a stranger Instance,
which you will allow Fear could not be the Occasion of: If you remember
_Estcourt_,[119] you must have known that he was long enough upon the
Stage not to be under the least Restraint from Fear in his Performance:
This Man was so amazing and extraordinary a Mimick, that no Man or
Woman, from the Coquette to the Privy-Counsellor, ever mov'd or spoke
before him, but he could carry their Voice, Look, Mien, and Motion,
instantly into another Company: I have heard him make long Harangues and
form various Arguments, even in the manner of thinking of an eminent
Pleader at the Bar,[120] with every the least Article and Singularity of
his Utterance so perfectly imitated, that he was the very _alter ipse_,
scarce to be distinguish'd from his Original. Yet more; I have seen upon
the Margin of the written Part of _Falstaff_ which he acted, his own
Notes and Observations upon almost every Speech of it, describing the
true Spirit of the Humour, and with what Tone of Voice, Look, and
Gesture, each of them ought to be delivered. Yet in his Execution upon
the Stage he seem'd to have lost all those just Ideas he had form'd of
it, and almost thro' the Character labour'd under a heavy Load of
Flatness: In a word, with all his Skill in Mimickry and Knowledge of
what ought to be done, he never upon the Stage could bring it truly into
Practice, but was upon the whole a languid, unaffecting Actor.[121]
After I have shewn you so many necessary Qualifications, not one of
which can be spar'd in true Theatrical Elocution, and have at the same
time prov'd that with the Assistance of them all united, the whole may
still come forth defective; what Talents shall we say will infallibly
form an Actor? This I confess is one of Nature's Secrets, too deep for
me to dive into; let us content our selves therefore with affirming,
That _Genius_, which Nature only gives, only can complete him. This
_Genius_ then was so strong in _Betterton_, that it shone out in every
Speech and Motion of him. Yet Voice and Person are such necessary
Supports to it, that by the Multitude they have been preferr'd to
_Genius_ itself, or at least often mistaken for it. _Betterton_ had a
Voice of that kind which gave more Spirit to Terror than to the softer
Passions; of more Strength than Melody.[122] The Rage and Jealousy of
_Othello_ became him better than the Sighs and Tenderness of
_Castalio_:[123] For though in _Castalio_ he only excell'd others, in
_Othello_ he excell'd himself; which you will easily believe when you
consider that, in spite of his Complexion, _Othello_ has more natural
Beauties than the best Actor can find in all the Magazine of Poetry to
animate his Power and delight his Judgment with.
The Person of this excellent Actor was suitable to his Voice, more manly
than sweet, not exceeding the middle Stature, inclining to the
corpulent; of a serious and penetrating Aspect; his Limbs nearer the
athletick than the delicate Proportion; yet however form'd, there arose
from the Harmony of the whole a commanding Mien of Majesty, which the
fairer-fac'd or (as _Shakespear_ calls 'em) the _curled_ Darlings of his
Time ever wanted something to be equal Masters of. There was some Years
ago to be had, almost in every Print-shop, a _Metzotinto_ from
_Kneller_, extremely like him.[124]
In all I have said of _Betterton_, I confine myself to the Time of his
Strength and highest Power in Action, that you may make Allowances from
what he was able to execute at Fifty, to what you might have seen of him
at past Seventy; for tho' to the last he was without his Equal, he might
not then be equal to his former Self; yet so far was he from being ever
overtaken, that for many Years after his Decease I seldom saw any of his
Parts in _Shakespear_ supply'd by others, but it drew from me the
Lamentation of _Ophelia_ upon _Hamlet_'s being unlike what she had seen
him.
----_Ah! woe is me!
T'have seen what I have seen, see what I see!_
The last Part this great Master of his Profession acted was _Melantius_
in the _Maid's Tragedy_, for his own Benefit;[125] when being suddenly
seiz'd by the Gout, he submitted, by extraordinary Applications, to
have his Foot so far reliev'd that he might be able to walk on the Stage
in a Slipper, rather than wholly disappoint his Auditors. He was
observ'd that Day to have exerted a more than ordinary Spirit, and met
with suitable Applause; but the unhappy Consequence of tampering with
his Distemper was, that it flew into his Head, and kill'd him in three
Days, (I think) in the seventy-fourth Year of his Age.[126]
I once thought to have fill'd up my Work with a select Dissertation upon
Theatrical Action,[127] but I find, by the Digressions I have been
tempted to make in this Account of _Betterton_, that all I can say upon
that Head will naturally fall in, and possibly be less tedious if
dispers'd among the various Characters of the particular Actors I have
promis'd to treat of; I shall therefore make use of those several
Vehicles, which you will find waiting in the next Chapter, to carry you
thro' the rest of the Journey at your Leisure.