[Illustration: Ad Lalauze, sc]
_The Author's first Step upon the Stage. His Discouragements.
The best Actors in_ Europe _ill us'd. A Revolution in their
Favour. King_ William _grants them a Licence to act in_
Lincoln's-Inn Fields. _The Author's Distress in being thought
a worse Actor than a Poet. Reduc'd to write a Part for
himself. His Success. More Remarks upon Theatrical Action.
Some upon himself._
Having given you the State of the Theatre at my first Admission to it, I
am now drawing towards the several Revolutions it suffer'd in my own
Time. But (as you find by the setting out of my History) that I always
intended myself the Heroe of it, it may be necessary to let you know me
in my Obscurity, as well as in my higher Light, when I became one of the
Theatrical Triumvirat. The Patentees,[203] who were now Masters of this
united and only Company of Comedians, seem'd to make it a Rule that no
young Persons desirous to be Actors should be admitted into Pay under at
least half a Year's Probation, wisely knowing that how early soever they
might be approv'd of, there could be no great fear of losing them while
they had then no other Market to go to. But, alas! Pay was the least of
my Concern; the Joy and Privilege of every Day seeing Plays for nothing
I thought was a sufficient Consideration for the best of my Services. So
that it was no Pain to my Patience that I waited full three Quarters of
a Year before I was taken into a Salary of Ten Shillings _per_
Week;[204] which, with the Assistance of Food and Raiment at my
Father's House, I then thought a most plentiful Accession, and myself
the happiest of Mortals.
The first Thing that enters into the Head of a young Actor is that of
being a Heroe: In this Ambition I was soon snubb'd by the Insufficiency
of my Voice; to which might be added an uninform'd meagre Person, (tho'
then not ill made) with a dismal pale Complexion.[205] Under these
Disadvantages,[206] I had but a melancholy Prospect of ever playing a
Lover with Mrs. _Bracegirdle_, which I had flatter'd my Hopes that my
Youth might one Day have recommended me to. What was most promising in
me, then, was the Aptness of my Ear; for I was soon allow'd to speak
justly, tho' what was grave and serious did not equally become me. The
first Part, therefore, in which I appear'd with any glimpse of Success,
was the Chaplain[207] in the _Orphan_ of _Otway._ There is in this
Character (of one Scene only) a decent Pleasantry, and Sense enough to
shew an Audience whether the Actor has any himself. Here was the first
Applause I ever receiv'd, which, you may be sure, made my Heart leap
with a higher Joy than may be necessary to describe; and yet my
Transport was not then half so high as at what _Goodman_ (who had now
left the Stage) said of me the next Day in my hearing. _Goodman_ often
came to a Rehearsal for Amusement, and having sate out the _Orphan_ the
Day before, in a Conversation with some of the principal Actors enquir'd
what new young Fellow that was whom he had seen in the Chaplain? Upon
which _Monfort_ reply'd, _That's he, behind you. Goodman_ then turning
about, look'd earnestly at me, and, after some Pause, clapping me on the
Shoulder, rejoin'd, _If he does not make a good Actor, I'll be d----'d_!
The Surprize of being commended by one who had been himself so eminent
on the Stage, and in so positive a manner, was more than I could
support; in a Word, it almost took away my Breath, and (laugh, if you
please) fairly drew Tears from my Eyes! And, tho' it may be as
ridiculous as incredible to tell you what a full Vanity and Content at
that time possess'd me, I will still make it a Question whether
_Alexander_ himself, or _Charles the Twelfth_ of _Sweden,_ when at the
Head of their first victorious Armies, could feel a greater Transport in
their Bosoms than I did then in mine, when but in the Rear of this Troop
of Comedians. You see to what low Particulars I am forc'd to descend to
give you a true Resemblance of the early and lively Follies of my Mind.
Let me give you another Instance of my Discretion, more desperate than
that of preferring the Stage to any other Views of Life. One might think
that the Madness of breaking from the Advice and Care of Parents to turn
Player could not easily be exceeded: But what think you, Sir,
of----Matrimony? which, before I was Two-and-twenty, I actually
committed,[208] when I had but Twenty Pounds a Year, which my Father had
assur'd to me, and Twenty Shillings a Week from my Theatrical Labours,
to maintain, as I then thought, the happiest young Couple that ever
took a Leap in the Dark! If after this, to complete my Fortune, I
turn'd Poet too, this last Folly indeed had something a better
Excuse--Necessity: Had it never been my Lot to have come on the Stage,
'tis probable I might never have been inclin'd or reduc'd to have wrote
for it: But having once expos'd my Person there, I thought it could be
no additional Dishonour to let my Parts, whatever they were, take their
Fortune along with it.--But to return to the Progress I made as an
Actor.
Queen _Mary_ having commanded the _Double Dealer_ to be acted,
_Kynaston_ happen'd to be so ill that he could not hope to be able next
Day to perform his Part of the Lord _Touchwood_. In this Exigence, the
Author, Mr. _Congreve_, advis'd that it might be given to me, if at so
short a Warning I would undertake it.[209] The Flattery of being thus
distinguish'd by so celebrated an Author, and the Honour to act before a
Queen, you may be sure made me blind to whatever Difficulties might
attend it. I accepted the Part, and was ready in it before I slept; next
Day the Queen was present at the Play, and was receiv'd with a new
Prologue from the Author, spoken by Mrs. _Barry_, humbly acknowledging
the great Honour done to the Stage, and to his Play in particular: Two
Lines of it, which tho' I have not since read, I still remember.
_But never were in_ Rome _nor_ Athens _seen,
So fair a Circle, or so bright a Queen_.
After the Play, Mr. _Congreve_ made me the Compliment of saying, That I
had not only answer'd, but had exceeded his Expectations, and that he
would shew me he was sincere by his saying more of me to the
Masters.----He was as good as his Word, and the next Pay-day I found my
Sallary of fifteen was then advanc'd to twenty Shillings a Week. But
alas! this favourable Opinion of Mr. _Congreve_ made no farther
Impression upon the Judgment of my good Masters; it only serv'd to
heighten my own Vanity, but could not recommend me to any new Trials of
my Capacity; not a Step farther could I get 'till the Company was again
divided, when the Desertion of the best Actors left a clear Stage for
younger Champions to mount and shew their best Pretensions to Favour.
But it is now time to enter upon those Facts that immediately preceded
this remarkable Revolution of the Theatre.
You have seen how complete a Set of Actors were under the Government of
the united Patents in 1690; if their Gains were not extraordinary, what
shall we impute it to but some extraordinary ill Menagement? I was then
too young to be in their Secrets, and therefore can only observe upon
what I saw and have since thought visibly wrong.
Though the Success of the _Prophetess_[210] and _King Arthur_[211] (two
dramatic Operas, in which the Patentees had embark'd all their Hopes)
was in Appearance very great, yet their whole Receipts did not so far
balance their Expence as to keep them out of a large Debt, which it was
publickly known was about this time contracted, and which found Work for
the Court of Chancery for about twenty Years following, till one side of
the Cause grew weary. But this was not all that was wrong; every Branch
of the Theatrical Trade had been sacrific'd to the necessary fitting out
those tall Ships of Burthen that were to bring home the _Indies_. Plays
of course were neglected, Actors held cheap, and slightly dress'd, while
Singers and Dancers were better paid, and embroider'd. These Measures,
of course, created Murmurings on one side, and Ill-humour and Contempt
on the other. When it became necessary therefore to lessen the Charge, a
Resolution was taken to begin with the Sallaries of the Actors; and
what seem'd to make this Resolution more necessary at this time was the
Loss of _Nokes_, _Monfort_, and _Leigh_, who all dy'd about the same
Year:[212] No wonder then, if when these great Pillars were at once
remov'd, the Building grew weaker and the Audiences very much abated.
Now in this Distress, what more natural Remedy could be found than to
incite and encourage (tho' with some Hazard) the Industry of the
surviving Actors? But the Patentees, it seems, thought the surer way was
to bring down their Pay in proportion to the Fall of their Audiences. To
make this Project more feasible they propos'd to begin at the Head of
'em, rightly judging that if the Principals acquiesc'd, their Inferiors
would murmur in vain. To bring this about with a better Grace, they,
under Pretence of bringing younger Actors forward, order'd several of
_Betterton_'s and Mrs. _Barry_'s chief Parts to be given to young
_Powel_ and Mrs. _Bracegirdle_. In this they committed two palpable
Errors; for while the best Actors are in Health, and still on the Stage,
the Publick is always apt to be out of Humour when those of a lower
Class pretend to stand in their Places; or admitting at this time they
might have been accepted, this Project might very probably have
lessen'd, but could not possibly mend an Audience, and was a sure Loss
of that Time, in studying, which might have been better employ'd in
giving the Auditor Variety, the only Temptation to a pall'd Appetite;
and Variety is only to be given by Industry: But Industry will always be
lame when the Actor has Reason to be discontented. This the Patentees
did not consider, or pretended not to value, while they thought their
Power secure and uncontroulable: But farther their first Project did not
succeed; for tho' the giddy Head of _Powel_ accepted the Parts of
_Betterton_, Mrs. _Bracegirdle_ had a different way of thinking, and
desir'd to be excus'd from those of Mrs. _Barry_; her good Sense was not
to be misled by the insidious Favour of the Patentees; she knew the
Stage was wide enough for her Success, without entring into any such
rash and invidious Competition with Mrs. _Barry_, and therefore wholly
refus'd acting any Part that properly belong'd to her. But this
Proceeding, however, was Warning enough to make _Betterton_ be upon his
Guard, and to alarm others with Apprehensions of their own Safety, from
the Design that was laid against him: _Betterton_ upon this drew into
his Party most of the valuable Actors, who, to secure their Unity,
enter'd with him into a sort of Association to stand or fall
together.[213] All this the Patentees for some time slighted; but when
Matters drew towards a Crisis, they found it adviseable to take the
same Measures, and accordingly open'd an Association on their part; both
which were severally sign'd, as the Interest or Inclination of either
Side led them.
[Illustration: Mrs BRACEGIRDLE AS "THE INDIAN QUEEN."]
During these Contentions which the impolitick Patentees had rais'd
against themselves (not only by this I have mentioned, but by many other
Grievances which my Memory retains not) the Actors offer'd a Treaty of
Peace; but their Masters imagining no Consequence could shake the Right
of their Authority, refus'd all Terms of Accommodation. In the mean time
this Dissention was so prejudicial to their daily Affairs, that I
remember it was allow'd by both Parties that before _Christmas_ the
Patent had lost the getting of at least a thousand Pounds by it.
My having been a Witness of this unnecessary Rupture was of great use to
me when, many Years after, I came to be a Menager my self. I laid it
down as a settled Maxim, that no Company could flourish while the chief
Actors and the Undertakers were at variance. I therefore made it a
Point, while it was possible upon tolerable Terms, to keep the valuable
Actors in humour with their Station; and tho' I was as jealous of their
Encroachments as any of my Co-partners could be, I always guarded
against the least Warmth in my Expostulations with them; not but at the
same time they might see I was perhaps more determin'd in the Question
than those that gave a loose to their Resentment, and when they were
cool were as apt to recede.[214] I do not remember that ever I made a
Promise to any that I did not keep, and therefore was cautious how I
made them. This Coldness, tho' it might not please, at least left them
nothing to reproach me with; and if Temper and fair Words could prevent
a Disobligation, I was sure never to give Offence or receive it.[215]
But as I was but one of three, I could not oblige others to observe the
same Conduct. However, by this means I kept many an unreasonable
Discontent from breaking out, and both Sides found their Account in it.
How a contemptuous and overbearing manner of treating Actors had like to
have ruin'd us in our early Prosperity shall be shewn in its Place.[216]
If future Menagers should chance to think my way right, I suppose they
will follow it; if not, when they find what happen'd to the Patentees
(who chose to disagree with their People) perhaps they may think better
of it.
The Patentees then, who by their united Powers had made a Monopoly of
the Stage, and consequently presum'd they might impose what Conditions
they pleased upon their People, did not consider that they were all this
while endeavouring to enslave a Set of Actors whom the Publick (more
arbitrary than themselves) were inclined to support; nor did they
reflect that the Spectator naturally wish'd that the Actor who gave him
Delight might enjoy the Profits arising from his Labour, without regard
of what pretended Damage or Injustice might fall upon his Owners, whose
personal Merit the Publick was not so well acquainted with. From this
Consideration, then, several Persons of the highest Distinction espous'd
their Cause, and sometimes in the Circle entertain'd the King with the
State of the Theatre. At length their Grievances were laid before the
Earl of _Dorset_, then Lord Chamberlain, who took the most effectual
Method for their Relief.[217] The Learned of the Law were advised with,
and they gave their Opinion that no Patent for acting Plays, _&c._ could
tie up the Hands of a succeeding Prince from granting the like Authority
where it might be thought proper to trust it. But while this Affair was
in Agitation, Queen _Mary_ dy'd,[218] which of course occasion'd a
Cessation of all publick Diversions. In this melancholy Interim,
_Betterton_ and his Adherents had more Leisure to sollicit their
Redress; and the Patentees now finding that the Party against them was
gathering Strength, were reduced to make sure of as good a Company as
the Leavings of _Betterton_'s Interest could form; and these, you may be
sure, would not lose this Occasion of setting a Price upon their Merit
equal to their own Opinion of it, which was but just double to what they
had before. _Powel_ and _Verbruggen_, who had then but forty Shillings a
Week, were now raised each of them to four Pounds, and others in
Proportion: As for my self, I was then too insignificant to be taken
into their Councils, and consequently stood among those of little
Importance, like Cattle in a Market, to be sold to the first Bidder. But
the Patentees seeming in the greater Distress for Actors, condescended
to purchase me. Thus, without any farther Merit than that of being a
scarce Commodity, I was advanc'd to thirty Shillings a Week: Yet our
Company was so far from being full,[219] that our Commanders were forced
to beat up for Volunteers in several distant Counties; it was this
Occasion that first brought _Johnson_[220] and _Bullock_[221] to the
Service of the Theatre-Royal.
Forces being thus raised, and the War declared on both Sides,
_Betterton_ and his Chiefs had the Honour of an Audience of the _King_,
who consider'd them as the only Subjects whom he had not yet deliver'd
from arbitrary Power, and graciously dismiss'd them with an Assurance of
Relief and Support--Accordingly a select number of them were impower'd
by his Royal Licence[222] to act in a separate Theatre for themselves.
This great Point being obtain'd, many People of Quality came into a
voluntary Subscription of twenty, and some of forty Guineas a-piece,
for erecting a Theatre within the Walls of the Tennis-Court in
_Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_.[223] But as it required Time to fit it up,
it gave the Patentees more Leisure to muster their Forces, who
notwithstanding were not able to take the Field till the _Easter-Monday_
in _April_ following. Their first Attempt was a reviv'd Play call'd
_Abdelazar_, or the _Moor's Revenge_, poorly written, by Mrs. _Behn_.
The House was very full, but whether it was the Play or the Actors that
were not approved, the next Day's Audience sunk to nothing. However, we
were assured that let the Audiences be never so low, our Masters would
make good all Deficiencies, and so indeed they did, 'till towards the
End of the Season, when Dues to Ballance came too thick upon 'em. But
that I may go gradually on with my own Fortune, I must take this
Occasion to let you know, by the following Circumstance, how very low my
Capacity as an Actor was then rated: It was thought necessary at our
Opening that the Town should be address'd in a new Prologue; but to our
great Distress, among several that were offer'd, not one was judg'd fit
to be spoken. This I thought a favourable Occasion to do my self some
remarkable Service, if I should have the good Fortune to produce one
that might be accepted. The next (memorable) Day my Muse brought forth
her first Fruit that was ever made publick; how good or bad imports not;
my Prologue was accepted, and resolv'd on to be spoken. This Point being
gain'd, I began to stand upon Terms, you will say, not unreasonable;
which were, that if I might speak it my self I would expect no farther
Reward for my Labour: This was judg'd as bad as having no Prologue at
all! You may imagine how hard I thought it, that they durst not trust my
poor poetical Brat to my own Care. But since I found it was to be given
into other Hands, I insisted that two Guineas should be the Price of my
parting with it; which with a Sigh I received, and _Powel_ spoke the
Prologue: But every Line that was applauded went sorely to my Heart when
I reflected that the same Praise might have been given to my own
speaking; nor could the Success of the Author compensate the Distress of
the Actor. However, in the End, it serv'd in some sort to mend our
People's Opinion of me; and whatever the Criticks might think of it, one
of the Patentees[224] (who, it is true, knew no Difference between
_Dryden_ and _D'urfey_) said, upon the Success of it, that insooth! I
was an ingenious young Man. This sober Compliment (tho' I could have no
Reason to be vain upon it) I thought was a fair Promise to my being in
favour. But to Matters of more Moment: Now let us reconnoitre the Enemy.
After we had stolen some few Days March upon them, the Forces of
_Betterton_ came up with us in terrible Order: In about three Weeks
following, the new Theatre was open'd against us with a veteran Company
and a new Train of Artillery; or in plainer _English_, the old Actors
in _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_ began with a new Comedy of Mr. _Congreve's_,
call'd _Love_ for _Love_;[225] which ran on with such extraordinary
Success that they had seldom occasion to act any other Play 'till the
End of the Season. This valuable Play had a narrow Escape from falling
into the Hands of the Patentees; for before the Division of the Company
it had been read and accepted of at the Theatre-Royal: But while the
Articles of Agreement for it were preparing, the Rupture in the
Theatrical State was so far advanced that the Author took time to pause
before he sign'd them; when finding that all Hopes of Accommodation were
impracticable, he thought it advisable to let it take its Fortune with
those Actors for whom he had first intended the Parts.
Mr. _Congreve_ was then in such high Reputation as an Author, that
besides his Profits from this Play, they offered him a whole Share with
them, which he accepted;[226] in Consideration of which he oblig'd
himself, if his Health permitted, to give them one new Play every
Year.[227] _Dryden_, in King _Charles's_ Time, had the same Share with
the King's Company, but he bound himself to give them two Plays every
Season. This you may imagine he could not hold long, and I am apt to
think he might have serv'd them better with one in a Year, not so
hastily written. Mr. _Congreve_, whatever Impediment he met with, was
three Years before, in pursuance to his Agreement, he produced the
_Mourning Bride_;[228] and if I mistake not, the Interval had been much
the same when he gave them the _Way of the World_.[229] But it came out
the stronger for the Time it cost him, and to their better support when
they sorely wanted it: For though they went on with Success for a Year
or two, and even when their Affairs were declining stood in much higher
Estimation of the Publick than their Opponents; yet in the End both
Sides were great Sufferers by their Separation; the natural Consequence
of two Houses, which I have already mention'd in a former Chapter.
The first Error this new Colony of Actors fell into was their
inconsiderately parting with _Williams_ and Mrs. _Monfort_[230] upon a
too nice (not to say severe) Punctilio; in not allowing them to be equal
Sharers with the rest; which before they had acted one Play occasioned
their Return to the Service of the Patentees. As I have call'd this an
Error, I ought to give my Reasons for it. Though the Industry of
_Williams_ was not equal to his Capacity; for he lov'd his Bottle better
than his Business; and though Mrs. _Monfort_ was only excellent in
Comedy, yet their Merit was too great almost on any Scruples to be added
to the Enemy; and at worst, they were certainly much more above those
they would have ranked them with than they could possibly be under
those they were not admitted to be equal to. Of this Fact there is a
poetical Record in the Prologue to _Love for Love_, where the Author,
speaking of the then happy State of the Stage, observes that if, in
Paradise, when two only were there, they both fell; the Surprize was
less, if from so numerous a Body as theirs, there had been any
Deserters.
_Abate the Wonder, and the Fault forgive,
If, in our larger Family, we grieve
One falling_ Adam, _and one tempted_ Eve.[231]
These Lines alluded to the Revolt of the Persons above mention'd.
Notwithstanding the Acquisition of these two Actors, who were of more
Importance than any of those to whose Assistance they came, the Affairs
of the Patentees were still in a very creeping Condition;[232] they were
now, too late, convinced of their Error in having provok'd their People
to this Civil War of the Theatre! quite changed and dismal now was the
Prospect before them! their Houses thin, and the Town crowding into a
new one! Actors at double Sallaries, and not half the usual Audiences to
pay them! And all this brought upon them by those whom their full
Security had contemn'd, and who were now in a fair way of making their
Fortunes upon the ruined Interest of their Oppressors.
Here, tho' at this time my Fortune depended on the Success of the
Patentees, I cannot help in regard to Truth remembring the rude and
riotous Havock we made of all the late dramatic Honours of the Theatre!
all became at once the Spoil of Ignorance and Self-conceit! _Shakespear_
was defac'd and tortured in every signal Character--_Hamlet_ and
_Othello_ lost in one Hour all their good Sense, their Dignity and Fame.
_Brutus_ and _Cassius_ became noisy Blusterers, with bold unmeaning
Eyes, mistaken Sentiments, and turgid Elocution! Nothing, sure, could
more painfully regret[233] a judicious Spectator than to see, at our
first setting out, with what rude Confidence those Habits which actors
of real Merit had left behind them were worn by giddy Pretenders that so
vulgarly disgraced them! Not young Lawyers in hir'd Robes and Plumes at
a Masquerade could be less what they would seem, or more aukwardly
personate the Characters they belong'd to. If, in all these Acts of
wanton Waste, these Insults upon injur'd Nature, you observe I have not
yet charged one of them upon myself, it is not from an imaginary Vanity
that I could have avoided them; but that I was rather safe, by being too
low at that time to be admitted even to my Chance of falling into the
same eminent Errors: So that as none of those great Parts ever fell to
my Share, I could not be accountable for the Execution of them: Nor
indeed could I get one good Part of any kind 'till many Months after;
unless it were of that sort which no body else car'd for, or would
venture to expose themselves in.[234] The first unintended Favour,
therefore, of a Part of any Value, Necessity threw upon me on the
following Occasion.
As it has been always judg'd their natural Interest, where there are two
Theatres, to do one another as much Mischief as they can, you may
imagine it could not be long before this hostile Policy shew'd itself in
Action. It happen'd, upon our having Information on a _Saturday_ Morning
that the _Tuesday_ after _Hamlet_ was intended to be acted at the other
House, where it had not yet been seen, our merry menaging Actors, (for
they were now in a manner left to govern themselves) resolv'd at any
rate to steal a March upon the Enemy, and take Possession of the same
Play the Day before them: Accordingly, _Hamlet_ was given out that Night
to be Acted with us on _Monday._ The Notice of this sudden Enterprize
soon reach'd the other House, who in my Opinion too much regarded it;
for they shorten'd their first Orders, and resolv'd that _Hamlet_ should
to _Hamlet_ be opposed on the same Day; whereas, had they given notice
in their Bills that the same Play would have been acted by them the Day
after, the Town would have been in no Doubt which House they should have
reserved themselves for; ours must certainly have been empty, and
theirs, with more Honour, have been crowded: Experience, many Years
after, in like Cases, has convinced me that this would have been the
more laudable Conduct. But be that as it may; when in their _Monday_'s
Bills it was seen that _Hamlet_ was up against us, our Consternation was
terrible, to find that so hopeful a Project was frustrated. In this
Distress, _Powel_, who was our commanding Officer, and whose
enterprising Head wanted nothing but Skill to carry him through the
most desperate Attempts; for, like others of his Cast, he had murder'd
many a Hero only to get into his Cloaths. This _Powel_, I say,
immediately called a Council of War, where the Question was, Whether he
should fairly face the Enemy, or make a Retreat to some other Play of
more probable Safety? It was soon resolved that to act _Hamlet_ against
_Hamlet_ would be certainly throwing away the Play, and disgracing
themselves to little or no Audience; to conclude, _Powel_, who was vain
enough to envy _Betterton_ as his Rival, proposed to change Plays with
them, and that as they had given out the _Old Batchelor_, and had
chang'd it for _Hamlet_ against us, we should give up our _Hamlet_ and
turn the _Old Batchelor_ upon them. This Motion was agreed to, _Nemine
contradicente_; but upon Enquiry, it was found that there were not two
Persons among them who had ever acted in that Play: But that Objection,
it seems, (though all the Parts were to be study'd in six Hours) was
soon got over; _Powel_ had an Equivalent, _in petto_, that would
ballance any Deficiency on that Score, which was, that he would play the
_Old Batchelor_ himself, and mimick _Betterton_ throughout the whole
Part. This happy Thought was approv'd with Delight and Applause, as
whatever can be suppos'd to ridicule Merit generally gives joy to those
that want it: Accordingly the Bills were chang'd, and at the Bottom
inserted,
_The Part of the_ Old Batchelor _to be perform'd
in Imitation of the Original._
Printed Books of the Play were sent for in haste, and every Actor had
one to pick out of it the Part he had chosen: Thus, while they were each
of them chewing the Morsel they had most mind to, some one happening to
cast his Eye over the _Dramatis Personæ_, found that the main Matter was
still forgot, that no body had yet been thought of for the Part of
Alderman _Fondlewife_. Here we were all aground agen! nor was it to be
conceiv'd who could make the least tolerable Shift with it. This
Character had been so admirably acted by _Dogget_, that though it is
only seen in the Fourth Act, it may be no Dispraise to the Play to say
it probably ow'd the greatest Part of its Success to his Performance.
But, as the Case was now desperate, any Resource was better than none.
Somebody must swallow the bitter Pill, or the Play must die. At last it
was recollected that I had been heard to say in my wild way of talking,
what a vast mind I had to play _Nykin_, by which Name the Character was
more frequently call'd.[235] Notwithstanding they were thus distress'd
about the Disposal of this Part, most of them shook their Heads at my
being mention'd for it; yet _Powel_, who was resolv'd at all Hazards to
fall upon _Betterton_, and having no concern for what might become of
any one that serv'd his Ends or Purpose, order'd me to be sent for; and,
as he naturally lov'd to set other People wrong, honestly said before I
came, _If the Fool has a mind to blow himself up at once, let us ev'n
give him a clear Stage for it_. Accordingly the Part was put into my
Hands between Eleven and Twelve that Morning, which I durst not refuse,
because others were as much straitned in time for Study as myself. But I
had this casual Advantage of most of them; that having so constantly
observ'd _Dogget_'s Performance, I wanted but little Trouble to make me
perfect in the Words; so that when it came to my turn to rehearse, while
others read their Parts from their Books, I had put mine in my Pocket,
and went thro' the first Scene without it; and though I was more abash'd
to rehearse so remarkable a Part before the Actors (which is natural to
most young People) than to act before an Audience, yet some of the
better-natur'd encouraged me so far as to say they did not think I
should make an ill Figure in it: To conclude, the Curiosity to see
_Betterton_ mimick'd drew us a pretty good Audience, and _Powel_ (as far
as Applause is a Proof of it) was allow'd to have burlesqu'd him very
well.[236] As I have question'd the certain Value of Applause, I hope I
may venture with less Vanity to say how particular a Share I had of it
in the same Play. At my first Appearance one might have imagin'd by the
various Murmurs of the Audience, that they were in doubt whether
_Dogget_ himself were not return'd, or that they could not conceive what
strange Face it could be that so nearly resembled him; for I had laid
the Tint of forty Years more than my real Age upon my Features, and, to
the most minute placing of an Hair, was dressed exactly like him: When I
spoke, the Surprize was still greater, as if I had not only borrow'd his
Cloaths, but his Voice too. But tho' that was the least difficult Part
of him to be imitated, they seem'd to allow I had so much of him in
every other Requisite, that my Applause was, perhaps, more than
proportionable: For, whether I had done so much where so little was
expected, or that the Generosity of my Hearers were more than usually
zealous upon so unexpected an Occasion, or from what other Motive such
Favour might be pour'd upon me, I cannot say; but in plain and honest
Truth, upon my going off from the first Scene, a much better Actor might
have been proud of the Applause that followed me; after one loud
_Plaudit_ was ended and sunk into a general Whisper that seem'd still to
continue their private Approbation, it reviv'd to a second, and again to
a third, still louder than the former. If to all this I add, that
_Dogget_ himself was in the Pit at the same time, it would be too rank
Affectation if I should not confess that to see him there a Witness of
my Reception, was to me as consummate a Triumph as the Heart of Vanity
could be indulg'd with. But whatever Vanity I might set upon my self
from this unexpected Success, I found that was no Rule to other People's
Judgment of me. There were few or no Parts of the same kind to be had;
nor could they conceive, from what I had done in this, what other sort
of Characters I could be fit for. If I sollicited for any thing of a
different Nature, I was answered, _That was not in my Way_. And what
_was_ in my Way it seems was not as yet resolv'd upon. And though I
reply'd, _That I thought any thing naturally written ought to be in
every one's Way that pretended to be an Actor_; this was looked upon as
a vain, impracticable Conceit of my own. Yet it is a Conceit that, in
forty Years farther Experience, I have not yet given up; I still think
that a Painter who can draw but one sort of Object, or an Actor that
shines but in one Light, can neither of them boast of that ample Genius
which is necessary to form a thorough Master of his Art: For tho' Genius
may have a particular Inclination, yet a good History-Painter, or a good
Actor, will, without being at a loss, give you upon Demand a proper
Likeness of whatever nature produces. If he cannot do this, he is only
an Actor as the Shoemaker was allow'd a limited Judge of _Apelles_'s
Painting, but _not beyond his Last_. Now, tho' to do any one thing well
may have more Merit than we often meet with, and may be enough to
procure a Man the Name of a good Actor from the Publick; yet, in my
Opinion, it is but still the Name without the Substance. If his Talent
is in such narrow Bounds that he dares not step out of them to look upon
the Singularities of Mankind, and cannot catch them in whatever Form
they present themselves; if he is not Master of the _Quicquid agunt
homines_,[237] &c. in any Shape Human Nature is fit to be seen in; if he
cannot change himself into several distinct Persons, so as to vary his
whole Tone of Voice, his Motion, his Look and Gesture, whether in high
or lower Life, and, at the same time, keep close to those Variations
without leaving the Character they singly belong to; if his best Skill
falls short of this Capacity, what Pretence have we to call him a
complete Master of his Art? And tho' I do not insist that he ought
always to shew himself in these various Lights, yet, before we
compliment him with that Title, he ought at least, by some few Proofs,
to let us see that he has them all in his Power. If I am ask'd, who,
ever, arriv'd at this imaginary Excellence, I confess the Instances are
very few; but I will venture to name _Monfort_ as one of them, whose
Theatrical Character I have given in my last Chapter: For in his Youth
he had acted Low Humour with great Success, even down to _Tallboy_ in
the _Jovial Crew_; and when he was in great Esteem as a Tragedian, he
was, in Comedy, the most complete Gentleman that I ever saw upon the
Stage. Let me add, too, that _Betterton_, in his declining Age, was as
eminent in Sir _John Falstaff_, as in the Vigour of it, in his
_Othello_.
[Illustration: WILLIAM BULLOCK.]
While I thus measure the Value of an Actor by the Variety of Shapes he
is able to throw himself into, you may naturally suspect that I am all
this while leading my own Theatrical Character into your Favour: Why
really, to speak as an honest Man, I cannot wholly deny it: But in this
I shall endeavour to be no farther partial to myself than known Facts
will make me; from the good or bad Evidence of which your better
Judgment will condemn or acquit me. And to shew you that I will conceal
no Truth that is against me, I frankly own that had I been always left
to my own choice of Characters, I am doubtful whether I might ever have
deserv'd an equal Share of that Estimation which the Publick seem'd to
have held me in: Nor am I sure that it was not Vanity in me often to
have suspected that I was kept out of the Parts I had most mind to by
the Jealousy or Prejudice of my Cotemporaries; some Instances of which I
could give you, were they not too slight to be remember'd: In the mean
time, be pleas'd to observe how slowly, in my younger Days, my
Good-fortune came forward.
My early Success in the _Old Batchelor_, of which I have given so full
an Account, having open'd no farther way to my Advancement, was enough,
perhaps, to have made a young Fellow of more Modesty despair; but being
of a Temper not easily dishearten'd, I resolv'd to leave nothing
unattempted that might shew me in some new Rank of Distinction. Having
then no other Resource, I was at last reduc'd to write a Character for
myself; but as that was not finish'd till about a Year after, I could
not, in the Interim, procure any one Part that gave me the least
Inclination to act it; and consequently such as I got I perform'd with a
proportionable Negligence. But this Misfortune, if it were one, you are
not to wonder at; for the same Fate attended me, more or less, to the
last Days of my remaining on the Stage. What Defect in me this may have
been owing to, I have not yet had Sense enough to find out; but I soon
found out as good a thing, which was, never to be mortify'd at it:
Though I am afraid this seeming Philosophy was rather owing to my
Inclination to Pleasure than Business. But to my Point. The next Year I
produc'd the Comedy of _Love's last Shift_; yet the Difficulty of
getting it to the Stage was not easily surmounted; for, at that time, as
little was expected from me, as an Author, as had been from my
Pretensions to be an Actor. However, Mr. _Southern_, the Author of
_Oroonoko_, having had the Patience to hear me read it to him, happened
to like it so well that he immediately recommended it to the Patentees,
and it was accordingly acted in _January 1695_.[238] In this Play I gave
myself the Part of Sir _Novelty_, which was thought a good Portrait of
the Foppery then in fashion. Here, too, Mr. _Southern_, though he had
approv'd my Play, came into the common Diffidence of me as an Actor:
For, when on the first Day of it I was standing, myself, to prompt the
_Prologue_, he took me by the Hand and said, _Young Man! I pronounce thy
Play a good one; I will answer for its Success,[239] if thou dost not
spoil it by thy own Action_. Though this might be a fair _Salvo_ for his
favourable Judgment of the Play, yet, if it were his real Opinion of me
as an Actor, I had the good Fortune to deceive him: I succeeded so well
in both, that People seem'd at a loss which they should give the
Preference to.[240] But (now let me shew a little more Vanity, and my
Apology for it shall come after) the Compliment which my Lord _Dorset_
(then Lord-Chamberlain) made me upon it is, I own, what I had rather not
suppress, _viz. That it was the best First Play that any Author in his
Memory had produc'd; and that for a young Fellow to shew himself such an
Actor and such a Writer in one Day, was something extraordinary._ But as
this noble Lord has been celebrated for his Good-nature, I am contented
that as much of this Compliment should be suppos'd to exceed my Deserts
as may be imagin'd to have been heighten'd by his generous Inclination
to encourage a young Beginner. If this Excuse cannot soften the Vanity
of telling a Truth so much in my own Favour, I must lie at the Mercy of
my Reader. But there was a still higher Compliment pass'd upon me which
I may publish without Vanity, because it was not a design'd one, and
apparently came from my Enemies, _viz._ That, to their certain
Knowledge, _it was not my own_: This Report is taken notice of in my
Dedication to the Play.[241] If they spoke Truth, if they knew what
other Person it really belong'd to, I will at least allow them true to
their Trust; for above forty Years have since past, and they have not
yet reveal'd the Secret.[242]
The new Light in which the Character of Sir _Novelty_ had shewn me, one
might have thought were enough to have dissipated the Doubts of what I
might now be possibly good for. But to whatever Chance my Ill-fortune
was due; whether I had still but little Merit, or that the Menagers, if
I had any, were not competent Judges of it; or whether I was not
generally elbow'd by other Actors (which I am most inclin'd to think the
true Cause) when any fresh Parts were to be dispos'd of, not one Part of
any consequence was I preferr'd to 'till the Year following: Then,
indeed, from _Sir John Vanbrugh_'s favourable Opinion of me, I began,
with others, to have a better of myself: For he not only did me Honour
as an Author by writing his _Relapse_ as a Sequel or Second Part to
_Love's last Shift_, but as an Actor too, by preferring me to the chief
Character in his own Play, (which from Sir _Novelty_) he had ennobled by
the Style of Baron of _Foppington_. This Play (the _Relapse_) from its
new and easy Turn of Wit, had great Success, and gave me, as a Comedian,
a second Flight of Reputation along with it.[243]
As the Matter I write must be very flat or impertinent to those who have
no Taste or Concern for the Stage, and may to those who delight in it,
too, be equally tedious when I talk of no body but myself, I shall
endeavour to relieve your Patience by a Word or two more of this
Gentleman, so far as he lent his Pen to the Support of the Theatre.
Though the _Relapse_ was the first Play this agreeable Author produc'd,
yet it was not, it seems, the first he had written; for he had at that
time by him (more than) all the Scenes that were acted of the _Provok'd
Wife_; but being then doubtful whether he should ever trust them to the
Stage, he thought no more of it: But after the Success of the _Relapse_
he was more strongly importun'd than able to refuse it to the Publick.
Why the last-written Play was first acted, and for what Reason they were
given to different Stages, what follows will explain.
In his first Step into publick Life, when he was but an Ensign and had a
Heart above his Income, he happen'd somewhere at his Winter-Quarters,
upon a very slender Acquaintance with Sir _Thomas Skipwith_, to receive
a particular Obligation from him which he had not forgot at the Time I
am speaking of: When Sir _Thomas's_ Interest in the Theatrical Patent
(for he had a large Share in it, though he little concern'd himself in
the Conduct of it) was rising but very slowly, he thought that to give
it a Lift by a new Comedy, if it succeeded, might be the handsomest
Return he could make to those his former Favours; and having observ'd
that in _Love's last Shift_ most of the Actors had acquitted themselves
beyond what was expected of them, he took a sudden Hint from what he
lik'd in that Play, and in less than three Months, in the beginning of
_April_ following, brought us the _Relapse_ finish'd; but the Season
being then too far advanc'd, it was not acted 'till the succeeding
Winter. Upon the Success of the _Relapse_ the late Lord _Hallifax_, who
was a great Favourer of _Betterton_'s Company, having formerly, by way
of Family-Amusement, heard the _Provok'd Wife_ read to him in its looser
Sheets, engag'd Sir _John Vanbrugh_ to revise it and gave it to the
Theatre in _Lincolns-Inn Fields_. This was a Request not to be refus'd
to so eminent a Patron of the Muses as the Lord _Hallifax_, who was
equally a Friend and Admirer of Sir _John_ himself.[244] Nor was Sir
_Thomas Skipwith_ in the least disobliged by so reasonable a Compliance:
After which, Sir _John_ was agen at liberty to repeat his Civilities to
his Friend Sir _Thomas_, and about the same time, or not long after,
gave us the Comedy of _Æsop_, for his Inclination always led him to
serve Sir _Thomas_. Besides, our Company about this time began to be
look'd upon in another Light; the late Contempt we had lain under was
now wearing off, and from the Success of two or three new Plays, our
Actors, by being Originals in a few good Parts where they had not the
Disadvantage of Comparison against them, sometimes found new Favour in
those old Plays where others had exceeded them.[245]
Of this Good-fortune perhaps I had more than my Share from the two very
different chief Characters I had succeeded in; for I was equally
approv'd in _Æsop_ as the _Lord Foppington_, allowing the Difference to
be no less than as Wisdom in a Person deform'd may be less entertaining
to the general Taste than Folly and Foppery finely drest: For the
Character that delivers Precepts of Wisdom is, in some sort, severe upon
the Auditor by shewing him one wiser than himself. But when Folly is his
Object he applauds himself for being wiser than the Coxcomb he laughs
at: And who is not more pleas'd with an Occasion to commend than accuse
himself?
Though to write much in a little time is no Excuse for writing ill; yet
Sir _John Vanbrugh_'s Pen is not to be a little admir'd for its Spirit,
Ease, and Readiness in producing Plays so fast upon the Neck of one
another; for, notwithstanding this quick Dispatch, there is a clear and
lively Simplicity in his Wit that neither wants the Ornament of Learning
nor has the least Smell of the Lamp in it. As the Face of a fine Woman,
with only her Locks loose about her, may be then in its greatest Beauty;
such were his Productions, only adorn'd by Nature. There is something so
catching to the Ear, so easy to the Memory, in all he writ, that it has
been observ'd by all the Actors of my Time, that the Style of no Author
whatsoever gave their Memory less trouble than that of Sir _John
Vanbrugh_; which I myself, who have been charg'd with several of his
strongest Characters, can confirm by a pleasing Experience. And indeed
his Wit and Humour was so little laboured, that his most entertaining
Scenes seem'd to be no more than his common Conversation committed to
Paper. Here I confess my Judgment at a Loss, whether in this I give him
more or less than his due Praise? For may it not be more laudable to
raise an Estate (whether in Wealth or Fame) by Pains and honest Industry
than to be born to it? Yet if his Scenes really were, as to me they
always seem'd, delightful, are they not, thus expeditiously written, the
more surprising? let the Wit and Merit of them then be weigh'd by wiser
Criticks than I pretend to be: But no wonder, while his Conceptions were
so full of Life and Humour, his Muse should be sometimes too warm to
wait the slow Pace of Judgment, or to endure the Drudgery of forming a
regular Fable to them: Yet we see the _Relapse_, however imperfect in
the Conduct, by the mere Force of its agreeable Wit, ran away with the
Hearts of its Hearers; while _Love's last Shift_, which (as Mr.
_Congreve_ justly said of it) had only in it a great many things that
were _like_ Wit, that in reality were _not_ Wit: And what is still less
pardonable (as I say of it myself) has a great deal of Puerility and
frothy Stage-Language in it, yet by the mere moral Delight receiv'd from
its Fable, it has been, with the other, in a continued and equal
Possession of the Stage for more than forty Years.[246]
As I have already promis'd you to refer your Judgment of me as an Actor
rather to known Facts than my own Opinion (which I could not be sure
would keep clear of Self-Partiality) I must a little farther risque my
being tedious to be as good as my Word. I have elsewhere allow'd that
my want of a strong and full Voice soon cut short my Hopes of making any
valuable Figure in Tragedy; and I have been many Years since convinced,
that whatever Opinion I might have of my own Judgment or Capacity to
amend the palpable Errors that I saw our Tragedians most in favour
commit; yet the Auditors who would have been sensible of any such
Amendments (could I have made them) were so very few, that my best
Endeavour would have been but an unavailing Labour, or, what is yet
worse, might have appeared both to our Actors and to many Auditors the
vain Mistake of my own Self-Conceit: For so strong, so very near
indispensible, is that one Article of Voice in the forming a good
Tragedian, that an Actor may want any other Qualification whatsoever,
and yet have a better chance for Applause than he will ever have, with
all the Skill in the World, if his Voice is not equal to it. Mistake me
not; I say, for _Applause_ only--but Applause does not always stay for,
nor always follow intrinsick Merit; Applause will frequently open, like
a young Hound, upon a wrong Scent; and the Majority of Auditors, you
know, are generally compos'd of Babblers that are profuse of their
Voices before there is any thing on foot that calls for them. Not but, I
grant, to lead or mislead the Many will always stand in some Rank of a
necessary Merit; yet when I say a good Tragedian, I mean one in Opinion
of whose _real_ Merit the best Judges would agree.
Having so far given up my Pretensions to the Buskin, I ought now to
account for my having been, notwithstanding, so often seen in some
particular Characters in Tragedy, as _Iago_,[247] _Wolsey_, _Syphax_,
_Richard the Third_, &c. If in any of this kind I have succeeded,
perhaps it has been a Merit dearly purchas'd; for, from the Delight I
seem'd to take in my performing them, half my Auditors have been
persuaded that a great Share of the Wickedness of them must have been in
my own Nature: If this is true, as true I fear (I had almost said hope)
it is, I look upon it rather as a Praise than Censure of my Performance.
Aversion there is an involuntary Commendation, where we are only hated
for being like the thing we _ought_ to be like; a sort of Praise,
however, which few Actors besides my self could endure: Had it been
equal to the usual Praise given to Virtue, my Cotemporaries would have
thought themselves injur'd if I had pretended to any Share of it: So
that you see it has been as much the Dislike others had to them, as
Choice that has thrown me sometimes into these Characters. But it may be
farther observ'd, that in the Characters I have nam'd, where there is so
much close meditated Mischief, Deceit, Pride, Insolence, or Cruelty,
they cannot have the least Cast or Profer of the Amiable in them;
consequently, there can be no great Demand for that harmonious Sound, or
pleasing round Melody of Voice, which in the softer Sentiments of Love,
the Wailings of distressful Virtue, or in the Throws and Swellings of
Honour and Ambition, may be needful to recommend them to our Pity or
Admiration: So that, again, my want of that requisite Voice might less
disqualify me for the vicious than the virtuous Character. This too may
have been a more favourable Reason for my having been chosen for them--a
yet farther Consideration that inclin'd me to them was that they are
generally better written, thicker sown with sensible Reflections, and
come by so much nearer to common Life and Nature than Characters of
Admiration, as Vice is more the Practice of Mankind than Virtue: Nor
could I sometimes help smiling at those dainty Actors that were too
squeamish to swallow them! as if they were one Jot the better Men for
acting a good Man well, or another Man the worse for doing equal Justice
to a bad one! 'Tis not, sure, _what_ we act, but _how_ we act what is
allotted us, that speaks our intrinsick Value! as in real Life, the wise
Man or the Fool, be he Prince or Peasant, will in either State be
equally the Fool or the wise Man--but alas! in personated Life this is
no Rule to the Vulgar! they are apt to think all before them real, and
rate the Actor according to his borrow'd Vice or Virtue.
If then I had always too careless a Concern for false or vulgar
Applause, I ought not to complain if I have had less of it than others
of my time, or not less of it than I desired: Yet I will venture to say,
that from the common weak Appetite of false Applause, many Actors have
run into more Errors and Absurdities, than their greatest Ignorance
could otherwise have committed:[248] If this Charge is true, it will lie
chiefly upon the better Judgment of the Spectator to reform it.
But not to make too great a Merit of my avoiding this common Road to
Applause, perhaps I was vain enough to think I had more ways than one to
come at it. That, in the Variety of Characters I acted, the Chances to
win it were the stronger on my Side--That, if the Multitude were not in
a Roar to see me in _Cardinal Wolsey_, I could be sure of them in
Alderman _Fondlewife_. If they hated me in _Iago_, in Sir _Fopling_ they
took me for a fine Gentleman; if they were silent at _Syphax_, no
_Italian_ Eunuch was more applauded than when I sung in Sir _Courtly_.
If the Morals of _Æsop_ were too grave for them, Justice _Shallow_ was
as simple and as merry an old Rake as the wisest of our young ones could
wish me.[249] And though the Terror and Detestation raised by King
_Richard_ might be too severe a Delight for them, yet the more gentle
and modern Vanities of a Poet Bays, or the well-bred Vices of a Lord
_Foppington_, were not at all more than their merry Hearts or nicer
Morals could bear.
These few Instances out of fifty more I could give you, may serve to
explain what sort of Merit I at most pretended to; which was, that I
supplied with Variety whatever I might want of that particular Skill
wherein others went before me. How this Variety was executed (for by
that only is its value to be rated) you who have so often been my
Spectator are the proper Judge: If you pronounce my Performance to have
been defective, I am condemn'd by my own Evidence; if you acquit me,
these Out-lines may serve for a Sketch of my Theatrical Character.