[Illustration: Ad Lalauze, sc]
_The State of the Stage continued. The Occasion of Wilks's
commencing Actor. His Success. Facts relating to his
Theatrical Talent. Actors more or less esteem'd from their
private Characters._
The _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_ Company were now, in 1693,[250] a
Common-wealth, like that of _Holland_, divided from the Tyranny of
_Spain_: But the Similitude goes very little farther; short was the
Duration of the Theatrical Power! for tho' Success pour'd in so fast upon
them at their first Opening that every thing seem'd to support it self,
yet Experience in a Year or two shew'd them that they had never been worse
govern'd than when they govern'd themselves! Many of them began to make
their particular Interest more their Point than that of the general: and
tho' some Deference might be had to the Measures and Advice of
_Betterton_, several of them wanted to govern in their Turn, and were
often out of Humour that their Opinion was not equally regarded--But have
we not seen the same Infirmity in Senates? The Tragedians seem'd to think
their Rank as much above the Comedians as in the Characters they severally
acted; when the first were in their Finery, the latter were impatient at
the Expence, and look'd upon it as rather laid out upon the real than the
fictitious Person of the Actor; nay, I have known in our own Company this
ridiculous sort of Regret carried so far, that the Tragedian has thought
himself injured when the _Comedian_ pretended to wear a fine Coat! I
remember _Powel_, upon surveying my first Dress in the _Relapse_, was out
of all temper, and reproach'd our Master in very rude Terms that he had
not so good a Suit to play _Cæsar Borgia_[251] in! tho' he knew, at the
same time, my Lord _Foppington_ fill'd the House, when his bouncing
_Borgia_ would do little more than pay Fiddles and Candles to it: And
though a Character of Vanity might be supposed more expensive in Dress
than possibly one of Ambition, yet the high Heart of this heroical Actor
could not bear that a Comedian should ever pretend to be as well dress'd
as himself. Thus again, on the contrary, when _Betterton_ proposed to set
off a Tragedy, the Comedians were sure to murmur at the Charge of it: And
the late Reputation which _Dogget_ had acquired from acting his _Ben_ in
_Love_ for _Love_, made him a more declared Male-content on such
Occasions; he over-valued Comedy for its being nearer to Nature than
Tragedy, which is allow'd to say many fine things that Nature never spoke
in the same Words; and supposing his Opinion were just, yet he should have
consider'd that the Publick had a Taste as well as himself, which in
Policy he ought to have complied with. _Dogget_, however, could not with
Patience look upon the costly Trains and Plumes of Tragedy, in which
knowing himself to be useless, he thought were all a vain Extravagance:
And when he found his Singularity could no longer oppose that Expence, he
so obstinately adhered to his own Opinion, that he left the Society of his
old Friends, and came over to us at the _Theatre-Royal_: And yet this
Actor always set up for a Theatrical Patriot. This happened in the Winter
following the first Division of the (only) Company.[252] He came time
enough to the _Theatre-Royal_ to act the Part of _Lory_ in the _Relapse_,
an arch Valet, quite after the _French_ cast, pert and familiar. But it
suited so ill with _Dogget_'s dry and closely-natural Manner of acting,
that upon the second Day he desired it might be disposed of to another;
which the Author complying with, gave it to _Penkethman_, who, tho' in
other Lights much his Inferior, yet this Part he seem'd better to become.
_Dogget_ was so immovable in his Opinion of whatever he thought was right
or wrong, that he could never be easy under any kind of Theatrical
Government, and was generally so warm in pursuit of his Interest that he
often out-ran it; I remember him three times, for some Years, unemploy'd
in any Theatre, from his not being able to bear, in common with others,
the disagreeable Accidents that in such Societies are unavoidable.[253]
But whatever Pretences he had form'd for this first deserting from
_Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_, I always thought his best Reason for it was, that
he look'd upon it as a sinking Ship; not only from the melancholy
Abatement of their Profits, but likewise from the Neglect and Disorder in
their Government: He plainly saw that their extraordinary Success at first
had made them too confident of its Duration, and from thence had slacken'd
their Industry--by which he observ'd, at the same time, the old House,
where there was scarce any other Merit than Industry, began to flourish.
And indeed they seem'd not enough to consider that the Appetite of the
Publick, like that of a fine Gentleman, could only be kept warm by
Variety; that let their Merit be never so high, yet the Taste of a Town
was not always constant, nor infallible: That it was dangerous to hold
their Rivals in too much Contempt;[254] for they found that a young
industrious Company were soon a Match for the best Actors when too
securely negligent: And negligent they certainly were, and fondly fancied
that had each of their different Schemes been follow'd, their Audiences
would not so suddenly have fallen off.[255]
But alas! the Vanity of applauded Actors, when they are not crowded to
as they may have been, makes them naturally impute the Change to any
Cause rather than the true one, Satiety: They are mighty loath to think
a Town, once so fond of them, could ever be tired; and yet, at one time
or other, more or less thin Houses have been the certain Fate of the
most prosperous Actors ever since I remember the Stage! But against this
Evil the provident Patentees had found out a Relief which the new House
were not yet Masters of, _viz._ Never to pay their People when the Money
did not come in; nor then neither, but in such Proportions as suited
their Conveniency. I my self was one of the many who for six acting
Weeks together never received one Day's Pay; and for some Years after
seldom had above half our nominal Sallaries: But to the best of my
Memory, the Finances of the other House held it not above one Season
more, before they were reduced to the same Expedient of making the like
scanty Payments.[256]
Such was the Distress and Fortune of both these Companies since their
Division from the _Theatre-Royal_; either working at half Wages, or by
alternate Successes intercepting the Bread from one another's
Mouths;[257] irreconcilable Enemies, yet without Hope of Relief from a
Victory on either Side; sometimes both Parties reduced, and yet each
supporting their Spirits by seeing the other under the same Calamity.
During this State of the Stage it was that the lowest Expedient was made
use of to ingratiate our Company in the Publick Favour: Our Master, who
had sometime practised the Law,[258] and therefore loved a Storm better
than fair Weather (for it was his own Conduct chiefly that had brought
the Patent into these Dangers) took nothing so much to Heart as that
Partiality wherewith he imagined the People of Quality had preferr'd the
Actors of the other House to those of his own: To ballance this
Misfortune, he was resolv'd, at least, to be well with their Domesticks,
and therefore cunningly open'd the upper Gallery to them _gratis_: For
before this time no Footman was ever admitted, or had presum'd to come
into it, till after the fourth Act was ended: This additional Privilege
(the greatest Plague that ever Play-house had to complain of) he
conceived would not only incline them to give us a good Word in the
respective Families they belong'd to, but would naturally incite them to
come all Hands aloft in the Crack of our Applauses: And indeed it so
far succeeded, that it often thunder'd from the full Gallery above,
while our thin Pit and Boxes below were in the utmost Serenity. This
riotous Privilege, so craftily given, and which from Custom was at last
ripen'd into Right, became the most disgraceful Nusance that ever
depreciated the Theatre.[259] How often have the most polite Audiences,
in the most affecting Scenes of the best Plays, been disturb'd and
insulted by the Noise and Clamour of these savage Spectators? From the
same narrow way of thinking, too, were so many ordinary People and
unlick'd Cubs of Condition admitted behind our Scenes for Money, and
sometimes without it: The Plagues and Inconveniences of which Custom we
found so intolerable, when we afterwards had the Stage in our Hands,
that at the Hazard of our Lives we were forced to get rid of them; and
our only Expedient was by refusing Money from all Persons without
Distinction at the Stage-Door; by this means we preserved to ourselves
the Right and Liberty of chusing our own Company there: And by a strict
Observance of this Order we brought what had been before debas'd into
all the Licenses of a Lobby into the Decencies of a Drawing-Room.[260]
About the distressful Time I was speaking of, in the Year 1696,[261]
_Wilks_, who now had been five Years in great Esteem on the _Dublin_
Theatre, return'd to that of _Drury-Lane_; in which last he had first
set out, and had continued to act some small Parts for one Winter only.
The considerable Figure which he so lately made upon the Stage in
_London_, makes me imagine that a particular Account of his first
commencing Actor may not be unacceptable to the Curious; I shall,
therefore, give it them as I had it from his own Mouth.
In King _James_'s Reign he had been some time employ'd in the
Secretary's Office in _Ireland_ (his native Country) and remain'd in it
till after the Battle of the _Boyn_, which completed the Revolution.
Upon that happy and unexpected Deliverance, the People of _Dublin_,
among the various Expressions of their Joy, had a mind to have a Play;
but the Actors being dispersed during the War, some private Persons
agreed in the best Manner they were able to give one to the Publick
_gratis_ at the _Theatre_. The Play was _Othello_, in which _Wilks_
acted the _Moor_; and the Applause he received in it warm'd him to so
strong an Inclination for the Stage, that he immediately prefer'd it to
all his other Views in Life: for he quitted his Post, and with the first
fair Occasion came over to try his Fortune in the (then only) Company of
Actors in _London_. The Person who supply'd his Post in _Dublin_, he
told me, raised to himself from thence a Fortune of fifty thousand
Pounds. Here you have a much stronger Instance of an extravagant Passion
for the Stage than that which I have elsewhere shewn in my self; I only
quitted my _Hopes_ of being preferr'd to the like Post for it; but
_Wilks_ quitted his actual _Possession_ for the imaginary Happiness
which the Life of an Actor presented to him. And, though possibly we
might both have better'd our Fortunes in a more honourable Station, yet
whether better Fortunes might have equally gratify'd our Vanity (the
universal Passion of Mankind) may admit of a Question.
Upon his being formerly received into the _Theatre-Royal_ (which was in
the Winter after I had been initiated) his Station there was much upon
the same Class with my own; our Parts were generally of an equal
Insignificancy, not of consequence enough to give either a Preference:
But _Wilks_ being more impatient of his low Condition than I was, (and,
indeed, the Company was then so well stock'd with good Actors that there
was very little hope of getting forward) laid hold of a more expeditious
way for his Advancement, and returned agen to _Dublin_ with Mr.
_Ashbury_, the Patentee of that Theatre, to act in his new Company
there: There went with him at the same time Mrs. _Butler_, whose
Character I have already given, and _Estcourt_, who had not appeared on
any Stage, and was yet only known as an excellent Mimick: _Wilks_ having
no Competitor in _Dublin_, was immediately preferr'd to whatever parts
his Inclination led him, and his early Reputation on that Stage as soon
raised in him an Ambition to shew himself on a better. And I have heard
him say (in Raillery of the Vanity which young Actors are liable to)
that when the News of _Monfort_'s Death came to _Ireland_, he from that
time thought his Fortune was made, and took a Resolution to return a
second time to _England_ with the first Opportunity; but as his
Engagements to the Stage where he was were too strong to be suddenly
broke from, he return'd not to the _Theatre-Royal_ 'till the Year
1696.[262]
Upon his first Arrival, _Powel_, who was now in Possession of all the
chief Parts of _Monfort_, and the only Actor that stood in _Wilks_'s
way, in seeming Civility offer'd him his choice of whatever he thought
fit to make his first Appearance in; though, in reality, the Favour was
intended to hurt him. But _Wilks_ rightly judg'd it more modest to
accept only of a Part of _Powel_'s, and which _Monfort_ had never acted,
that of _Palamede_ in _Dryden's Marriage Alamode_. Here, too, he had the
Advantage of having the Ball play'd into his Hand by the inimitable Mrs.
_Monfort_, who was then his _Melantha_ in the same Play: Whatever Fame
_Wilks_ had brought with him from _Ireland_, he as yet appear'd but a
very raw Actor to what he was afterwards allow'd to be: His Faults,
however, I shall rather leave to the Judgments of those who then may
remember him, than to take upon me the disagreeable Office of being
particular upon them, farther than by saying, that in this Part of
_Palamede_ he was short of _Powel_, and miss'd a good deal of the loose
Humour of the Character, which the other more happily hit.[263] But
however he was young, erect, of a pleasing Aspect, and, in the whole,
gave the Town and the Stage sufficient Hopes of him. I ought to make
some Allowances, too, for the Restraint he must naturally have been
under from his first Appearance upon a new Stage. But from that he soon
recovered, and grew daily more in Favour, not only of the Town, but
likewise of the Patentee, whom _Powel_, before _Wilks_'s Arrival, had
treated in almost what manner he pleas'd.
Upon this visible Success of _Wilks_, the pretended Contempt which
_Powel_ had held him in began to sour into an open Jealousy; he now
plainly saw he was a formidable Rival, and (which more hurt him) saw,
too, that other People saw it; and therefore found it high time to
oppose and be troublesome to him. But _Wilks_ happening to be as jealous
of his Fame as the other, you may imagine such clashing Candidates
could not be long without a Rupture: In short, a Challenge, I very well
remember, came from _Powel_, when he was hot-headed; but the next
Morning he was cool enough to let it end in favour of _Wilks_. Yet
however the Magnanimity on either Part might subside, the Animosity was
as deep in the Heart as ever, tho' it was not afterwards so openly
avow'd: For when _Powel_ found that intimidating would not carry his
Point; but that _Wilks_, when provok'd, would really give Battle,[264]
he (_Powel_) grew so out of Humour that he cock'd his Hat, and in his
Passion walk'd off to the Service of the Company in _Lincoln's-Inn
Fields_. But there finding more Competitors, and that he made a worse
Figure among them than in the Company he came from, he stay'd but one
Winter with them[265] before he return'd to his old Quarters in
_Drury-Lane_; where, after these unsuccessful Pushes of his Ambition, he
at last became a Martyr to Negligence, and quietly submitted to the
Advantages and Superiority which (during his late Desertion) _Wilks_ had
more easily got over him.
[Illustration: WILLIAM PENKETHMAN.]
However trifling these Theatrical Anecdotes may seem to a sensible
Reader, yet, as the different Conduct of these rival Actors may be of
use to others of the same Profession, and from thence may contribute to
the Pleasure of the Publick, let that be my Excuse for pursuing them. I
must therefore let it be known that, though in Voice and Ear Nature had
been more kind to _Powel_, yet he so often lost the Value of them by an
unheedful Confidence, that the constant wakeful Care and Decency of
_Wilks_ left the other far behind in the publick Esteem and Approbation.
Nor was his Memory less tenacious than that of _Wilks_; but _Powel_ put
too much Trust in it, and idly deferr'd the Studying of his Parts, as
School-boys do their Exercise, to the last Day, which commonly brings
them out proportionably defective. But _Wilks_ never lost an Hour of
precious Time, and was, in all his Parts, perfect to such an Exactitude,
that I question if in forty Years he ever five times chang'd or
misplac'd an Article in any one of them. To be Master of this uncommon
Diligence is adding to the Gift of Nature all that is in an Actor's
Power; and this Duty of Studying perfect whatever Actor is remiss in, he
will proportionably find that Nature may have been kind to him in vain,
for though _Powel_ had an Assurance that cover'd this Neglect much
better than a Man of more Modesty might have done, yet, with all his
Intrepidity, very often the Diffidence and Concern for what he was to
_say_ made him lose the Look of what he was to _be_: While, therefore,
_Powel_ presided, his idle Example made this Fault so common to others,
that I cannot but confess, in the general Infection, I had my Share of
it; nor was my too critical Excuse for it a good one, _viz._ That scarce
one Part in five that fell to my Lot was worth the Labour. But to shew
Respect to an Audience is worth the best Actor's Labour, and, his
Business consider'd, he must be a very impudent one that comes before
them with a conscious Negligence of what he is about.[266] But _Wilks_
was never known to make any of these venial Distinctions, nor, however
barren his Part might be, could bear even the Self-Reproach of favouring
his Memory: And I have been astonished to see him swallow a Volume
of Froth and Insipidity in a new Play that we were sure could not
live above three Days, tho' favour'd and recommended to the Stage by
some good person of Quality. Upon such Occasions, in Compassion to
his fruitless Toil and Labour, I have sometimes cry'd out with
_Cato----Painful Præeminence!_ So insupportable, in my Sense, was
the Task, when the bare Praise of not having been negligent was sure
to be the only Reward of it. But so indefatigable was the Diligence
of _Wilks_, that he seem'd to love it, as a good Man does Virtue, for
its own sake; of which the following Instance will give you an
extraordinary Proof.
In some new Comedy he happen'd to complain of a crabbed Speech in his
Part, which, he said, gave him more trouble to study than all the rest
of it had done; upon which he apply'd to the Author either to soften or
shorten it. The Author, that he might make the Matter quite easy to him,
fairly cut it all out. But when he got home from the Rehearsal, _Wilks_
thought it such an Indignity to his Memory that any thing should be
thought too hard for it, that he actually made himself perfect in that
Speech, though he knew it was never to be made use of. From this
singular Act of Supererogation you may judge how indefatigable the
Labour of his Memory must have been when his Profit and Honour were more
concern'd to make use of it.[267]
But besides this indispensable Quality of Diligence, _Wilks_ had the
Advantage of a sober Character in private Life, which _Powel_, not
having the least Regard to, labour'd under the unhappy Disfavour, not to
say Contempt, of the Publick, to whom his licentious Courses were no
Secret: Even when he did well that natural Prejudice pursu'd him;
neither the Heroe nor the Gentleman, the young _Ammon_[268] nor the
_Dorimant_,[269] could conceal from the conscious Spectator the True
_George Powel_. And this sort of Disesteem or Favour every Actor will
feel, and, more or less, have his Share of, as he _has_, or has _not_, a
due Regard to his private Life and Reputation. Nay, even false Reports
shall affect him, and become the Cause, or Pretence at least, of
undervaluing or treating him injuriously. Let me give a known Instance
of it, and at the same time a Justification of myself from an Imputation
that was laid upon me not many Years before I quitted the Theatre, of
which you will see the Consequence.
After the vast Success of that new Species of Dramatick Poetry, the
_Beggars Opera_,[270] The Year following I was so stupid as to attempt
something of the same Kind, upon a quite different Foundation, that of
recommending Virtue and Innocence; which I ignorantly thought might not
have a less Pretence to Favour than setting Greatness and Authority in a
contemptible, and the most vulgar Vice and Wickedness, in an amiable
Light. But behold how fondly I was mistaken! _Love in a Riddle_[271]
(for so my new-fangled Performance was called) was as vilely damn'd and
hooted at as so vain a Presumption in the idle Cause of Virtue could
deserve. Yet this is not what I complain of; I will allow my Poetry to
be as much below the other as Taste or Criticism can sink it: I will
grant likewise that the applauded Author of the _Beggars Opera_ (whom I
knew to be an honest good-natur'd Man, and who, when he had descended to
write more like one, in the Cause of Virtue, had been as unfortunate as
others of that Class;) I will grant, I say, that in his _Beggars Opera_
he had more skilfully gratify'd the Publick Taste than all the brightest
Authors that ever writ before him; and I have sometimes thought, from
the Modesty of his Motto, _Nos hæc novimus esse nihil_,[272] that
he gave them that Performance as a Satyr upon the Depravity of
their Judgment (as _Ben. Johnson_ of old was said to give his
_Bartholomew-Fair_ in Ridicule of the vulgar Taste which had disliked
his _Sejanus_[273]) and that, by artfully seducing them to be the
Champions of the Immoralities he himself detested, he should be amply
reveng'd on their former Severity and Ignorance. This were indeed a
Triumph! which even the Author of _Cato_ might have envy'd, _Cato!_ 'tis
true, succeeded, but reach'd not, by full forty Days, the Progress and
Applauses of the _Beggars Opera_. Will it, however, admit of a Question,
which of the two Compositions a good Writer would rather wish to have
been the Author of? Yet, on the other side, must we not allow that to
have taken a whole Nation, High and Low, into a general Applause, has
shown a Power in Poetry which, though often attempted in the same kind,
none but this one Author could ever yet arrive at? By what Rule, then,
are we to judge of our true National Taste? But to keep a little closer
to my Point,
The same Author the next Year had, according to the Laws of the Land,
transported his Heroe to the _West-Indies_ in a Second Part to the
_Beggars Opera_;[274] but so it happen'd, to the Surprize of the
Publick, this Second Part was forbid to come upon the Stage! Various
were the Speculations upon this act of Power: Some thought that the
Author, others that the Town, was hardly dealt with; a third sort, who
perhaps had envy'd him the Success of his first Part, affirm'd, when it
was printed, that whatever the Intention might be, the Fact was in his
Favour, that he had been a greater Gainer by Subscriptions to his Copy
than he could have been by a bare Theatrical Presentation. Whether any
Part of these Opinions were true I am not concerned to determine or
consider. But how they affected me I am going to tell you. Soon after
this Prohibition,[275] my Performance was to come upon the Stage, at a
time when many People were out of Humour at the late Disappointment,
and seem'd willing to lay hold of any Pretence of making a Reprizal.
Great Umbrage was taken that I was permitted to have the whole Town to
my self, by this absolute Forbiddance of what they had more mind to have
been entertain'd with. And, some few Days before my Bawble was acted, I
was inform'd that a strong Party would be made against it: This Report I
slighted, as not conceiving why it should be true; and when I was
afterwards told what was the pretended Provocation of this Party, I
slighted it still more, as having less Reason to suppose any Persons
could believe me capable (had I had the Power) of giving such a
Provocation. The Report, it seems, that had run against me was this:
That, to make way for the Success of my own Play, I had privately found
means, or made Interest, that the Second Part of the _Beggars Opera_
might be suppressed. What an involuntary Compliment did the Reporters of
this falshood make me? to suppose me of Consideration enough to
Influence a great Officer of State to gratify the Spleen or Envy of a
Comedian so far as to rob the Publick of an innocent Diversion (if it
were such) that none but that cunning Comedian might be suffered to give
it them.[276] This is so very gross a Supposition that it needs only
its own senseless Face to confound it; let that alone, then, be my
Defence against it. But against blind Malice and staring inhumanity
whatever is upon the Stage has no Defence! There they knew I stood
helpless and expos'd to whatever they might please to load or asperse me
with. I had not considered, poor Devil! that from the Security of a full
Pit Dunces might be Criticks, Cowards valiant, and 'Prentices Gentlemen!
Whether any such were concern'd in the Murder of my Play I am not
certain, for I never endeavour'd to discover any one of its Assassins; I
cannot afford them a milder Name, from their unmanly manner of
destroying it. Had it been heard, they might have left me nothing to say
to them: 'Tis true it faintly held up its wounded Head a second Day, and
would have spoke for Mercy, but was not suffer'd. Not even the Presence
of a Royal Heir apparent could protect it. But then I was reduced to be
serious with them; their Clamour then became an Insolence, which I
thought it my Duty by the Sacrifice of any Interest of my own to put an
end to. I therefore quitted the Actor for the Author, and, stepping
forward to the Pit, told them, _That since I found they were not
inclin'd that this Play should go forward, I gave them my Word that
after this Night it should never be acted agen: But that, in the mean
time, I hop'd they would consider in whose Presence they were, and for
that Reason at least would suspend what farther Marks of their
Displeasure they might imagine I had deserved._ At this there was a dead
Silence; and after some little Pause, a few civiliz'd Hands signify'd
their Approbation. When the Play went on, I observ'd about a Dozen
Persons of no extraordinary Appearance sullenly walk'd out of the Pit.
After which, every Scene of it, while uninterrupted, met with more
Applause than my best Hopes had expected. But it came too late: Peace to
its _Manes_! I had given my Word it should fall, and I kept it by giving
out another Play for the next Day, though I knew the Boxes were all lett
for the same again. Such, then, was the Treatment I met with: How much
of it the Errors of the Play might deserve I refer to the Judgment of
those who may have Curiosity and idle time enough to read it.[277] But
if I had no occasion to complain of the Reception it met with from its
_quieted_ Audience, sure it can be no great Vanity to impute its
Disgraces chiefly to that severe Resentment which a groundless Report of
me had inflam'd: Yet those Disgraces have left me something to boast of,
an Honour preferable even to the Applause of my Enemies: A noble Lord
came behind the Scenes, and told me, from the Box, where he was in
waiting, _That what I said to quiet the Audience was extremely well
taken there; and that I had been commended for it in a very obliging
manner_. Now, though this was the only Tumult that I have known to have
been so effectually appeas'd these fifty Years by any thing that could
be said to an Audience in the same Humour, I will not take any great
Merit to myself upon it; because when, like me, you will but humbly
submit to their doing you all the Mischief they can, they will at any
time be satisfy'd.
I have mention'd this particular Fact to inforce what I before observ'd,
That the private Character of an Actor will always more or less affect
his Publick Performance. And if I suffer'd so much from the bare
_Suspicion_ of my having been guilty of a base Action, what should not
an Actor expect that is hardy enough to think his whole private
Character of no consequence? I could offer many more, tho' less severe
Instances of the same Nature. I have seen the most tender Sentiment of
Love in Tragedy create Laughter, instead of Compassion, when it has been
applicable to the real Engagements of the Person that utter'd it. I have
known good Parts thrown up, from an humble Consciousness that something
in them might put an Audience in mind of--what was rather wish'd might
be forgotten: Those remarkable Words of _Evadne_, in the _Maid's
Tragedy--A Maidenhead_, Amintor, _at my Years_?--have sometimes been a
much stronger Jest for being a true one. But these are Reproaches which
in all Nations the Theatre must have been us'd to, unless we could
suppose Actors something more than Human Creatures, void of Faults or
Frailties. 'Tis a Misfortune at least not limited to the _English_
Stage. I have seen the better-bred Audience in _Paris_ made merry even
with a modest Expression, when it has come from the Mouth of an Actress
whose private Character it seem'd not to belong to. The Apprehension of
these kind of Fleers from the Witlings of a Pit has been carry'd so far
in our own Country, that a late valuable Actress[278] (who was conscious
her Beauty was not her greatest Merit) desired the Warmth of some Lines
might be abated when they have made her too remarkably handsome: But in
this Discretion she was alone, few others were afraid of undeserving the
finest things that could be said to them. But to consider this Matter
seriously, I cannot but think, at a Play, a sensible Auditor would
contribute all he could to his being well deceiv'd, and not suffer his
Imagination so far to wander from the well-acted Character before him,
as to gratify a frivolous Spleen by Mocks or personal Sneers on the
Performer, at the Expence of his better Entertainment. But I must now
take up _Wilks_ and _Powel_ again where I left them.
Though the Contention for Superiority between them seem'd about this
time to end in favour of the former, yet the Distress of the Patentee
(in having his Servant his Master, as _Powel_ had lately been), was not
much reliev'd by the Victory; he had only chang'd the Man, but not the
Malady: For _Wilks_, by being in Possession of so many good Parts, fell
into the common Error of most Actors, that of over-rating their Merit,
or never thinking it is so thoroughly consider'd as it ought to be,
which generally makes them proportionably troublesome to the Master, who
they might consider only pays them to profit by them. The Patentee
therefore found it as difficult to satisfy the continual Demands of
_Wilks_ as it was dangerous to refuse them; very few were made that were
not granted, and as few were granted as were not grudg'd him: Not but
our good Master was as sly a Tyrant as ever was at the Head of a
Theatre; for he gave the Actors more Liberty, and fewer Days Pay, than
any of his Predecessors: He would laugh with them over a Bottle, and
bite[279] them in their Bargains: He kept them poor, that they might not
be able to rebel; and sometimes merry, that they might not think of it:
All their Articles of Agreement had a Clause in them that he was sure to
creep out at, _viz._ Their respective Sallaries were to be paid in such
manner and proportion as others of the same Company were paid; which in
effect made them all, when he pleas'd, but limited Sharers of Loss, and
himself sole Proprietor of Profits; and this Loss or Profit they only
had such verbal Accounts of as he thought proper to give them. 'Tis
true, he would sometimes advance them Money (but not more than he knew
at most could be due to them) upon their Bonds; upon which, whenever
they were mutinous, he would threaten to sue them. This was the Net we
danc'd in for several Years: But no wonder we were Dupes, while our
Master was a Lawyer. This Grievance, however, _Wilks_ was resolv'd, for
himself at least, to remedy at any rate; and grew daily more
intractable, for every Day his Redress was delay'd. Here our Master
found himself under a Difficulty he knew not well how to get out of: For
as he was a close subtle Man, he seldom made use of a Confident in his
Schemes of Government:[280] But here the old Expedient of Delay would
stand him in no longer stead; _Wilks_ must instantly be comply'd with,
or _Powel_ come again into Power! In a word, he was push'd so home, that
he was reduc'd even to take my Opinion into his Assistance: For he knew
I was a Rival to neither of them; perhaps, too, he had fancy'd that,
from the Success of my first Play, I might know as much of the Stage,
and what made an Actor valuable, as either of them: He saw, too, that
tho' they had each of them five good Parts to my one, yet the Applause
which in my few I had met with, was given me by better Judges than as
yet had approv'd of the best they had done. They generally measured the
goodness of a Part by the Quantity or Length of it: I thought none bad
for being short that were closely-natural; nor any the better for being
long, without that valuable Quality. But in this, I doubt, as to their
Interest, they judg'd better than myself; for I have generally observ'd
that those who do a great deal not ill, have been preferr'd to those who
do but little, though never so masterly. And therefore I allow that,
while there were so few good Parts, and as few good Judges of them, it
ought to have been no Wonder to me, that as an Actor I was less valued
by the Master or the common People than either of them: All the
Advantage I had of them was, that by not being troublesome I had more of
our Master's personal Inclination than any Actor of the male Sex;[281]
and so much of it, that I was almost the only one whom at that time he
us'd to take into his Parties of Pleasure; very often _tete à tete_, and
sometimes in a _Partie quarrèe_. These then were the Qualifications,
however good or bad, to which may be imputed our Master's having made
choice of me to assist him in the Difficulty under which he now
labour'd. He was himself sometimes inclin'd to set up _Powel_ again as
a Check upon the overbearing Temper of _Wilks_: Tho' to say truth, he
lik'd neither of them, but was still under a Necessity that one of them
should preside, tho' he scarce knew which of the two Evils to chuse.
This Question, when I happen'd to be alone with him, was often debated
in our Evening Conversation; nor, indeed, did I find it an easy matter
to know which Party I ought to recommend to his Election. I knew they
were neither of them Well-wishers to me, as in common they were Enemies
to most Actors in proportion to the Merit that seem'd to be rising in
them. But as I had the Prosperity of the Stage more at Heart than any
other Consideration, I could not be long undetermined in my Opinion, and
therefore gave it to our Master at once in Favour of _Wilks_. I, with
all the Force I could muster, insisted, "That if _Powel_ were preferr'd,
the ill Example of his Negligence and abandon'd Character (whatever his
Merit on the Stage might be) would reduce our Company to Contempt and
Beggary; observing, at the same time, in how much better Order our
Affairs went forward since _Wilks_ came among us, of which I recounted
several Instances that are not so necessary to tire my Reader with. All
this, though he allow'd to be true, yet _Powel_, he said, was a better
Actor than _Wilks_ when he minded his Business (that is to say, when he
was, what he seldom was, sober). But _Powel_, it seems, had a still
greater Merit to him, which was, (as he observ'd) that when Affairs
were in his Hands, he had kept the Actors quiet, without one Day's Pay,
for six Weeks together, and it was not every body could do that; for you
see, said he, _Wilks_ will never be easy unless I give him his whole
Pay, when others have it not, and what an Injustice would that be to the
rest if I were to comply with him? How do I know but then they may be
all in a Mutiny, and _mayhap_ (that was his Expression) with _Powel_ at
the Head of 'em?" By this Specimen of our Debate, it may be judg'd under
how particular and merry a Government the Theatre then labour'd. To
conclude, this Matter ended in a Resolution to sign a new Agreement with
_Wilks_, which entitled him to his full Pay of four Pounds a Week
without any conditional Deductions. How far soever my Advice might have
contributed to our Master's settling his Affairs upon this Foot, I never
durst make the least Merit of it to _Wilks_, well knowing that his great
Heart would have taken it as a mortal Affront had I (tho' never so
distantly) hinted that his Demands had needed any Assistance but the
Justice of them. From this time, then, _Wilks_ became first Minister, or
Bustle-master-general of the Company.[282] He now seem'd to take new
Delight in keeping the Actors close to their Business, and got every
Play reviv'd with Care in which he had acted the chief Part in _Dublin_:
'Tis true, this might be done with a particular View of setting off
himself to Advantage; but if at the same time it served the Company, he
ought not to want our Commendation: Now, tho' my own Conduct neither had
the Appearance of his Merit, nor the Reward that follow'd his Industry,
I cannot help observing that it shew'd me, to the best of my Power, a
more cordial Commonwealth's Man: His first Views in serving himself made
his Service to the whole but an incidental Merit; whereas, by my
prosecuting the Means to make him easy in his Pay, unknown to him, or
without asking any Favour for my self at the same time, I gave a more
unquestionable Proof of my preferring the Publick to my Private
Interest: From the same Principle I never murmur'd at whatever little
Parts fell to my Share, and though I knew it would not recommend me to
the Favour of the common People, I often submitted to play wicked
Characters rather than they should be worse done by weaker Actors than
my self: But perhaps, in all this Patience under my Situation, I
supported my Spirits by a conscious Vanity: For I fancied I had more
Reason to value myself upon being sometimes the Confident and Companion
of our Master, than _Wilks_ had in all the more publick Favours he had
extorted from him. I imagined, too, there was sometimes as much Skill to
be shewn in a short Part, as in the most voluminous, which he generally
made choice of; that even the coxcombly Follies of a Sir _John Daw_
might as well distinguish the Capacity of an Actor, as all the dry
Enterprizes and busy Conduct of a _Truewit_.[283] Nor could I have any
Reason to repine at the Superiority he enjoy'd, when I consider'd at how
dear a Rate it was purchased, at the continual Expence of a restless
Jealousy and fretful Impatience----These were the Passions that, in
the height of his Successes, kept him lean to his last Hour, while
what I wanted in Rank or Glory was amply made up to me in Ease and
Chearfulness. But let not this Observation either lessen his Merit or
lift up my own; since our different Tempers were not in our Choice, but
equally natural to both of us. To be employ'd on the Stage was the
Delight of his Life; to be justly excused from it was the Joy of mine: I
lov'd Ease, and he Pre-eminence: In that, he might be more commendable.
Tho' he often disturb'd me, he seldom could do it without more
disordering himself:[284] In our Disputes, his Warmth could less bear
Truth than I could support manifest Injuries: He would hazard our
Undoing to gratify his Passions, tho' otherwise an honest Man; and I
rather chose to give up my Reason, or not see my Wrong, than ruin our
Community by an equal Rashness. By this opposite Conduct our Accounts at
the End of our Labours stood thus: While he lived he was the elder Man,
when he died he was not so old as I am: He never left the Stage till he
left the World: I never so well enjoy'd the World as when I left the
Stage: He died in Possession of his Wishes; and I, by having had a less
cholerick Ambition, am still tasting mine in Health and Liberty. But as
he in a great measure wore out the Organs of Life in his incessant
Labours to gratify the Publick, the Many whom he gave Pleasure to will
always owe his Memory a favourable Report--Some Facts that will vouch
for the Truth of this Account will be found in the Sequel of these
Memoirs. If I have spoke with more Freedom of his quondam Competitor
_Powel_, let my good Intentions to future Actors, in shewing what will
so much concern them to avoid, be my Excuse for it: For though _Powel_
had from Nature much more than _Wilks_; in Voice and Ear, in Elocution
in Tragedy, and Humour in Comedy, greatly the Advantage of him; yet, as
I have observ'd, from the Neglect and Abuse of those valuable Gifts, he
suffer'd _Wilks_ to be of thrice the Service to our Society. Let me give
another Instance of the Reward and Favour which, in a Theatre, Diligence
and Sobriety seldom fail of: _Mills_ the elder[285] grew into the
Friendship of _Wilks_ with not a great deal more than those useful
Qualities to recommend him: He was an honest, quiet, careful Man, of as
few Faults as Excellencies, and _Wilks_ rather chose him for his second
in many Plays, than an Actor of perhaps greater Skill that was not so
laboriously diligent. And from this constant Assiduity, _Mills_, with
making to himself a Friend in _Wilks_, was advanced to a larger Sallary
than any Man-Actor had enjoy'd during my time on the Stage.[286] I
have yet to offer a more happy Recommendation of Temperance, which a
late celebrated Actor was warn'd into by the mis-conduct of _Powel_.
About the Year that _Wilks_ return'd from _Dublin_, _Booth_, who had
commenced Actor upon that Theatre, came over to the Company in
_Lincolns-Inn-Fields_:[287] He was then but an Under-graduate of the
Buskin, and, as he told me himself, had been for some time too frank a
Lover of the Bottle; but having had the Happiness to observe into what
Contempt and Distresses _Powel_ had plung'd himself by the same Vice, he
was so struck with the Terror of his Example, that he fix'd a Resolution
(which from that time to the End of his Days he strictly observ'd) of
utterly reforming it; an uncommon Act of Philosophy in a young Man! of
which in his Fame and Fortune he afterwards enjoy'd the Reward and
Benefit. These Observations I have not merely thrown together as a
Moralist, but to prove that the briskest loose Liver or intemperate Man
(though Morality were out of the Question) can never arrive at the
necessary Excellencies of a good or useful Actor.