AN APOLOGY For the LIFE of
Mr.
T. . . . . . . . . C. . . . . ,
Comedian.
BEING A Proper Sequel TO THE APOLOGY For the LIFE of
Mr.
Colley Cibber,
Comedian.
WITH An Historical View of the STAGE to the Present YEAR. Supposed to be written by HIMSELF. In the
Stile
and
Manner
of the POET LAUREAT.
—Of all the Assurances I was ever guilty of, this of writing my own Life is the most hardy; impudent is what I should have said: Through every Page there runs a Vein of Vanity and Impertinence, which no
French Ensign's Memoirs
ever came up to: My Stile unequal, pert, and frothy; low and pompous; cram'd with Epithets; strew'd with Scraps of second-hand
Latin;
aiming at Wit without hitting the Mark: My Subject below all Pens but my own, which, whenever I keep to, is flatly dawb'd by one eternal
Egotism.
COLLEY CIBBER's Life, p. 26, 27.
—Sequiturque Patrem non possibus Aequis.
LONDON:
Printed for J. MECHELL at the
King's-Arms
in
Fleet-Street.
1740. [Price Two Shillings.]
TO A
Certain Gentleman.
SIR,
B ECAUSE I know You do not love to see your Name in Print, imagining it is us'd in some impertinent Satire, though I was now writing the daintiest
Dedication
of any modern Author, yet I would chuse to conceal it.
Let me talk then just as it comes into my Head about You and to You this Way; let me tell You of what I will, or how I will, You are under no Necessity of taking it to Yourself: Nor when I boast of your Excellenc'es and Transactions, need You blush that I have perform'd them in such a Manner as to claim the complimental Homage of my Pen: Or I may now give You all the Attributes that raise a cunning, intriguing Man to the highest Offices and Employments, and no
be censur'd as one of your
hireling Advocates,
either by my own or your Enemies.—I place my own first, not because they are the greater Number, but as in the
Cer
monialia
of Heraldrv, the most insignificant Personages begin the Pomp, to introduce those of more elevated Consequence, I mention'd my Enemies first, to introduce the Mention of yours. —Yours (and such you have) for they are not so well-bred as not to declare themselves) have carried on long, though successless, Attacks against You: And,
Sir,
give me Leave to compare my little Self to your great Honour, as there is no Hazard or visible Terror in an Attack upon my defenceless Station, my Censurers, like Yours, have been Persons of an intrepid Sincerity: But I shut the Door against them all, while I am thus privately talking to You, and have little to apprehend from either of them.
Under this Shelter then, I may safely tell You that the greatest Reason I have had to publish this Wo
l
has arisen from the several Performances which I publish'd last Summer, and which you had Goodness enough to patronize: How far indeed your good Nature to a
young Politician,
or your Reluctance to put the Vanity of one of your
new Authors
out of Countenance may have carried you, I cannot be sure: And yet Appearances give me stronger Hopes. For was not the Complaisance of a whole Summer's Sufferance, to imploy my Talents in your Service, as much as an Author of more Importance ought to have expected:—Why then was he desir'd by Mr.
P—xt—n
to write second
Gazeteers?
Or, why was I kept in the Service, to tell more of the same
Stories?—
If these Employments have made me vain, shall I say,
Sir,
you are accountable for them?—No,
Sir,
I will rather say that my own Forwardness, and dashing through thick and thin, recommended me to the Notice of your Supervisor-General, for
Gazeteering
and
Pamphleteering:
Or rather so far flatter myself, as to suppose it possible, that You having been a Patron and Lover of Master
Walsingham
and Dame
Osborn
(and one of those good Judges, who know the Use and Value of such Writers, under a right Regulation) might incline You to think my Labours and Lucubrations of more Consequence than they may naturally be to others of different Sense, who may have less Concern or Taste for them. But be all this as it may, As for this
Apology
for my Life, I have written it not only to shew my own Parts, and illustrate my own Story, but I have decorated it, with several Remarks, Political, as well as Theatrical, and explain'd the Meaning of some of my Writings, which were dedicated to your Service. Now,
Sir,
as my apologetical Brat is born, rather than see it starve on bare Parish-Provision, I chuse clandestinely to drop it at your Door, that it may exercise one of your many Virtues, your Charity, in supporting a very dull Dog of an Author.
Now,
Sir,
were the World to know into what Right Honourable Hands I have thrown the following History, their Regard to its Patron might incline them to treat it as one of his own
Family.—
They might say such Things of it, as may be improper for me to mention.—For this Reason I conceal your Name, as that must necessari
y lead me to descant on a Subject which might be ungrateful to your Ears; for I am at characterising Friend or Foe, a very Devil at my Pen.—In consciousness therefore of what I
am,
I chuse not to say what You
are.—
I leave that for other Historians, and for Posterity to relate.—However, as your Equals in Rank have done publick Justice to your Character, the Concealment of your Name may be an unnecessary Diffidence. But am I, Sir, of Consequence enough, in any Guise, to do Honour to Sir—? Were I to set You, Sir, in the most true Lights that your Actions deserve, or your own Likeness requires, yet my officious Mite would be lost in that general Character and Regard which People of the first Consequence, even some of all Parties, even some of your
own Dependants,
have a Pleasure of speaking of in Private. Encomiums to Persons in your high Station, are liable to the Suspicion of
Flattery,
and can add little Lustre to what before was visible to the Publick. You are cloy'd, without Doubt, by such Offerings: You have them almost daily offer'd up to You in publick and in private; at your
L
v
e;
at the
T—y;
at the
Drawing-Room,
and
Lobby
of the
Senate-House;
besides the zealous Ejaculations which are offer'd for your Service in an inimitable Paper which is distributed throughout the Kingdom
gratis.—
But these Offerings, like
Pagaa
Incense, evaporate on the Altar, and rather gratify the
Priest
than the
Deity.
But You, Sir, are approach'd frequently and oft in Terms of
Common Sense;
The honest Oblation of Hearts which have just Sense enough to mix Reason with Accusation. How really true, or whether the Zeal of such Devotees of
Common Sense
are false, I shall not here examine: But, Sir, was I admitted, with all my laughing Spirits about me, to be my idle Self, and to write what I could write on that Subject, I should surely be distinguish'd by You from a Parcel of
dull Set of Rogues,
whom your good Nature and Charity induce You to believe are
Wits.
This Nakedness of Temper the World may place in what Rank of Vanity they please; but till Wisdom shall point out a Way to make me more heartily happy than your Favours, I am content to be gaz'd at as your Creature, as I am, without lessening my Respect for You, and laugh at those whose Intellects may be more soberly cover'd.
Yet, Sir, I will not deceive You; it is not the Lustre of the Power You possess, the immenseness of your Fortune, your Figure in Life, and the
just Rewards
for your Services, which you had rather deserve than be told of, that have made my plain honest Heart hang after You; these are but incidental Ornaments that may be of Service to You; but my particular Esteem has risen from a mere natural and more engaging Charm—The agreeable
Rewards
which You confer on your
Creatures.—
Nor is my
Vanity
so much gratify'd in the
Honour,
as my
Convenience
in the
Delight
of such pecuniary Felicities. To see You lay aside your Superiority, and conser with a
mean Author,
give him
Instructions,
and
Gold,
Vid. C. Cibber
's Dedication.
'tis then I ta
e You! then Life runs high! I desire! I possess You!
Yet, Sir, it must be a farther Share of Pleasure to look on You with the publick Eye, and view your
Intregrity.—
This, Sir, is a Theme
Si mihi sint centum Linguae, sint ora
que
centum.
Had I an hundred Tongues this Theme to raise,
Had I an hundred Mouths,—to mouth thy Praise,
Those Tongues, these Mouths, that Praise cou'd never tell
How You can
All,
and e'en
Yourself
excell;
None but YOURSELF can be your Parallel.
When I consider You in this View, and in the Height of Power, I could rejoice mightily for You and Myself, to see
You
in this particular Light of Glory, and
Myself
admitted to reflect the Beams of it throughout
Great Britain.
If this
Apology
for my
Life
discourages You not to prevent my Design, I have some Thought of writing an
Apology
for
Yours:
I think myself equal to the Subject, and should be proud if You would, by this Exercitation of my Genius, suffer me to approve myself,
SIR,
Your most obedient, most oblig'd, and most humble Servant, T. C.
July
1. 1740.
AN APOLOGY For the LIFE of Mr.
T—C—,
&c.
CHAP. I.
The Introduction.—Reason for writing an Apology.—The Author's Birth and Family.—Apromising Genius.—Sent to
Winchester School.
—An Occurrence there.—A Digression on Vanity and Ambition.—Of Systems of Philosophy,
&c.
A MONG all the Foibles incident to human Nature, none take a stronger Possession of the Soul of Man than
Ambition.
There are, indeed, sundry Ways and Arts to gratify this lofty Passion, which though it may divide itself into different Channels, yet from the same Source various Streams take their Rise.—My Readers may be surprised at my setting out with so philosophical an Apothegm; but it is a very proper Introduction to the following
Apology,
as it was from an innate Thirst of Ambition that I undertook to publish these
Memoirs
of my
own Life:
Some witty smart Gentlemen may call it
Vanity:
With all my Heart; and to deal ingenuously with them, I frankly confess it was that Species of Ambition which by hereditary Happiness descends to me, call'd Vanity.—A Vanity! for what? cries a more grave Annotator: To shew there are two Coxcombs in a Family?—Must there be two Apologies for the Lives of two Fellows no one car'd a Halfpenny for?—Why, perhaps merely to signalize myself, or perhaps to imitate the laudable Steps of my worthy Parent, or perhaps to defend my Conduct from some publick Reproaches; I have thought proper to make an Aplogy for my Life; and surely among the Majority of the World this Attempt will stand uncensur'd, as they will be ready enough to allow the Life of no Man stood more in Need of an Apology than mine. And to shew my Readers what a candid impartial Person I am, I will, in this Disquisition of myself, bring my own Heart to the Bar, and try it without Favour or Affection: I shall consequently betray much Folly, and talk much of myself, but I have very great Examples to authorize such a Liberty. Old
Mich. Montaign
it seems in his Essays tattled more about his own queer Body and Mind, his Cat, and an old Woman, than all the World beside; so much had he set his Heart upon
himself.
The ingenious and modest Mr.
Colley Cibber
has outdone
Montaign,
and not only talk'd a great deal of
himself,
but has set so great a Value on
himself,
that after being so long known, he will not let any one know what he really is, under a less Consideration than a
Guinea
Since this was wrote, the Apology is sold for
5s.
But in these Memoirs of my humble
Self,
I shall, at a cheaper Rate, take the Liberty to illustrate my Way of Thinking, Writing, and Acting, both as to my theatrical and private Life, by the Apology which he has made for his own; nor can I think the Publick will be displeas'd to see what Kind of a Parallel will be drawn between a
Father
and
Son,
who have on many Occasions so remarkably distinguished themselves.
Nam vitiis nemo sine nascitur, optimus ille
Qui minimis urgetur.
I shall therefore conclude this Introduction to my Story in his Words;
"Upon an honest Examination of my Heart, I am afraid the same Vanity which makes even homely People employ Painters to preserve a flattering Record of their Persons, has seduced me to print off this
Chiaro Oscuro
of my Mind."
—But as he hopes immediately after, that no one will expect a Man of his
hasty Head
should confine himself to any
regular Method,
I am in equal Hope that no Method, or Connexion, or Regularity will be expected from mine: I shall also make
Digressions
in my Memoirs, when I think they begin to grow too
heavy
for the Readers
Digestion
Vide C. Cibber
's Life, p. 4.
: for
Digressions
it seems are in this Kind of Writing what Eggs are in a Pudding, they
lighten
the Composition, and render it more palatable and digestive. This is my Apology, and the best Apology I can make for becoming my own
Biographer.
I come to that customa
y and important Point in all Histories of
Great Men,
their
Birth, Parentage,
and
Education.
So great a Curiosity is there in Mankind to be informed of these Particulars, that almost every revolving Moon produces illustrious Memoirs of
Heroes
and
Heroines,
whom dire Destiny has allotted to a fatal End. As these Records are to preserve their Memories from more than
Lethaean
Oblivion, every minute Circumstance of their entering into the first
Scenes
of Life are related; the Name of the Parents, their
Trade,
and
Calling,
and whether they sent them to
School,
and had them instructed in
Reading
and
Writing,
are told with great Fidelity. These Things, on mature Deliberation, may seem very trifling, and of no Signification to the World, whether they were known or not.—Very true.—But yet there is such an Avidity in human Nature for
trifling,
that these
Tyburnian
Memoirs are read by the
Great Vulgar, and the Small,
with no little Delectation. Was there no other Excuse than this Humour of Mankind, I know not how I could let my
Birth
be pass'd over in Silence; but the Excuse my Father had made before me must stand for mine, which is what my Brother
Bayes
makes Prince
Prettyman
say in the
Rehearsal,
viz. I only do it for fear I should be thought Nobody's Son at all.—
Though I cannot think I use this
Theatrical Wit
with a Force equal to that which he quoted it; for the publick having long known my Father, they have unanimously paid him a Compliment which all Fathers have not paid them,
viz.—That I am my Father's own Son.—
But whose
Son's Son
I was, guess from the following Extract, from the
Apologist
I imitate.—His Paragraph of
Lineage
runs thus:
I was born in
London,
on the 6th of
November
1671, in
Southampton Street,
facing
Southampton House.
My Father
Caius Gabriel Cibber,
was a Native of
Holstein,
who came into
England
sometime before the Restoration of King
Charles
the Second, to follow his Profession which was that of a Statuary,
&c.
The
Basso Relievo
in the Pedestal of the great Column in the City, and the two Figures of the Lunaticks, the
Raving
and the
Melancholy,
over the Gates of
Bethlehem Hospital
are no ill Monaments of his Fame as an Artist. My Mother was the Daughter of
William Colley,
Esq
of a very ancient Family of
Glaiston,
in
Rutlandshire,
where she was born. My Mother's Brother
Edward Colley,
Esq
(who gave my Christian Name) being the last Heir-male of it, the Family is now extinct. I shall only add, that in
Wright
's History of
Rutlandshire,
publish'd 1684, the
Colleys
are recorded as
Sheriffs
and
Members
of
Parliament
from the Reign of
Henry
VII. to the latter End of
Charles
I, in whose Cause chiefly Sir
Anthony Colley,
my Mother's Grandfather sunk his Estate from three thousand to about three Hundred Pounds
per Annum.
Although I am very far from laying any Stress on the Pomp of Heraldry, and a long Scroll of
Family Descents,
for well I know, my Pedigree, though traced, (as I doubt not but it might be) to
William
the
Conqueror,
will confer no intrinsic Value on me; for conscious I am, that any Regard to my Being, must be beam'd only by the Rays of Virtue; yet, in
simple Truth,
I must confess, that I think I owe something to having
good Blood in my Veins.—
For a
Latin
Poet justly says;
"Qui viret in foliis venit a Radicilus humor,
"Et Patrum in natos abeunt cum femine mores.
Which I thus venture to translate,
The Leaves their Verdure from the Roots receive,
And Souls their Children have the Parents give.
Every one who has read
Horace
knows,
Fortes creantur Fortibus,
&c.
—Still from the Valiant are the Valiant sprung.—
I need make no Application; but if
Valiant,
why not
Witty?
These Scraps of
Latin
may seem very unnecessary for
some;
they might still seem more unnecessary, had not I translated them, for
others.
However, I cannot think them in the least
Bagatelle:
They introduce very properly, the next Thing I was to mention, which was my
Education:
Nay, when I have given such a Proof of it, as to quote
Latin
and translate it, I think no farther need be given: But however, as in my
Apology
I would be like another
Apologist,
—Longo sed
PROXIMUS
Intervallo,—
I shall follow his Manner.
About the Year 1716, or 1717, I was sent by my Father to
Winchester School,
in order to be elected into
Winchester College;
for it seems, by my Father's Mother's Side, I was descended from
William
of
Wickham
the Founder.—In what Branch, I am ingenuous enough to say I know not, yet from my Soul I contemn that vile Insinuation which a
certain Counsellor,
at a
certain Trial,
made, that it was by some
collateral
Branch, as
William
of
Wickham
was a
Churchman
at a Time when
Matrimony
was not allow'd of.—The Inference is evident.—But I will be bold to say, that glittering, glaring, glistering
—Witwou'd Flash,
is as
unjust
as
unmannerly.—
It equally affects all those educated in
Winchester College
(as well as he—who was intended to be educated there;) as Descendants from the
Founder.—
But to return.—In this School I receiv'd the first and last Rudiments of Learning, as my Father did his at
Grantham
in
Lincolnshire;
but if he has more Learning than me, it is to be observed, he went from the lowest Form to the highest, and I did not proceed above half the Way: Yet this Analogy appears between us.—He says,
C. Cibber
's Life,
p.
5.
"Even there I remember I was the same inconsistent Creature I have been ever since, always in full Spirits, in some small Capacity to do Right, but in a more frequent Alacrity to do Wrong."
—Just such a Creature was, have been, and am—am I.—He gives us as the first remarkable Error of his Life,
Vid. p.
6.
jesting, and jeering, and joking on a School-fellow. I have also been thrash'd unpity'd for the same Thing; but such Circumstances, even tho' my
Father
's Pen was to relate them, may be thought damn'd ridiculous. Be it enough that I was always eager of Fame and Glory, and making an
Ecclarisement
about the Town: I lov'd to make an Appearance, and remember in some extraordinary Adventure, the taking another Boy's
lac'd Hat
to wear, occasioned me much
posterior Anxiety.
But
Vive Hodie
was my Motto.—Some immediate Satisfaction of my Passions, which were always varying, sometimes to
Dress,
sometimes to
Eating
or
Drinking, &c.
was my Desire from an
Infant;
and I am afraid some charitable Folk may say, I retain too much of the same Temper now I am a
Man.—
I very well remember, when I was a Child, I took an ambitious Liking to a
scarlet Cloak
with
Gold Trimmings,
and wept most resolutely for the same, which was the only Means I could think of for coming at my Ends; but my Mother counterplotted me, and brib'd away my Pride with a crooked Sixpence: And indeed in those Days I would have drop'd my most towering Aims for a Lump of
gilded Ginger-bread,
or a
Custard.
Sometimes a
Goosberry-Tart
would cure a furious Fit of
Ambition.—
Once, I remember, when I had thrown myself on the Ground with a Resolution to
die,
because my Father would not give me a
Horse
to ride, and manage as I thought proper, being then full five Years old; but my Mother cur'd this
Ambition
by shewing me a Pair of
new white Gloves,
and a Handful of
Cherries.
I cannot pass by without throwing out some farther Reflections on these
boyish Tricks,
"
C. Cibber
's Life,
p.
6.
whether flat or spirited, new or common, false or true, right or wrong, they will be still my own, and consequently like me; I therefore go on to shew as well the Weakness as the Strength of my Understanding."
By a
Digression,
therefore, to make this Tittle Tattle sit
light
on a Reader's
Digestion,
I draw a Moral from it.—Ambition, or Vanity, when uppermost, is bad for either Man or Child; and as it makes Children naughty, it makes Men Children.
I have often thought my childish Ambition for a
scarlet Cloak,
of the same Stamp as we often meet with in higher Life: It is the same Principle which swells the Hearts of the Great, as puff'd up mine, and if a due Regard to Nature be observed, it will be allow'd so. For Instance, If a Man of the first Quality, as the Duke of—I had almost nam'd his Title—But, I say, suppose a Man of the first Quality, who had liv'd to about his thirtieth Year, despising to be distinguish'd by any publick Gewgaw, opposing a Minister, from a Supposition of his being an evil one, should all of a sudden run bowing to that Minister's
Levee,
desert his Party, break with his Relations, and turn as great a Slave as any he despis'd—Would not any one think there must be some great Power of Reason to cause so surprising a Change? But what if it should be Ambition? Would they not think something very
august
was the Object of his Soul? But if, after all, it was only a
Red Coat,
would not his Caprice of Ambition prove as ridiculous as mine for a
Red Cloak?—
I could illustrate my other childish Appetites by more Examples, were I not afraid the Partiality might give Offence to my Court-Friends; for however like my Passions and some great Mens may, in fact, be, it is not my Interest nor Duty to make the Comparisons
—Ex 'Pede Herculom.—
However, I may observe that the Variety of my Desires
in my Childhood (for there was a Time when I was a Child)
are such as are to be observ'd daily among Mankind: I have known a young Gentleman of Fortune set out with all the
hey-day Expences
of the Mode; yet when he found himself
over-weigh'd with Appetites, he grew restless, kick'd up in the Middle of the Course, and turn'd his Back upon his Frolicks:
I have also known a very witty young Fellow become a very grave Man, and yet,
when he was in Company, and was call'd to it, could still make himself the
FIDDLE
of it.
If I were capable of Envy, this last Gentleman's Character would incline me to it; for to be wise, and at the same Time merry, is a State of Happiness in Perfection.
"
C. C
bber's
Life,
p.
12.
When I speak of Happiness, I go no higher than that which is contain'd in the World we now tread upon; and when I speak of being merry, I don't simply mean what every Oaf is capable of, but that Kind of Mirth which not is more limited than recommended by that indulgent Philosophy,
"Cum Ratione insanire."
These Sentiments of my Philosophy I have express'd in the Words of that gre
t Author whom I imitate, and of whose Sect I confess myself a Disciple: And I will here observe to the Reader, that through the whole Course of these
rhapsodical Memoirs,
I shall quote from that incomparable
Apologist
whatever may equally allude to
myself;
not only as my mean Stile cannot reach his
Daintiness
of Expression, but as this Method will the better shew what an
Analogy
there is between us.—The Readers who are candid will say,
Ju
ta positi magis lucescunt.
But as to my Philosophy; for this is making a Digression in a Digression.—I remember a merry, laughing, wit
y, compl
isant Fellow, who was always the most obsequious humble Servant of some Man of Fortune or other, compar'd himself once to a Philosopher, and the
under of a new Sect: It was honest
Gnatho
in one of
Terence
's Plays, who said all the Followers of his System should be call'd
Gnathonici.—
I know not but from my Father's Apology some new Philosophers may arise, and Posterity not give a proper Title to their Sect, therefore I here mention that all who are of our Opinion may distinguish themselves by the Name of CIBBERIANI—To be a reasonable
Madman
is what I always would be, tho' I have too often been said,
insanire sine Ratione.—
Some may say that I had better not be
mad
at all:—But as my Father charmingly says,
—Is this a Time of Day for me to leave off my
Fooleries,
and set up for a new Character? Can it be worth my while to waste my Spirits, to bake my Blood with serious Contemplations, and perhaps impair my Health in the fruitless Study of advancing myself into the better Opinion of those very—very few wise Men, who may think different from me. No; the Part I have acted in real Life shall be all of a Piece.
—Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incepto processerit—
I can no more put off my Follies than my Skin: I have try'd, but they stick too close to me; and when I have seen others, whose Rank and Fortune have laid a sort of Restraint upon their Liberty—I have softly said to myself,—Well, there is some Advantage in having neither Rank nor Fortune!—Give me the Joy I always took in the End of an old Song:
My Mind, my Mind is a Kingdom to me.
Let the World call me any Fool but an unchearful one! I live as I write; while my Way amuses
ME,
it is as well as I wish it.—The Man whose becalm'd Passions know no Motion seems to be in the quiet State of a green Tree; he vegetates 'tis true, but shall we say he lives?
O expressive Description! This is the
ratione insanire
in the very Stile; incomprehensibly sublime.—O dainty Simile! A Tree, when it is green, and vegetates, and flourishes, cannot be said, in our Philosophy, to live.—Reader take heed! for I have a strong Impulse to talk impertinently, and shew myself in all my Lights.—Here I could draw an imaginary Monarch, and dress him in all the Mockery of Greatness, with all the cumbersome Robes of Majesty, with all the Devastation of Ambition in his Thoughts, till my Imagination was heated and fatigu'd in dressing up a Phantome of Felicity;—and what then?—Why prove he was not half so happy a Fellow as myself.
Let them be Converts to the
Cibberian
Sect who will; our Founder does not impose these Laws, but follows them
himself,
and is followed by
myself.—
If we are misguided, it is Nature's Fault; We follow her, and reason good.—Nature has distinguish'd us from the Brute-Creation by our
Risibility:
Homo animal Risibile est.
Her Design was, by our
Os Sublime
(our erected Faces) to Lift up the Dignity of our Form,
God gave to Man an upright Face that he
Might view the Stars—
[Corner of an Almanack▪
From this System, we may justly stile ourselves
natural
Philosophers.
But nevertheless, without divine Assistance, be we never so wise or foolish, we cannot reach this merry Felicity: So that all my
Parade
and
Grimace
of Philosophy, has been only making a Merit of following my
own Inclination—
A very natural
Vanity!—
But this
Vanity
does not impose on me
—Vanity
again!—However think it, Reader,
Vanity
or not
Vanity,
or
this,
or
that,
or
t'other
that has drawn me into this
copious
Digression, it is now high Time to drop it.—After playing the Philosopher in this Manner, I shall now return to
School
again.—A Place where some of my
Witwou'd
Enemies may say would be very proper for me; but as I have forestall'd their Jest, none but the dullest Rogues will pretend to make it.
CHAP. II.
He that writes of himself not easily tir'd. Boys may give Men Lessons.—Wrongly satiriz'd.—On Satire.—Wrote generally for Bread.—His Thoughts and Behaviour when satiriz'd,
&c.
A S my Pen is running over the Paper to form this Sentence, I am smiling,
Sir Reader,
to think what an odly contented Coxcomb I am to set myself down to write this
Apology
for my
Life:
But you know nothing gives a Coxcomb so much Pleasure as to talk of himself, which sweet Liberty I am now enjoying—This Pleasure none but Authors as vain as myself can conceive.—But to my Story.
However little worth Notice the Actions of a
Schoolboy
may seem, yet as they act on the same Motives as Men, their Consequences are worth observing, because it is some Kind of Satisfaction to hehold in what Degree the Dawn of a Genius first appear'd. For this Reason Mr.
Colley Cibber
Vide
Apology,
p.
20.
tells you, that at School
he made an Oration on King
Charles
the
II
's Death, when all the Boys in his Form, out of Modesty, thought such a Performance above his Capacity, and was laugh'd at, and jeer'd, and ha
ed as
a pragmatical Bastard: For this Reason he acquaints you, that with the least Restraint to
Modesty,
he did what would have frighten'd a Boy of a meek Spirit from attempting.—He made an
English Ode
on King
James
's Coronation, and made it in half an Hour.—
"The very Word
Ode,
then adds he, makes you smile, and so it does me, not only because it still makes so many poor Devils turn Wits upon it, but from a more agreeable Motive; from a Reflection that for half a Century afterwards I should be call'd upon twice a Year, by my Post, to make the same Kind of Oblations."
. . . Here the Reader sees, in the
Puris Naturalibus,
that Dawn of Genius which
bashful Modesty
could never restrain from writing, and who still makes such
Odes
which all the poor
Devils
of
Wits
cannot put him out of Conceit of . . . . But to
myself . . . .
I cannot say that among my School-Fellows I made my great Figure, or raised their Envy by any learned Compositions; yet, I know not how it was, I had then an innate Kind of Propensity to Scribbling; and without any partial Flattery to myself, I can affirm I chose, or rather accidentally struck into one Species of Writing, in which I was not only then without an Equal, but have remained so ever since.
Here, perhaps, I may again seem vain! But if the Facts are true, how can I help it? If I have a tolerable Feature, will not that as much belong to my Picture as my Imperfection? In a Word, the Story is this.
While I was at
Winchester,
there came some
Prize-Fighters
from the
Bear-Garden
at
London;
and as I was always fond of
Heroes
and martial Deeds, I introduced myself into the Company of these Knight-Errants of the Blade: It happen'd that however brave the Heroes were, they were not very learned: In truth they could neither write nor read. It was on this Occasion that they desir'd me being a better Scholard, (Prizefighters Language) to pen their
Challenges,
which they instructed me to indite. . . . . . Here I gave the first Demonstration of my Parts; for having been us'd at
London
to read Playhouse Bills, and hear Tragedies, my Father being Master of a Playhouse, I wrote their Bills of
Challenge
with such Art, and express'd the Heroes Thoughts in such magnanimous Phraze, that they alarm'd the Soul of the Reader, and rouz'd up a greater Desire for a Gladiatorial Spectacle than all the Drums in
Christondom. . . . .
These Challenges of my inditing had wonderful Success; the People were amaz'd at the swelling Pompousness of the Heroes Language, and consequently imagined that those who were terribly courageous with their
Pen,
must be very
Lions
at the
Sword:
But alas! it is one Thing
Scribere,
and another
Agere:
Their Valour did not near equal the Nobleness of my Description; for the Battle they fought was a sham one. . . . . However, they returned their grateful Acknowledgments to me, and I was Author of all their Challenges, which, with much Art, I diversify'd during their whole Stay.
Well says some grave Annotator, who has not heard some private Anecdotes of my Life, what do you infer from this Tale? . . . . Hear another, and take the Inference of them both together. . . . . Some Space of Time had elaps'd since my Heroes of the Blade left
Winchester,
when a Company of Hireling Actors arriv'd. I soon made myself known to them, and was accordingly admitted to their Rehearsals: One Morning I casually took up a Paper, which was a written Bill of the Performance they were to exhibit in the Evening. I immediately found there was something deficient, or at least something that might be alter'd to raise the Expectation of the Populace, and bring a better Audience to the House: I communicated my Thoughts very freely to the Master of the Company, and shew'd such an
uncommon Genius
for writing and composing a
Play-house Bill,
that, with a complaisant Bow, he intreated me to write theirs. I comply'd with his Request, and wrote them in such a
promissory Way,
(a Way which has been since call'd
Puffing)
that they engross'd the Attention of the Town, and by an attractive Quality, brought them several good Audiences. . . . I cannot pass by one Thing; the Master of the Company, and his
Roxana,
were of an ambitious Spirit, to indulge which, I ordered their Names to be printed
six Times
as large as any of the Rest of the Performers: An Article of
Stage-Vanity,
which I have since most frequently practis'd with much Glee of Heart and Pomp-Magnificent.
Now to apply these Stories: from such small Beginnings, my Genius soar'd to an unequal Height; and I have had, for this Species of writing, no one hardy enough to become my Competitor in Fame. With a pleasant Recordation of Mind I think what Praises were bestowed on the Advertisements, and the Bills of the
Bear-Garden,
while I had, for some Years, the
Honour
of
writing
them: They were attributed to my Pen, and the most partial Witling that ever pretended to be arch upon me, would allow that in this I was inimitable. . . . I shall not mention what Degree of Excellence I have arriv'd to in
Theatrical Bills,
and
Advertisements,
and
Puffs,
and
Paragraphs:
My
Modesty
will not suffer me to give to
Posterity,
in these Memoirs, what the present Age says of them: Be it enough, that there is that
Something
in them which no one can hit but
myself.
From what I have mention'd, I would observe this; that wherever there is Merit there is a heavy Tax laid on it; Envy and Malice will demand a considerable Share of the Praise which is due to you: However great my Success has been in the Species of Writing, I have describ'd above, yet it has rais'd me many Enemies; Persons who cannot bear to see any shining Parts in another, without endeavouring, by a Cloud of intervening Darkness, to eclipse them. The little Genius that I have, and which hereditarily descends to me from a paternal Source of Wit, has often occasion'd me, in the very Spring-time of my Life, to become the But of witless Censure and Invective; and the same Reason makes me frequently the Object of Raillery in publick Coffee-houses and publick News Papers. But as the greater Poll of Mankind would rather vote for Censure than Commendation; Satire has a thousand Readers where Panegyrick has one; therefore when I see my Name, or Characteristick for my Name, in a Journal or Pamphlet, I look on it as an Artifice of the Author to get a Dinner: He considers that my Face and Name are more known than many thousands of more Consequence in the Kingdom; that therefore, right or wrong, a Lick at poor THE', or the
Young Captain,
or
Ancient Pistol,
or by what other Name soever they please, to dignify and distinguish me, will be a sure Bait
ad captandum Vulgus,
to catch little Readers, and gratify the Unlearn'd. . . . In almost these very Words the
Laureat Apologist
makes his Complaint, on being satiriz'd with his Name at length by Mr.
Pope. . . .
And I must add, that as Mr.
Pope
(for let him be as great a Satyrist as he will I am not afraid to speak out) for the Sake of the Pence, satyriz'd the inculpable Mr.
C. Cibber.
It was for that Reason, and that Reason only, that Mr.
Cibber
's Son must be mention'd in his Rhymes. . . . What else could provoke him to say,
—Shall
Cibber's Son
without Rebuke,
Outswear a Lord?—
Pope
's Imitation of
Horace.
—Well they may say what they will of the
Cibbers,
but it must be a Proof they have something very singularly exquisite in their Ways and Manners, when their very Names carry a Joke in them.—But this Detraction of these Retailers of Wit is most admirably compar'd to
Colley Cibber
's Life, p. 25.
Dung
"thrown upon a Meadow, though it may at first seem to deform the Prospect, in a little Time it will disappear of it self, and leave an involuntary Crop of Praise behind it."
To cope with such Antagonists would be ridiculous; for as the same Author wittily says,
"Would my bearing ill Language from a Chimney-sweeper do me less Harm, than it would be to box him, though I was sure to beat him."
As no Wit or Criticism can make me worse than I am, no serious Reply I can offer will make me better. I have indeed sometimes been induc'd to give publick Answers, and publick Appeals; but I think, in my own Judgment, and by experimental Knowledge, that such a Proceeding is wrong: It is more eligible to be severely strict to the Principle laid down by Mr.
Cibber sen.
which is to join in the Laugh against
myself,
and honestly say of myself all may be said against me. What he says on writing an Apology for his Life
Vide
Motto.
, is the Motto to mine; nor can I add any Thought of my own to so just and impartial a Description.—It may be said, that this being before Hand with the Wits, is all Affectation in me, and my giving myself Airs of shewing myself my Father's own Son, is too true to make a Jest of.—He quotes a Line on such an Occasion,
C. Cibber
's Life, p. 27.
Cinna
(or
Cibber) Vide
Pauper vult, & est Pauper.
"When humble
Cinna
cries,—
I'm poor and low,
"Y
u may believe him—He is really so.
I shall give the
Latin
Line a different Turn.
The
Cibbers
both themselves dull Rogues declare,
But what they say in
Jest,
in
Truth
they are.
Yet after all, what can all the Squirts and Popguns of Jest and Raillery avail against the seven-fold Shield of
Confidence
and
Contempt?
My Soul is like an ample Shield,
Can take in All, and Verge enough for more.
Who can make me more ridiculous than Nature has made me? If then, Sir
Critick,
you attack this Apology to expose me, take Care you don't expose yourself; if you write to snew your Parts, and Genius, and all that; why, you are as errant a Fool and Coxcomb as me
Ditto.
;
"But perhaps you may want Bread: If that be the Case, even go to Dinner in God's Name; whatever you intend me as a Disfavour, will fly back into your own Face, as it happens to Children who squirt at their Play-fellows against the Wind."
When a Person of any Spirits and Genius once gets into a Differtation on himself, he is a good while before he can get to the End of the Chapter; the pleasant Subject steals imperceptibly upon him, nor ever thinks he, while he is not weary of writing, any one else may be weary of reading: I was saying to shew a Contempt for low Wit, and to laugh at it yourself was the readiest Way to take the off the Laugh.—Now, Reader, if you are not tir'd, I'll tell you a
Story.—
If you are,—lay aside the Book, and come again when you have a better Appetite.
In that Year when the Stage fell into great Commotions, and the
Drury Lane
Company asserting the glorious Cause of
Liberty
and
Property,
made a Stand against the Oppressions in the Patentees. In that memorable Year when the Theatric Dominions
fell in labour
of a
Revolution,
under the Conduct of
myself,
that Revolt gave occasion to several Pieces of Wit and satirical
Flirts
at the Conductor of the Enterprize. I was attack'd, as my Father had been before me, in the publick Papers and Journals; and the burlesque Character of
Pistol
was attributed to me as a real one. Out came a Print of
Jack Laquerres,
representing, in most vile designing, this Expedition of ours, under the name of the
Stage Mutiny;
in which, gentle Reader,
your humble Servant,
in the
Pistol
Character, was the principal Figure. This I laugh'd at, knowing it only a proper Embellishment for one of these necessary Structures to which Persons only out of Necessity repair.—But now comes the grand Attack; a Summer Company was at this Juncture performing at
Covent-Garden Theatre;
and our Transactions, and my Character, were thought worthy to be represented on the Stage. Accordingly a young Spark, who was just come from
Trinity College
at
Cambridge,
to set up for an Author in Town, and who had just before wrote a Farce, call'd the
Mock-Lawyer,
thought this a proper Time to exercise his
Genius.
To work he went, and
Pistol
was to be his Heroe: A Farce was wrote, and perform'd, and the Bent of it was to ridicule poor
me:
Tone of Elocution, my buskin Tread, my Elevation of Countenance, my Dignity of Gesture, and expressive Rotation of Eye-balls: In short, all my Manner was burlesqu'd, and a mock Pomp of Words, which were a Parody of Tragedy Speeches, and
Pistol
's Bombast run through the Character.—This I will say, the
Thing
was so well tim'd, and the Person who mimick'd me did it so well, that it succeeded far beyond any the least intrinsick Merit that was in it.—But where am I again digressing?—How d'ye think I behav'd on this Occasion? I knew if there was any Thing smart upon me the Audience would very readily laugh at it, and indeed at a Rehearsal I thought some Things smart enough.—What then did I, but plac'd myself in one of the Side-boxes, in the full Front of the House, and was resolv'd, like
Cibber
's self,
'Sblood to stand them all.—
Epilogue to
Nonjuror.
Well, the Scene open'd, and on
Pistol
's appearing there was a thundering Clap, and all the Eyes in the House converted on
me;
every Sentence that hit at
me,
the Joke was heighten'd by looking at me, who laugh'd as much at
them,
and the
Poverty
of the
Author
's Wit, as the Author or the Audience could possibly do at me, but seem'd only to join the Chorus, and laugh for mere good Humour. Towards the last Scene the Author had introduc'd a Sale of theatric Goods, and one of the Properties put up to be dispos'd of,—was APOLLO
's crack'd Harp, and wither'd Crown of Bayes.—
Upon which a Character on the Stage reply'd,
—Oh! Pray lay that aside for Mr.
Pistol,
he will claim that by
hereditary Right.—This immediately put the whole House in a
Roar,—
and
Encore, Encore,
was all the Cry.—Here the whole Pit stood up and look'd at me.—I join'd the laughing
Encore,
and in the Repetition of the low Witticism, clap'd heartily.—This joining with the Humour of the Multitude, could give them no Pleasure; and what signifies being a little severe on one's Self, to prevent other People's being so.—This was my Way of Thinking:
Insuevit Pater optimus hoc me.
This Art profound, this happy Thought,
My good, my modest Father taught.
I am always proud to show in what Steps I trod: Read the next quoted Paragraph.
"
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 28.
In the Year 1730 there were many Authors, whose Merit wanted nothing but Interest to recommend them to the vacant laurel, and who took it ill to see it conferr'd on a Comedian, insomuch that they were resolv'd at least to shew Specimens of their superior Pretensions; and accordingly enliven'd the publick Papers with ingenious Epigrams, and satirical Flirts at the unworthy Successor. These Papers my Friends put into my Hands with a wicked Smile, and desired me to read them fairly in Company. This was a Challenge I never declin'd, and to do my doubty Antagonists Justice, I always read them with as much impartial Spirit as if I had writ them myself: While I was thus beset on all Sides, out steps a poetical Knight-Errant to my Assistance, who was hardy enough to publish some compassionate Stanza's in my Favour. These, you may be sure, the Raillery of my Friends could say I had written to
myself.
To deny it I knew would have confirm'd their Suspicion: I therefore told them since it gave them such Joy to believe them my own, I would do my best to make the whole Town think so too.—As the Odness of this Reply was, I knew, what would not be easily comprehended, I desir'd them to have a Day's Patience, and I would print an Explanation to it. To conclude, in two Days after I sent this Letter, with some doggerel Rhimes at the Bottom."
To the Author of the
Whitehall-Evening-Post.
SIR,
THE Verses to the
Laureat
in yours of
Saturday
last, have occasion'd the following Reply, which I hope you'll give a Place in your next, to shew we can be quick as well as smart, upon a proper Occasion: And as I think it the lowest Mark of a
Scoundrel
to make bold with any Man's Character in Print, without subscribing the true Name of the Author; I therefore desire, if the
Laureat
is concern'd enough to ask the Question, that you will tell him my Name, and where I live; till then I beg Leave to be known by no other Name than that of,
Your Servant, FRANCIS FAIRPLAY.
Monday, January
11, 1730.
These were the Verses.
I.
Ah! Hah! Sir
Coll.
Is that thy Way,
Thy own dull Praise to write?
And wouldst thou stand so sure a Lay?
No, that's too stale a Bite.
II.
Nature and Art in thee combine,
Thy Talents here excel;
All shining Brass thou dost outshine,
To play the Cheat so well.
III.
Who sees thee in
Iago
's Part,
But thinks thee such a Rogue,
And is not glad, with all his Heart,
To hang so sad a Dog.
IV.
When
Bayes
thou play'st, thyself thou art
For that by Nature fit,
No Blockhead better suits the Part
Than such a Coxcomb Wit.
V.
In
Wronghead
too thy Brains we see,
Who might do well at Plough;
As fit for Parliament was He,
As for the
Laurel
Thou.
VI.
Bring thy protected Verse from Court,
And try it on the Stage,
There it will make much better Sport,
And set the Town in Rage.
VII.
There Beaux and Wits, and Cits and Smarts.
Where Hissing's not uncivil,
Will shew their Parts to thy Deserts,
And send it to the Devil.
VIII.
But Ah! in vain 'gainst thee we write,
In vain thy Verse we maul!
Our sharpest Satire's thy Delight,
For—
Blood! thoul't stand them all.
IX.
Thunder, 'tis said, the Laurel spares,
Nought but thy Brows could blast it;
And yet,—Oh curst provoking Stars!
Thy Comfort is, thou
hast
it.
These doggrel Verses I have quoted with the same Design as the
Laureat
publish'd them in his
Apology,
to shew you his particular Cast of Temper, and consequently from what Fountain I have deriv'd mine. I cannot lose this Opportunity of mentioning another
Analogy
between us: As in our Tempers there is a peculiar Similitude, so there is in our Faculties in Writing.
C. Cilber
's Life, p. 31, 32.
He has too bold a Disregard for that Correctness which others set so just a Value on; . . . and when he speaks any Thing that delights him he finds it difficult to keep his Words within the Bounds of common Sense. . . . .
Even when
he writes, the same Failing gets the better of him,
and Instances that well-known Expression of his, That Mrs.
Oldfield out-did
her usual
Outdoings. . . . . .
Now have not I in all my Writings, shewn a thorough Disregard for pedant Correctness: In all my Speeches on the Stage, have not I, in the fullness of my Heart, broke through all Bounds of
Common Sense? . . .
Yet I must confess, though I have given many flat Writers Occasion to be brisk upon my general Stile, I was never so floridly happy as to make one single Expression a Standard Jest for ten Years together: I never hit on a Verb with so pleasant an Accusative after it, as could have such an Effect
Vide
p. 32.
;
for wherever the Verb
OUT DO
could be brought in, the pleasant Accusative
OUT DOING
was sure to follow it;
and,
Deries repitita placeret,
says the Apologist. . . . . It has been said of this very Sentence, that the pleasant
Accusative Outdoing
is Nonsense, as it is not Grammar. . . . . But pray let me ask such Pedants, Is there not a
Licentia
of a
Quidlibet
Audendi,
which all great
Genius's
claim? . . . Let cold ph
matic Writers, like dull Pack-horses, keep to the be
en Path; Men of Fire and Spirit, like Nags that have Blood in their Veins, will bounce out of the Road, start into full Speed, and show their Mettle.—Again:—Is it not a Characteristick of Excellence to have a Stile so peculiarly singular, that in the reading half a Page you are sure of the Author? Has not the great
B
ntley
gone on in this Principle, in all his most erudite Castigations?—Ca
hing the Stile of the Authors, has he not said of
Horace
and
Ter
nce,—Sic scripsi
.—
Thus he wrote?—Has he not said,
—Aut sic scripsisse debuit.—
Or so he should have wrote?—Has he not boldly asserted.
—Sic lege meo periculo.—
Read thus at my Peril?—The same Method he has taken with
Milton.—
The amount of all this is, if a singular Stile is a Demonstration of a Genius, I will venture, without any Infringement on Modesty, to affirm that the
Cibberian
Stile is a Proof of very remarkable Talents; and I know not but some future Critick will quote, that to hit on a
pleasant Verb,
followed by a
pleasant Accus
tive,
is a Mark of Excellence: Nor am I without Hopes, but that there are some rhetorical Boldnesses in my Compontions, which may be admir'd by late Posterity.—
Now the Reader may think this is all said with Seriosity.—No, Mr.
Cibber, sen.
confesses that to
outdo
an
Outdoing
is a
vile Jingle;
nor can I deny that there may be some few Expressions in my Writings which may perhaps raise a Smile.—But what then; it is our Happiness, though we write such Things seriously, we can laugh at them jocosely,—when others begin to laugh; and if other good Writers cannot do the same, they want that good Sense which some other People may be endow'd with.—If you write well, your
C. Cibber
's Life, p. 33.
Work
wi
go
without Crutches;
or would I
Vide Ditto.
publickly
put every
A
gument to Death
that appears against me. This were to be an Executioner instead of a Gentleman. Praise is a
v
luntary Tax
paid by the Publick; they may chuse whether they will pay it or not; but in the End
Merit
will
compel
them to it.
To conclude, the Substance of all that I have said, might as well been said at first, in two Lines of a great Author, and which, in a great Character I have often spoke with Applause.
Two Lines in the Character of
Pistol
in
Henry
the 4th.
Si fortuna me tormento,
Sperato me contento.
CHAP. III.
The Author's several Chances for the Church, the Court, and the Army.—Design'd for the University.—Took to the Stage.—Political Thoughts, with many others, which can be only known by the Reader's Perusal,
&c. &c. &c.
A FTER the long Digression which I made in the last Chapter, and the
Truant
which I have so long play'd from School, I am at a Loss for an
Apology
to address the Reader: I left myself at
Winchester
School, not making the greatest
Eclat
in Classical, Grammatical, and such Learning, yet distinguishing
myself
by some puerile Excellencies: My Father, to be sure, had some great
Designations
of me, of being a
Bishop,
or perhaps an
Arch-bishop,
he intending me for the
Church,
as he himself had been intended.—But to neither of us.
—Sic Dii Voluere.—
To introduce my Story in this third Chapter, I must quote the Introduction to his.—
"
Vide C. Cibber
's Life p. 34.
I am now come to that Crisis of my Life when Fortune seem'd to be at a Loss what she should do with me: H
she favour'd my Father's first Designation of me, he
ight then perhaps have had as sanguine Hopes of my being a Bishop, as I afterwards conceiv'd of being a General: Nay, I had a third Chance, of becoming an Underpropper of the State. How I came to be none of these, the Sequel will inform you."
My Father, as I before himed, had conceiv'd great Designations of me; but there was a Concatenation of Things, which occasion'd me to follow the same Tract which he had trod in before. I was not elected into
Winchester
College: All the Reasons may not be altogether so proper to repeat: I unfortunately mistook the Sense of a Line in
Virgil:
NISUS
amore pio pueri,
&c.
However to this Day I cannot think the making a false
Comment
on a Passage in a
Heathen
Author, should be a Disqualification for Ecclesiastic Preferment.—Be that however as it will, it was, I think, about the Year 1720, when a Change of Ministry was happening at
London,
and the Right Honourable Sir
R—W—
was about to make that illustrious Figure in
Europe,
which we have since seen; while the Nation was in
Labour
of such a
Production,
my Affairs also were in Labour of some Event, when I happen'd to be sent up to
London
to my Father, to be turn'd loose into the Bustle of the World.—At this Juncture you cannot but observe that the Fate of Sir
R. W.
and
T. C.
were at the same Time upon the Anvil: In what shape they would afterwards appear was only Guess-work: What Characters we have since attain'd, all
Europe
knows in Regard to
Him,
all
Britain
in Regard to
Me.
But a still more remarkable Crisis happen'd to Mr.
Colley Cibber,
on his Return from being a Candidate for
Winchester College:
Take his own Story.—
"The Nation now fell in Labour of the Revolution: The
Prince
of
Orange
was landed in the
West;
my Father was in Arms under the
Duke of Devonshire,
but I jump'd into his Saddle, and he return'd to
Chatsworth,
where he was at Work. At this Crisis King
James
and the Prince of
Orange,
and that of so minute a Being as myself, were at once upon the Anvil. In what Shape they would severally come out, though a good
Guess
might be made, was not then
demonstrable
to the deepest Foresight.—But, adds he, if one Month sooner I had been at the University, who knows but by this Time, that purer Fountain might have wash'd my Imperfections into a Capacity of writing (instead of Plays and Annual Odes) Sermons, and pastoral Letters."
And
who knows,
if I had attach'd myself to the Order of Priesthood, what a Figure I might by this Time have made: I might, instead of writing
Country Correspondents,
and
Daily Gazetteers,
have penn'd
Characters
of Queens, and spoke Speeches from a Reverend Bench in Defence of Prime Ministers.
You must now consider me at a Period of Time which produced such a Change in publick Affairs, which, as I can now judge of them, were of great Consequence to the Nation. When I think of this
Aera,
being famous for a Change, that made Sir
R. Prime Minister;
I naturally digress on Prime Ministers, and the Changes they are wish'd to meet with.
C. Cibber
's Lise, p. 38.
"While great Men want great Posts, the Nation will never want seeming Patriots; and no Ministers but will be heartily rail'd at. But I cannot forbear thinking that they who have been longest rail'd at, must from that Circumstance show in some Sort the Proof of a Capacity."
If this Circumstance of being long rail'd at is an undubitable Characteristick of a wise and able Minister, the
Right Honourable Gentleman,
whose Crisis of Fortune was depending at the same Time, as mine has been, the most able and wise Minister that ever manag'd the Affairs of this Nation. Notwithstanding this Proof of Capacity,
he
and his
Measures
have been talk'd of much in the same Manner as Mr.
C. Cibber
politically remarks People did of King
James
and his Conduct.
"
C. Cibber
's Life, p. 39.
It is incredible (says that Historian) with what Freedom and Contempt the common People in the open Streets talk'd of his
wild Measures,
yet we of the Vulgar had no farther Notion of any Remedy for this Evil, than a satisfy'd Presumption that our Numbers were too great to be master'd by his mere Will and Pleasure; that though he might be too hard for our Laws, yet he could never get the better of our Nature; and to drive all
England
into Slavery, he would find would
be teaching an old Lion to dance."
There are, I say, Men malecontent and weak enough to talk in this Manner of Sir
R—
and (to use the above
el
g
nt
and apt Simile) who think themselves too
old Lions to be taught to dance.—
But I don't see how they can help it; for, to compare this
great Man
to what he has never yet been compar'd, he is like another ORPHEUS, who can make these
old Lions
move to the
Tun
he
plays,
and they must
dance,
while he (using another of the
Laureat
's Expressions) is the
Fiddle
of the
Nation.
These are a few of my political Notions, by which you may see what a Sort of a Party-Man I am; but if talking of the Minister has drawn me at any Time ever so far out of my Depth, I still flatter myself I have kept a
simple, honest Head above Water.
And it is a solid Comfort, how insignificant soever I may seem, that I have made One among many others, who have wrote Papers and Pamphlets, to prove the happy Effects of this present Administration.—Thus may I be said to have become, in Reality, an
Underpropper
of the
State,
which my Father, not getting a Place in the
Vide C. Cibber
's Life.
Secretary's Office,
never arriv'd at.
But to recover the Clue of my History: I was now come from
Winchester
to
London,
to turn out into the
Bus
le of the World,
in which, according to my Rank of Life, I have made more Bustle than any one before me: My Father did not know well what to do with me; for I had so remarkable a Genius, that I was fit for any Thing, and yet fit for nothing. In this Vacancy of his Resolution, being a forward Youth, I wanted to know something of the World, which Knowledge I soon attain'd, and began to run into the
hey-day
Gallantries of a Man of Mode: In short, I thought myself a very
pretty Fellow.
The
clear Emannations
of
Beauty
struck me into a Regard for the fair Sex, that had something softer than profound Respect. I could not resist its Power, which is efficacious on all; for
Beauty, like the Sun, shines into equal Warmth, the Peasant and the Courtier:
So good a Taste my first hopeful Entrance into Manhood set out with.—
Vide
Apology, p. 42.
My Father had the same Kind of Heart, which was ready to be
shone into Warmth,
and he handsomly
The samé Page.
apologizes, that as he was waiting at Table on the present
Dutchess Dowager
of
Marlborough,
in the Year of the Revolution, these two Words,
Litto,
for this Relation and these Phrases.
Some Wine and Water;—
These
two
Words only, that very
single Sound, struck upon
his Senses, which were collected into his Eyes, by the
clear Emanation
of her
Beauty.—
This gay Spirit of mine gave some Uneasiness to my good Mother, but my Father laugh'd at it, as a pleasing Recordation of himself: To hear of some of my youthful Sallies, which were the Effects of great Spirits, and into which none but your great
Genii
run; to see an honest Boldness, or modest Assurance in Countenance and Speech, which none but Men conscious of Merit have. This must give him a pleasing Recordation of Mind; then he might truely cry out with Extasy,—
Motto to
Cibber
's Life.
"Hoc est
"Vivere bis, vita pisse priore frui.
Which he since translates thus;
"When Years no more of active Life retain,
"Tis Youth renew' a to laugh 'em o'er again.
But which I translate, for I can translate as well as he, thus:
'Tis to live twice, to see the Life you led
Again liv'd over by the
SON
you bred.
Or thus:
'Twas to live twice,—Twice the same Acts enjoy,
To see the same still practis'd by his Boy.
After this Interval of Idleness, some Views of Life were set before my Eyes, as the Army or the City. The Army I lik'd tolerably; nay, so well, that I partly took upon myself, and was partly complimented by my Companions, with the News of
Captain.—
And it is with some Pleasure I hear myself call'd the
young Captain
to this Day. But a small Commission, however more honourable it might seem, I began to know was not so profitable as the Profession of an Actor: And though my Father, at the Revolution, had Thoughts of being a General-Officer, Things were now chang'd; and I have often bless'd my Stars for my preferring the Theatre to the Camp; on that I have been a Heroe, strutted with a golden
Trun
h
on,
nodded Command to
Roman
Legions, and old
British
Bands. In the Army I might have still trail'd a Lieutenant's Half-pike, and in some Country Quarters liv'd inglorious; for Years pacific roll'd revolving round; the Spirit-stirring Drum, the Earpiercing Fife, all Pride, Pomp, Circumstance of glorious War have long'd been lo
t in Peace, which long Farewel have told the Soldier's Occupation lost.—'Twas
n the S
age alone I promis'd myself much Pleasure, much Income, and much Reputation:—Nor is a
heatric Profession so contemptible as some affect to think.
"Was a little foolish Prejudice laid aside,
C. Cibber
's Life, p. 46.
Mr.
C. Cibb
r
truely says, that many a well-born younger Brothe
, and many a Beauty of low Fortune would gladly have adorn'd the Theatre, who, by their not being able to brook such Dishonour to their Birth, have pass'd away Lives decently unheeded and forgotten."
In short, it is better to be this or that on the Stage, so you get handsomly by it, than live in any Degree of Ignominy or not Ignominy off from it; that is, there is no Ignominy on the Stage, or, if you will, the Stage is above Ignominy.
See this Period:
"I rememember (says Mr.
Cibber
C. Cibber
's Life, p. 46.
) a Lady with a real Title, whose female Indiscretions had occasion'd her Family to abandon her, being willing to make an honest Penny of what Beauty she had left, desir'd to be admitted an Actress: Her Relations oppos'd it for Reasons easy to be guess'd at: It was not our Interest to make an honourable Family our Enemies, and she was refus'd. Here you find her honest Endeavour to get Bread from the Stage,
(i. e.
to make an honest Penny of her Beauty) was look'd on as an additional Scandal to her former Dishonour; so that I am afraid, had the Lady sold Patches and Pomatum in a Band-Box from Door to Door, she might have starv'd with less
Infamy,
than reliev'd her Necessity by being famous on the Stage."
—In short, 'tis no Ignominy to be
la Damoiselle de Plasir
in a Theatre.—
But notwithstanding all I have said, and my Father before me, the Profession of a Player still continues, as by his Memoirs I find it has always done, to be held by many Gentlemen and People of Quality in no great Esteem; and many outrageous Insults have been committed by Persons, who would be thought Gentlemen, on Actors, whom they dar'd not have used so in any other Place but a Theatre. But these Insulters of
Audiences,
as well as
Players,
are not to be rul'd, there is no contending with them; they are all Patriots, Liberty and Property Men, who roar out to defend their
Magna Charta,
of doing what they will in a Theatre. This Usage of Players, Mr.
Cibber
says,
"keeps young People of Sense from coming on the Stage; they fear entering into a Society, whose Institution if not abused, is an excellent School of Morality: But alas! as
Shakspear
says:
"Where's that Place where into sometimes
"Foul Things intrude not?
And really the Abuse of the Stage by the Actors, be it as great as it will, by acting indiscreetly in their private Lives, it is not greater than the Abuse that those noisy Rioters make of it by their publick Disturbances: I cannot apprehend what rational Authority this
Society for the Reformation of theatrical Manners
can plead, to call an Actor to an Account on the Stage for what he has done off it: Would any Judge pay less Regard for a Counsellor's Argument at the Bar, because he may be an indiscreet, or even a bad Man at home?—But it is otherwise at our theatric Bar of Judgment; our
Judges
are also
Jury,
and likewise
Executioners;
and though you appear there not as your own Person, they make you the
Culprit,
put you immediately on your
Trial,—
and
G—d send you a good Deliverance.—
But I may say what I will against thse unjust, unlimited Insults, yet the Player who falls under such a Caprice of publick Displeasure, must be left
adrift, and ride out the Storm as well as he is able.
I would here speak of some Storms which poor I have been adrift in, and which I have out-rode by that admirable Stage Apothegm,
'Sblood I'll stand you all.
But that Anecdote will fall under my Pen in a subsequent Chapter: To conclude this; the View of rising some Time or other to live in that modish Affluence, jovial Gaiety, and seeming Importance, in which my Father and some others I saw liv'd, was the flattering Light by which I steer'd my Course: Such Temptations were too strong for so warm a Vanity as mine to resist; on the Stage I came, being entered, according to my Merit, at a very low Salary; and now, gentle and most candid Reader, your Curiosity is from thence to expect a farther Account of me.
CHAP. IV.
The Author follows Mr.
Colley Cibber
's Method of History.—A short History of the Stage and Actors, from the
Restoration
to the
Revolution.
—Their Characters.—Why given,
&c.
A S I have profess'd myself an humble Imitator of Mr.
C. Cibber
's peculiar Manner of
historical Narrations,
I hope the Reader will not think frequent
Digressions
from my own Actions and Life, any Way inconsistent; for though I have only promis'd an Account of the material Occurrences of the Theatre during my
own Time,
yet a short History of the Theatre, from the
Restoration
to the
Revolution,
and from thence to the present Year 1740, may be worth more Notice than giving the Publick an Account of my youthful Adventures, for which, little
Apology,
I am afraid, can be made. As in an Account of this Nature I cannot make use of my own Knowledge and Judgment, I must claim the Privilege of all
Historians,
of having Recourse to those Authors who have treated on the Subject before: Nor shall I omit that Part, which modern History is much founded on,
Oral Tradition:
To these I shall add such Intelligence as I could collate from such
ancient Records
as still remain in the
Archives
of the
Theatre.
But though I may severally use all these Aids, the chief Support which I shall rely on, will be the
Memoirs
which Mr.
C. Cibber
has, with great
Authenticity
and
Judgment,
collected; and I shall also give a faithful Abstract of his
Theatrical Characters,
because they will lead you into a clearer View of some modern ones, which I myself, at a due Time and Place, shall venture to pourtray:—Before I enter on this Undertaking, I must premise, that many are the inimitable Beauties in Stile, in Thought, and Manner of the great
apologeti
al Original,
which my Compendium will not allow me to introduce; however the Reader may depend, my Abstract from it shall be so connected, that I will give him the
Quinta pars sui Nectaris.
The very Quintessence of his
NECTAR.
And this Chapter shall be, as it were,
Ilias in Nuce,—
The
Iliad
in a
Nutshell.—
Without farther Preface or Apology.
The Civil War which was begun between King
Charles
the First, in Defence of his Prerogative, and his People, in Defence of their Freedom, introduced, at Length, all the Effects of Anarchy: Every Thing that was truly good and virtuous was no longer in Esteem: Those pions Schools of Morality, the
Playh
uses,
were no longer suffer'd; the Stage fell with Monarchy, and the Peers of the Land with the Actors of the Theatre: But as it fell with Monarchy, it was with Monarchy restor'd; for at King
Charles
the 2d's Restoration, two Patents were granted, one to Sir
William D'avenant,
and the other to
Henry Killegrew,
Esq
according to Mr.
Cibber
's Account, or to Mr.
Thomas Killegrew,
according to the Relation of that
Theatric Annalist, John Downes,
the old
Prompter.
The Company under Sir
William D'avenant,
says Mr.
Cibber,
were call'd the
King's Servants,
and acted at the
Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane;
the other the
Duke's Company,
who acted at the
Duke's Theatre
in
Dorset Garden:—
But Mr.
Downes
wrote an Account of the Stage during his own Time, call'd,
Ros
ius Anglicanus.
Downes
says,
"that on the Restoration, the scattered Remnant of
six Playhouses,
which subsisted in King
Charles
the
First's
Time, upon the Restoration fram'd a Company, and acted again at the
Bull Playhouse,
built them a new Theatre in
Gibbon's Tennis-Court
in
Clare-Market,
in which two Places they continued acting all 1660, 1661, 1662, and Part of 1663. In this Time they built them a
new Theatre
in
Drury-Lane,
Mr.
Thomas Killegrew
gaining a Patent from the
King,
in order to create them the
King's Servants,
and from that Time they call'd themselves, his
Majesty's Company of Comedians
in
Drury-Lane.
As to the Company acting under Sir
William D'avenant, Downes
gives this particular Account of its first Rise and going to
Dorset-Garden.
"In the Year
one thousand six hundred and fiftynine
General
Monk
marching then his Army out of
Scotland
to
London,
Mr.
Rhodes,
a Bookseller, being
Wardrobe Keeper
formerly, as I am inform'd, to King
Charles
the
First
's Company of Comedians in
Black-Fryars,
geting a License from the then governing State, fitted up a House for acting, call'd the
Cookpit,
in
Drury-Lane,
and in a short Time compleated his Company.
In this Interim, Sir
William D'avenant
gain'd a Patent from the King, and opened a House in
Lincolns-Inn-Fields,
with new Scenes and Decorations, being the first that were ever introduced into
England;
where they continued to act till the Year 1671, when they open'd a new Theatre in
Dorset-Garden,
and remov'd from
Lincolns-Inn-Fields
thither."
The Reader cannot but observe some Difference in these two great Historians; to shew my faithful Attachment to Truth I have given both Accounts; and, gentle Reader,
Utrum▪ Horum Mavis Accipe.
Of the King's Company, about ten were put on the Royal Houshold Establishment, having each ten Yards of scarlet Cloth, with a proper Quantity of Lace allow'd them for Liveries; and in the Warrants from the Lord Chamberlain they were stil'd,
Gentlemen of the Great Chamber.
Both these Companies were in high Estimation; the long Interdiction of Plays had given fresh Appe
te to such Representations; besides, before now no Actresses had been seen on the Stage. The Characters of Women, in Theatres, were perform'd by Boys, or young Men of the most effeminate Aspect: And what Grace, or Master-Stro
es of Action can we conceive such ungain H
ydens to have been capable of? These two Theatres had another advantageous Rule, made by themselves, which was, that no Play acted at one House should ever be attempted at the other: This prevented a Sa
iety of the same Plays, and kept up the Pleasure which might otherwise grow languid.—For what Pleasure is not languid to Satiety?—The Neglect which has been had, for several Years past, to this
Management,
Mr.
C. Cibber
thinks is the Occasion of the Degradation of the present Theatres, by the
Entertainments
they exhibit;
"
C. Cibber
's Life, p. 56.
for when Plays are hackney'd out to the common People indifferently at any Theatre, the best Actors will soon feel the Town h
s enough of them:"
Hence he proves a Plu
al
y of Playhouses detrimental to the Stage, unless a proportionable Number of good Authors could rise to give them all different Employments:
"But while good Writers are so scarce, and
undaunted Criticks
so plenty, I am afraid a good Play and a blazing Star will be equal Rarities: This indulging the Taste with several Theatres, will amount to the same Variety as an Oeconomist would show, who would have
two P
ldings
and
two Legs of Mutron
for the same Dinner."
Though this Simile has been inserted in many a Twopenny Jest-Book, yet, as it is admirably introduced, I have again ventur'd to quote it. But to resume the Thread of this History.
"These two excellent Companies were both prosperous for some Time, t
ll their Variety of Plays began to be exhausted; then of Course the better Actors, which the King's seem to have been allow'd, could not fail of drawing greater Audiences. Sir
William D'avenant,
therefore; Master of the
Duke's Company,
introduced Musick to Action, and a new Species of Plays, call'd,
Dramatick Opera's.
"
—I must here observe Mr.
Cibber
says Sir
William
was Master of the
Duke's Company,
though in a Page before he said they were the
King
's: This Inadvertance arises from his not rightly counting ONE, TWO: But he has
too bold a Disregard for Correctness, which others set a Value on:
It is with a little Compunction that I made this Remark, yet,
Amicus
SOCRATES,
Amicus
PLATO,
sed magis amica
VENTAS.
"
C. Cibber
's Life, p.
7.
This sensual Supply of Sight and Sound, coming into the weaker Party, they grew too hard for Sense and simple Nature; for more People can see and hear than think and judge: This Change of Taste fell heavy on the
King
's Company; they had Truth on their Side, and Praise for their Action; but 'tis
cold
Comfort
—Laudatur & Alget.—
Unprofitable Praise can hardly give it a
Soup Maigre.—
In this Rivalship of the two Houses,
Mohun
and
Hart
growing old, and the young Actors impatient to get into their Parts, and intractable, the Audience likewise falling off at both Houses, the two Companies were united into one, exclusive of all others, in the Year 1684."
or according to
Downes
's Chronology, 82.—This Union, says the
Apologist,
was however so much in Favour of the
Duke
's Company, that
Hart
left the Stage upon it.—The old
Prompter
says,
"
Downes's Roscius Anglicanuus.
Upon this Union, Mr.
Hart,
being the
Heart
of the Company under Mr.
Killegrew
's Patent, never acted more by Reason of his Malady, being afflicted with the Stone and Gravel, of which he died some time after, having a Salary of
forty Shillings
a Week to the Day of his Death."
One Theatre was now in Possession of the whole Town, and the united Patentees imposed their own Terms on the Players: The Actors, who have always as quick a Sense of Injuries, and as high and glorious a Love of Freedom as any People whatever, appeal'd for Redress to the Lord Chamberlain, who was then my Lord
Dorset,
who finding their Complaints just, procured from King
William,
in 1695, a separate License for Mr.
Congreve,
Mr.
Betterton,
Mrs.
Barry,
Mrs.
Br
girdle,
and others, to set up a new Company, calling it the
New Theatre
in
Lincolns-Inn-Fields;
and they open'd it the last Day of
April,
1695, with a n
w Comedy, call'd,
Love for Love.
Mr.
Colley Cibber
begins his Account of the Actors from his entering upon the Stage, 1690, which were the Remains of what was call'd the
Duke's Company,
but is quite silent as to the
King's Company,
whom he allows to have been their Superiors: I shall, therefore, in this
Apology
for
my Life,
be bold enough to supply that Defect in the
Apology
for
his:
It may be said perhaps,
"What, Is this apologizing for your Lives?—
Well, Sir
Critick!
Suppose we call it so; What then? But to the Purpose.
The Company acting under Mr.
Killegrew
consisted of the following
Actors
and
Actresses:
MEN.
Mr.
Theophilus Bird,
Mr.
Hart,
Mr.
Mohun,
Mr.
Lacy,
Mr.
Burt,
Mr.
Ca
twright,
Mr.
Chun,
Mr.
Shorterell,
Mr.
Kynaston,
Mr.
Wintersell,
Mr.
Griffin,
Mr.
Goodman,
Mr.
Lyddoll.
WOMEN.
Mrs.
Carey,
Mrs.
Marshall,
Mrs.
Uphill,
Mrs.
Knep,
Mrs.
Hughes.
And sometime after came into this Company
Mrs.
Bout
ll,
Mrs.
Ellen Gwin,
Mrs.
James,
Mrs.
Rutter,
Mrs.
Knight.
These Actors and Actresses were professedly excellent, and who could have been no
Imitators
but all
Originals,
for which Reason it may be much doubted if they have been since equall'd: It is impossible for me to give an Account of their Perfections after the elaborate Manner Mr.
Cibber
has of some others who succeeded them; but if any Regard is to be paid to the Judgment of the Audi
nces and Authors of their Time, they must have excell'd highly in Parts which we see them cast to in the best Plays of that Time.
Hart
was the Standard to which
Mountford
and
Wilks
endeavour'd, and with great Success, to arrive at; yet are said not thoroughly to attain it.
Mohun
was form'd for an artful Sterness in Tragedy, and had great Talents in Comedy: He was the original
Ventidius
in Mr.
Dryden
's
All for Love,
and was eminent for the
Volpone
of
Ben Johnson.
Mrs.
Marshall,
Mrs.
Ellen Gwin,
and Mrs.
Boutell
were equally admir'd in Tragedy and Comedy. To give the Reader, who has any Knowledge of Theatric Performances the best Idea I am able of these Actors, I will transcribe the Cast of two or three Plays, in which they peculiarly excell'd, and which still continue to be acted on the Stage.
The FOX.
Volpone,
Major
Mohun.
Mosca,
Mr.
Hart.
Corbacchio,
Mr.
Cartwright.
Voltore,
Mr.
Shatterell.
Corvino
Mr.
Burt.
Sir
Politick Wou'dbe,
Mr.
Lacy.
Peregrine,
Mr.
Kynaston.
Lady
Wou'dbe,
Mrs.
Corey.
Celia,
Mrs.
Marshall.
OTHELLO.
Othello,
Mr.
Hart.
Brabantio,
Mr.
Cartwright.
Cassio,
Mr.
Burt.
Iago,
Major
Mohun.
Roderigo,
Mr.
Shatterell.
Desdemona,
Mrs.
Hughes.
Emilia,
Mrs.
Rutter.
Earl of ESSEX.
The Earl of
Essex,
Mr.
Clark.
The E. of
Southampton,
Mr.
Griffin,
Lord
Burleig
.
Major
Mo
un.
Queen
Elizabeth.
Mrs.
Gwin.
I come now to speak of, in the same transitory Manner Sir
William D'avenant
's Company, and of the Persons who compos'd it. Mr.
Rhodes,
as I mention'd before, form'd a Company, of which the following Names is a compleat List.
MEN.
Mr.
Betterton,
Sheppy,
Lov
il,
illison,
Underhill,
Turner,
Dix
n,
Robert No
es,
These Six acted WOMENS Parts.
Mr.
Kynaston,
James Nokes,
Angell,
William Berterton,
Mosely,
Floyd.
On Sir
William D'avenant
's getting a Patent from the King, and forming this odd Band into a more regular Manner, he took in these following Actors:
Mr.
Harris,
Mr.
P
e,
Mr.
Richards,
Mr.
Blayden,
Mr.
S
ith,
Mr.
Sandford,
Mr.
Medbourne,
Mr.
T
u
g,
Mr.
Norris.
To these he added the following Actresses, the four first of which he boarded in his own House.
Mrs.
D
v
nport,
Mrs.
Saunderson,
Mrs.
Gibbs,
Mrs.
Norris,
Mrs.
Davies,
Mrs.
Long.
Mrs.
Holden,
Mrs.
Jennings.
Thus this Company stood in the Year 1662; but having lost several of the Actors by Death, and some by Love, it was recruited in the Year 1673, by Mr.
Anthony Leigh,
Mr.
Jevon,
Mr.
Percival—
and Mr.
Williams,
who came in a Boy, and serv'd Mr.
H
rris;
and Mr.
Boman,
a Boy likewise: Among the new Women were Mrs.
Barry,
Mrs.
Currer,
Mrs.
Butler,
and others.
Though I may seem impertinently prolix, yet, by some, this
Theatric Chronology
will be thought not unnecessary; and it is, in fact, a proper Introduction to that Part of Theatrical History, which Mr.
C. Cibber
has very copio
sly related, and of which I shall here give a Sort of an Abstract; for this, with my own Account, will make a perfect
Compendium
of
Stage History.—
Thus he writes—
"In the Year 1670, when I first came into this Company, the principal Actors then at the Head of it were,
Of MEN.
Mr.
Betterton,
Mr.
Mountford,
Mr.
Kynaston,
Mr.
Sandford,
Mr.
Nokes,
Mr.
Underhill,
and
Mr.
Leigh.
Of WOMEN.
Mrs.
Betterton,
Mrs.
Barry,
Mrs.
Leigh,
Mrs.
Butler,
Mrs.
Mountford,
and
Mrs.
Bracegirdle.
Betterton
was an Actor as
Shakespear
was an Author, both without Competitors, form'd for the mutual Assistance, and Illustration of each other's Genius: The one was born only to speak what the other only knew to write: But to give a more clear Idea of him: You have seen a
Hamlet,
perhaps, who, on the first Appearance of his Father's Spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining Vociferations requisite to express Rage and Fury, and the House has thunder'd with Applause, though the misguided Actor was
tearing a Passion into Rags.
Now
Betterton
threw this Scene into another Light: He open'd it with a Pause of mute Amusement, then rising slowly to a solemn trembling Voice, he made the Ghost equally terrible to the Spectator as to himself; and in the descriptive Part of the natural Emotions which the ghastly Vision gave, the Boldness of his Expostulations were still govern'd by Decency; manly, but not braving; his Voice never rising into that seeming Outrage, or wild Defiance of what he naturally rever'd.
A farther Excellence
Betterton
had was, that he could vary his Spirit to the different Characters he acted: Those wild impatient Starts, that fierce and flashing Fire which he threw into
Hotspur
never came from the unruffied Temper of
Brutus,
(for I have seen, more than once, a
Brutus
as warm, as
Hotspur.)
When the
Betterton Brutus
was provok'd in his Dispute with
Cassius,
his Spirit flew only to his Eye; his steady Look alone supply'd that Terror which he disdain'd an Intemperance of Voice should rise to. Thus with a settled Dignity of Contempt, like an
unheeding Rock
he repell'd upon himself the Foam of
Cassius:
Perhaps the Words of
Shakespear
will better let you into my Meaning.
Must I give Way and Room to your rash Choler?
S
all I be frighted when a Madman stares?
And a little after:
There is no Terror
Cassius
in your Looks,
&c.
But with whatever Strength of Nature we see the Poet show, at once the Philosopher and the Hero, yet the Image of the Actor's Excellence, unless Language could put Colours into our Words to paint the Voice with,
Et si vis Similem pingere, pinge Sonum,
is an Impossibility.
Besides these Characters, he shewed an
extraordinary Power
in
blowing
ALEXANDER
into a Blaze of Almi
ation,
yet the furious Fustian, and turged Rants in that Character he was sensible gain'd a false Applause only; for he thought no Applause equal to an attentive Silence; that there were many Ways of deceiving an Audience into a loud one, but to keep them hu
'd and quiet was an Applause which only Truth and Merit could arrive at. But if Truth and Merit were only applauded, how many noisy Actors would shake their Plumes with Shame, who, from an injudicious Approbation of the Multitude, have strutted and bawl'd in the Place of Merit.
Betterton
had a Voice of that Kind which gave more Spirit to Terror than to the softer Passions, of more Strength than Melody: The Rage and Jealousy of
Othello
became him better than the Sighs and Tenderness of
Castalio;
for though in
Castalio
he only excell'd others, in
Othello
he excell'd himself. The Person of this excellent Actor was suitable to his Voice; more manly than sweet; not exceeding the middle Stature; inclining to the Corpulent; of a serious, penetrating Aspect; his Limbs nearer the athletick than the delicate Proportion; yet, however form'd, there rose, from the Harmony of the Whole, a commanding Mein of Majesty, which the fairer-fac'd Darlings of his Time ever wanted something to be Masters of. The last Part he acted was
Melantius
in the
Maid's Tragedy,
for his own Benefit, when being suddenly seiz'd with the Gout, he submitted, by extraordinary Applications, to have his Foot so far reliev'd that he might be able to walk on the Stage in a Slipper, rather than wholly disappoint his Audience: He was observ'd that Day to have exerted a more than ordinary Spirit, and met with a suitable Applause; but the unhappy Consequence of tampering with his Distemper was, that it flew into his Head and kill'd him in three Days, in the 74th Year of his Age."
This is the chief Account which Mr.
Cibber
gives of
Betterton;
he has indeed interspers'd several Theatric Observations, which amount to no more than they who
write
can't
read,
and they who
read
can't
act:
Mr.
Dryden
could not read his own
Amphitrion;
yet
Nat. Lee,
read his Scenes so well, that
Mohun
cry'd out,
—Unless I were able to
PLAY
my Part as well as you
READ
it, to what Purpose should I take it?—
Yet
Nat. Lee
attempted to be an Actor, but soon left the Stage in despair of making a profitable Figure there.
I could, on this Head, add several curious
Anecdotes
of my
own,
and from Experience in the Stage Affairs prove, that as some who
write
can't
read,
so there are others who
read
that can't
write;
and yet some who can both
read, act,
and
write.—
How far indeed these
reading, writing, acting Qualifications
may be conjoin'd in one and the same Person, this
Apologetical History,
as well as that of Mr.
Colley Cibber,
will be some humble kind of
Demonstration of:
Some indeed may think, that by these Memoirs
we
may
blaze to Pesterity in a ludicrou
Lustre,
and that our Observations and Digressions
signify, roundly, N
thing;
yet to the Drum of the Ear will I as roundly rattle,
A
FICO
for thy Criticism, vile Wight,
You say we Print indeed, yet cannot Write.
I, myself I, and Father print indeed,
But what we print we wrote, and what we wrote you read.
—But
h
lt a little.—
I had something to say on the above Description of
Betterton:
It may be in the greatest Part, or even in the whole, just; yet is it not carrying the Elogium too far, to think, nor
Hart,
nor
Mohun,
nor any in their Company, nor some before them equal'd him, perhaps surpass'd him? Mr.
Cibber
says none has since arriv'd at his Perfections; this very possily may be, yet very likely every succeeding Age will think in the same Manner of other Actors: As Mr.
Hart
and
Mohun
's Excellencies were forgot by Degrees, Mr.
Betterton
's arose; when his fail'd by his Death, Mr.
Booth
was thought to be a very great Successor: In short, they who remember
Betterton,
shake their Heads at
Booth;
they that are in full Memory of
Booth,
with pitiful Scorn see some
modern Performers,
who, half a Century hence, may be highly admir'd in their Turn, in Prejudice to
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology.
New Al
pts
in the Profession: This, say what you will, is a prejudice of Nature, the Impressions we first receive are so deeply affecting, that even, having Judgment afterwards, it imposes on it: Prejudices in
theatrical Affairs
are as imperceptibly got, and as obstinately maintain'd as those in
Religion;
and we may say of the first Representation we see, what
says of our first Education.
By Education most Men are misled,
We so believe because we so were bred;
The Priest continues what the Nurse began,
And thus the
Child
imposes on the
Man
But really
Betterton,
besides his Excellencies of
Nature
and
Judgment,
and other great Advantages, for though he is call'd an
Original,
he had seen all the
old Players,
who were very excellent, and those were remembered who were
Originals
of
Shakespear.—
What Aid such Remembrance might be, take from the following
Anecdotes.
"
Downs
's Account of the Stage.
In the Tragedy of
Hamlet,
says old
Downes,
the Part of
Hamlet
was perform'd by Mr.
Betterton;
Sir
William D'avenant
having seen Mr.
Taylor
of the
Black-Fryars
Company act it, who was instructed by the Author, Mr.
Shakespear,
taught Mr.
Betterton
in
every Article
of it, which, by his exact Performance of it, gain'd him Esteem and Reputation superlative to all other Plays."
Thus again this ancient, but faithful
Memoirist
delivers himself concerning the Play of
Henry the Eighth.
"The Part of the King was all new cloath'd in a proper Habit, and so right and justly done by Mr.
Betterton,
he being instructed in it by Sir
William D'avenant,
who had it from old Mr.
Lowen,
that had his Instructions from Mr.
Shakespear himself,
that I dare and will aver, none can or will come near him in this Age, in the Performance of that Part.
The Reader will observe, that in
theatrical Memoirists,
a Simplicity of Stile in plain Narration too often occurs; but he will pardon this bold Disregard for grammatical Correctness, if, thro' our Rapidity of Thought, he investigates the Meaning: He will see then how in
Hamlet
Mr.
Betterton
came by that Judgment, which Mr.
Cibber
takes up some Pages in extolling; he will find those Actors who have been
Originals
in Parts, are thought to have excell'd to the highest Degree: And Mr.
Betterton
might have been as excellent in those Parts in which he was an
Original,
as any other Actor before him; yet an Actor after him, who has an
original
Part, and consequently thereby becomes an
Origin
l,
may be thought so far to excel, that few Actors, while he is remember'd, shall, with any equal,
judicious Approbation,
succeed in that Part.—On the whole,
original Parts
make an
Actor,
and they who have seen a perfect set of Actors, can only judge of succeeding ones by them: The
Laudator temporis acti
Is not merely confin'd to old Men; by natural Prejudice we catch this Apurtenance to old Age, when we have scarce pass'd the Verge of Youth. But to conclude of Mr.
Betterton,
with a greater Compliment than any other paid him, though the Epilogue to his last Benefit, wrote by Mr.
Rowe,
was a very good one, take this Description of him from a Prologue of
Dryden.
He, like the setting Sun, still shoots a glimm'ry Ray,
Like ancient
Rome,
majestic in Decay.
Mr.
C. Cibber
's long Digression has led me into this; but as, in his Account of
Betterton,
his Sentiments on theatrical Ac
ion are chiefly express'd; I have ventur'd to subjoin these Sentiments of mine to his Account, that I may not be so tedious on this Subject in another Place. I shall now introduce his other drawn Characters, and
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 71.
ake use of the same Vehicles, which you will find waiting in the next Chapter, to carry you through the rest of your Journey at Leisure,—
for all know, that,
Placida narratio pro
Vehiculo
est.
CHAP. V.
Theatrical Characters, Quotations, Dissertations, Annotations, Digressions, Expressions, Allusions collated, imitated, and related, with A few Words to critical Auditors.
I T was before observ'd, Women were not admitted on the Stage till after the Restoration, yet, by the Lists I have given, you will find they were not so very easily supply'd; for in the Company where
Betterton
was engag'd, they were forc'd still to put young Men into female Characters; and Mr.
Kynaston
stands first in that motley Cast; nor indeed had they any till Sir
William D'avenant
brought them to that Company: On the contrary, the
Old,
or the
King's Company
under
Killegrew,
had at first setting out some Women, who in the Summer of King
Charles
the Second's Reign, even when the Companies were in their highest Prosperity, were thought inimitable: How hard then is it to fix unlimited Excellence to particular Persons! . . . But of these
Male Women, Kynaston
was esteem'd, being very young and handsome; and, according to
Downes
's Phrase
Downes
's
Roscius Anglicanus.
,
a compleat Female Stage-Beauty, performing his Parts so well, especially
Arthiope
and
Aglaura,
Parts greatly moving Compassion and Pity, that it is doubted whether any Woman that succeeded him, so sensibly touch'd the Audience. . . .
Behold the Doatage of
servile Partiality! . . . .
Mr.
Cibber
speaks of his Beauty, and his performing
Evadne
in the
Maid's Tragedy,
to which he subjoins a facetious Incident, which those Shifts once occasion'd. . .
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 73.
King
Charles
coming to a Tragedy sooner than usual, and was impatient to have the Performance begin, and sent to know the Meaning of their Delay, the Master of the Company came to the Box, and thinking the best excuse would be the Truth, fairly told his Majesty, the Queen was not yet shav'd. The King laugh'd, and staid till her Majesty could be effeminated.—But as for
Kynaston,
he was so beautiful, that the Ladies of Quality prided themselves in taking him with them in their Coaches in this theatrical Habit, after the Play, which in those Days began at four o' Clock;—Such a Custom of the Ladies, of carrying such a handsome young Fellow, though in Petticoats, in their Coaches with them, without any Apprehension of Censure, is as strong an Instance as possible, to what Height the modish Gallantry of that Time was carried!
But even on Mr.
Kynaston
's changing Sexes, that is, his Petticoats to the Buskin, and his Stays to the Truncheon, he still remained famous: He had, it seems, a formal Gravity in his Mein, which in some Characters became him. His Eye was piercing, and in Characters of heroick Life, led, in his Tone of Voice, an imperious Vivacity that truely depicted the Tyrant. In these two Parts,
Morat
in
Aurengzebe,
and
Muley Moloch
in
Sebastian,
he had a fierce
Lyon-like Majesty,
in his Utterance, that gave the Spectator a Kind of trembling Admiration.—In
Henry the Fourth
he was a Master of a different Majesty, but of so true a Kind, that when he whisper'd the following Line to
Hotspur,
Send us your Prisoner, or you'll hear of it,
He conveyed more Menace than the loudest Intemperance of Voice could swell to:
Kynaston,
like
Betterton,
strictly followed the Rules of Truth and Nature; yet, what seem'd surprising, they were as different in their Manner of acting as in their personal Form and Features. He stay'd too long on the Stage, till his Memory and Spirits fail'd him; his latter Imperfections were not his own, but those of decaying Nature.
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 76.
Mountsord
was a younger Man, tall, well-made, of agreeable Aspect, fair, his Voice clear, full, and melodious: In Tragedy a most affecting Lover; his Words had that
Softness,
that
Like Flakes of feather'd Snow,
They melted as they fell.
In Comedy he gave the truest Life to what we call the fine Gentleman: in Scenes of Gaiety he never broke into the Regard that was due to the Presence of equal or superior Characters, though inferior Actors play'd them: He fill'd the Stage not by elbowing and crossing it before others, or disconcerting their Action, but by surpassing them in Time and masterly Touches of Nature: He never laugh'd at his own Jest, unless the Point of his Raillery requir'd it: He had besides, such a Variety of Genius, that he could throw off the Man of Sense for the brisk, vain, rude, lively Coxcomb; hence he excell'd in Sir
Courtly Nice:
His whole Man, his Voice, Mein, and Gesture was no longer
Mountsord,
but another Person; there the insipid soft Civility, the elegant and formal Mein, the drawling delicacy of Voice; the stately Flatness of his Address, and the empty Eminence of his Attitudes, were so nicely observed and guarded, that had he not been an entire Master of Nature, had he not kept his Judgment, as it were, a Centinel upon himself, not to admit the least Likeness of what he us'd to be, to enter into any Part of his Performance, he could not possibly have so compleately finish'd it. He was kill'd in the thirty-third Year of his Age; the Accidents that more particularly attended his Fall, are to be sound at large, in the Trial of the Lord
Mohun,
printed among
those
of the
State,
in
Folio.
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 78.
Sandsord
was what Mr.
Cibber, sen.
calls the
Spagnolet
of the Theatre: An excellent Actor in disagreeable Characters; that is, he was the Stage Villain; but this happen'd not so much by his own Choice as Necessity; for having a low crooked Person, such bodily Defects were too strong to be admitted into great and amiable Characters; so that in any new or reviv'd Play, if there was a hateful or mischievous one,
Sandsord
had no Competitor for it. This personating of bad Characters requir'd as much Art and Judgment, as to have
shone
into the
Applause
of the
Spectators
by all the
Throws
and
Swellings of Ambition,
yet it was attended with this Dilemma, that an Audience never expected to see him in any other: Nay, so far was this Prejudice carried which Mr.
Cibber
has heard was Fact: A new Play came on the Stage, in which
Sandford
play'd an honest Statesman; the Pit sat out three or four Acts in a quiet Expectation; that the Honesty of
Sandford
should, from his diffembling it, (for they thought him a Rogue at the Bottom)
animate the Scenes to come with Confusion:
But finding him in Truth an
honest Statesman,
they fairly damn'd the Play,
as if the Author had impos'd on them a most fruitless Absurdity.—
This
oral Tradition
has in it a Proof (as ali oral Traditions have) that much Faith is requir'd in the Reader: Might not the last Act in this Play have some other
Catastrophe
in it than
Sandford
's proving an honest Statesman?—No, so the Story was heard, and so it must be believ'd.
—Credat Judaeus Apella
Non ego.
From
Sandford
's being so successful a Stage Villian, the inferior Actors thought his Success owing to the Defects of his Person, and from thence, when they appear'd as
Bravo
's, and Murderers, made themselves as frightful and inhuman Figures as possible.—In King
Charles
's Time, says our
ane
doring Apologist,
this low Skill was carried to such Extravagance, that the King, who was black brow'd, and of a swarthy Complexion, pass'd a pleasant Remark on observing the grim Murderers in
M
cbeth,
when turning to his People in the Box, he said,
Pray what is the Meaning that we never see a Rogue in a Play, but, God'sfish, they clap him on a black Periwig? When it is well known one of the greatest Rogues in the Kingdom always wears a fair one.—
The King's Observation, says Mr.
C. Cibber,
was just, tho' the King had been as fair as
Adonis.—
What Complexion that pretty Fellow
Adonis
had, I will not determine; yet I know not how it is, or what
Ideas
People conceive of
Black;
but it certainly has a very
Horror-moving Aspect:
It may be a
Trick
of the
Stage,
and as such laugh'd at, for I allow very great Rascals may have very
black Hearts,
who wear very fair Perukes: Mr.
C. Cibber
thinks his swarthy Majesty alluded to some great Man out of Power, and leave them to
guess at
him, who
remember the changing Complexion of his Ministers.—
This charming Observation shows the Folly of Allusion; for suppose
Some-body
now living, 1740, had said the said Sentence, who among the present Ministry would dare six on a Man who wore a light Wig: Their Eyes might indeed naturally be converted to that great Man who wore the greatest light-colour'd Wig, and so might guess at him—who was a very honest Man.—But tho' political
ministerial Inuendoes
may be very justly prov'd to mean something, yet theatrical Inuendoes are a mere
Inanity of Thought.—
But to digress from this Digression,—and to enter into another.—Many Actors and Actresses have made it a Point to play a Character flatly written, because they stood in the favourable Light of Honour and Virtu
.—A Lady,
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology. p. 56.
Mr.
Cibber, sen.
says, who was a
Damoselle de Plasir
on the Stage, acted a Part of impregnable Chastity, and bid the Ladies
Study to live the Character I play.
Yet this good Creature made
Faut Paux;
she had some illegitimate Issue, and her Chastiry off the Stage was not impregnable. Many are the same Kind of theatric Prudes now living, who are like enough to think that to seem virtuous is sufficient for an Audience, and would make it a Point to be for half an hour most pure Virgins on the Stage, whatever kind, coming, dear consenting Creatures they might prove after the Curtain had drop'd.—I could enumerate some
dainty
modern Proofs of this theatric Prudery; but give me Leave to change an old Apothegm
De vivis nil nisi bonum.
To return to
C. Cibber
's Description of
Sandford;
his
'Manner of Speaking vary'd from those before describ'd: His Voice was acute, and had a piercing Tone, which scruck every Syllable distinctly upon the Ear, and in his Look he mark'd to an Audience what he thought worth more thon their ordinary Notice: Had he liv'd in
Shakespear
's Time, I am confident his Judgment must have chose him to have play'd
Richard
ill, for without considering his Person; he had an un
outh Stateliness in his Motion; a harsh sullen Pride in his Speech; a meditating Brow; a stern Aspect, occasionally changing into an almost l
dicrous Triumph over Goodness and Virtue: from thence falling into a most assuasive Sullenness and soothing Candoar of a designing Heart.'
This Actor Mr.
C. Cibber
inmated closely, and hit his Manner so true in
Richard the Third,
that Sir
John Vanbrugh
said, on his playing that Part,
—You have his very Look, Gait, and Speech, and every Motion of him; and have borrowed them all only to serve you in that Character.—
They who remember Mr.
Cibber
in that Part have a Copy of
Sandsord:
—Ex pede Herculem.—
To describe the low Comedians, Mr.
Cibber
makes a peculiar Apology, yet thus, after it is over, he goes on:
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 85.
N
kes
had a Genius different from any
read, heard of,
or
seen, since
or
before
his Time; his Excellence a plain palpable Simplicity of Nature, that he was as unaccountably diverting in his common Speech as on the the Stage. This Simplicity, so easy to
Nokes,
no one could ever catch:
Leigh
and
Underhill
have been well copied, though not equall'd, by others: But not all the mimical Skill of
Estcourt,
nor my own, could reach the
vis Comica
of
Nokes,
though I never saw an Actor beside himself whom I could not at least so far imitate as to give a more than tolerable Notion of his Manner.—The Characters he shone in were,
Sir Martin Mar-all, Gomez
in the
Spanish Fryar,
Sir
Nicholas Cully
in
Love in a Tub, Sofia
in the
Amphitrion, &c. &c. &c.—
This was the Effect of his Action; he never entered the Stage but he was receiv'd with an
involuntary Applause,
not by Hands, for they might be
prostituted
and
bespoken,
but by a Laughter
(which if bespoken could not be prostituted)
which his Sight provok'd, and Nature could not resist:—His Person was of the middle Size; his Voice clear; his natural Countenance grave and sober; when he spoke, that seriousness of Joakery was discharg'd, and a dry drolling Levity took such full Possession of him, that I can only refer the Idea of him to your Imagination: In his low Characters that became it, he had a shuffling Shame in his Gait, with so contented an Ignorance in his Aspect, and aukward Absurdity in his Gesture, that had you not known him, you could not have believ'd he had a Grain of common Sense. In a word, I am tempted to sum up the Character of
Nokes,
as a Comedian, in a Parody of what
Shakespear
's
Mark Antony
says of
Brutus
as a Heroe,
His Life was Laughter, and the
Ludicrous
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the World—
This was an
Actor.
Leigh
was of the mercurial Kind, not a strict Imitator of Nature; yet not so wanton in his Performance as to be wholly out of her Sight: In Humour he lov'd to take a full Career, but was careful to stop short when just upon the Precipice: He so excell'd in the
Spanish F
yar,
that the Duke of
Dorset
had his Picture drawn in a whole Length in that Character by
Kneller,
and the whole Portrait is extremely like him: He was much admir'd by King
Charles,
who us'd to call him
his Actor.—
He died of the Fever a Week after
Montford,
in
December
1692.
Underhill
was a natural Comedian, whose Excellence lay in Characters of still Life, the stiff, t
e heavy, and the stupid; in some of these he look'd as if it were not in the Power of human Passions to alter a Feature of them: A Countenance of Wood could not be more fix'd than his, when the Blockhead of a Character required it: His Face was full and long; from his Crown to End of his Nose was the shorter Half of it; so that the Disproportion of his lower Features, when soberly composed, with an
unwandering Eye
hanging over them, threw him into the most lumpish moping Mortal that ever made Beholders merry; not but at other Times he could be awaken'd into Spirit equally ridiculous:—In the coa
se rustick Humour of Justice
Clodpole
in
Epsom Wells
he was a
delightful Bru
e.
His Age oblig'd him to leave the Stage some Years before he died; he appeared once indeed in a Part he had been famous for, the
Grave-digger
in
Hamlet,
but ceasing to be what he had been, his Infirmities were dismiss'd with Pity: He soon after died a superannuated Pensioner of the Theatre. Thus far Mr.
C. Cibber.
The Characters of these Actors are an Extract from the Apology of Mr.
C. Cibber,
and were the Impressions he receiv'd in his Youth: How far he may, or may not entertain a Prejudice from thence, I shall not here examine: They might be so very excellent, as he says of
Betterion,
to excell themselves: But might not as great Descriptions be given of the chief Performers in
Hart
and
Mo
un
's Company by some other Historian? Or might not some
modern
History give much such Characters of our
present Actors
who are most in Vogue with the Town? Surely such an Attempt might not
regret
the present or the future Reader: I shall therefore in a future Chapter undertake so bold a Province, though the
Flatness
of my Characters may be
unequal
to those of the great Apologist, which are said to be of the
prosound Sublime:
The same Liberty which I have taken with Mr.
Cibber
's Gentlemen I shall take with his Ladies, and for the same Reason I have before given: After saying
Powell, Verbruggen,
and
Williams
were not worth speaking of, he comes to
Mrs.
Barry,
who was in Possession of most of the chief Parts of Tragedy: How she excell'd in them you may judge from Mr.
Dryden
's saying in his Preface to
Cleomenes,
she had gain'd a Reputation beyond any Woman he had seen on the Stage; which Mr.
Cibber
corroborates with his own Judgment. Mrs.
Barry,
it seems, did not arrive at this Maturity of Power and Judgment till she was more than a little past her Youth; whence our Apologist observes, that the
short Life of 'Beauty is not long enough to form a complete Actress.
The Fame Mrs.
Barry
arriv'd to, is a Proof of the Difficulty in judging with Certainty whether any young People will ever make any great Figure in a Theatre; for Mrs.
Barry
was discharg'd at the End of the Year as an useless Expence. Mrs.
Oldfield
had been above a Year before she gave any Hope of her being an Actress, so unlike to all Manner of Propriety was her speaking: But however, both made themselves complete Mistresses of their Art, by the Prevalence of their Understanding."
Mrs.
Barry,
in Characters of Greatness, had a Presence of elevated Dignity; her Mein and Motion, superb, and gracefully majestic; her Voice full, clear, and strong, so that no Violence of Passion could be too much for her: And when Distress or Tenderness possessed her, she subsided into the most affecting Melody and Softness: Of the former of these Excellencies she gave the most delightful Prooss in all the heroic Plays of
Dryden
and
Lee;
and in the latter, in the softer Passions of
Otway
's
Monimia
and
Belvidera.
In Scenes of Anger, Defiance, and Resentment, while she was impetuous and terrible, she pour'd out the Sentiment with enchanting
Harmony.
She was the first Person whose merit was distinguished by the Indulgence of having an annual
Benefit Play,
which was granted to her in King
James
the 2d's Time, and became not in common to others till the Division of the Company after the Death of King
William
's Queen
Mary:
This great Actress died toward the latter End of Queen
Ann:
The Year, says our Historian, you may guess at, by an Expression which fell from her in Blank Verse when she was delirious:
Ha! ha! and so they make us Lords by Dozens!
Mrs.
Betterton
was, in the Year 1690, when Mr
Cibber senior
first came upon the Stage, far advanc'd in Years, yet so great a Mistress of Nature, that even Mrs.
'Barry,
who acted Lady
Macbeth
after her, could not, in that Part, with her superior Strength and Melody of Voice, throw out those quick and careful Strokes of Terror from the Disorder of a guilty Mind, which the other gave us with a Facility in her Manner, that rendered them at once tremendous and delightful: Time could not impair her Skill, though it had brought her Person to Decay: She was to the last the Admiration of all true Judges of Nature and
Shakespear,
in whose Plays she chiefly excell'd without a Rival: She was a Woman of an unblemish'd sober Life, and had the Honour to teach Queen
Anne,
when Princess, the Part of
Semandra
in
Mith
idates,
which she acted at Court in K—g
Charles
's Time: After the Death of Mr.
,
her Husband, that
Princess,
when
Que
n,
order'd her a Pension for Life, but she liv'd not to receive but one half Year of it.
Mrs.
Leigh,
the Wife of Mr.
Leigh
the Comedian before-mentioned, had a droll Way of dressing the pretty Folbles of superannuated Beauties: She had in herself a good Deal of Humour, and knew how to infuse it into the affected Mothers, Aunts, and affected sta
e Maids, that had
miss'd their Market:
In these she was extremely entertaining, and
painted,
in a
lively Manner,
the
blind Side
of Nature.
Mrs.
Butler
was recommended to the Stage by King
Charles:
She was the Daughter of a decay'd Knight, and proved a good Actress, and was besides in those Days allowed to Sing and Dance in Perfection: In speaking her sweet-ton'd Voice, with her naturally genteel Air, and her sensible Pronunciation, rendered her wholly Mistress of the
Amiable
in many serious Characters: In Parts of Humour she had a Manner of blending her
assuasive Softness,
even with the Gay, the Lively, and Alluring; as in the second
Constantia
in the
Chances,
in which Mrs.
Oldfield
's lively Performance did not equal
ers: She having only 40 Shillings a Week, and being denied the Addition of ten more, she went with Mr.
Ashbury
to
Dublin,
who offered her any Conditions.
Mrs.
Montford,
whose second Marriage gave her the Name of
Verbruggen,
was a Mistress of more Variety of Humour than I ever knew in any one Woman Actress: This Variety was attended with equal Vivacity, which made her excellent in Characters extremely different. Nothing, though ever so barren, if within the bounds of Nature, could be
flat in her Hands:
She was fond of Humour, in what low Part s
ver found, and would make no Scruple of defacing her fair Form to come heartily into it; for when she was eminent in several desirable Characters of Wit and Humour, she would descend from high Life into low Characters with as much Fancy as when triumphing in all the Airs and vain Gr
ces of a fine Lady: In a Play of
D'urfey
's, call'd the
Western Lass,
which Part she acted, she transformed her whole Being, Body, Shape, Voice, Language, Look, and Features into almost another Animal, with a strong
Devonshire
Dialect, a broad laughing Voice, a poking Head, round Shoulders, an unconceiving Eye, and the most bedizz'ning dowdy Dress, that ever covered the untrain'd Limbs of a
Joan Troit.
To have seen her here you would have thought it had been impossible the same Creature could ever have been recovered, to what was easy to her, the gay, the lively and desirable. Nor was her Humour limited to her Sex, for while her Shape permitted, she was a more adroit
She was thought so excellent in these Characters and Dr
ss, that Mr.
Southern
wrote the Comedy call'd
Sir Anthony Love
(which Character she perform'd) on purpose for her.
pretty Fellow than is usually seen upon the Stage: Her easy Air, Action, Mein quite chang'd from the Coif to the cock'd Hat and Cavalier in Fashion. People were so fond of seeing her a Man, that when the Part of
Bays
in the
Rehearsal
had for some Time lain dormant, she was desired to take it up, which she acted with all true coxcombly Spirit and Humour, that the Sufficiency of the Character requir'd.
After an
Apology
which the
Apologist
makes for describing Mrs.
Bracegirdle
now living, he introduces her into his Apology, which is sufficient Authority for me to give an Abstract of that Paragraph in mine.
Mrs.
Bracegirdle
was now [1690]
blooming
to her
Maturity,
her Reputation as an Actress gradually rising with that of her Person: Never was any Woman in such general Favour, which to the last Scene of Dramatick Life she maintained by not being unguarded in her private Character.—This Discretion made her the
Cara,
the Darling of the Theatre: She had indeed no greater Claim to Beauty than the most desirable
Brunette
might pretend to; but her Youth and lively Aspect threw out such a Glow of Health and Chearfulness, that on the Stage few Spectators that
were not past it,
could behold her without
Desire.
In all the chief Parts she acted, the
Desirable was so pred
minant,
that
no Judge could be cold enough to consider from what other particular Excellence she became delightful.—
To speak critically of an Actress, extremely good, were as hazardous as to be positive in ones Opinion of the best
Opera Singer:
We can only appeal to
Taste,
and of
Taste
there can be no
disputing:
I shall therefore only say, that most eminent Authors always chose her for their favourite Character, and shall leave that Proof of her Merit to its own Value.
She retir'd from the Stage in the Height of her Favour, when most of her Cotemporaries she was bred up with were declining, in the Year 1710. She play'd once after the Part of
Angelica
in
Love for Love,
for the Benefit of her old Friend Mrs.
Betterton.
Here Mr.
Colley Cibber
closes his Account of these memorable Actors, of which I have given a Quotation of great Fidelity, as to the Matter of Fact chiefly contain'd; but many are the Prettinesses, Daintinesses, Rhetorical Flowers, vivisying Images, Floods of fine Language, and Rapidities of Wit, which are all like his
clear Emanation of Beauty,
they
strike
you into a
Regard
that has something different from
Respect.
As I am so greatly indebted to him for this Chapter, I shall follow my old Way, and, till we settle Accounts, still run myself more into his Books; therefore, what he says from his
Word
to the
critical Auditors,
I will borrow a
or
Two,
and then again
digress
to
myself.
"Th
s Account may inform or assist the Judgment of
uture Spectators, it may be of Service to their publick Entertainment
; for as their Hearers are, so will the Actors be, worse or better, as true or false Taste applauds or discommends them.
Hence only
can our Theatres improve or must degenerate: Yet there is another Point which I recommend to the Consideration, which is, that the extreme Severity with which they damn a bad Play, seems so terrible a Warning to those whose untry'd Genius might hereafter give them a good one: But the Vivacity of our modern Criticks is of late grown so riotous, an unsuccessful Author has no more Mercy shewn him than a notorious Cheat in the Pillory: Every Fool, the lowest Member of the Mob, becomes a Wit
this is the Case, while the Theatre is so turbulent a Sea, and so infested with Pirates, what Poetical Merchant of any Substance would venture to trade in it. In a Word, these Criticks seem to me like the Lions Whelps in the
Tower,
who are so
boisterously
gamesome at their Meals they dash down their Bowls of Milk brought for their own Breakfast."
I have a Word also to give to these critical Auditors, these
Lion-Cubs,
these
Pirates
in our Seas; but that will fall more naturally in some subsequent Chapter.
CHAP. VI.
A State of the Stage continu'd.
H AVING resolv'd to make these Memoirs in some Manner contain the
Utile Dulci,
what by Abstracts from Mr.
Cibber
's History, and what by my own History, the Readers will find a succinct Account of the Stage, from the Year 1660 to 1740. I shall not indeed prove so descanting an Author as that great Man, yet my compendious Breviary may be of some Use and Entertainment: Of his elaborate Lucubrations mine are but an Epitome: Let him be the
Trogus Pompeius
of the Stage, I am contented to be the
Justinus.
I am now entering into that Part of the History, where the Theatre fell frequently in Labour of Revolutions. In 1690 the Stage was under the Government of united Patentees, who had under them so compleat a Set of Actors as has been described: yet they were weak enough, or the Taste of the Publick was so weak, as to Force them to it, to exhibit Spectacle; and the Expences they were at in
Dioclesian
and
King Arthur
(though seemingly successful) were so great that they run into Debt, which found Work for the Court of Chancery twenty Years following: These Exhibitions of Spectacle made Plays of Course neglected, Actors hold 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 Humo
r and Contempt on the other. When it became necessary to lessen the Charge, Resolution was taken to begin with the Players Salaries.
Nokes, Montford
and
Leigh
all died this same Year, yet they chose rather to distress the surviving Actors than encourage them. To bring this about, some of
Betterton
's Parts were given to
Powell,
and some of Mrs.
Barry
's to Mrs.
Bracegirdle.—Powell
accepted
Betterton
's, but Mrs.
Bracegirdle
denied
Barry
's.
Betterton
on this form'd one Ass
ciation and the Patentees another. During these Contentions, Treaties of Peace were offered by the Actors, but haughtily refused by the other. The Publick, naturally more b
ass'd to the Actors, whom they see and are pleas'd by, than Patentees whom they never see, supported th
ir Interest; and Persons of the highest Distinction entertained the King in his Circle about Affairs of the Theatre. About this Time Queen
Mary
died, and on such Occasion
all publick Diversions cease.
Betterton
and his Adherents had now Leisure to sollicit Redress, and collected a Company, the Patentees being forced to a
cept such Actors as were the Leavings of
Betterton.
On this the Patentees engag'd
Powell
and
Verbr
gg
n,
and rais'd them from two to four Pounds a Week; and besides the other Leavings were Mr.
C. Cibber;
yet they were forc'd to recruit, and beat up for Volunteers in distant Counties, which brought
Johnson
and
Bull
ck
into the Service of the Theatre Royal: Forces thus rais'd, they open'd the Campaign:
Betterton
by Subscription at the
Lincolns-Inn-Fields Tennis-Court,
the Pa
n
ees at
Drury-Lane,
who took the Field first, Mr.
Ci
ber
writing their opening Prologue, having no better Poet:
"That memorable Day being, as he says, the Day his Muse brought forth her first Fruit that was ever made publick; how good or how bad imports not, but he receiv'd for it two Guineas, not being suffered to speak it himself."
The Patentees went on but lamely against the new Colony of Actors, who were like the Common-wealth of
Holland
divided from the Tyranny of
Spain:—
But the Simile, according to the Apologist, is but very little farther a Simile, for they found in a short Time they were never worse govern'd than when govern'd by themselves: They began to consult private Interest more than the general Good; and though some Deserence was paid to
Betterton,
several wanted to govern in their Turns:—
C. Cibber
's Apology.
But is not the same Infirmity in States?—Dogget
could not with Patience look on the
costly Trains
and
Plumes of Tragedy,
in
which
knowing himself to be useless, he though a vain Extravagance; which when he could not oppose he came over to
Drury-Lane.—Betterton
's Company began at last to lose Ground, nor was
Drury-Lane
Company in very great Prosperity; yet the Patentees had found out a Remedy against a thin House,
viz.
Ditto,
p. 134
Never to pay their People when the Money did not come in, nor then neither but in such Proportion as suited their Conveniency.
Such was the Fortune of both Companies, when our
Mr.
R—b,
Father of the present Master of
C—Garden
Theatre.
Master, who had practis'd the Law, and therefore loved a Storm better than fair Weather, thinking the Quality rather prefer'd the other Company than ours, resolv'd to ingratiate himself with their Domesticks, and open'd a Gallery for the Footmen
gratis,
who were never before admitted into it till the fourth Act was over: This he thought would get us a good Word in their respective Families, and incite them to come all Hands aloft into the Crack of our Applauses. Hence arose this Custom, which ripen'd into Right, and became the most disgraceful Nusance that ever depreciated a Theatre.
About this Time Mr.
Wilks
came from the
Dub
in
Company to
Drury-Lane Theatre:
He first commenced an Actor by performing in a private Play at
Dublin,
of which Country he was a Native: He had been on
Drury-Lane
Stage before, but qu
tted it to go to
Ireland,
not rising
n Parts there according to his Ambition: On his Return, in 1696,
Montford
was dead, and
Powell
in his chief Parts, and the only Actor that stood in
Wilks
's Way: They soon became avowed Rivals, and without quoting their every Quarrel for Parts, be it sufficient to say, that
Wilks
by Industry, Care, and Sobriety, gain'd the Favour of the Publick, which
Powell,
with more Merit, by his Neglect and Intemperance forseited.
On this Narration the Apologist observes, that an Actor is disesteemed or favoured on the Stage, more or less, according as he has or has not a due Regard to his
private Life
and
Reputation:
Nay,
false Reports
shall affect him, and become the
Cause
or
Pretence
of using him injuriously: He gives this Instance in Regard to himself.
"
C. Cib
r
's Apology, p. 141.
After the Success of the
Beggars Opera,
I was so stupid to attempt, the following Year, something of the same Kind, on a quite different Foundation, to recommend Virtue and Innocence: My newfangled Performance was call'd,
Love in a Riddle,
and was as vilely damn'd and hooted at, as so vain a Presumption in the idle cause of Virtue cou'd deserve: I will grant the
Beggars Opera
had more skilfully gratify'd the publick Taste than all the brightest Authors before him. The same Author wrote a Second Part to his
Beggars Opera,
and transported his Heroe beyond Sea; but this was forbid to come on the Stage. Soon after this Prohibition
my
Performance
was
to come on the Stage: Great Umbrage was taken that I was permitted to have the whole Town to m
self, by this absolute Forbiddance of what they had more Mind to be entertain'd with. And some Days before my Bawble was acted, I was inform'd a strong Party would be made against it: A Report, it seems had ran against me, that to make Success for my own Play, I had privately found Means or Interest that the Second Part of the
Beggars
Opera should be suppress'd; as if I, a Comedian, had been of Consequence enough to influence a great Officer of State to rob the Publick of an innocent Diversion
(if it were such)
that none but that cunning Comedian might entertain them:—But against
blind
Malice, and
staring
Inhumanity, whatever is upon the Stage has no Defence! There they knew I stood helpless and expos'd.—I had not consider'd,
poor Devil,
that from the Security of a full Pit Dunces might become Wits, Cowards valiant, and Prentices Gentlemen. Whether such were concern'd in the Murder of my Play I am not certain; I never endeavour'd to discover any of my Assassins; I cannot afford them a better Name, from their unmanly Manner of destroying it: It faintly held up its wounded Head till the second Day, and would have spoke for Mercy, but was not suffered: The Presence of the Royal Heir apparent could not protect it. I therefore, to stop their Clamour, quitted the Actor for the Author, and told them,
That since they were not inclined this Play should go farther, I gave them my Word that after this Night it should never be acted again; but that in the mean Time I hoped they would consider in whose Presence they were, and for that Reason at least would suspend what farther Marks of Displeasure they might think I had deserved.—
After a dead Silence and some little Pause, some few 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 met with Applause—But it came too late:
Peace to its Manes.
Now tho' this was the only Tumult that I had known to have been so effectually appeas'd, in fifty Years, by any Thing that could be said to an Audience in the same Humour; yet it was no Merit in me, because, when like me you submit to their doing you all the Mischief they can, they will at any Time be satisfied."
I have been more particular in the Length of this Question, as it contains a curious Anecdote on damning
Love in a Riddle,
and carries this Moral, that a
Suspicion
of an Actor's doing a
base Action,
may lay him open to very
severe
and
unjust
Punishments from an
Audience:
This unjust Treatment, not three Seasons ago, became a certain Actor's Fortune to meet: The Affair was of a
private Nature,
and therefore was thought a
publick Audience
had no Right to take it under their Cognizance: The Affair was this.
There was a certain Lady,—a very fine Lady,—to whom an Actor was once so fatally ally'd that the Law gave her a Privilege to call him Husband.—Husband!—O fatal Name! This Lady was young, beautiful, sensible, and virtuous when this Actor fell in Love with her: She had appear'd on the Stage as a
Singer,
and was esteem'd an admirable one. This Actor, who was at that Time at the Head of the theatric
Revolution,
which brought back the old
Drury-Lane
Actors to their old House at
Drury-Lane,
thought this young Woman had so much of the
amiable
and
virtuous
in her, that without any other Consideration, made her his Wife. What connubial Love and Harmony subsisted sometime between them, those only can judge of whose Hearts have felt the inexpressible Delights of a sincere and mutual Union.—But alas, how short is all human Happiness!—The Lady began to grow more cool in her Affections to her Husband than her Duty, her Honour, or her Interest, ought to have suffer'd her.—Her Heart was estrang'd, and foreign Inclinations contaminated her Soul.—What can be said, when so much Innocence should plunge suddenly and rashly into Vice!—But alas!
Frailty, thy Name is Woman!
This domestic Unhappiness of the Actor brought on others: Negligent of every Thing, his Affairs grew worse, and he was at last compell'd to banish himself to another Kingdom, till Measures were taken to make his Creditors easy. During his Absence this bad Woman carried on a Correspondence of the most criminal Nature, and spread every false Report to injure him in the tenderest Point, his Honour, that witty Malice could invent, or the damnedst Fiend perpetrate; it was reported her
Husband
was not only
privy
to, but the
willing, procuring, pandering Promoter
of her Crimes, and
his own
Infamy.—Good God!—What will not Iniquity suggest, and Uncharitableness believe?—Although
Vide
Motto to Letters from a Husband to a Wife,
&c.
publish'd by Mr.
T. C.
It is a Kind of Slander to trust Rumour.
Yet this vile Notion too far prevail'd, as you will immediately see.—The Season of acting was now pretty far advanc'd, and this Actor, as returned to his Employment, was to do his Duty, and get his Livelyhood at the Theatre. The Night came on he was to appear; and tho' it had been bruited about the Town, that because he was a
willing Cuckold,
there was a very
virtuous Party
form'd to drive him off the Stage, and not suffer him to appear again; he paid little Regard to this Rumour, conscious of his Innocence. But the poor Devil found himself mistaken. The House was very early crowded, and the harmonious discordant Concert of
Catcals, Whistle, &c. &c.
began to play before the Curtain drew up.—Well,—though the Actors were all frighten'd, the Play began with Calmness and Applause; but this was only a Prelude to the Battle: When the Scene came in which he was to appear, there was a dead Silence, till he popp'd his poor Head from behind the Scenes, then at once the Hurley-Burley began, Volleys of Apples and Potatoes, and such vile Trash, flew about his Ears. He retir'd, the Storm subsided; he advanc'd, it began again.—In the most humble Gesture and Address, he made a Motion to be heard; it was all in Vain, and he was once more pelted off.—But what can describe, in those dreadful Moments, the Anguish of his Heart? Who can conceive the various Agitations of his Soul?—Grief, Rage, Resentment, Horror, Despair mix'd with Resolution, were all at once fermenting in his Bosom.—But determin'd to go through the Play, he went through it amidst the greatest Uproar that ever was heard so long a Space in a Theatre, and by a confident Heart he surmounted what many of less Resolution would have sunk under.
For some time after, every Joke in a Part he himself spoke, or if, when he was on the Stage, any Thing was said that alluded to Cuckoldom, the Joke was made allusive to him, and the Audience had their Laugh. This could be born, and he knew it would die away of itself. But on a Trial in Relation to his Wife's Infamy, something gave Offence to a noble
C. M
ret—n.
Colonel
in the Army, who, to revenge a suppos'd Affront, raised a
Posse
against the
Actor,
and from the Boxes began a new Attack, and were determin'd he should appear no more on the Stage, till he had given the Gentleman Satisfaction, by making a publick Recantation: All Attempts were made to get over this; some of the
Royal Family
came, but their Presence was not thought of Sanction enough to curb the Insolence of
some People,
and an
obscure Thing
of an
Actor
performing his Part. He was at last forc'd, out of prudential Reasons, not from any Conviction of his Error, to give the Colonel the Satisfaction of a publick Recantation; and so that Affair drop'd.
I could enumerate several other Instances of
my own,
where my private Conduct and Character have laid me under a publick Censure; but as the two Instances I have quoted are the most material, and fresh in every one's Memory, they may be thought sufficient to prove that the Publick, or rather some of the Publick, will assume a Liberty over a Player's private Life and Actions.
But now,
Reader,
let your Memory return some Page or two back, and, to carry on a Connection, remember the Reason why
Wilks
gain'd a Superiority over
Powell
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 151.
"There are other Instances, says the apologetical Historian, of the Reward and Favour which in a Theatre, Diligence and S
briety seldom fail:
Mills
the elder, grew into the Friendship of
Wilks,
with not a great deal more than their useful Qualities to recommend him: With this Assiduity, and this Friendship, he was advanc'd to a larger Salary than any Man-Actor, during my Time on the Stage The Contempt and Distresses of
Powel
struck
Booth
with such a Terror of his Example, that though he had been a frank Lover of his Bottle, he immediately reform'd, for which, both in his Fame and Fortune, he enjoy'd the Reward and Benefit."
I must here add a living Instance of what Care and indefatigable Industry will do: The younger
Mills,
not to take from him the Merit he has, is not equal to the late Mr.
Mills:
When he was a young Actor he followed his Father's Steps, and being endow'd with a prodigious Memory, would get Parts of very great Length, which then he had not a distant View of ever performing: This Talent, and his Application to his Business, made him, in a Course of Time, become
useful,
which in a Theatre is the best Recommendation. On his succeeding to many of Mr.
Wilks
's Parts, the Town look'd on him in a very indifferent Light; but his being always thoroughly perfect, and improving by Encouragement and Application, many Prejudices insensibly wore away, and now he is seen in Mr.
Wilks
's Parts not without Approbation.
I must here speak of
myself:
When I first came on the Stage the Town had very little Hopes of me, nor did I fling out the
Proffer
of any
great Genius,
yet I was industrious and observant of my Business on the Stage, and did all in my Power to become any Way
useful.
I remember, that for Want of a better Performer, I undertook to be the
Harlequin,
and as few knew who it really was, I was received with more Applause than I could have imagin'd; sufficient enough, if I had not had an inborn Contempt for such
Mummery,
to have rais'd my Vanity: Nor was this my only Success in
Pantomime;
every one who remembers
Doctor Faustus
at
Drury-Lane,
must remember the
Statue:
All the Pantomimical Motions of this magic Statue had a good Effect in that Scene; they surpriz'd, they elevated, they pleas'd, and were applauded: I had the Honour to animate that
Statue,
yet as the Applause I receiv'd was false, I receiv'd it not as a Tribute to the Merit of an Actor, but the Tricks of a
Scaramouch,
or
Sadler
's
Wells Tumbler:
As I had set my Father, and other first Rate Actors for my
Exemplar,
before my Eyes, I had Ambition enough to attempt their Parts, and say to Posterity,
Exegi monumentum aere perennius.
I have from this Principle all along push'd forward for the Goal of
theatric Fame,
and throughout my Character, as an Actor, have kept to the
sibi constet;
for what other Failures and Follies soever I might be guilty
propria persona,
yet in my
persona personata
on the Stage, I have done every Endeavour to please; nor can my Enemies say that I ever came before an Audience imperfect, or inebriated: If I have sometimes mistook my Talents, and appear'd in Characters to which I was unequal, I hope and believe the Candour of the Town will excuse that
Ambition,
if in some others I give them any Pleasure.
To digress from this
Apology
to my theatric
chronological History,
to understand which, after so many intervening Paragraphs, see the succinct Account. From 1660 to 1684, the
King
and
Duke
's Companies had various Fortunes till they united: After that, the Actors Characters in 1690 are given; a Revolution happen'd again in 1695, and after various Changes of
theatric Ministers, Stage Cabals, Patentee Oppressions,
(too numerous to be extracted from Mr.
C. Cibber
's History, as they consist chiefly of
Chit-Chat,
and
l'Amusements
and
Gayete de Ceur)
they
united
at the
Union
C. Cibber
's Apology.
.—
"
Hold, let me see.—Ay, it was so: I am right in my Chronology,
for the Play of
Hamlet
being play'd, soon after,
Estionst,
who then took upon him to say any Thing, added a fourth Line to
Shakespear
's Prologue to the Play in that Play, which originally consisted but of three; but
Estionst
made it run thus.
"For us, and for our Tragedy,
"
Thus
stooping to your Clemency,
"
[This being a Year of Unity]
"We beg your Hearing patiently.
The private
Policies, Law-Suits, Conversations,
&c. &c. &c. I pass over, and come to the
Patent
which was granted to Mr.
Colley Cibber,
Mr.
Wilks,
Mr.
Booth,
and Sir
Richard Steele,
after the Accession of his late Majesty, not only for the Reason I mention'd before, but because I have much to say in my
own History
of the same Kind on those Subjects in which I was the
Vide C. Cibber
's Account of
Wilks.
Bustle Master-General,
as
Wilks
had been some few Years before: And if in my Relations there are any close Resemblances of Passages to Mr.
Cibber
's Apology, I shall continue to quote them, to illustrate mine, as I before promis'd.
Well then, in the Year 1718, the Patent was given, whereby the Stage came under the sole Management of
three Actors,
and a
Gentleman
who had long been acquainted with theatric Affairs. Under this
auspicious Triumvirate, . . . . A
new
theatric golden Age arose.
Redeunt Saturnia Regna.
An acting
Author
now was a Judge of Dramatic
Authors.
Tuus jam regnat Apollo.
Oh, ye Gods! give me, give me, this great Boon.
That I o'er Bards may rule, and rule alone.
Then may I follow my great Examplar
—Passibus Aequis:
O mihi tam longae maneat pars ultima Vitae
Spiritus & quantum sat erit
MEA
dicere facta,
Non me Carminibus, &c.
Quo me
BACCHE
rapis tui plenus, &c.
Gentle Reader, you will excuse this Rhapsody when I tell you I am writing it at One o'Clock this Morning, the 20th of
May,
1740, after hearing something relating to
Drury-Lane,
of which you may hear more hereafter. But to the Patentee-Actors let us turn our View: They had now gain'd all they wished for, as to their
Power
and
Management
at
Drury-Lane:
But at the same Time the present Mr.
Rich
's House in
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields
was opened, which not only terrified the Managers at
Drury-Lane,
but was in fact, for a great Time, a Draw-back to their Profits; however, both Patents have since subsisted a Company with various Fortune: I find nothing after of any Consequence in the theatric History worthy of Notice during the Triumvirate: They long went forward in a settled Course of Prosperity, which Mr.
Cibber
attributes to their
"
C. Cibber
's Apology.
visible Errors of former Managements; from them they at last found the necessary Means to bring our private Laws and Orders into a general Observance and Approbation of our Society. Diligence and Neglect were under an equal Eye, the one never fail'd of its Reward, and the other, by being rarely excused, was less frequently committed."
Yet sure there must be some Partiality in these Menagers, and some Jealousy of young Actors; for several whom they slighted became at the other. Stage good Actors, and were in high Esteem with a great Part of the Town; and several in their own House have since been thought excellent, who in their Menagement seldom or ever appear'd. But Appearance, as well as Applause, is the
warm Weather
of a
Theatrical Plant.
This Observation, and several others, will show that I write as an Historian ought, without Favour or Affection.
One Reformation which the
Apologist.
and his
Co-Rulers
introduced deserves Attention, as the present Stages stand in need of such another.
"
Ditto.
Among other necessary Reformations, says he, what not a little preserv'd to us the Regard of our Auditors was the Decency of our clear Stage, from whence we had many Years shut out those idle Gentlemen, who seem'd more delighted to be pretty Objects themselves, than capable of any Pleasure from the Play: Who took their daily Stands where they might best Elbow the Actor, and come in for their Share of the Auditor's Attention. In many a labour'd Scene of the warmest Humour, and of the most affecting Passion, have I seen the best Actors disconcerted, while these buzzing Muscatoes have been fluttering round their Eyes and Ears. How was it possible an Actor so embarrass'd should keep his Impatience from entering into that different Temper, which his personated Character might require him to be Master of."
This Nusance of having Crouds behind our Scenes is now as intolerable as ever, both to the judicious Spectator and careful Player; and nothing but the
Auri Sacra Fames
of the
Managers
would induce them to indulge such an Abuse of the Stage: They may say indeed it has been so long a Custom that young Gentlemen of Distinction will not be denied, nor is it their Interest to deny them.—Pray good Master Manager let me ask you a Question:—Will a
dozen Crowns
compensate the Affront given to a whole Audience of a hundred or a hundred and fifty Pounds? Will or can a few young Men of Quality support your Interest like the Ladies in the Boxes, the Gentlemen of the Inns of Court in the Pit, or the more grave Citizens in the first Gallery?—Well, but you answer, if such a Custom was now denied, there would be
Uproars
in the House, which of late have been of such fatal Consequence, that it would be dangerous to hazard them again.—That might be,
Sirs,
as your Conduct prov'd: It has been experienc'd, if you give proper Notice to the Town,
None will be admit
ed behind the Scenes,
and your Servants execute those Orders with the greatest Complaisance, yet determined Resolution, the Evil might be soon remedied, as it is an Evil which no Pretence can defend, and all the Town will support an Alteration of: The Spectators would think themselves injured as well as you; and the Town very lately supported a Manager in suppressing another Nusance, the noisy Insolence and Impertinence of the
Footmen:
In short, were they resolved to give up a few
pecuniary Pittances,
they might, in a Week, keep the Scenes as clear from these Squirts and Puffs of Foplings as ever. Besides, as
Ars est Celare artem,
it would be politick not to let them see the
Backside of our Tapestry;
for many an Actor and Actress may seem but ordinary Stuff on strict Examination, who from a front Prospect on the Stage may seem very well: Mr.
Rich,
indeed, when his own important Action is depending, has some Regard to this Rule, and the Scenes are kept clear because Persons then admitted might impede the
Scenery;
and the
Beaus
and
Impertinents
are satisfied with this Reason.—Is not then the Reason the same in Relation to the Actors, and the Scenery of a Play, as to a Pantomime:
—Res ipsa loquitur.—
This Nusance is besides a Disencouragement to an Actor's Performance; for when all who appear well dress'd are admitted behind the Scenes, may it not, as it has sometimes happen'd, give an Opportunity to a Monster dire, hated by Gods and Men, a
Catchpole
call'd, under this Form, to touch, with magic Spell, the Shoulder-Blade of some plum'd buskin'd Heroe, and
—O! vile Shame!—
compulsive force him into
Durance base;
where, by coercive Power, he is restrain'd, till Bail of Manager shall set him free.—Such Apprehensions must alarm an Actor who may not be the best Oeconomist; and I am sure I have often seen Faces that have given me the Palpitation of the Heart.
Mr.
Cibber
complains justly of another Distress the Managers of a Theatre are under, which, as I have myself experienc'd when I was the deputed Manager for
Summer
Companies at
Drury-Lane,
and a real one at the
Theatre
in the
Hay-Market,
I shall consider this Particular There is no greater Persecution in the Government of a Playhouse, than the Persecution of
bad Authors:
The Managers think their Case hard, and the Authors think so of theirs: Indeed it would move Pity when an ingenious Indigent has been labouring,
invita Minerva,
to heap up a Pile of Stuff which he calls Poetry, and to depend on it for more Months Support than he has been scribbling it, yet after all to find it rejected. But though rejected in the mildest Manner, and for the justest Cause, yet the Manager must fall under severe Censure, and can have no Taste for good Writing, nor knows what is Sense: He must be a Blockhead convict: Out comes an Epigram or a Satire, and we are stigmatiz'd as Fools, because we will not exhibit a Piece which we are sure we must loose by. But, pray, if we have Pity for a Gentleman's Circumstances, is our good Nature to carry us such Lengths as will injure ourselves? No.
Charity begins at home;
and I see no Reason why a theatrical Trader should not have the same Privilege as his Majesty's other Liege Subjects in Trade, to buy or refuse what he pleases: The Managers ought to be allowed this Liberty of judging Plays,
&c.
before they are brought on the Stage; for when they are brought on, the Audience will claim the Freedom of judging of them as they think proper: They damn many which are brought on, but they would have nothing else to do the Year throughout, were the Managers of a Theatre to exhibit all the theatrical Lumber which is brought to them: To give a Refusal to these Sparks is difficult, and practised differently by different Persons: Mr.
Wilks
would show the utmost Complaisance on these Occasions, and by paying the Author Compliments on his Piece, that there were many
pretty Things
in it, but it would not do as it stood then, or that it might be alter'd for the better: By this, I say, he sooth'd the Poet's Anger, who though he went not away satisfy'd, did not go away enrag'd. Mr.
C. Cibber
was more short: He return'd a Piece with,
It is not fit for our Stage,
Sir,
it is not Theatrical.—
Mr.
Rich
is more laconic still; for he only says, or writes,
—It will not do.—
Mr.
Fletewood
took a different Way from them all; he being a Gentleman of Rank by Birth, piqu'd himself on treating Authors as Gentlemen: He would see them, excuse his not having had Time to peruse their Pieces, treat them with great Deference, and desire them to call again:—Though this was a wrong Method, and gave him much unnecessa
y Trouble, yet, Courtier-like, he was pleased w
th a great Number of Dependants, to all of whom he gave as much Favour as he could, and when he had kept them in Suspence sometimes too long, he dismiss'd them with much Complaisance and good Nature.—As for myself, on such Occasions, I followed my Father's Track; if I read a Piece and found it was not
Theatrical,
I returned it to the Author, and told him so
roundly.
Perhaps the Spark, with a
mifty Air,
walk'd off and wrote against me: But what car'd I—
Demens Judicio Vulgi, Sanus Meo.
But the most pleasant Way of returning an Author a refus'd Play, was that of
Quin
's: This Anecdote is worth relating. When Mr.
James Quin
was a managing
under Mr.
Rich,
at
Lincolns-Inn-Fields,
he had a
Heap of Plays brought him, which he put in a Drawer in his Beauroe: An Author had given him a Play behind the Scenes, which I suppose he might lose, or mislay, not troubling his Head about it. Two or three Days after Mr.
Bayes
waited on him to know how he lik'd his Play:
Quin
told him some Excuse for its not being receiv'd, and the Author desir'd to have it
return'd.—
"There, says
Quin,
there it lies on that Table."—The Author took up a Play that was lying on a Table▪ but on op
ning found it was a
Comedy,
and
his
was a
Trag
dy,
and told
Quin
the Mistake:—
"Faith then, Sir, said he, I have lost your Play"
—Lost my Play!
cries the Bard—
"Yes by G—d I have, answer'd the Tragedian, but here is a Drawer full of both
Comedies
and
Tragedies,
take any
two
you will in the Room of it."
—The Poet left him in
high Dudgeon,
and the Heroe stalk'd across the Room to his
Spaw Water
and
Rhenish
with a negligent Felicity.
But to drop the Cutrain of this Chapter, which shall close with Mr.
Cibber
's last Speech.
"
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 345.
During our last four Years, there happen'd so very little like what has been said before, that I shall conclude with barely mentioning those unavoidable Accidents that drew on our Dissolution: The first that for some Years had led me the Way to greater, was the continued ill State of Health which render'd
Booth
incapable of appearing on the Stage. The next was the Death of Mrs.
Oldfield,
which happen'd on the 23d of
October,
1730. About the same Time Mrs.
Porter,
then in her highest Reputation for Tragedy, was lost to us by the Misfortune of a dislocated Limb, from the overturning of a Chaise; and our last Stroke was the Death of
Wilks,
in
September
the Year following, 1731.
Notwithstanding such irreparable Losses, whether, when these favourite Actors were no more to be had, their Successors might not be better born with than they could possibly have been while the other were in Being; or that the Generality of Spectators, from their Want of Taste, were easier to be pleased than the Few that knew better; or that at worst our Actors were still preferable to any other Company of the several then subsisting; or to whatever Cause it might be imputed, our Audiences were far less abated than our Apprehensions had suggested; so that tho' it began to grow late in Life with me, having still Health and Strength enough to have been as useful on the Stage as ever, I was under no visible Necessity of quitting it: But so it happen'd, that our surviving Fraternity having got some chimaerical, and, as I thought, unjust Notions into their Heads, which, though I knew they were without much Difficulty to be surmounted, I chose not, at my Time of Day, to enter into new Contentions; and as I found an Inclination in some of them to purchase the whole Power of the Patent into their own Hands, I did my best, while I stay'd with them, to make it worth their while to come up to
my Price,
and then
patiently
sold out my Share to the first Bidder, wishing the Crew I had left in the Vessel a good Voyage.
What Commotions the Stage sell into the Year following, or from what Provocations the greatest Part of the Actors revolted, and set up for themselves in the
Little Theatre
in the
Hay-Market,
lies not within the Province of my Title Page to relate: Or as it might set some Persons living in a Light they might possibly not chuse to be seen in, I will be rather thankful for the involuntary Favour they have done me, than trouble the Publick with private Complaints of fancied or real Injuries."
Thus ends Mr.
Colley Cibber
's History of his
own Times,
and from this
Aera
I shall, as a Supplement to his
Apology,
continue
mine.
The View of the Stage for Nine Years past, in which I have had a large Share of Action, may seem a proper
Appendix
to his more copious and laborious History.
But before I conclude this Chapter, I must do Justice to another compendiary Historian, old
Downes,
the Prompter, who has given the Characters of the Actors in 1706, the Year of the
Union.
There is a Particuliarity in his Stile and Manner, and a turgid Pompousness in his Epithets; yet it is not to be wondered at, having been so many Years conversant with
theatric Phrases,
and
elevated Elocution:
His Stile nor Manner are not copious and digressive as that of Mr.
Colley Cibber,
yet there is a
Something
in it, by which the judicious Reader will discern some Affinity of
Genius.
Take his Characters in their own Order and Orthography.
Mr.
Wilks,
proper and comely in Person; of graceful Port, Mein, and Air; void of Affectation; his Elevations and Cadences just; congruent to Elocution, especially in genteel Comedy; not inferior in Tragedy; the Emission of his Words free, easy, and natural, attracting attentive Silence in his Audience (I mean the Judicious) except were there are unnatural Parts, as
—I'll mount the Sky,
And kick the Gods like Footbals, as I fly;
As Poet
Durfey
has it.
Which puts the Voice to such obstraperous Stretch,
Requires the Lungs of a
Smith
's Bellows to reach.
He is indeed the finish'd Copy of his famous Predecessor Mr.
Hart.
Mr.
Cibber,
a Gentleman of his Time, ha
arriv'd to an exceeding Perfection in hitting justly the Humour of a starch'd Bea
or Fop to the Lord
Foppington,
Sir
Fopling
and Sir
Courtly,
equaling in the last, the late eminent Mr.
Mounford,
not much inferior in
Tragedy,
had Nature given him Lungs strenuous to his finish'd Judgment.
Mr.
Estcourt, Histrio natus;
he has the Honour (Nature endowing him with an easy, free, unaffected Mode of Elocution) in Comedy always to
laetificate
his Audience, especially Quality (witness Serjeant
Kyte:)
He's not excellent only in that, but a superlative Mimick.
Mr.
Booth,
a Gentleman of liberal Education, of Form venust, of mellifluent Pronunciation, having proper Gesticulations, which are graceful Attendants to true Elocution, of his Time a most compleat Tragedian.
Mr.
Johnson.
He's skilful in the Art of Painting, which is a great Adjument very promovent to the Art of true Elocution, which is all requirable in him that bears the Name of an Actor: He has the Happiness to gain Applause from Court and City, witness
Morose, Corbacchio,
Mr.
Hothead,
and several others: He is a true Copy of Mr.
Underhill,
whom Sir
William D'avenant
judg'd 40 Years ago in
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,
the truest Comedian in his Company.
Mr.
Dogget.
On the Stage he is very
aspectabund,
wearing a Farce in his Face; his Thoughts deliberately framing, his Utterance congruous to his Looks: He is the only comic Original now extant.
Mr.
Pinkethman,
he is the Darling of
Fortunatus,
has gain'd more at the Theatres and Fairs in twelve Years, than those that has tug'd at the Oar of acting these 50.
Next Mr.
Mills,
Mr.
Powel,
Mr.
Bullock;
the two first excel in Tragedy, the other in Comedy.
I must not omit Praises due to Mr.
Betterton,
the first, and now only Remain of the old Stock of the Company, of Sir
William D'avenant
in
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields:
He, like an old stately spreading Oak, now stands fix'd environ'd round with brave, young, growing, flourishing Plants.
Mr.
Dryden,
a little before his Death, rend'ring him this Praise;
"He, like the setting Sun, still shoots a glimmering Ray,
"Like ancient
Rome,
majestic in Decay.
Having thro' this historic Narrative rather made use of History already compiled than wrote my own, the next Scenes will open with great Events, in which I was a principal Actor; what a Kind of a Part I play, or how well I perform'd it, I must submit, as I ever shall all my other theatrical Actions, to the Censure or Approbation of the Publick.
CHAP. VII.
The Author's Ambition in the remarkable Year 1
0.—His commencing Author. The Reasons for it. The
Author
and
Alexander
compared. Mr.
Colley Cibber
privately takes away
King John
from
Drury-Lane
Theatre.—The Author's Speech as a
theatrical Patriot.
—The
Drury-Lane
Company r
volt from
Highmore,
and go to the
Hay-market.
The A
t of Parl
ment for
licensing
the
Stage
considered by the
Author
a
Mr.
Colley Cibber.
—Reflecti
ns on the Author
Pasquin.
—A theatrical State Secret.
T HE Theatre has, with Humour and Propriety been compared to a Political State, but the Nature of its Government has never been fixed: Some affirm the natural Constitution of a Theatre is a Republick; some say it is a limited, others an unlimited Monarchy: What is the best, or what the original Form of Government was, or what future Kind of Government it may have, the most shrewd theatric Politician cannot affirm. Whatever my Notions may be as to national Government, yet, as to a Theatrical State, I must ingenuously confess myself Anti-monarchical: I am for a Government by a few; a Triumvirate▪ and I will tell you roundly, Reader, my Reason. The Stage never succeded better than under the Triumvirate; and as I can never be a sole Monarch, this is the best Form I can think of, which would give me Power equal to a Monarch, though not the titular Honour; for my Co-partners in Empire should be little more than Cyphers,
gnifying, roundly, Nothing. They might indeed be
Triumvirs;
but then, like Duke
Trincalo
in the Play, I would Triumvir over them. This may seem too vain a Conjecture of my own Parts, and too vain a Contempt of the Understanding of others; but in the Sequel of this Story you will find, that as I was the Bustle-master General, I was also the Commander-General, and Treaty-master General; if with all these Commissions I could not secure to myself as much or more Power than most Monarchs in fact have, I ought to be stigmatiz'd for the errantest Dolt that ever pretended to
Machiavelism.
But after this
Pro-aemium
let me introduce Matters of Fact, for which it will be necessary to premise some few Things regarding myself before the Triumvirate was dissolv'd, and Mr.
Colley Cibber
sold his Share in the Patent, as they will the better connect what Relations, Observations, Contemplations, Ruminations, Quotations, and Argumentations which may ensue.
From the little hopes which the Publick conceived of me as an Actor who would make any Figure, by Industry, Application, and what join'd to them is
, the All in All,
Genius,
I rose into a gradual Esteem of the Town: But lest my Significance as an Actor should not be glaring enough, I was resolved, young as I was, at a Time when the whole Nation was in a Bustle, to make my Share in it. In the Year 1720, when all Men thought of raising Estates, and bubbling the World out of what Money they could, I had a violent Ambition of getting much Money, and making much Noise. Would you think it, but I will confess the Simplicity of my Heart: I thought then that were I a
South-Sea
Director,
That I wou'd do—Ye Gods!—What I wou'd do!
But as I was, resolv'd I was to act something
adventrous
within my Sphere; and, unlike the other Projectors, I built my Scheme on a valuable Foundation; and, according to City Phrase, I had the Credit of the best Man in
England
to make use of: In short, as all were commencing great Men, I was resolv'd to commence Author, and accordingly alter'd a Play of
Shakespear
's and had it brought on the Stage; nor was the Success of it much unequal to my Hopes. This indeed was thought striking a bold Stroke; to alter
Shakespear
was a Task that some Persons, merely bigotted to Antiquity, shudder'd at the Name, they calling it sacrificing, violating, affronting, and I don't know what, the Manes of that Bard: But sure all unprejudic'd Persons will not deny, that some historical Plays of
Shakespear
want what we now call
Jeau de Theatre,
that is, a—, a—something necessary to make
Shakespear
be. . . . more . . . more, in brief more
Jeu de Theatre.
My parental Exemplar had alter'd
Richard
the IIId before, that is, he had cull'd the Flowers of two or three Plays, and had bunch'd them up into a Nosegay, for the Devil a Line did he write himself; some indeed he alter'd, but some say for the worse: In this Manner I alter'd
Henry the Sixth;
and that the present and future Age might know that I had alter'd it, I printed it with my own Name, in
capital Letters,
in the Title-Page. This is mention'd to shew
hat I did
patrassare
in my first setting out in a Theatre; but here I allow
non passibus aequis.
From this Instance, however, the Publick saw there was some Spirit of Audacity, and the Dawn of Genius in me. From this notable Aera I became more singularly remarkable both on and off the Stage: I had some few small Parts given me, in which I succeeded beyond Expectation; but as by this Time I knew so much of a Theatre, that I was sensible
Original Parts
made the strongest Influence in the Audience, I endeavour'd to get all the little, sprightly, or humourous Parts which I thought I could hit; the first in which I was more particularly taken Notice of, was the
Country Foot-Boy
in the
Conscious Lovers.
The Part was but a few Lines, yet I, without Affectation say, that I struck in to the aukwardly-pert cunning of such an unlick'd Cub, so naturally, that I had as many Claps as Speeches. I valued not the Length of a Part so much as its Humour, and if I had Applause when I was on the Stage, I was better satisfied than being on the Stage longer, and having no Applause at all: Other young Actors of the House thought in regard to me, what
Wilks
and
Powel
did as to Mr.
Cibber, sen.—
Coiley Cibber
's Apology, p. 123.
"They generally measured, says he, the Goodness of a Part by the Length of it: I thought none bad by being short, that were closely natural, nor any the better for being long, without that 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."
As to the latter Part of the Sentence, Experience has prov'd equally, that to act much tolerably, and not so much masterly, are the Ways to rise to the Top of a Theatre: Mr.
Cibber
was himself a Master of a Company, and it is no very great odds, but Mr.
T. C.
may succeed to the same Post of honourable Profit.
As I rose into some Degree of Approbation, I succeeded Mr.
Norris,
commonly call'd
Dicky Norris
in several of his Parts; which, with several others, which I was well receiv'd in, put me a little upon my Mettle; and I began to think, as I had heard my Father say, he was taken Notice of most for being an Author as well as an Actor, that I would pursue the same Measures. I soon came to a Resolution, for Ambition in great Souls acts with incredible Rapidity.
—Aut Caesar aut nullus,
I thought an excellent Apothegm;
Nec mora, nec requies,
Pen, Ink, Paper, a Collection of Plays,
&c.
being prepar'd, to Work went I. When I had thought of a Plot, struck out Hints for some Characters, and fix'd in the Name of a Comedy, I communicated, at a proper Opportunity, my Design to my Father. He heard me with an indolent Air, and gave me no Answer, but lolling back in his great Chair, took a
Pinch of Snuff,
and fell asleep.—It is impossible to conceive the tumultuous Passions that then agitated my whole human Frame:
Quick beat my Heart, my Pulse ran high,
And Vengeance darted from my Eye;
Upon my Brow sat lowring Care,
And all the Horror of Despair.
—Yet I waited till he awoke, and repeated to him my Design of writing a Comedy.—
"A Comedy, Boy! Thou write a Comedy!"
—Yes, Sir, says I, why not? You wrote a Comedy before you was my Age.—
"True, Child; but, my Dear, I hope you don't think of this Affair seriously."
—Yes, Sir, I have thought on it, and have begun it, and half wrote it—
"Well, but harkye, Sir, What has put you on this Exploit? Fame, Fame, I suppose, and
Parnassian
Glory: Pr'ythe stick to thy Business as an Actor, and don't shew yourself in a double Capacity a moxcomb."
—
Saying this, he took a Pinch of Snuff, and walk'd off.—Reader, you may believe I was not in a little Confusion, and you may equally credit me, when I tell you I thought my
Father
as errant a conceited pragmatical self-sufficient
Coxcomb
as ever he represented. However, on I went with my Play, and when I had finish'd three Acts, I accidentally happen'd to be with him alone, when he surpriz'd me, by saying,
"Well, Boy, What is become of this Comedy of thine? Hast thou wrote a favourite Scene yet?"
I told him what Progress I had made, when, taking a Pinch, and smiling,
"Pr'ythe,
says, he,
what dest thou mean? What a Gad's Name,
THE'
inspires you in this Attempt?"
—That Principle, Sir, said I, that most of the World act upon,
Interest.
You know, Sir, I have not been the most frugal Oeconomist; my Finances low, my Debts high, and my Creditors impatient; a Comedy, Sir, from me would set all right: I am sure it will do; my writing it would make it run: The Name would raise a
Curiosity. . . . .
"Yes, Sir,
answer'd he,
thy Name, for my Name-sake would secure your being damn'd. . . . However, as this is the State of the Case, let me see your Play when you have finish'd it, and I will let you know more of my Mind. I like the Reason you give for writing, and therefore shall not oppose it."
. . . . Now my Heart bounded with Joy, and what will not the Gratification of our Desires work upon our Heart? I began to
love
my Father; I look'd on him in another Light, and instead of thinking him a
Coxcomb,
thought he talk'd like a very sensible Man. In a Fortnight my Play was finish'd, and I brought it him, and read it: He told me it was a rough Pebble, yet might do with a little polishing; for it was a tolerable good first Play: In brief, it pleas'd him so much, that he lick'd the rude
Poetic Cub
into that Form in which it afterwards appear'd. On his Consent it should be brought on the Stage immediately, I could not help ruminating on the Happiness of my Case as an Author; for there was not one Author then living could have brought a Performance on the Stage without infinite Trouble, Vexation, Charge and Interest. I took Care it should get into Rehearsal at the Time the Managers had appointed, who were so civil as to compliment me with the prime Part of the Season.
It may smell pragmatical in the Nostrils of Gravity,
yet I cannot here help remarking what Ideas the Thirst of
Fame
and
Interest
will raise in a generous Mind. The Reader will think,
Alexander
the
Great
and I, can have no Analogy on this Occasion: But though my Character is not
parallel
to him, my Soul may. The Minds of two Men, though they are plac'd at some Distance, if they think in a right Way, will and must meet in one and the same Thought; so every one knows two parallel Lines, the least inclining to one another in the Progression, must and will meet in one and the same Point; as then an Analogy between
Me
and
Alexander
may be mathematically prov'd, I'll show it also by Example. The
Maccdonian
when he had meditated in Youth high Exploits, and noble Feats of Arms, his Breast all swelling with the Heaves and Throws of Ambition, he set before his Eyes the Acts of
Achilles;
inspired by these he shook his brandish'd Falchion; on Conquest he resolv'd; . . . resolv'd and conquer'd: so I ruminating on dramatic Fame,
Parnassian
Glory, and three third crowded Nights, set before my Eyes the Writings of
Colley Cibber;
inspir'd by those, I brandish'd high my Pen, hurling Defiance in vile Critick's Teeth. On Triumph I resolv'd. . . . resolv'd and triumph'd. . . Now some smart theatrical
Wou'dbe
will say this Comparison proves me no more like
Alexander
the
Great,
than that of
Fluellin
's i
Henry the Fifth
does him like
Alexander
the
Pig:
This would give me no Pain.
Odi profanum vulgus & arceo.
But as to my Play: When it began to
mellow
in Rehearsal, and was almost ripe enough for the Stage; a pestilential Blast of Envy had like to have destroy'd it, and with it all my fair Hopes: A Rumour had gone abroad, that truly this Comedy was none of mine, but my Father's; and that he, not willing to stand the Bears any more, brought it out under my Name. As ridiculous as this was, it gain'd Belief among many, therefore it was thought necessary that I should make a previous Apology to the Town to set Matters in a true Light, and to take off Prejudice: Accordingly I wrote a
Letter
to the
Town,
and printed it in one or more of the publick Papers, in which I told them that, upon my Word and Credit, it was all
my own Doings,
and that my Father never wrote a Line of it, or saw it. Notwithstanding this Letter, and the intrinsic Value of the Comedy, there was great Opposition made to the Play, and damn'd it had surely been, if the Epilogue spoke by my first Wife
Jenny Cibber
and me had not sav'd it; for my Father knowing how it would be, wrote an
Epilogue
as a
Dialogue,
between me and
Jenny,
in which she told me I was a
Bloc
head to write,
and that I was my
Father
's
own Son;
all which were strong Jokes with the Audience. I put on a pitiful Face, told her I wrote to pay my Debts, and that I would for the future, prove a good and loving Husband, if she would save my Play: The Audience being won by her Entreaty, to
"Give us, at least, an honest Chance to live,
The Play liv'd nine Nights.—This being the chief Incident of my Life as an
Author,
I have been somewhat prolix in the Account of it; and have yet some more Observations to make. I mention'd that I wrote a Letter to the Town previous to the Performance of my Play: Now there is a Parallel to this in the Conduct of Mr.
Colley Cibber,
which is not mention'd in his Apology, his
Apology
not reaching to that Time. Every one must remember that three Years ago Mr.
Colley Cibber
brought to
Drury-Lane Theatre
his Play, alter'd from
Shakespear,
call'd
King John:
It was no sooner in Rehearsal, but slap the Criticks were at him directly; Letters, Epigrams, Odes, Jokes, and all the Ribraldry of
Grubstreet
flew about in the Papers, and it was said the Templars, and their
Posse Legislatus,
were engag'd to damn it. On this Mr.
Cibber
wrote a Letter, directed,
To the Students of the Inns of Court,
and very handsomly and mighty civilly desired them to do no such Thing. This Letter was new Fuel to the Flame; they fell soul of the Letter immediately, from whence he might easily conjecture how they would use his Play: But what could he do; the Play was just ready to be perform'd, the Actors perfect, Scenes painted, and much Time had been spent which the Master of the House would otherwise have been using to his Interest, therefore he could not fairly withdraw it: However, he was resolv'd it should not be damn'd; and fearing the Master might insist on its being play'd, what does he, but at a Rehearsal, seeing his Play lying on the Prompter's Table, he takes up the Copy, and puts it up into his Pocket
snug,
and decently walk'd off with it, resolving he would not run the Risque of so precarious a Fortune.
I shall here, while I think of it, speak of a Theatrical Conduct lately practised, nor can I speak of it in any Place more proper than in this: I mean that of Persons belonging to a Theatre addressing the Town by Letters.
I must confess, that I and my Father first practised this Art, with the same Success: It laid us open to the Criticism of Coffee-house Wits, who thought soberly on what we wrote hastily: There was such canvassing the Stile; this was not
Grammar,
and that was not
Sense;
one Thing was
false English,
another a
Cibberism:
But besides the Jokes, which if nothing else are nothing at a
l, they debated the Point over, and form'd themselves into Parties, which we experienc'd were not to our Advantage. I have, indeed, since the Time of my Play, address'd the Town, and with the same Success; for I find by our Theatric Squabbles and Altercations we make as much Amusement to the Town in a Morning, as by our Performance in an Evening. The Contentions for the Part of
Polly
between Mr.
Clive
and my late—I was going to say
Wife;—
but a late
Woman
who was call'd by my Name: That Contest, I remark, furnish'd a copious Topic for Conversation, Argument, and Publication, and ended with Noise and Uproars in the Play-house: There has been the same Thing practised by
Monsieur Denoyer
and
Madamoiselle Roland,
and before by
Monsieur Poitier
and
Madamoiselle Roland, versus
Messieurs
Quin
and
Fleetwood,
and yet another, which made not a little Noise, between the two
Harlequins,
Messieurs
Philips
and
Woodward.
The Consequence of all these Addresses has been this; the Town is call'd into the Playhouse, as the
dernier Resort,
to judge of Things which the
Master
of the House is only Judge of: When the Judges come to this mixt Court of Judicature, where all present may pass Sentence, they are divided in Opinion, and then the Question must be decided by Noise and Tumult, and they who are the greatest Rioters carry it. I do not find that any of these epistolary Addresses to the Town from theatric Performers have done them any Service, nor would I advise, on any Occasion, to have Recourse to such Expedients: However, there is no Rule without Exception. Mr.
Rich,
who has never suffered his People to make Appeals, nor ever made them himself, was at last drawn in by meer Necessity. A little, trifling, pragmatical, obscure
'Pothecary,
that lives in some bye Street or Alley about
Covent-Garden,
one
J—H—ll,
publishes a
Thing
call'd the
Opera
of
Orpheus,
and in a scurrilous Preface to it, abuses Mr.
Rich
for having stole his Entertainment of
Orpheus
and
Eurydice
from
his Orpheus,
and instigated the Publick to do Justice for so notorious a Fraud; nor was this Pamphlet his only Attack: He run about the Town, made Parties, and People from his Representations, thought him really injured: Now it became necessary for Mr.
Rich
likewise to appeal to the Town, and to set the Affair in a true Light, and plainly narrate downright Matters of Fact: To this
H—ll
replied, with all the scoundrel Scurrility his little Wit could afford; and I also became an Object of his Malice. There was a candid Answer printed to his Pamphlet the Night before the Entertainment came out: This Address to the Publick, from Mr.
Rich,
was necessary, and had the desired Effects: The first Night the
Entertainment
was
crouded,
and was received with general Applause; and the World has never since hear'd of that
J—H—ll,
who sunk into that Obscurity from whence he emerg'd.
But to return, Reader, to that Station in the Theatre from whence I digress'd. After having wrote my Play call'd the
Lover,
I began to think myself every Day of more and more Consequence; and having got an Insight into the Manner of Managing, I began to think I
s Equal to the Management of a young Company to play in the Summer Season. Accordingly I got Leave from Mr.
Wilks,
and the other Masters, to form a young Company, and, to play during the Vacation: This was no bad Thing for the Masters, nor the inferior Players; for the first receiv'd a settled Payment for the Use of a few old Scenes and Cloaths, and the latter generally five or six Days pay
per
Week for two Days Performance. Besides, I generally brought out some new Pieces and Farces, which not only turned to our immediate Account, but to the Good of the
Actors,
as
Actors,
and to the
Masters,
by becoming very gainful Performances the Winter or two following. To Instance this, I need say no more than that
George Barnwell,
the
Devil to pay,
the
M
ck Doctor,
and the
Beggars Opera,
the Part of
Polly
by Mrs.
Clive,
were first perform'd under my Management of Summer Companies: From these young Companies see what Performers have been chiefly sprung; Mrs
Clive,
Mrs.
Buttler,
and, though last, not least in Love—MYSELF. This Custom I continued till the Revolution of the whole Company under my Conduct, of which more hereafter. This Management of mine was an undoubted Proof of my Abilities, and I did imagine I might become a Manager in my own Right: But, alas! how frail are all human Hopes! On the Death of Mr.
Wilks,
Mr.
Cibber, sen.
sold out, at a proper Opportunity, his Share of the Patent to Mr.
Highmore,
a Gentleman who had a great liking to theatrical Affairs, and who had play'd some Parts on the Stage, meerly, I suppose, to shew what a Judge he was of acting, and consequently of Actors. The Parts he play'd were
H
tspur
and
L
thario.
This Gentleman, besides his Liking to theatrical Affairs, had chiefly a Liking to theatrical Gain: He had heard, and partly seen what Profits the Managers had made for a long Course of Years, and had a Mind to purchase what he thought would prove so fine an Income: How his Expectations were answered, you will find related. Here I must disclose a Secret; When Mr.
Cibber, sen.
sold out his Share in the Patent, I was desperataly alarm'd, and look'd on it as a Piece of Injustice done to myself: For I thought his Share, or at least the major Part of his Share, would have devolved upon me as an Inheritance; therefore I looked on myself as a
disinberited Son,
and that
Highmore
had bought, clandessinely, my
Birth-Right,
or rather by sinister Means
deprived
me of it. This may serve for a Reason why I so heartily enter'd into the Measures I afterwards prosecuted: On Mr.
Booth
's Death the Patent became invested to the Property of Mr.
Highmore,
the Widow
Booth,
and the Widow
Wilks.
The whole Company began to murmur at being rul'd by so motley a Kind of Government as they were now falling under,
viz.
A Man who knew nothing of the Business, and two Women unfit for such a Province: Mr.
Ellis
was indeed deputed to act for Mrs.
Wilks,
b
t I believe that did not much better the Affairs: Mr.
Ellis,
however, became not only a Deputy to Mrs.
Wilks,
but Prime-Minister and
Fac-Totum
to
Highmore.
This could be no pleasant Situation for the other Actors, who had been so many Years labouring in the Theatre, and bo
e the Burthen of the Day; such as the elder
Mills,
Mr.
Johnson, Miller, Griffin,
and some others, who, though younger, had some Claim, as
Mills, jun.
and
self:
I found this an admirable Time to put in Execution a Design I had plan'd, which was, at a proper Opportunity, to fling off the Yoke, and set up for Masters and Managers ourselves: At one of our private Meetings all were complaining, yet no one proposed a Method of Redress, when I got up from my Chair and thus delivered myself.
Gentlemen,
MY Heart never beats with a stronger Joy than when I have a Power of
thinking
and
acting
right: I think the Glow that now warms my Bosom is raised by
Truth
and cherished by
Sobriety.
Long have you complained of the Tyranny you groan under, and long have looked with Indignation on your Chains: But what,
O ye Gods!
can avail lugubrious Lamentations? Of what Force is such female Rhetorick? . . . If you think you receive Injuries, deliver yourselves from them: If you would not be
Slaves,
be
free:
If you have a
Will
to be so, you have
Power.
Under what Bonds are you consined? By what Allegiance are you restrained? You have a glorious Cause: You may be the Asserters of the Cause of
Liberty.
What though your Enemies have got the
Patent,
you have your
own Talents,
your
own Endowments
of
Nature,
and
Acquisitions
of
Art.
What is the
Great Seal
to you? You may say of
that,
as was said by a great and bold Man of
Magna Charta,
it was a
Magna Farta.
If you have Spirits, Resolution, and Conduct, a fair Road invites to Wealth, Fame, and Freedom. You may take their House of some of the Renters, and get Possession of it by Artifice, and set up yourselves: A Stratagem in War is no Crime: Or, failing in that, you may,
pro tempore,
take the little
Hay-market House:
Your Company will be better than theirs, and Novelty of Places will be changing the Scene, and give Success. Perhaps it may be objected we have no
Exchequer,
no
Scenes,
no
Cloaths,
with a long
Et caetera.
What then? You may have Credit enough. . . . Though some among you have not much Credit in a
private Capacity,
yet in a
publick Capacity,
as a Body corporate, as it were, much Credit will be given: There are monied Men who will adventure Sums on such a Proceeding: Therefore,
Sirs,
no longer shew this
Inanity
of
Complaint;
the Means of Freedom are in your own Possession, which, if you refuse, may you be perpetual Slaves, and be sold like a Herd of Sheep from one Purchaser to another: If you dare be otherwise, by this
honest Heart
I will risque my Life and Fortune with you, and prove to you, that I cannot only,
Fari quae sentio
sed
Agere quae Sentio, speak
what I
think,
but
act
accordingly.
This Harangue had all the Success that I could wish; They resolved no longer to bear the galling Yoke of Tyranny, but assert that Liberty and Property which all true
Britons
are so tenacious of. When the Season was quite over, we thought it a proper Time, having gain'd some of the Renters to our Side, to endeavour to gain Possession of the Theatre; but in this we fail'd, though we attacked it,
Vi & Armis.
On this Disappointment, we all agreed, that the only Place we could pitch our Tents at, and open our theatrical Campaign, must be at the little House in the
Hay-market.
Several Objections were made to the Situation of the Place, and the Smallness of the Theatre; but, as I had the Revolution strongly at Heart, I talked them and persuaded them out of all their Objections. At Length it was resolved, in a full Council of War, that we would encamp at the
Hay-market;
we accordingly took the House of one
Potter,
a Carpenter, who was the Landlord, b
spoke all our dramatick Equipages and Furniture, and held frequent Councils to settle the Operations of the ensuing Campaign. At the Fair of
Bartholomew
we gain'd some Recruits; but besides those Advantages over the Enemy, I myself went there in Person, and publickly
exposed
myself: This was done to fling Defiance in the Patentees Teeth; for on the Booth where I exhibited, I hung out the
Stage-Mutiny,
with
Pistol
at the Head of his Troop, our Standard bearing this Motto,
—We Eat.—
In a few Days after, the Patentees opened with
Aesop,
to which they added an occasional Scene, written formerly by Sir
John Vanbrugh,
on a prior De
ertion of Actors, wherein they thought they did great Service to the Patentees, and cast a severe Ro
ction on us: They next attack'd us by another old, worn-out, rh
psodical Affair of one
Feildings,
call'd the
Author
's Farce, in which I and my Father were daily ridicul'd: But all this I laugh'd at in my Sleeve, well considering, that joking on the
Cibbers
could not hurt us. On the contrary, we open'd with
Love for Love,
and got up all the strongest Plays with a diligent Expedition. Our Company consisted of the old
Veterans,
who were allow'd by the Town to be greatly superior to our Antagonists; for excepting Mrs.
Clive
and Mrs.
Horton,
there was not one in their Company but was the contemptible Refuse of the Theatre. We had also receiv'd an additional Force, by receiving Mr.
Milward,
who having left Mr.
Rich
on some Disgust, join'd our Forces. The Patentees imagin'd that much depended on the Number of their Troops, and they had try'd considerable Reinforcements from strolling Companies; but being all awkward and undisciplin'd, they were no more to compare to us than the County Militia to the King's Body-Guards
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 116.
.—
"What rude, riotous Havock was made of all the late dramatic Honours of our Theatre! All became at once the Spoil of Ignorance and Self-Conceit!
Shakespear
was tortur'd and defac'd in every single 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: Not young Lawyers in hir'd Robes and Plumes at a Masquerade, could be less what they could seem, or more aukwardly personate the Character they belong'd to."
This exclamatory Invective of Mr.
Colley Cibber,
on the Revolution which
Betterton
made, is so
apropos
to my Revolution, I could not forbear quoting it. As we met with much Success, and the Patentees with none at all, they thought to effect by Policy what they could not obtain by Force: They endeavour'd therefore to silence us, not by the Authority of the Lord Chamberlain, but that of an Act of Parliament, by which they would prove us Vagabonds. To effect this▪ Mr.
Harper
was taken up as a Vagabond, and was committed to
Bridewell:
But on the Trial of the Legality of his Commitment, it appear'd that he was not within the Description of the Act of the Twelfth of Queen
Ann,
against Vagabonds, he being a House-keeper, and having a Vote for the Members of Parliament for
Westminster:
He was therefore discharg'd, and conducted through the Hall, amidst the triumphant Acclamations of his theatric Friends. Having carried this important Point, we had nothing to fear from the Patentees, knowing now that our Success depended solely on our own good Conduct, and the Favour of the Publick. I cannot but confess that we had dismal Apprehensions of the Force of the Act, which would have so fix'd the Power of the Patent, that we must
invitis animis
have return'd to the Dominions of our former Masters: We had indeed got a specious Colour of a Licence, and put at the Top of our Bill,
By Licence of the Master of the Revels;
for which titular Honour we paid him handsomely; yet we did this rather to induce the Publick to think we play'd by a legal Authority and under the Sanction of the Court, than for any Right which we thought it conferr'd on us. We could not be ignorant that Mr.
Giffard
's Company at
Goodman
's
Fields
was then playing against all the Opposition that could be made to it, against the Power of the City of
London,
and even their Remonstrances to the Court that it was a Nusance. In short, it was not then thought in the Power of the Crown to suppress a Playhouse, though acting without Royal Licence and Permission, because it was not evidently an illegal Thing. But the Case is now alter'd by a late Act of Parliament, which has fix'd all Power in regard to Theatres and theatrical Affairs in the Lord Chamberlain for the Time being: As this Act is of such Importance to the Theatres, and the passing it caus'd great Debates in both Houses, it may be proper to consider the Cause and Reasons given for having it enacted; in relating which, I may give some curious Anecdotes, and State-Secrets, which Mr.
C. Cibber
has omitted; yet I shall open my Narrative in his Words, as they are an Invective against a certain Person, for whom also I have a Word or two in
Petto.
"
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 164.
These tolerated Companies gave Encouragement to a broken Wit to collect a fourth Company, who for sometime acted Plays in the
Hay Market,
which House the united
Drury-Lane
Comedians had quited. This enterprising Person, I say, (whom I do not chuse to name, unless it could be to his Advantage, or that it was of Importance) had Sense enough to know, that the best of Plays with bad Actors would turn but to a very poor Account, and therefore found it pecessary to give the Publick some Pieces of an extraordinary Kind, the Poetry of which he conceiv'd ought to be so strong, that the greatest Dunce of an Actor, could not spoil it. He knew too, that as he was in haste to get Money, it would take up less Time to be intrepidly abusive, than decently entertaining; that to draw the
Mob
after him, he must rake the Chanel, and pelt their Superiors; that to shew himself Somebody, he must come up to
Juvenal
's Advice, and stand the Consequence.
"Aude aliquid brevibus gyaris & carcere dignum
"Si vis esse aliquis.—
Juv.
Such then was the mettlesome Modesty he set out with; upon this Principle he produc'd several frank and free Farces that seem'd to knock all Distinctions of Mankind on the Head. Religion, Laws, Government, Priests, Judges, and Ministers were all laid flat at the Feet of this
This is to be taken in a double Sense, the Person struck at having since called himself
Hercules Vinegar,
and is the notorious Author of the
Champion.
Herculean Satyrist.
This Drawcansir in Wit, that spar'd neither Friend nor Foe; who, to make his Fame immortal, like another
Erostratus,
set Fire to his Stage by writing up to an Act of Parliament to demolish it. I shall not give the particular Strokes of his Ingenuity a Chance to be remember'd, by reciting them; it may be enough to say, in general Terms, they were so openly flagrant, that the Wisdom of the Legislature thought it high Time to take Notice of them."
The Person of whom Mr.
Cibber
only gives the Outside Lines of his Pourtrait, is at present well known by those only: but that Posterity may know this iniquitous Son of Wit, who has fell under this heavy Censure of the Laureat for satirizing the just Measures of the present all-just, all-wise, and all-powerful Minister; I will subscribe the Name of
H—y F—d—g,
Esq
Author of
Pasquin,
the
historical Register, Eurydice hiss'd,
and others of the same political Cast. To these Farces, which were allegorical Satires on the Administration, the Town run with the utmost Avidity of Defamation and Scandal: He drew the
Mob
after him from
Grov
s
or, Cavendish, Hanover,
and all the other fashionable Squares, as also from
'Pall Mall,
and the
Inns of Court:
I call them as the Apologist I quoted calls them, Mob; for there may be your Mobs of Quality as well as Mob
of Raggimuffins; your
Magnum vulgus & imum—
Your great Vulgar and the small.—Well—These Mobs or Multitudes, or Concourse, or Audiences, call them what you will, resorted nightly to hear these Farces, and were dull enough not only to think they contain'd Wit and Humour, but Truth also. It could not but regret me to see some noble Peers and Gentlemen I had entertain'd a very good Opinion of, as to their Parts and Capacities, sitting in the Side-boxes, and seemingly delighted with the Performance: But I have Charity enough for these Gentlemen to think they did all this more out of Party-Zeal, and to byass the
Mob,
than from any Conviction, there was, in those Farces, either Sense, Humour, or Truth.—But what will not Men prostitute in a Party-Cause!—The Successes of these dramatic Peices made the M—r not a little uneasy, nor could the merry droll Mortal his Brother keep his Temper; for let some Men be as facetions as they please, and love a Laugh as much as they will, they don't like the Laugh to be always on them. I and my Father, who can bear as much laughing at, and have had as much laughing at as any two Persons in the Kingdom, not excepting the two honourable Gentlemen I just now mention'd; yet though we carry it off in Company, it stings, it hurts our Hearts to be the standing Objects of Raillery; and I will not say, but if we could as well avenge the Insults on us, as the M . . . r could against him, but We might perform it. . . . But to the Point. From these farcical Satires, a dainty Opportunity offer'd itself to the great Man, not only to suppress those, but to bring all Stages, and all Stage-writings under such a Restriction, that nothing should be exhibited for the future that should give him the least Uneasiness. Here was an admirable Proof of deep Policy and Sagacity, to make the Satire of his Enemies be the Tools of his Interest: A Scheme was laid to accomplish his Design, it was put in Execution, and it succeeded.
I must here enter the Verge of private History, and by the following Anecdote show, that I have that great Talent of an Historian, not to dare to speak false, and not afraid to speak Truth.
Mr.
Giffard
had remov'd about this Time from
Goodman's Fields
to
Lincoln's-Inn Fields
House, which he had hir'd of Mr.
Rich;
His Removal had not answer'd his End, and his Affairs began to grow desperate. He had never as yet given any prejudicial Offence to the Court, yet was s
ppos'd not to have such Obligations to it, as to deny, at this Juncture, the performing a Farce which might bring him a large Sum of Money. At this same Time, in a most vile Paper, call'd
Common Sense,
there was a libellous Production call'd the
Golden Rump,
which the Town and the Mob were Fools enough to think Wit and Humour: Now as the hitting in with the Humour of the multitudinous Mob is very advantageous to a Theatre, a Dramatick Piece was wrote on the
Golden Rump
Subject, and call'd the
Golden Rump,
which was given Mr.
Giffard
to be perform'd; but before it was rehears'd it so happen'd, no Matter how or why, but so it happen'd, that Mr.
Giffard
went to
Downing-Street
with this Satirical Farce in his Pocket, which was delivered to a
great Man
for his Perusal; and it was found to be a scurrilous, ignominious, traiterous, scandalous,
&c. &c. &c.
Libel against Majesty itself. It was immediately carried to. . . shown to . . . explain'd to . . . and remonstrated to . . . that if there was not an immediate Act of Parliament to stop such Abuses, not Regal Dignity was safe from them.
—Actum est.—
'Twas done.—The Point gain'd in a Moment, and a proper Act order'd to be got.—Well, now, says some impatient Reader,
What of all this? What Secret is this? By what Inference or Inuendo does this show the M . . . . . .'s Policy or Finesse? . . .
Prithee don't be so mifty, and let me ask you a Question by Way of a Suppose.—Suppose Sir, this same
Golden Rump
Farce was wrote by a certain great Man's own Direction, and as much Scurrility and Treason larded in it as possible.—Suppose
Giffard
had a private Hint how to act in this Affair, and was promis'd great Things to play a particular Part in this Farce.—Suppose he was promised a
separate Licence,
or an Equivalent:—You may then suppose the M . . . . . . . a thorough Politician, who knew to manage bad Things to the best Advantage.
—O! but,
say you,
I will not found my Belief on Supposes—
Truth may be supposed: Suppose this Truth and you may be right.—If you are so ungenteel to require Proof demonstrative I have done with you, and can only refer you to the Author and Negociators of the
Golden Rump.—
This, however, is notoriously certain, that the Farce of the
Golden Rump
was carried to a great Man, and the Master of the Playhouse, who carried it, was promised something, which he has been some Time in a vain Expectation of, but will now, in all Probability, end in nothing at all.
But, laying aside private Anecdotes of the obtaining the late Playhouse Act, I must mention what was known to all: The Masters of the two Houses acting under the Patent made no Opposition to this Bill; they did all in their Power to promote it, because it would suppress, for the present, all Theatres but their own: They were so full of this Prospect, that they did not perceive they were at the same Time becoming absolute Dependants on a M—r; for the Bill contain'd a Clause, that the Lord Chamberlain should have a Power of licensing other Theatres, if he so thought proper, within the City and Liberties of
Westminster.
The Actors were indeed alarm'd, and imagin'd this Act would lay them under Oppressions, from which they could gain no proper Redress; for the constant immemorial Way of redressing Grievances, in the Government of a Theatre, is to raise a Revolt, and bring about a Revolution: But the Security of the Masters of the Playhouses, and the Alarm of the Actors were both illfounded, as I shall, in the subsequent Narration, make appear. If the Lord Chamberlain can grant another Licence, why then should not the Actors, who may be aggriev'd by the present Masters, endeavour to gain one? I only ask that Question here; I may explain it in another Place.
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 165.
Mr.
C. Cibber
has made a copious and florid Dissertation, as well political as theatrical, on this Law: He proves Satire on a Minister, when represented on the Stage, is stronger than any Satire can be that is read in the Closet, therefore to license the Stage could bear no Analogy with licensing the Press: He lays it down also,
"that a theatrical Insult to the present Minister, is equal to the Stab
Guiscard
gave the late Lord
Oxford:"
Then adds,
"Was it not as high Time to take this dangerous Weapon of mimical Insolence and Defamation out of the Hands of a mad Poet, as to wrest the Knife from the lifted Hand of a Murderer?"
—In short, the
Laureat
has shewn himself a profound Politician, by becoming a
voluntary Champion
for that Law: He says, he writes on this Subject to shew the
true Pourtrait of his Mind,
and
to shew how far he is or is not a Blockhead:
Perhaps this was not the only Motive; if he had another Design than merely to give his
shallow Reasons a little Exercise,
and if it should succeed, the World must admire at the Depth of his Speculations. I shall illustrate this Remark when I come to descant on some Transactions of a very late Date, thinking it now Time to return to that Part of my History from whence I digress'd.
By the Release of
Harper,
we gain'd a compleat Conquest over the Pattentees; they indeed carried on the Campaign, but with such Losses and Disadvantage, that Mr.
Highmore,
the chief Sharer and Director, began to think it the most prudent Method to make the best Retreat he could: Upon my Soul, though as an Enemy in the Field I could not be displeas'd with his Distress; yet, as he paid so many thousand Pounds to my Father, my honest Heart could not but feel for his being plung'd in an Affair he knew nothing of. I cannot blame my Father for so advantageously selling out; and, was my hereditary Claim laid aside, he acted prudently, and consequently honestly. But let that go: He made me some amends by giving
Highmore
no assisting Advice how to conduct his Theatre, which, if he had, must have greatly injured us; for no one knows that Province but myself and him. The new Purchaser therefore being left to himself, and his Prime Minister Mr.
E-ll-s,
Singers, Dancers, Tumblers, and other exotic Performers were hir'd at extraordinary Rates. This was but of very little Service, and the Posture of his Affairs grew daily into a worse and worse Situation.
I cannot but here observe to the Reader how different our Conduct was at the
Hay-market:
I must ingenuously confess, though we kept our simple Heads above Water, we had got out of our Depth; for after our first Run of Novelty and Interest was over, our Audiences grew thin, which Deficiency we supplied by Orders of our own; for in the Theatres, as in Shops, the Appearance of Business brings Customers. Nevertheless, we found large Deficiencies in the Office; and by the Accounts in our Books we had contracted a very considerable Debt; yet we conceal'd the State of our Case as much as possible, resolving to beat our Antagonists our of the Field, and by such a Conquest set every Thing right. If the Patentees at
Drury-Lane
had either known our Condition, or had Prudence and Courage enough to bear with their own for another Season, I know not what the Consequences might have been: I may say it now, I believe we should have been forc'd to a Cessation of Arms, and capitulated on the best Terms we cou'd have got.
Mr.
Rich
had either gain'd better Intelligence of the State of our Affairs, or from the State of those at
Drury-Lane,
had found the Patentees were heartily tir'd of their expensive instead of lucrative Offices: From one of these Reasons, or both, he had formed a Scheme, which, had it been carried into Execution, must have proved very gainful to the Patentees, and very agreeable to the Town, as it would have given them the best Plays, play'd by the best Performers in
England:
But as well concerted as it was for these Intentions, it was destructive of the natural and legal Liberty of the Actors: They would have become mere Servants to two co-join'd Patentees; nor could have had, on any Disgust or Affront, any Power to revolt. The Scheme was for to have
Drury-Lane
Patent purchased of the Patentees who were tired of it, at a cheap Rate, and then the Patentees of
Covent-Garden
and
Drury-Lane
to enter into a joint Partnership, and engage the best Actors, who should act occasionally at both Houses, performing always a Comedy at one House and a Tragedy at the other. There were several other Conditions which would have prov'd beneficial to the Masters, which are needless to enumerate.
This Plan, though it has been long thought a new Finesse in theatric Policy, yet
Cibber's Apology
shows it is an old Stage-Cunning, practis'd, in some Measure, by Mr.
R—h
's Father, and Mr.
Owen Swinney.
This Design, however, could not be carried into Execution by Mr.
R—h
alone: There was wanting the
Primum Mobile,
the
Sine qua non;
the Purchase Money: On this Occasion he apply'd to Mr.
Fl—t—d,
who was his Friend, and proposed
his
purchasing the Patent, and to enter into a Sort of Partnership: This Proposal was set in so advantageous a Light, and such fair Hopes offer'd themselves, that Mr.
Fl—t—d
came into this Scheme, and purchased the Patent of Mr.
Highmore
and the other
Patentees.
On this Turn in Affairs, We at the
Hay-market
were under a most terrible Consternation; we look'd on ourselves as Persons who were never to enjoy that Liberty we had so strenuously endeavour'd to obtain: For this Conjunction of the Patentee Masters must have compell'd us to have returned under their Management, our Affairs being in a very sad Posture, and daily growing worse: But, very happily for us, a Breach happen'd between Mr.
R—h
and Mr.
Fl—t—d
at a Time we could have least suspected it, and that gave us all we wanted, an Opportunity to make the best Terms with the latter, get rid of our Stock-Debt, and return to
Drury-Lane:
I shall not enter into the Reasons for this Breach of Friendship between the two Masters, as that Affair has been so differently represented; but Mr.
R—h
has been chiefly censured as having drawn a Gentleman into an Affair, which he would not otherwise have thought to have embarked in, and then leaving him to conduct his new Undertaking as he might: But let their Quarrel be what it would, it was advantageous to us; for Mr.
Fl—t—d
being work'd into the highest Resentment, was resolv'd to make up the best Company, and to hurt
R—h
by getting from him his chief Actors, and most necessary People: Mr.
Quin
was soon gained, but on such Terms as no
hired Actor
had before received. At the same Time Mr.
Fl—t—d
had entered into a Treaty with us at the
Hay-market,
and agreed to allow all the managing Actors
two hundred Pounds
a Year each, and to some a clear Benefit, and to others a Benefit at a lower Rate than usual. As in all the Transactions of that Affair I was
Treaty-Master General,
and negociated that important Peace with the Patentee, it may be expected I should enter into a long detail on that Subject. My Conduct in this Respect may be somewhat singular, but I can give some Reasons as an Apology for it: As this will be entering on a new Scene, I will halt a little as well to give my Reader a little Relief as myself; for I don't know how it is, but I begin to perceive myself somewhat dull, and perhaps some People may have perceiv'd it a great while ago. If then,
Sir Reader,
your Patience and good Nature are worn out, fling down the Book, that you may, when you think proper, begin the next Chapter with a better Temper, and a Spirit more alert and lively,—and all that.
CHAP. VIII.
Of the Nature of writing Apologies: The Author's Proof against Scandal.—His Negociations and those of
H—o W—e
compared.—His Conduct and the Duke of
A—le
's parallel'd.—Obligations received are no Reason for Gratitude.—The Company fixed at
Drury-Lane:
Some Remarks on it, and a
Digression.
W ELL,
courteous Reader,
you venture then to travel on, maugre all the Things I can say to my own Dispraise: If I, like my Father, tell you, about every sixth Page, I am a Blockhead or a Coxcomb, yet you still away with my Nonsense; and as my Vanity is not quite jaded, you read on in Hopes to meet with some fresh Instances of it. But perhaps those who may peruse this
Apology
for my
Life
may expect that I would enter into some very illustrious and renowned Acts of my private Conduct which have been very publickly talked of: To such Personages I shall answer, they are not to imagine a Man would set down in cool Blood and write the Devil of a Satire against
himself:
That would be dainty apologizing indeed: No; the Thing is to say nothing harsh against your own dear Self, but as many severe Things and Reflections as possible against other People. Mr.
Colley Cibber,
whose apologetical Talents are admirable, has shewn this Species of writing in
Perfection:
A great many People, on the Publication of his Apology, cry'd,
An Apology for the Life of
Colley Cibber!
Well, now we shall see what he can say in Regard to this, and that, and t'other—
Things which related to
Gaming,
or
Gallantry,
or a thousand Things not so very proper to be mentioned: But they were all out; not a Syllable of his private Character; not a Word for exc
sing, palliating, or defending little foolish Acts which merely related to Religion or Morality. I can guess what may be expected from me; what Defence of particular Conduct. I may make; but I shall relate only such Things as may show my Parts, my theatrical Character, and, in short, what I think proper, not what every impertinent Person may want to know: Nor is this so unfair a Proceeding as some may imagine: No Man can be obliged to accuse himself: I write to put a Gloss upon my Acts and Deeds, not place them in the most odious Light, and erect myself in an historical Pillory. It would also be an endless Work to vindicate all the simple Accusations which have been brought against me, and which no Persons have any Business to trouble their Heads about. Should Men say, for Instance, I used my first dear and well-beloved Wife, of ever blessed Memory,
J—n—y C—,
with ill Usage: Should they affirm, that when her all pale and breathless Corps was in the Coffin laid, and I, with Sobs and Tears and interjected Sighs, had moaned to many a Witness, my too unhappy Fate, yet that same Night had a Brace of
Drurian
Doxies vile in the same House.—Again, should base Defamation whisper in my Ear I sold and barter'd away my present most virtuous Spouse, and that I was a voluntary Cuckold on Record: Should Scandal with her hundred-tongu'd curs'd Mouth, rumour it up and down, that neither
common Honour
nor
common Honesty
were lodg'd within the Centre of my Soul.—Should even all this be said, calm and unruff
ed would I contemn it all, and look on such Reports in the cool Light of mild Philosophy. There are indeed a Set of People who will be Busy-Bodies: To such I would answer very pithily, sometimes,
What is that to
ME, sometimes,
What is that to
YOU. To illustrate what a Propriety there is in curbing such Kind of Impertinence by a
Laconic
Sentence, I will tell you a short Story.
A great Lawyer, who now makes one of the most illustrious Figures in
Westminster-Hall,
was as remarkable for his Amours as his Pleadings: What was his Gallantry to any Body? Yet was he often censured and made the Object of Wit for this Foible. It happen'd his
Lady,
his
Chambermaid,
and
Cousin
all lay-in at the same Time: A Friend of his took an Occasion to speak to him on this Subject by Way of Raillery, in this Manner: They say, my L—d, your
Lady
is brought to Bed.
—She is so.—
They say your
Cousin
and
Chambermaid
are also brought to Bed.
—What's that to
ME.—But they say you are the Father.
—What's that to
YOU.—Upon which, turning on his Heel, my L—d left Mr.
Impertinent
with a proper Indignation.
—What's that to You,
is the sole Answer I shall give to any defamatory Scurrility, and if any Person is not satisfied with such a Reply, he may get a more satisfactory one if he knows how.—After this Observation it may be proper to resume my theatrical Story, which I left off at the Treaty with Mr.
Fl—t—d,
to return to
Drury-Lane
House, and act under his Patent.
As I had been the chief Person in raising our theatrical
Revolt,
and being of a daring pushing Temper, I was resolved to have the principal Share in the
Restoration
of the Company to
Drury-Lane:
I accordingly got myself nominated as
Plenipo',
and began my Negociations with Mr.
Fl—t—d:
How happy I was in my Negociations the Event proved; and as I had to deal with a Person of Honour and Generosity, I manag'd the Conduct of the whole Affair in such a Manner as to make it turn out to
myself.
In short, I got a good round Sum of Money out of him; for why should I
negociate
and
negociate
and get nothing myself. Some People may smile to see me, on this Occasion, compare myself to another great
Negociator,
and wonder how I and
H—ce W—e
can have any Analogy. But pray do you think that he for so many Years has run from
Court
to
Court;
now at the
Hague,
now at
Paris;
negociating here and negociating there, and all for a Joke only? Would any Man do this without the pleasing Recordation of
Place
and
Pension?
In Truth my Friend
H—,
as well as myself, was a little mov'd by Self Interest: Besi
s, our Negociations have been some what alike; for mine, in sact, was a patch'd up Affair, and I did not so much consult the Interest of my Master, as to serve a Turn for that Time: I botched up a Peace, but I knew it would not last many Years: If there is any Pre-eminence in our Talents, I hope I shall not seem immodest, when I frankly own I think the Ballance turns in my Favour; for I am now more for War than Peace.
"
C. Cibber
's Apology p. 326.
Thus we see, as Mr.
C. Cibber
truly observes, let the Degrees and Ranks of Men be ever so unequal, Nature throws out their Passions from the same Motives; 'tis not the Eminence or Lowliness of either that makes us the Difference. If this familiar Stile of talking should, in the Nostrils of Gravity and Wisdom, smell a little too much of the Presumptuous or the Pragmatical, I will at least descend lower in my Apology for it, by calling to my Assistance the old humble Proverb,
viz. 'Tis an ill Bird that,
&c. Why then should I debase my Prosession by setting it in valgar Lights, when I may show it to more favourable Advantages? Or why, indeed, may I not suppose that a sensible Reader will rather laugh than look grave at the Pomp of my Parallels."
When I had concluded this Treaty with Mr.
Fl—t—d,
so advantageous for the Company, and more particularly in a private Manner to myself, we remov'd Bag and Bagage from the
Hay-Market
and return'd to our old Camp at
Drury-Lane:
Our Government was then thought to be fixed in a peaceable Manner; every Thing went on with great Success, and I took Care to be so much in the Master's Favour, that in the Direction of the Theat
e I was a kind of Prime Minister: I say a kind of Prime Minister, for even then there was another Person shared amply in his Confidence, and by whom he was chiefly advised. When I found out this, I was not a little nettled; a Jealousy raised various Sentiments in my Breast; for, like
Pompey
the Great, my Soul disdain'd the Thought of an Equal. Glory and Power are the darling Passions of my Heart; and not to enjoy either of them was, to so jealous an Ambition, a meer Shade to my Laurels. My Competitor was the Person who had been concern'd for Mrs.
Wilks,
and who thought himself to have an admirable Talent for theatric Affairs. This Talent was to compose
Pantomimes,
furbish up old Tricks, and make what he call'd Entertainments: As a Specimen of what Notion he had of the Dignity of the Stage, I must observe, that his Genius turn'd to the monstrous and the marvellous; for which Reason nothing could be brought to Town to be exhibited to the Vulgar, but he was for having it exhibited on the Stage: There was a Fellow of an enormous Height came from
Germany
to be shewn for a Sight, call'd
Mynheer Cajanus:
Such a Spectacle, proper enough for a
Smithfield
or
Moorfields
Booth, was thought a proper Personage to grace the Theatre Royal. Accordingly Negociations were begun; but to my Honour be it spoke, I had no Concern in them: I was kept out of the Secret, nor was I much affected that I was so. I and his Grace the Duke of
A—le,
in this Respect, may be said to have the same Notion of Things: His late Speech on the State of the Nation shows that he was out of the Secret, in Regard to the Conduct of Affairs, and, as he thinks them wrong, was proud that none of them could be laid to his Charge: though I and that illustrious Person differ in other Sentiments in Regard to the present Ministry, yet I am proud that in this Point he agrees with me.—But to the History:
Mynheer
soon agreed to some very advantageous Terms proposed to him; was with all Secrecy convey'd into
Drury-Lane
Theatre, and was soon shown arising from a Trap-Door, to the no small Admiration of the Spectators, and the no small Joy of my Co-Rival. Nothing could give me and my Brethren, both of the Buskin and the Sock, who had any Regard for that School of Honour and Virtue, the Stage, more secret Indignation than to see it prostituted in so ignominious a Manner: And what still added to our Resentment was the consummate Folly of the Town, who crouded to the House a great Number of Nights to see the
Tall Man.
But I had yet other Reasons to be no Friend to this
Tall Man.
It regretted my Soul, frequently and oft, when on Buskins a Foot and a half high I was to personate a great Heroe, and had my wavy Plume high o'er my Brow, Nod ever and anon with tragic Grace; yet was I thought diminutively great, and rais'd the Audience to a mock Laugh, while he—that
Orion,
that
Polephemus
of a Man, with an Inanity of Voice and Gesture, excited Wonder and Applause.
—Pudet haec opprobria Nobis
Et dici potuisse & non potuisse reselli.
After this
tall Man
was gone, we had a
tall Woman,
and after that
Sadler's Wells Tumbling.
It is true, this pleas'd the Mob, and brought Money, nor was this Custom new. Did not the late Mr.
R—h
act in the same Manner by this Humour:
"
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 195.
In this Notion, says Mr.
Cibber,
he kept no Medium, for in my Memory he carried it so far, that he was some Years before this Time, actually dealing for an extraordinary large Elephant, at a certain Sum, for every Day he might think fit to show the tractable Creature's Genius of that vast quiet Creature, in any Play or Farce in the Theatre (then standing) in
Dorset Garden:
But from the Jealousy so formidable a Rival had raised in the Dancers, and by his Bricklayer's assuring him, that if the Walls were open'd wide enough for his Enterance, it might endanger the Fall of the House, he gave up his Project: But at the same Time of being under this Disappointment, he put in Practice another Project of as new, though not of so bold a Nature, which was introducing a Set of Rope Dancers into the same Theatre; for the first Day of whose Performance he had given out some Play in which I had a material Part: But I was hardy enough to go into the Pit and acquaint the Spectators near me, that I hop'd they would not think it a Disrespect to them if I declin'd acting upon any Stage that was brought to so low a Disgrace as ours was like to be by that Day's Entertainment. My Excuse was so well taken that I never after found any ill Consesequences, or heard the least Disapprobation of it: And the whole Body of Actors protesting against such an Abuse of their Profession, our cautious Master was too much intimidated to repeat it."
Now I was not hardy enough to make any publick Remonstrances on this Occasion; for I had a Point to carry, which was to fix my Wife's Character as an Actress, whose first Performance was to be closed with these
Sadler
's
Wells Tumblers:
On this Account it was my Business to be as well with the
Master
as possible; and, though I from my Soul abhor'd such Measures, yet no one was more bustling and commendatory in the Design than myself: By this I not only show'd an Attachment to his Interest, but kept myself on good Terms with the other Minister: But had I thought it would have been any
Gain
to me, to have
distress'd
the Master by making any Remonstrances, my Father's
Hardiness
should not have come up to mine; for I would not have gone sneaking into the Pit in hugger-mugger: Not I truly; But bounce upon the Stage, with blustering Mood, have stalk'd and made a speech, which, with pathetick Air in Words and Action, had represented our Disasters dire; and though they had hiss'd again and yet again, I'd have stood 'em all till they had heard me out.—On this ingenuous Confession of how I did act or how I would have acted, some may say,
Are these Principles honourable? Is not
this
servile Flattery, and
that
scandalous Injustice?—Are not Favours received strong Obligations for Gratitude?—
Well, Sir
Casuist,
what of all this?
Honour
and
Gratitude,
and
this
and
that
and
t'other
are quite
different Things,
according to the receiv'd Notions of
different Places;
for what is
dishonourable
and
immoral
in
England,
may be thought quite otherwise among the
Hottentots:
A Man in
London
may be thought odd if he offers his
Wife
for his
Friend's Service,
yet it is well known several Nations of
Negroes
practise it even to Strangers. If
Morality
is
local,
as I have fully prov'd, I have prov'd also there may be much
Difference
between
theatrical Honour
and
common Honour:
Now my Notion of
theatrical Honour
is to act only for your own
Convenience,
and you can do no
Injustice
if you serve
yourself.
If I should now be pertly ask'd,—What THE', where are thy Morals? Hast thou no
Conscience?
Yes, I have, but what then? That I have embrac'd the Philosophy of Mr.
Colley Cibber,
I told the Reader in a prior Chapter; and what does that great and good Man say in his three hundredth Page,—
"I did it against my
Conscience;
and had not Virtue to starve by opposing a Multitude that would have been too hard for me.—Had
Harry the Fourth of
France a better Excuse for changing his Religion? I was still in my Heart on the Side of
Truth
and
Sense,
but I had their Leave to quit them when they could not support me; for what Equivalent could I have found for my falling a Martyr to them."
—O most admirable Doctrine! The Plea of
Convenience
is a full Answer for a Breach of
Conscience.—
Is not this a Doctrine that
Machiavel
himself might have boasted? Having here observ'd on what Maxims I and my Father act, some of our late Conduct, which shall be consider'd in a subsequent Chapter, may now be easily accounted for. Though our Notions may be exploded by some, Mr.
Colley Cibber
has, among M
nkind, more Disciples than Mr.
George Whitfield;
and this I am sure of, their Zeal is stronger, as there are many who die
Martyrs
to his Doctrine every
Sessions
at the
Old-Bailey,
having liv'd in a full Faith, that to do what they think
convenient,
is to do
right.
There is a private Anecdote of my Life, which is a Proof how early I imbib'd this convenient Opinion; I have indeed often related it to my theatrical Acquaintance with much Glee of Heart, and boastful Satisfaction; but as I would be by this Apology,
Toto notus in orbe Theophilus,
I cannot resist the Temptation of inserting it in these my Memoirs. You must know, Reader, that even by the Time I had reach'd my eighth Year, my Papa said I was a sad
young Dog,
and upon some Prank I had play'd, I was in some Disgrace: It happen'd I went into his Chamber, to endeavour a Reconciliation one Morning; and as he had gone to Bed in his Cups over Night, he had, I suppos'd, drop'd a couple of Guineas out of his Breeches; be that how it will, I saw the two pretty sparkling Rogues lie at the Edge of the Carpet, by his Bed-side: What does I, but Slap runs to the happy Spot, fell on my Knees, and, like a good and dutiful Child, cried out, in a devout Tone,
Pray, Father, bless me, and pray to G—d to bless me, and make me his true and faithful Servant for ever and ever,
Amen.—He, surpris'd at such a sudden Strain of filial Duty, (for I don't believe I ever ask'd him Blessing twice before in my whole Life) stroak'd me down the Head, and bid me rise, by which Time I had, by Slight of Hand, touch'd the Spankers, and convey'd them snug into my Pocket;—and he will never have heard of them since, till he reads this
Apology
for such an Action; that, as I thought they would be a
Convenience
to me, my
Conscience
was not too dainty to take them.
—E minimis majora.—
All this Harangue on my Philosophy is necessary, though it may seem odd to many Readers, because it is an
apologetical
Defence for every Action of my Life at once: I may indeed illustrate it by more Instances in the Sequel of my Story, but shall now return where this Digression began.—The Company went on under Mr.
F—d
with very great Success, equal to the greatest under
Cibber, Wilks,
and
'Booth:
As for me, I was occasionally more or less in his Favour and Interest as it suited my own Convenience; for he show'd me many Instances of his Readiness to serve me, and was on all Occasions prompt and ready to do Acts of
Friendship
and
good Nature.
The Stage was then as well rul'd by
my Assistance,
as a Gentleman not brought up to it, cou'd rule it; yet as it was my Opinion, and several other Players, that
no Gentleman
is proper for the
Master
of a
Theatre,
we were not absolutely contented, and we did not want for
Grumbletonians
in a
theatric Government.
We knew indeed that our
Master
had redeem'd us from a thousand Inconveniencies we had labour'd under, gave us our own Terms, but yet we did not look upon him with an equal Eye, and thought that Actors were the only proper and fit Persons to rule over Actors, and receive all the Profits of a Theatre. These, I say, were Maxims that the chiefest Actors embrac'd, and inculcated into others, as the fundamental Rights of our Constitution: On this the Company became uneasy, and form'd themselves into little Factions, and Cabals, but which could not then have been attended with any ill Consequences to the Patentee. But these little Murmurings were greatly heighten'd by the following Event. On the late Act for licensing the Number of Stages taking Place, Mr.
Giffard
's Company acting then at
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,
to whom Mr.
Rich
had let it, were oblig'd to break up, and provide for themselves in the acting Companies as well as they could: Mr.
F—d
on this Occasion took severa! into
Drury-Lane,
and to make Way for them, dismiss'd several, who had long been appertaining to that Theatre. Mrs.
Giffard
and Mr.
Giffard
were themselves likewise afterwards engag'd. This gave new Uneasiness to the old Stock, for we look'd on them in a contemptible Light; and when the Season came on, and Parts were cast to these
exotic
Actors, still more and more murmuring Taunts and Jealousies arose. The Master favour'd several of these additional Recruits in a particular Manner, and seem'd to make them his Confidents and Favourites. This still made more Faction in our State, till at last it was divided into two Parties, the
Riff-Raffs,
and the
Scabs.
The first were the Master's Party, the latter
mine;
his were as the present Courtiers, and mine as the
Patriots.
The Titles may seem coarse to the Ears of Delicacy, but why not as good and significant as the present Names of Distinction in
Sweden,
the
Hats
and the
Night-Caps,
or indeed as our own
Whig
and
Tory.
Another notable Mark of Distinction was, the Master's Party instituted a famous
Club
of
Riff-Raffs,
call'd the
Ox-Cheek-Club;
and this was erected on the Ruins of a Club, which the old
Drury-Lane
Company had formerly erected. These Party-Divisions are in a theatrical Government as prejudicial to the publick Good, as in a political one. The Business of the Stage was not follow'd with that Spirit and Alacrity as when Unanimity reigns in the Hearts of the People. I did, I frankly confess, what a theatrical Patriot should do, foment all the Discord, raise all the Jealousies, in order, at a proper Time and Season, to raise a Rebellion, and bring about a new Revolution; and these Sentiments of
Patriotism
have been since very serviceable to me in another Respect, for in my
political Essays,
which I had the Honour to write in Defence of the
Present Administration,
I have charg'd all these Maxims home upon the Gentlemen in the Country-Party, for my Father has prov'd the Rules for the
Stage
and
State
are the same in Parallel, so also must be those of
Patriotism.
About this Time also I found the Wings of my Power clip'd in Relation of presiding over Rehearsals, and brought on one Morning a round Quarrel between
Q—n
and
Me;
for I had long look'd on him as a proud imperious Blockhead, and he on me as a vain impertinent Coxcomb; and perhaps we might both be somewhat right in our Conjectures. In this Contest I valued nothing so much as his Contempt of
Me;
for on my smart cutting Repartees on him, he cry'd, with a
Laugh, Quarrelling with such a Fellow, is like sh—t—g
on a
T—d,
walking off as cool as a Cucumber.—And that was the Sire of the Rencounter we afterwards had at the
Bedsord
Coffee-House. All these Affairs happening, and my Trial not turning out to my Favour, my Soul became chagrin'd both with the Place and my Master: I was therefore resolved to leave that Stage, and for such Reasons as you will meet with in the Sequel of my Story. Therefore as soon as my Benefit was over, I determin'd, according to an old Practice I had got, of being of no more Service to the Master that Season, to appear no more that Year, and indeed no more at all, while he was concern'd there.—Retiring therefore from
Covent-Garden
into the more agreeable and convenient Air of
Charing-Cross,
I flung off the
Comedian,
and commenc'd
Politician;
but as by entering on that Subject, I shall begin a new Farce, it would be more proper to let the Curtain of this Chapter drop here.
CHAP. IX.
The Author steps out of his Way: Turns M-n-st-r-l Writer.—The Reasons why. Some chimerical Thoughts of making the Stage useful.
"A Quiet Time in History, says Mr.
Colley Cibber,
like a Calm in a Voyage, leaves us but in an indolent Station: To talk of our Affairs when they were no longer ruffled by Misfortunes, would be a Picture without a Shade, a flat Performance at best."
This is his
Apology
for the Relation of his
stepping out of the Way,
and turning Pleader at the Bar; nor can I make any better for telling how I became a
M—al Writer.
The Affairs at
Drury-Lane
went on too successful for me to carry some Views I had into immediate Execution, therefore I thought it would be best to pave my Way to my Project by engaging the Favours of the
Minister,
and becoming his Advocate in Print. In this I thought to kill two Birds with one Stone, as I could at the same Time take an Opportunity of revenging myself to the full on Mr.
Fl—t—d,
by
satirizing
him, not only as to his
theatrical Affairs,
but with Regard to his
private Oeconomy.
Accordingly I went to work and wrote a Pamphlet call'd the
Country Correspondent,
in which I have shewn a Specimen of my moral, theatrical, political, and gallant Character. Some People immediately knew the Author, for
we
great Authors are soon found out let us take what Care we will to conceal ourselves. If I, or Mr.
Pope,
or my
Father
were to write any Thing without setting our Names to it, we should be discover'd in six Lines reading; the Stile, the Manner, the Thoughts would all glare out Perfection, and the inimitable
Ja ne scai quoy
would distinguish the Author. On my publishing the
Country Correspondent,
and being known for its
Sire,
many were the Criticisms upon it: Some called me a
Coxcomb
for writing so much upon
myself:
Some called me a
base impudent Fellow
for publishing such Invectives against Mr.
Fl—t—d,
who had been my
Friend:
Others fell foul on me because I had openly, boldly, and strenuously espoused the Cause of the
Minister.
As for being called a
Coxcomb,
I had been so long us'd to it that it seem'd as natural to me as my own Name; nor did the Accusations against me for libelling Mr.
Fl—t—d
give me any Pain: They who had odd Notions of
Honour
and
Honesty
said that I was an ungrateful Rascal, and this and that and t'other; but they might as well have sung Psalms to a Cow, for my
Philosophy
could
away with it.
What I did was conveniently necessary, and if from being an obliged Friend I became a mortal Enemy, what more is it than what frequently happens among
Ministers
of
State
and
Rulers
of
Empires. Augustus
and
Antony
had their fierce Contest for the World; and what was the Cause of the Quarrel between Sir
R—t W—e
and Mr.
P—y,
but Ambition in the one, and a Disregard of his Claims in the other. In all theatrical as well as political Divisions, to succeed in your Design you must go through
thick
and
thin;
the Sword of
Defiance
is drawn, and the Scabbard must be thrown away: Every one who has read
Machiavel
knows these Tenets are justifiable: therefore whatever
Falshood, Scandal, Infamy,
and
Ingratitude
my
Country Correspondent
might have contain'd against Mr.
Fl—t—d,
yet it being consistent with my
private Views,
no one who knows Men and Things can blame me; for I shall explain myself by giving some Reasons which were then in Embrio, why I so acted. I had determined to be as well with the
M—st—y
as possible, and to merit something from them, I undertook first to be a Kind of an
Informer
of what they call'd theatrical Secrets. Our Master had publickly espous'd the Party in Opposition to the
M—st—r,
and was firmly attach'd to the Interest of the P—of
W—
: This Conduct I heard was resented by the
M—st—r,
with whom he had once been on very good Terms: I thought therefore any private Intelligence against the Master, if I could possibly make it a
political
Concern, would be an Introduction to his Favour, and assist my future Scheme. An Incident happen'd as favourable as I could wish: A certain
Irish Author
was writing a
Tragedy,
which was, by his Friends, who were reckon'd the tiptop Criticks in Town, said to be a Performance of such extraordinary Merit, that no Tragedy since
Shakespear
's Time could equal it, either for the
Sublimity
of the
Ideas,
the
Dignity
of the
Stile,
the
Nobleness
of the
Subject,
and the
Conduct
of the
Scene:
That it was wrote in the Defence of
Freedom,
and had such Speeches that at that
Crisis
of Time it would run as long as
Cato
had at another particular
Crisis.
This
dainty Tragedy
was the much nois'd, much subscrib'd for GUSTAVUS VASA, written by HENRY BROOKE,
Esq
The Master had great Expectations from it; and though it had been often read in private Company before it was brought to the House; yet I knew little of it till then, as I was look'd upon as a Malecontent to the Master, and consequently out of the Secrets of the Ministry. But as soon as it had been read in the Green-Room, and the Parts deliver'd out to the Actors, and I was acquainted perfectly with the Play, I was determined I would take such Measures that it should not be acted; which would shew to the Minister what Zeal I had for his Service, and at the same Time, indulge that Spirit of Revenge which I had against the Master. Now what does I, but represented to Mr.—no Matter for his Name—but it was the proper Person to make such an
Information
to, that this same Tragedy of
Gustavus Vasa
was a scandalous Libel against the Government, and some Lines in the Praise of Liberty were so introduc'd as to make strong
Inuendoes
that the Liberty of
England
was in Danger: This I represented with such a Vehemence of Words and Action, that it gain'd Credit, and before it was ready to be perform'd, it was prohibited by my
Lord Chamberlain.
The Prohibition open'd the Mouths and Hearts of the Admirers of this Tragedy, and they talk'd roundly about the Injustice and Oppression the Author and the Master of the Playhouse met with, which they attributed to the Fear the Ministry had of its being perform'd on the Stage. Now to give my own impartial Thoughts on this Affair, I avow that I believe there was no Harm in the Play, nor do I think it would have met with that great Success as was expected from it; for on the Publication it was not judg'd near equal to the Character that had been given it. However I cannot but make this Observation, that from the Action on the Stage, and the Assistance of the Scenes and Actors, it might have received such additional Strength, that it might, by the further Aid of a Party, have had a Run of ten Nights. And here I must observe again, that it was with great Policy and Prudence, that the Minister obtain'd the
Licensing Act,
for though the
Liberty
of the
Press
allows a refus'd Play to be printed, yet the Reading of it in the Closet will not convey an adequate Idea to the Representation on a Theatre: Mr.
Colley Cibber,
who is a most strenuous
Champion
for the
Licensing Act,
has fully consider'd this Difference between a Performance
printed
only, and when it is acted.—Thus he argues
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 169.
—
"It was said that this Restraint upon the Stage would not remedy the Evil complain'd of: That a Play refus'd to be licens'd would still be printed with double Advantage, when it should be insinuated that it was refus'd for some Strokes of Wit, and would be more likely then to have its Effect among the People: However natural this Consequence may seem, I doubt it will be very difficult to give a
printed
Satire, or Libel, half the Force or Credit of an
acted
one. The most artful or notorious Lye, or strain'd Allusion that ever slander'd a great Man, may be read by some People with a Smile of Contempt, or at worst it can but impose on one Person at once. But when the Words of the same plausible Stuff shall be repeated on a Theatre, the Wit of it among a Crowd of Hearers is liable to be overvalued, and may unite and warm a whole Body of the Malicious and Ignorant into a Plaudit: Nay, the, partial Claps of only twenty ill-minded Persons among several hundred of silent Hearers, shall, and often have been mistaken for a general Approbation, and frequently draw into their Party the Indifferent or the Inapprehensive, who rather than not be thought to understand the Conceit, will laugh with the Laughers, and join in the Triumph! But alas! the quiet Reader of the same ingenious Matter, can only like for
himself,
and the Poison has a much slower Operation upon the Body of a People, when it is so retail'd out, than when told to a full Audience by Wholesale: The single Reader too may happen to be a sensible, unprejudic'd Person, and then the merry Dose, meeting with the Antidote of a sound Judgment, perhaps may have no Operation at all: With such a one the Wit of the most ingenious Satire will only, by its intrinsic Truth or Value, gain upon his Approbation, or, if it be worth an Answer, a printed Falshood may positively be confounded by printed Proofs against it. But against Contempt and Scandal heighten'd by the Skill of an Actor, ludicrously infusing it into a Multitude, there is no immediate Defence to be made, or equal Reparation to be had, for it would be but a poor Satisfaction at last, after lying long patient under the Injury that Time only is to shew which would probably be the Case, that the Author of it was a desperate Indigent, that did it for Bread: How much less dangerous and offensive then, is the
written
than the acted Scandal? The Impression the Comedian gives it, is a Kind of double Stamp in the Poet's Paper, that raises it ten Times to the intrinsic Value.
Upon the whole; if the Stage ought ever to have been reform'd; if to place a Power somewhere of restraining its Immoralities was not inconsistent with the Liberties of a civiliz'd People, (neither of which any moral Man of Sense can dispute) might it not have shewn a Spirit too poorly prejudic'd to have rejected so rational a Law, only because the Honour and Office of a Minister might happen, in some small Measure, to be protected by it."
I must annotate, that all that is said here in Reference to comic Satire, and the Comedian, is,
vice versa,
equally applicable to the Tragedy and Tragedian: For when a mad brain'd tragic Author has stream'd into a Patriotic Stile, pompously rolling into vilifying Periods, signifying roundly nothing, but Invectives against a Minister, the pompous Buskins and Plumes of Tragedy, together with the Aspect and Elocution of the Tragedian, so speak and play with the Imagination, that they deceive the Judgment, and win over many Spectators who might have thought them scandalous Bombast, had they been read soberly in the Closet. This, as I observ'd, was the Fate of
Gustavus Vasa,
Esq
for after the Prohibition, the Author publish'd Advertisements for a Subscription, aad in those Advertisements made his Cause the Cause of the Publick, insinuating it was refus'd for some Strokes of Liberty, which were disagreeable to People in Power: This indeed answer'd his Ends in point of Profit, for being the first Play refus'd since the Commencement of the Act, People's Curiosity were rais'd not only by wanting to see the prohibited Play, out of political Reasons, but because it was said by common Rumour to be a most excellent Tragedy: The Profit of the Subscription was equal to what his most sanguine Hopes might have promis'd him from the Stage. As this may be the most proper Place for it, I must insert another Remark on refus'd Plays. After this Success of the Subscription of
Gustavus Vasa,
all the tragic Bards who were under the Influence of Mr.
L—tt—t—n,
Prime Minister at
N—rf—k
House, threw into bombast Scenes all the Patriot-Liberty Flights their own little Geniuses could suggest, or their Patron and Court of Assistants could muster up! Some indeed say they did not, on this Occasion, insert any Thing new, but that they had all from the first, wrote according to their Instructions, and had fill'd their Scenes with the worn-out, unfashionable Notions of Liberty and publick Spirit: The next refus'd Plays were the
Edward
and
Eleonara,
of Mr.
Thompson
at
Covent-Garden,
and a Tragedy wrote by Mr.
Pattison
at
Drury-Lane,
both of which were publish'd by Subscription, and advertis'd that they fell the Martyrs to Freedom, publick Spirit, and the Devil and all: But, as the homely Proverb says, Enough is as good as a Feast: The Publick had been cram'd by
Esq
Gustavus
to Satiety; and Satiety, from a natural Effect it has on the Generality of Stomachs of Mankind, will not allow an Avidity for more; for, as Mr.
Colley Cibber
philosophically and beautifully observes
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 79.
,
What Pleasure is not languid to Satiety
Ditto,
p. 171.
. . . . . Satiety puts an End to all Taste that the Mind of Man can delight in:
Therefore their Subscriptions fell short of Mr.
Brooks
's considerably; and I believe the Patriot-Poets begin now to feel the ill Consequences of an Opposition to a certain great Man as much as the Merchants: The Merchants would have a War, and they have had their Hearts full of it: The Poets would write up to a Refusal, and I believe they begin heartily to repent it:
We
of the Court have, I gad, given them their Bellies full: I and Sir
R. . . t
play all the Game, and let us shuffle the Cards theatrically, or patriotically, we still turn up Knave. . . . But halt a little, most gracious Reader, in the Fulness of my Heart I have digress'd so long, that I don't know where I digress'd from: But that is just my Father's Way, for as we write, so we do but write on, 'tis sufficient; as for Method and Connexion, we leave them to your little Geniuses; our Irregularity in writing, like our Irregularity in living, is more beautiful from its Deformity: Were we not singularly eminent, we might die unnoted by Fame; but it is our Extravaganzas in Life which mark us out to the
Gaze
and
Wonder
of the present Age; and the
inexpressible Somewhat
in our Apologies will record us the most notable
Par nobile
of the Year 1740, excepting, with due Submission, that great
Par nobile Fratrum,
who in
A. . . . . str. . . . . . n
and
Negociation
have so eminently distinguish'd themselves to all
Europe.
But seriously to recover the Clue of my History; from having given Reasons why I abus'd Mr.
F. . . . d
in my ministerial Essays, I digress'd to my turning
Informer
about
Gustavus Vasa,
and so deduc'd some historical Anecdotes concerning that dainty Piece, and added some political Remarks from
Cibber
's Apology, in Defence of the
licensing Act. . . .
Let me see. . . Ay, it was so.—I will now draw the Back Scene of my Proceedings, and still enlarge the Prospect: It was in the Vacation of last Summer, when having retreated from
Covent-Garden,
I retir'd to
Charing-Cross.
My Enemies gave out, that I went there for some trifling Sums I had run in Debt for at Mrs.
St—w—d
's, and some other fashionable reputable Bawdy-Houses in
Covent-Garden
Piazzas. . . . Vile Insinuation! How weak the Understanding of Man to account for Conduct of great Men, when they are ignorant upon what Principles they move.—What reflective Witticisms and Inuendoes have been flung at Sir—about this secret Expedition, which has been so long fitting out: What Things have been said about a Suspension, or Cessation of Arms, and I don't know what, when, at the same Time, the great Man acts upon other Measures than they guess, and intends to proceed on other Motives than they imagine.—I was us'd in the same Manner as to my
secret Expedition
to
Charing-Cross:
And as it is now over, and to put such fruitless Revilers to the Blush, I will tell them my Motives to it:
Imprimis,
as I was going to commence M—al Writer, it was proper I should live near the M—r, not only for more easily attending his Levees, but to be more readily sent for to attend a private Conference, and receive Instructions whom I was to lash, what I was to defend, what gainsay, when to give the evasive, and when the downright Lie: All which Things are necessary for a Writer to know, who has such a Patron to defend.—As for the Frequency of my private Conferences, and the Nature of my Instruction, I shall prudently be silent; Instructions given to Ambassadors, tho' mov'd for by Members of the House of C—s to be laid before them, are not to be revealed in such a Manner: But as to my frequenting a
Levee
in
Downing-street,
that is notoriously known; and I can say, with some Elevation of Heart, few in his Circle were more distinguish'd for their Sense, Learning, Virtue, Honour, Policy, Ability, and Eloquence, than your little humble Servant
T. C.—
But besides these Reasons, my Printer and Publisher lived at that Place, and it is best for an Author to confer with his Printer very often; as how the Sale goes on, and whether any Cash is become due, without mentioning the Necessity of correcting the Sheets from the Press; for what a sad Figure an Author makes in Print who don't know how to make his Stops: I therefore always stop my Works myself: though as for the Spelling I leave that to the Printer's Boy. Sure then these are sufficient Reasons to take off the Obloquy that was cast on me, that vile
Catchpoles
drove me to a Place which I out of mere Policy retired to. — Well, there it was I composed my
Country Correspondents,
in all which I continued my Attack on Mr.
Fl—t—d;
and in a miscellaneous rhapsodical Way defended the P— M—r Tooth and Nail: In Taverns I eat for him, drank for him, talk'd for him, and when I went home about Four o'Clock in the Morning I wrote for him.
Aurora Musis Amica.
Then wou'd I write about it and about it.
I continued this zealous and satirical Fury for the whole Summer, nor did I write
County Correspondents
only, but sometimes occasional
Gazetteers,
in both which Kinds of Writing I equally succeeded.
This strenuous Attachment of mine to the
Administration,
drew on me the Abuse of the
Country Party;
and I was libell'd under the Character of
Pistol
in a scandalous Paper call'd
Common Sense.
The Author of that Journal is a profligate forging Fellow; for he inserted Letters from
Pistol,
with an Insinuation (as I go by the Name of
Pistol
) that they came from me, which was as
notorious
a
Fib
as his Predecessor
Mist
told of
Colley Cibber;
and I take this Opportunity to avow to the whole World that I never had any thing to do with
Common Sense,
nor ever will: Fron my
Soul
I
heartily
despise it; and from this Moment, till
Atropos
with fatal Shears shall snip the spinning Thread of vital Life,
Common Sense
and I are Enemies, and so, Mr.
Common Sense,
your humble Servant.— But it seems my great Apologist himself was droll'd upon for his State-writings: I mean the Comedy of the
Non-Juror,
and
Myn
er Keyber
was a standing Joke till at last
Mist
fairly kill'd him. — Take the Story in his own Words.
"Soon after the
Non-Juror
had receiv'd the Favour of the Town, I read, in one of
Mist
's Journals, the following short Paragraph:
Yesterday died Mr.
Colley Cibber,
late Comedian of the Theatre Royal, notorious for writing the
Non-Juror. The Compliment in the latter Part I confess I did not dislike, because it came from so impartial a Judge; and it really so happen'd that the former Part was very near true; for I had just that very Day crawl'd out, after having been some Weeks laid up with a Fever: However I saw no Use in being thought to be thoroughly dead before my Time, and therefore had a Mind to see whether the Town cared to have me alive again. So the Play of the
Orphan
being to be acted that Day, I quickly stole myself into the Part of the
Chaplain,
which I had not been seen in for many Years before. The Surprize of the Audience at my unexpected Appearance on the very Day I had been dead in the News, and the Paleness of my Looks seem'd to make it a Doubt whether I was not the Ghost of my real Self departed: But when I spoke their Wonder eas'd itself by Applause, which convinc'd me they were then satisfy'd that my Friend
Mist
had told a
Fib
of me. Now if simply to have shewn myself in broad Life, and about my Business, after he had notoriously reported me dead, can be called a Reply, it was the only one which his Paper, while alive, ever drew from me: But my particular, Offence of writing the
Non-Juror
has made me more honourable Friends than Enemies; the latter of which I am not unwilling should know that that Part of the Bread I now eat was given me for having writ the
Non-Juror.
"
This shows that though we State Writers are jok'd upon, yet Reward makes up for these Squibs of Drollery. I may be ask'd why I was so voluntary a Champion for the M—r, and why I relate this Account of State Writing, and intersperse political Memoirs and Remarks in this Apology, as they do not immediately relate to the History of the Stage. Some
John Trot
may sagely reply, that I write in this Manner merely to imitate the Manner of
Colley Cibber.—
But, Mr.
Trot,
you are mistaken;
Colley Cibber
interspers'd
Defences
of
Lord Chamberlain's Power,
and
Licensing Act,
for the same Reason that I wrote
Country Correspondents
and
Gazetteers,
to create Merit with the M—y, which we, at a proper Time, migh: make use of: The private Reason of writing these, and abusing Mr.
Fl—t—d
all tended to the same Point: I have often promis'd to tell them to the Reader, and the Secret shall lie no longer a Burden to me, but out it shall.
Mr.
Colley Cibber
retired from the Stage, having
patiently
sold his Share of the Patent to Mr.
Highmore,
when he had
managed
him so that he had got
his own Price,
and then he
wish'd the Crew he left in the Vessel a good Voyage;
yet, says he,
"though it began to grow late in Life with me, having Health and Strength enough to have been as useful on the Stage as ever, I I was under no visible Necessity of quitting of it."
As an undoubted Proof of that, he has several Seasons since, on very valuable Considerations from Mr.
F—d,
perform'd occasionally on the Stage. But though he had quitted the Theatre, and sold his Share in it, when he had staid with new Patent
, and made them think it worth their while to come up to his Price; yet the sweet Profits of the Management of a Theatre remain'd strongly in his Mind; and notwithstanding all his Professions of the Love of Retirement, he would gladly have been reinstated in the Government of a Theatre, could he have obtain'd such an Office, and not to have cost him any Thing. Now as he knew that I was a strong Malecontent at
Drury-Lane,
and was sensible what Torrents of Ambition roll'd tumultuously o'er my Soul, having deriv'd their Source from his own Spring, he was assured that I would come into any Scheme that would sooth my Ambition, and put me at the Head of a Company
ver which I was to have any
profitable
Share of the Management; for
Ambition
will be but an inglorious Passion if not founded upon
Interest:
It is the
Utile Dulci
should govern the Thoughts and Actions of the rational Part of Mankind. Acquainted with my Principles, and having seen what an
Achitophel
I was in theatric Policy; how adroit in raising Commotions, stirring up Revolts, heading Rebellions, and bringing about Revolutions, he thought proper to communicate to me a Design of gaining over to his Interest some principal Players of
Drury-Lane
Company, and then setting up a new Company under a License, which he did not doubt, for his great Merit and Services, he could easily obtain.—This Scheme jump'd with my own Way of Thinking, and I came into it with Heart and Hand; nor did he omit hinting to me that his only Motive to such a Design,
when it began to grow late in Life with him,
was purely to retrieve the Honour of the
British Theatre,
and leave me handsomely provided for. Now though I knew he did not care a Rush for me, nor would, out of pure Love, give me a Farthing to keep me from the Gallows, yet I had learn'd Art enough to disguise my real Opinion, and give his Proposal the Turn he would have it take. Having resolved on this Design, we did secretly all we could to bring it about; for your important Schemes cannot be executed as soon as plan'd, and therefore we were oblig'd to wait a proper Opportunity, which was, while the Articles of some of the principal Actors under Mr.
Fl—t—d
were expired. In the mean Time, last Summer, to deserve something from the M—y when I should petition for any Favour,
more Paterno,
I took up my Pen, wrote
Country Correspondents
and
Gazetteers
in Defiance of
Common Sense
and all its Adherents.—So, Mr.
Reader,
you now know for what Reason I commenc'd
Politician:—
Well, methinks I hear some
John Trot
object and say,—Is writing
Country Correspondents,
and
Gazetteers
of such Consequence?—Yes, Sir, to write as I did, and lay about me like a
Drawcansir,
and all that, Sir, is look'd on as meritorious; and Merit is to be rewarded.—All that Summer was chiefly spent in
Politicks
and
Amours;
for I, as well as Sir—, or—, must have my Relaxations and Divertisements after the Concerns of a Nation have been pothering in my Brain:—I remember the old Maxim:
Interpone tuis interdum gaudia Curis.
Which I thus render:
Sometimes the Cares of Empire to remove,
Retreating to your Miss, indulge your Love.
A Maxim I always follow, when fatigued either with the Affairs of the
State,
or the
Stage,
and the Example of my Betters keep me in Countenance, when I make this publick Confession of it.—To return:—That my Politicks would not support me, I soon found out, though had a particular
Right Honourable Gentleman
taken me more particularly under his Patronage, it might have been worth
his
While, as well as
mine;
I might have been of great Service to him, for I could have made as good a
Bustle-Master-General
in St.
St—s
's
Chapel,
as behind the
Scenes:
Of this I gave him a Hint in one of my Pamphlets, and told him with what an Air the
young Captain
could Ioll in his
Chariot,
while it roll'd down to the House, and that he could make Speeches to a
Senate,
as well as to an Audience.—But if People can't take a Hint, whose Fault is that? Perhaps he wanted more explicit Explanation, but my
consummate Modesty
not suffering me to make such an Attempt, it may have been my Disappointment.—However I have this Consolation, I am not the first Man of
Merit
who have suffer'd by that simple Virtue—As I was not taken such Notice of as my Vanity had suggested I deserv'd, I retreated from the Service.—The Practice of all great Men on such Occasions.
—Scipio, and others have done it.—
As I was resolv'd not to act with Mr.
F—d
again, and he equally resolv'd not to
let
me, I engaged with Mr.
Rich;
and appear'd on
Covent-Garden Theatre.—
I so manag'd Matters, that I soon became
Bustle-Master-General
there, and made the Under-Actors and Under-Servants of the Theatre know who they had got among them. As my Enemies will allow I am a clever Fellow in my Way, I must here mention the Success I met with in my theatrical Way; I had long sighed to perform the Character of
Bayes
in the
Rehearsal,
but my own Fears, and my Father's inimitable Action, still so fresh in every Memory, clip'd the Wings of my Ambition: However I was resolv'd to make a Push at it, and propos'd to my new Master the getting up the
Rehearsal.—
Rehearsal, said he,—umph! And who can do
Bayes?
O! Sir, says I, you need not have ask'd that Question, when you have taken me into your Company.—Umph! says he,—and took a Pinch of Snuff, and remain'd silent.—I urg'd the Thing, and what Houses it would bring, if I had the Management of getting it up. . . . His Answer came from him by half Sentences, and Inuendoes, and Pinches of Snuff, as, . . .
No, . . . 'Twont do. . . .
[Snuff]
The Character. . . . The Character of Bayes supported it. . . . 'Twas a Hazard. . . . 'Twou'd be an Expence. . . . Wou'd advise me not to think of it. . . .
[Snuff]
My Father indeed to have play'd it might do something. . . . The Town wou'd make Comparisons. . . . Perhaps not for my Advantage. . . . The Expences, in short, wou'd be too considerable. . . .
(Here it was easy to understand him) I therefore propos'd to him to add such a ludicrous Spectacle, as, by his Advice and Assistance, might bring great Audiences, though a Thing of a trivial Nature. . . . Here I knew I should tickle him: In short, I propos'd to reinforce
Bayes's Troops,
and, with a new Set of
Hobby Horses,
raise two new Regiments, who should Exercise in martial Order upon the Stage, and by their capering and prancing like menag'd War-Horses, divert the Multitude; and that the
Captandum vulgus
he knew was the
sine qua non
in the Theatre. . . . This did all I wanted; he came into my Scheme, and was so very full of the additional Troops, that he undertook to
raise
them
himself,
which he not only did, but attended at all their
Exercises
and
Musters,
and
Reviews,
was
Riding-Master, Adjutant-General,
and
Generalissimo. . . .
When it was perform'd I met with an Applause might satisfy the greatest Vanity; and my
Hobby-Horse Regiments
had as great Applause as myself: The remaining Part of the Season went on with great Success to the Master, by my Rehearsal, and my additional Troops had as many Spectators at
Covent-Garden
as his M—'s Houshold Troops at a Review in
Hyde-Park:
This continu'd till the Master brought his
Orpheus
and
Eurydice
on the Stage, after which there was no Occasion for Mr.
Bayes;
the
Twinkum Twankum
of Mr.
Orpheus,
and the
Metamorphoses
of
Monsieur Harlequin,
put my Troops to the Rout. However at the Close of the Season, I made a Rally, and brought myself and my Army for one Night more into the Field. . . . To explain; I prevail'd with Mr.
Rich
to let me have
another Benefit
the last Night but one of performing on the Theatre for this last Season: I say
another
having had about
four
others within the Year.
The Frequency of my having Benefits demands some Consideration in this Apology, as some Persons have given themselves Airs to censure me for it, and besides it may bring out some theatrical Anecdotes and Rules necessary for future and less experienc'd Actors. As the having Benefits is suppos'd to raise a Sum of Money to reward an Actor, and as it is raising it in an honest Way, what Crime is it if an Actor could get a Benefit-Play every Week? . . . O, but cries Mr.
Oeconomist,
who will buy but one Pit-Ticket in a Season?
This is an Imposition on the Publick, and severe Tax on your Tradesmen, your Acquaintance, and your Acquaintence's Acquaintance?
Ay, it might seem so indeed, if they were all, as for
myself,
but I have more Modesty to make unreasonable Requests. . . In short, Sir
Wisacre,
there is an Art to conduct such Things with a Gloss, and an Art of which I am the original Inventor: I shall illustrate this by Matters of Fact, as I practis'd them. . . . When I engag'd in that notorious Trial of my Cuckoldom, I stood in Need of the Essence of Law, for Money is the Sinews of Law, as well as War; and to raise it, the easiest and only Way was by having a Benefit. I ask'd Mr.
F . . . d
this as a Favour, and a good natur'd Office, to enable me to obtain Justice for my Heartwracking Injuries: Though this was at a very good Part of the Season, he, compassionating my Necessities, comply'd: Now comes the Thing; I thought at that Crisis, having a Benefit in my own Name might be not so proper, and without it, you'll say, how could you get a full House? . . . . Why, I found out a Way to have a Benefit, and a full House, and Nobody know it: Not to keep you in Suspence, I got my Father to play for me, and Mr.
F . . . d
to let me have the House, so it was done at once. . . . You'll say this was very friendly of the Master, . . . but that is allover. . . . Two Months after I had a Benefit in my own Name; that was mine by right, and I need say no more on it. . . . But about three Months after I wanted another Benefit, which was in the Summer-Season. . . . Then I was engag'd to Mr.
Rich,
and got Leave for the House, and some Brother-Actors, to play
gratis. . . .
But I did not tell the Publick it was my Benefit: No, I knew better; I touch'd them in a tender Point, and told them it was to support my dear Infant Children which I had left by my first Wife
Jenny . . .
And so put at the Top of the Bills,
For the Benefit of Miss
Betty
and Miss
Molly,
&c. . . .
Some indeed saw through this Artifice, but it pass'd current enough with the Majority. . . . At
Christmass
I was to have had another, but the Weather prevented it: I have had
another
in my Course among the Actors, and
another
after them, because I did not get enough by the former. . . . I must observe, that on these Occasions I always find some Topick to display my
Oratory
on, which I print at the Bottom of my Bills, either as Advertisements or Remonstrances, or Petitions, or something or other, and circulate them, among the Gentry and Nobility, Tradesmen, Acquaintance and Strangers: Besides which, I generally speak an
Epilogue
of
Jo. Haynes
's riding on an
Ass;
and to shew how I can laugh at Persons calling me by Mock-Names, I advertis'd it,
to be spoke by the young Captain in his Regimentals, riding on an Ass. . . .
This may seem a trifling Story to the
untheatrical Reader;
but I write this to instruct Posterity, who are engag'd in a Theatre, by what Means they may manage their Affairs; and I hope from these Hints some future Genius may find much Profit and Emolument.
The Season being clos'd, I again retir'd to
Charing-Cross,
but not to write Politicks, if the Reader has any Curiosity to know what important Affair I went thither for, that I might safely negociate it, let him peruse the Beginning of the subsequent Chapter.
CHAP. X.
The Situation of Affairs at
Drury-Lane
Theatre.—The Scheme to get a new Licence explain'd.—The Reason for the Publication of Mr.
C. Cibber
's Apology given.—The Scheme miscarries.—A most heroick Rhapsody.—A Dissertation on
Property.
—An Apology for writing another Chapter.
I Am now entering on a Theme which will surprize the Publick, because it is such a Piece of secret History, as will be a
Key
to several elaborate
Digressions
in the
Apology
of Mr.
Colley Cibber:
I must previously observe, that in his historical Part of the Stage he was very well vers'd in the
Rebellions, Revolts
and
Revolutions
of his Time, till he had fix'd the Government of the Stage under a
Triumvirate,
of which he himself was one; and from the Time of his quiting his Share in the Patent, no one is better vers'd in
Rebellions, Revolts, Revolutions, Factions, Oppositions,
&c. &c. than
myself:
Two Persons of such Experience might bring about great Things in a
theatrical State,
more especially if the People were divided, and Heats and Animosities were fomented among them. I have acquainted the Reader of some great Design which was in Embrio, and which we only wanted an Opportunity to execute: This was for my Father, after having rais'd Uneasinesses and Jealousies among Mr.
F—d
's Company, to obtain a Licence for a new Company.—Some private Affairs of Mr.
F—d
's gave us the Opportunity we so much desir'd.—For as through the Confusion Things were at
Drury-Lane
Theatre, and through a violent Distemper, he could not appear himself; and a Report prevailing, which we industriously rumour'd as Truth, that he would never return to the Management of his Theatre again, we could not only the better solicit the
Actors,
but even the
Chamberlain,
and with less Opposition: To work we went, and indeed we at first met with such hopeful Success, that I was not a little elate, and form'd much imaginary Triumph in my Heart. However, Mr.
F—d
took such Measures as to the Actors, that he thought, maugre all our Projects, he should be able to retain a good Company at
Drury-Lane:
To traverse this Design, and with a specious View of acting justly, Mr.
C . . . y C . . . r
represented to the L . . d
Ch . . . . n,
that there was an absolute Necessity for having another Company form'd, as Mr.
F . . d
had very injuriously treated his chief Actors, and that there were very large Arrears due to them: To impose still the more on the
Ch . . . n,
there were some Actors waited on the L . . d
Ch . . . n,
introduced by Mr.
C. C.
and made such Remonstrances as were thought proper: Thus we carried on the Sollicitation, which occasioned an Order to be sent to Mr.
C . . . . . d,
Prompter of the Theatre, that none of the Company should engage in any other Company, or elsewhere, without his Knowledge and Permission. This we look'd, in a Point, gain'd in our Favour, to prevent any Actors making fresh Agreements, which Mr.
F—d
thought some Persons view'd it in another Light, and imagin'd it was to prevent any Actors going
from him.
When these Negociations were thus carrying on, we had, we thought, another favourable Incident: Mr.
F—d
was taken extremely ill of the Gout, and he was in such Danger that his Life was despair'd of: Nay, it was reported one Night that he was
dead,
and it was inserted as Truth in the
publick Papers
of next Day. I first heard it at the
Tavern,
and that was the Occasion of my
Bacchinalian Transports
Quo me Bacche rapis,
&c.
in a prior Chapter. But though this Report was false, yet so dangerous an Illness prevented his b
stling about as he might otherwise have done; yet he managed so well, that our Representation of the Affairs of
Drury-Lane Theatre
lost considerably of their Weight, as great Part was, on Examination, found not to be strictly true, and that Mr.
C. C.
had notoriously utter'd several
Fibs
both of the State of
Drury-Lane,
and the
Menager
of it.
It may be objected that Mr.
C. C.
and
myself,
and
others,
were very great
Scoundrels
to take such an Advantage of a Gentleman, being in a desperate Illness, and who had, at a vast Expence, purchas'd the Patent, and had redeem'd the
Hay-market
Company from the desperate State they labour'd under: Some added, that, not only taking such an Advantage was unjust, but that telling
Fibs
were more so.—But pray let me answer all Objectors. Is not in the transacting all
State Affairs
between
Kings
and
Potentates
all advantageous Opportunities to be taken? Does not
Policy
require, when any Thing offers which may prove beneficial, that without any Qualm of
Conscience,
the
Prime M . . . r
of any Kingdom is to make Use of it, be it never so
unjust
or
detrimental
to a
Rival Power?
Suppose the taking of
Carthagena,
or even the Island of
Cuba
would break the haughty Heart of the
Queen
of
Spain,
Is our Ministry to desist gaining Part of her Dominions for Fear of being the Death of her? . . . Not many People would think so: . . . Though perhaps that
tender-heartedness
of the
M . . . r
may be the Reason why Admiral
Vernon
was not supported with
Land-Forces. . . .
But
. . . Ne Sutor ultra Crepidam. . . .
Then, Sir, as for telling a few
Fibs,
what mighty Matter is there in that, when the
Fibs
may go a great Way to carry the Cause? In all caballing, theatrical or political Fibs are the most Essential requisite; and moreover it is known in
Fibbing
you must
fib
roundly: If it is not discover'd, you, ten to one, impose on those you represent the State of the Case to, and carry your Views: And if you are discover'd, 'tis only pleading that you yourself have been impos'd on by 17 others: Were all the
Fibbers
in a Court to take Shame to themselves for practising such an Art, we might soon see some very great Men in Disgrace: Then, why may not the
Fibbers
(or . .
ibbers)
of a Theatre take the same Scheme, without any Reflection of Scandal. I am so far from my thinking an Excellence in this Practice is any Reproach, that as for my Part I value myself on it mightily, and intend, for the publick Good, to write an
Essay
on the
Art
of
Fibbing,
which I design to publish next Winter by Subscription. But a thorough Answer to all moral Objections, is mine and Mr.
Colley Cibber
's
Philosophy;
if our
Conscience
can
away with it,
we may lay our Hands to our honest Hearts, and vow we have acted like Men of
Honour;
and who can gainsay us? . . .
The Reader, now acquainted with these Anecdotes concerning Mr.
Colley Cibber,
may, if they have read his Apology, account not only for his political Essays on the Stage, his
chimaerical
Thoughts for the Improvement of it, but also for so true a Publication of it at the Time he was
solliciting a new Licence.
As I am a candid Historian, I will not conceal some Remarks which I have heard made when his
History
and his
Conduct
have been compar'd, as if they were
inconsistent
with one another: He is said, throughout his
Apology,
to have endeavour'd to prove, that the
Multiplicity
of
Theatres
is contrary to the useful Consequences which may accrue from a wellgovern'd Stage. . . True. . .
"I know it is a common Opinion, says he, that the more Play-houses the more Emulation: I grant it; but what has this Emulation ended in? Why a daily Contention, who shall surfeit you with the best Plays? So that when what
ought
to please can no longer please, your Appetite is again to be rais'd by such monstrous Presentations as Dishonour the Taste of a civiliz'd People. If indeed to our several Theatres we could raise a proportionable Number of good Authors, to give them all different Employment, then perhaps the Publick might profit from their Emulation: But while good Writers are so scarce, and undaunted Criticks so plenty, I am afraid a good Play and a blazing Star, will be equal Rarities."
*
Vide C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 56.
. . . This has been urg'd as a Reason why Mr.
Colley Cibber
should not have sollicited a Licence to have set up a new Company, and that it was against his own Maxims: But pray not so fast: He remains in this Opinion still against the Multiplicity of Play-houses in the Main; and if he had set up another, it would have been only
in ordine ad,
to have ruin'd Mr
F . . . d
's Company, and to have reduc'd the Number to
two
again: To effect this, he is such a Judge of
Taste,
he would have given no
monstrous Presentations,
but such as might have done an
Honour
to a
civiliz'd People:
But then say you, this, he says himself, could not be done without
good Authors;
and
good Writers
are very scarce. . . . . They are so, but would there not have been HIMSELF and MYSELF to have entertain'd the Town, so that all these sutile Objectio
s fall to the Ground. Again, says Mr.
Objector,
after Mr.
Colley
has enter'd himself a
voluntary Champion
for restraining the Number of Playhouses, and given the
Publick a Pourtrait of his Mind, to let them see how far he is or is not a Blockhead, when he pretends to talk of serious Matters above his Capacity,
he thus strengthens his Arguments;
"And now we have seen the Consequence of what many People contend for, Variety of Play-houses! How was it possible so many could subsist on what was to be seen? How could the same Stock of Plays supply four Theatres, which not well support two? . . Had this Law been made seven Years ago, I should not have parted with my Share in the Patent under a thousand Pounds more than I receiv'd for it.—So that as far as I am able to judge, both the Publick, as Spectators, and the Patentees as Undertakers, are, or might be in a Way of being better entertain'd, and more considerable Gainers by it."
All this amounts to no more, than as this Law prohibits an
unlicens'd
Number of Playhouses, the Value of the Direction of a
Theatre
may increase, and that Mr.
Colley Cibber
might have been a very considerable Gainer, if he
obtain'd
a
Licence
to have been an
Undertaker
of another: We had such sanguine Hopes of Success, that we had fix'd on the Place to have encamp'd in, and have open'd our Campaign: It was the
Opera-house
in the
Hay-market,
where the Revolters of his own Time fix'd, but which he would have had alter'd to the Plan of
Drury Lane;
this is hinted at in several Parts of the
Apology;
but in Page 184, he proves it a proper Spot, and the Hopes that such a Project might succeed,
"From the vast Increase of the Buildings
[Grosvenor-Square, &c.]
I have mention'd, the Situation of that Theatre has receiv'd considerable Advantages; a new World of People of Condition are nearer to it than formerly; and I am of Opinion that if the Auditory Part were reduc'd, a little more to that of the Model of
Drury-Lane,
an excellent Company of Actors would now find a better Account in it, than in any other House in this populous City. Let me not be mistaken; I say an excellent Company, and such as might be able to do Justice to the best Plays, and throw those latent Beauties in them, which only excellent Authors can discover, or give Life to: If such a Company were
now,
there they would meet with a quite different Set of Auditors than other Theatres have been lately us'd to."
—Here, in his own Words, you have the
Ground-Work
of our Scheme: And who is there can doubt, but under
his
Direction and
mine,
the
Morals
of a Theatre must have been
reform'd,
for what by our
known Virtues,
and experienc'd
Knowledge
of
Goodbreeding,
we should have made our Theatre the School of
Manners, Virtue,
and
Politeness. . . .
For has he not in his
Chap. II.
Chimaerical Thoughts of making the Stage useful, built a Theatre in the Air, to prove
Apology, p. 24. K 2
his Concern that the Theatres have not a better Pretence to the Care and further Consideration of those Governments where they are tolerated.—There
WAS
a Time,
adds he,
and not yet out of many Peoples Memory, when it subsisted upon its own rational Labours; when even Success attended an Attempt to reduce it to Decency; and when Actors themselves were hardy enough to hazard their Interest in the Pursuit of so dangerous a Reformation.—
Now as all know what WAS may be again, we flatter'd ourselves that we should have brought about a theatric Reformation: And more especially from the
Publication
of the
Apology,
having laboriously and zealously shewn in it, what
"
C. Cibber's
Apology, p. 206.
Regard was always paid to the Power of a
Lord Chamberlain,
and what Influence and Operation that Power must naturally have in all theatric Revolutions."
But oh! thou curst, inconstant, fickle—B—ch;
Thou Strumpet Deity,
FORTUNA
hight;
Thou, thou with painted Looks and Eyes alluring,
Who smil'd delusive on my fairest Hopes;
Just, just upon the Brink of full Enjoyment,
With jilting Mein thou turn'st thy Backside on me,
And smil'st indignant at my aim'd Embrace!
Curse on my wayward Fate!—Curse on my Stars!—
Under what Star theatric was I born?—
Ye Gods! why gave ye to me such a Soul
That swells and pants with such ambitious Throws,
Yet Torture it with Disapointments vile?
Fl—d
's superior Genius has undone me;
HE, Eagle
like, o'er me—a meer
Tom-Tit—
Tow'rs 'yond my Sight, and mocks my aching View—
—But it is Well.—Anon, and yet anon
The Goddess,
Fair Occasion,
call'd, may smile,
And I will catch her by her
Forelock
fast;
For so the Fair is gain'd:—And so I sink
Into the calmer Thoughts of mild Philosophy.—
—Oh! gentle Reader, excuse this heroic Agitation of my Soul; the Thoughts of what I am going to tell you,
hit the Cause that touch'd my Brain,
and threw me into this passionate Rhapsody: After all our Hopes, after all our Negociations, Sollicitations, Representations, Lucubrations, and Apologies, the Theatre
Colle
Cibber built in the Air,
must still remain in
Nubibus, though
Ditto,
p. 208.
it was in a much better Taste than any he had seen; and we have only now Leave to play with the Project in Fancy.—
In plain
English,
my
Lord
Chamberlain
denied us a License, on so foolish a Reason (begging my Lord's Pardon for the Expression) as, he would not consent, without any Foundation of Reason, for us to invade a Gentleman's Property: But my Lord has another Way of thinking, as to moral Obligations, than
C. . . y C. . . r;
and however he may approve of him as an entertaining Companion, he has no Opinion of him as a Moral Philosopher. It is not becoming in me to call his
Grace's
Parts into Question; nor do I: They are above the Description of my Pen, though that can sometimes soar such Heights, as may be beyond the Ken of common Understanding: But I may ask this digressive Question,
What is
PROPERTY?—It is merely having the Possession of a Thing, which Possession gives a just Right to it till dispossess'd thereof: For as Possession is universally allowed to be Nine Parts of the Law out of Ten, it is to be supposed it is Nine Parts of Justice out of Ten; and consequently should be the Ballance of every Man's Actions.—As for Instance, If a Tradesman,
viz.
a Woollen Draper, Haberdasher, If a Tradesman,
viz.
a Woollen Draper, Haberdasher, Mercer, Laceman,
&c.
had particular Goods in their Shops, their Goods during that Time are their Properties: They are so. Well, the Taylor purchases some of them from the several Shops, and they become
his.
Now if I order the Taylor from those Goods to make me a handsome Suit of Cloaths, and he makes them and delivers them to
me,
will any one say they are the Property of the Woollen-Draper, Haberdasher, Laceman,
&c.
or Taylor? No, they are
mine.—Ay,
says Sir
Sneerer, if you have paid for them.—
Ay, Sir, if I have not paid for them too.—The Cloaths,
durante possessione,
are legally mine; and as my Property I wear them.—The Taylor indeed may bring his Action at Law; and then I play least in Sight; but still wear the Cloaths.—He forces me to the Verge of the Law; I still wear the Cloaths; and, till he is able to beat me out of all my strong Holds, I make no Consideration of his Claim to them, or an Equivalent for them.—Property fluctuates and changes Masters: 'Tis a quick Inheritance:
Hae
es Haeredem velut unda supervenit undam.
Forgive the Lowness of my Illustration, and making myself an Example: But Truth is Truth, however mean the Object may be that demonstrates it. If you would have a more elevated Idea, behold the fluctuating Property of the greatest Empires and Kingdoms of the World: Your
Medes
and your
Persians
are no longer govern'd by their
Cyrus
's and
Darius
's.
—Alexander
's Family are not in Possession of the territorial Property which he himself took from others.—But why need I be prodigal of my historical Learning.—Does not the illustrious
Kouli Kan,
at this very Day, make the Dominions of the
Sophi
of
Persia
his Property; and has he not made the vast Riches and Provinces of the
Great Mogul
his Property; and is he not meditating to make other Provinces of the
Ottoman
Empire his Property?—But you say this is Injustice, and that he, in fact, is an Usurper,—A
Fico
for Distinction of Names; while he is in Possession of his Territories, and at the Head of his Armies, he is a Prince.—I only wish I could be the
Kouli Kan
of the
Theatre,
and the
Mobile
might give me whatever Name or Title they pleas'd besides to distinguish me by.—But do not our
European
Potentates act on the same Principle: If they can once gain Possession, by Fraud or Force, of a convenient Island, or Tract of Land, or Dominion, do they not think they have a just Right to it, and that it becomes their Property?—Would any good
Englishman
doubt our indisputable Right to
Gibraltar, Minorca, Jamaica,—
or
Hispaniola
and all the
American World
if we could take them from the
Spaniards,
nd afterwards keep them.—If, therefore I, either
Vi
or
Fraude,
could get any Part of the theatric Dominions, am I to blame?—Or if I, the
young Captain
at Land, meeting with a rich trading Taylor, should plunder him of a laced Suit of Cloath
, why am I to be censured more than another Captain at Sea, who plunders a
Caracca
S
p?
O but,
says my Opponent,
I suppose—the publick Property of Nations, and the private Property of Subjects are
differently
to be considered.—
I am your humb
e Servant for that, my Dear: By my Philosophy I look upon the State of Nature as a State of War; all is sair Play in this Scramble for the Goods of the World; and I think myself, in this Respect, acting in as just Principle as any Potentate living.
Why was not I the Twentieth by Descent,
From a long restive Race of droaning Kings!
Ye Gods! why gave ye me a Monarch's Soul,
And crusted it with base
Plebeian
Clay?
Dryden's Spanish Fryar
What a Bustle-Master General would I have made among the Princes of the World, and elbow'd all the Monarchs round about me.—But,
non sic Dii voluere.—
Therefore in mimic Parallel among the Plumes of Tragedy, and Struts of Ambition, I shew a Dawn of what, had I been a Prince, I should have acted.—
But to return from this Digression on Property.—Our Hopes were frustrated, as to forming a new Company by the Sanction of a License from the
Lord Chamberlain;
and Mr.
Colley Cibber
's Ambition and private Views have the same Fare as mine.—He, indeed, may please himself with his Follies, having a plentiful Provision for Life, and still have the Joy he took in the End of an old Song.
My Mind, my Mind is a Kingdom to me.
He like a loose Philosopher may again say,
Me while my laughing Follies can deceive,
Blest in the dear Delirium let me live,
Rather than wisely know my Wants and grieve.
But, for my Part, I must again submit to return to the Stage a Servant instead of a Manager; which had I known some Weeks ago, this Apology had not, as yet, have been wrote, nor my Father's would not, as yet, have been publish'd: But as I am drawn into this historical Narration of the Stage, which is, in fact, a true and necessary Appendix to his, I will make it as compleat as possible; for which Reason, I shall enter on another Chapter, that I may give the theatrical Characters of the principal Actors now living, not only as it will be in Mr.
Colley Cibber
's Manner, which I promis'd to follow in my Title Page, but, in fact, as this Apology will not be,
An Historical View of the
STAGE
during my
OWN TIME, without them: The drawing Characters is the most difficult Province of a Historian; and very few, either antient or modern, have succeeded in them: They who sneer at
Cibber
's
Apology
in general, approve of his characterizing his Co-temporaries; they own the Draught is masterly, and the Colouring entertaining. I am sensible therefore how hard the Task must be to give the Pourtrait of living Players, when all the Town is acquainted with the Originals: However, as I am of a strong Opinion this Apology, as well as the other, may live to late Posterity, I am not willing my
Co-temporaries
should be buried in Oblivion; and perhaps there may be no
Apologist theatrical
hardy enough to succeed me: My Friends of the Stage will therefore excuse my Manner, Partiality, and Expressions, and what they may not approve, as being too free, pass over with a Smile of Contempt; for, to conclude, I shall be as free with Mr.
C. Cibber
and
myself
as any of them, whose Characters I shall draw up as Parallels to one another: As I have given you, Reader, the Bill of Fare of the next Chapter, it is in your own Option whether you will set down to the Meal.
CHAP. XI, and Last.
The several theatrical Characters of some of the present Actors.—A Parallel between the
Author
and Mr.
Colley Cibber.
—The Conclusion.
A S I am now entering on a Province which is esteem'd the most difficult for an Historian to succeed in, I am under some Apprehensions that this Chapter may not only be the least entertaining, but may give Offence, when I have no Manner of Design that it should. To draw Characters requires not only a great Judgement but great Art, tho' you describe Persons that have lived some Years or Centuries before you write: But to draw the Characters of Persons living
—Hic Labor, hoc Opus est.—
Equally to avoid Flattery or Censure, and to keep strictly to a judicious Narration, is what few Historians have succeeded in at all; but to characterize your Cotemporaries, then living, requires such an honest Impartiality that still sewer have attempted it.—On these Considerations I would have wav'd giving any Characters of my theatrical Brethren; but on the Remonstration of some Friends that my History would not be compleat without them, I must, in Part, enter on this arduous Undertaking:
Jacta est Alea,
as
Caesar
said,
—The Die is cast,—We'll pass the
Rubicon: Proceed I must and will; therefore in the Conclusion of this prefatory Paragraph I shall chuse the Motto of another great Man,
Fari que Sentiat;
and so, Mr.
Reader,
and Sir
Actor,
I hope you will peruse the Rest of this History with Candour, if my Pictures are such as you in Truth know them to be: For, as the
Gazetteer
says,
"Most Writers seem to have it more in View to display their own Parts, or make their Court to the Person characteriz'd, to his Relations, Friends, and Dependants, than to draw him truly such as he was; and of many such it may be said as was said of the Painter who excell'd in Colouring and Proportion, That his Pictures had every Excellence but
Likeness.
"
—It may be wonder'd why I quote this Author; but I am willing to pay all Deference to an Author who has been engaged in the same Cause with myself, and perhaps my
individual
SELF: I only wish my Pictures may have some Likeness, which will, I believe, a
tone for the Want of other Excellencies, presuming this Attempt may be neither disagreable to the Curious, or the Frequenters of a Theatre, take it without any farther Preface.
In the Year 1740, the principal Actors, or whom I think the principal Actors, may be thus impartially and concisely pourtray'd.
As Tragedians claim, from their costly Plumes and Trappings, a Superiority of Merit over the Comedians, I shall begin with them; and taking the Liberty of deviating from
Cicero, Salust, Clarendon,
and all other Historians, except
Colley Cibber,
shall describe them just as I think proper.
Q—n
at
Drury-Lane
House, and
D-l-ne
at
Covent-Garden,
are the
Personae Dramatis
which are without Competitors: They both play the chief Characters in the same Cast, therefore I shall consider their different Characters together.
Q—n
has been many Years on the Stage, and has gradually rose up to that Height of Reputation he at present enjoys: When
Drury-Lane
Theatre was under the Direction of the late Mr.
Rich,
he was in the inferior Class; and the
Lieutenant
of the
Tower
in
Cibber
's Alteration of
Richard the Third
was one of the principal Parts he perform'd: The Cast of several Plays in Print fully prove his Abilities were then thought but very insignificant; however, on a new Company setting up at
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,
he was engag'd in it, and has ever since, but more especially on the Death of
Boheme,
gradually rose to a great Degree of Favour with the Publick: Mr.
Booth
's quitting the Stage still set him in a fairer Light, and indeed left him without a Rival: He had for some Time appear'd without any Competitor, when, all on a sudden, there appear'd at
Goodman's-Fields
a young Tragedian from
Dublin:
This was
D. . l. . ne.
Novelty, Youth, a handsome Figure,
&c.
took off from any severe Criticism on his Elocution and Action. In short, though so far from the polite End of the Town, he drew to him several polite Audiences, and became in such a Degree of Repute, that Comparisons were made between him and
Q—n;
nor was he without Admirers of both Sexes who gave him the Preference: He was not insensible of this, and determin'd to leave
Goodman's-Fields,
and indulge his Ambition at one of the Theatres Royal:
Q. . . n
just at that Time left
Covent-Garden
for
Drury-Lane,
and he engag'd with Mr.
Rich
at
Covent-Garden;
and in two or three Years on the Stage gain'd that Station on it, which most of the other Actors could not in many Years attain to.
Q. . . n
has the Character of a just Speaker, but then it is confin'd to the solemn declamatory Way: He either cannot work himself into the Emotions of a violent Passion, or he will not take the Fatigue of doing it: The Partiality of his Friends says he can touch the Passions with great Delicacy
if he will;
but general Opinion affirms he has neither Power of Voice or Sensation to give Love or Pity, Grief or Remorse their proper Tone and Variation of Features.
D. . l. . ne
is also esteemed a just Player; and though he has often a more loud Violence of Voice, yet, either from an Imitation of
Q. . . n,
or his own natural Manner, he has a Sameness of Tone and Expression, and drawls out his Lines to a displeasing Length: But that loud Violence of Voice is useful to him when Anger, Indignation, or such enrag'd Passions are to be express'd; for the shrill Loudness marks the Passion, which the sweet Cadence of
Q. . . n
's natural Voice is unequal to. In such Parts, especially
Alexander, D. . l. . ne
pleases many; for the Million, as
C. C.
says, are apt to be transported when the Drum of the Ear is soundly rattled: But on the contrary,
Q. . . n
's solemn Sameness of Pronunciation, which conveys an awful Dignity, is charmingly affecting in
Caio. D. . l. . ne
is young enough to rise to greater Perfection;
Q. . . n
may be said now to be at the Height of his: If
D. . l. . ne
has the more pleasing Person,
Q. . . n
has he more affecting Action: Both might soon appear with more Advantage if they were on the same Stage: The Rivalship of
D. . l. . ne
would give a spirited Jealousy to
Q. . . n,
and force him to exert himself; and
Q. . . n
's Judgment would improve the unfinish'd Action of
D. . l. . ne;
but they are the
Caesar
and
Pompey
of the Theatres, and one Stage would be incompatible with their Ambition;
Q. . . n
could bear no one on the Footing as an Equal,
D. . l. . ne
no one as a Superior.
M . . . lw. . . d
is an Actor with all the Happiness of Voice that can be imagin'd, and a Personage very well turn'd for the Lover or the Heroe; nor, when he is not indolently negligent, does he often betray a Want of Judgment: His Voice is sweet, with an uncommon Strength; and in the Decadence of it, there is a Softness which adapts it to touch the Passions of Grief, Love, Pity, or Despair. In Comedy the Easiness of his Dialogue in the genteel Characters seems very amiable; and though in his Action and Speech he does not imitate that quick snip-snap Catch of the late Mr.
Wilks,
to express Spirit and Vigour; yet his Voice and Gesture show such a Vivacity as are the just Effects of Nature: In low Comedy he has been seen to succeed beyond Expectation; and to speak all in a Word, according to Mr.
Cibber
's Description of
Mountford,
he is, or might be, the true Representative of him.
Of Mr.
William M . . . ls
I have said something in a preceding Chapter; all I shall add here is, that he is not excellent in Tragedy, the Inanity of his Voice being unequal to the Swellings and Throws of the Sublime: In Comedy he succeded to Mr.
Wilks
's Parts; has caught something of his Catch in the Voice; is always very busy on the Stage; and, what all Actors ought to value themselves upon, very perfect.
Griffin
and
Joe Miller
being dead, I shall give no Descriptions of them, nor of those who have succeded to their Parts; for if I should speak of their Excellencies, I should be tempted to mention the comparative Inequality of their Successors.—Like the great
Apologist
's Method of treating
Verbruggen, Keen, Boheme, &c. &c. &c.
I shall pass over the Rest of the present Players as Princes of pett
Fame: I shall therefore only speak of two Actresses, and Myself, and
Colley Cibber
in Parallel.
Mrs.
Cl. . . e
is esteem'd by all an excellent Comic Actress; and as she has a prodigious Fund of natural Spirit and Humour off the Stage, she makes the most of the Poet's on it. Nothing, though ever so barren, even though it exceeds the Limits of Nature, can be
at in her Hands: She heightens all Characters of Humour she attempts; nor is she confined only to the
H
yden
Miss or pert Chambermaid, but in spiritous gay Characters of high Life, she always appears with such Air, Mein, and Action, as speak the Gay, the Lively, and the Desirable. She has been, by Persons who remember both, compared to Mrs.
Mountsord;
and, by their natural Talents for the Stage, I am apt to believe the Comparison not unjust: I must however observe, Mrs.
Mountford
appear'd with great Success,
en Cavalier,
and made an adroit pretty Fellow: Mrs.
Cl. . . e
does not appear in these Characters, the concealing Petticoat better suiting with her Turn of Make than the Breeches: It is not from want of Spirit or Judgment to hit off the Fop or the Coxcomb, as she has evidently prov'd in the Ballad she Sings, call'd the
Life of a Beau,
in which her Action and Gesture is as pleasing as in any Part she performs: I could wish she would never attempt serious Characters in Comedy; and to resign the Part of
Ophelia
in
Hamlet,
in which she is very unequal to herself:—Yet all will allow, that
take her all in all,
she has such Talents as make her an excellent Actress.
Though Mrs.
Cl. . . e
is by far the most excellent Actress of the
Drury-Lane
Company, and to speak out the severe Judgment of experienc'd Criticks, the only Actress who has any
Excellence
in it, yet she has a Competitor in Fame at
Covent-Garden:
Mrs.
H. . . t. . . n
stands in the same Degree of Superiority on this latter Stage, as Mrs.
Cl. . . e
does on the former; but I must observe, that their Talents, Manner, Air, Gesture, and Cast of Parts are very different.
Mrs.
H. . . t. . . n,
though past the
heyday
of her
Beauty,
yet betrays so little decay of Youth, that an
inexpressible Somewhat
in her Air, Face, and Mein throws out such a Glow of Health and Chearfulness, that, on the Stage, few Spectators that are not past it, can behold her without
Desire;
and, in the Fullness of my Heart I may venture to confess, that the
Desirable
is so predominant in her that my Soul has a
Taste
or
Tendre
for Mrs.
H. . . t. . . n.
To speak critically of her as an Actress, in all Parts of a gay Impertinent, or the
Coquette,
she has all the Female Foppery that a giddy, lively, fantastick Creature can be affected with.—The Language, Dress, Motion, and Manners of a
Millamant
seem naturally her own; and I may say of her, what the great
Apologist
said of Mrs.
Bracegirdle
in that Part; that
"
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 103.
when she acts
Millamant,
all the Faults, Follies, and Affectation of that agreeable Tyrant were venially melted down into so many Charms and Attractions of a conscious Beauty."
—But besides these Foibles of the Fair Sex, she can rise into the decent Dignity of a fine Lady, and charm with the innocent Reserve of an
Indiana,
as by the fluttering
Je ne scai quoy
of a
Millamant.
In Tragedy, since the Death of Mrs.
Hallam,
she stands without any equal Competitor; for she has that Grace in her Presence, that clear Melody in her Voice, with Strength enough to express the Violence of some Passions, and Softness to subside into the Harmony of others, that no Actress now performing on either Stage can, in this Light, be compared to her.—There are some indeed, at both Houses, who
throw out some Proffers of a Genius,
yet cannot be rank'd in any Degree of
Perfection;
for either they heavily drag the Sentiment along, with a long-ton'd Voice, absent Eye, and Inanity of Gesture, or else with an impetuous Velocity of Voice, staring Eye, and unmeaning Superfluity of Action,
make the Performance come out odly disguis'd, or somewhere defectively unsurprising to the Hearer.—
As I mention no particular Persons, no particular Persons can take Offence: In Justice to my own Judgement I must acknowledge, that I unwillingly acquiesce in the Observation of many Judges, that the
two Theatres
never had, at any Time, so indifferent a Set of
Actresses
as at present; and among the younger Actresses I have not seen one who has shewn the least Genius for the Stage, which may ever make its Way towards Perfection. It may seem a Matter of Wonder to some, why they who have been excellent in a Theatre, as
Cibber, Wilks,
and
Booth,
did not bring up young Actors to succeed them; and this was indeed objected to their Administration:—
"
C. Cibber
's Apology p. 324.
And this, says the
Apologist,
was a Matter as easy as planting so many Cabbages.—"
True it is, indeed, good Actors and good Cabbages are not with equal Plenty produced: However, if there is a
natural Materia
in the
Actor
as there is in the
Cabbage,
I can see no Reason why he should not sprout as well as the Cabbage: Indeed he will afterwards require some Care to bring him to Perfection; so does the Cabbage:
This
cannot do without the enlivening Warmth of the Sun, and the
young Actor
requires to be chear'd by such little Parts as may gain him some little Applause; for
C. Cibber
's Apology, p. 157.
Publick Approbation is the warm Weather of a theatrical Plant:—
But it seems this would be too much Trouble for our theatrical Gardiners; they were not for turning
Nursery Men
of dramatick Cabbages, but to have bought them at Market; for, says the
metaphorical Apologist,
"
Ditto,
p. 324.
Let it be our Excuse then for that mistaken Charge against us, that since there was no Garden or Market where accomplish'd Actors grew, or were to be sold, we could only pick them up by Chance.—"
As for myself, I was a young
Sprout
from so admirable a
Stem,
that Nature threw out in me several Perfections, which I may rather call hereditary than acquired; and whether I am considered in a theatrical, poetical, political, or moral Capacity, the Reader will observe, through the Course of this History, there is some Truth in my Motto.
—Scquiturque Patrem—
Though through Modesty I am forc'd to add,
non passibus Aequis,
which give me Leave to render into a paraphrastick Couplet.—
His Father's Steps he follows to be great,
But not with equal Pace or equal Fate.
Some future Historian may thus write of us: The Father indeed had more of the
Sal Atticum
in his Genius, but then the Son excell'd him in an open hardy Confidence of Behaviour: COLLEY'S Conduct in Life was more on the Reserve than THE'S; but by THE'S making a Bustle in the World, he shew'd a superior Greatness of Soul: COLLEY had the cool Calmness of a designing Courtier; THE' the frank rash Spirit of a
young Captain;
The
Father
was the greater
Hypocrite,
the
Son
was the greater
Madman.—
COLLEY render'd himself remarkable by his
Fopperies,
THE' by his
Extravagancies:
Yet their private Virtues, publick Modesty, and Sentiments of Morality were, in fact, in the one and the other the same, though their publick Conduct was extremely different.—COLLEY had rather
be
immoral than be esteem'd so; THE' thought it more Glory, the more he acquir'd the Character of being so.—The Reputation of the one was only founded on private Rumour, but that of the other is on publick Record. In short, the
Father
had few Equals, the
Son
not
one.
Having brought the History of the Stage down from the Time my Father left it to the present Vacation, 1740, I can only add, after my Exploits, Hopes, and Ambition, I must return to Mr.
Rich,
as an hired Actor, and wait in dudgeon some more favourable Opportunity to make my Attempts on the theatric Dominions more successful: However those Attempts occasion'd this Apology, which will transmit my Name and Character to late Posterity; and I may conclude as
Ovid
does:
Jamque opus exegi quod nee Jovis Ira nec Ignes
Terram nec poterit nee Edax ab
lere Vetustas,
&c.
And now I've done a Work which neither
JOVE,
Ner all his Wrath, nor Thunderbolts above,
Nor ruthful Steel, nor all-devouring Time,
Shall e'er destroy this
History sublime.
FINIS.
ERRATUM.
I
P
ge
6, for
Li
ionst
read
Es
court.