Chapter XVI (2)
If the Merit of an Actor (as it certainly does) consists more in the Quality than the Quantity of his Labour; the other Menagers had no visible Reason to think this needless Ambition of _Wilks_, in being so often and sometimes so unnecessarily employ'd, gave him any Title to a Superiority; especially when our Articles of Agreement had allow'd us all to be equal. But what are narrow Contracts to great Souls with growing Desires? _Wilks_, therefore, who thought himself lessen'd in appealing to any Judgment but his own, plainly discovered by his restless Behaviour (though he did not care to speak out) that he thought he had a Right to some higher Consideration for his Performance: This was often _Booth_'s Opinion, as well as my own. It must be farther observ'd, that he actually had a separate Allowance of Fifty Pounds a Year for writing our daily Play-Bills for the Printer: Which Province, to say the Truth, was the only one we car'd to trust to his particular Intendance, or could find out for a Pretence to distinguish him. But, to speak a plainer Truth, this Pension, which was no part of our original Agreement, was merely paid to keep him quiet, and not that we thought it due to so insignificant a Charge as what a Prompter had formerly executed. This being really the Case, his frequent Complaints of being a Drudge to the Company grew something more than disagreeable to us: For we could not digest the Imposition of a Man's setting himself to work, and then bringing in his own Bill for it. _Booth_, therefore, who was less easy than I was to see him so often setting a Merit upon this Quantity of his Labour, which neither could be our Interest or his own to lay upon him, proposed to me that we might remove this pretended Grievance by reviving some Play that might be likely to live, and be easily acted, without _Wilks_'s having any Part in it. About this time an unexpected Occasion offer'd itself to put our Project in practice: What follow'd our Attempt will be all (if any thing be) worth Observation in my Story.
In 1725 we were call'd upon, in a manner that could not be resisted, to revive the _Provok'd Wife_,[173] a Comedy which, while we found our Account in keeping the Stage clear of those loose Liberties it had formerly too justly been charg'd with, we had laid aside for some Years.[174] The Author, Sir _John Vanbrugh_, who was conscious of what it had too much of, was prevail'd upon[175] to substitute a new-written Scene in the Place of one in the fourth Act, where the Wantonness of his Wit and Humour had (originally) made a Rake[176] talk like a Rake in the borrow'd Habit of a Clergyman: To avoid which Offence, he clapt the same Debauchee into the Undress of a Woman of Quality: Now the Character and Profession of a Fine Lady not being so indelibly sacred as that of a Churchman, whatever Follies he expos'd in the Petticoat kept him at least clear of his former Prophaneness, and were now innocently ridiculous to the Spectator.
This Play being thus refitted for the Stage, was, as I have observ'd, call'd for from Court and by many of the Nobility.[177] Now, then, we thought, was a proper time to come to an Explanation with _Wilks_: Accordingly, when the Actors were summon'd to hear the Play read and receive their Parts, I address'd myself to _Wilks_, before them all, and told him, That as the Part of _Constant_, which he seem'd to chuse, was a Character of less Action than he generally appear'd in, we thought this might be a good Occasion to ease himself by giving it to another.--Here he look'd grave.--That the Love-Scenes of it were rather serious than gay or humourous, and therefore might sit very well upon _Booth_.----Down dropt his Brow, and furl'd were his Features.--That if we were never to revive a tolerable Play without him, what would become of us in case of his Indisposition?----Here he pretended to stir the Fire.--That as he could have no farther Advantage or Advancement in his Station to hope for, his acting in this Play was but giving himself an unprofitable Trouble, which neither _Booth_ or I desired to impose upon him.--Softly.--Now the Pill began to gripe him.----In a Word, this provoking Civility plung'd him into a Passion which he was no longer able to contain; out it came, with all the Equipage of unlimited Language that on such Occasions his Displeasure usually set out with; but when his Reply was stript of those Ornaments, it was plainly this: That he look'd upon all I had said as a concerted Design, not only to signalize our selves by laying him aside, but a Contrivance to draw him into the Disfavour of the Nobility, by making it suppos'd his own Choice that he did not act in a Play so particularly ask'd for; but we should find he could stand upon his own Bottom, and it was not all our little caballing should get our Ends of him: To which I answer'd with some Warmth, That he was mistaken in our Ends; for Those, Sir, said I, you have answer'd already by shewing the Company you cannot bear to be left out of any Play. Are not you every Day complaining of your being over-labour'd? And now, upon our first offering to ease you, you fly into a Passion, and pretend to make that a greater Grievance than t'other: But, Sir, if your being In or Out of the Play is a Hardship, you shall impose it upon yourself: The Part is in your Hand, and to us it is a Matter of Indifference now whether you take it or leave it. Upon this he threw down the Part upon the Table, cross'd his Arms, and sate knocking his Heel upon the Floor, as seeming to threaten most when he said least; but when no body persuaded him to take it up again, _Booth_, not chusing to push the matter too far, but rather to split the difference of our Dispute, said, That, for his Part, he saw no such great matter in acting every Day; for he believed it the wholsomest Exercise in the World; it kept the Spirits in motion, and always gave him a good Stomach. Though this was, in a manner, giving up the Part to _Wilks_, yet it did not allow he did us any Favour in receiving it. Here I observ'd Mrs. _Oldfield_ began to titter behind her Fan: But _Wilks_ being more intent upon what _Booth_ had said, reply'd, Every one could best feel for himself, but he did not pretend to the Strength of a Pack-horse; therefore if Mrs. _Oldfield_ would chuse any body else to play with her,[178] he should be very glad to be excus'd: This throwing the Negative upon Mrs. _Oldfield_ was, indeed, a sure way to save himself; which I could not help taking notice of, by saying, It was making but an ill Compliment to the Company to suppose there was but one Man in it fit to play an ordinary Part with her. Here Mrs. _Oldfield_ got up, and turning me half round to come forward, said with her usual Frankness, Pooh! you are all a Parcel of Fools, to make such a rout about nothing! Rightly judging that the Person most out of humour would not be more displeas'd at her calling us all by the same Name. As she knew, too, the best way of ending the Debate would be to help the Weak; she said, she hop'd Mr. _Wilks_ would not so far mind what had past as to refuse his acting the Part with her; for tho' it might not be so good as he had been us'd to, yet she believed those who had bespoke the Play would expect to have it done to the best Advantage, and it would make but an odd Story abroad if it were known there had been any Difficulty in that point among ourselves. To conclude, _Wilks_ had the Part, and we had all we wanted; which was an Occasion to let him see, that the Accident or Choice of one Menager's being more employ'd than another would never be allow'd a Pretence for altering our Indentures, or his having an extraordinary Consideration for it.[179]
However disagreeable it might be to have this unsociable Temper daily to deal with; yet I cannot but say, that from the same impatient Spirit that had so often hurt us, we still drew valuable Advantages: For as _Wilks_ seem'd to have no Joy in Life beyond his being distinguish'd on the Stage, we were not only sure of his always doing his best there himself, but of making others more careful than without the Rod of so irascible a Temper over them they would have been. And I much question if a more temperate or better Usage of the hired Actors could have so effectually kept them to Order. Not even _Betterton_ (as we have seen) with all his good Sense, his great Fame and Experience, could, by being only a quiet Example of Industry himself, save his Company from falling, while neither Gentleness could govern or the Consideration of their common Interest reform them.[180] Diligence, with much the inferior Skill or Capacity, will beat the best negligent Company that ever came upon a Stage. But when a certain dreaming Idleness or jolly Negligence of Rehearsals gets into a Body of the Ignorant and Incapable (which before _Wilks_ came into _Drury-Lane_, when _Powel_ was at the Head of them, was the Case of that Company) then, I say, a sensible Spectator might have look'd upon the fallen Stage as _Portius_ in the Play of _Cato_ does upon his ruin'd Country, and have lamented it in (something near) the same Exclamation, _viz._
_--O ye Immortal Bards!
What Havock do these Blockheads make among your Works!
How are the boasted Labours of an Age
Defac'd and tortured by Ungracious Action?_[181]
Of this wicked Doings _Dryden_, too, complains in one of his Prologues at that time, where, speaking of such lewd Actors, he closes a Couplet with the following Line, _viz._
_And murder Plays, which they miscall Reviving._[182]
The great Share, therefore, that _Wilks_, by his exemplary Diligence and Impatience of Neglect in others, had in the Reformation of this Evil, ought in Justice to be remember'd; and let my own Vanity here take Shame to itself when I confess, That had I had half his Application, I still think I might have shewn myself twice the Actor that in my highest State of Favour I appear'd to be. But if I have any Excuse for that Neglect (a Fault which, if I loved not Truth, I need not have mentioned) it is that so much of my Attention was taken up in an incessant Labour to guard against our private Animosities, and preserve a Harmony in our Menagement, that I hope and believe it made ample Amends for whatever Omission my Auditors might sometimes know it cost me some pains to conceal. But Nature takes care to bestow her Blessings with a more equal Hand than Fortune does, and is seldom known to heap too many upon one Man: One tolerable Talent in an Individual is enough to preserve him from being good for nothing; and, if that was not laid to my Charge as an Actor, I have in this Light too, less to complain of than to be thankful for.
Before I conclude my History, it may be expected I should give some further View of these my last Cotemporaries of the Theatre, _Wilks_ and _Booth_, in their different acting Capacities. If I were to paint them in the Colours they laid upon one another, their Talents would not be shewn with half the Commendation I am inclined to bestow upon them, when they are left to my own Opinion. But People of the same Profession are apt to see themselves in their own clear Glass of Partiality, and look upon their Equals through a Mist of Prejudice. It might be imagin'd, too, from the difference of their natural Tempers, that _Wilks_ should have been more blind to the Excellencies of _Booth_ than _Booth_ was to those of _Wilks_; but it was not so: _Wilks_ would sometimes commend _Booth_ to me; but when _Wilks_ excell'd, the other was silent:[183] _Booth_ seem'd to think nothing valuable that was not tragically Great or Marvellous: Let that be as true as it may; yet I have often thought that, from his having no Taste of Humour himself,[184] he might be too much inclin'd to depreciate the Acting of it in others. The very slight Opinion which in private Conversation with me he had of _Wilks_'s acting Sir _Harry Wildair_, was certainly more than could be justified; not only from the general Applause that was against that Opinion (tho' Applause is not always infallible) but from the visible Capacity which must be allow'd to an Actor, that could carry such slight Materials to such a height of Approbation: For, though the Character of _Wildair_ scarce in any one Scene will stand against a just Criticism; yet in the Whole there are so many gay and false Colours of the fine Gentleman, that nothing but a Vivacity in the Performance proportionably extravagant could have made them so happily glare upon a common Audience.
_Wilks_, from his first setting out, certainly form'd his manner of Acting upon the Model of _Monfort_;[185] as _Booth_ did his on that of _Betterton_. But----_Haud passibus æquis_: I cannot say either of them came up to their Original. _Wilks_ had not that easy regulated Behaviour, or the harmonious Elocution of the One, nor _Booth_ that Conscious Aspect of Intelligence nor requisite Variation of Voice that made every Line the Other spoke seem his own natural self-deliver'd Sentiment: Yet there is still room for great Commendation of Both the first mentioned; which will not be so much diminish'd in my having said they were only excell'd by such Predecessors, as it will be rais'd in venturing to affirm it will be a longer time before any Successors will come near them. Thus one of the greatest Praises given to _Virgil_ is, that no Successor in Poetry came so near _Him_ as _He_ himself did to _Homer_.
Though the Majority of Publick Auditors are but bad judges of Theatrical Action, and are often deceiv'd into their Approbation of what has no solid Pretence to it; yet, as there are no other appointed Judges to appeal to, and as every single Spectator has a Right to be one of them, their Sentence will be definitive, and the Merit of an Actor must, in some degree, be weigh'd by it: By this Law, then, _Wilks_ was pronounced an Excellent Actor; which, if the few true Judges did not allow him to be, they were at least too candid to slight or discourage him. _Booth_ and he were Actors so directly opposite in their Manner, that if either of them could have borrowed a little of the other's Fault, they would Both have been improv'd by it: If _Wilks_ had sometimes too violent a Vivacity; _Booth_ as often contented himself with too grave a Dignity: The Latter seem'd too much to heave up his Words, as the other to dart them to the Ear with too quick and sharp a Vehemence: Thus _Wilks_ would too frequently break into the Time and Measure of the Harmony by too many spirited Accents in one Line; and _Booth_, by too solemn a Regard to Harmony, would as often lose the necessary Spirit of it: So that (as I have observ'd) could we have sometimes rais'd the one and sunk the other, they had both been nearer to the mark. Yet this could not be always objected to them: They had their Intervals of unexceptionable Excellence, that more than balanc'd their Errors. The Master-piece of _Booth_ was _Othello_: There he was most in Character, and seemed not more to animate or please himself in it than his Spectators. 'Tis true he owed his last and highest Advancement to his acting _Cato_: But it was the Novelty and critical Appearance of that Character that chiefly swell'd the Torrent of his Applause: For let the Sentiments of a declaiming Patriot have all the Sublimity that Poetry can raise them to; let them be deliver'd, too, with the utmost Grace and Dignity of Elocution that can recommend them to the Auditor: Yet this is but one Light wherein the Excellence of an Actor can shine: But in _Othello_ we may see him in the Variety of Nature: There the Actor is carried through the different Accidents of domestick Happiness and Misery, occasionally torn and tortur'd by the most distracting Passion that can raise Terror or Compassion in the Spectator. Such are the Characters that a Master Actor would delight in; and therefore in _Othello_ I may safely aver that _Booth_ shew'd himself thrice the Actor that he could in _Cato_. And yet his Merit in acting _Cato_ need not be diminish'd by this Comparison.
_Wilks_ often regretted that in Tragedy he had not the full and strong Voice of _Booth_ to command and grace his Periods with: But _Booth_ us'd to say, That if his Ear had been equal to it, _Wilks_ had Voice enough to have shewn himself a much better Tragedian. Now, though there might be some Truth in this; yet these two Actors were of so mixt a Merit, that even in Tragedy the Superiority was not always on the same side: In Sorrow, Tenderness, or Resignation, _Wilks_ plainly had the Advantage, and seem'd more pathetically to feel, look, and express his Calamity: But in the more turbulent Transports of the Heart, _Booth_ again bore the Palm, and left all Competitors behind him. A Fact perhaps will set this Difference in a clearer Light. I have formerly seen _Wilks_ act _Othello_,[186] and _Booth_ the _Earl of Essex_,[187] in which they both miscarried: Neither the exclamatory Rage or Jealousy of the one, or the plaintive Distresses of the other, were happily executed, or became either of them; though in the contrary Characters they were both excellent.
When an Actor becomes and naturally Looks the Character he stands in, I have often observ'd it to have had as fortunate an Effect, and as much recommended him to the Approbation of the common Auditors, as the most correct or judicious Utterance of the Sentiments: This was strongly visible in the favourable Reception _Wilks_ met with in _Hamlet_, where I own the Half of what he spoke was as painful to my Ear as every Line that came from _Betterton_ was charming;[188] and yet it is not impossible, could they have come to a Poll, but _Wilks_ might have had a Majority of Admirers: However, such a Division had been no Proof that the Præeminence had not still remain'd in _Betterton_; and if I should add that _Booth_, too, was behind _Betterton_ in _Othello_, it would be saying no more than _Booth_ himself had Judgment and Candour enough to know and confess. And if both he and _Wilks_ are allow'd, in the two above-mention'd Characters, a second Place to so great a Master as _Betterton_, it will be a Rank of Praise that the best Actors since my Time might have been proud of.
I am now come towards the End of that Time through which our Affairs had long gone forward in a settled Course of Prosperity. From the Visible Errors of former Menagements we had at last found the necessary Means to bring our private Laws and Orders into the 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 very rarely excus'd, was less frequently committed. You are now to consider us in our height of Favour, and so much in fashion with the politer Part of the Town, that our House every _Saturday_ seem'd to be the appointed Assembly of the First Ladies of Quality: Of this, too, the common Spectators were so well appriz'd, that for twenty Years successively, on that Day, we scarce ever fail'd of a crowded Audience; for which Occasion we particularly reserv'd our best Plays, acted in the best Manner we could give them.[189]
Among our many necessary Reformations; what not a little preserv'd to us the Regard of our Auditors, was the Decency of our clear Stage;[190] from whence we had now, for 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 Muscatos 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?
Future Actors may perhaps wish I would set this Grievance in a stronger Light; and, to say the Truth, where Auditors are ill-bred, it cannot well be expected that Actors should be polite. Let me therefore shew how far an Artist in any Science is apt to be hurt by any sort of Inattention to his Performance.
While the famous _Corelli_,[191] at _Rome_, was playing some Musical Composition of his own to a select Company in the private Apartment of his Patron-Cardinal, he observed, in the height of his Harmony, his Eminence was engaging in a detach'd Conversation; upon which he suddenly stopt short, and gently laid down his Instrument: The Cardinal, surpriz'd at the unexpected Cessation, ask'd him if a String was broke? To which _Corelli_, in an honest Conscience of what was due to his Musick, reply'd, No, Sir, I was only afraid I interrupted Business. His Eminence, who knew that a Genius could never shew itself to Advantage where it had not its proper Regards, took this Reproof in good Part, and broke off his Conversation to hear the whole _Concerto_ play'd over again.
Another Story will let us see what Effect a mistaken Offence of this kind had upon the _French_ Theatre; which was told me by a Gentleman of the long Robe, then at _Paris_, and who was himself the innocent Author of it. At the Tragedy of _Zaire_, while the celebrated Mademoiselle _Gossin_[192] was delivering a Soliloquy, this Gentleman was seiz'd with a sudden Fit of Coughing, which gave the Actress some Surprize and Interruption; and his Fit increasing, she was forced to stand silent so long, that it drew the Eyes of the uneasy Audience upon him; when a _French_ Gentleman, leaning forward to him, ask'd him, If this Actress had given him any particular Offence, that he took so publick an Occasion to resent it? The _English_ Gentleman, in the utmost Surprize, assured him, So far from it, that he was a particular Admirer of her Performance; that his Malady was his real Misfortune, and if he apprehended any Return of it, he would rather quit his Seat than disoblige either the Actress or the Audience.
This publick Decency in their Theatre I have myself seen carried so far, that a Gentleman in their _second Loge_, or Middle-Gallery, being observ'd to sit forward himself while a Lady sate behind him, a loud Number of Voices call'd out to him from the Pit, _Place à la Dame!_ _Place à la Dame!_ When the Person so offending, either not apprehending the Meaning of the Clamour, or possibly being some _John Trott_ who fear'd no Man alive; the Noise was continued for several Minutes; nor were the Actors, though ready on the Stage, suffer'd to begin the Play 'till this unbred Person was laugh'd out of his Seat, and had placed the Lady before him.
Whether this Politeness observ'd at Plays may be owing to their Clime, their Complexion, or their Government, is of no great Consequence; but if it is to be acquired, methinks it is pity our accomplish'd Countrymen, who every Year import so much of this Nation's gawdy Garniture, should not, in this long Course of our Commerce with them, have brought over a little of their Theatrical Good-breeding too.
I have been the more copious upon this Head, that it might be judg'd how much it stood us upon to have got rid of those improper Spectators I have been speaking of: For whatever Regard we might draw by keeping them at a Distance from our Stage, I had observed, while they were admitted behind our Scenes, we but too often shew'd them the wrong Side of our Tapestry; and that many a tolerable Actor was the less valued when it was known what ordinary Stuff he was made of.
Among the many more disagreeable Distresses that are almost unavoidable in the Government of a Theatre, those we so often met with from the Persecution of bad Authors were what we could never intirely get rid of. But let us state both our Cases, and then see where the Justice of the Complaint lies. 'Tis true, when an ingenious Indigent had taken perhaps a whole Summer's Pains, _invitâ Minervâ_, to heap up a Pile of Poetry into the Likeness of a Play, and found, at last, the gay Promise of his Winter's Support was rejected and abortive, a Man almost ought to be a Poet himself to be justly sensible of his Distress! Then, indeed, great Allowances ought to be made for the severe Reflections he might naturally throw upon those pragmatical Actors, who had no Sense or Taste of good Writing. And yet, if his Relief was only to be had by his imposing a bad Play upon a good Set of Actors, methinks the Charity that first looks at home has as good an Excuse for its Coldness as the unhappy Object of it had a Plea for his being reliev'd at their Expence. But immediate Want was not always confess'd their Motive for Writing; Fame, Honour, and _Parnassian_ Glory had sometimes taken a romantick Turn in their Heads; and then they gave themselves the Air of talking to us in a higher Strain--Gentlemen were not to be so treated! the Stage was like to be finely govern'd when Actors pretended to be Judges of Authors, &_c._ But, dear Gentlemen! if they were good Actors, why not? How should they have been able to act, or rise to any Excellence, if you supposed them not to feel or understand what you offer'd them? Would you have reduc'd them to the meer Mimickry of Parrots and Monkies, that can only prate, and play a great many pretty Tricks, without Reflection? Or how are you sure your Friend, the infallible Judge to whom you read your fine Piece, might be sincere in the Praises he gave it? Or, indeed, might not you have thought the best Judge a bad one if he had disliked it? Consider, too, how possible it might be that a Man of Sense would not care to tell you a Truth he was sure you would not believe! And if neither _Dryden_, _Congreve_, _Steele_, _Addison_, nor _Farquhar_, (if you please) ever made any Complaint of their Incapacity to judge, why is the World to believe the Slights you have met with from them are either undeserved or particular? Indeed! indeed, I am not conscious that we ever did you or any of your Fraternity the least Injustice![193] Yet this was not all we had to struggle with; to supersede our Right of rejecting, the Recommendation, or rather Imposition, of some great Persons (whom it was not Prudence to disoblige) sometimes came in with a high Hand to support their Pretensions; and then, _cout que cout_, acted it must be! So when the short Life of this wonderful Nothing was over, the Actors were perhaps abus'd in a Preface for obstructing the Success of it, and the Town publickly damn'd us for our private Civility.[194]
I cannot part with these fine Gentlemen Authors without mentioning a ridiculous _Disgraccia_ that befel one of them many Years ago: This solemn Bard, who, like _Bays_, only writ for Fame and Reputation; on the second Day's publick Triumph of his Muse, marching in a stately full-bottom'd Perriwig into the Lobby of the House, with a Lady of Condition in his Hand, when raising his Voice to the Sir _Fopling_ Sound, that _became the Mouth of a Man of Quality_, and calling out--Hey! Box-keeper, where is my Lady such-a-one's Servant, was unfortunately answer'd by honest _John Trott_, (which then happen'd to be the Box-keeper's real Name) Sir, we have dismiss'd, there was not Company enough to pay Candles. In which mortal Astonishment it may be sufficient to leave him. And yet had the Actors refus'd this Play, what Resentment might have been thought too severe for them?
Thus was our Administration often censured for Accidents which were not in our Power to prevent: A possible Case in the wisest Governments. If, therefore, some Plays have been preferr'd to the Stage that were never fit to have been seen there, let this be our best Excuse for it. And yet, if the Merit of our rejecting the many bad Plays that press'd hard upon us were weigh'd against the few that were thus imposed upon us, our Conduct in general might have more Amendments of the Stage to boast of than Errors to answer for. But it is now Time to drop the Curtain.
During our four last Years there happen'd so very little unlike 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 the way to greater, was the continued ill State of Health that render'd _Booth_[195] incapable of appearing on the Stage. The next was the Death of Mrs. _Oldfield_,[196] which happen'd on the 23d of _October_, 1730. About the same Time, too, 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_.[197] And our last Stroke was the Death of _Wilks_, in _September_ the Year following, 1731.[198]
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 hop'd while the former were in being; or that the generality of Spectators, from their want of Taste, were easier to be pleas'd 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, though 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 chimærical, 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 staid 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.[199]
What Commotions the Stage fell into the Year following, or from what Provocations the greatest Part of the Actors revolted, and set up for themselves in the little House in the _Hay-Market_, lies not within the Promise of my Title Page to relate: Or, as it might set some Persons living in a Light they possibly might not chuse to be seen in, I will rather be thankful for the involuntary Favour they have done me, than trouble the Publick with private Complaints of fancied or real Injuries.
_FINIS_.
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.
BY ROBERT W. LOWE.
The transaction to which Cibber alludes in his last paragraph is one with regard to which he probably felt that his conduct required some explanation. After the death of Steele, a Patent was granted to Cibber, Wilks, and Booth, empowering them to give plays at Drury Lane, or elsewhere, for a period of twenty-one years from 1st September, 1732.[200] Just after it came into operation Wilks died, and his share in the Patent became the property of his wife. Booth, shortly before his death, which occurred in May, 1733, sold half of his share for £2,500, to John Highmore, a gentleman who seems to have been a typical amateur manager, being possessed of some money, no judgment, and unbounded vanity. In making this purchase Highmore stipulated that, with half of Booth's share, he should receive the whole of his authority; and he accordingly exercised the same power of control as had belonged to Booth. Mrs. Wilks deputed Mr. John Ellys, the painter, to be her representative, so that Cibber had to manage the affairs of the theatre in conjunction with a couple of amateurs, both ignorant, and one certainly presumptuous also. He delegated his authority for a time to his scapegrace son, Theophilus, who probably made himself so objectionable that Highmore was glad to buy the father's share in the Patent also.[201] He paid three thousand guineas for it, thus purchasing a whole share for a sum not much exceeding that which he had paid for one-half. Highmore's first purchase took place in the autumn of 1732, his second somewhere about May, 1733; so that, when Drury Lane opened for the season 1733-34, he possessed one-half of the three shares into which the Patent was divided. Mrs. Wilks retained her share, but Mrs. Booth had sold her remaining half-share to Henry Giffard,[202] the manager of Goodman's Fields Theatre, at which, eight years later, Garrick made his first appearance. Highmore had scarcely entered upon his fuller authority when a revolt was spirited up among his actors, the chief of whom left him in a body to open the little theatre in the Haymarket. Shameful to relate, the ringleader in this mutiny was Theophilus Cibber; and, what is still more disgraceful, Colley Cibber lent them his active countenance. Benjamin Victor, though a devoted friend of Colley Cibber, characterizes the transaction as most dishonest,[203] and there is no reason to doubt the accuracy of his information or the soundness of his judgment. Davies ("Life of Garrick," i. 76) states that Colley Cibber applied to the Duke of Grafton, then Lord Chamberlain, for a new License or Patent in favour of his son; but the Duke, on inquiring into the matter, was so disgusted at Cibber's conduct that he refused the application with strong expressions of disapprobation. The seceders had of course no Patent or License under which to act; but, from the circumstance that they took the name of Comedians of His Majesty's Revels, it is probable that they received a License from the Master of the Revels, Charles Henry Lee. Highmore, deserted by every actor of any importance except Miss Raftor (Mrs. Clive), Mrs. Horton, and Bridgwater, was at his wits' end. He summoned the seceders for an infringement of his Patent, but his case, tried on 5th November, 1733, was dismissed, apparently on some technical plea. He could not prevail upon the Lord Chamberlain to exert his authority to close the Haymarket, so he determined to try the efficacy of the Vagrant Act (12 Queen Anne) against the irregular performers. John Harper accordingly was arrested on 12th November, 1733, and committed to Bridewell. On the 20th of the same month he was tried before the Court of King's Bench as a rogue and vagabond; but, whether from the circumstance that Harper was a householder, or from a decision that playing at the Haymarket was not an act of vagrancy,[204] he was discharged upon his own recognizance, and the manager's action failed. He had therefore to bring actors from the country to make up his company; but of these Macklin was the only one who proved of any assistance, and the unfortunate Highmore, after meeting deficiencies of fifty or sixty pounds each week for some months, was forced to give up the struggle.[205] Another amateur then stepped into the breach--Charles Fleetwood, who purchased the shares of Highmore and Mrs. Wilks for little more than the former had paid for his own portion. Giffard seems to have retained his sixth of the Patent. Fleetwood first set about regaining the services of the seceders, and, as the majority of them were probably ashamed of following the leadership of Theophilus Cibber, he succeeded at once. The last performance at the Haymarket took place on 9th March, 1734, and on the 12th the deserters reappeared on Drury Lane stage. This transaction ended Colley Cibber's direct interference in the affairs of the theatre, and his only subsequent connection with the stage was as an actor. His first appearance after his retirement was on 31st October, 1734, when he played his great character of Bayes. During the season he acted Lord Foppington, Sir John Brute, Sir Courtly Nice, and Sir Fopling Flutter; and on 26th February, 1735, he appeared as Fondlewife for the benefit of his old friend and partner, Owen Swiney.[206] At the end of the season 1734-5, an arrangement was under consideration by which a committee of actors, including Mills, Johnson, Miller, Theo. Cibber, Mrs. Heron, Mrs. Butler, and others, were to rent Drury Lane from Fleetwood, for fifteen years, at £920 per annum; but the arrangement does not appear to have been carried out, and Fleetwood continued Patentee of Drury Lane until 1744-5.
The rival company, under the control of John Rich, acted at Lincoln's Inn Fields from 18th December, 1714, to 5th December, 1732; then they removed to the new Covent Garden Theatre, which was opened on 7th December with "The Way of the World." For several seasons both companies dragged along very uneventfully, so far as the artistic advancement of the stage was concerned, although the passing of the Licensing Act of 1737, already fully commented on, was an event of great historical importance. Artistically the period was one of rest, if not of retrogression; the methods of the older time were losing their meaning and vitality, and were becoming mere dry bones of tradition. The high priest of the stage was James Quin, a great actor, though not of the first order; and among the younger players perhaps the most notable was Charles Macklin, rough in manner as in person, but full of genius and a thorough reformer. Garrick was the direct means of revolutionizing the methods of the theatre, and it was his genius that swept away the formality and dulness of the old school; but it ought to be remembered that the way was prepared for him by Charles Macklin, whose rescue of Shylock from low comedy was an achievement scarcely inferior to Garrick's greatest. During this dull period Cibber's appearances must have had an importance and interest, which, after Garrick's advent, they lacked.
In the season 1735-6 he acted Sir Courtly Nice and Bayes, and in the next season his play of "Papal Tyranny in the Reign of King John," a miserable mutilation of Shakespeare's "King John," was put in rehearsal at Drury Lane. But such a storm of ridicule and abuse arose when this play was announced, that Cibber withdrew it,[207] and it was not seen till 1745, when, the nation being in fear of a Popish Pretender, it was produced at Covent Garden from patriotic motives.
Cibber's implacable foe, Fielding, was one of the ringleaders in the attack on him for mutilating Shakespeare; and in his "Historical Register for 1736,"[208] in which Colley is introduced as "Ground-Ivy,"[209] gives him the following excellent rebuke:--
"_Medley._ As _Shakspear_ is already good enough for People of Taste, he must be alter'd to the Palates of those who have none; and if you will grant that, who can be properer to alter him for the worse?"
In 1738, having, as Victor says ("History," ii. 48), "Health and Strength enough to be as useful as ever," he agreed with Fleetwood to perform a round of his favourite characters. He was successful in comedy, but in tragedy he felt that his strength was no longer sufficient; and Victor relates that, going behind the scenes while the third act of "Richard III." was on, he was told in a whisper by the old man, "That he would give fifty Guineas to be then sitting in his easy Chair by his own Fire-side." Probably he never played in tragedy again until the production of his own "Papal Tyranny"--at least I cannot discover that he did. In 1740-1 he acted Fondlewife for the benefit of Chetwood, late prompter at Drury Lane, who was then imprisoned in the King's Bench for debt; and his reception was so favourable that he repeated the character a second and third time for his own profit.[210] Upon these occasions he spoke an "Epilogue upon Himself," which is given in "The Egotist" (p. 57 _et seq._), and forms so good an epitome of Cibber's philosophy, besides giving an excellent specimen of his style, that I quote it at length:--
"Now worn with Years, and yet in Folly strong,
Now to act Parts, your Grandsires saw when Young!
What could provoke me!--I was always wrong.
To hope, with Age, I could advance in Merit!
Even Age well acted, asks a youthful Spirit:
To feel my Wants, yet shew 'em thus detected,
Is living to the Dotage, I have acted!
T' have acted only Once excus'd might be,
When I but play'd the Fool for Charity!
But fondly to repeat it!--Senseless Ninny!
--No--now--as Doctors do--I touch the Guinea!
And while I find my Doses can affect you,
'Twere greater Folly still, should I neglect you.
Though this Excuse, at _White'_s they'll not allow me;
The Ralliers There, in Diff'rent Lights will shew me.
They'll tell you There: I only act--sly Rogue!
To play with _Cocky_![211]--O! the doting Dog!
And howsoe'er an Audience might regard me,
One--_tiss ye Nykin_,[212] amply might reward me!
Let them enjoy the Jest, with Laugh incessant!
For True, or False, or Right, or Wrong, 'tis pleasant!
Mixt, in the wisest Heads, we find some Folly;
Yet I find few such happy Fools--as _Colley_!
So long t'have liv'd the daily Satire's Stroke, }
Unmov'd by Blows, that might have fell'd an Oak, }
And yet have laugh'd the labour'd Libel to a Joke. }
Suppose such want of Feeling prove me dull!
What's my Aggressor then--a peevish Fool!
The strongest Satire's on a Blockhead lost;
For none but Fools or Madmen strike a Post.
If for my Folly's larger List you call,
My Life has lump'd 'em! There you'll read 'em all.
There you'll find Vanity, wild Hopes pursuing;
A wide Attempt: to save the Stage from Ruin!
There I confess, I have _out-done_ my _own out-doing_![213]
As for what's left of Life, if still 'twill do;
'Tis at your Service, pleas'd while pleasing you:
But then, mistake me not! when you've enough;
One slender House declares both Parties off:
Or Truth in homely Proverb to advance,
I pipe no longer than you care to dance."
The representative of Lætitia (or _Cocky_) alluded to in this Epilogue was Mrs. Woffington, with whom stage-history has identified the "Susannah" of the following well-known anecdote, which I quote from an attack upon Cibber, published in 1742, entitled "A Blast upon _Bays_; or, A New Lick at the Laureat." The author writes: "No longer ago than when the _Bedford Coffee house_ was in Vogue, and Mr. _Cibber_ was writing _An Apology for his own Life_, there was one Mr. S---- (the Importer of an expensive _Haymarket_ Comedy) an old Acquaintance of Mr. _Cibber_, who, as well as he, retain'd a Smack of his antient Taste. In those Days there was also a fair smirking Damsel, whose name was _Susannah-Maria_ * * *, who happen'd to have Charms sufficient to revive the decay'd Vigour of these two Friends. They equally pursued her, even to the _Hazard of their Health_, and were frequently seen dangling after her, with tottering Knees, at one and the same Time. You have heard, Sir, what a witty Friend of your own said once on this Occasion: _Lo! yonder goes_ Susannah _and the two Elders._" Even Genest has applied this anecdote to Mrs. Woffington, but the only circumstance that lends confirmation to this view is the fact that Swiney (who is Mr. S----) left her his estate. Against this must be set the important points that Susannah Maria was not Mrs. Woffington's name, and that the joke depended for its neatness and applicability on the name Susannah. The narrator of the story, also, gives no hint that the damsel was the famous actress, as he certainly would have done; and, most important of all, it must be pointed out that at the period mentioned, that is, while Cibber was writing his "Apology," Mrs. Woffington had not appeared in London. The "Apology" was published in April, 1740, and had probably been completed in the preceding November; while Mrs. Woffington made her London _débût_ on 6th November, 1740.[214]
During the season 1741-2, "At the particular desire of several persons of Quality," Cibber made a few appearances at Covent Garden; the purpose being, in all probability, to oppose the extraordinary attraction of Garrick at Goodman's Fields. In 1743-4 he played at the same theatre as Garrick, being engaged at Drury Lane for a round of his famous characters; but there is no record that Garrick and he appeared in the same play. For the new actor Cibber had, naturally enough, no great admiration. He must have resented deeply the alteration in the method of acting tragedy which Garrick introduced, and is always reported as having lost no opportunity of expressing his low opinion of the new school.[215]
His last appearances on the stage were in direct rivalry with his young opponent. As has been related, Cibber's alteration of "King John," which had been "burked" in 1736-7, was produced, from patriotic motives, in 1745. As the principal purpose of the alteration was to make King John resent the insolence of the Pope's Nuncio in a much more emphatic manner than he does in Shakespeare, it may easily be imagined how wretched a production Cibber's play is. Genest's criticism is not too strong when he says (iv. 161): "In a word, Cibber has on this occasion shown himself utterly void of taste, judgment and modesty--well might Fielding call him Ground-Ivy, and say that no man was better calculated to alter Shakspeare for the worse ... in the Epilogue (which was spoken by Mrs. Clive) Cibber speaks of himself with modesty, but in the dedication, being emboldened by the favourable reception of his Tragedy, he has the insolence to say '_I have endeavoured to make it more like a play than I found it in Shakspeare._'" "Papal Tyranny" was produced at Covent Garden on 15th February, 1745,[216] and, in opposition to it, Shakespeare's play was put up at Drury Lane, with Garrick as King John, Macklin as Pandulph, and Mrs. Cibber (the great Mrs. Cibber, wife of Theophilus) as Constance. Cibber's play was, nevertheless, successful; the profit resulting to the author being, according to Victor, four hundred pounds, which he wisely laid out in a profitable annuity with Lord Mountford. In this play Cibber made his last appearance on the stage, on 26th February, 1745, on which day "Papal Tyranny" was played for the tenth time. "After which," says Victor ("History," ii. 49) "he retired to his easy Chair and his Chariot, to waste the Remains of Life with a chearful, contented Mind, without the least bodily Complaint, but that of a slow, unavoidable Decay."
His state of mind was probably the more "chearful and contented" because of his unquestionable success in his tilt with the formidable author of "The Dunciad;" a success none the less certain at the time, that the enduring fame of Pope has caused Cibber's triumph over him to be lost sight of now. The progress of the quarrel between these enemies has already been related up to the publication of Cibber's "Apology" (see vol. i. p. 36), and on pages 21, 35, and 36 of the first volume of this edition will be found Cibber's perfectly good-natured and proper remarks on Pope's attacks on him. Whether the very fact that Cibber did not show temper irritated his opponent, I do not know; but it probably did so, for in the fourth book of "The Dunciad," published in 1742, Pope had another fling at his opponent (line 17):--
"She mounts the throne: her head a cloud conceal'd,
In broad effulgence all below reveal'd;
('Tis thus aspiring Dulness ever shines:)
Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines."
And in line 532 he talks of "Cibberian forehead" as typical of unblushing impudence.
It is not surprising that this last attack exhausted Cibber's patience. He had hitherto received his punishment with good temper and good humour; but his powerful enemy had not therefore held his hand. He now determined to retaliate. Conscious of the diseased susceptibility of Pope to ridicule, he felt himself quite capable of replying, not with equal literary power, but with much superior practical effect. Accordingly in 1742 there appeared a pamphlet entitled "A Letter from Mr. Cibber, to Mr. Pope, inquiring into the motives that might induce him in his Satyrical Works, to be so frequently fond of Mr. Cibber's name." To it was prefixed the motto: "_Out of thy own Mouth will I judge thee._ Pref. to the _Dunciad_."
Cibber commences by stating that he had been persuaded to reply to Pope by his friends; who insisted that for him to treat his attacker any longer with silent disdain might be thought a confession of Dulness indeed. This is a highly probable statement; for an encounter between the vivacious Cibber and the thin-skinned Pope promised a wealth of amusement for those who looked on--a promise which was amply fulfilled. Cibber proceeds to assure Pope that, having entered the lists, he will not in future avoid the fray, but reply to every attack made on him.[217] He confesses his vast inferiority to Pope, but adds: "I own myself so contented a Dunce, that I would not have even your merited Fame in Poetry, if it were to be attended with half the fretful Solicitude you seem to have lain under to maintain it; of which the laborious Rout you make about it, in those Loads of Prose Rubbish, wherewith you have almost smother'd your _Dunciad_, is so sore a Proof." On page 17 of his "Letter" Cibber gives an interesting account of a quarrel between Pope and himself, to which he, with sufficient probability, attributes much of Pope's enmity. The passage is curious and important, so I quote it in full:--
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An Apology for the Life of Mr. Colley Cibber, Volume 2 (of 2)Chapter XVI (2)
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