AN EPISTLE FROM Mr. Theophilus Cibber, Comedian, TO Mr. Thomas Sheridan, Tragedian.

YOUR injudicious Diſappointment of the Company laſt Thurſday, who expected to ſee you in the Character of CATO, and your indiſcreet Attempt to diſmiſs the Audience, having, as you confeſs, become a Town-talk, and given Riſe to many idle Falſhoods, meerly [4] calculated to injure the Innocent: You muſt ex⯑cuſe me if I relate the Fact, ſtrictly adhering to Truth. There were many Witneſſes of what I am about to declare; and I know none, except yourſelf, whoſe Memory is weak enough to for⯑get it, or will be hardy enough to deny it

When it drew near the Time proper to begin the Play, Mr. Giffard and myſelf were alarm'd, in the Dreſſing-room with a Report, that you declared you would not play, becauſe you had not the ſame Robe you wore in that Character before; and that you ſaid, The Audience muſt be diſmiſs'd. This Reaſon for diſmiſſing an Audience, (propos'd by you who had no Right to diſmiſs them) appear'd to me ſo weak, I could not believe it, till you came into the Room, and ſwore, Unleſs you had that Robe, you would not act. This Declaration I looked upon as a raſh Expreſſion, the meer Effect of your then ruffled Temper; but could not yet ſuppoſe you would proceed ſo idly as you did: You were then compleatly dreſs'd from Head to Foot (as well as ever the Character was dreſs'd in any Theatre in Ireland or England) all but the Robe.

Upon Enquiry, it appeared, the Robes wore by Cato, Juba and Sempronius, the firſt Night, were borrowed by Philips, of ſome Gentle⯑woman [5] in this Town, who bought them in an Auction at London, ſome Time ſince, but were by no Means the Property of the Managers, or any one belonging to the Theatre, nor were to be got that Night: ſo all the Heroes were e⯑qually diſappointed of thoſe Trappings. Your Impatience increaſed, and, tho' another Robe was brought you (the ſame Robe that was made new, this Year, for Mr. Husband, in the Cha⯑racter of Julius Caeſar) you perſiſted in having the other uncomeatable Robe, or you poſitively would undreſs, and was determined not to play. To every body's Surprize, you did un⯑dreſs, and, in ſpight of the moſt friendly Re⯑monſtrances to the contrary, you made a broken kind of Speech to the Audience; with which they were ſo diſſatisfied, they could not help ſhewing it.

Before you went on, I entreated you (on the meer exchange of a Robe) not to do ſo unpolitic a Thing, I might add, unpolite, as to think of diſappointing the Town of their Diverſion: You reply'd, The Vexation had deprived you of your Voice, and rendered you incapable of per⯑forming: I deſired you ro conſider, the firſt Act was of ſuch a conſiderable Length, you might have Time enough to recover your Temper, and your Voice would probably return with it; or if the Defect laſted, your attempting to per⯑form [6] would appear ſo obliging, the Audience would readily make any Allowances, when they knew you had been ruffled, &c. but to think of giving them no Play at all, was what I could not but conceive would offend them.

To repeat all was ſaid to you on this Occa⯑ſion, would add to the Tediouſneſs of this Re⯑cital: But, as near as I can remember, nothing was omitted, in the moſt friendly Manner, to diſſuade you from your miſtaken Purpoſe.

I am informed you ſtay'd afterwards, juſt long enough to hear the extraordinary indulgent Reception the Audience were pleaſed to beſtow on my propoſing, with their Leave, to give them the Play, in the beſt Manner we could, ſince it was not in our Power to give it them ſo well as we would. You then ran haſtily out of the Houſe, and ſent a Meſſage afterwards to the Theatre, That you would not, by any Means, have your Name delivered out for another Play, for you would poſitively act no more.

I ſhould not, Mr. Sheridan, have given you or myſelf this Trouble, but for the many Re⯑ports that fly about, of which, 'tis ſaid, you are the Author: And ſince I have advanced ſo far, I muſt go a little farther, and make a [...]w honeſt Queries; then, giving you a little [7] Advice, ſhall ſubmit to the Determination of the Publick, whether I (as it has been inſinua⯑ted) ever intended you the leaſt Prejudice; or, on the contrary, have not always acted towards you with good Manners and good Nature?

Firſt then,—have I not your Letter by me, ſent to me when in England, wherein you expreſs yourſelf very deſirous of my acting in the ſame Theatre with you, and are ſolicitous for my coming over?—And do you not know, your particular Application ſince my Arrival, was one of my ſtrongeſt Motives for playing in Smock-Alley, where I am likely to have a Law-ſuit, for my Right, with the Managers, tho' I was offer'd the ſame Terms from Aungier-Street Play-houſe, where my Agreement would have been ſign'd by a Gentleman of Honour, whoſe Pay is as good as the Bank.

Have I not, on your Return to the Stage this Seaſon, in Compliment to you, play'd ſome in⯑ferior Characters, which, 'tis well known I had a long time reſign'd to younger Actors, in Eng⯑land?

Did I omit any Care, or grudge any Pains, to keep the Audience in Temper, when your ſudden Indiſpoſition prevented your playing, the firſt intended Night of King Lear? Or could [8] I, for a Brother, have been more Active, to ſilence the Reports then made to your Preju⯑dice? — ſed Tu Brute!

Have not I deſir'd you, tho' our remaining Nights of Playing were few, and we had large Sums at Stake, to fix the Plays to your own Mind?

Have not you been paid a large Part of that freſh Agreement you made, but did not com⯑pleat, while we are unpaid our Agreements, tho', we have, 'tis notorious, often ſolicited the Managers to releaſe us, if they found the emp⯑tineſs of the Town would not anſwer their continuing our Performance?—But we could get neither our Liberty nor our Money.

Have not you often been an Ear-witneſs of theſe Propoſals, and as often declar [...]d, we be⯑hav'd with the greateſt Lenity, and ſtricteſt Ho⯑nour?

Did not your ſudden breaking off from Play⯑ing leave us in a diſpleaſing Dilemma? And was it not reaſonable for us, to propoſe acting ſuch Pieces, as might excite the greateſt Curioſity in the Town, whereby the Managers might be enabled to pay us, and the reſt of the Company?

[9]Did I not decline ('till your poſitive Decla⯑ration, that you would play no more this Sea⯑ſon) appearing in any Character you had per⯑form'd? And did you not xpreſs yourſelf as oblig'd to me, on making you that Compliment, as you were pleas'd to term it?

How comes it then, Mr. Sheridan, reported, that Mr. Giffard, and my ſelf, have intended you any injury? Or from whence is it ſaid, that we (ridiculous! as falſe!) lock'd up your Cloaths, and did all we could to prevent your Playing? This, Sir, has been ſo frequently aſ⯑ſerted, as a Fact related by you, that you ought as a Friend to Truth, to have fully anſwer'd ſuch monſtrous Falſhoods; or, may we not rea⯑ſonably ſuppoſe, you did ſpread ſuch Reports? If you can be the Author of ſuch naughty Tales, what Language is fit to paint you?

The Letters I read this Day in the Dublin Journal, if not ipſo facto yours, are yet ſo worded, an impartial Reader cannot but ſee they were, at leaſt, the Work of ſome miſta⯑ken Friend, whoſe good Nature you had im⯑poſed on, by falſe Relations: From whom, but you, could come the ſatisfactory Reaſons, (not one of which are mentioned) for your not performing? Or the poor low Invectives, and mean Inuendoes therein contained?—Whom [10] do you mean, by Deſigning Wretches, and Theatrical Politicians? Or what can you in⯑tend but to inſinuate, you have been artfully drove from the Stage, when you know your Abſence from thence is abſolutely your own Act and Deed?

Fie! fie! ſtick to Truth, or be aſhamed of ſuch publick Addreſſes, or to ſhew your Face after them.

May not one ſuppoſe, Maſter Sheridan, the kind and civil Intention of theſe two Letters, is to create a Diſturbance in the future Audi⯑ences?

But let me inform you, when a Rebuff to an Actor appears premeditated and beſpoke from Prejudice, ſuch Treatment may put a poor Player out of Humour; but ſure, it ought not to put him out of Countenance.

If you withdraw yourſelf from the Theatre, for a Time, muſt all Diverſion ſtop till your Return? If a Vintner has not Ortelans, or any other extraordinary Dainties, in the Larder, will his Gueſts think it impertinent, if they are intreated to take ſuch homely Entertainment as the Houſe affords?— And if the Defects of o⯑thers, ſerve as a Foil to the Brilliancy of your [11] Performance, why ſhould you be angry, at what, if you'd keep your Temper, might prove ſo conſolable to you?

Dear Tommy, don't prove ſuch a Dog in a Manger; if you don't chuſe Oats, why ſhould you ſtarve the reſt of the Theatrical Cattle? Have more Compaſſion on your fellow Crea⯑tures, or fellow Comedians.

But, Maſter Tommy, may we not ſhrewdly ſuſpect, tho' your Performances have been hi⯑therto moſtly tragical, you have given your Mind a little Bent towards Comedy, and, in thoſe Studies, have taken a Hint from Congreve's Petulant? who, to keep up an extraordinary Reputation, was notorious, under a Diſguiſe, for calling for himſelf at a Coffee-houſe; where he would ſometimes, in a Mask, ſend in for himſelf, wait for himſelf, nay, and not finding himſelf, would frequently leave a Letter for himſelf:—'Faith, you are highly in Luck in improving a Hint, I find.

But let me ask you a home Queſtion— Has not a great deal of that ſuſs of Mind, you have lately ſhewn, been more owing to your Diſap⯑pointment, that the Audience would not depart, when you declar'd your high and mighty Diſ⯑pleaſure, becauſe you had not the ſelf-ſame [12] gew-gaw, tinſel Train, more than from any Fears you had of having diſpleas'd them? Or was it nangry, becauſe any one was permitted (under great Diſadvantages) meerly to attempt, what they had never in their Lives a Thought of per⯑forming? Why this is the paſſionate Extrava⯑ganza of our Brother PISTOL, who, ſcorning all Contradiction, or Competition, bounces about in his Boots, kicks his Heels with Fury againſt the Stage, and ſwell'd with ſwaggering Rage and Nonſenſe cries, ‘Shall Dunghill Curs confront with Helicon, &c.—Shall Pack-Horſes, and hollow pamper'd Jades of Aſia, that can⯑not travel thirty Miles a day, compare with Caeſar, and with Cannibals, and with Trojan Greeks, &c. &c.’ But, as our Friend con⯑cludes, ‘"Shall we fall foul for Toys?—’

Tho' I don't think there is any thing perſo⯑nally terrible about you, yet I own you a Gen⯑tleman of great Formidability, who have the Power if you ſay true (and you know you have talk'd at that paw-paw Rate) of calling down the Barracks, on any one you condeſcend to be diſpleas'd with: Pray, do you mean the Stone Buildings? for I can't ſuppoſe you preſume to have any Command over the Gentlemen there, as I never heard of any Commiſſion the King had yet honour'd you with; and I believe there is hardly any there will think it worth their [13] while, to attend the Call of your Whiſtle, to a ſilly Riot: I am rather inclinable to think, the worthy Spirits, there, are more impatient to at⯑tend the Call of a Trumpet, at this glorious Juncture, and be in Actions worthy of them— And for the Gentlemen of the College, Sir, no Inſinuation ſhall make me dread ill Uſage from thoſe, whoſe Birth and Education will never ſuf⯑fer 'em to hurt the Innocent, nor can I affront 'em with ſo ungenteel a Thought, that they will be the Tools of your wrong plac'd Reſentment.— Mr. Sheridan, your Behaviour has extorted this from me, and as your Conſcience muſt tell you, I never meant you the leaſt Injury, ſhould you by any little Art aim thro' Pique or Paſſion, unhoſpi⯑tably to hurt a Stranger, it would be an Act that wants a Name, and require ſuch Language to an⯑ſwer, as would but ill become the Mouth of a Gen⯑tleman, or be fitting for the Ears of the Publick.

As my Stay here will be very ſhort, I but de⯑ſire (what I will not doubt meeting with) a can⯑did Reception for the few Nights I have to play, from the good-natur'd Town, whoſe paſt Favours I am proud of; to confeſs them is but an Act of Gratitude: Nor will I therefore think my ſelf liable to the Imputation of a boaſting Vanity.—Let me, Mr. Sheridan, give you this friendly Caution,—Do not run into an Er⯑ror moſt young Men, in our Buſineſs, have been [14] too guilty of, who think their Merits are but barely paid, when their Reception is moſt fa⯑vourable; and take that as their Due, which is moſtly the Effect of a generous Diſpoſition, in the Town, to encourage, and ſupport, a riſing Genius whenever it appears.—Tho' People may be as fond of ſuch, for a while, as Gallants are of a new Miſtreſs, yet, if Vanity and Caprice prevail, in ſuch Performer, grown wild and wan⯑ton with Succeſs, they know when to withdraw their Favours, nor is it eaſy to regain them.— If I ever ſee you in England, I'll be moſt un⯑mercifully reveng'd of you, for your Miſtakes towards me; and will abſolutely endeavour, to make your Reception there, as pleaſing to you, as you may have wiſh'd, mine ſhould have been here diſpleaſing to me: But, let us now mind our Buſineſs, and no more trouble the Publick with our Theatrical-Important-Nothings.— They will but laugh at us for our Pains.