A LETTER, &c.

THERE are many undeni⯑able and irrefragable argu⯑ments to ſupport my nega⯑tive; but, as Vellum ſays, Out of ſe⯑veral, I ſhall only mention a few.

[10] I need not, in this caſe, beg a queſtion, which will readily be granted, and therefore I ſhall take it for granted, that all perſons, who go to the thea⯑tre, go there for Entertainment, in order to hear and ſee every thing and every body. If I read Mr. Palmer's name in the bill of the way of the world for Mirabel, I go with a con⯑viction that I ſhall ſee and hear him with entire ſatisfaction, and ſo of Mr. King, in the part of Atall, in the Dou⯑ble Gallant; now in neither of theſe plays, nor in many others does Mr. Garrick intrude upon my entertain⯑ment, nor obſtruct my ſatisfaction, becauſe he does not play in them: But when I go to ſee the Suſpicious Husband, there I ſee Mr. Garrick in the part of Ranger; and ſure no man will deny, but that he plays that part, [11] better than any other man in the world; But will any perſon be ſo hardy as to tell me, I ſhall part with my money, to ſee honeſt Ranger only; I want to ſee Frankly and Bellamy and ratling Jack Meggot; I would willingly ſee Mr. Strictland; the character, who gives title to the Comedy, yet am I herein debarred, by Mr. Garrick's inſtruſion, for when he appears on the ſtage, I am ſo blinded, either by prejudice or admiration, that I can ſee no body elſe; I can hear no body elſe; I can bear no body elſe; for inſtance, the other day, I wanted to hear Jacky Meggot invite Ranger and his friend in the Italian taſte, to his houſe, but I never heard a ſyllable of it.

When Ranger is with his two friends, Bellamy and Frankly, I hear him indeed [12] ſpeak of them, and I am as much ſur⯑pized to find him ſpeaking to them, but I can never ſet my eyes on them, while he is by: Before he came in, I could ſee and hear them, as diſ⯑tinctly, and as clearly, as viſibly and audibly as ever I ſaw or heard any thing in all my life, but when he comes in, whether it is, that he clouds my eyes, or fills my ſight, I cannot for my ſoul de⯑termine, but I ſee no more of Bellamy and Frankly. If they are there, I do not hear them, and though I uſe my glaſs I cannot ſee them, till he goes out again.

I hear him ſay (plain enough) Now it is, dear boy, and honeſt Ranger, and juſt now you would have cut my throat; but I never heard that they ſaid any ſuch words, but from his report, [13] I ſuſpected my own hearing, nor I would not believe my own eyes, till I aſked a gentleman who ſat by me, whether Frankly or Bellamy were on the Stage, and he ſaid that he could not ſee any ſuch perſons.—Then, ſaid I, who the devil is he ſpeaking to?—By my ſoul, replied the gen⯑tleman, I can't tell, for I ſee neither of them, nor do I believe either of them to be on the ſtage: if they are, it is more than I can ſay, and I am as uneaſy as you can be to ſee one man play the whole comedy by himſelf; it is really too hard upon him, and I can't find the reaſon why he keeps ſo many people in ſallary to ſo little pur⯑poſe, and almoſt for doing nothing.

[14] I came here the other night, when Mr. Garrick did not play, and I ſaw every body, and heard every thing to my entire ſatisfaction; but when this confounded Garrick comes on the ſtage, he confounds my eyes and ears in ſuch a manner, that I am de⯑prived of both organs, which are en⯑tirely engroſſed by his appearance and voice.

When my ſide's-man had done ſpeak⯑ing, I aſked a lady, who ſat by me, Who Mr. Garrick was ſpeaking to? She ſaid, She could not tell.—When he ſays, any letters, or meſſage? does he ſpeak to the ſcene? for by the lord, I ſee no ſervant! She ſaid, She thought her eyes pretty good, and that ſhe was as blind as myſelf in that reſpect—and indeed ſhe had the higheſt pair of [15] eyes that ever my eyes beheld; yet clear as her viſion was, ſhe could ſee no ſer⯑vant, nor any thing elſe, but this in⯑dividual, Garrick—He is not of ſo gigantic a ſtature, nor do I think he ever will exceed ſix feet in height; he is not ſo fat as Sir John Falſtaff, and how the devil, does this manager ma⯑nage to cover every body and every thing from our ſight.—He muſt deal in magic, thus to interpoſe between the ſpectators and every body elſe, in ſuch a black art manner, as render them invi⯑ſible.

He is the reverſe of a dark-lanthorn which hides the bearer, and throws light upon every body elſe; he is like the focus of a glaſs, which attracts all the rays of light; he is like a ſun-dial, which interprets time by light and ſhade—him⯑ſelf [16] all light, every body elſe all ſhade.

Now a repreſentation may be called a picture, but no good picture was ever all light, and all ſhade, but both ſhould be happily compounded and mixed to make a picture agreeable and ſtriking.

I, like a fool, the other night, went to ſee the Alchymiſt: I ſaw Burton and Palmer plain enough, till Abel Drugger came on, fiddling with his ſhop-keeper's apron. He no ſooner came on than away went Subtle, and captain Face: ſays I, to one near me, is not this mon⯑ſtrous, that Subtle and Face ſhould go off the ſtage, at the time when Nab wants them He anſwered, that he thought it unaccountable, and that he was ſerved ſo once before the laſt ſeaſon; and that if he had recollected himſelf in that par⯑ticular, [17] he would not have come to ſee Abel Drugger alone.

You know the plot, ſays he, is mixt, and has a variety of perſons in the drama, but the devil a one perſon here, but Abel Drugger.—You ſhall ſee him fight a parcel of Shadows, and beat them off preſently: He is excellent at Skiomachy. He did ſo, in a very ſhort time, beating the air, with as much dexterity, as if there had been a dozen people on the ſtage: Well, ſaid I, to the gentleman near me, I don't like this egotiſm, for as Young the ſatyriſt expreſſes it,‘and I's the little hero of each tale.’

Another cogent reaſon, I ſhall offer to the public, and you, ſir, why Mr. Gar⯑tick ſhould not appear on the ſtage is [18] that beſides blind-folding people, by his faſcination, he impoſes upon our hearing, rendering us deaf to every other perſon, but himſelf.—This is an intolerable mono⯑pily, thus to ſeize upon, and captivate our two ſenſes.

I have ſpoken to that of ſight already, and now I ſhall enter upon that of hearing.

We have had occular proofs ſufficient to convince all reaſonable people, that is, all people that will believe their eyes, that Mr. Garrick ſhould not appear upon the ſtage. Had he happened to be an actor in Paris, he would long ſince, have been put into the Baſtile, but as he lives under ſo mild a government as that of Great-Britain; the beſt we can do, is to put him under the puniſhment of pro⯑ſcription, [19] or in other words to baniſh him the ſtage, the ſcene of his delinquency, nor is it indeed reaſonable in the nature of things to permit him to reign any longer in ſo unlimited a tyranny, a ty⯑ranny for which ſome men, would long ſince have been brought to the ſcaf⯑fold.

I moſt wonder, why his own com⯑pany have not entered into a formal pro⯑ſecution againſt him, and brought their habeas corpus, for rendering them invi⯑ſible and inaudible: they permit their names to be printed, which is a kind of bond, or promiſſary note, payable to the public, that they will enact ſuch, and ſuch characters; now if Mr. Auſtin or Mr. Burton, or any of the players, engages thus in print to perform this or that part, and does not appear, when [20] Garrick comes on, have not I my writ of inſolvency againſt him; what can they plead why I ſhould not oblige them to appear, when Mr. Garrick comes on.—Why do they go off that inſtant.—There's no body in the galleries, find any fault with them; they, and every other actor or actreſs in Drury-lane, have their peculiar merits in their own particu⯑lar caſt. Each has his proper walk, and ſhines in his own department; and the next time I ſee them diſappear on Gar⯑rick's entering, I ſhall ſay with the witches in Macbeth, appear, appear. So I give them this fair warning.

When Mr. Garrick ſays in Hamlet—I am too much in the Sun; he ſpeaks an evident truth, and if I may be allowed the Expreſſion, a palpable one. It is downright demonſtration.—He is [21] too much in the ſun; what he ſays needs no illuſtration, for he is ſo much in the ſun, that he takes all the light to him⯑ſelf, and like a ray of glory, or an infula of beams, eclipſes all others.

The moon herſelf, and moſt of the ſtars, who borrow their light from the ſun, have not ſo much reaſon to com⯑plain: If they have not light of their own, they ſhine in borrowed robes, but they would take it very ill of Dan Phoe⯑bus, that wandering knight ſo fair, if he ſhould, like Garrick, get up of a froſty night, put on his damaſk night-gown, and then put them all out.—It would be as cruel in the ſun to do ſo, as it is in Othello, when he puts out the light, and then puts out the light. And I think, with deference to the judgment of the public, that it is as inſuffera⯑ble in Mr. Garrick to extinguiſh all [22] other lights but his own: and I hope they will take proper cognizance, and jointly agree to put him out by the con⯑curring votes of oſtraciſm.

I will only aſk the company of Drury⯑lane-houſe, has the manager, (as Pytha⯑goras did of old to his diſciples) enjoin them ſilence for any term of years. If he has done this in his wiſdom, 'tis but reaſonable, he ſhould ſet them an exam⯑ple.—He ſhould, like a good father, enforce by his precedent, what he preaches in doctrine, and not like an incendiary, ſet us all by the ears; and like the ſentence of perjury, impoſe the pillory upon his audience. I muſt own, that I am ſo great a lover of muſic, that I could ſit a whole hour to hear a good ſolo performed by a good hand, but by the blood of the Mirables, I do not ſee why Mr. Garrick ſhould every night for [23] theſe many ſeaſons, play nothing but ſolos. This is rehearſal upon rehearſal, and repeti⯑tion upon the back of repetition. Are we never to have a concert, becauſe truly Mr. Garrick loves nothing but ſolos. I think Mr. Holland and Mr. Howard, and Mr. Bransby, and indeed every Mr. and Mrs. in the houſe have a juſt title to per⯑form their particular parts in the theatri⯑cal concert.

They are paid for doing ſo; we the public pay them, and we inſiſt on their playing for the future, or we will pay them, and repay them.—Had we found fault with their perform⯑ance at any one time, had we con⯑demned their theatrical merit, whether natural or acquired, if we had refuſed to give them, what is their undoubted right, our juſt applauſe, they might offer [24] ſome plea, for not diſcharging their duty, but as matters ſtand, we think this time as ſeaſonable as well as unſeaſonable; ſilence is inſenſible, and we hope to ſee a reformation in due time, which yet we think cannot well be made, except Mr. Garrick begins it by a ſolemn de⯑parture from the ſtage, ſince we may ap⯑ply Horace's ſaying to him,

We ſhall now ſtate ſome matters of fact, in order to ſupport our argu⯑ments.

One matter of fact is, that when he played Hamlet, no body elſe appeared, when he was on. Our attention was ſo much engroſſed by Hamlet, that [25] we took no notice of any other per⯑ſon; I neither ſaw Bernardo nor Mar⯑cellus, nor heard one ſyllable of either Roſenerans or Guilderſtern, while Ham⯑let was on.—When Hamlet ſays, ‘—The play's the thing.’ With which I'll catch the conſcience of the thing we expected; there would have been a play, but if there was any ſuch thing, I did not ſee it or hear it; it might have been play'd for any thing I know, but certain it is, it eſ⯑caped me. Poſſibly, I was gazing too attentively on Hamlet ſitting at the feet of Ophelia, and looking at ſomething through her fan.—I knew that the object of his intuition was to have been the King, but the devil a king was there, or if there was it, was a king of Ham⯑let's [26] own making; like that, when he ſays, ‘A King of ſhreds and patches.’As in like manner, in the Alchymiſt, is it fitting, that Abel Dugger, ſhould play the whole play himſelf, and let no one elſe be ſeen or heard, while he's on? If monopoly in trade be an injury to the public, then it muſt be confeſſed, with reſpect to our entertainments, a theatrical monopoly, is an unfair mono⯑poly, an embargo on our taſte, a kind of an inquiſition, a very ſtar-chamber on our underſtanding; and if trade in ge⯑neral ſuffers by ſuch monopolies, ſo is taſte in general utterly depraved by ſuch unjuſt engroſſment.

[27] Why ſhould not the witches be ſeen or heard, when Macbeth comes in, when he ſays,

Inſtead of anſwering him, a deed, &c. as they ſhould do, they inſtantly diſappear, they vaniſh, and are no more ſeen; he bewitches the very witches, rendering them, and all their diabolical proceed⯑ings inviſible.—The cauldron is no more, he extinguiſhes their infernal flames, and plays hell with hell itſelf, ſending the very devil, as the ſentence does the condemned criminal, to the place from whence he came.—And is this ſufferable? Will any man be ſo hardy as to ſay, this is to be borne,—it is not to be borne,— [28] I think the witches have as great a right to anſwer, as Macbeth to aſk a queſtion; at leaſt, I think it is ſo in your houſe, ſir; and what is ſauce for the gooſe, ſhould be ſauſe for the gander, as the ſaying is; now at your houſe, there are no ſuch proceedings, no ſuch indecorum. He does not ſwallow up the witches, and devour them at a mouthful. He does not like the famous fire-eater, feed upon brimſtone and other combuſtibles, which reminds me of a ſtory I have ſomewhere read, applicable to Mr. Gar⯑rick's thus eating up the devil without a grain of ſalt: I ſay, applicable to him for one very good reaſon, and that is, if I do not inſert it here, I ſhall forget to inſert it any where elſe.

[29] A certain nobleman to divert himſelf, carried a young Blackamoor juſt imported to one of the Papiſh chapels in the city, and when the prieſt was eating the wafer, the blackamoor asked his maſter, What that man was eating? Who an⯑ſwered, that he was eating his God.—I wiſh we had him in our country, ſays the blackamoor, for he would eat the devil purely.

This ſtory needs no comment, and therefore we ſhall make none; we hope therefore from what we have advanced that theſe irrefragable arguments will have ſome weight with Mr. Garrick, and you are at liberty to ſhew this let⯑ter to him: if he is able to anſwer all, or any one of them, to our ſatisfaction, we ſhall ſubſcribe a ſubmiſſive acknow⯑ledgment [30] of our fault in the daily ad⯑vertiſer, with the hopes of forgiveneſs and promiſe that we ſhall never be again guilty in this particular, if not, we ſhall ſay as the King in the Mourning bride expreſſes it, ‘Take away his face’For we muſt acknowledge that it daz⯑zles our ſight, in ſuch a manner, that we can ſee nothing elſe. Nor indeed is any thing herein written, ſir, in the leaſt to inſinuate any thing to the prejudice of your houſe, which we honour and re⯑ſpect as we ſhould do, and we ſhould want taſte did we ſay any other. Your performers have merit enough to extort praiſe from the beſt judges or the niceſt criticks, and perhaps one of the beſt [31] low comedians in the world is in Covent-Garden.

Neither is any thing herein written intended to depreciate or run down the Actors of Drury-lane, but the reverſe is the intention of this letter; for if we were hardy enough to ſay, that all and every of them has not theatrical merit in an eminent degree, it were to give our own judgments the lie, and the falſe⯑hood, like duſt thrown in the wind, would fly in our faces—it were a ſhal⯑low artifice, becauſe we run down this moſt unreaſonable man, thereby to traduce or leſſen that good eſteem, which they have learned by their good quallities, or becauſe they are not ſeen, or heard when Mr. Garrick appears, that therefore they are not fit to be ſeen, or that they ſhould not be.

[32] The reverſe of all this is meant and intended by the whole tenour, of which however tortured to confeſs, will never be made to confeſs what it never intended; I ſay, it is fitting they ſhould be ſeen or heard, and that in order thereto, we have given this our ſafe advice to David Garrick Eſq manager of Drury-Lane play-houſe, that he will appear no more on the ſtage, which advice we ſhould not have given in ſo peremptory a manner if he did not eclipſe thoſe who play with him. Our advice is candid, free, and diſintereſted, ſince it will be allowed, that as there cannot be two ſuns, neither can there be two Garricks, ſince he like his own Richard, has no brother, is like no brother. ‘[33]He is himſelf alone.’

If then no ſimilarity appears, no cor⯑reſponding features are ſeen, upon a compariſon, that ſuperiority of light which, we allow him, (and which if we did not allow him, the world would do it for us) has raiſed him to an emi⯑nence above all in the theatrical walk; and, as a witty orange-woman ſaid to a gentleman, who asked, Where was his Fellow (meaning his ſervant) By G [...], ſir, not in Chriſtendom; ſo we may ſay of Garrick—not in the uni⯑verſe; and for this one material, migh⯑ty, and ſubſtantial reaſon, we exclude him from the ſtage, that other people may have their turn to ſhine; for if we did with him, as Juliet ſays of Romeo, [34] Take him, and cut him out in little ſtars, and he will make the face of heaven ſo fine, that all the world would be in love with night, and pay no wor⯑ſhip to the garniſh ſun.

Mr. Garrick would poſſibly glitter every atom and particle of him; and like a looking - glaſs, broke into ten thouſand ſhatters, each brittle ſhatter would glitter, and ſparkle ſtill.

So that if the other actors, eminent as they are, each in his own walk, will condeſcend to allow this ſuperi⯑ority in Mr. Garrick, we think they will join with us in expelling him the houſe, as an unruly member, who takes up ſo much box, that he elbows off every body elſe; one whoſe voice is [35] ſo loud, that like that of Sentor the herald, it draws ten thouſand voices, whoſe tongues ſo voluble, that he will not even allow the very women to in⯑dulge their favourite faculty of talk⯑ing. And ſure, when one man can im⯑poſe ſilence upon ſo many women, a taſk above the power of all the husbands in England, or in the world, to perform, what muſt we think of ſuch a ſway? ſuch a diſpotic ſovereign, arbitrary rule, ſhould not be veſted in any ſubject; and it is more than the Grand Mo⯑narque, Lewis himſelf would dare to do in France, where his motto is, Sic volo, ſic Jubeo, nay, his favourites Pompadour would not obey ſo unrea⯑ſonable a command; and if he had the confidence to proclaim ſilence in a printed edict, or declaration of his will, [36] he would in all human, all moral pro⯑bability, raiſe an army of female inſur⯑gents, to rebel againſt his throne, and like Sampſon, pull an old houſe over his ears; we are delighted with the ſweetneſs of the female voice, as they are the moſt harmonious; and ſhall Mrs. Cibber, Mrs. Pritchard, Mrs. Clive, Miſs Macklin, and the other ac⯑treſſes, give up a privilege they have a right to enjoy, a perogative they have maintained ſince the days of old mother Eve, who, no doubt, enjoyed it in its full extent; nor ſhall we join with Mr. Garrick, or any other man, or ſet of man in the kingdom, to impoſe this unreaſonable injunction on women, who have given us ſuch uncommon plea⯑ſure, either in the tender or the ele⯑vated tones of their voices.

[37] It would be an act more cruel than caſtration to men, by which the Ita⯑lians equip their children for the opera, and I will ſpeak for any of the above actreſſes, and promiſe this in their name, that they would think ſuch dilapidation for procuring men, a voice would be leſs cruel, than to take the voice of women by any means; nay, I will vouch for them all, that they would rather be martyrs, and ſuffer themſelves to be ſtoned to death, as the Italians are ſtoned for life, than to ſuffer the for⯑feiture of ſo rich a treaſure, or to cede, by what treaty ſoever, upon any terms or conditions, clauſe or clauſes, that high and mighty female right, the uſe of their tongues; and therefore we ſtill continue to affirm, as we have ſuffici⯑ently proved our aſſertion, by many ſo⯑lid [38] reaſons, that this unreaſonable man, David Garrick, Eſq ſhould Not ap⯑pear on the ſtage; and we hope you will ſhew him this letter; nay, we re⯑queſt it of you, and his abdicating the throne of his anceſtors, and reſign⯑ing his theatrical authority (we don't mean management) will for ever oblige,