CHAP. I.

AMONG all the Foibles incident to hu⯑man Nature, none take a ſtronger Poſ⯑ſeſſion of the Soul of Man than Ambi⯑tion. 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 [2] of my own Life: Some witty ſmart Gentlemen may call it Vanity: With all my Heart; and to deal ingenu⯑ouſly 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 Fa⯑mily?—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 At⯑tempt 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 Conſidera⯑tion than a Guinea ^* 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 Apolo⯑gy 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 them⯑ſelves.

[3] 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 re⯑gular 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 Di⯑geſtion ^*: 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 re⯑volving 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 Cir⯑cumſtance 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 Delecta⯑tion. 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 be⯑fore me muſt ſtand for mine, which is what my Brother Bayes makes Prince Prettyman ſay in the Rehearſal, [4] viz. I only do it for fear I ſhould be thought Nobody's Son at all.—Though I cannot think I uſe this Theatri⯑cal 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 follow⯑ing 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 Reſto⯑ration of King Charles the Second, to follow his Pro⯑feſſion 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 Rutland⯑ſhire, publiſh'd 1684, the Colleys are recorded as She⯑riffs 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 Grand⯑father 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;

[5] Which I thus venture to tranſlate,

Every one who has read Horace knows,

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,

I ſhall follow his Manner.

About the Year 1716, or 1717, I was ſent by my Fa⯑ther to Wincheſter School, in order to be elected into Wincheſter College; for it ſeems, by my Father's Mo⯑ther's Side, I was deſcended from William of Wickham the Founder.—In what Branch, I am ingenuous e⯑nough to ſay I know not, yet from my Soul I con⯑temn 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, [6] he went from the loweſt Form to the higheſt, and I did not proceed above half the Way: Yet this Analogy ap⯑pears between us.—He ſays, ^* ‘"Even there I re⯑member 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, ^† 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 re⯑member 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 In⯑fant; 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 Trim⯑mings, 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, be⯑cauſe 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 [7] 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, ‘"^* 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 Weak⯑neſs 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 ſcar⯑let 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, ſup⯑poſe 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 Suppoſi⯑tion 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 o⯑ther 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 De⯑ſires [8] 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 Per⯑fection. ‘"^* 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 recom⯑mended 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 al⯑lude 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,

But as to my Philoſophy; for this is making a Di⯑greſſion in a Digreſſion.—I remember a merry, laugh⯑ing, wit [...]y, compl [...]iſant Fellow, who was always the moſt obſequious humble Servant of ſome Man of For⯑tune or other, compar'd himſelf once to a Philoſopher, and the [...]under of a new Sect: It was honeſt Gnatho [9] 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, in⯑ſanire 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.

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 al⯑ways took in the End of an old Song:

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 inſa⯑nire in the very Stile; incomprehenſibly ſublime.—O dainty Simile! A Tree, when it is green, and vege⯑tates, and flouriſhes, cannot be ſaid, in our Philoſophy, to live.—Reader take heed! for I have a ſtrong Im⯑pulſe to talk impertinently, and ſhew myſelf in all my [10] 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 Devaſ⯑tation of Ambition in his Thoughts, till my Imagina⯑tion 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,

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 Phi⯑loſophy, 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.

AS 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 School⯑boy 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 ^* 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 Per⯑formance above his Capacity, and was laugh'd at, and jeer'd, and ha [...]ed as a pragmatical Baſtard: For this Rea⯑ſon 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 [12] 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 can⯑not 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 with⯑out 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 intro⯑duced myſelf into the Company of theſe Knight-Er⯑rants 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 Occa⯑ſion that they deſir'd me being a better Scholard, (Prize⯑fighters Language) to pen their Challenges, which they inſtructed me to indite. . . . . . Here I gave the firſt De⯑monſtration of my Parts; for having been us'd at Lon⯑don 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 a⯑larm'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 [13] 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 Infe⯑rence 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 ad⯑mitted to their Rehearſals: One Morning I caſually took up a Paper, which was a written Bill of the Per⯑formance they were to exhibit in the Evening. I im⯑mediately found there was ſomething deficient, or at leaſt ſomething that might be alter'd to raiſe the Ex⯑pectation 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 un⯑common 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 Begin⯑nings, 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 [14] 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; Per⯑ſons who cannot bear to ſee any ſhining Parts in another, without endeavouring, by a Cloud of intervening Dark⯑neſs, 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 dig⯑nify and diſtinguiſh me, will be a ſure Bait ad cap⯑tandum 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 [15] 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,

—Well they may ſay what they will of the Cibbers, but it muſt be a Proof they have ſomething very ſingu⯑larly 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 ^* 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 Proceed⯑ing 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 ^†, is the Motto to mine; nor can I add any Thought of my own to ſo juſt and im⯑partial 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 Fa⯑ther's own Son, is too true to make a Jeſt of.—He [16] quotes a Line on ſuch an Occaſion, ^* Cinna (or Cibber) Vide [...] Pauper vult, & eſt Pauper.

I ſhall give the Latin Line a different Turn.

Yet after all, what can all the Squirts and Popguns of Jeſt and Raillery avail againſt the ſeven-fold Shield of Confidence and Contempt?

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 ^†; ‘"But perhaps you may want Bread: If that be the Caſe, even go to Dinner in God's Name; whatever you in⯑tend 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 in⯑to a Differtation on himſelf, he is a good while before he can get to the End of the Chapter; the pleaſant Sub⯑ject 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 Ap⯑petite.

In that Year when the Stage fell into great Commo⯑tions, and the Drury Lane Company aſſerting the glo⯑rious Cauſe of Liberty and Property, made a Stand a⯑gainſt the Oppreſſions in the Patentees. In that memo⯑rable Year when the Theatric Dominions fell in labour [17] of a Revolution, under the Conduct of myſelf, that Re⯑volt gave occaſion to ſeveral Pieces of Wit and ſatirical Flirts at the Conductor of the Enterprize. I was at⯑tack'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 de⯑ſigning, 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 Fi⯑gure. This I laugh'd at, knowing it only a proper Em⯑belliſhment 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 ri⯑dicule 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,

[18] 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 he⯑reditary 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 Hu⯑mour 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:

I am always proud to ſhow in what Steps I trod: Read the next quoted Paragraph.

Theſe were the Verſes.

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 conſe⯑quently from what Fountain I have deriv'd mine. I cannot loſe this Opportunity of mentioning another Ana⯑logy between us: As in our Tempers there is a pecu⯑liar Similitude, ſo there is in our Faculties in Writing. ^* 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 ^†; for wherever the Verb OUT DO could be brought in, the pleaſant Accuſative OUT DO⯑ING was ſure to follow it; and, Deries repitita place⯑ret, 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 [22] 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 [...]nt⯑ley gone on in this Principle, in all his moſt erudite Caſ⯑tigations?—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 Serio⯑ſity.—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 ^* Work wi [...] go without Crutches; or would I ^† 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 [23] 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.

CHAP. III.

AFTER 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.—

[24] "^* I am now come to that Criſis of my Life when For⯑tune 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 alto⯑gether 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 ob⯑ſerve 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 Charac⯑ters 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 Fa⯑ther [25] was in Arms under the Duke of Devonſhire, but I jump'd into his Saddle, and he return'd to Chatſ⯑worth, 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 Correſpon⯑dents, 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 na⯑turally digreſs on Prime Miniſters, and the Changes they are wiſh'd to meet with. ^* ‘"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 undubi⯑table 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 Af⯑fairs of this Nation. Notwithſtanding this Proof of Ca⯑pacity, he and his Meaſures have been talk'd of much in the ſame Manner as Mr. C. Cibber politically remarks [26] People did of King James and his Conduct. ‘"^* 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 a⯑bove 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, ho⯑neſt Head above Water. And it is a ſolid Comfort, how inſignificant ſoever I may ſeem, that I have made One a⯑mong many others, who have wrote Papers and Pamph⯑lets, to prove the happy Effects of this preſent Adminiſtra⯑tion.—Thus may I be ſaid to have become, in Reality, an Underpropper of the State, which my Father, not get⯑ting a Place in the ^† 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 [27] Reſolution, being a forward Youth, I wanted to know ſomething of the World, which Knowledge I ſoon at⯑tain'd, and began to run into the hey-day Gallantries of a Man of Mode: In ſhort, I thought myſelf a very pret⯑ty 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 Cour⯑tier: So good a Taſte my firſt hopeful Entrance into Manhood ſet out with.—^* My Father had the ſame Kind of Heart, which was ready to be ſhone into Warmth, and he handſomly ^† apologizes, that as he was waiting at Table on the preſent Dutcheſs Dowager of Marl⯑borough, in the Year of the Revolution, theſe two Words, ^‖ 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,—

Which he ſince tranſlates thus;

But which I tranſlate, for I can tranſlate as well as he, thus:

Or thus:

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 Com⯑panions, with the News of Captain.—And it is with ſome Pleaſure I hear myſelf call'd the young Cap⯑tain 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 The⯑atre 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 Ear⯑piercing Fife, all Pride, Pomp, Circumſtance of glori⯑ous War have long'd been lo [...]t in Peace, which long Fare⯑wel 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, ^* 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 Igno⯑miny [29] 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 ^*) a Lady with a real Title, whoſe female Indiſcretions had occaſion'd her Family to abandon her, being wil⯑ling 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 Ene⯑mies, 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 ad⯑ditional 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 commit⯑ted 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 con⯑tending 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 Peo⯑ple of Senſe from coming on the Stage; they fear entering into a Society, whoſe Inſtitution if not a⯑buſed, is an excellent School of Morality: But alas! as Shakſpear ſays:’

[30] 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 In⯑ſults, 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 ſubſe⯑quent 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.

AS I have profeſs'd myſelf an humble Imitator of Mr. C. Cibber's peculiar Manner of hiſtori⯑cal 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 Occur⯑rences 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 Know⯑ledge 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 [32] 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 Ab⯑ſtract 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, ac⯑cording to the Relation of that Theatric Annaliſt, John Downes, the old Prompter. The Company under Sir Wil⯑liam 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 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 [33] 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'ave⯑nant, Downes gives this particular Account of its firſt Riſe and going to Dorſet-Garden.

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,

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 al⯑low'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, [34] 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 lan⯑guid 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; ‘"^* 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 Cri⯑ticks 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 Va⯑riety 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 proſ⯑perous 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 [35] Maſter of the Duke's Company, though in a Page be⯑fore 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,

‘"^* 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 Rival⯑ſhip 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, ‘"^† 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 Sa⯑lary 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, pro⯑cured [36] 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:

• 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.

• 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 excel⯑lent, 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 [37] 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.

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,

Mr. Hart.

Brabantio,

Mr. Cartwright.

Caſſio,

Mr. Burt.

Iago,

Major Mohun.

Roderigo,

Mr. Shatterell.

Deſdemona,

Mrs. Hughes.

Emilia,

Mrs. Rutter.

The Earl of Eſſex,

Mr. Clark.

The E. of Southampton,

Mr. Griffin,

[38] Lord Burleig [...].

Major Mo [...]un.

Queen Elizabeth.

Mrs. Gwin.

I come now to ſpeak of, in the ſame tranſitory Man⯑ner Sir William D'avenant's Company, and of the Per⯑ſons who compos'd it. Mr. Rhodes, as I mention'd be⯑fore, form'd a Company, of which the following Names is a compleat Liſt.

• Mr. Betterton,
• Sheppy,
• Lov [...]il,
• [...]illiſon,
• Underhill,
• Turner,
• Dix [...]n,
• Robert No [...]es,

• 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 re⯑gular 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 hav⯑ing loſt ſeveral of the Actors by Death, and ſome by Love, it was recruited in the Year 1673, by Mr. An⯑thony 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 Wo⯑men [39] 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 Ac⯑count, will make a perfect Compendium of Stage Hiſ⯑tory.—Thus he writes—

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 [42] reading, writing, acting Qualifications may be con⯑join'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 in⯑deed may think, that by theſe Memoirs we may blaze to Peſterity in a ludicrou [...] Luſtre, and that our Obſerva⯑tions and Digreſſions ſignify, roundly, N [...]thing; yet to the Drum of the Ear will I as roundly rattle,

—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 Im⯑preſſions 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.

But really Betterton, beſides his Excellencies of Na⯑ture 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 re⯑membered who were Originals of Shakeſpear.—What Aid ſuch Remembrance might be, take from the follow⯑ing Anecdotes.

"^* 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 deli⯑vers himſelf concerning the Play of Henry the Eighth.

"The Part of the King was all new cloath'd in a pro⯑per Habit, and ſo right and juſtly done by Mr. Better⯑ton, he being inſtructed in it by Sir William D'ave⯑nant, 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 Memoi⯑riſts, a Simplicity of Stile in plain Narration too often occurs; but he will pardon this bold Diſregard for gram⯑matical 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 [44] 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 Ori⯑gin [...]l, may be thought ſo far to excel, that few Actors, while he is remember'd, ſhall, with any equal, ju⯑dicious 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

Is not merely confin'd to old Men; by natural Preju⯑dice 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.

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 ‘^* [...]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,’

CHAP. V.

IT was before obſerv'd, Women were not admitted on the Stage till after the Reſto⯑ration, yet, by the Liſts I have given, you will find they were not ſo very eaſily ſup⯑ply'd; for in the Company where Better⯑ton 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 Wil⯑liam D'avenant brought them to that Company: On the contrary, the Old, or the King's Company under Kille⯑grew, 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 un⯑limited Excellence to particular Perſons! . . . But of theſe Male Women, Kynaſton was eſteem'd, being very young and handſome; and, according to Downes's Phraſe ^*, 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. . . ^† King Charles coming to a Tragedy ſooner than uſual, and was impatient to have the Per⯑formance [46] 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 effemi⯑nated.—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 Cen⯑ſure, 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 Trun⯑cheon, he ſtill remained famous: He had, it ſeems, a for⯑mal Gravity in his Mein, which in ſome Characters be⯑came 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 Sebaſ⯑tian, 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,

He conveyed more Menace than the loudeſt Intempe⯑rance 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.

^* Mountſord was a younger Man, tall, well-made, of agreeable Aſpect, fair, his Voice clear, full, and melo⯑dious: In Tragedy a moſt affecting Lover; his Words had that Softneſs, that

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 ob⯑ſerved 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 Per⯑formance, 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.

^* Sandſord was what Mr. Cibber, ſen. calls the Spagno⯑let 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 Com⯑petitor for it. This perſonating of bad Characters re⯑quir'd as much Art and Judgment, as to have ſhone into the Applauſe of the Spectators by all the Throws and Swel⯑lings of Ambition, yet it was attended with this Dilem⯑ma, that an Audience never expected to ſee him in any [48] 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 diffem⯑bling 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.

From Sandford's being ſo ſucceſsful a Stage Villian, the inferior Actors thought his Succeſs owing to the De⯑fects of his Perſon, and from thence, when they appear'd as Bravo's, and Murderers, made themſelves as fright⯑ful 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 Pe⯑rukes: Mr. C. Cibber thinks his ſwarthy Majeſty alluded [49] 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 pre⯑ſent 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 ho⯑neſt Man.—But tho' political miniſterial Inuendoes may be very juſtly prov'd to mean ſomething, yet thea⯑trical Inuendoes are a mere Inanity of Thought.—But to digreſs from this Digreſſion,—and to enter into a⯑nother.—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, ^* Mr. Cibber, ſen. ſays, who was a Damoſelle de Plaſir on the Stage, acted a Part of impregnable Chaſtity, and bid the Ladies

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 thea⯑tric 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

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 Shake⯑ſpear's Time, I am confident his Judgment muſt have choſe him to have play'd Richard ill, for without conſi⯑dering [50] 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 Mo⯑tion 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:

To deſcribe the low Comedians, Mr. Cibber makes a peculiar Apology, yet thus, after it is over, he goes on:

^* 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 unac⯑countably 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 pro⯑vok'd, and Nature could not reſiſt:—His Perſon was of the middle Size; his Voice clear; his natural Coun⯑tenance grave and ſober; when he ſpoke, that ſeriouſ⯑neſs of Joakery was diſcharg'd, and a dry drolling Levity took ſuch full Poſſeſſion of him, that I can only [51] 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 Come⯑dian, in a Parody of what Shakeſpear's Mark Antony ſays of Brutus as a Heroe,

Leigh was of the mercurial Kind, not a ſtrict Imi⯑tator 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 re⯑quired 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 ridicu⯑lous:—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 [52] 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 exa⯑mine: 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 Pro⯑vince, 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 Rea⯑ſon I have before given: After ſaying Powell, Ver⯑bruggen, 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 Wo⯑man he had ſeen on the Stage; which Mr. Cibber corro⯑borates 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 [53] of their Art, by the Prevalence of their Underſtand⯑ing."

Mrs. Barry, in Characters of Greatneſs, had a Pre⯑ſence of elevated Dignity; her Mein and Motion, ſu⯑perb, 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 poſ⯑ſeſſed 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 Senti⯑ment with enchanting Harmony. She was the firſt Perſon whoſe merit was diſtinguiſhed by the Indul⯑gence of having an annual Benefit Play, which was granted to her in King James the 2d's Time, and be⯑came 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:

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 ren⯑dered 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 [54] 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 ſpeak⯑ing 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 Condi⯑tions.

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 dif⯑ferent. 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, [55] call'd the Weſtern Laſs, which Part ſhe acted, ſhe tranſ⯑formed her whole Being, Body, Shape, Voice, Lan⯑guage, Look, and Features into almoſt another Animal, with a ſtrong Devonſhire Dialect, a broad laughing Voice, a poking Head, round Shoulders, an unconceiv⯑ing 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 re⯑covered, 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 ^* 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 dor⯑mant, 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 de⯑ſcribing 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 Drama⯑tick 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 [56] 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 ha⯑zardous 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 Fa⯑vour, 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 con⯑tain'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 here⯑after give them a good one: But the Vivacity of our modern Criticks is of late grown ſo riotous, an un⯑ſucceſsful Author has no more Mercy ſhewn him than [57] 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 Mer⯑chant 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 game⯑ſome 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.

HAVING 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 de⯑ſcanting an Author as that great Man, yet my compen⯑dious 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 con⯑tented to be the Juſtinus.

I am now entering into that Part of the Hiſtory, where the Theatre fell frequently in Labour of Revo⯑lutions. 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, [58] 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 Mea⯑ſures of Courſe created Murmurings on one Side, and ill Humo [...]r and Contempt on the other. When it be⯑came neceſſary to leſſen the Charge, Reſolution was taken to begin with the Players Salaries. Nokes, Mont⯑ford 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, na⯑turally 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 John⯑ſon 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, [59] the Day his Muſe brought forth her firſt Fruit that was ever made publick; how good or how bad im⯑ports 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, accord⯑ing 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 be⯑gan to conſult private Intereſt more than the general Good; and though ſome Deſerence was paid to Betterton, ſeveral wanted to govern in their Turns:—^* 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 Com⯑pany 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 Con⯑veniency.

Such was the Fortune of both Companies, when our ^‖ 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 be⯑came the moſt diſgraceful Nuſance that ever depreciated a Theatre.

[60] 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 Re⯑turn, 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.

"^* 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 new⯑fangled 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 Au⯑thors 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 [61] 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 Conſe⯑quence 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. Whe⯑ther 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 appa⯑rent 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 ſigni⯑fy'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 [62] 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 Que⯑ſtion, 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 cer⯑tain Actor's Fortune to meet: The Affair was of a pri⯑vate Nature, and therefore was thought a publick Audi⯑ence 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.—Huſ⯑band!—O fatal Name! This Lady was young, beauti⯑ful, 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 inexpreſ⯑ſible 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 Huſ⯑band 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 ſud⯑denly and raſhly into Vice!—But alas!

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 Wo⯑man [63] 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 report⯑ed 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 Ini⯑quity ſuggeſt, and Uncharitableneſs believe?—Although

Yet this vile Notion too far prevail'd, as you will im⯑mediately 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 Lively⯑hood at the Theatre. The Night came on he was to ap⯑pear; and tho' it had been bruited about the Town, that becauſe he was a willing Cuckold, there was a very vir⯑tuous 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 De⯑vil found himſelf miſtaken. The Houſe was very early crowded, and the harmonious diſcordant Concert of Catcals, Whiſtle, &c. &c. began to play before the Cur⯑tain drew up.—Well,—though the Actors were all frighten'd, the Play began with Calmneſs and Ap⯑plauſe; 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, De⯑ſpair 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 [64] confident Heart he ſurmounted what many of leſs Reſo⯑lution would have ſunk under.

For ſome time after, every Joke in a Part he him⯑ſelf 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 ^* 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 Sa⯑tisfaction, by making a publick Recantation: All At⯑tempts 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 Satiſ⯑faction 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 aſ⯑ſume 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 ^† ‘"There are other Inſtances, ſays the apologetical Hi⯑ſtorian, of the Reward and Favour which in a The⯑atre, Diligence and S [...]briety ſeldom fail: Mills the el⯑der, grew into the Friendſhip of Wilks, with not a great deal more than their uſeful Qualities to recom⯑mend him: With this Aſſiduity, and this Friendſhip, he was advanc'd to a larger Salary than any Man-Actor, [65] 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 in⯑defatigable 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 follow⯑ed his Father's Steps, and being endow'd with a prodigi⯑ous Memory, would get Parts of very great Length, which then he had not a diſtant View of ever perform⯑ing: 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 ſuc⯑ceeding 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 Ap⯑probation.

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 in⯑duſtrious and obſervant of my Buſineſs on the Stage, and did all in my Power to become any Way uſeful. I re⯑member, that for Want of a better Performer, I under⯑took 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 in⯑born 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 Mo⯑tions 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 [66] Father, and other firſt Rate Actors for my Exemplar, be⯑fore my Eyes, I had Ambition enough to attempt their Parts, and ſay to Poſterity,

I have from this Principle all along puſh'd forward for the Goal of theatric Fame, and throughout my Charac⯑ter, 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 Plea⯑ſure.

To digreſs from this Apology to my theatric chronolo⯑gical Hiſtory, to underſtand which, after ſo many inter⯑vening Paragraphs, ſee the ſuccinct Account. From 1660 to 1684, the King and Duke's Companies had va⯑rious 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 Mi⯑niſters, Stage Cabals, Patentee Oppreſſions, (too nume⯑rous 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 ^*.—‘"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 Pro⯑logue to the Play in that Play, which originally con⯑ſiſted but of three; but Eſtionſt made it run thus.’

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 ^† Buſtle Maſter-General, as Wilks had been ſome few Years be⯑fore: And if in my Relations there are any cloſe Reſem⯑blances of Paſſages to Mr. Cibber's Apology, I ſhall con⯑tinue to quote them, to illuſtrate mine, as I before pro⯑mis'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 ac⯑quainted with theatric Affairs. Under this auſpicious Triumvirate, . . . . A new theatric golden Age aroſe.

An acting Author now was a Judge of Dramatic Au⯑thors.

Then may I follow my great Examplar

Gentle Reader, you will excuſe this Rhapſody when I tell you I am writing it at One o'Clock this Morning, [68] the 20th of May, 1740, after hearing ſomething re⯑lating to Drury-Lane, of which you may hear more here⯑after. 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 Lin⯑coln'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 va⯑rious 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 ‘"^* viſible Errors of former Managements; from them they at laſt found the neceſſary Means to bring our private Laws and Orders into a general Obſer⯑vance 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 Me⯑nagers, 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 Ob⯑ſervation, 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.

‘"^† 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 Gen⯑tlemen, [69] who ſeem'd more delighted to be pretty Ob⯑jects 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 la⯑bour'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 Im⯑patience 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 Spec⯑tator 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 de⯑nied, 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 deter⯑mined 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 ſuppreſ⯑ſing another Nuſance, the noiſy Inſolence and Imper⯑tinence of the Footmen: In ſhort, were they reſolved [70] 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 im⯑pede 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 ſome⯑times 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 Go⯑vernment 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 Sup⯑port than he has been ſcribbling it, yet after all to find it rejected. But though rejected in the mildeſt Manner, [71] 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 Sa⯑tire, 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 Circum⯑ſtances, 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 Gentle⯑men: He would ſee them, excuſe his not having had Time to peruſe their Pieces, treat them with great De⯑ference, and deſire them to call again:—Though this was a wrong Method, and gave him much unneceſ⯑ſa [...]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 [72] kept them in Suſpence ſometimes too long, he diſ⯑miſs'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—

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, an⯑ſwer'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.

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 Particu⯑liarity 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 Cha⯑racters in their own Order and Orthography.

Mr. Wilks, proper and comely in Perſon; of grace⯑ful 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, at⯑tracting attentive Silence in his Audience (I mean the Judicious) except were there are unnatural Parts, as

He is indeed the finiſh'd Copy of his famous Predeceſ⯑ſor 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 [75] 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 (Na⯑ture endowing him with an eaſy, free, unaffected Mode of Elocution) in Comedy always to laetificate his Audi⯑ence, 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, Corbac⯑chio, 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 Come⯑dian in his Company.

Mr. Dogget. On the Stage he is very aſpectabund, wear⯑ing a Farce in his Face; his Thoughts deliberately fram⯑ing, his Utterance congruous to his Looks: He is the on⯑ly 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 en⯑viron'd round with brave, young, growing, flouriſhing Plants.

Mr. Dryden, a little before his Death, rend'ring him this Praiſe;

[76] 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 Theatre has, with Humour and Pro⯑priety 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 un⯑der 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, [77] 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 Underſtand⯑ing 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 Ge⯑neral; 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 In⯑duſtry, 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 Ambi⯑tion 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 Di⯑rector, ‘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, ac⯑cording 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 [78] and had it brought on the Stage; nor was the Suc⯑ceſs 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 him⯑ſelf; 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 Au⯑dacity, and the Dawn of Genius in me. From this no⯑table 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 Au⯑dience, 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 long⯑er, and having no Applauſe at all: Other young Actors of the Houſe thought in regard to me, what Wilks and Powel [79] did as to Mr. Cibber, ſen.— ^* ‘"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 ho⯑nourable Profit.

As I roſe into ſome Degree of Approbation, I ſucceed⯑ed 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 pre⯑par'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 lol⯑ling back in his great Chair, took a Pinch of Snuff, and fell aſleep.—It is impoſſible to conceive the tumul⯑tuous Paſſions that then agitated my whole human Frame:

[80] —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 Confu⯑ſion, 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 ſe⯑cure 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 De⯑ſires work upon our Heart? I began to love my Father; I look'd on him in another Light, and inſtead of think⯑ing him a Coxcomb, thought he talk'd like a very ſenſible Man. In a Fortnight my Play was finiſh'd, and I [81] 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 pragma⯑tical 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 Falchi⯑on; 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 Compa⯑riſon proves me no more like Alexander the Great, than that of Fluellin's i [...] Henry the Fifth does him like Alexan⯑der the Pig: This would give me no Pain.

But as to my Play: When it began to mellow in Re⯑hearſal, 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 a⯑broad, 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 ridicu⯑lous 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 pub⯑lick Papers, in which I told them that, upon my Word and Credit, it was all my own Doings, and that my Fa⯑ther never wrote a Line of it, or ſaw it. Notwithſtand⯑ing 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 Dia⯑logue, 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 Audi⯑ence. 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 ſome⯑what 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 Apo⯑logy, 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 [83] 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 other⯑wiſe 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 Theatri⯑cal 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 them⯑ſelves 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 [84] 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 co⯑pious 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 Mon⯑ſieur 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 Opi⯑nion, 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 Ad⯑dreſſes to the Town from theatric Performers have done them any Service, nor would I adviſe, on any Occaſion, to have Recourſe to ſuch Expedients: How⯑ever, 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 Repreſenta⯑tions, thought him really injured: Now it became ne⯑ceſſary 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 be⯑fore [85] 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 Sum⯑mer 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 Manage⯑ment of Summer Companies: From theſe young Com⯑panies 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 Re⯑volution 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 Oppor⯑tunity, 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 [86] 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 pro⯑per 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.

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 Diſap⯑pointment, 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 Revo⯑lution 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 en⯑camp at the Hay-market; we accordingly took the Houſe of one Potter, a Carpenter, who was the Land⯑lord, b [...]ſpoke all our dramatick Equipages and Furni⯑ture, 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 De⯑fiance 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 [89] the Author's Farce, in which I and my Father were dai⯑ly 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 al⯑low'd by the Town to be greatly ſuperior to our An⯑tagoniſts; for excepting Mrs. Clive and Mrs. Horton, there was not one in their Company but was the con⯑temptible Refuſe of the Theatre. We had alſo re⯑ceiv'd an additional Force, by receiving Mr. Mil⯑ward, 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 ſtrol⯑ling Companies; but being all awkward and undiſci⯑plin'd, they were no more to compare to us than the County Militia to the King's Body-Guards ^*.—‘"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! Shake⯑ſpear was tortur'd and defac'd in every ſingle Cha⯑racter. 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 Cib⯑ber, 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 com⯑mitted [90] 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 Weſt⯑minſter: 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 Pub⯑lick 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.

The Perſon of whom Mr. Cibber only gives the Out⯑ſide 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 pre⯑ſent 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 con⯑tain'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 ſeem⯑ingly delighted with the Performance: But I have Cha⯑rity 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 ex⯑cepting the two honourable Gentlemen I juſt now men⯑tion'd; yet though we carry it off in Company, it ſtings, [93] it hurts our Hearts to be the ſtanding Objects of Rail⯑lery; 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 Re⯑ſtriction, 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 Good⯑man'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 advanta⯑geous 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, ignomi⯑nious, traiterous, ſcandalous, &c. &c. &c. Libel a⯑gainſt 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 [94] 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 cer⯑tain 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 ma⯑nage 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 de⯑monſtrative 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 ſup⯑preſs, 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 ab⯑ſolute 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 [95] could gain no proper Redreſs; for the conſtant imme⯑morial Way of redreſſing Grievances, in the Govern⯑ment 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 ill⯑founded, 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 ano⯑ther Place.

^* Mr. C. Cibber has made a copious and florid Diſſer⯑tation, 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 dan⯑gerous 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 Poli⯑tician, 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 ſhal⯑low 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, be⯑gan [96] 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 High⯑more 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 poſ⯑ſible, 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 Con⯑dition, 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 [97] 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 In⯑tentions, it was deſtructive of the natural and legal Li⯑berty 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 pur⯑chaſed 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 o⯑ther 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 [98] 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 Com⯑pany, 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 be⯑fore 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 Re⯑lief 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.

WELL, courteous Reader, you venture then to travel on, maugre all the Things I can ſay to my own Diſpraiſe: If I, like my Fa⯑ther, 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 il⯑luſtrious 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 ad⯑mirable, has ſhewn this Species of writing in Perfec⯑tion: 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 [100] 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 De⯑fence 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 hiſto⯑rical Pillory. It would alſo be an endleſs Work to vin⯑dicate 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 vir⯑tuous 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, ſome⯑times, 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 Sen⯑tence, I will tell you a ſhort Story.

A great Lawyer, who now makes one of the moſt illuſtrious Figures in Weſtminſter-Hall, was as re⯑markable for his Amours as his Pleadings: What was [101] his Gallantry to any Body? Yet was he often cenſured and made the Object of Wit for this Foible. It hap⯑pen'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 Cham⯑bermaid 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 ſa⯑tisfied with ſuch a Reply, he may get a more ſatisfac⯑tory 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 re⯑ſolved 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; negociat⯑ing here and negociating there, and all for a Joke only? Would any Man do this without the pleaſing Recorda⯑tion 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 [102] 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.

‘"^* 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 Mo⯑tives; '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 Preſump⯑tuous 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 particular⯑ly 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 Am⯑bition, a meer Shade to my Laurels. My Competitor [103] 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 Pan⯑tomimes, 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 mar⯑vellous; 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 Sen⯑timents 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 advan⯑tageous 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 [104] 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 Pole⯑phemus of a Man, with an Inanity of Voice and Geſture, excited Wonder and Applauſe.

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: ‘"^* 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 Diſ⯑reſpect 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 Conſe⯑ſequences, or heard the leaſt Diſapprobation of it: And the whole Body of Actors proteſting againſt [105] 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 At⯑tachment 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 Con⯑feſſion 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 Gra⯑titude?—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 No⯑tion of theatrical Honour is to act only for your own Con⯑venience, 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 [106] 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 Equiva⯑lent 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 ex⯑ploded 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 Acquain⯑tance with much Glee of Heart, and boaſtful Satisfac⯑tion; but as I would be by this Apology, Toto notus in orbe Theophilus, I cannot reſiſt the Temptation of in⯑ſerting 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 Re⯑conciliation 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 [107] 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 un⯑der 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 Inte⯑reſt 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 Govern⯑ment. We knew indeed that our Maſter had redeem'd us from a thouſand Inconveniencies we had labour'd un⯑der, 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 in⯑culcated 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 Murmur⯑ings [108] 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 en⯑gag'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 Jea⯑louſies aroſe. The Maſter favour'd ſeveral of theſe ad⯑ditional 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 Di⯑ſtinction 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 [109] 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 pre⯑ſiding 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 Cucum⯑ber.—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 Be⯑nefit was over, I determin'd, according to an old Prac⯑tice 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 a⯑greeable 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.

‘"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 turn⯑ing Pleader at the Bar; nor can I make any better for telling how I became a M—al Writer. The Af⯑fairs 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, po⯑litical, and gallant Character. Some People immediate⯑ly knew the Author, for we great Authors are ſoon found out let us take what Care we will to conceal our⯑ſelves. 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 inimi⯑table [111] 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 Mi⯑niſter. 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 un⯑grateful Raſcal, and this and that and t'other; but they might as well have ſung Pſalms to a Cow, for my Phi⯑loſophy could away with it. What I did was conveni⯑ently 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 Scab⯑bard muſt be thrown away: Every one who has read Machiavel knows theſe Tenets are juſtifiable: there⯑fore whatever Falſhood, Scandal, Infamy, and Ingrati⯑tude my Country Correſpondent might have contain'd a⯑gainſt Mr. Fl—t—d, yet it being conſiſtent with my pri⯑vate 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 the⯑atrical 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 [112] 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 a⯑nother 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 Mea⯑ſures that it ſhould not be acted; which would ſhew to the Miniſter what Zeal I had for his Ser⯑vice, 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 Mat⯑ter 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 Go⯑vernment, and ſome Lines in the Praiſe of Liberty were ſo introduc'd as to make ſtrong Inuendoes that the Liber⯑ty 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 Play⯑houſe met with, which they attributed to the Fear the [113] 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 addi⯑tional 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 Pru⯑dence, 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 ^*—

I muſt annotate, that all that is ſaid here in Refe⯑rence to comic Satire, and the Comedian, is, vice verſa, equally applicable to the Tragedy and Tragedian: For [115] 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 Mi⯑niſter, the pompous Buskins and Plumes of Tragedy, together with the Aſpect and Elocution of the Trage⯑dian, 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 ob⯑ſerv'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 diſ⯑agreeable to People in Power: This indeed anſwer'd his Ends in point of Profit, for being the firſt Play re⯑fus'd ſince the Commencement of the Act, People's Cu⯑rioſity were rais'd not only by wanting to ſee the prohi⯑bited Play, out of political Reaſons, but becauſe it was ſaid by common Rumour to be a moſt excellent Tra⯑gedy: 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 adver⯑tis'd that they fell the Martyrs to Freedom, publick Spi⯑rit, 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, [116] from a natural Effect it has on the Generality of Sto⯑machs of Mankind, will not allow an Avidity for more; for, as Mr. Colley Cibber philoſophically and beautifully obſerves ^*, What Pleaſure is not languid to Satiety ^† . . . . . 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 Oppo⯑ſition 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 Re⯑fuſal, 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 Fa⯑ther'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 writ⯑ing, 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 Extrava⯑ganzas in Life which mark us out to the Gaze and Won⯑der 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 them⯑ſelves 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 Infor⯑mer about Guſtavus Vaſa, and ſo deduc'd ſome hiſtorical Anecdotes concerning that dainty Piece, and added ſome political Remarks from Cibber's Apology, in De⯑fence of the licenſing Act. . . . Let me ſee. . . Ay, it [117] was ſo.—I will now draw the Back Scene of my Pro⯑ceedings, 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 fa⯑ſhionable reputable Bawdy-Houſes in Covent-Garden Piazzas. . . . Vile Inſinuation! How weak the Under⯑ſtanding 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 in⯑tends to proceed on other Motives than they imagine.—I was us'd in the ſame Manner as to my ſecret Expedi⯑tion 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 pri⯑vate 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 Inſtruc⯑tion, I ſhall prudently be ſilent; Inſtructions given to Am⯑baſſadors, 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 Down⯑ing-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 Rea⯑ſons, 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 [118] 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 rhapſo⯑dical 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.

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 Admini⯑ſtration, 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 in⯑ſerted 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.

[119] "Soon after the Non-Juror had receiv'd the Favour of the Town, I read, in one of Miſt's Journals, the fol⯑lowing ſhort Paragraph: Yeſterday died Mr. Colley Cibber, late Comedian of the Theatre Royal, noto⯑rious 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 con⯑vinc'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 Drol⯑lery. I may be ask'd why I was ſo voluntary a Cham⯑pion 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. [120] Trot, you are miſtaken; Colley Cibber interſpers'd De⯑fences of Lord Chamberlain's Power, and Licenſing Act, for the ſame Reaſon that I wrote Country Correſ⯑pondents 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 a⯑buſing 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 pa⯑tiently 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 Pro⯑feſſions 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 Commo⯑tions, [121] ſtirring up Revolts, heading Rebellions, and bringing about Revolutions, he thought proper to com⯑municate 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 pro⯑vided for. Now though I knew he did not care a Ruſh for me, nor would, out of pure Love, give me a Far⯑thing 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 re⯑ſolved 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 o⯑blig'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 Ad⯑herents.—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 Con⯑ſequence?—Yes, Sir, to write as I did, and lay a⯑bout 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 re⯑member the old Maxim:

[122] Which I thus render:

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 ſug⯑geſted 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 thea⯑trical 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 Me⯑mory, clip'd the Wings of my Ambition: However I was reſolv'd to make a Puſh at it, and propos'd to my [123] 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 Aſ⯑ſiſtance, 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 me⯑nag'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 on⯑ly 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 my⯑ſelf: 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 [124] Monſieur Harlequin, put my Troops to the Rout. How⯑ever 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 il⯑luſtrate this by Matters of Fact, as I practis'd them. . . . When I engag'd in that notorious Trial of my Cuckol⯑dom, 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 Heart⯑wracking 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 all⯑over. . . . Two Months after I had a Benefit in my own [125] 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 Majo⯑rity. . . . 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, Acquain⯑tance 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.

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 Pa⯑tent, 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 Uneaſi⯑neſſes 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 [129] were at Drury-Lane Theatre, and through a vio⯑lent 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 ſo⯑licit 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 Neceſ⯑ſity 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 Know⯑ledge 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 Ne⯑gociations were thus carrying on, we had, we thought, another favourable Incident: Mr. F—d was taken ex⯑tremely 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 [128] 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 Ad⯑vantage 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 Opportu⯑nities 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 Mini⯑ſtry 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 Eſſen⯑tial 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, [129] 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 Prac⯑tice is any Reproach, that as for my Part I value my⯑ſelf 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 gain⯑ſay 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 Hi⯑ſtorian, 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 well⯑govern'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 Employ⯑ment, 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 Ra⯑rities."’ ⁶² [130] . . . 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 Opi⯑nion 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 Com⯑pany, 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 Play⯑houſes, 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 con⯑tend 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 Play⯑houſes, the Value of the Direction of a Theatre may in⯑creaſe, 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 ſan⯑guine Hopes of Succeſs, that we had fix'd on the Place to have encamp'd in, and have open'd our Campaign: It [131] was the Opera-houſe in the Hay-market, where the Re⯑volters 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 po⯑pulous 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 Beau⯑ties in them, which only excellent Authors can diſ⯑cover, 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 Good⯑breeding, we ſhould have made our Theatre the School of Manners, Virtue, and Politeneſs. . . . For has he not in his ^* Chimaerical Thoughts of making the Stage uſeful, built a Theatre in the Air, to prove ^† 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 [132] all know what WAS may be again, we flatter'd ourſelves that we ſhould have brought about a theatric Reforma⯑tion: And more eſpecially from the Publication of the Apology, having laboriouſly and zealouſly ſhewn in it, what ‘"^* Regard was always paid to the Power of a Lord Chamberlain, and what Influence and Opera⯑tion that Power muſt naturally have in all theatric Revolutions."’

—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, Repreſenta⯑tions, Lucubrations, and Apologies, the Theatre Colle [...] Cibber built in the Air, muſt ſtill remain in Nubibus, though ^† 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 [133] Chamberlain denied us a Licenſe, on ſo fooliſh a Rea⯑ſon (begging my Lord's Pardon for the Expreſſion) as, he would not conſent, without any Foundation of Rea⯑ſon, for us to invade a Gentleman's Property: But my Lord has another Way of thinking, as to moral Obliga⯑tions, than C. . . y C. . . r; and however he may approve of him as an entertaining Companion, he has no Opi⯑nion of him as a Moral Philoſopher. It is not be⯑coming 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.’ [134] 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 Do⯑minions 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 di⯑ſtinguiſh me by.—But do not our European Potentates act on the ſame Principle: If they can once gain Poſ⯑ſeſſion, 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 Pro⯑perty?—Would any good Engliſhman doubt our indiſ⯑putable 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 Pro⯑perty of Nations, and the private Property of Sub⯑jects 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; [135] and I think myſelf, in this Reſpect, acting in as juſt Principle as any Potentate living.

What a Buſtle-Maſter General would I have made a⯑mong 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 Com⯑pany by the Sanction of a Licenſe from the Lord Cham⯑berlain; 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.

He like a looſe Philoſopher may again ſay,

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 [136] 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 thea⯑trical 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.

AS 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 [137] requires not only a great Judgement but great Art, tho' you deſcribe Perſons that have lived ſome Years or Cen⯑turies 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 ſuc⯑ceeded 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 theatri⯑cal 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; there⯑fore 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 my⯑ſelf, 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 de⯑viating [138] 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 Re⯑putation 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 with⯑out any Competitor, when, all on a ſudden, there ap⯑pear'd at Goodman's-Fields a young Tragedian from Dublin: This was D. . l. . ne. Novelty, Youth, a hand⯑ſome Figure, &c. took off from any ſevere Criti⯑ciſm 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 in⯑dulge 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 de⯑clamatory Way: He either cannot work himſelf into [139] 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, Indig⯑nation, 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 [140] 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 Expecta⯑tion; 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 De⯑ſcriptions 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 Inequa⯑lity 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 Hu⯑mour 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 re⯑member 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 [141] 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 per⯑forms: 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 ſe⯑vere 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 with⯑out 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 Fe⯑male 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 ‘"^* 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 [142] 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 Tra⯑gedy, ſince the Death of Mrs. Hallam, ſhe ſtands with⯑out 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 de⯑fectively unſurpriſing to the Hearer.—As I mention no particular Perſons, no particular Perſons can take Of⯑fence: In Juſtice to my own Judgement I muſt ac⯑knowledge, that I unwillingly acquieſce in the Obſerva⯑tion 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 Adminiſtra⯑tion:—‘"^* 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 [143] 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 ^* 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, ‘"^† 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 whe⯑ther 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.—

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 Confi⯑dence 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 Ex⯑travagancies: Yet their private Virtues, publick Mo⯑deſty, and Sentiments of Morality were, in fact, in the [144] one and the other the ſame, though their publick Con⯑duct 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 Op⯑portunity to make my Attempts on the theatric Domi⯑nions more ſucceſsful: However thoſe Attempts occa⯑ſion'd this Apology, which will tranſmit my Name and Character to late Poſterity; and I may conclude as Ovid does: